A year ago today, my son got his first library card.

It was a proud moment for me to take him into a building we’ve become accustomed to and walk away with a card to call his own. He was pretty damn excited to use it right away.

Books are a huge deal in my household. My wife and I are avid readers and even if my children don’t become books with legs as we did, they will know the value of reading.

The library was the cornerstone for me growing up because it provided an opportunity to read, explore and discover. My parents would often drop me off at a location and let me be for an afternoon while I journeyed into the pages of magic, strategies for Monopoly and mystery adventures.

It was truly a place to wander and I was free to discover something new without an algorithm to suggest what I may like.

It cultivated curiosity.
It encouraged solitude.
It taught focus.

Before I ever graduated from any of my degree programs or high school, I first graduated from the library.

The best part is there was no set curriculum. No tests. No assignments.

And yet, I learned.

My home growing up is legendary for not having any lights on. From an early age, my parents trained us to turn off the lights the second they’re no longer in use (coincidentally, they always yelled at us for doing things in the dark).

After her first few visits, my wife often joked we must use sonar to get around the house.

It didn’t occur to me that we were so used to every corner, that we no longer needed to turn the lights on to get anywhere or get anything. We just did it all in the dark.

Which can be said for any person who intimately knows their home or their craft.

It’s the professional chef who knows their ingredients so well, they can tell what the dish is going to taste like without ever needing a recipe. They adjust as they go.

It’s the mechanic who can just listen to a car and know what’s wrong.

It’s the writer who doesn’t outline, plan or edit because they know how to make their words sing.

It’s the musician who plays their instrument as an extension of themselves.

We look upon them as real magicians, a wonder to see and appreciate. And yet, we live in a world that continues to look for efficiencies, lower costs and outsourced labour… whether that labour is elsewhere on the planet or technological.

The beauty of the master at work is replaced by the faster imitation that conforms to technical specs.

And yet, the efficiencies can only go so far.

“They don’t make them like they used to,” is now being replaced by, “I’m making them like they used to.”

There’s a resurgence in the skills we were losing and pride being taken at pursuing the craft. There’s a longing for the soul that goes into the work.

Our failed attempt at having the illusion of knowledge about everything is slowly being taken back with the reality of having knowledge about something.

We are using the platforms to share our mentorship with everyone. And for that reason, we are living in the best time to develop sonar for something we love.

I always wondered what the world looked like during one of the revolution periods of thinking.

The Enlightenment, for instance, would’ve been a wonder to observe. Not from a historical perspective, but from a lived experience on the ground. First hand.

To the people, it must’ve been utterly chaotic.

Ideologies were challenged, political structures were being reworked, borders were changing, new economies emerged and empires were toppling. From an average person’s point of view, I’m sure this would’ve been overwhelming.

And yet, here we are almost two hundred years later and it seems we’re going through the same process.

We always wonder what the future is going to look like and now we get a chance to see it being made firsthand. The difference is we will have ample evidence for future historians to sift through in order to determine what the experience was like.

That’s not to say we should just sit back and enjoy the ride.

An upheaval of the everyday ways of life comes at a great cost. It’s uncomfortable, painful and is filled with nothing but uncertainty.

We can go into it kicking and screaming, or we can do the unbelievably hard work of shaping it.

A few years ago, I wrote a manuscript about building rapport with students. It was something that was on my heart and while I hesitated to release it, I did show it to my good friend Christopher Poulsen (whom I co-wrote Transforming the Heart with many moons ago).

He loved it and told me there were so many talking points in it, we should make a podcast to discuss.

Since then, I’ve polished the manuscript and feel ready to release it (feeling more confident about it now). However, Chris and I revisited our idea to start a podcast and decided to test run recording an episode.

It was rough, but the content was good.

So we recorded another… then another… then brought on guests and now we’re committed.

Originally, our idea was to just focus on teaching Religion, but it’s been branching out into something even more:

The story of teaching as it happens.

At this point, we have guests lined up until the end of October, but more importantly, we finally launched episode one in a podcast we’re calling…

The Unapologists Podcast

New episodes are set to release every Wednesday and barring a few technical points we’re working through right now, they should be pushed out to every platform.

It’s an exciting new venture for me. In the same vein starting my first blog post was rough around the edges and hankering to find its voice, this podcast is feeling the same way.

As the episodes go on, you’ll hear the difference in how comfortable Chris and I get with each other and the people we bring on.

More importantly, you’ll hear some incredible wisdom from some remarkable people.

Check it out and stay tuned for the launch of my next book.

Have you ever tried imitating a comedian, word for word, as if it was your own act, only to have it fall on complacent stares?

Ever wonder why it failed so miserably?

