When Saying Hell Yeah Led to Head Banging and a Ride with Elvis

How saying Hell Yeah leads me to experience more aliveness in my life

For a few years now, I’ve been selecting three words to guide me during each new year. These are words I think a lot about, and select carefully because they will serve as reminders throughout the year for me for how I want to be. For how I want to show up in my life and its various parts.

The three words idea is not my idea. My friend, Chris Brogan gets the credit. Every year I would read about his three words, and I was inspired, so I started doing it for myself some years ago.

For 2021, my words will be One, Write, and Hell Yeah.

ONE is a repeat. I am choosing ONE because I want to get better at single-tasking. I have an overactive mind, and it’s difficult for me to focus on one thing at a time. Deep focus is required for creative work and I have some creating I want to do.

I am choosing WRITE because I really want to write and publish a book. I’ve been working on two different books–one that I need to write and one that I want to write. It’s high time I finish the book I need to write and to do so, I need to act like a Writer. I need to write.

The last word, HELL YEAH, is — I know — two words, but hey, it’s my life and I make the rules. This has been one of my words for the last handful of years or so. I choose Hell Yeah because, for some years now, I’ve been wanting to be more spontaneous, daring, and fun. I have a lot of fun in my life, but I’m a planner, and so much of my fun is planned. I chose “Hell Yeah” as one of my words and intentions for this year because I want to “let loose” more. I want to dare to say “Hell Yeah” when I would normally overthink it before holding back and saying No, or even Hell No. I want to have more Hell Yeah in me and my life.

I’m excited to report that I’ve said Hell Yeah a lot and followed it up with action. The result is I’ve had some exhilarating experiences that I wouldn’t have otherwise had. I’ve been inspired to let loose and say Hell Yeah more often for at least 6 years now.

That’s because, in 2013, I read, and have since been influenced by, a 2009 article, written by Derek Sivers, called No “Yes.” Either “HELL YEAH!” or “No.”

I was also inspired to have more Hell Yeah in my life when I led my first Epic Women Wind River expedition in August of 2013. After we climbed a tall mountain on Day 2, the Epic Women, who had traveled from Rhode Island, Chicago, California, Alaska, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Laramie, WY, for the adventure, took a plunge in the ice-cold alpine lake near our camp. I watched in awe and thought the ladies were crazy. Then the ladies turned the tables and “coached” me into taking the plunge. It was freezing — and exhilarating.

After that icy plunge, I realized that I didn’t want to sit on the sidelines and be reasonable during such occasions. I wanted to be a person who lives more, and who “goes for it” more often. I think it was in those moments after I had dared to take the icy plunge that the initial “I-want-to-say-hell-yeah-more-often” seed was planted. But it took time to grow and to sprout.

In 2015, I slid down a waterfall with my three sons that I hadn’t slid down since I was 18 years old, some 30 years earlier. As I did it, I screamed and was scared, but also excited, and for a moment felt like a teenager again.

In early 2016, we decided to take a 30-day Europe trip in the summer that we weren’t sure we could afford, but realizing it won’t be long before our boys are off to college, we said, Hell Yeah. We followed that Epic family trip up with a pilgrimage on Spain’s Camino de Santiago, and most recently, an epic trip to Iceland.

I have been playing some great basketball games with Jerry and the boys in the hotel pools when we travel — something I never used to do. I’ve been going on scarier rides and bigger rollercoasters at amusement parks.

I get up to see sunrises and I chase sunsets and set the alarm so I can see particular constellation events. I don’t want to sleep through these things. I don’t want to be too lazy to get off the couch to see a rainbow.

I’ve said Hell Yeah to some work opportunities I wasn’t sure I could do but wanted to be able to do. I’ve been pulled fast on a tube behind a boat on Lake Powell while one of my sons drove the boat trying their best (and doing a good job of it) to give me a ride I could barely hang on to and that I would never forget.

And the list goes on…

All of these Hell Yeah experiences make me feel young and more alive. Who doesn’t want that? And I believe these experiences, because of their novelty, and because they make a person feel so alive, help to create unforgettable — truly lasting — memories.

At the end of our life, we won’t remember everything. It’s not possible. Having more unforgettable experiences has been part of my personal mission for years now, and saying Hell Yeah helps me to stay on mission.

My favorite poet, the late Mary Oliver, wrote: “When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. When it is over, I don’t want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”

Saying Hell Yeah keeps me from merely visiting this world, from just existing.

It wasn’t until recently, though, that I really cranked it up. I hesitated on sharing this because I was concerned that people might judge me, possibly unfairly, but oh well. After all, I didn’t break any laws, and I had the time of my life.

So here it goes: I went to a rave. I should say we went to a rave. Jerry, my husband of 28 years, is a real trooper. Thankfully, he’s game for just about anything I suggest.

