part 1: the adventure year
- Melinda
- May 3
- 6 min read
december 31, 2020
I love fresh starts. Big or small, they hold the power to thoroughly refresh me. Mondays, the first of each month, and even a normal everyday morning can give me a little thrill of let's try this again, shall we? (because one of these times, I'm bound to get it right). So if I can embrace even a hum-drum Monday for this reason, then I'm obviously not about to take the arrival of a whole new year lightly. It's important stuff—or it has the potential to be, anyway. Which means that the transition from one year to the next inevitably includes an exorbitant amount of personal reflection. Where had I fallen short of my expectations? Where had I far surpassed them? Was I heading in the right direction, or had I gotten dangerously off course? Was I happy? Sad? Content? Frustrated? Angry? Or longing for something yet unnamed?
Personally, I find contemplating the mystery that lies ahead to be an exciting thing, even though logically maybe I should be more afraid. I mean, life is proficient at handing out sour lemons while saying with a smile: Here, sweetie. Suck on this for a while. And then, just when you think you’ve sucked it dry and victory is within sight, another (sometimes larger) slice appears to take its place. Honestly, some days it feels like there’s only so much lemonade a person can make. But instead of fear, I feel more like I’m perched at the bow of a ship, bobbing in the waves and just about ready to set sail.
That vast expanse of water before me is the upcoming year, chock-full of wonder, uncertainty, and opportunity. Definitely some approaching change. Maybe even a taste of magic. If things are bad, perhaps this is the year when they’ll finally improve. And if things are already fabulous, what would life look like if it got even better? It’s a big, deep stretch of water though. The next twelve months could possibly hold a shark or two. Maybe the sting of a jellyfish. Perhaps even a deadly rogue wave. But just as possible is the awe of a humpback. The delight of a dolphin pod. Or if I’m lucky, something I’ve never before seen—maybe something that doesn’t even belong in my waters. A penguin? An albatross? The splash of a shimmering mermaid fin? The thing is, I don’t know. And instead of dread, I feel childlike hope about what the upcoming months, weeks, and days will bring.
My preferred method of ushering in the next twelve months is never anything spectacular, though. There will be no fireworks, no loud gatherings, no noisemakers. I lean more towards a quiet reset (says the hardcore introvert) so that I can enter the new year energized. Which is precisely how I planned on cheerfully bidding the chaos of 2020 goodbye: sleeping. In my warm bed and at a reasonable hour. Recharging, resting, and gathering strength for the inevitable challenges that 2021 would bring me. And I had fully anticipated that New Year's Day would be spent in much the same uneventful kind of way.
still december 31, 2020
I’m heading to the beach tomorrow. Wanna come?
I don’t remember exactly how I replied to my eldest, but I can almost guarantee it was preempted by a hearty—and perhaps somewhat derisive—laugh. It’s not that I didn’t enthusiastically approve of her New Year’s resolution to embark on "one outdoorsy adventure each week," but this particular one sounded a little bit like punishment. The beach? In January? I could easily think of a dozen things I'd rather do more than battle the wind, the sand, and the biting cold of the Rhode Island shoreline in the dead of winter. So… hell no. Have fun, ya weirdo, I said with a shake of my head. And then I promptly put the entire conversation out of my mind and settled in for a long winter's nap.
january 1, 2021
2021 dawned mild but gloomy, and I awoke with a sense of vague and undefined unrest. Where was my glorious brand-new-start feeling? Everything felt somehow... wrong. And depressing. Having no desire to wallow in it, I did something unexpected. And the first of many surprises that 2021 would offer me arrived promptly on January 1st when I found myself exactly where I didn’t think I wanted to be, but exactly where I needed to be: strolling along a largely empty stretch of chilly New England seashore with my three girls beside me. My derisive laugh from the night before still echoed, but I'd decided to honor the inexplicable unrest I’d felt that morning and make an effort to somehow break free from the tangled web of uncertainty that I was trapped in. Stoically ignoring my logical mind which was muttering on repeat: but it's COLD out there (the "you idiot" part was clearly implied), I bundled up in many layers, and then ventured out to discover what it was that the sea wanted to tell me.
