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?

Before you think this is another post about food, and perhaps my insatiable desire to eat more of it, it’s the backdrop to something much bigger.

The title of this post seems like I’ve misstated the popular phrase, “You are what you eat.”

However, consuming is not limited to the dinner table and what’s on it.

Instead, consider what your mind consumes all day long. From the moment you wake up, your senses are taking in the world. In my case, it’s the pitter-patter of little feet as my child comes to the bedside to let us know she’s awake.

After that point, I do my best to prevent the influx of information before I’ve had time to center myself.

I know, from experience, to jump online to check email, read the news or scroll through social media feeds is instantly setting my mind up to being poisoned. It’ll get addicted to the drama, the traumatic and the emotional triggers.

It puts the mind in a place of submission, a state of exhaustion and yet, it’ll still hunger for more.

Should you be aware of what’s happening in the world?

Yes, of course… in the same way a person should delight in a dessert every so often.

Let it be the finish to something more satisfying and done in small quantities.

Feed your senses something good and it’ll manifest to the rest of your day.

One of the most powerful lessons I learned about World Religions is the prevalence of food at religious festivals. In other words, all festivals are associated with or revolve around food… or a certain type of food.

And the festivals that stand out do so because there is no food, or there’s a fast associated with it.

In a world that is hyper-obsessed with calorie counting and viewing food as nothing more than fuel, we forget the rich memories associated with it. If you’re alive today, it’s because you’ve eaten–probably a number of times.

Food is more than just a carbon based construct. It’s an entire sociological gathering that is directly tied to our culture.

We all have a memory of a certain dish, meal, or holiday with a feast associated with it. We might even look forward to the holiday (or dread it) for that reason.

What makes food special though, is the community aspect of it.

It’s the sitting down together and sharing a meal that stands out because you don’t break bread with an enemy. If someone is sitting at your table, chances are they have been invited to sit and their chair is symbolic as an acceptance in your life.

They are being welcomed.

Consider the high school cafeteria. How meaningful is it when the outcast student is invited to sit with a group?

Or how about the workplace when the usual cliques break apart and join at one table?

Now, they may ruin that chance. They may never be invited back, or their time there might be turbulent, but the food on the table was the invitation to build that relationship.

Breaking bread is more than the fueling of our bodies. It’s the fueling of our souls.

It’s the most excruciatingly vulnerable thing to admit. It represents a moment of weakness completely exposed for others to see and–possibly even a more embarrassing point–know your faults.

The act of asking for help is to say you cannot do it yourself.
You can’t handle it.
It’s beyond you.

And yet, when you consider what you just did, it’s an act of incredible revelation.

You were willing to see your own shortcomings, to recognize your limitations and make a difficult situation better. It’s a self-awareness brought on by a battle that humility won against your ego.

Needing help isn’t admitting you are a weak person, but that you are strong enough to ask for what you need.