Rambunctiousness, Recklessness, and Restraint

I suppose you could define me by my willingness to forgo sanity and do the stupid and incredibly fun things that could certainly kill me if anything went wrong. I’ve always been reckless, even since I learned to walk and probably before that, I have no doubt that even before I was born I was getting into some kind of catastrophic mess in one way or another. The earliest disasters I caused happened so long ago that the only reason I know they happened is because my parents took pictures. 

"A Picture is worth 1000 words." - Fred R. Bernard 

In my case they seem to repeat the words 'oh no', 'ouch', and 'yikes' a lot.  Yes that's me in a torpedo tube.

My younger years were spent under near constant surveillance, but it still didn’t stop me from climbing the fridge and sticking my finger in a light socket.  Nor was I prevented, despite the best efforts of those who professed to know better, from climbing on the roof, down a nearby tree, and going to my neighbor’s home in the middle of the night to watch their dancing Santa decoration while snow was falling on me.  

My most notorious escapade took place just before my 8th birthday, nearly 20 years ago, while I was still living in Alpine.  That particular year had been an exceptionally snowy one, so far as my memory extends at least, and children like my friends and of course, reckless little me, were out sledding.  I remember it being very bright on this particular day, and we had gone to our favorite sledding hill, we used to call it “Cemetery Hill” as a matter of fact (due to it being very near to the local cemetery).  But something new had cropped up on our familiar hill, and that was a ramp.

Now, I don’t know if the ramp was entirely made of snow, or was something more solid that had simply been covered up, but I do know that the snow was covered by a much more slick and dangerous layer of ice.  In this case I am certain you can guess what happened, but it wouldn’t be a good story if I simply gave it all away at once, now would it?  As it was I immediately took my round purple sled up the hill and lined myself up with the jump.  My more prudent friend Gabe was there, and he warned me not to do it.  I didn’t listen.

Within moments of setting off I was experiencing the weightless ecstasy of being in the air, a split second of absolute stasis, before I came hurtling to the ground like a fifty pound meteorite.  I remember the impact itself wasn’t all that painful, in fact I only felt a little numb as I opened my eyes and began to move.  That’s when everything started to hurt, especially my left arm, which had broken like a twig with my graceless landing.  Every movement was another lance of incendiary pain that clawed up my arm and behind my eyes, shredding my brain to pieces and reducing me to a sobbing mess

Gabe ran and got my dad, who then took me to the doctor, who then x-rayed my arm, which then showed the consequences of my idiocy.  It took my arm a whole eight weeks to heal to the point where they would take off my cast, during which my birthday rolled on by.  We went bowling, which was just as fun one armed.  My guests even signed my cast, which I, of course, still have. As I got older, I just got more reckless, and went from simply climbing and running, to getting into actually dangerous situations and somehow having fun.  This recklessness did have its consequences, though, and I have several scars and marks on me from injuries I inadvertently inflicted in, on, and to myself.   The arm I broke while sledding was certainly one of the more dramatic consequences of my adrenaline seeking self, but hardly the last.

 In fact my hyperactive and incredibly disruptive behaviour successfully got me a six month suspension from grade school and convinced my mother to start getting me psychiatric help at the tender age of ten.  After that, I was subjected to medication after medication, from a disastrous trial with Adderall that left me screaming and weeping while being restrained by two Karate instructors, to the brand I’m on now that has significantly mellowed me out, but not entirely repressed my rambunctious, raucous, and rowdy spirit.  

Self control, emotional and mental and physical and spiritual, became a necessity for me, not just a goal.  So much of myself has to be held back and restrained that the few opportunities I got to cut loose were and are even more impactful.  So I ended up on stage, performing and releasing my energy there.  I found my way to sports, which I didn’t particularly like much, as they had too many rules.  I took up cliff diving every chance I got, and even got myself scuba certified, all in order to sate my unending hunger for some kind of adventure.   I know I'm not the only person subject to this compulsion, I am far from the first adrenaline junkie in the world, and I'm even farther from the most extreme. But it's still an ongoing desire, and it can make life a bit hard at times. Especially on vacations or trips. People like me start wandering around almost instantly, looking for something to grab our attention, like fish looking for a hook to bite.

It's actually remarkable that I survived as long as I have, with my adventures and misadventures leading me to get lost in Budapest, stuck on a cliff in Goblin Valley, on an IV in a hospital in Houston, lost in the mountains behind my grandparent’s home, and buried under a foot of dirt and a motorcycle after falling from ledge on that self same motorbike.  

That, I think, is the closest I’ve ever actually come to dying.  But it wasn’t on purpose, in fact I had no idea the ledge was even there until it was too late to stop.  You see, I had been riding my motorcycle down in southern Utah, I’m not sure exactly where, and I had actually covered this same ground before, several times.  What made this particular instance different, however, was the fact that a rainstorm had rolled through recently, and washed out parts of the riding area.

So it was that I came atop a hill I had crested several times before, the engine roaring in my ears and the cloudy sky watching from above as clumps of dirt were cast up from my wheels to spatter over me, the bike, and the nearby scrub.  I hit my throttle, aiming for the far side of the hill, intending to ride down the slightly steeper far slope.

Unfortunately for me, there wasn’t a slope there anymore, the rain having caused the dirt to collapse and wash away, leaving behind only a soft pile of loosely packed soil. I did see the ledge before going off of it, and for some insane reason I braked in such a way that I went off the edge before my motorcycle did.  I landed in the dirt close to the now sheer face, and my motorcycle landed about three feet away, on top of the stuff I was now buried in to the hips.

It speaks to luck, fortune, and the grace of God Himself that I walked away from that without any real injuries.  I don’t think I was even scratched, and the bike suffered only a bent brake handle, but even so I definitely paid more attention to where I rode that motorcycle after that.  

I can’t really say I regret it all that much, however, as my wandering spirit has also got me into a few places I would never otherwise have gone.  The tragically calm and beautiful city of Sarajevo, stuck in my memory like an old friend.  The magnificent view from the shores of Tonga, New Zealand, Australia, and Jamaica, each with their own ocean that reached forever and ever.  The camping trips with my family, particularly my dad, where I was free to explore and climb and read to my heart's content.

Nothing really compares to that particular gamble of adventure.  I could either end it with memories more precious than diamonds and rarer than gold, or I could find myself with broken limbs and a story to tell.  I could find a new best friend or a quiet little tea shop that soothes my soul like no other earthly place can, or I could go away with little to remember but a single street performance.  I could walk underneath life size dinosaurs in the frigid wind, or I could discover a tiny cave that no one but a wandering child could find.

It is the ultimate game I could possibly play, putting myself at odds against nature herself, daring her to do her worst.  Jumping from cliffs in exhilaration and plummeting into mercilessly cold water below even as she watches and rolls the dice against my soul, careening toward glorious satisfaction or desperate pain.  Swimming down farther than humans are intended to go with only metal and rubber keeping me from a death billions before me already suffered as we play poker with my life as the stakes.