The simple reason is comedy is excruciatingly tough and comedians use an exorbitant amount of subtle techniques that go unnoticed by non-comedians. Also, it’s not your act. It’s their act, with their voice and the circumstances of that audience at that time in that place dictated how they told their jokes.

Comedians spend their first few years trying not to fail. Then they spend a lifetime tweaking, writing, rewriting and practicing every bit they do. Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David literally closed the door to the office and spent their entire time just writing material for Seinfeld. They ignored calls, meetings and everything else just to focus on writing the best show they could.

Starting to get the picture?

Authenticity is not a formula that can be emulated or applied. It’s a living organism with many moving parts that requires your full attention for it to be successful.

The best analogy I can give is a couple who is dating. The most authentic part of the relationship begins when the two begin to see the faults in each other and call them out. This is actually a relief for both because it means they can start being more of who they are without fear of rejection from the other person.

It also means they can take ownership of the relationship, themselves and their responsibilities to each other. Only when that happens does the relationship start to develop depth, where the highs are much higher and the lows are more painful. The two are putting themselves out there for each other.

Words are important, but actions are loud.

Your actions will always dictate whether the words you’re saying are true.

Envy is that feeling we can never quite shake off.

But we have this horrible affliction in our society to envy people for the most materialistic things and passing trends. It’s really just a marketing campaign to work against our insecurities.

We envy people for their possessions, their wealth, their physical appearance (I fall victim to this when I see friends of mine who still have full heads of hair) and their power.

It’s important to note that all power is fleeting. Just open any history book and all you get are stories of people gaining and losing power.

The rest is all just stuff. It comes, it goes and eventually our desires shift to other tastes, making it a moot point to even envy it in the first place.

What we should really envy is joy.

We need to envy the joy that other people have and desire that for ourselves. We need to latch onto it and do everything we can to figure out what is making that way so we can grasp it.

The great part about envying the joy of another person is joy is not limited to class, race, gender or geography. Literally every person on the planet, regardless of their circumstances, has the potential to be joyful.

Find someone in your circumstance who has true joy in their heart. Let them be your guide and stop at nothing to feel the way they do.

When you do so, then no matter what circumstance you find yourself in, you will be joyful… and others will envy you.

Until it comes time to take a look at everything you have.

We severely underestimate the stuff we keep and during this pandemic, where many are taking the time to declutter, they’re discovering just how much accumulates.

As someone who has moved more times than he ever wanted to in his life, I’m always dumbfounded at how much is hidden away. It seems no matter how little I desired and how much I gave away, there was always so much.

In the case of those who needed to clean out a loved one’s estate, just the thought of it is enough to cause despair. It’s gotten to the point where there are industries specifically for this purpose (affectionally called “Estate Cleaning Services.”)

And yet, if you’ve ever had to clean out someone else’s place with the commitment you never want to be the same way, it inevitably happens on a different scale. My parents did not want this for their children and have been fastidious in decluttering their home… which was mainly boxing up all the crap us kids left there and giving it back to us.

The problem is we hold on to things because of their perceived value for the future, or nostalgic elements that someone else may want.

I’m sure given enough time, we’ll be talking about digital hoarding and being a digital minimalist. After all, you can store unlimited things digitally, so go ahead and do it.

However, I’m convinced the outward expression of holding onto things is directly related to the inner things we also hold onto. The identity we tie ourselves to inevitably shapes the physical items we surround ourselves with or store for future use.

We think we’re simple people:

“I’m an open book.”
“People know who I am.”
“I know who I am and what I stand for.”
“I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

But the more you dig, the more you discover.

There are many corners of ourselves we hide, doors we’ve shut in hopes they’ll never open again and latent memories of events that triggered domino effects of behaviours.

Before we start cleaning and decluttering our homes, perhaps we should start with decluttering ourselves.

We don’t have a lot of stuff until we start looking.

How often have we seen, heard or encountered a person who does something that really gets under our skin?

Happens all the time, right?

But then you need to ask, how long does this person stay under our skin?

Sometimes, we can be bothered by them for days… weeks… years, even! They just randomly pop up and it stirs the same emotions in us from the first viewing/hearing/encounter.

It’s even worse when this person is imaginary.

The imaginary straw man you created who is the literal opposite of everything you stand for or who purposefully preys on your hot spots.

They don’t even have a face or a name. They’re just there, in your psyche, riling you up.

At some point, you’re going to have to let go of those people and that involves taking action.

Find out why you get so upset thinking about them and what tangible actions you can take to work against theirs. The call to action will inspire a new mindset in your own life, one that looks at a much bigger picture.

After all, a single person is the end result of a much bigger system. They are just a part of it.

In the case of imaginary people, I find this exercise extremely helpful:

Give them a name.

