Zero Fucks
Have you ever seen a photo of yourself that captured everything that matters about you? While cleaning out my attic this spring I found just that photo. I believe I’m in about the third or fourth grade. I’m wearing my beloved tennis shoe roller skates. I remember getting these. No more metal! No more keys! I am also wearing bellbottoms and my favorite velour turtle neck. I am at the top of our dead-end street, with the field behind, at the beginning of the gentle descent. The day is overcast and I’m sure cold. The wind has blown my hair back revealing my high and bumpy forehead, a forehead I would soon learn to hide behind bangs in all future photos after being teased about it in school. But not this day. This day I give zero fucks about anything but just being on my skates. I radiate joy and confidence. Just happy to be rolling down the street. Man, I love that girl.
Looking at that picture I realized I have completely lost my connection with that level of confidence and joy. When did that happen to me? Did I slowly give my joy away over time or did I just lose it all at once somewhere? Is there any item or activity would bring me that much happiness today? Not having an answer to that gave me pause. I put that photo up in my office as a reminder that I need to bring that girl back.
I would like to say that I got a pair of skates and reclaimed my joy! I feel like there is a nice story there but alas it is not mine. I never became a great skater and now over 50, have a healthy fear of the long-term effects of falling. No. I’m not exactly sure why but in the haze of responsibilities that my adult life has become, I have lost that connection to what is fun. And what is worse, I have become resigned to that. But this photo stood on my desk, calling like a siren to me. And so I began to listen.
What brings me unbridled joy? What takes me out of it all into sheer happiness? What is it that when I do it, the whole world fades away? The answer came to me when I was on one of my weekly phone calls with my brother who lives across the country. With the pandemic lifting a bit we were wondering about a visit. As soon as I entertained the idea of flying to see him my joy came rushing to me in a wave. I wanted to go camping. I wanted to head into the outdoors. The unknown. The great expanse. The rocks and rivers and flowers.
The next thing I knew I was packing up my backpack and stepping aboard a plane. We drove into the wilderness of Arizona, planted our tents, and headed for a hike. We walked past boulders and budding bushes, taking in breathtaking views. Lizards crossed our paths and birds circled our heads. The sun baked us while the wind cooled us. I scrambled out onto a huge boulder while my brother snapped my picture. And now I have that picture. And there I am. In my camping pants and floppy hat. All smiles. And giving zero fucks.
