Learning Something Every Day

These last couple of weeks before I leave have become a jumble of packing, painting, planning, and trying to get some last-minute training done before I launch. I haven’t had a lot of time to write, but between the gym and ornamentation of the NapCamper, I have had a lot of time to think about what all of this preparation has taught me. The lessons of the largest art project I’ve ever endeavored and the biggest physical challenge I’ve set for myself have taught me a few things.

The first thing I’ve learned is that writing stuff down makes all the difference in the world. I’ve kept a detailed log of my workouts and my changes in nutrition, not because having created a record makes a difference, but because the process of creating a record does. Studies show that dieters who write down what they eat at the time they eat it and maintain a log throughout their diet are more successful at losing weight and maintaining weight loss. It keeps me on track with exercise, too, and it’s helping me keep track of the other minutiae I have to manage as I prep the NapCamper and organize travel details.

The second lesson is that you have to decide what to be and go be it.  I knew the moment I heard this line from the Avett Brothers song, “Head Full of Doubt,” that it would be my mantra for this endeavor. I wrote in on a post-it and stuck it to my dash, and I think about it every single day. It powers my work-outs, it gets me through procrastination, it keeps me from giving up. I know what I want to be and all of my physical efforts and mental energy are focused on that goal. Waiting around for approval or permission is just that—waiting. And waiting isn’t doing.

Last week, my friend and former colleague Jen Bradbury spoke at my school about her new novel, Wrapped, and she said that all of her stories begin with the question What If? What a way to live a life, too: to live every day as an endeavor to answer the question what if. What if I treat my life as an experiment to see how fit I can possibly become? What if I approach every task in my life, like refurbishing a NapCamper or training for triathlons, as an art project--with limited boundaries, full of opportunities to be creative, certain to teach me something, and undeniably fun.

I am still learning, and trying to practice the principle that if you’re not laughing, you’re not doing it right—whatever “it” is.  Whether you’re having sex, exercising your ass off, at work, painting a weird-looking homemade camper, or attending a funeral, if there isn’t at least some portion of the program punctuated by laughter, you’re missing out. Life is ridiculous, inexplicable, frustrating, and temporary, with special emphasis on the ridiculousness, so we might as well laugh.

Learn something every day, whether you want to or not.  The NapCamperwas built by a boatbuilder and the inside does feel like a boat cabin. But that might be true of all homemade wood campers, I can’t say.  All I know is that boats have ribs and my camper has ribs and I thought it would look really cool if I painted them gold. This was a good idea. As a project, it was a pain in the ass (see photo). I will say that lying on my back painting upside down was an excellent way to suffer a preview of what it will be like to awake each morning and thump my head on the ceiling. 

Fail. Fail again. Fail better is a lesson I'm borrowed from absurdist playwright Samuel Beckett. In weight training, "failing" means lifting a weight until your muscle(s) refuse(s) to perform. In other words, you work as hard as you can until you can't work any more. Every project requires some failure, or else there's no lesson to be learned. Most of my lessons so far have been small failures that have taught me to plan before I act, to forge ahead with confidence, to trust the people who offer assistance, and not to take myself so seriously. 

Use this day. “Let me respectfully remind you, life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by, and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken… awaken. Take heed, do not squander your life. — Evening Chant ,Zen Mountain Monastery

I am thankful every day that I get this one opportunity to be a biological entity on this planet, mainly because I believe that this is it—I don’t get to come back and do it over, or go somewhere else after I die and do it again differently. I’m here now, in this configuration of carbon-based cells, and eventually I won’t be. I’m 15 for a moment, then 22, 33, 45, and eventually I’ve used up my 100 years.  How do I want each year to look? How about each day that makes up each year?  How do I want this project, this trip, and this mission to affect me as I pursue it and after I've completed?“How we spend our days,” wrote Annie Dillard, “is, of course, how we spend our lives.”