“Come onnnn. Just take off your clothes! It will be fun!”
We had just eaten dinner under a cabana at a restaurant in Charleston, South Carolina. Before that, we had sipped on white wine at a rooftop bar, and before that, we walked through a park in Savannah, Georgia where Spanish moss trees hung like a canopy overheard.
When I was younger, I had a fear of never seeing the world— never being fortunate enough to go places and see things that I so desperately wanted to experience. Nowadays, I count my blessings for the life I’ve had the privilege of living. I think back to that little girl and remind myself that I am doing what I once dreamed of.
After dinner, my friend took us to the beach to stargaze. We walked down a long boardwalk with our flashlights illuminating the way, and we sat in the sand, heads back, looking for the Big Dipper.
We listened to the waves crash against the shore. There’s something so soothing about being at the beach at night. To hear those sounds but not see them. To know that the waves still kiss the shoreline even when no one is watching. I closed my eyes and felt the blood rush through my veins. I felt alive the way you do when you realize that the source of your happiness comes from simply being alive.
“Have you ever skinny dipped in the ocean? Let’s do it! What do we have to lose?”
So, we ran. Down to the where the waves crash against the shore, slipped off our shoes and clothes, and piled them on top of each other. Hand in hand, we ran into the water laughing and thought each dark shadow was someone coming to expose our nude bodies.
But that didn’t stop us. At first, we agreed to not get our hair wet. We didn’t have towels, so we didn’t want to go through the struggle of walking back to the car and sitting for the twenty-five minute ride with water dripping down our backs. That’s where we drew the line.
Until, I realized that wet hair is the most insignificant excuse for not having more fun. So, I unclipped my hair, handed the clip to my friend, and when she asked why I wanted her to hold it, I said, “You only live once. We’re going under!”
We laughed so much. It was the kind of night you just know you’ll never forget. The kind you’ll think about when you don’t have the liberty of being so carefree and careless. You’ll go back to that night, smile, and thank yourself for building memories that’ll last a lifetime.
That night, when we got back to my friend’s apartment, we took turns showering. I was waiting my turn, scrolling through Facebook, and saw the post. A 96-year old woman, who I had tutored before the pandemic took over, passed away that night. She had caught pneumonia and had lost the fight. 96 years. A full life. A full, full life.
It dawned on me then. That every time I worry about finding a full-time job. Every time I worry about finding a compatible partner. Every time I worry about having it all together and living out my life, I am denying myself the beauty of my present.
You don’t build a life by planning out each and every part. I mean, sure, there are parts you need to plan. But don’t stay there. Don’t plan everything and then forget to simply live.
You build a life by living. By saying yes to vacations with your girlfriends. By saying yes to star gazing on the beach. By saying yes to skinny dipping in the ocean at night. By saying yes to the little opportunities that feel small but will add up over time. By just doing whatever the hell feels like it’s going to bring you happiness.
Because when you get to the end, you’re when 96-years old and you take your very last breath, you don’t want to think, “Man, I had so much potential and so much passion and so much availability and I just planned it all away.” You want to look back and say, “Thank God I unclipped my hair and dove into the water. Thank God I went to see the Spanish moss trees. Thank God I stopped worrying about when it’s all going to come together and realized that I don’t need to know where I’m going. I just need to know where my feet are.”
This may sound really cliche, but live your life. Stop worrying about everything. Stop thinking about the fact that you don’t have enough money or can’t fit into the shorts you bought two years ago or that you have acne on your face. Just live your life. I can promise you that at 96-years old, you will not give a damn about the things you’re worrying about right now. I know for a fact that the woman I tutored over a year ago would say the same.
Build your life by living it. If it makes you feel any better, the Wrights Brothers built a plane and had no idea how it flew. They just knew it flew. So, not everywhere you go needs a destination. The journey is way more exciting when you realize that the only way to get somewhere is to be on your way.
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