Maybe you've heard the Zen saying, "Leap, and the net will appear." I wasn't raised a risk-taker, but as I grew up, I had a nagging feeling that if I didn't scamper out of my comfort zone, I'd end up an old lady with many regrets. Now I take calculated risks and leap on a daily basis as a writer, entrepreneur and mom. Usually I'm caught, and if not, a hard fall doesn't stop me for long.
Out of love, my parents made me play it safe: I wore a lot of sunscreen; I was told to stay on the sidewalks when I rode my bike; and Mom pulled over on the Beltway when I unbuckled my seatbelt. In fact, my mom owned a cool repossessed AMC Javelin, black with red interior. She sold it because the back seats didn't have seat belts. In college, my parents sacrificed so I could live in the "rich kids" apartment complex, which was considered safer than most off-campus housing because of its tall gates and steep rent.
The funny thing was that as young people, both of my parents took calculated risks. My mother, before she had kids, worked all over Europe, Canada and the U.S. She learned languages on the fly and easily found friends. My dad left the Navy for a much better civil servant job. He enjoyed his career, at least for the first 15 years before he'd come home exhausted every night, waiting for Mom to serve him his beer and Ritz crackers. From observation, I thought that when you have kids, you must give up your risk-taking card or else!
I knew I was supposed to do well in school and find a safe, salaried corporate job (no commission sales!) that had excellent benefits and live in a townhouse (the middle unit so as not to have the outrageous heating and cooling bills of an end unit).
But before moving in with my parents in Charleston, S.C., I experienced the summer that changed my life.
Mary Chapin Carpenter's, "I Take My Chances," became my theme song. I allowed myself to fall in love, even though I knew it wasn't going to end well. I feared that I was boring and that's why he dumped me. What did I have to lose by taking some chances? I'd played it safe, and that strategy hadn't led anywhere.
So began my quest to run marathons, sail the ocean, scuba dive, deep-sea fish, and serve eggs and toast at a beachfront cafe. After getting my own place in Myrtle Beach, I went to a karaoke bar by myself, watched "Titanic" and "The Blair Witch Project" alone and slept in my Mustang when the circumstances called for it. I didn't go too crazy with the guys and alcohol.
In Raleigh, I learned to apply makeup to strangers' faces. I started my own business, cold-called myself into writing and teaching gigs, self-published a poetry book, and am having my poetry published by a traditional press at the end of this year.
I took more risks after I had kids. For starters, I had kids, a path my mother never envisioned I'd tread. Yet my risk-taking broadened with children and marriage; now I think of both as living your life, not taking a risk.
That Zen saying encourages you to have faith in your abilities and talents. To trust in others, to trust in yourself. To grow, to stretch.
Risk drives evolution, and I like evolving.
