6. Take time to stop and pet the wallaby

For the last couple of days I've been thinking about how 'I' am really just a collection of beliefs and behaviors that make up my idea of who and what 'Melinda' is. 'Tall', 'blonde', 'creative', 'nice person', 'helps friends', etc. Words like these define who I am but they also limit me, and this mission of mine is all about stretching those limits. What if I were someone who was known as 'brutally honest' instead of 'diplomatic'? What if I just let loose with my anger instead of watering it down? I remembered the feeling I had during an improv class I took from Alan Arkin a couple of years ago. After about the third class, I found myself really loosening up on the behaviors I allowed myself. I got raunchy, goofy, pushy, quiet, loud, depending on where the scene took me. In other words, I pushed myself out of my normal range of approved 'Melinda' behaviors and explored actions I hadn't allowed myself in years, if ever. I don't think it's any coincidence that I look on that weeklong class as magical, remembering that experience as being blissful and joyful in the way that children play. I saw the same look both in Alan's eyes and in the eyes of the other class members.

So, yesterday, I'm driving home past the elementary school in my neighborhood, and what do I see there on the front lawn but a baby kangaroo and other exotic animals surrounded by a group of school children.

"I want to go pet the kangaroo!" screamed my improv-ready inner child.

"You can't", my Limited Melinda explained calmly. "Grownups just don't waltz onto school grounds uninvited without setting off alarms, not in this day and age. People could think you're a stalker." and she showed a brief inner movie of an Angry Principal and an Embarrassed, Rejected, Melinda.

All of this happened in a nano-second, in barely the time it took me to drive another half-block. And I thought of 50 New Things. Isn't it as much about getting out of my usual habits of what I allowed myself to do as going skydiving? So what if they ask me to leave, isn't the point that I tried Something New? "I want to go pet the kangaroo!" I made a U-turn and headed back to the school, ready to color outside the lines for a change.

I parked and walked toward the group of school children who were gathered around several portable pens, trying to get a good look at the baby kangaroo in one of them. Suddenly, a little boy who looked to be about six years old came and gently took my hand.

"Want to feed him some grass?" I smiled at the innocent sweetness of his invitation, nodded and followed him over to a patch of clover. He very patiently explained to me that 'he eats this grass', pointing to the sweet clover, 'not that grass', pointing to the St. Augustine.

About this time I noticed a sturdy fellow in a Crocodile Dundee hat, with a Kiwi accent and a chameleon on his shoulder who joined us. "It's a wallaby, not a kangaroo." I had wondered why the kangaroo was so small--Honey, I shrunk the kangaroo. Oh, that's why, it was a wallaby. (I was amused to read the wiki entry on wallabys, the illustration was captioned, 'Red-necked' Wallaby'. Oh, native to Louisiana, that one?)

The wallaby, chameleon and the madagascar cockroaches in the nearby terrarium all were courtesy of Zoo-Zoom, "The Little Zoo on Wheels", a local exotic rescue and education organization. I watched as Mr. Chameleon playfully encouraged all the children to pet the animals, joyful as a child himself.

I didn't stay long, no Angry Principal materialized to shoo me off, in fact, no one even questioned my right to be there. I was glad I caught myself justifying an opportunity to pass on trying something new, because of imaginary fears, and even more glad that I acted on that impulse. As I drove away, I felt a tiny bit of the feeling I had during the improv class. Isn't this Who We Really Are? A playful, joyful, unlimited human who takes the time to stop and pet the wallaby?