As I’ve reconnected with friends over the past few months, I’ve noticed that the most joyful interactions are with the friends whose idea of fun brings them back to the same mental age as mine does.

I used to think a real friend was someone you talked to every week. Now I see a real friend as someone who’s there for you even if you haven't talked in a year. Deep connection can exist without frequent communication.

As I’ve reconnected with friends over the past few months, I’ve noticed that the most joyful interactions are with the friends whose idea of fun brings them back to the same mental age as mine does.

My idea of fun is racing Mario Kart, playing Ultimate Frisbee and ping-pong, reading Ender’s Game, a game of Anagrams or Clue, watching Batman Begins, and going to a water park or a trampoline park. That makes my “fun age” approximately nine.

If your idea of entertainment is drinking and dancing, your fun age clocks in around 19. If you’re more excited to knit a sweater and play Bingo, your fun age is about 93. If your dream day is driving in a red convertible and going on a date with someone half your age, your fun age is midlife crisis.

– Adam Grant

Prompt:

Figure out your “fun age,” meaning the common age of those who enjoy the same activities as you. Invite some friends to do the same, and then compare lists. You might discover some new ways to enjoy your time with old friends.

Emily-Rose Klema

Location: Raleigh, North Carolina
About: These prompts freed up space inside of me; gave me permission to make peace, unravel old patterns, outlive the past, and deserve the new. I have been changed by this 100-day process I committed to. Now I am ready for what lies ahead.
Age: 30

“How can we make this fun?”

This I ask Aramaea when he is bemoaning a certain task or event, and it always

shifts our dynamic from complaining and coercion, to understanding and resolution.

Sometimes, he doesn’t have an idea, and neither do I, BUT... we commit to figuring it out, or letting the day present an option for us.

Sometimes it’s big-sister-Soul (the true self) who says to me, “Emily Rose, how can

we make this fun?” Or, “How can we look at this differently and feel better?”

Lately, this has involved, “Get me to the woods as soon as possible. Stat! On the

double.”

Other aids have been: cup of espresso, brick steps on Dad’s front stoop, journal

and well-gripped pen in hand, eyes aloft for a solid in-breath of sky before the out

breath spreads words on the paper.

Running too. Pressing my body into the incline of a hill as I explore the aerody-

namics of my body and strength, outwitting the repetitive mental forces that would

like to engage me.

Affirming the truth. Stating what IS true in my life over what feels true. Our feelings

can help us navigate, but they are not a reliable compass. Sometimes they are in ca-

hoots with the past and would like to redirect us there. But this, I cannot do anymore.

Sometimes, here is what happens: I’m on my path when all of the sudden, there’s

a wall. Or a locked door. Or a chasm. Stretching beyond that, my path glimmers in the

promise of its undeniable form.

1

“Don’t take the first no that is offered you, Emily,” I told myself last night when

bam! A wall appeared.

I looked up at the foreign object before me and said, “Well... I didn’t ask for you

to be here, and you certainly are in my way, but... you’re not slightly off my path to the

right or to the left distracting me, you’re smack dab in the middle, and that means...

that there IS a way! And that you are meant to be overcome. Now... do I get over you?

Around you? Through you? Are there keys another traveler on his or her path is soon

to arrive to bestow upon me?”

This invokes the God conversation. A higher altitude is reached.

I ask questions.

Is this a period of pause, where I get to reassess what I have for the journey?

Is this a time to test the muscles and grip and grind through a climb?

Is this the time to allow the yet-to-be-imagined to arrive and deplane and get to

me? What action is the most appropriate action right now?

How can I make this period in my pathway fun?

I start encouraging myself. And through walking in the forest, or through the great

hills of the neighborhood, with blood flowing, limbs swinging, eyes looking, I get

more optimistic. There is a release. There is a recommittal to the path. The fun is here.

There is a trusting that stamps itself upon my parchment and seals it into the beak

of a dove or hawk who flies to whoever needs the message next.

My own growth aids the growth of others and vice versa.

This fact lends purpose and perspective to the question mark pause or obstacle in

my path.

I am before the causeway of a great miracle in my life today, my friends.

"God, wow me." I said last night.

2

In recent months I decided to take a risk. “Risk literature” was presenting itself to

me in abundance; through magazines, perfectly timed license plates, signs on the

road, strangers and friends sharing truth with me, and messages in autobiographies

and memoirs I read, the task ahead of me became clear: “Risk because it is worth it.”

I see now that through the risking, you’ll know what fits, where you’re being called,

and if you are to say no or yes.

I risked, I made my slow yes, I continued taking the steps, investing my time, mon-

ey, and energy into this decision, and as of yesterday, a huge step has been made.

Documents were committed to people beyond myself at present, and they will review

it.

They will be reviewing “two dimensional Emily Rose.” How she shows up on paper.

And I am trusting, believing, that she will show up in more dimensions than they are

used to seeing in their line of work.

I am trusting, that they they will see beyond the print.

I am waiting. Praying. Believing. And continuing to do all that I did to get to where

I am today because it works. I like where those results get me. I like the way they set

me into operation in the world with people and myself.

I am not in control of what happens next. But I am in control of my responses. This

is good news to me. I’m no puppet, but I am not alone or unaided. There are experts

in my corners, friends in the offing and nearby, and everything is happening on pur-

pose, for a purpose.

“How can I make this fun?” By committing to believe that it is all... Good.

Flynn

Location: Stuart, Florida
About: I’ll never grow up. It didn’t/doesn’t matter how old I am. I’ll find something to do that I think is fun.
Age: 58

🎵Happ-yyyy Birrrrth-dayyyy tooo yooou!

🎵Happ-yyyy Birrrrth-dayyyy deeeaarrr Fuhhhh-uhnnnn!

🎵Happ-yyyy Birrrrth-day tooo yoooooouuu!!!!

🎵How old are you nowwww....?

🎵How old are you........

.......?

Nah.

Fun knows not its age.

Fun is ageless. It doesn’t get old.

Sometimes it doesn’t show up on time.

Sometimes not at all.

Sometimes Fun shows up at thee. Worst. Most Inconvenient. Time.

Bummer?

If it was a bummer, we wouldn’t call it Fun. We’d say, “Bummer.”

Instead, at the very, very least, we cope with it.

Fun is usually quite easy to get along with. It’s one of the single-most agreeable things in life. You can say “no” to Fun and Fun won’t mind, but Fun will never say no to you. You are not beneath Fun. Fun is not beneath you. Fun is it your side. Fun is ahead of you.

You must trust that Fun isn’t behind you, no matter how hard that seems to do. Fun is always with you, it’s just that sometimes Fun takes a nap. All that much better for when it wakes back up...

Fun loves everyone, even if not everyone loves Fun.

Fun doesn’t care how old anyone is. Fun isn’t biased in any way at all.

People are another story.

It’s not Fun’s job to pull the plug on anything, especially not itself.

Fun is silly.

Fun is goofy.

Fun doesn’t worry.

Fun is happy.

Fun is fun.

But then, I’m rather easily amused.

98. My Idea of Fun – Adam Grant