Jerry and I have three sons: Fin, 13, Hayden, 18, and Wolf, 20. During our spring break, we took a road trip that included camping and exploring a bunch of state and national parks, sledding down giant sand dunes, exploring the hoodoos of Goblin Valley, and — and the end, a fancy hotel, fancy dinner, and tickets to a Utah Jazz basketball game.

About halfway through the trip, in Colorado Springs, we spent the day hiking 14 miles of trails in the gorgeous Garden of the Gods. By evening, the boys were tired, and we were all sweaty and stinky and covered in dirt, so we got a hotel for the night. As we were taking turns getting cleaned up, the boys hinted they felt like they had earned some “Privs.” (Privs means privileges, which, for our boys, mean video games/”screen time.”) We had had a very active spring break so far, so theirs was not an unreasonable request. Plus, Jerry and I saw the opportunity: We could have a date! (Can I get a Hell Yeah?!)

For the last several months, I had been listening to a lot of Electronic Dance Music on Spotify, and Jerry liked it, too. ( Polish Ambassador, The Chainsmokers, DJ Snake, David Guetta, etc.) Jerry and I love to dance, but other than the occasional wedding we attend, or a Lander Live event, we don’t get many chances to dance. So while Jerry was in the shower, I quickly Google-searched EDM in Colorado Springs. To my delight, there was a well-known DJ performing at a club called Rawkus, which was described as a “sizable, rollicking nightspot with a bar & neon lighting, plus a lineup of DJs & live music.”

When Jerry got out of the shower, I proposed my idea — that we go to Rawkus, an EDM club. After looking at me long enough to confirm I was serious, he agreed.

Jerry put on a polo shirt, and I put on my only shirt that wasn’t a t-shirt — a blouse — and I used my Uber app to request a ride. We told the boys we were going to an EDM club, and the older sons — the ones who know what EDM is — laughed, rolled their eyes, but then were encouraging. They told us to have fun and to feel free to stay out (away) for a long time.

The adventure started when the Uber driver showed up. A kind and outgoing woman showed up in a maroon minivan. She quickly moved the two baby car seats and a soccer ball out of the back seat to make room for us. On her dashboard was a bobblehead Jesus, and there were wallet-sized photos of two young, adorable children, a girl, and a boy, clipped to the visor above the front passenger seat. The van smelled like vanilla, which was coming from the yellow pine tree air freshener that was hanging from the volume knob on the van’s radio.

“Where would you like to go?” she asked. “The Rawkus,” I said. She responded with, “Ohhh, Rawkus, huh? Feeling raucous tonight, are we?!” Jerry and I laughed, and together exclaimed, “Yes!” And I think — I’m pretty sure — she added, “Wow, I didn’t see that coming…”

As our driver pulled out of our hotel parking lot, she asked us what kind of music we’d like to listen to. I could tell Jerry was impressed. I travel a fair amount and have used Uber a lot, but this was Jerry’s first Uber experience, and he was surprised by the customer service. I whispered to him that Uber drivers are rated by their passengers so drivers aim to provide a great experience. Her asking us for our musical preference was part of that.

“You pick,” I offered.

Our driver said she loved Hip Hop and asked if some of that would be okay.

We said that would be fine. Our boys listen to a fair amount of Hip Hop. We don’t dislike it.

She pressed some buttons on her stereo and on came a Hip Hop song by Big Sean. The music was so loud that we could feel the bass thumping underneath our seats and up against our backs and heads. I think the van’s windows were rattling. I was shouting as I tried talking to Jerry. Our driver maneuvered through Friday night traffic as the Jesus on her dashboard bobbled.

Our driver pulled up to the Rawkus building and opened the van’s sliding door for us. With our ears ringing, we hopped out, and she yelled, “Have fun — and dance like you don’t know anyone!” Yeehaw, I thought to myself, as I made a mental note to give our driver a rave review.

We found our way to the front entrance of Rawkus. The club wasn’t open yet, but the sign on the door indicated it would open in 15 minutes so we started a line.

Soon, others started to show up. They didn’t get in line with us, but sat or stood near the entrance. I noticed none of them had polo shirts on or blouses. They were many years younger than us. It’s not that we’re old, but Jerry’s 57, and I’m 52, and well, it’s not hard to be younger than we are.

I felt sort of self-conscious. It seemed like everyone who showed up looked at us. They looked at us with curiosity. Maybe it’s because we had on collared shirts. Or maybe it was because we were older. We were a novelty.

As we were waiting, I spied a huge “Bingo” sign on a building in the same parking lot. It dawned on me that the other people waiting for the Rawkus doors to open were probably thinking we were at the wrong place; that we had intended to be in line at the Bingo Hall.

The doors finally opened, and we were the first to stand on the dance floor.

