Life is a contact sport

Conversations at bars fall into one of two categories: 1. mindless, obscene banter or 2. deep, philosophical and full of life lessons.  Because I’m me (and if you’re reading this, you probably know me) my conversations at bars (and almost all of my conversations in life) fall into the second category.  

The other night I was out with a friend and we were discussing a recent “life event” of mine – a conversation that I had had with yet another person about the way to live life.  Ought one let fear dictate her/his actions?  Where does one draw the line on letting fear stop her/him from making certain decisions?  The conclusion that we came to is that there is no right answer.  My rough-around-the-edges and very wise friend said “life is a contact sport” (which makes more sense to my North American friends – contact sport being football, hockey, wrestling, soccer, it’s the classification for a sport in which physical contact is rampant, normal and encouraged).  I really liked this analogy.  Do you want to live life on the sidelines, watching other people feel and get hurt and score (all both metaphorically and literally speaking)?  I certainly don’t.  Getting hurt is just a part of living, whether it be heartbreak or a skinned knee.  Do you want to come to the end of your life and assess/evaluate and realize you had just settled?  I’ll take it a step further, can you go to bed at night, put your head on that pillow, alone with your thoughts and sleep peacefully knowing you lived that day to the fullest? 

The last words of advice from my wise friend – “drive [life] like a rental car.”  Amen, brother.   

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