I believe in spontaneity, even if you risk consequence. Go without a plan. Because any roadblock you encounter will cause you to stray from your plan, thus leading to discouragement. With a plan, living life is limited. So, just because I can, let me tell you a story about spontaneity.
About two years ago, I was dating this guy. I will call him Bob, because using his real name would not be of benefit to my healing. Anyway, Bob is a graffiti artist. So one spring night, I had gone to Bob’s house. I could not tell you how it was planned because 1.) It was not and 2.) I only remember the good parts. Anyway, next thing I knew, we were in Bob’s green ’86 Camaro, gorgeous car, and we were on our way to a bridge that oversees I-95. We parked at an apartment complex. Bob was scared, he was a worrier, even though he was the “why not” kind of guy. Apprehensively, we walked toward the bridge. Bob carried with him three spray paint cans, and I, a camera, and my Adidas flip-flops. I obviously did not know what I was getting into; otherwise sneakers would have been more appropriate.
Keeping an eye out for any passersby, we hurled illegally over a guardrail, and continued on down a dangerously steep hill. We ended up underneath the bridge where we had started, and about ¼ of a mile from the infamous interstate. Bob told me to keep a lookout, so I did. Rotating in 360-degree circles, eyes bugged out, I watched for any moving lights. I was so caught up in being cautious, I remember warning Bob of a light. “That is just a lightning bug,” he laughed. In all that seemed like a lifetime, Bob had tagged the concrete underneath the bridge; the artwork read, “Bob and Natalie.” Well, not Bob, but his graffiti name, which I will not mention, and in daylight, riders of I-95 would be able to spot the colorful, bold, illegal artwork.
During that experience, I felt something. I had felt a rush I had never felt before. Not like the rollercoaster rush, but a different one. The rush of knowing that I was doing something illegal, and getting away with it. I felt like I had lived. I felt like I would have a story to tell my children. To top it off, after Bob and I returned to where we had started, we hopped into the green beast, drove to the Sev, yes, 7-11, and feasted on some slurpees. Might I add, multiflavored slurpees, just because we wanted to, and just because we could? Now this, I believe, this is living.
That night, I went without a plan, and then I left with no regret. This, I believe, this is spontaneity. And I believe in being spontaneous, just because you can be.