I was full of anticipation for what I hoped would be a night of energetic music and a lot of hard dancing. Jerry got a beer, and I had a glass of wine as we stood on the dance floor waiting for the first of many DJs to arrive and start the beats. There were people lining up at the front of the dance floor, near the DJ. The backs of their shirts said things like “Headbanger” and “Peace” and “Harmony” and some words and phrases I won’t include here.

A man and a woman came over to us and introduced themselves. Their gesture was kind, but also awkward. It felt sort of like when you’re at a banquet, and people come up to introduce themselves. After some polite small talk, the man asked, “Is this your first Rave?” I felt a quick panic rush over me. A Rave? Are we at a Rave? I wondered. I hadn’t considered that we were attending a Rave, and my mind flashed to what I thought of as a Rave — a big festival of people high out of their minds on drugs, with possibly some orgies going on. (I don’t get out much!)

But quickly I returned to the present, and this didn’t look anything like that. What seemed like a little too much later, Jerry responded to the man, that no, we had never been to a Rave before. The couple welcomed us and then walked away.

Soon, the first DJ arrived, and it went dark, except for an amazing neon light show and some strobe lights. The music started.

Before we knew it, we were dancing our guts out. All the others were banging their heads up and down, from their torsos up. The music was electrifying, so we followed suit. As soon as there was a break in the music, we consumed tall glasses of water. Jerry was stoked. He was loving the powerful bass, reporting that it felt as if it were reverberating through his entire body. Despite the big hike earlier in the day, I felt energized. And youthful.

During the course of the night, people of various races, genders, and ages, came up to us and high-fived us or offered big, boisterous hugs. A few of them remarked, “It’s so great to see you guys here.” Another person came up to me, hugged me, and remarked, “So you really like this music?” And I said yes. We must have looked like we had gotten off at the wrong station. We were, compared to almost everyone else in attendance, old, and we had on collared shirts.

After a lot more headbanging and dancing, we were dripping in sweat.

My FitBit reported 64,000 steps — 30,000 of them (12 miles worth) from dancing, the others from the hiking we did earlier. (I know–who wears a Fitbit to a rave? A dork.)

When we could no longer lift our feet off the ground or jump around, we called it a night and called for an Uber.

We struck gold because our chauffeur was Elvis (or the perfect impersonation of Elvis.) When we got into the car, the volume was low, but we could hear Jailhouse Rock.

As soon as Jerry and I were buckled into the back seat, our driver asked us if we liked Elvis. “Of course,” we assured him. How could we respond differently? As if to make sure our driver had our respect, Jerry repeated how awesome Elvis’ music is, and in response, the driver changed songs to Love Me Tender and starting singing loudly. Love me tender / Love me sweet / Never let me go / You have made my life complete / And I love you so…

There’s a difference between singing out loud to a song and performing. Our driver was performing. And his performance was stupendous.

It felt like I was in a dream. After Love Me Tender, came I Did It My Way, which I think was originally a Frank Sinatra song, but one that Elvis sang.

As I listened, I thought immediately of my Aunt Carol, and her late husband, my Uncle Bob, whose favorite song was Elvis’ rendition of I Did It My Way. Then my mind found its way back to our driver’s spectacular singing.

And now, the end is near; And so I face the final curtain. My friend, I’ll say it clear, I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain. I’ve lived a life that’s full. I’ve traveled each and every highway; But more, much more than this, I did it my way. Regrets, I’ve had a few; But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do. And saw it through without exemption. I planned each charted course; Each careful step along the byway, But more, much more than this, I did it my way.

As we approached our destination, I told Elvis that I Did It My Way was a favorite of mine. “I love it so much,” I said, adding, “You are a spectacular singer.” And I meant it.

Then Elvis offered, “If you like, I can drive around a few extra blocks so you can hear it to the end?”

Hell yeah. I told him yes, please.

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew; When I bit off more than I could chew. But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out. I faced it all and I stood tall; And did it my way…

The song ended, and so did our ride, and our unforgettable date. We gave our personal Elvis a generous tip and made our way back to the hotel room and our sons. Jerry and I were still buzzing from the Epic night. It had been an exhilarating experience.

I dared to share this story and experience in hopes that it might inspire you to say Yes (Hell Yeah) to things that could bring you more aliveness, and create more unforgettable moments.

So far, saying Hell Yeah on a somewhat regular basis is proving to be a great strategy for living more. That’s why I’m keeping it as one of my words for 2021.

What will your 3 words be for 2021?

Looking to make any changes in 2021? I’m offering a free 1-hour call to anyone who is considering hiring and working with a coach, or could just use some extra support right now. There’s no obligation and I’ll give you my very best. To schedule a call with me, please email me at coach@yourepiclife.com. Here is a video that features several clients sharing about what it’s like to work with me.