Adventure
in Everything
by Matthew Walker
The line is long. It
stretches out past the pavilion, where it’s guided by the metal barriers
that allow people to snake back and forth past each other every few
minutes. The first sign you pass not only says that you must be 48 inches
tall to get on this ride, but also that the wait from this point is 60
minutes. The next sign says that the wait is now 45 minutes, even though
it’s been at least 30 since you passed the last one. As you enter the
pavilion, you catch a glimpse of the first hill a good 100 yards away, and
you can even see a car making the ascent, only to plummet back down toward
the earth.
You start to wonder what
the hell you were thinking when you decided to get in line for this roller
coaster.
Eighty-five minutes
after you entered the 60-minute line, you make your way to the area where
the next round of passengers position themselves to enter the cars
they’ll be riding. As you and your neighbor are about to take your spots
in the space reserved for the second car—the line for the first is far
too long—you’re cut off by a man and his son, who claim the space for
themselves.
“Excuse me, sir,”
you say. “I believe we’re supposed to be next.”
“No, you are not
next,” the man hisses as he moves his son behind him in response to the
obviously menacing threat your polite tone suggested. “Pay
attention.”
You look around for an
attendant to intervene, but realize that this misunderstanding was born of
the fact that this ride—and this theme park as a whole—is severely
understaffed. You then look to your riding companion, who shrugs with a
blank look on his face, and resign yourself to the fact that the few
minutes you’ll be delayed waiting for the next ride isn’t worth the
amount of conflict you’ll create if you pursue this any further.
Eventually, it’s your
turn. You enter the car, and the safety harness locks into place as you
guide it over your head and shoulders. You then look to your neighbor with
that eager, childlike smile reserved only for the most highly anticipated
moments in life. The car jolts as it advances out of the pavilion, and you
roll out into the sun.
Just like that, you’re
off. Unlike those rides that use a chain system to get you over the first
hill, this one starts you off in a shock of speed. One second you’re
still, and the next you’re traveling at what the brochures and
television commercials say is 128 miles per hour. You begin to ascend that
first hill you saw an hour ago, and, like the cars you also saw, you only
barely make it over the top. You’re sure you left your screams back at
the peak, for the descent is so fast and so . . . vertical
that you might as well be breaking the sound barrier. Improbably,
there’s a flash of light as you enter a loop, and you wonder if you were
simply seeing things as you go right into a double corkscrew, another
loop, and the second steep drop before the car makes a sharp turn and then
finishes off with the standard series of camelback hills that has ended
nearly every roller-coaster ride you’ve ever been on.
After disembarking, you
waddle down the exit ramp and try to reorient yourself to the ground. As
you begin to relive the experience you just had, you notice a series of
screens. One of them displays your picture, taken right after the longest
descent—perhaps you really did see a flash after all. You don’t
remember screaming quite as much as the photo suggests, but the ride
happened so quickly that you barely remembered any one moment in
particular.
You already knew it was
going to be short, however. You were told the ride was one minute and ten
seconds long, and it lasted for exactly that amount of time.
Consider for a moment
some of the choices you’ve made that have had a significant impact on
you. For example, what schools did you attend? Who is it you’ve decided
to spend your life with? What was the first career you pursued? Where was
the first place you moved after you left your childhood home? When did you
have kids? When did you write a book or start your own business?
Next, consider how
different your life would be if each of those choices had been gift
wrapped with a guaranteed outcome. What if you knew what job you were
going to have before you even started your freshman year of college? What
if you decided to have a boy and a girl born three years apart, and
that’s exactly what you got?
On the surface, these
situations sound pretty good, don’t they? In each one, you have complete
control. You are free to carefully craft, mold, and develop your path with
the absolute assurance of the best possible result. Regardless of whether
or not this sounds good, it does seem just a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it?
However, this is
precisely what we often attempt to do in our lives. We try our hardest to
guarantee an outcome for every situation, and we go out of our way to
maintain control of all the different variables. For instance, we predict
exactly where we see ourselves in 5 years, even 20. This is not only a
maddening proposition, but it’s a losing one. It’s as if we’re
wrestling a ghost.
Now, think about the
roller coaster featured in the previous narrative. What happened during
that initial shock of speed? It provided a thrilling rush of adrenaline,
and then perhaps a moment of terror when it felt like the car wasn’t
going to make it over the enormous hill. The experience was entertaining
and momentarily exciting, and for $14.95 it could be captured forever in a
souvenir photo. It was, nevertheless, only a ride. It led you on a
predetermined path to those thrills, without causing harm to you or anyone
else who’s at least 48 inches tall.
But by the time it
delivered you safely back to the loading platform, what were you left with
except for a self-contained and predetermined experience? Aside from the
long line and the conflict with the man and his son, you went on the ride
without incident and continued with your life. In truth, a roller coaster,
for all the fun it might provide, is just a temporary reprieve from the
uncontrollable realities of the real world. It will always last for one
minute and ten seconds—no more, no less.
We all need a certain
allotment of prearranged outcomes in our lives . . . a little control. We
also benefit from having routines, such as being sure to always brush our
teeth before going to bed, and arriving for work on time every day. To
neglect consistency would not only be irresponsible, but it would likely
lead to chaos. However, habitual activities and predetermined consequences
can only serve as backdrops for our growth as human beings. They aren’t
vehicles for inspiration or illumination, and certainly not for finding
Adventure in Everything.
Uncertain outcome is
exactly what it sounds like: an end result that’s unknown at the outset
of a pursuit. An amusement-park ride, for all its thrills and excitement,
may be immediately gratifying to the senses, but it is in no way
beneficial to us in the long term. An endeavor with an uncertain outcome,
then, is filled with rewarding possibilities. If you know what’s going
to happen, then it isn’t a high endeavor. Instead, it’s simply another
activity that fills up part of your day.
Why should it even be
necessary to explore the topic of uncertain outcomes? Shouldn’t it be
enough to simply say that we need to find endeavors in which we don’t
know what the result will be and leave it at that?
Of course, while the
concept of uncertain outcomes is simple, it’s not always easy to put
ourselves in situations that exemplify this quality. Not knowing how
something will turn out opens us up to the possibility of not succeeding,
of feeling like a failure, or generally brings about a sense of pain or
loss if things don’t go the way we want them to—it ultimately causes
us to feel fear.
It may be immediately
gratifying to grab a burger and fries at the local diner, but we all know
that eating a meal of vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins will
provide greater benefits in the long run. The same is true for seeking
uncertain outcomes in our lives: it may be scary, and it might not be as
pleasing in the short term as something else that has a more certain
outcome, but it will provide us with much more of an opportunity for
growth and fulfillment over the course of our lives.
This excerpt was taken
from the upcoming book Adventure in
Everything by Matthew Walker (September 2011, Hay House)
_____________________________
Matthew
Walker,
who received a master’s degree in applied behavioral science from
Bastyr
University
in
Seattle
,
Washington
, has worked as an outdoor educator and mountain guide for the past two
decades. Through his company, Inner Passage, Matt’s mission is to teach
and facilitate leadership development to individuals and organizations via
outdoor adventure, and help people reconnect with their professional and
personal potential.
Matt has led expeditions
throughout all reaches of the globe; and divides his time between
climbing, family, and work—seeking adventure in all. He lives with his
wife, daughter, and their canine climbing partner in
Tucson
,
Arizona
.
