A simple technique that could change your life forever.
"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined."
— Henry David Thoreau
Everyone stared up at me, shielding their eyes from the sweltering noonday sun. From my gusty perch, they all looked like ants baking on the white-hot concrete.
"Do it, you wussy!" someone taunted from below. Teenage girls snickered. I couldn't actually hear them snicker from way up there, of course, but I knew they were, regardless. It's what teenage girls do.
I inched as near to the edge of the platform as I dared and nervously peered over. From this vantage point, the Olympic swimming pool below looked like a bucket into which some deranged carny might plummet.
When I was growing up in Cullman, Alabama, our family made frequent summer pilgrimages to Point Mallard Water Park in Decatur. With a video game arcade, a riverbank beach frequented only by the kids smoking Vantage Ultra Lights, and a gigantic "wave pool" that tossed around tired children like an angry old washing machine, Point Mallard was a teenage rite of passage. The towering chain-link fence surrounding the compound wasn't as much to keep freeloaders out as it was to keep hormone-stricken teenagers corralled while their exhausted parents ducked out to the shopping mall or the closest package store. It was the perfect cage in which to pit awkward token-rich boys against one another in gladiatorial feats of pre-masculinity before a blood-hungry audience of giggly girls in bikinis. It was a terrible spectacle that sent scores limping home with savage strawberries from being dragged along wave pool walls and even deeper psychological scars from the Beyond Thunderdome manner in which we all plowed our way headfirst into puberty. Point Mallard was also home to a ten-meter high-dive platform where Olympic gold medalist Greg Louganis once trained.
"C'mon, kid," sighed the lifeguard. "Either jump or climb back down."
It was a motivational speech he gave a hundred times a day.
My choice was simple: jump and risk dying upon impact… or suffer a long, humiliating climb back down the three-story ladder while throngs of teenagers laughed and jeered. Death didn't seem so bad, so I jumped.
About ten years ago, I read a book called The 4-Hour Workweek by Timothy Ferriss. The book's "work smarter, not harder" mantra really spoke to me, as I was deeply fatigued following a couple of failed business ventures. Ferriss's book spun larger-than-life tales of solopreneurship and unlimited global travel fueled by powerful new internet marketing strategies. I soon set out to create such a business, and by 2011, my start-up had become self-sufficient enough that I could actually entertain the notion of unbridled travel through exotic lands.
But could we do it? Could we really bounce aimlessly around the world for a year? I wasn't too worried about our income stream, as I was already running the business entirely from my laptop at home. Couldn't I run it just as efficiently from Kuala Lumpur or Bosnia? I didn't have any employees or office to worry about—just a global network of talented and reliable freelancers who helped me keep all the wheels turning, precisely as Ferriss had prescribed.
But what about the kids and their schoolwork? Who would watch our house? Who would take care of our dog? What if something happened to our parents or grandparents while we were trekking through some Cambodian rainforest? "What ifs" are anchors that prevent life's ship from ever sailing. Truth be told, we had absolutely no clue how to pull off something so gargantuan. We just had my zealot-like belief in a book that promised me we could.
So, late one night on a wine-fueled spousal dare, we charged four non-refundable around-the-world plane tickets to our credit card for about $2,000 each from World Travellers' Club. We bought them six months in advance, giving ourselves time to figure things out… we hoped. Then, on Facebook, we blurted out what we'd done.
We established accountability. We had climbed the ladder.
Terrified, we now stood on a social media stage for some to speculate. Could we do it? Would we actually jump? Like my youth's Olympic platform, it was either jump or suffer public humiliation if we chickened out (not to mention a brutal financial loss). "I almost went around the world," I would one day tell my grandkids. Somehow that doesn't have quite the same inspirational ring to it.
Six months later, we boarded our first flight on an epic journey that would span more than twenty countries. We experienced adventures ranging from cooking lessons in Budapest to exploring snow-covered caves near the Syrian border to being guests of honor at a wedding in Rajasthan to being evacuated from our home during a prison riot in Bali. How did we do it? I honestly don't know. Ten years later, it seems inconceivable—too big to have achieved or to ever repeat. But we did do it. All because an irrational fear of ridicule outweighed our rational fear of failure.
Tips for "Climbing the Ladder" to Promote Life Change
Is there something you've always wanted to do but are simply too afraid to pull the trigger? Use these simple tips to help you finally take the leap of faith:
1. COMMIT in a tangible way. Buy a plane ticket. Submit your two-week notice. Make a big down payment. Put some skin in the game. This is climbing the ladder. Your decision is still reversible at this stage, but you can't back out without feeling some serious sting.
2. BRAG about your plan to anyone who will listen. Now that you've scaled the ladder, gather an audience as quickly as possible before you start having second thoughts—trust me, you will. Be shameless. Tell as many people as possible. The goal is to back yourself into a reputational corner. Always wanted to take surfing lessons in Nicaragua? Buy that ticket and then boast about it to your cubicle-locked buddies. Are you quitting your desk job so you can fulfill your dream of starting an ecotourism business? Put in your notice and share a Facebook page promoting your new endeavor. Serious consequences? Big time. Terrifying? Absolutely. But trust me, you will figure out a way to make it work. When landing on Mexico's shores in 1519, invader Hernán Cortés famously ordered his soldiers, "Burn the boats!" When returning the way you came is no longer an option, it's incredible what you can accomplish.
3. BRACE yourself for the jeers. "You couldn't pay me to go to China," they'll boast. "Four out of five start-ups fail," they'll warn. "Aren't you worried about terrorism?" they'll exclaim. You will start to question whether you're being responsible. You will begin to wonder if you're crazy. Maybe you are. But rest assured, the biggest rewards in this life go to those who take the biggest risks. Albert Einstein once said, "Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." Don't let mediocre minds taunt you back down the ladder.
4. JUMP. When the moment of truth finally arrives, you will have the courage to jump. And when you finally step off that ledge and begin your irreversible free fall, that's when you'll feel it: this is what it feels like to be alive.
Originally published in Beach Happy Magazine, Issue 7 (Winter 2022). Story by Mike Ragsdale.
