Lesson 10
Enjoy the Ride… Live with Joy"Existing is passive. Living takes courage."
Gregory Keough
To live is not the same as to exist. Most people don't understand the difference. Until it's too late.
But if you're reading this, you still have time. So hear me now: LIVE.
Not one day. Not when it's convenient. Not when it's safe. Live now.
This whole journey is a single lap around the track.
You don't get a warm-up. You don't get another shot. So why waste it coasting?
Your life is unique. You were made for something only you can do.
Your attitude toward life is under your full control. You are not a victim.
One secret? Live in the present. That's why kids are so happy. They experience life fully, moment by moment.
Joy comes from presence, not possessions.
Keep joy in your life. Some of the greatest joys are free and fleeting. And they're everywhere.
For me, it's the little things: Time on the farm with the kids. Watching them wrangle cattle. Building fences. Laughing after dinner.
You don't need a selfie or a vacation to have joy. You just need to decide to be joyful.
Gratitude is the gateway to happiness. It costs nothing. And there's always something to be grateful for.
Don't take yourself so seriously. If you don't laugh, you'll cry. So laugh often.
Limit your exposure to negativity. Especially online. Most of it is poison.
Be picky with your attention. Choose joy, truth, and beauty over endless noise.
Bad things will happen. But they don't define you.
You are stronger than your worst day. And you don't have to carry that weight forever.
Go to confession. Ask God for help. God can forgive anything if you ask.
Let it go. Forgive. Don't hold grudges. You're only hurting yourself.
Dance. Laugh. Sing. Be spontaneous. You don't need permission.
Never disengage. Keep learning. Stay amazed by the world.
Spend time in other cultures. Learn something from everyone.
Music is joy. It helps you survive the lows and celebrate the highs.
Finally: live in the real world, not the digital one. Technology is a tool, not your life.
Don't scroll through life. Live it.
Go out and find joy.
Whether you're on a mountaintop or at rock bottom, the next ride starts now.
• • •
“Somedays you just get by… and somedays you're livin'”
THE JUNGLE AND THE JOY
• • •
The kids came sprinting out of the jungle, shouting and dancing:
"Moon Joo! Moon Joo!"
I turned to my guide. "What are they saying?"
He laughed. "They're saying... 'You're white.'"
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Somewhere in the jungle, there was a tribe that still lived like it was a thousand years ago. No phones. No wires. No plastic. Just firelight and stories passed through generations.
I had to see it. Before it disappeared.
So I started asking around. Took a bush bus from the Bangui market, packed full, people on top of people, chickens squawking. At a river crossing, I met a kid who spoke French. Said he was from a village deep in the forest and could take me there.
We walked for miles, no trail, just his memory and the shape of the sun. Finally, we reached a village by the river. Maybe eighty huts.
And that's when the kids came running.
I found the chief, followed the local protocols, and asked permission to stay. For a small donation, I lived in a hut with a local family. Ate with them, bathed in the river, drank palm wine.
Word was sent to the pygmy tribe, if they'd accept a visit, I'd bring offerings: salt, a pot, some basic goods. Fair trade.
After a few days, word came back. They'd see me. We packed up and hiked for days. Thick jungle. Mosquitos like helicopters.
Finally, we reached their settlement: four huts, maybe twenty people.
They really are small. But strong. Fast. Wary. Curious.
I sat with them, watched them hunt, learned how they moved through the jungle like it was stitched into their skin.
I'd thought I was going to observe something primitive. But instead, I witnessed mastery.
They didn't have much. But they had joy. Real joy.
They laughed with their whole bodies. They danced like the stars were watching. No phones. No plans. No anxiety about what came next.
Just here. Just now. Just alive.
They had less than anyone I knew, and more presence than most people I'd met in the modern world.
After a few days, I knew I wasn't meant to stay. I'd seen what I came to see, and it changed me.
They escorted me back to the village by the river, and on the last night, they threw a party.
We drank too much palm wine. We danced around the fire until our legs gave out. We laughed until sunrise.
And I'll tell you what I tell my kids:
You haven't danced until you've danced with the pygmies.
Go find your jungle.