How Much Truth is There in Daring to Live?

“You have your whole life ahead of you.”

That was the “wisdom” that was offered me recently when I was discussing my future plans for travel, plans that involve hitting the road with my young children for an extended period of time. It was advice given as if to say, why take the trouble to travel now when it is so much “harder”? Why not just wait until it is easier, quicker, less challenging, safer?

And it was said with such authority, as if its truth was so sage that I should accept it as fact and embroider it on a pillow for my overstuffed couch.

I outwardly sighed and inwardly burned. I have heard these words before. Not just from this bearer of bad advice, but from popular culture, as well. It is so ingrained in our psyche, perhaps for self-preservation, that we are all allotted a standard life expectancy of about 85 years give or take a decade. We cling so desperately to this notion that our humanity refuses to take a look around and confront the reality that it is not true. A life that progresses seamless from birth to childhood to adulthood with nary a bump in the road maybe what we imagine to be the perfect (American) human right, but it’s far from certain. In fact, it’s much more certain that things will not go according to plan.

It seems like I have my whole life ahead of me, and technically I do. I have whatever life has been graciously gifted to me in the grand scheme of time. In my coveted status of a person with enough health, wealth and prosperity, it seems that time-my whole life-is infinite. Or at least infinite enough to do an appropriate amount of living. In other words, as a person with the proper health/wealth ratio, I have enough of a cushion to pace myself. No need to hurry. No need to pursue anything with a rabid passion. No need to feel desperately motivated to greedily grab every opportunity on my path.

What a crock!

Right at this moment, my gloriously robust and vibrant body could be harboring a tiny black seed of life-stealing cancer in the most concealed cluster of cells. It is equal parts morbid and true. And while that may be the most dramatic opener of the “things that could go wrong tomorrow” chapter of my life book, it is far from the only plot twist. Even a subtle shift in the health of any one of my family members could change my ability to travel freely. Likewise the uncertain winds of economy could shift and knock me right off course. My husband could become disabled. My aging parents could become dependent. The morose list goes on.

To lighten the mood, there are also good things that could happen that could change my course. I could be offered a killer job that keeps me chained to a two week vacation. My kids could find an activity in which they excel and need dedicated practice. Said children will continue to grow and want to have jobs and lives of their own that could tie them down. The delicate balance of ability, desire, and means to travel may not always be so favorably tipped in my direction.

While I may actually (God Willing!) have the standard allotted life expectancy, there is no certainty that the years to come will be fields ripe with a harvest of opportunities or that the reaper will have the opportunity to harvest what may grow. That’s way too many unknowns for the future to give up the promise of right this minute.

You have your whole life ahead of you. What a pretty little lie. 

But it’s worse than a lie. Lies can often be used to soften the truth or protect the hearer from a harsh reality. Lies can be rooted in good. But, this is an excuse fancy dressed as a lie. A sentiment that at its very core is meant to encourage complacency, inaction, stagnancy, even fear.

I prefer my life to be truthful and daring.

Remember the game of truth or dare that some of us were unlucky enough to play in middle school? I always chose the truth, because I had nothing to hide and I had no intention of eating weird things or showing anyone my underwear. Basically, I was pretty boring, so the truth was an easy choice. When it comes to life though, I can’t choose between one or the other. I want the truth and the dare.

The truth is that I have no idea what the future holds. I only have the present. Knowing that truth forces me to be daring. I dare to take all the chances that are presented to me today, and I hope that tomorrow, I will get the chance to risk it all again.