Risk

No, not the board game. Although I have spent many Christmas/New Year holidays with our family friends playing the game of strategic conquest (when you get two older brothers and their friends together, you're not playing Boggle, I'll tell you that much). And if you're any kind of Seinfeld fan at all, you already love this scene from the label maker episode. "The Ukraine is weak!" 

For this post I'm thinking of risk more in terms of putting yourself out there. In terms of exposing yourself to possible downfall or heartbreak or letdown or danger. This kind of risk is not a game...real people are involved in this one.

This idea of risk started to bounce around in my head ever since my brother Alex, who is a lawyer, brought up the concept of "Assumption of Risk" a long time ago. Maybe it was his first year of law school, I don't know, but it stuck with me. Apparently it was in a torts class (I guess that's a category of laws, but to me it sounds more like dessert) and basically you can cite "Assumption of Risk" as a possible defense to not get the pants sued off of you. Hopefully I'm understanding it correctly. For example, if you're playing a soccer game, someone slide tackles you, and you tear your ACL, the slide-tackler does not have a responsibility to pay for your medical bills. By suiting up in that soccer jersey and stepping on the field, you assumed that playing the game involves a certain level of risk. And since you love the game, you happily accepted and played in spite of that risk. You take responsibility for the fact that it's your own fault for joining in if you get hurt during the normal play of the game.

I also think of this with playgrounds. By climbing up on those monkey bars, you are taking on that Assumption of Risk. You might fall (and dang does hitting those wood chips below ever hurt!) but you also might finally conquer that farmer's flip you've been perfecting for your entire kindergarten career.

People are like monkey bars. You need to acknowledge the Assumption of Risk when it comes to people. Anytime you have a friendship, relationship, or interaction with another human being, you're risking something. The closer you get, the more you jeopardize in the process. The possibilities for love and friendship are worth it, and so most of us see fit to take that risk. But what happens when it all blows up? We all know the feeling of free-falling to a thud on the ground below the monkey bars, only to have the wind knocked out of us once we get there. It's not pleasant. People can hurt. People can leave you gasping for air. When that initial impact passes, do you yell curses up at the monkey bars? No. You pick yourself up, walk it off, and try that farmer's flip again. When you open yourself up to people, you take that risk. It's not anyone's fault, it's just never a sure thing with people. You give them the power to knock the wind right out of you. Hey, remember that you can do the same hurt to others when they trust you! But the beauty of it all is that next time it might not end up that way. You can learn from every single fall and every single scrape and bruise those wood chips leave on your knees. You risked it, it didn't work out as you'd planned, but you're still going forward better, smarter, and readier than before.

One of my all-time favorite literary characters is a sad little guy named J Alfred Prufrock. T.S. Eliot wrote a whole poem from his sad little perspective. J Alfred is so consumed with his fear of taking risks that he is completely paralyzed. He says he measures his life in coffee spoons and obsesses over the question: "Do I dare eat a peach?" Dude, when you start to have an existential crisis over fruit, you know you need to lighten up.

What I'm trying to say here is that we can't end up like my friend J. Alfred Prufrock. I can't sit on the sidelines of friendships and relationships for fear of getting burned or getting my feelings hurt. We can't sit on the grass while the rest of the world is playing on the jungle gym. I read somewhere that "life is between the trapeze bars," that in order to really live, you have to risk a little too. I'd rather have my life measured in jumps and falls than in coffee spoons. Safe is nice, but safe can become a crutch.

I'm working on facing those monkey bars again. The world is just too full of interesting people and exciting opportunities to not climb back up that ladder. And if I do say so myself, I can execute an outstanding farmer's flip.