Life Without Limits (27 page)

We easily become trapped in the “someday” mentality.

Someday I’ll have all the money I need so I can enjoy life
.

Someday I’ll be able to spend more time with my family
.

Someday I’ll have time to relax and do what I love doing
.

With the Ridiculous Rules, I encourage you to embrace your freedom to romp on two fronts.

Number one is Ridiculous Risk: Be willing to blow past the doubters and the naysayers and make a leap to live your dreams. Some may say you are being ridiculous. Your response should be:
Why, yes I am!
Doing what you love may seem ridiculous to people
who don’t share your vision or your passion. You can’t let their ridicule rid you of your dream. Instead, use it to ride it all the way to the top!

Number two is Ridiculous Fun: Take time to enjoy your life and your loved ones. Laugh, love, and have ridiculous fun so others can share the joy. If you think life is serious, imagine death! In this blessed life be as serious as you need to be, but take the opportunity to be just as playful as you can be too.

Helen Keller, who lost both her sight and hearing in childhood but became a renowned activist and author, said that there is no such thing as a secure life. “It does not exist in nature … Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” Risk, then, is not just part of life. It
is
life. The place between your comfort zone and your dream is where life takes place. It’s the high-anxiety zone, but it’s also where you discover who you are. Karl Wallenda, patriarch of the legendary high-wire-walking family, nailed it when he said: “Being on the tightrope is living; everything else is waiting.”

Every sky diver, paraglider, and baby Kookaburra bird knows that the first walk to the edge is scary, but they have to go there if they want to fly. Face it—every day could be your last, so it’s a roll of the dice just to get out of bed. You can’t be a winner unless you’re willing to face defeat. You can’t even stand without risking a fall.

My day-to-day life has been a dicey business since birth. There were doubts as to whether I’d ever be able to support or care for myself. My parents had double trouble because their limbless child was also a thrill seeker. I was forever putting myself in danger because I couldn’t bear to just sit around and be the kid in the corner. I skateboarded. I played soccer. I swam. I surfed. I threw my poor body around like an unguided missile. It was ridiculous!

In the fall of 2009 I tried something that I’d once been told was way too dangerous for me: I went scuba diving in the ocean. As you probably can guess, I had a blast. It was like flying but with softer landings. I’d tried to scuba about three years earlier, but the instructor would only let me paddle around the pool in scuba gear. I think he was more worried about his insurance than my safety. He was afraid he’d have to explain why that strange guy named Nick was carried off by a shark looking for a bite-size bloke.

This time my instructor, Felipe, had a more open mind. He is the dive instructor on a little island off Colombia, South America. I’d been invited to speak there by the owners of the gorgeous Punta Faro Resort on tiny Mucura Island, a national park, just off Cartagena. Felipe’s only question to me when I showed up for a scuba lesson was “Can you swim?”

Once I proved seaworthy, Felipe gave me a quick resort scuba course. We worked out some sign language so I could communicate with him under water: by moving my shoulders or my head, I could let him know I needed help. Then he took me out for a test run just off the beach, where we practiced a bit, tried our underwater signals, and checked the equipment.

“Okay, I think you’re ready for the reef,” he said.

Felipe gripped me around the waist and, using his flippers, swam with me down to the reef surrounded by a dazzling rainbow of marine life. Then he let me go, floating above me while I explored the reef. He had to rescue me only once when a five-foot-long moray eel popped out of a crevice in the coral. I’d read that these carnivorous eels have nasty teeth covered with bacteria, so I signaled Felipe to tow me to a friendlier section of the reef. I didn’t want to become Nick sushi.

The experience opened my eyes to a whole new world. You may
wonder whether it was worth the ridiculous risk. Undoubtedly, yes! Stepping out of your place of comfort opens the possibility for stretching and growing. Surely there is some daring move you’ve wanted to dive into? I encourage you to do it, test the waters, and take your life to a new level, even if it is under water. Swim with the dolphins. Soar with the eagles. Climb a mountain. Spelunk a cave! Be
ridic
like Nick!

