When’s the last time you took a risk? Why? Or should I say – why not?
Many of us associate risk taking with youth – that sparkling time which we think will never end, when excitement is easily found, and lack of experience makes everything new – and mistakes, inevitable.
Then again, with youth, we are resilient.
But over time, we make choices. We ease into a routine. We settle down. Often, we do so because we want to. Sometimes, because we think we must.
And along come the conventional families and house payments and job worries, and we love our families, we love our lives, yet we begin to look back, wistfully, with the passage of the years.
And we wonder, as we run out of steam – if there is still energy enough or time enough for adventure. For taking risk.
Age and risk taking
Does age begin to narrow options? Do you take fewer risks – because you must, or because you feel you should or shouldn’t act a certain way, pursue a new goal, or live a life chasing a dream?
I don’t believe that age limits our desire to explore or try new things, though I recognize that some would make us feel foolish for acting on those desires, or admitting to the sensation of being 30 in a 50-year old body, or for that matter, 18 in a 65-year old body.
I am grateful that with maturity I’ve learned to discern the calculated risks from the dangerous ones, but not to toss aside every dream, every vision, every legitimate aspect of self that is as vital as ever. To look in the mirror and accept changes. To look in the mirror and still see the future.
Life gets complicated
With relationships, there must be compromise. With marriage, there will always be adjustments. With children in the mix, life gets even trickier. Beyond anything we’ve imagined, thinking we can have it all and do it all, and realizing it isn’t so simple.
If divorce comes knocking on that door – especially if not by mutual consent – we grieve, we rage, and we ultimately adapt. More or less.
Sometimes, to a life with even more complications.
But change equates to opportunity. Not easy opportunity, but new options nonetheless. Unexpected and even unwanted change may force us into a new kind of risk taking. We can curl up and fade away, or we can fight to survive – and even dare to thrive – kicked out of our comfort zone whether we like it or not.
Friendship and romance
When life changes dramatically, some of those in our lives depart. Changing circumstances make them uncomfortable – or us, with them. A medical condition may slow you down. Divorce may leave you in financial disarray. It is especially sad – to me – when women walk away… from each other.
But it’s never too late to make friends, and don’t think otherwise.
No longer a spring chicken? No matter – there are great women out there.
Looking for a hot man the second time around? An age-appropriate guy may be tougher to find as the years go on, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.
Emotional risk taking
Putting our emotions on the line may become more difficult as we mature. Speaking our minds may be easier.
The understanding that life is shorter and more fragile than we once thought assumes the role of constant companion. We count our birthdays (and our blessings), and tell ourselves it’s enough.
Put our hearts on the line? Take that chance?
We may not dare.
The emotional investment in a new relationship is frightening, time-consuming, possibly draining. And when I find myself falling into the habit of accepting that I am beyond emotional risk-taking, I gently chide myself:
No risk, no chance of success.
New territories
For some of us, we consider it a positive trait to accept what life has dealt. We deem this a sign of our maturity, we choose not to rock the boat, and as part of this approach we put the happiness of others before our own. We look at the big picture. We rationalize. We sum up our inertia with a sigh, and surrender to “Youth is wasted on the young.”
There’s nothing wrong with any of this, if in so doing we aren’t actually making others more unhappy and ourselves miserable, with the underlying reason being fear of change.
So we stay in jobs that are stable, and in marriages that are quiet – trading off excitement (and the unknown) for security (and the known).
But what if we changed the conversation?
What if we consider that youth isn’t wasted on the young? What if it is lived as it should be – naively, spontaneously, and occasionally chaotically? What if maturity is to be lived with a fullness of heart and spirit and compassion that the “young” have yet to attain?
Then, might we cease to waste our maturity?
Get up, get going
Maybe it’s Spring Fever. Maybe it’s the plenitude of my years. Maybe it’s an appreciation for what I’ve learned. Maybe it is knowing that my nest will soon empty, and I can no longer make excuses.
Sure, some elements of life are always out of our control, but much is not; my life will be what I can create of it, given the unavoidable constraints that no one can predict.
So… I’m gearing up, reshaping my self-image, and hoping to stare down the unknown. I will argue myself out of the fear, repeatedly if necessary, and commit to getting back up when I’m knocked down.
Life is about taking chances. It’s what we do. It’s what some of us must.
What about you?
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What a wonderful post for a Monday. I think that part of the difference in our approach to risk when we are younger vs. older is that things that seem risky to us in retrospect (“I’ll go packapck around Europe for the summer and ‘find’ myself”) aren’t really that risky for young people. There’s little at stake so while it seems risky from the vantage point of kids and a mortgage, it isn’t so risky for a 19-year-old. We still take risks – growing our families, taking new jobs, tackling social issues, etc. But because we do them while paying taxes and eating vegetables they don’t seem so risky.
Some are more comfortable coasting but I wonder how alive they truly feel. I used to think things would get easier as I got older and some little things have. But living? I don’t think it’s meant to get easier. Richer? Only if we embrace risks of rejection, failing, getting hurt and making fools of themselves. I say yes.
