Your Brightest Lifeනියැදිය

Are you brave enough to try?

I ate poison oak this morning.

The lovely red-green leaves of the Pacific poison oak glisten softly in the sunlight because they’re coated with urushiol oil. And if just a pinhead’s worth of that sticky resin touches your skin? Get ready for painful, itchy sores to wreck your world.

One day I asked my neighbor Jim—a man who wears suspenders to hold up his weathered work jeans and has earned that head of graying hair—if he knew how to get rid of it.

“Jim, how do you yank out a plant that bites back?”

“Oh,” he said slowly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I used to get poison oak real bad.”

“But now you, what, got rid of it all?”

“No,” he said, as he walked toward some just beyond my deck.

“What you got to do”—he plucked a glistening, red-tinged leaf off the branch between calloused fingers—“is eat a bit of it.”

Concerned for this decent man’s life, I considered snatching the leaf away from him before he could do what he seemed to be considering. But that would give me a rash, so I selfishly decided to see how this played out.

With my eyes wide and while mumbling a prayer on his behalf, I witnessed Jim put that godforsaken leaf in his mouth.

“Now, you don’t want to start out with a whole leaf,” he continued through chews. “Pinch off just a little bit to start and work your way to it.”

As I considered this, I mentioned the conversation I had with Jim to another, much younger neighbor.

“Hey,” I began, hoping she wouldn’t think I was crazy, “have you ever heard of someone building up an immunity to poison oak by, say, eating it?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, all the old-timers say that! I have no idea if it works. I honestly don’t know anyone our age brave enough to try it!”

Sometimes you find out the best info from the old-timers.

It took me a few months to get up the courage, but I finally did it. I ate a tiny piece of poison oak.

I didn’t die (clearly). My insides didn’t itch. I survived a full twenty-four hours with no reaction and finally let out the breath I had been holding since downing itty-bitty poison in a cup.

I’ve spent almost a year now working my way up in leaf-piece sizes as Jim suggested. In that time I’ve been wondering what other information the old-timers possess that would make my life richer, my path smoother, my heartache easier. The lines creasing Jim’s face remind me that his generation won’t be around forever. Before they graduate to the next life, what tips could they give me—even if they sound kooky—that would help me be more resilient, understand God better, or love others well?

It’s good to learn about life from those who have lived it a little longer than us.

I’m not a perfect social feed of good choices, wild success, or polished beauty. But I’ve lived some life. And I think I’ve got a tip or two that could help you live the best, brightest version of yours. (Even if the advice sounds straight-up crazy at first!)

Are you the type of person who cares where her life is headed? If so, and if you’re brave enough, try putting some of these tips into practice. The results might surprise you. But even if the outcomes aren’t perfect, you don’t have much to lose by trying. It’s not like I’m suggesting you eat a poisonous plant or anything.