The winter sky was cloaked in a thick layer of gray clouds, but the temperature was surprisingly comfortable. The most miraculous and delightful thing of all was the sheer absence of wind. We admired many birds and many sea-tumbled stones that day. We clambered along the jetty and sat out among the crashing waves. We left our marks in the sand and then watched as the ocean gently erased them. We grinned happily at all of our fellow beach-lovers with festive “happy new year” greetings. We had such a jolly good time, in fact, that I barely noticed my frozen toes.
a cozy, little nest
Trudging through the sand eventually took its inevitable wearying toll, but since none of us had yet gotten our fill of the sea, we fashioned ourselves a cozy little nest and settled in. Bundled under layers of blankets and huddled up together for warmth, our chatter eventually slowed as we settled into a comfortable silence.
Strangely powerful stuff rests in that silence—patient and waiting. Is it the repetitive crashing of the waves that awakens hidden thoughts from somewhere deep? Or is it something else, something not quite so easily named? Something more primitive. More instinctual. No matter the origin of the catalyst, it's in the silence that the intense therapy begins. Realizations might be made, new directions pondered, inner decisions cemented. It's a strange and inexplicable phenomenon, but one that works its magic on me every time. Not only is being by the sea a deeply grounding, restorative, and refreshing experience, but it's also therapeutic in a way I can't quite explain.
another awesome idea
My mind wandered as it does, stuck in its same old patterns—itching to break free, just not knowing how. But beneath the frustrating surface chatter, the ancient part in me conversed with the ancient part in the sea. It wasn't a conversation I was cognizant of until, prompted by forces unseen, I uttered the unthinkable. Maybe it was because I felt so much lighter and freer there. Maybe it was because I was desperate for change. Maybe it was merely a moment of lunacy, drunk on sea-spray and gull-screams.
What if we make this into a GROUP resolution? I asked breathlessly. My eyes likely shone with a hint of crazy that illuminates them whenever I find myself struck by an “awesome” idea. The probability that emphatic hand gesticulations accompanied this “brilliant idea” is high.
What if we commit to one outdoorsy adventure per week for the entire year? All of us—together?
did anyone hear?
It was moderately distressing to hear myself even uttering the words because I so strongly dislike resolutions. Don't get me wrong, I love, love, love the spirit in which they’re spoken; the determination and willingness to make positive change is deeply admirable. But cementing new habits is often daunting enough without the added weight and pressure of RESOLUTION stapled to it, blinking in obnoxious neon green.
So truthfully, I regretted my suggestion a little bit as soon as I'd uttered it. Had they heard? Perhaps the wind had kindly scattered my words. Because an entire year of commitments is the stuff my nightmares are made of. Besides, how likely was it that we could manage one per week, fifty-two times over? Inevitably, life was bound to interfere with these lofty plans. One Adventure a week was too tight. Too restricting. It didn’t allow enough space for the unexpected to happen, and if I can count on anything? It's that the unexpected will most definitely happen.
the adventure year
Instead of quickly retracting my words, however, I amended them to: by the end of the year, we need 52 Adventures under our belt in order to succeed. One a week or three a week, that part didn’t matter so much as making our goal did. It was still a daunting goal, but allowed us a little bit more freedom within it.
You guys in? I asked, eyes still feverishly aglow, the sea still casting her spell. Clearly as bewitched by the crashing of the waves as I was, all three of my girls voiced their agreement. Some with hesitation, others with enthusiasm. But in the end, we were all in.
And The Adventure Year was born.
Did we succeed? (Spoiler alert: we did!). The story continues in Part 2: The Happiness Squad
Before you go, check out our all-natural bar of The Adventure Year! Inspired by the sea, it's a deliciously creamy bar with a minty and refreshing scent ♥
Much love,
Melinda
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