Now, there is a difference between ridiculous risk and just plain stupid risk. Stupid risks are just that, too crazy to contemplate. You should never take a risk in which you could lose more than you could win. Ridiculous risk, however, is taking a chance that looks or sounds crazier than it really is because:

1. You’ve prepared yourself.
   
2. You have reduced the risk as much as possible.
   
3. You have a backup plan if things go wrong.
   

I learned about risk mitigation while studying financial planning and economics in university. In the business world as in life, it is generally conceded that you can’t avoid risk entirely, but you can manage or minimize it by measuring the depth of the muck before you wade in—no matter what sort of muck you are wading into.

There are two types of risk in life: the danger of trying and the danger of not trying. That is to say, there is always risk, no matter how you may try to avoid it or protect yourself. Let’s say you are interested in dating someone. It’s a gamble just to call and ask the person out. You might be turned down. But what if you don’t try? After all, this wonderful person might say yes. You might hit it off and live happily ever after. Remember that you have virtually no
chance of living “happily ever after” unless you put yourself out there. Isn’t that worth a tumble, mate?

You will lose now and then. You will fail. But the glory lies in getting back up again and again until you succeed!

To live, you must be willing to reach and stretch. To live well, you must learn to control the odds by knowing the upside and downside before you make a move. You can’t control everything that happens to you or around you, so focus on what you can control, assess every possibility you can assess, and then make a decision.

Sometimes your heart and your gut will tell you to take a chance even when the odds of success look bad on paper. You may fail. You may win. But I doubt that you will ever look back with regret that you tried. I consider myself a business entrepreneur as well as a public speaker and evangelist. I’ve had several business and real estate ventures over the years. I’ve read many books about entrepreneurs, and there is always a section on risk. Despite the image of entrepreneurs as “risk takers,” successful entrepreneurs aren’t really good at taking risks; they are good at controlling and minimizing risks and then moving forward, even when they know some risk remains.

To help you deal with the risks you’ll face in your life, I’ve put together Nick’s Ridiculous Rules for Managing Risk. Read them at your own … well, you know.

An ancient African proverb says no one tests the depth of the river with both feet. If you are considering a new relationship, a move to another city, a new job, or even a new color for the living room, do
a little test before making a big move. Don’t rush in without a good sense of what you are getting into.

This doesn’t mean you should never try new experiences or new people; it simply means that you can lower the odds by doing your homework. Once you think you have a handle on the upside, downside, and every aspect of an opportunity, you should have the confidence to make a move. Even if you don’t know it all, you should know what you don’t know—and sometimes that’s good enough.

Often you can greatly improve the odds by waiting for the right time to make your move. You wouldn’t want to start a new ice-cream business in the dead of winter, would you? My first offer to enter the movie business just wasn’t for me, but a few months later the role was perfect and the timing was right. Sometimes patience can pay off. Don’t be afraid to sleep on it. Write it down before you go to bed, and then read it again in the morning. It’s amazing how different it can appear when you let it sit overnight. I have done this many times. Always consider your timing and whether there might be a better time before you make a move on the steep edge of opportunity.

Sometimes we take bigger chances than we should because we’re so convinced that we absolutely must do a certain thing right now. If you find yourself rushing into tricky territory, take a couple steps back, call a friend or mentor you trust, and ask for help in assessing the situation, because your emotions may be outrunning your good
sense. I go to my uncle Batta here and to my father in Australia. There is wisdom in a council of many. If the stakes are high, you don’t have to be the Lone Ranger.

There are always, I repeat
always
, unseen consequences for our actions, especially those that push the envelope. You can never foresee all the repercussions, so you should do your best to consider every angle and then prepare yourself for the unexpected. When I do a business plan, I overestimate costs and underestimate my profit to create a buffer, just in case the business doesn’t progress as well as I hope it will. If all goes well, it never hurts to have the extra money.

