Adventures in the Mundane
Why Not?!
In Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy, Bilbo Baggins warns his nephew Frodo, “It’s a dangerous business…going out your front door.” Bilbo already recognizes and appreciates that if you keep a “weather eye,” you are likely to find adventure, beauty, or revelation.
There’s a wonderfully handmade card resting atop and in the back of my dresser. In those moments when I remember its presence, it rewards me with the memory of a sweet friend who sent it to me when I was abruptly transplanted to Minnesota. She knew I was struggling with many emotions, trying to find purchase for my future and in her encouragement, she blessed me with the affirmation that she loves how I “find adventure in the mundane.”
Never wanting to disappoint a friend, I grabbed onto her compliment with zeal and sought for all adventure that is waiting in plain sight.
What could be more mundane than getting dressed? When I moved my limited belongings I made a game with myself: I had to wear every piece of clothing I own one time before I could wear anything a second time. If I pulled something out of the closet and thought it too tight-old-ordinary and didn’t want to wear it, I either had to force myself to don the garment or live my minimalist mantra to “kiss it-bless it-pass it on.” This game helped spark a boring routine and add a little flavor to the start of the morning.
I love finding extraordinary in what others might only see as ordinary. While at the Great Sand Dunes National Park in southern Colorado on a moonless night, I woke at 3 am. It was pitch black outside in the middle of the night, nothing to see. Maybe not? As I returned from the closest outhouse I glanced up and stopped short at the immensity of our Milky Way splattered across our night’s sky. I grabbed my camp pad, threw it on top of the picnic table and climbed aboard. I counted no less than a half dozen shooting stars and almost that many satellites float past. Nothing mundane about the inky blackness of that night.
As my mom recovered from her terrible hip-breaking fall this past six months, I’d fix some breakfast or lunch for her every day. I created the adventure of “dressing” her breakfast or evening trays. When I could, I’d find a fancy plate, place a single flower in a bud vase on her tray, cut the strawberries with flare, align toast in fashion and dollop her cocoa with a little whipped cream and a dusting of cinnamon or nutmeg. I’d giggle as I placed her plate in front of her and hear, “oh my!” (Gold star to me)
The other day I was driving past a county park and some bored ‘tweener’ kids were hanging out, probably waiting for their adults to finish business so they could get back to their business of play. They seemed excited to see me approach and I noticed one boy in particular pumping his right arm up and down like he was pulling on an invisible cord….hmmmm….ahhh! He wants me to honk my horn. My friend’s minivan was a poor excuse for an 18-wheeler, and it’s horn would hide in embarrassment next to their mighty blast, but this young boy wants to hear my horn. Granting his wish just might give him an extra notch up on the pecking order with his peers since he had the power to command my action, so why not?! I gleefully gave the double tap with the extended blast at the end. He jumped in triumph, twirled in joy, and waved his thanks. I openly laughed myself, reminiscing when not only had I requested that same favor in my youthful past, but also taught that game to my boys and celebrated with them as the truckers played along: absolute adventure in the mundane.
During my 20s, I commuted back and forth to Stamford, Connecticut from Long Island (“I love that commute” said NO ONE). I sometimes would wear a clown nose and see if anyone noticed. Not once, did anyone ever look at me negatively. When I was able to conjur a smile on their face through the fatigue of work and traffic, I felt like that kid the trucker rewarded with his mightly blast. I wonder if, after 35 years, any of those who smiled at my ridiculousness occasionally remember the clown admidst the insanity and think of how it brought a little adventure to the mundane.
When Volkswagen reintroduced the beetle, they added a vase inside for a silk flower and eyelashes for the headlights. Definitely adventure in the mundane. When I was a teenager, my dad bought an old VW van and let me drive it around. I LOVED it! The spare tire was strapped to the roof. It had a giant steering wheel and a “three on a tree” rather than “four on the floor” stick for it’s manual drive. She was my “Betsy-the-Bus.” Talk about adventure! —especially when dad removed the back seats so there was more room to haul garbage to the dump and he bungie-corded lawn chairs to the floor so my friends could use those as I happily drove us to the closest movie theater over 40 miles away! It’s amazing we’re still alive. When I would brake, the bungie-cords would strain and the passengers would rock back and forth with gravity until their mass settled to potential energy once more. Oh, how I dream of a restored ol’ VW camper van for future wanderings! I think I’d call her Wanda-the-Wanderer.
I travel a lot by car. A recent journey was over 6,000 miles in 14 days! Driving can get mundane so I try to spice it up. My vehicles are always named ever since Betsy-the-Bus when I bounced and bungied down Wisconsin country roads. I’ve had Nelly the minivan because on one particularly quick stop I spoke into the universe, “Whoa, Nelly” and the little 3-year old voice in the back seat (my oldest) inquired, “Who’s Nelly?” The trusty Chrysler minivan was immediately dubbed Nelly. Several cars later my latest vehicle is my Chevy Equinox (which I only purchased after I made sure I could lay down in the back so she could serve as a camper van). She’s Gladys. Sometimes she’s “Glad” to be on the road; sometimes I ask her to don her “Gladiator” outfit and enter into the battlefield during rush-hour traffic. Most often she brings “Glad” tidings to those we visit on our journey. Even when I fly somewhere such as my current adventure to finish visiting our national parks within the continental region, it’s not unusual for me to clock in 1000-2000 miles in a few days. Afterall, some of these parks are really spread out.
It’s easy to seek adventure in the mundane. Many play it. I have a friend who understands; she has happy faces TATOOED on the bottom of her feet!!
Every step of her life is a chance to giggle and explore. Walking could be one of the most mundane activities—just ask any soldier who’s ever had to walk a perimeter repeatedly. At least her feet have eternal smiles inked in place to remind her that life is filled with both challenges and joy.
In northwest Minnesota, a wood sculptured troll, “Barefoot Bertha,” rests at the edge of a pond in a small hollow. She is part of an overall adventure to visit the Detroit Lakes area of Minnesota and seek out the sculptures of Danish artist Thomas Dambo. As you discover Bertha’s location and need to add another clue to solve the story’s puzzle, you might notice that there is an alternative path to visit her. You could simply follow the path around the pond, or…for those who look for adventure in the mundane…you could choose the stepping stones across the pond. A sign is posted, inviting you to try those stones to elevate your experience. Bertha would like that. After all, you are already traipsing all over the local area in search of giant, wooden trolls and the elusive golden rabbit, so you might as well go “all in.” Of course I hopscotched across the pond on wobbly rocks with the added adventure of videotaping the event in progress just in case I needed to record an epic failure.
But, all’s well that ends well and my visit to barefoot Bertha was a success. I invite you to come visit the woods of Minnesota to experience the whole adventure yourself.
My challenge to you: Look around you, right now. Adventure is there. Maybe it’s that same dang noisy bird that sits outside your bedroom window. Try answering back and see what he says. Maybe it’s a face you can see in the swirls of the floor’s tile (I’m amazed at how many faces are hiding in all the waiting room floors and ceilings). Perhaps you see cracks and lines on the walls or ceiling tiles. Follow their trails and imagine where you could travel if you could traffic their lines.
If you’re outside, stop! Wait! Listen! When you are still long enough, nature will come alive! “Micro hiking” is when you sit in a spot and let your eyes and ears do the traveling. Last night as I was tempted to bemoan the distance from the rustic showers to my more rustic campsite, I looked around instead. Among the tall prairie grass, I was surrounded by fireflies twinkling hello and reminding me to always search for adventure in the mundane.
If you can’t find the adventure around you, look within. Remember. Feel. Dream.
God’s Blessings and Good Wanderings.