In reading this post recently by Dean Wesley Smith, he articulates a sentiment that strikes a blow at the ego, which is a dare for us to be bad.

We can get so caught up in caring about how our work will be perceived, we stop ourselves from shipping it.
From showing it.
From sharing it with others.

Instead, we need to dare ourselves to just put it out there.

I love this because the mindset frees you.

Yeah, sure, it might be bad… and it might fail.

In fact, it might fail miserably.

And the more I think about my own failures, the more I realize I’ve been bad—a lot.

More times than I can remember, really.

Yet, here I am… still standing.
Still going.

Learning from all those experiences and daring to keep wading out into the deep to see if I can swim.

Really, the worst that can happen to you is—nothing. You are merely ignored in the midst of the endless stream of people also putting their work out there.

It doesn’t stand out, or mildly stands out and is forgotten quickly.

The only damage that ever occurs is to the ego, which is the force stopping a person from even trying. It’s our grandoise sense of self-importance in a cosmos that is 13.7 billion years old that protects us from even the mildest form of criticism.

I often tell people the worst thing that could happen to you is praise because it could lead to stagnation, at which point, when the praise stops… the bitterness sets in. Then you go from daring to be bad to actually being bad.

We can all dare to put ourselves out there as the worst thing that could happen is we learn something from it.

Seems like a great tradeoff to me.

It has to start somewhere.

The life cycle we all fall victim to that keeps playing back at us, making us feel worse off every time we loop it.

It’s the cycle of making commitments, failing those commitments and then making them again.

Loop on repeat.

For life.

Until finally (hopefully) we one day throw our arms in the air and say that enough is enough. Today is the day the cycle will break.

Going forward, there will be no looking back and no returning to the starting point. We enter into a completely new path that doesn’t turn us right back around again.

But it has to be us making the move.

Being forced into it, by whatever agent responsible for that push, still doesn’t break the cycle. We find ways to sneak back into the loop, hide our true intentions and return to where we started.

However…

If we do find ourselves back in the loop, we know what the start looks like. We know the obstacles ahead and we know where the path will end.

At that point, the smartest move to make is to avoid the obstacles by preparing for them.

Because at some point, if we want to move forward, the cycle has to break.

While every post on this site is about what I’ve been thinking, struggling with, working through or excited to share—this one is the rare transparent honesty.

This isn’t some kind of rant, but a true evaluation of where I’m at right now.

I underestimated the magnitude of the last few weeks. By a long shot.

But now, I’m really feeling it taking its toll.

Contrast to the fatigue I felt as a parent of an infant, where sleep is rare and patience is razor thin, this is something different.

I’ve used up all my creative capacity, all my energy and all my good intention to skyrocket the start of the year, finding a new rhythm to work within.

It’s been fruitful and I’ve been touched by the incredible positive feedback, but with the onslaught of new developments that are passed down every day, it just feels like another weight pressing down.

I know it’s getting bad because I’m not sleeping at night and I feel the irritability building inside. Even my most treasured creative outlet and mental reprieve, which is my writing, isn’t helping.

When I sit at the keyboard to let loose, I shut down. My creative energy has been spent.
My mental capacity is done.
My fatigue sets in.

Then I look at my household and realize how much it’s been neglected. I stress over not wanting my family to feel the exhaustion I’m experiencing, while at the same time, recognizing how reliant I am on them.

They continue to feed me and for that, there is no gratitude that can be measured in words.

But it further wears me down that I need to stay strong for them.

Understandably, this is just another season.

I will get through it like all others and there’s no reason to get bogged down by it. There is always a choice I have each day and the best one I can make is for joy.

I will never know the pain of what others go through. The real pain of a lifetime of suffering to which there is no reprieve. A pain to which there is nothing to be thankful for except for an end to it all.

And I will never know how a person, who has literally gone through hell, can still stand up straight with a smile on their face and walk as though the flames never touched them.

Bigger picture—there is some real suffering out there.

Me?

I’m just tired in every part of who I am… and it sucks.

There’s a noise that exists outside of your bubble. It’s a piercing noise that completely interrupts anything you are doing and all the good you are accomplishing.

It’s a discouraging noise and one that attempts to derail the path you’re on, or the walk you’re taking. It’s draining, exhausting and can easily wear you down.

The funny thing about this noise is it occurs after you’ve made some noise… did some good… established something solid. It only comes after your bubble of the universe has grown to be visible to others.

Sometimes, however, this noise finds you because it’s a giant megaphone that blankets a large area without regard for who hears it.

This noise sounds different every time you tune yourself to hear it:

It’s a suggestion that there’s a better way to be doing what you’re doing.

It’s a criticism that you aren’t good enough.

It’s a siren call to join the multitudes who spend their time complaining.

It’s a debate between others that you mentally involve yourself in, even knowing there will never be a clear settlement… no matter how benign the topic.

Through it all, there’s a few things you need to remember about the origin of this noise—people talk a lot and they complain a whole lot more.

Very few are willing to take action, ignore it and keep going.

If you’re onto something good, you’re loving what you’re doing and the people you’re serving are loving it too, then do yourself a favour and ignore everything else.

In the beginning was the story and the story was what connected us.

It’s the telling of a story from one person to the next that passes on all the knowledge, information and wisdom from one generation to another. We don’t relate to each other in facts, but in our own experience to the story being told.

When we can plug into the story being expressed, we share a responsibility with the storyteller to add our chapter to it. We recognize this story is what all of us can plug into…

and why it needs to be defended.

A story that binds people together also has the power to bind other people from speaking.

