Dust If You Must

Lately, I've been thinking quite a bit about risk, both the personal and the professional kind. These big balloon-like questions consistently float around in my head: do I give up this to do that? what if I give up this to do that, and that doesn't work out? do I risk what happiness I have for something that may bring none at all? Taking risks feels dangerous. Even the word itself is short and abrupt, similar to the sound we make when our faces hit the floor after trying something new (it's happened to all of us). It can dramatically affect the things we value: our savings accounts, our cherished routines, our valued relationships, and even our hearts.

Like the most perfect synchronized swimming, a friend gave me an article on happiness in the midst of all of these thoughts. After hundreds of studies with thousands of candidates, there was one common result: those that risk more know more happiness. Despite the result, there's some part of our souls that is enlivened and delighted that we possess the courage to take a chance. We even subconsciously congratulate ourselves for a losing hand, simply because we know we were able to push past fear to put ourselves in the middle of the game. And through each leap of faith and each scary move, we collect experiences that surpass the happiness of a safely lived life.

In the words of an anonymous author...

Dust if you must, but there's not much time,

With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world's out there,
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,

Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go—and go you must—
You, yourself, will make more dust.