The Joyful Art of Missing Out

JOMO > FOMO

When life is a lot, like it is right now, I seek out open spaces. I need them like I need oxygen, and my sanity depends on occasional, heroic doses of wilderness.

Recently, that took the form of a 72-mile kayak trip on Lake Chelan. (For the adventure-curious, I’ve included a few trip details and pics at the bottom of this post.)

Lake Chelan, looking north toward Stehekin, WA

Adventures like this aren’t just about the wilderness “out there” though. They’re inner expeditions, too. In the vast quiet, what is essential to my life and what isn’t becomes obvious.

Stillness brings clarity, which is the first step toward freedom, especially from fear.

Fear of being myself. Fear of being fully seen. Fear of missing out. Fear of my life not mattering. There’s plenty of time to think about those things when you’re in the middle of Nowhere.

While paddling one day, I remembered a conversation I had with a friend many years ago. I asked him what he most wanted in life. His answer: to do something so incredible his legacy would be remembered hundreds of years from now.

I asked him, “What is your great-great-grandfather’s first name?”

He thought for a minute and then replied, “Hmm. I don’t know.”

I didn’t know mine either, I admitted. Yet, I was sure neither of our great-great-grandfathers imagined their own family would forget them so quickly. As with them, so it will be with us, we decided.

That conversation played in my mind the whole time I was on the lake, and it has ever since because it reveals a fear that my life ultimately won’t matter.

So much of my ambition in life has been fueled by fear, especially the fear of missing out. I want to be somebody, do something special, and be special. We all do. We fear getting left behind and losing out when it seems like everyone has it figured out, but us. That feeling is compounded by the fact we live in a time of great pretenders willing to do and be whatever the algorithm rewards.

Our entire culture is built on fear, especially FOMO, Fear of Missing Out. All marketing is based on it, so too are politics and most religions. We take the shiny bait because it’s human nature to do so. We’re all hardwired to seek safety, belonging, and meaning, and we often betray ourselves in the process. Fear will make you chase and do many things.

However, a life motivated by FOMO—especially fear of missing out on the life others think we should live—is one destined for disappointment.

It’s easy to trade the essential for the trivial, authenticity for acceptance. It feels safer to seek identity outside of ourselves than it does to risk living honestly, because the risk of being yourself is that “they” (whoever they are) won’t approve. The truth is, they never will, and that is a reason for joy.

While drinking a mediocre cup of instant coffee on our last morning, I realized how simple life had been during the week. My only decisions were what I would eat next, whether to wear sunscreen, and which shirt to wear.

I didn’t miss life’s complexities, the constant presence of my To Do List or the deep grooves of routine I’ve worn in my life. I didn’t miss the internet, the news cycle, Netflix, or any of the other things that relentlessly pull at my attention. In fact, I realized I was experiencing a sense of joy from missing out on all those things.

Any FOMO I had gave way to JOMO: Joy of Missing Out. My life felt like my mine again and I knew clearly—a knowing in the center of my chest more than my head—how I needed to own myself in new ways after returning to the roar of Everyday Life.

I’ve been home a few weeks now, and am integrating the lessons from the lake. I’ve taken the bait of fear a few times, to be honest, but those are opportunities for learning, too. I’m more at ease in my life, responding more instead of reacting, and asking questions meant to shift my perspective:

• What is essential to my life?

• What adds to my sense of aliveness? What drains it?

• When do I feel most naturally myself?

• Who am I really when I’m not striving to be who I think I should be?

• Do I accept myself as I am, right now?

• What would it look like to fully inhabit my life?

Choose JOMO for just a day. Shrug into it like a coat and see if it fits. Leave fear behind, again just for today, and see what you find.

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Lake Chelan Trip Details // Chelan, WA > Stehekin, WA

• Start/Finish Point: Twenty-Five Mile Creek Campground

• Turnaround Point: Weaver Point Campground, Stehekin, WA

• Total Mileage: Approx. 72 miles (Avg. 12 mi/day)

Lake Chelan is a stunning place. It is the third deepest lake in the U.S., behind Crater Lake (the deepest) and Lake Tahoe (#2). At the far end of the lake is Stehekin (Population: 75), the most remote town in Washington, accessible only by sea plane, ferry, or kayak. Stehekin was our halfway/turnaround point. It took us three days to get there and three days to return.

The terrain along the lake is extremely rugged. The mountains drop straight down to the water in most places, making camping impossible except in a few established sites along the way.

Daily Details:

• Day 1: Twenty-Five Mile Creek to Graham Harbor

• Day 2: Graham Harbor to Lucerne

• Day 3: Lucerne to Stehekin (Weaver Point)

• Day 4: Stehekin to Lucerne

• Day 5: Lucerne to Graham Harbor

• Day 6: We planned for Graham Harbor to Deer Point, but decided at the last minute to make a final push (3.6 mi) due to weather and finish a day early. We ended at Twenty-Five Mile Creek and celebrated by pounding cheeseburgers we’d been dreaming about for days.

The Crew at Twenty-Five Mile Creek State Park • Launch & Return Point

Lake Chelan and wildfire smoke from Blewett Pass

My trusty vessel, a 14’ Necky Zoar Sport

Graham Harbor Boat-in Campsite

Domke Falls

The dock and ranger station at Lucerne

Native pictoglyphs

Weaver Point Campground • Stehekin, WA

The end of the road, or at least the end of the lake.