Back in the day, when I was in my first job out of college, I recall a conversation with my boss. We were talking about the value of doing everything with everything you have. Never doing anything half-assed. "Always," we joked, "approach a task with the whole ass."
It's a philosophy that both cracks me up and rings true, in everything I do. When I do something, I do it with my everything. When I run, I put everything I have out on the trail. I dance knowing people might be watching, but I really just don't care. I write and I edit and I re-write, putting the best creativity I can into each project, whether it's this blog post or a radio spot or a magazine story or a message to an old friend.
And don't even get me started about food. I eat with more gusto than one person should be able to muster.
If it has anything to do with any of my five senses - and let's face it, that leaves literally nothing out - I dive in. This leaves me with great potential for highs and lows. This is the roller coaster of my life.
Extreme highs, like celebrating engagements, meeting fascinating people, trying something new (and perhaps foolish).
Extreme lows, like acknowledging a friend's illness, being turned down for a promotion, and saying goodbye.
There are plenty of in-between moments, too, but my life is riddled with highs and lows. The anticipation of the uphill and the adrenaline of the down. I don't know any other way to be, honestly. Every time I've been hurt, I've vowed to just stop feeling. With the number of loved ones in my life, I stand to spend a lot of time at funerals when I grow old, and it sure would be easier if I could stop loving people
Not better. And when is the last time you saw me deliberately choose the easy route?
The whole ass, as often as humanly possible. Arms outstretched, running with a laser-sharp focus into the unknown.