Wanderlust is such a fun word. The strong desire to go somewhere, do something, to travel, to engage with differing cultures. See the world. Have an adventure.
Over the past few years, I’ve developed a wanderlust that is largely unsated. There’s an urge to be somewhere other than here. I have previously expressed some of my hopes to travel, but most of my dream destinations have gone unpublished.
I want the excitement, but haven't ventured out. While I could blame a commitment to grownup responsibilities, such a reason would be little more than a cheap excuse. The real blame for my unrequited thirst is in my own fears and insecurities. Somewhere along the way I’ve lost my sense of excitement. The timid side of me often wonders if I still know how to have an adventure. My inner critic tells me that I’m not a fun person anymore.
I remember what it’s like though.
Standing on the edge of a rock and looking into the abyss from the top of Mt Pilchuck; that was an adventure.
Snorting Altoids with Shane during an unsupervised trip to Nampa; that was an adventure.
When Shane ran out of Burger King with a 5 foot tall cardboard Dough Boy tucked under his arm and we were chased through Evergreen traffic by a security guard; that was an adventure.
Sneaking onto private property to visit an allegedly haunted graveyard after midnight; that was an adventure.
When Jeff and I flipped a coin to determine our road trip destination (heads Vancouver BC, tails Portland Oregon); that was an adventure.
Almost getting into a crash on Snoqualmie Pass when Shane and Travis mooned a van full of Methodist teen girls; that was an adventure.
The road trip with Tommy, Steve, and Nate to see Poor Old Lu’s reunion concert; that was an adventure.
Saying “I do” on April 5th 2003; that was an adventure. A week later when Bekah and I drove half way across the country to support my uncle’s church in Sioux Falls; that was also an adventure.
Becoming a dad in 2004; that was an adventure. Adopting two of the coolest kids you’ll ever meet; more adventure.
I remember how it felt, yet I’ve forgotten how to do it. And I don’t blame anyone for this loss of my adventurous nature. The responsibility is mine. Maybe I just got old. Maybe I became complacent. This is a need for change that I’ve recognized in myself.
As I mend the parts of me that needed fixed, the hunger inside of me grows. I long to have an adventure. I want to wake up in the morning and know that the day before me is going to be filled with wonder and awe. When I take stock of my life, I want to be able to honestly offer, “Or we could just go off and have some adventures. Anyone in the mood for adventures? 'Cause I am. You only live once.”
It grows. That wanderlust. The yearning to go places, meet peoples, do things. To be adventurous. Daring. And a little bit crazy.
Then I saw this.
There are a few things that I know. I know that I am a broken man in need of repair. But I also know that what has been lost can be rediscovered.
One other thing I know: I need men like this in my life. Guys who will say, "Lets do something wild. No matter what happens, I'll stand with you." Guys who will take risks and push me to do the same. Guys who will create the stories I tell my grandkids.
Maybe not the Rhythm in Twenty guys. Besides, the $350 + travel is a little out of my budget. But guys like them. I want to be able to say, "I am a better man because I invested in the lives of these guys and they invested in me."
Friends like that are hard to find.
ps: if you're interested in hearing more about Rhythm in Twenty - check out their website.