Earlier this summer, I finally got around to reading The Authenticity Project by Clare Pooley. Have you read it?
The book came out in 2020 and became a New York Times bestseller, so naturally I read it approximately six years after everyone else. We've previously established my TBR has its own timeline.
And like most of the books I read, there were a few passages that really stuck with me.
One such passage was when one of the characters, looking back at a younger version of himself, remembers how he used to travel, seek out adventures, learn new things and wonders aloud whether it’s possible to become that person again. He says of one such memory:
"...it made me think that perhaps I could rediscover that sense of wonder and joy. I hope so. I don't think I can bear the idea of living the rest of my life with no highs."
It was the last sentence that really got me.
Not because I think life should be one long series of fabulous trips and cinematic moments. Honestly, that sounds exhausting. And expensive. And eventually someone still has to unload the dishwasher or figure out why the printer—which worked perfectly yesterday—has suddenly decided it has never met my computer. (Open wound, folks.)
But it stuck with me because I could feel the fear underneath the thought.
You know, that quiet worry that maybe wonder belonged to an earlier version of us. Or that adventure was something we did when we were younger. Or that maybe the most interesting parts of life—and of us—are behind us.
I don’t actually believe those things. But I do think we can accidentally start living as though they're true.
And I'm guessing that’s why two recent conversations on the podcast really stayed with me.
When I talked with Cynthia Morris, she told me about what she calls her Adventure Resume. Instead of recording jobs and professional accomplishments, she mapped the experiences and choices that had shaped her life. Looking at it, she could suddenly see herself more clearly—her love of travel, learning, growth and trying new things running through it like a trail of breadcrumbs.
I loved that.
And then, in my conversation with Teresa Thomas, we talked about her 50 Fun Things practice. Teresa started it as she approached 50, when she had one of those useful midlife realizations (not crisis) that time is precious and “someday” is not, in fact, an actual date on the calendar.
Her original list included bigger things like traveling with friends, but also something as ordinary as ordering a latte instead of her usual practical black coffee.
Naturally, this spoke to me -- because let the record show I have never once accused a latte of being frivolous.
But what I really liked about Teresa’s idea is that it isn’t a bucket list designed to prove we’re still alive. It’s simply about paying attention to the things that sound like fun and the things we want to try.
And then—and this is the part I’m still practicing—not immediately submitting those desires to a seven-member internal review board for a cost-benefit analysis of whether it is a responsible use of a Tuesday.
Teresa also shared that once she started naming what she wanted, she began noticing opportunities for those things. Which made me me wonder how often we miss an opportunity simply because we haven’t admitted we wanted it in the first place.
To be clear, I don’t think the answer is flinging ourselves through every open door yelling YOLO. I’m 57. I require decent shoes, eight hours of sleep, and reliable access to a bathroom. (Plus, if I'm honest, I'm probably too old to be saying things like YOLO)
But I can get better at noticing. At taking my own curiosity seriously. At remembering that the point of being alive cannot possibly be to become extremely efficient at maintaining a life we’re too busy to actually experience.
And I'm pretty sure that’s why I like these two exercises together. The Adventure Resume shows us the thread linking the experiences behind us and the 50 Fun Things list gives us something to look forward to.
One says: I see you and what you love (and everything together makes more sense than you might think). The other asks: What sounds good now?
And why do we need to know our thread and what sounds good? Because we are not finished having fun (or having adventures or doing things just because we want to).
So, what's the thread running through your past (mine is my love of hosting things -- more on that later)? And what's one thing you'd put on your 50 things I'd like to try?
