when we've forgotten how to have fun

At some point in our lives, we’ve all had fun. All of us. For some of us, it may have been a fleeting second sometime in 2005, but we have all had something happen to us, with us, around us that brought a smile to our face and a lightness to our being.

It’s hard to have fun these days for a number of reasons. The obvious one, of course, is that there are people running things at the moment who seem to get off on causing misery.

There must be other reasons, however. There usually are. For me, personally, it’s waiting—I don’t deal well with uncertainty and so I’d like to know right away what I need to do to prepare for that vague something that’s ahead of all of us. It might be other reasons for you, personal reasons that only you know.

I’m not writing to recount why we’re all anxious and miserable, though. No, I’m writing to remind you (and perhaps myself) how to have fun.

I am thinking back to the most fun I’ve had and here are some common elements:

• Spontaneity

• Laughter and humor

• Good company, not always with familiar people

• Doing things for the sheer joy of doing them

• Feeding curiosity (otherwise known as “What happens when I push this button?”)

• Music

• Liquor and cursing a blue streak (sometimes, not gonna lie)

I used to be funny—perhaps this is just me humoring myself. I used to laugh far more often than I do now. Then again, satire used to be funny, too, instead of just frighteningly prescient.

I will laugh again. I look forward to more joy in my life, however short or long it may be.

I have glimpses of joy now and again. It’s still there. You must have seen it, too. How do we enjoy it?

I think the elements that worked before still work. Good company is always good company. Music is always music. They’re classic. The things that lift our spirits never go out of style. And though they may be hard to see, the things that bring us joy are always just under our noses.

We can do this. We haven’t forgotten how to have fun. It’s just that we might need a refresher. We can do this.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to practice my spontaneity and go streak the neighbors …

we are apollo 13

I woke up thinking about space flight.

It’s about 1 AM, and rather than sleeping, I am thinking about the Apollo 13 mission. Originally intended to fly to and land on the Moon, it never made it. It’s ancient history at this point—it happened in the last century. Why wake up thinking about it when it’s already over and done with and everyone made it back safely and got to be characters in a Ron Howard film?

Because, my friends, it’s a metaphor, and we are all on that rocket.

Can you imagine if Houston’s response to being told there’s a problem was to say, “Carry on, or we’ll never make it to the Moon”?

Leadership is not just about vision—it’s about responding to conditions as they occur. It’s about seeking feedback from the people who are living the experience of the decisions that are being made; ultimately, those are the people who can tell you whether or not the theoretical calculations and planning can be safely carried out in the real world. They are the ones who will live or die. It is irresponsible, reckless, and otherwise stupid not to seek out input from those on board and to adjust accordingly. Houston’s job is to assist, not to insist. Houston’s job is to listen.

There is a tendency these days, if listening does actually occur, to stick to the input of the engineers and theoreticians only rather than to listen to the astronauts flying the damned thing. God forbid, sometimes we only listen to the “gut” of some guy who insists he has expertise on all of it, despite never having flown or studied spacecraft. It’s easier. It’s autopilot. It’s nice and neat and everyone at Mission Control gets out in time to make it home for supper.

It’s also a recipe for disaster.

Houston, when we have a problem, we here on board need creativity, your ability to think critically, and an understanding of what tools are available to us—it is easier to be clearheaded when you’re not in immediate danger. What we don’t need is distance, detachment, and insistence on an unattainable goal at the cost of human lives.

I’d like for all of us to make it home in one piece.