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  • Writer's pictureJenny Wynter

Create the experiences you long for

I’ve always thought “live every day as if it were your last” is pretty silly advice.

I mean, sure, the sentiment is sound, but if I literally did that and maxed out my credit card flying all my loved ones to Disneyland so we could all go on the Indiana Jones ride while singing “we are the champions” with a full mouth of chocolate fudge cake…

I mean, sure, I could do that for ONE day. Three, tops.

Okay fine. Six.

But every day?

Money aside, I just don’t have the thyroid for it.

However, I don’t think it’s unwise to appreciate that life is finite. This day could be your last. You just don’t know.

I have always been acutely aware - more aware than I would like to be in fact, given my mother’s very early and completely unexpected death at 33 - that life can indeed, end at any moment.

It’s why I dived headfirst into performing.

Why, I figured, when you get one life (or even if you believe in reincarnation, you nonetheless get one go at THIS life), would you waste it following a path you at best, don’t love, or at worst, hate?

This, combined with my genuine enthusiasm (some might even say over-the-top enthusiasm) for experiencing all the things, means that I wholeheartedly believe that you must make the most of this life while you have it.

Which brings me to…

Dun dun dun!


Or as we came to call it: “Eat, Spray, Love.” #balibelly #sorrynotsorry

9 women. One mansion. The only thing getting in their way? Stomach troubles.

I read a saying somewhere (I wish I could remember so I could attribute it!):

“Create the experiences you long for.”

And my heavens we did.

We swam, we ate (and ate and ate), we snorkelled, we partook in a ceremonial temple celebration, we swung (on swings: BEHAVE), we whitewater rafted, we got spoiled damn rotten.

And… we broke down (30-40 times on the ride from the airport alone, with, I kid you not, “Endless Love” playing on repeat the entire time), we got confused, we got lost, and of course we got sick, we got sick, we got sick…

And… we laughed and laughed and laughed. To be honest it was getting tedious. Nothing worse than too much joy, am I right?! I attribute at least a third of our combined stomach pain to mirth alone. (I took REAMS of notes which may or may not make it into a show one day. I’m pretty sure that makes the entire trip tax deductible. Right?)

I had a moment, while staring out at the insanely stunning surrounds in our infinity pool, soaking in this magical and grossly over-privileged experience of spending a week having a travel-infused slumber party in a Balinese mansion, when I thought “gosh, imagine living here in this house!”

I really went there. Mmmmmm. Imagine.

And almost as soon as I thought it, I recoiled.

Gosh no.

I never ever want to feel blasé about this level of magic. I never want to take this kind of privilege for granted. I never want this to be my “default setting” or worse still, my “bare minimum.”

I want to feel awe. I want to feel gratitude. I want to feel magic.

Even if it involves mass nausea.

So yeah… EVERY day as if it’s your last?

Probs not practical. (Unless, you know, your ideal last day involves bingeing The Simpsons. There’s like fifteen million episodes now, so that could actually get you through for a while.)

But every now and then, living life as if it’s your last day, week or month?


It doesn’t have to be as ridiculous as a girls week in Bali.

It could be signing up for an 80s dance class. (I’m absolutely projecting my own ideals here and I regret nothing.)

It could be googling“fun things to do in…” your own town and being a tourist for a day.

It could be apologising to somebody (I’m absolutely never doing this but you know, it’s an option. Sorry.)

It could be shooting a message to a friend you’ve lost touch with.

It could be finally reading that book you never finished.

It could be finally writing that book you never finished.

It could be trying stand up comedy (again, I’m clearly projecting.)

It could be writing a letter saying all the things you want to say, that you may or may not ever send.

Life IS short.

And while perhaps living EVERY day as if it were your last is as sustainable as the K-Mart cushion it’s written on, there is certainly much to be said for living SOME days, as if they are your last.

Even if - as was the case in Bali - those special experiences feature bathroom moments where you’re convinced that indeed, life might just end here.

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