Every morning feels the same for many people. Wake up, rush through traffic, answer emails, tick boxes on a to-do list, and collapse at night. Days blur into weeks, weeks into months, until you wonder if you’ve really lived—or just maintained.
I’ve been there too. I remember standing in front of my class as a young teacher, handing out poster-making assignments about “values.” The students would memorize words like honesty or discipline and turn them into colorful slogans. They were doing the work, but I felt uneasy. Deep inside, I knew something was missing. Life wasn’t meant to be reduced to neat posters on a wall. It was supposed to be lived—messy, unpredictable, and alive.
That moment was a whisper: This cannot be all there is.
Adventure Hides in Ordinary Decisions
I used to think adventure was about climbing mountains or traveling abroad. But adventure began showing up in ordinary places when I decided to say yes.
One time, I was invited to give a small training session for a group of professionals. It wasn’t glamorous. The room was small, the budget was almost nothing, and honestly, I thought I had better things to do. Still, something in me said, “Try it.” That “yes” turned into one of those sessions where people’s eyes lit up, where a roomful of strangers leaned forward as if they were discovering something new about themselves.
It wasn’t the venue. It wasn’t the money. It was the shift. That’s when I realized: adventure begins the moment you decide to lean into the unknown. You don’t need a passport to live adventurously. You only need a willing heart.
The Hunger We Carry for More
Think back to your childhood. Remember climbing trees, building forts, or sneaking off to explore streets your parents told you not to? That spark—the thrill of not knowing what comes next—has always been in us.
When I started writing The Filipino Way, I saw that same hunger in the stories of our people. During the Mt. Pinatubo disaster, families who had lost everything found ways to share food, water, and kindness. They didn’t just survive; they discovered new ways to live together. Out of suffering came courage, creativity, and connection. That, too, was adventure—an adventure of the heart.
We all long for that “more”—a life that isn’t predictable, but meaningful. And yet, somewhere between growing up and growing older, we learn to bury that hunger. We trade wonder for comfort, and the world quietly becomes smaller.
Comfort Is the Enemy of Adventure
The greatest danger is not failure—it’s comfort.
I’ve seen this in organizations I’ve worked with. They start with big dreams: “We’ll transform culture. We’ll serve our clients better than anyone.” The first weeks are full of fire, people brimming with enthusiasm. But after a few months, the excitement fades. Meetings return to the same dull routines. Projects stall. Leaders get tired of pushing.
That’s ningas cogon—flame that burns bright at first but dies too soon. And when it happens, everyone loses the adventure. They choose safety. They choose what’s easy. But choosing easy is never free. It costs us possibility.
I’ve made that mistake too. There were times when I held back from launching an idea because I wanted the “perfect” moment. I told myself I was being wise. In truth, I was just afraid. Comfort disguised itself as caution, and adventure slipped past me.
The comfort trap is real. It whispers: Play safe. Don’t risk. Wait for tomorrow. But every time we listen, the world we live in grows smaller.
Choosing Risk, Curiosity, and Courage
Adventure is not something that lands in your lap. It is chosen. Every day.
For me, adventure looked like saying yes to running free workshops at Aralin. There was no certainty that people would come, or that they would care. But every session became an experiment. Sometimes the room was packed, sometimes only a handful showed up. Each time, I learned something new about people, about teaching, about myself.
That’s the heart of it:
Adventure = Risk + Curiosity + Courage.
Risk means you might fail. Curiosity means you are willing to learn. Courage means you show up anyway.
When you put those together, life stops being predictable and starts becoming alive. The people you meet, the lessons you gather, the stories you get to tell—they only happen when you choose adventure.
Every Adventure Multiplies You
Not every adventure leads to success. Some will leave you with scars. Others will leave you humbled. But each one multiplies you.
When I look back, the adventures that scared me most were the ones that shaped me. My first public training that bombed taught me to prepare better. My first book that didn’t sell much taught me to listen more closely to what people really need. My first client who trusted me with a big leadership program showed me that saying yes can change the trajectory of a career.
Each fold, each risk, each attempt added something. That’s why I call it The Thousandfold Way. Adventure is one of the thousand folds. Every time you choose it, you become a richer, wiser, more courageous version of yourself.
The Gift of an Adventurous Life
In the end, adventure isn’t just for you.
When you live adventurously, you give others permission to do the same. I’ve seen it in leaders who dared to experiment instead of sticking to safe policies. I’ve seen it in young people who stepped up to speak when they could have stayed silent. Their courage created ripples that others carried forward.
Life is an adventure not because it’s full of grand trips or dramatic twists, but because every day is an invitation. An invitation to risk, to wonder, to choose courage.
So here’s my invitation to you: make today an adventure. Not someday, not when the timing is perfect—today. Try the new thing. Speak the honest word. Step into the unknown.
Because one day, you’ll look back, and the best parts of your story will not be the safe ones. They’ll be the adventures you dared to take.
