Chapter 10 – Live your bucket list

Truth be told, up until very recently, I never quite understood the purpose of a bucket list. Sure, I have often joked about adding fun, unique, or niche things to my list simply so I could say “been there, done that.” I know I certainly had some type of list going in my head related to the things I wanted to do, see, or learn. Maybe I think too much, but I think this laissez-faire attitude toward something that holds dreams manifest means that maybe what I was not grasping was the potential this list represents.

The potential for wandering.

For life.

Adventure.

Experience.

Learning.

Growth.

And of course, bragging rights.

I have a friend, he loves a good bucket list. I never quite understood his fascination with crafting such an odd list of desired accomplishments. To him it was never, “why are these things so odd?,” though. It was always, “why would I not want to?” I am very thankful for that frame of thinking because more than having a wild sense of adventure or being a representation of the pursuit of oddity, I think this list can represent someone’s desire to live. Someone’s goals and dreams for life, unrestricted by reality and the voices of the world. And that’s pretty powerful.

So.

Cheers to those who recognize the power and beauty and freedom of having a bucket list.

And thank you for reminding the rest of us – me – that life exists outside the structure of the work, school, and obligations we tie ourselves to.

A 100-item bucket list, in no particular order, because there is hidden magic in adventures to be had.

  1. Sleep under the stars, or alternatively, go car camping.
  2. Be a bartender in a mountainside town.
  3. Learn to shoot a bow and arrow.
  4. Have a Mamma Mia moment.
  5. Go to a concert in the rain.
  6. Learn how to DJ.
  7. Ride in a hot air balloon.
  8. Go parasailing at the beach.
  9. Learn how to surf.
  10. Vacation in Hawaii.
  11. Flick somebody off.
  12. Write the theory of everything, but for happiness.
  13. Write and publish a book.
  14. Milk a cow (and drink raw milk)!
  15. Host a television show.
  16. Own and run a farmstead bed and breakfast.
  17. Buy a tiny home.
  18. Renovate an antebellum home.
  19. Learn how to sew.
  20. Become a doctor?
  21. A first love kind of heartbreak.
  22. Drive across the entire country, east to west coast, or the other way. I guess it doesn’t really matter.
  23. Pay my parents back for all my student loans.
  24. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey.
  25. Pull an all-nighter.
  26. Always, always be the bigger, kinder person.
  27. Learn how to (better) drive stick-shift.
  28. Have pets – cows, goats, and chickens, please.
  29. Live in Greensboro again (if only for a bit).
  30. Hike/visit the Cumberland Gap.
  31. Visit The Sphinx and The Great Pyramids of Giza.
  32. Ride the trolley car zipline thing in the Swiss Alps.
  33. Finally watch all the Harry Potter movies.
  34. Meet Guy Fieri.
  35. See some fjords in Norway.
  36. Remember to always thank those who have helped me along the way.
  37. Plant a sunflower garden.
  38. Be a princess for a night – attend a ball.
  39. Chase fireflies in the starlight.
  40. Learn how to change the oil in my car.
  41. Plan an A-to-Z restaurant adventure for somewhere I live.
  42. Follow my heart. Always.
  43. Learn how to weld.
  44. See the Northern Lights.
  45. Tap trees for maple syrup, then make candy, like in Little House on the Prairie.
  46. Find a natural waterslide, and maybe a hidden waterfall.
  47. See Niagara Falls.
  48. Relax in a hot spring.
  49. Go on a canal tour of Venice, Italy.
  50. Vacation in a fairytale village in The Netherlands.
  51. Make a phone call from a telephone booth.
  52. Hike the Inca Trail to Machu Pichu.
  53. Backpack New Zealand.
  54. Walk the shores of Glass Beach in California.
  55. Explore Banff National Park.
  56. Ride on an overnight train.
  57. Snorkel at the Great Barrier Reef.
  58. Attend a festival at night in Santorini, Greece.
  59. Befriend and pen pal with someone from across the world.
  60. Play a game of pick-up football on Thanksgiving.
  61. Go on a geocaching adventure with a (real) map and compass.
  62. Perfect my chocolate chip cookie recipe.
  63. Learn how to drive a boat.
  64. Work in a bakery.
  65. A fall day, complete with apple and pumpkin picking, a corn maze, fresh donuts, and a hayride.
  66. Get stuck on top a Ferris Wheel.
  67. Climb a water tower and watch the sunset.
  68. Go on an Alaskan cruise.
  69. Explore Glacier National Park.
  70. See an alligator.
  71. Watch a volcano erupt (from a distance).
  72. Hike in Rocky Mountain National Park.
  73. Canoe at the Boundary Waters.
  74. Learn how to stand-up paddleboard.
  75. Build a fire – by myself.
  76. Take my kids sledding.
  77. Hike to and camp at Havasu Falls.
  78. Go on a sunrise hike.
  79. Watch the sunset from the top of a mountain.
  80. Fill my home with laughter, love, and memories.
  81. Visit the Smithsonian.
  82. Explore Charleston, South Carolina.
  83. See the sea turtles at Jekyll Island, Georgia.
  84. Build a treehouse.
  85. Go to a music festival.
  86. Photograph (and explore) Cinque Terre in Italy.
  87. Explore Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe-Zambia.
  88. Get to name an ice cream flavor.
  89. Use a metal detector to find something cool.
  90. Be a source of love and kindness for those in need.
  91. Write a cookbook with someone.
  92. Go paintballing!
  93. Partake in the Chinese Lantern Festival.
  94. Learn how to drive a four-wheeler.
  95. Visit the AgitAgueda art festival and see the Umbrella Project in Agueda, Portugal.
  96. Have a massive dance party at my wedding.
  97. Say hello – be someone who sees and hears people.
  98. Create a home library.
  99. Go river tubing!