For instance, every writer has a critical voice that tells them every piece of their writing is no good. I’ve named my critic Geoffrey.

Why? Who’s afraid of a Geoffrey and are you really going to take Geoffrey’s criticism seriously? (see Get Him to the Greek for the inspiration for the name).

You might overhear the following during my writing sessions:

Thanks, Geoffrey. Go away now.
That’s nice, Geoffrey. Now go crawl in a hole and stay there.
Why don’t you do something useful like make me a tea?

It’s fun. It’s cathartic and more importantly, it gets “Geoffrey” out of my head so I can move on with my work.

Whoever is in your head—get them out.

They’re winning the war against you without ever having to be there.

I was driving along a four-lane highway during a particularly busy time. On the route home and nearing the home stretch (only a few hours left) and things were flowing smoothly.

Behind me in the left lane was a transport giving some space and up ahead in the right lane were two other transports. There were a few cars ahead of me in the left lane as well.

Everybody is being conscientious and aware… which is another way of saying nobody was being an idiot.

Then it happened.

A car came zooming up behind me on the right hand lane. With cars in front of me in both lanes, there was really nowhere for this person to go. The person ends up in my blind spot.

I have my wife in the passenger seat and the kids in the back.

There some slowdown ahead and I ease on the gas when all of a sudden, I hear the truck behind me blaring his horn.

Looking into my rear view mirror, I see him backing off pretty quickly.

It was then I realize the person beside me was coming into my lane in an effort to push me off the road.

I can’t speed up because there’s a car directly in front and the lives of my family are too valuable for me to push back or play games. I hit my brakes while honking bloody murder at the person coming in.

My first feeling of gratitude is to the driver behind me who not only warned he was cutting in, but also backed up enough for me to brake without causing a pileup.

Needless to say, the person managed to get ahead of me (with a family in the car as well), but wasn’t going anywhere. Congratulations, you got nowhere.

But then, as you may recall, there were two trucks up ahead in the right lane. One of them slowed down and the other hit his turn signal to jump over lanes.

I smiled.

I knew exactly what was going to happen.

The trucker who slowed down, did it enough to keep his pace just ahead of the car ahead of me. The other trucker edged into the left lane, allowing the cars to pass in a hurry while cutting off the dangerous culprit.

I eased up on the gas and told my wife, “Watch this.”

Both trucks slowed right down to well below highway speeds. They saw what happened and decided to teach a little lesson.

I could see the frustration on the driver of the car in front of me. He was yelling obscenities and frantically waving his arms because he had nowhere to go except the ditch.

It was one of the rare moments where I didn’t mind going slow and I took it all in to enjoy the show. My face hurt from smiling.

This went on for a while before the highway opened up to six lanes and the car sped off again.

I stuck my arm out the window, honked my horn a few times and gave the thumbs up to the truck drivers around me. They honked back.

With all the talk of automation and self-driving trucks, it’s moments like this I’m going to miss.

I’ll miss asking truck drivers for best times to travel to certain cities, which to take and which to avoid.

I’m also going to miss all the businesses that depend on long distance drivers along the highway.

My teenage self will miss my friend’s dad who used to bring me back Pepsi One whenever he made runs in the US because we couldn’t get it in Canada.

My childhood self will miss pumping my arm up and down in the window to get a trucker to honk his horn (something I taught my son recently and I couldn’t tell if he or the driver got a bigger kick out of it).

We can’t stop the technological disruption, and it’s certainly not there yet (good luck having a computer traverse the icy roads of Canada’s highways with weather that changes every minute), but there’s a lot of humanity that will be stripped away.

And that’s what we should never forget.

What does your heart say?

When it comes time to making a decision, this is the one piece of advice often given. Other variations include

“Listen to your heart.”

“Follow your heart.”

“Let your heart guide you.”

I fear this may be flawed advice.

When our heart, (or gut, or intuition) kicks in, it’s because we are unsettled. The idea we can just listen to it and come to peace knowing we did the right may not be correct.

If our heart is unsettled, we have to ask why. Why is this causing me so much strife?

After all, we want to be able to trust our own intuition which has served humanity well for tens of thousands of years.

But knowing the right path could sometimes translate into following the most comfortable one. Simply, our heart will always fear the unknown.

And in some instances, it may fight against the difficult.

You want to be able to lead your heart.

In the same way a person trains endlessly so they can make the right decisions when the event happens (e.g. paramedics), you want your heart to be prepared.

The Spartan soldiers would train so hard that war actually felt like a vacation from their training. The battlefield felt familiar and that’s what made them fearless warriors.

How often do we lead our heart every day in the same way?

It’s the most precious gift you can offer the world and just following it might lead to more disappointments than peace.

Finding peace in your heart with every decision starts with filling it with peace every day.