Yes, I take chances. I promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t just watch life pass me by. I am cautious about how much risk I take on, but that is because of my kids.
Still, I wouldn’t describe myself as being overly conventional.
Really good point about having kids, Jack. Sometimes we reduce our risk-taking to ensure that we’re around and providing for our kids in the ways they need us. And another good point – adventurous, risk-taking, unconventional – these aren’t synonymous.
I constantly have to push myself to not hide in my shell. It’s one of the things that I love so much about my husband. He’s always putting himself out there, a risk-taker (but calculated of course). He’s been laid up with an injury for the past month and I’ve realized this so much – being on my own with the kids, skiing, traveling. It’s ever present in my mind that I want to cower away, but I won’t let myself!
While I fondly remember my older son’s kindergarten teacher perpetually encouraging him (and the other shy, hesitant kids) to “take a chance” (whether on guessing about something to trying a new thing), I see much room for optimism as we mature regarding taking chances.
Malcolm Gladwell writes about the hours of practice required for mastery… so it may be that we are just getting to a place where we might master the arts of relating to others (particularly if we hesitate because past hurts messed with our wiring). And as for wiring, we are learning that old brains can indeed learn new tricks, lay down new roads, and then follow those more positive roads within to arrive at new places without.
Finally, after wanting certain things and being blocked from them in the past, I like to play with the idea that those dreams didn’t die, they gave themselves time to meld, harmonize, mature; I remember getting out of film school and thinking, “I know how to make a film, but I have nothing to say.” I realize this generally doesn’t stop Hollywood from making films, but I’m just as glad not to have made things that no one really needed anyway. It also helps me realize why seasoned producers (who I could respect) would often say they had to truly be passionate about a project to bother trying to make it (and were looking for like passion in others). So, maybe the big chance is to take chances on what we really and deeply feel and believe—then if we fail, at least it is a noble failure… and if we succeed, we can inspire others, as you do BL Wolf.
Dreams giving themselves time to meld and harmonize. I love that concept, Bruce. Thank you – as always – for your rich and thoughtful feedback. Would that we could inspire. Not a bad thing…
I think I’ve been doing a lot of emotional risk-taking of late, but traditional risk-taking is not something I’ve ever been good at. And I have regrets because of it. And as life goes on, I realize it gets harder and harder. But I’m afraid I’m not wired that way. I’m better with routine and habit and living what I know.
I take a risk every time I come to your blog. Fortunately, there is enough of the good stuff like humor, good writing, and pretty people, that I’ll keep coming back… for now. ;O)
Oh Gandalfe! I take a risk every time I close my eyes and tap-tap-tap out I-never-know-what. Glad you keep coming back…
We (Fran and I) take risks, but of a different sort than when younger. We don’t take risks that can only be salvaged by brute physical strength and endurance (I don’t climb with ropes). But in other ways we are much less inhibited (purple, anyone?), and I am much less concerned about risking my image/reputation (not that that ever really was my concern, or maybe when much younger). So we do some seemingly goofy stuff and can often find some fun in it. I did some solo backpacking (couple of trips where I didn’t see another human for three days). I didn’t take intentional chances (no one to help – you’re on your own), but felt surer of things than I would have decades ago.
I was talking to someone recently who doesn’t like to do things alone – not exercising, not traveling, not going out. I mentioned that if I had lived that way, I would never have seen parts of the world I have loved, met interesting people, or had some of the adventurous times I’ve experienced. Interesting that you have no problem backpacking solo. That’s one I wouldn’t do. What risks/adventures might you take solo, and others, only with Fran?
Last question got me thinking (you’re particularly good at asking questions). Fran and I do lots together, but we aren’t tethered. Our pair/solo times are based mostly on whether our interests and schedules are shared or not. I worry some about her when she is alone at night in South Philly after doing her volunteer work with the Burmese refugee community there. Feel it’s more risky than solo backpacking. She doesn’t worry about such things – for herself or for me. She’s adventurous/spontaneous (remember her “risk taking, not thrill seeking” and “serendipity rules” when we first met, and my wedding statement that “this marriage is to free you….”). She enjoys travel more than I do. I was arrested for civil disobedience a few years ago and had a trial and all – very good experience. Fran supported this, but that behavior wasn’t her thing. I didn’t feel it was particularly risky, although the feeling is interesting when someone first locks you in the paddy wagon and controls your life for the moment.
“Tethered.” Great word, Paul. And a concept of committed relationship that some have. (I don’t.) As for that paddy wagon thing – wow! I will say, I had my own version, the Parisian paddy wagon, but that’s another story for another day… 😉
Oh, she’s more cautious in the water than I am (being a minimal swimmer and having almost drowned on at least two occasions). When she was 20, she was rescued in Tahiti by a French Foreign Legionnaire. Et cetera.
Parisian paddy wagon. Leave it to you to do things in style.