100. Cross one off and add two more (thank you / shout out to Mitchell Tenpenny).

Chapter 9 – Tiny moments

Life is really such a strange concept.

In one way, it makes so much sense. After all, we do get to live it every day, and I don’t know about you, but it’s not like I walk around in a constant state of questioning the meaning of meaning. (I mean, in truth, sometimes I do, but that only happens when I am in a funk.)

Let me be clear: I believe it is an absolute privilege we get to live every day.

If life was a book – or, to go back to the earlier analogy, a movie – we are the narrators, and each day is a page, a movie scene from the larger scope of it all.

But in another sense, when you take a step back and really think about it, life is preposterous.

The movie Life Itself depicts its dual nature of being so simple yet so inconceivably complex, and proposes the following idea:

What if, perhaps, life is the real narrator, leading us through a series of coincidences, intertwining our individual narratives with those we cannot see?

If life really is our narrator, do we let it tell us “What is meant to be is meant to be”?

or

Do we throw caution to the wind and define this as our own meant to be, deliberately choosing and living in the experiences that allow us to fully embody the entirety of our dream’s yearnings?

We all live and live and live, and somehow, the pages turn. The days bleed into weeks, into years, into decades – into one another.

How often is it that you actually live? How often do you take a step back and really breathe in the day? Step outside and beam at the morning sun? Actually stop and smell the flowers (or the coffee)?

Do one thing different so that this Tuesday is different from last Tuesday is different from the next Tuesday is different from Wednesday?

If you don’t take a chance on something new, something different, are you really narrating your own life, or is life narrating your life?

Are you a passive respondent or an active participant in the day?

If you think about it, life is an incredible series of tiny moments strung together into something meaningful:

A quick peek outside, a sliver of a brilliant, fiery sunrise, the sky laced with unimaginable colors.

A morning cup of coffee, steaming and brewed to perfection, infusing the air with a wonderful toasty and chocolatey warmth.

A patch of wildflowers, bright, bold, and unyielding against nature’s toughest elements.

A butterfly rescue mission, a gentle movement to hopefully restore the gracious beauty of such a fragile creature.

A smile, an interaction, a compliment, exchanged with a coworker, a friend, a barista, a store employee.

A listening ear, a hug, a space to cry, the perfect response for when you don’t quite know what you need.

A walk, a podcast, a new idea, the freedom to think and simply just be with your thoughts.

A phone call, a text, an email, simple words of encouragement, wonder, hope, and love come to you when needed most.

A bite of pizza with a friend, family, a significant other, the first drop of food after a long, grueling day.

A thought, a reflection, a thanks to the above that things are going to be okay, that things are looking up.

Tiny moments are like tiny string lights: they are strung all about, here and everywhere. At a distant glance, they are magical and full of possibility, a thing of beauty, a unified something you long to be a part of. Up close, though, they are unique, distinct.

Only you have the power to make meaning and discernment of the tiny moments that thread your life. Others can help, but at the end of the day, you have to believe in your ability to play an active role in your everyday life. You have to believe in your ability to create meaning and to imbue personality and stake in the significance you find in these tiny moments.

Scott Barry Kaufman is a brilliant cognitive scientist and psychologist who conducts research within the realms of intelligence, creativity, and self-actualization. I read and listened to a number of his materials during my creativity course. Perhaps one of the most enlightening pieces of research I read was his exploration of some of the common traits possessed by creative individuals. Though I certainly could not have guessed what I thought was the number one trait, I was unsurprised to find it was “openness to experience.”1 (This is to say, individuals who are more apt to jump right into new, unfamiliar, or unique experiences with wonder and curiosity are more likely to be highly creative people.)

Why is that?

Well, research aside, I guess I would point you back toward the idea of wanderlustfulness. For me, I found freedom, as well as the allowance to dream, when I slowly let go of my more rigid tendencies. I found spontaneity offered me the chance to leap and grasp at the edge of my dreams and desires. And when I had a firm hold, I could pull harder, explore more.

“But what if something bad happens?”

But what if it doesn’t?

What if “bad” is just a fabricated word, and each moment is simply that – a moment in time that altered your course of action?

