What I Learned from Bullfighting
Bullfighting was not on my “To-Do List.” It wasn’t even on my “Bucket List.” But somehow, I found myself at a rodeo being convinced to step in the ring.
The person who was trying to convince me may or may not have been drunk.
He had volunteered himself twice already. And both times, escaped unscathed.
I weighed my options for a split-second:
“To taunt a wild animal that could hurt/kill me or to not taunt a wild animal that could hurt/kill me? That…is…the question.”
And like the Magic 8 Ball, the words of a wise philosopher, came to my rescue.
You big dummy.”
— Red Foxx as Fred Sanford
To be truthful, I was not going to do it.
I wasn’t even almost going to do it.
Why not? (Besides loving my life and limbs?)
Although I’ve done a lifetime-worth of insane things, and it could’ve been a thrill, or a once in a lifetime thing — a story to tell — it just wasn’t my fight.
Never in my life have I had the inclination to fight or taunt a bull. And when I arrived to the rodeo, I still didn’t have any inclinations or a change of heart otherwise.
I know what’s for me and what’s not for me. You have to care for yourself enough to find this out. Then you have to care for yourself enough to apply it. Sometimes the line is blurry. But usually, it isn’t.
In this case, for me, it wasn’t.
I’m grown, and you can’t make me. Simple as that.
Don’t let others drag you into battles that aren’t yours. Know your goals. Know your fights. And face those.
All else is a bull.
(Sorry, couldn’t resist :))
Also, I don’t mess with the wild animals. No, no.
Originally published at brandonbkeith.com on August 19, 2015.