When we talk about dehumanizing another person, what we’re really talking about is taking away their narrative. We reduce them to nothing more than their physical makeup and disregard everything else.

That’s why early civilizations knew if you wanted to completely conquer another group, you burned their libraries.

Erased their stories.

Take them out of existence to never be remembered again.

However, sometimes the story goes wrong. It takes a twist we weren’t expecting… or wanting… and then we have to take it upon ourselves to change it. Reclaim it.

Other times, the story surprises us. It takes us down a path we would’ve never gone with on our own.

It teaches us.

It guides us.

It shows us what it means to be human.

We can feel so small compared to the grand scale of the universe, until we remember—we are not part of the universe, but the universe reflecting on itself, telling its own story.

Right now we are tense patients in the waiting room of disaster. As the world around us continues to show the chaos of what is to come, we wait for the ball to drop.

We ask ourselves questions:

Is this it for us?
Can we even prepare?
What next?

In fact, if I were to summarize this past year in two words, it would be just that: What next?

It’s almost like a running joke where people exaggerate the punchline, taking it to extremes that couldn’t possibly occur—just to alleviate their stress at what might be. However, it might be a good time to ask another question:

What can we do right now?

We are not in the waiting room of life, hopelessly distracting ourselves with out of date magazines until our name is called. We are living life.

Right now.

We can still find ways to be content, to help others and to act in a practical manner.

There are enough stresses being levied our way and dumped on our doorstep. We don’t need to add any more to it and it’s in our best interest to find the ones we can rightfully ignore or sweep away.

Humanity has endured all we’re facing and more.

Let’s get out of the waiting room and go on living any way we can.

I thought I was prepared for the past few weeks as a new school year began. Understanding the circumstances of what I was heading into were vastly different than any previous year, I felt prepared for the storm.

It didn’t end up being a storm.

It was more like two hurricanes coming together (an incident that was actually in danger of happening) while a hailstorm pelted me from all angles. The best I could do was hold on and keep focused on getting through it.

The very systems and pillars I setup to mitigate the effects of what was happening fell apart. And it’s those very pillars I needed to return to in order to get back on track.

It’s the beauty of experience that tells us why things fall apart in our lives, then gives us the metaphorical kick to get back on track.

And what is it that really falls apart?

The elements that make us content human beings.

We each have a physical, emotional, mental and spiritual side. If any of those fall to the wayside, it shows.

When more than one falter, it not only affects you, but the people around you. They see it and respond to you differently.

Thankfully, I have some incredible support systems that prevent me from falling. These are people, habits and mindsets that catch me when I’m flying off course and make sure I don’t stray too far from where I need to be.

And now… it’s just a matter of continuing where I left off. After all, I can only give the best to others when I have something in me to give.

The expectation when learning something new is to have some kind of linear progression.

You start with a foundation, whatever it may be, then build upon it in a systematic way while ensuring you’ve met certain milestones.

In education, the typical milestone is a quiz, test or assignment.

For others who may be mentoring, there might be certain parameters of achievement: number of pounds lost, dollars earned, widgets made, etc.

Ideally, we’d like to think learning happens on this linear path because it makes rational sense. You start from here, follow this line and end up there.

However, what really happens is something wildly different.

You start from your own lived experience. Then you build upon it using only information that makes sense and relates to you.

It’s a piece here and a tidbit there, each one slowly adding itself to a much larger picture. Learning happens in peaks and valleys.

We rarely see the progression because it’s so subtle and doesn’t directly compare to someone else’s experience or expectation.

It can be frustrating too.

Sometimes, we just want to directly emulate or follow another person’s best laid plan and expect the same results. But doing so always ends up in failure because any diversion along the path and you’re sunk.

And diversions happen quite often.

The best course of action is to use what is useful to you right now. Use what makes sense and something you can work with in the moment.

Then, keep coming back to the source materials that got you moving in the first place. You’ll be surprised at how much more is there that you just didn’t see before.

This is the way we need to do things.

This is how we’ve always done things.

This is how we’re going to do things now.

You shouldn’t do it that way.

You need to do it this way.

According to… that isn’t the best/easiest/smartest way to do it.

And yet, what has always been working for you continues to work if you’re willing to smile, nod—then close the door and keep doing it.

Ignore the noise and keep going.

If what you do is from a place of love, it’ll flow right out of you.

There’s no need to force it, trick it or guilt yourself on the endless temptations we typically fall prey to because of our mental (or physical) roadblocks. The love we have will override and win any battle that engages our minds, hearts and souls.

Doing it from a place love will be the only guidance you need on what direction you need to go and what actions you need to take.

It’s the only voice you ever need to listen to… really.

This doesn’t mean it won’t be without conflict. It doesn’t mean there won’t be difficulty, or stumbling blocks, or resistance. But it does mean you’ll be willing to fight through because it’s worth it.

And sometimes, a place of love is something that is cultivated over time. It’s not always a case of a love for something causes you to take action because there’s also an opportunity that repeated actions end up being something you love.

The two end up being intertwined at some point and it’s difficult to tell which led the other.

However, when you do it from a place of love, however you got there, it’s obvious. It’s plainly obvious to yourself, to those around you and anyone looking in can see it etched into the very fiber of what you’re doing.

A place of love gives you pride.

It casts aside the opinions of others, allowing you to focus only on what matters to you. It frees you from the demands of what’s expected by others and opens you up to the demands of what you were put on this Earth to do… and the people you should be around.

If you’re not doing it out of love, it’s time to ask the hard question:

Why are you even bothering?