Tell me a story. Tell me one of the most impactful moments of your early life.
What comes to mind when I ask that? Where does it take you?
I feel myself racing through experiences. My mind is catches glimpses of scenes. Most are fleeting, but some are more substantial. Some stories really stay with us. It’s remarkable— almost magical—the way we can sort and recall our memories.
I get stuck a lot.
Recently I’ve been working on some additional offerings for my readers. Right now I have two primary ways that I help people find and clarify their work, calling, and passions: blog posts and one-on-one work. Those are two ends of a spectrum, with blog posts reaching many people in a small way and one-on-one sessions reaching a few people in a deep way. I’m working on a few projects to fill out the in-between.
I like to think of myself as a hopeful person. And I really am— sometimes. Other days it feels like the sun will cease to shine and that there is no point to anything. I can become quite pessimistic on those days.
To hope is to desire something to exist that currently does not exist. It is the expectation and desire for something to happen. The challenge of hope is that expectation is a double edged sword:
When I was young I would tell people that I wanted to be a rock star when I grew up. Most of the time they took it as a joke; and most of the time I delivered it as a joke. But a good joke is funny because it speaks some amount of truth. For me, the truth was that I wanted to be a rock star. I wanted the lights, the stage, the enthusiastic fans. I wanted all of that.