notes on risk

On the way out to the upick the other evening, I was thinking about a photo I had just seen of a friend's son on his new dirt bike, getting ready to go on a ride with his dad, who also has a dirt bike. I know nothing of dirt bike riding, motorcycle riding, snow mobile riding (although a bit more here than dirt bike riding, having grown up in Wisconsin and all) and the like, but assume, depending on who you are and what your opinions are, that learning how to use any of these devices involves at least some amount of risk and varies from person to person, depending on skill level and desire. The first type of risk that comes to my mind when thinking about learning how to ride a dirt bike- or any bike, for that matter- is physical risk. The more I thought about it, however, the more I saw that there are other types of risk involved as well.

And this got me thinking about risk in general and how there is risk in anything that we choose to undertake, physical or otherwise. Anything worthwhile, it seems. (Or at least most things worthwhile. Risks abound.) I started thinking about these other types of risks- emotional risks, fear of failing, risks dealing with self-esteem and acceptance. Feeling overloaded. Unqualified. Fears of success- that we may have to continue if we succeed even if we don't enjoy something. And on and on. So many types of risk, so many fears. And the alternative to not taking risks? Living a life of dissatisfaction and mind-numbing sameness.

And yet, even as I thought this, I realized there is risk there as well. So many quotes clog our minds and hearts about not wasting our chances. Not squandering life. Not grabbing the bull by the horns. Not letting life pass us by lest we regret our choices and fall into a pit of despair over what could-have-been. Each prompt based on a fear (someone else's fear, I might add). Someone else's experence with risk.

We risk not only what we are comfortable with but what we have learned to be comfortable with, often basing our choices on what others have told us is acceptable to risk. Missed opportunities, otherwise known as enjoyment, often come from following the advice of well-meaning *others* intent on teaching us what their comfort level is with a particular risk, taking us outside of our own bodies, away from our own hearts to follow another road often leading to confusion and dissatisfaction.

Unfortunately, risk is often too narrowly defined in our culture. There are activities that are commonly held to be risky. Indivduals who are labeled as risk takers. Someone who doesn’t take enough risks, however, is seen as overly cautious. A stick-in-the-mud. What these labels fail to convey is that risk taking is not objective. What constitutes a risk is highly personal and varies among individuals.

So how do I know what risks I am willing to take? It takes two things- awareness and courage. Awareness of my own limits. Where I draw my line and where I reach out. And then? Then it is a matter of courage. Courage to pay attention to what I am aware of. And then to act on it. And because I was raised the way I was and am the person who I am, all of this can take time. Time to sort through all of the competing “other” voices to get to the heart of what exactly I am willing to do. What risks I am willing to take.

One of the reasons I have chosen to unschool my kids is to {hopefully} allow them to sidestep at least some of the process of weeding through external influences and how they shape who we are and what we are willing to do with our lives. It is my hope my kids will be able to develop in their own time a knowledge about themselves (who they are) and about what sorts of risks they are willing to take. With themselves. With their lives. And I realize there are risks in that. Risks that things won't turn out. Risks that things will go wrong. When I think about it, though, these risks are no bigger than if I were to make other decisions. The difference lies in the fact that these are risks I am willing to take. Risks I have chosen to take. And *that* makes all the difference.