Don’t even pretend that you haven’t stood waiting for your baggage in an airport and contemplated leaping onto the carousel to ride wherever it takes you in Luggage Land. Of course, being ridiculous, I did it.

We were in Africa on a speaking tour. When we arrived at the airport, I grew bored waiting for our luggage, so I told my caregiver Kyle that I wanted to go on a carousel ride.

He looked at me like
Dude, have you gone mad as a cut snake?

But Kyle came through. He hoisted me up and plopped me down next to a nice big Samsonite. Off I went with the rest of the bags and cases. I rode the wild carousel through the terminal, making like a statue, wearing my sunglasses, and drawing shocked stares, pointed fingers, and nervous laughter from the other travelers, who weren’t sure if I was (a) a real person, or (b) the world’s most handsome duffle.

Finally I rode the carousel up to the little door leading into the
backroom loading area, where I was greeted by the African bag men laughing and smiling at the crazy Aussie on a joy ride.

“God bless you!” they said, cheering me on.

The baggage workers understood that sometimes even grown-ups have to hitch a ride on the carousel. Youth isn’t wasted on children. They enjoy every minute of it. You and I should do whatever we can to keep that youthful joy alive. If your life is too predictable, don’t go postal. Take a ridiculous ride back to whatever it was that gave you joy as a child. Jump on a trampoline. Saddle up a pony. Give adulthood a rest.

I encourage you to use up every second. Every now and then I cut loose and do something just for fun. I encourage you to live the same way, in vigorous pursuit of all the wonders that God has given us on this earth.

To live ridiculously is to live at the convergence of hope and possibility, embracing God’s purpose and His plan. The second part of the Ridiculous Rules, then, is all about having ridiculous fun, defying expectations, and exceeding limitations. It’s about enjoying the ride, embracing the blessings, and always pushing not just to live but to enjoy your life to the fullest.

In my speeches, I often stand poised right at the edge of my speaking platform, teetering as if I’m about to take a tumble. I tell my audiences that living on the edge isn’t such a bad way to go when you have faith in yourself and in your Creator. That’s not just talk. I push myself in every aspect of my life, both work and play. The most ridiculously good feeling comes over me when work and play become one. I encourage you to go for that feeling too.

When I accepted my first acting role in
The Butterfly Circus
, I did not anticipate that I would do my own stunt work. But then, who
better to do my stunts than me? It’s not like there are a lot of professional stuntmen with no arms and no legs looking for work.

I was game. If my fellow Aussie Russell Crowe can do his own movie dives, why shouldn’t I? Then again, Russell has never been tossed around like a beach ball by George the Strong Man. The real stuntman and actor Matt Allmen played that burly character in
The Butterfly Circus
. In one key scene in the film, Matt, playing George, picks me up and throws me into a small pond. Matt was very nervous about that scene. I should have been more nervous myself.

We filmed it in a natural pool in a real creek in the San Gabriel Mountains in California’s High Desert. The water was cold, but that wasn’t the worst of it. In the scene we filmed, I accidentally fall into the creek’s pool and everyone fears that I’ve drowned, but I of course pop up, showing off my swimming ability.

George the Strong Man gets so excited that I’m alive that he picks me up and throws me, nearly drowning me himself.

Matt was afraid he’d hurt me by throwing me too far or too hard. He was a little timid in the first few takes because the water was only about five feet deep. The director, Joshua Weigel, encouraged him to give me a stronger toss, and I came flying out of Matt’s arms like a torpedo! Afraid I would smack into the rock bottom, I arched my back, which saved me. This time there was no acting involved when I popped back up out of the water. Everyone on the set was truly joyful when I came up for air, especially Matt.

Even riskier, though, were my high-diving scenes, in which I had to be hoisted about three stories in a harness in front of a “green screen.” Hanging over the set by a few straps made for some scary moments. Of course, the risks of my film work were mitigated by professional stunt coordinators on the set. They took care of the safety nets and rigging so even the scariest parts were fun.