Sidebar 10 - Books As Companions (pt.4)

I finished Big Magic last night and there was a section I felt compelled to share with Addie. Liz describes a dream in which you find a room in your house that you never knew was there before and and being filled with an expansive sense of wonder.

I read that sense into my life. We feel a little stuck. A little scared. A little like that foundation we had in our past life is gone and we’re completely adrift. A little horrified that riding on the bus to the hospital to deliver your first baby in a foreign country might be the worst mistake we ever make.

Layer on top of that the background fear that we might never see some of our loved ones again. Or maybe only one more time. And… you get a pretty gnarly knot of fear, anxiety, doubt, and shame.

And Liz reached through that cloud with writing and provided a corpuscular ray of hope. It might be a mistake for us to be here. But it’s our mistake and we’ll get the choice to decide what to do with it if a negative outcome manifests. It’ll only be the biggest mistake we ever make if we stop making big choices.

But we both want to live a big life.

Since I shared my embarrassing thought in Part 18 (which I haven’t even published yet as I draft this), an incredible thing has happened. That idea, that I want to be the President of the United States, has stuck in my brain.

More than once I’ve found myself thinking, how might a future president behave in this situation? How might the leader I want to be show up here? And it’s working.

My work product improved. I was more open and supportive for Addie. I did some important baby prep via a store run for drugs and backup formula and other “essentials.” I tidied clutter around the “house.” And generally got my head out of my ass.

Behold, the power of sharing an embarrassing thought instead of letting it roll around in my noggin driving anxious pacing. Behold, the power of journaling. Behold, the power of sharing, even to an audience of none.

And yet, if I didn’t post musings like this to the wider web I wouldn’t write them. I’d still just be pacing around my apartment from years ago wondering when my life was going to start. So I’ll circle back quickly to gratitude here.

Thank you for reading this, if you are. It’s life-changing for me to post.

And an extended thank you to Seth Godin for posting to seth.blog every day for decades. And to Tim Ferriss for making instead of wishing. And to Shane Parrish for writing an anonymous blog before launching Farnam Street publicly. And to Ryan Holiday for introducing me to the idea of the Commonplace Book so many years ago. And to Morgan Housel for teaching me that writing for an audience of one is enough. And of course to Liz and Anne and Natalie for giving me the theoretical and emotional framework to know what to do with this manic creative energy.

I woke up this morning ready to get some work done. I had this vision of stretching daily to improve my golf game (though I likely won’t touch a club in years). I had visions of my baby running around in a buddy’s backyard, while we go to town reconstructing my swing after a long hiatus. I had visions of a software app delivered to a friend. A podcast shipped that lets me stay in touch with people and study timeless content that I find fascinating. I pictured myself productive, at peace, moving steadily on. Working through the next creative endeavor, together with others.

And then I got my computer and got some work done. This post is just the next little domino. The next 20 minute increment of a life worth living. And it flashed.

What started as “in 25 years I plan to run for President of the United States,” turned into several days I’m proud to have lived. And it created the thought for a new series called The Once and Future King tracking leadership through the ages.

Pretty interesting what a book, a thought, and the courage to share it can manifest.

Onwards.