For me, each new experience has cultivated an undeniable sense of wonder and zest to see more, as if I were attempting to answer the question: how in the world is it even possible to explore the entire world? I really like to think, but this is such an unfathomable concept to comprehend I’ve given up. There are hidden nooks and crannies all over – literally in your backyard. When you are in a plane, soaring 20,000-some-odd feet above all the individuals seemingly unaware of your sky-high existence, you begin to further grasp the wider extent of these hidden nooks and crannies. And so then, when you start Internet searching for the hidden wonders of the world – well that’s silly, if they are hidden, why would you be able to uncover them with a simple Google search? – you finally realize, you just have to go and see for yourself the limitless possibilities that exist beyond the scope of your everyday world.

But.

I think allowing yourself to be open to new experiences is the exact answer to overcoming the overwhelming idea that the world is too vast for us to explore in a lifetime. Being open to new experiences means narrating your life – with agency, with autonomy – not as a single thing, but rather, as a collection of tiny moments that when you look back and reflect, make you entirely confident you indeed have chosen to be not just the narrator, but also the author of your own life.

You have the privilege to dictate the narrative to life itself.

So, what are you waiting for?

What’s stopping you from doing the things you always wanted to do?

Notes:

  1. Published as a book excerpt on Scientific American. For more, check out Wired to Create: Unraveling the Mysteries of the Creative Mind by Scott Barry Kaufman and Carolyn Gregoire.

It’s not life if you aren’t living

I find it laughable I think I have the audacity to talk about living life.

For almost as long as I can recall, I have let school and work, and the stress of school and work, dictate my days. My to-do lists have to-do lists, and you bet my not one but two calendars are color-coded to the max. 

You could say I am a bit type A. 

But you know, over the years, I have grown. If you could not have guessed based on the previous chapters, I attribute a lot (most) of this personal growth to my time in Alabama. It was here I learned to embrace a sense of (planned) spontaneity, learned to be comfortable with the uncomfortable. 

I learned I could slow down, take a deep breath, and even embrace the occasional Wednesday night sleepover. 

I have tried to remember this mindset while in graduate school. I enjoyed being a force of type A nature during the workday and a whimsical human of type B energy on the weekends. Different days and weeks and months seem to have me forgetting the importance of this lesson. But it is during these time periods I recall a graphic t-shirt I once saw someone wearing:

I was on a hike, naturally, hauling my butt up a mountain. I paused to move out of the way for some fellow hikers coming down the slope, looked up, and noticed the phrase 

Every day is a living spree. 

Life is short.

Priorities and things are endless.

There is good in the unknown. In the tiny, unexpected moments. And even in the magic of the ordinary.  

No, I am certainly not the best-equipped person to preach about spontaneity and whole-hearted living. But I live to learn, to observe, and to say “yes” when I normally would have said “no.” 

I live to live. 

And so should you.

Who needs a plan when the sun is shining?

Mitchell Tenpenny

Chapter 8 – Everything in-between

You know, I initially wanted to call this chapter:

“Everything in Between: Alabama, Alabama, a spoonful of Minnesota, a sprinkle of Texas, and an indefinite amount of Georgia.” 

Mostly, I thought this was an accurate synopsis of the current state of my being – I am all of the places I have lived. I also thought this title would tie together both ends of “Wander.” But then I realized it was just too long. So, I shortened it.

When I first left Minnesota, I thought I would be coming back. In fact, before graduating from TCU, I was all set to move to Iowa to attend graduate school. But then along came Alabama….and I suppose this is where they say, “the rest is history.” 

But what if,

instead of,

“the rest is history,” 

it’s, 

the rest is everything in-between, WE are the everything in-between?

I am a Minnesota gal by way of family roots and a Southern gal by way of individual spirit and adventure. I am shaped by the people I have met and the opportunities I was granted. Yes, I think we really and truly are products of these in-between moments, but it’s only when we get to where we are headed that we remember where we came from.

Especially when that means you have been a state-hopping fiend in the middle of it all. 

So, to all the friends and family in between, thank you for all you have done for me over the years. Because as much as I am the in-between, you all are the reasons for this in-between. You are the places, the ideas, the strength I can draw on amidst my mountain escapades and beach liberations. 

And thank you to myself – and you – because being an adult, a human, means we get to experience and heal from heartbreak. We get to pick ourselves back up and see the world. We get to decide what type of person we want to be.

And it’s okay if that ultimately means starting over. 

Being a human means we get to live the ferocious, joyous highs and the sad, lonely lows. 

And to the actual things, memories, experiences, and places in-between – thank you for always being a wondrous adventure. For opening doors. For revealing the marvel of everyday adventures. For opening my eyes to the lucky pennies lying all around. For teaching me about myself, growth, others, hardships, journeys. For showing me life is more than the whim of an idea we jotted down one day in seventh-grade health class because we were told: “we need to have a plan.” For being there and seeing me through. For reminding me that somehow, someway, it all gets better, that patience is key. 

Never take the everything in-between for granted.

These are the memories, the stories, the ideas that thread the everyday of life. They propel you, push you, define you. They are you. They are yours. Hold onto them dearly and never let go.

The mountains are where I go to find myself,

the beach to let go of myself.

Everything in between is just fair game.