We were halfway through a five-city tour of Indonesia where I was speaking thirty-five times in nine days. I should have been dog tired. Sometimes on these manically busy stretches I rev up and can‘t settle down. We were headed to Java， and just as we were boarding the plane from Jakarta to Semarang， a rush of energy swept over me.
Five people were traveling with me， including my caregiver Vaughan， who is a big， strong， fun-loving guy. The female flight attendants were quite impressed with him as we boarded the plane， and we were teasing back and forth. They let us on first because I have to get out of my wheelchair and walk through the plane to my seat. As I headed down the aisle of the plane with Vaughan behind me， I suddenly had this urge to try something crazy that I’d thought about doing for a while.
“Vaughan， quick， before anyone else comes aboard—lift me up and see if I fit in the overhead baggage compartment！”
We‘d often joked about doing this. A few days earlier I’d had Vaughan place me inside the metal frame at the departure for seeing if your luggage will fit in the overhead compartment. I easily fit， so they started calling me “the Carry-on Kid.”
The overhead compartment was quite high， and I wasn‘t sure anyone could lift my seventy-four pounds up there， but Vaughan had no trouble. He hoisted me up and gently placed me on my side in the compartment as if I were a Vuitton instead of a Vujicic.
“Okay， now close the door，” I said， “and let’s wait for the other passengers to come on board.”
Vaughan tucked a pillow under my head and snapped the door shut， leaving me perched above the seats. The flight attendants saw what we were up to and cracked up with laughter. We were all snickering like schoolkids， so I wasn‘t sure we would pull off this prank. But the other passengers came up the ramp， unaware of the stowaway in the overhead.
My crew and the flight attendants could hardly contain themselves when an older gentleman came down the aisle and reached up to put his bag in my compartment. He opened the door—and nearly jumped through the roof of the airplane.
I popped my head out. “Sir， I don’t believe you even knocked！”
Luckily， he was a good-natured bloke， and we all had a nice belly laugh. Then while still perched in the overhead， I had to pose for a couple hundred pictures with him， other passengers， and the flight attendants. Of course Vaughan kept threatening to leave me up there， warning that “some items may shift in flight.”
UNRULY FOR THE ROAD
In the first ten chapters I‘ve offered you encouragement and guidance about finding your purpose， being hopeful， believing in yourself， maintaining a good attitude， acting with courage， practicing resilience， mastering change， forming empowering relationships， and acting upon opportunities that move you closer to your dreams.
Now I want you to get a little crazy. Just like me.
I’m being ridiculous， of course. In fact， ridiculous is exactly what I want you to be too. I am the creator of the Ridiculous Rules， which hold that every living， breathing person on the planet should be committed to doing something ridiculous at least once a day， whether it‘s risking looking ridiculous to pursue a dream or simply having ridiculous fun.
My Ridiculous Rules spring from one of my favorite quotes： “Imperfection is beauty， madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”
Now the alleged author of that intriguing quotation is not exactly one of my role models， but I think the late actress Marilyn Monroe was on to something when she uttered it. Naturally， I agree that imperfection is beauty， why wouldn‘t I？ You can’t argue either with the fact that madness is genius—in the sense that anyone who takes risks is bound to be considered a madman by some and a genius by others. And yes， I do think it‘s better to be absolutely ridiculous than to be absolutely boring.
You can master every other lesson in this book， but if you aren’t willing to take some risks or dare to be called crazy by those who doubt your genius， then you likely will never achieve all that you dream of achieving. And for your sake and the planet‘s， please dare to be playful too. Don’t forget to laugh at yourself and kick up your heels now and then so that you enjoy the journey.
I‘m as guilty as anyone of falling into an overscheduled， all-work-and-not-enough-play lifestyle. I was determined to become a successful evangelist and a motivational speaker. To hone my speaking skills， I hit the road， jumping on every speaking invitation I could line up. After eight dizzying years of nonstop touring and speaking， I’ve become more selective. I need more balance.
We easily become trapped in the “someday” mentality.
Someday I‘ll have all the money I need so I can enjoy life.
Someday I’ll be able to spend more time with my family.
Someday I‘ll have time to relax and do what I love doing.
With the Ridiculous Rules， I encourage you to embrace your freedom to romp on two fronts.
Number one is Ridiculous Risk： Be willing to blow past the doubters and the naysayers and make a leap to live your dreams. Some may say you are being ridiculous. Your response should be： Why， yes I am！ Doing what you love may seem ridiculous to people who don’t share your vision or your passion. You can‘t let their ridicule rid you of your dream. Instead， use it to ride it all the way to the top！
Number two is Ridiculous Fun： Take time to enjoy your life and your loved ones. Laugh， love， and have ridiculous fun so others can share the joy. If you think life is serious， imagine death！ In this blessed life be as serious as you need to be， but take the opportunity to be just as playful as you can be too.
RIDICULOUS RISK
Helen Keller， who lost both her sight and hearing in childhood but became a renowned activist and author， said that there is no such thing as a secure life. “It does not exist in nature . . . Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” Risk， then， is not just part of life. It is life. The place between your comfort zone and your dream is where life takes place. It’s the high-anxiety zone， but it‘s also where you discover who you are. Karl Wallenda， patriarch of the legendary high-wire-walking family， nailed it when he said： “Being on the tightrope is living； everything else is waiting.”
