Category: Thoughts

Keeping it Consistent

Consistency.

It’s an attribute that I treasure more than just about any other.

Being consistent means being reliable. And, when it’s done right, it means being trustworthy.

Basically, it means being exactly what others think you are.

I see great value in this predictability. It provides for deep understanding and meaningful social connections.

And it keeps us at ease.

For, while we say Variety is the spice of life, constant spontaneity is stressful. When we don’t know what to expect from our family and friends from minute to minute, we tend to put up barriers. We become a skeptical observer of the world around us, instead of a participant in it.

Even the biggest hermits among us don’t want this. For if we can’t count on anything, if we can’t even rely on a roof over our head or clothes on our backs, the load can be too much for our mind to carry.

Make no mistake, consistency is a basic condition.

Yet, it’s an incredibly difficult one to pull off.

You see, keeping it consistent means producing the same output, time after time. No off days. No slip-ups. Consistency doesn’t allow for excuses, regardless of their validity.

But to err is human. Our actions and emotions can vary by nature. And this can make consistency seem like an impossible dream.

So, what can we do in the face of this conundrum? We can continue to work at it.

Take Words of the West as an example. Two years ago, I launched this website with four words, I am not perfect. I wasn’t perfect then, and I’m certainly not perfect now.

But I’ll be darned if I haven’t been consistent. I’ve put out an article every week since then.

This is not as easy as it seems. There are some weeks where the inspiration is lacking. And others where life simply gets in the way.

Yet, I continue to fight through these obstacles to put out fresh articles each week. I demand this of myself because my readers expect it from me.

And I can’t bear to break their trust by becoming unreliable.

We can all benefit by taking a similar approach.

By keeping it consistent, we can build connections. We can demonstrate our own reliability. And we can live more fulfilling lives.

This isn’t easy, by any means. It requires grit, determination and sacrifice.

But it’s certainly worth it.

The Dangers of Groupthink

It was a normal Wednesday. I went to work, dressed in dress shoes, slacks and a button-down shirt.

One by one, my colleagues entered the office, all sporting a decidedly more casual look. (My employer doesn’t mandate a dress code, and many of my co-workers seem to be on a daily mission to take full advantage of this liberty.)

After a few minutes, one of my colleagues walked by my cubicle in order to grab coffee from the break room. Noting what I was wearing, she hit me with eight words that cut like a knife.

What are you trying to prove to us?

Then she walked away, without a clue as to how badly she had offended me.

There’s a simple reason I was so rankled by this encounter. The values I extol were being thrown in my face.

You see, I often speak of the benefits of coming together. The virtues of unity. The power of community.

The premise of all this is that people unite for a common good. Yet, practice doesn’t always make perfect.

Sometimes the dominant voice in the room isn’t a tide to lift all boats. Sometimes it serves as an anchor instead.

Psychologists have a name for this behavior: Groupthink.

And while the name sounds innocent enough, it can pack a more destructive punch than a wrecking ball.

Why? Because Groupthink promotes the status quo. But it does so though underhanded threats and coercion against anyone who deviates from this path.

This means underachievers are thrown under the bus. And overachievers are held back.

If you don’t fit in, you’re cast out. It’s a real-life version of “On Wednesdays, we wear pink.”

Groupthink tells us how to style our hair. How to design our homes. What cars to buy. And yes, what clothes to wear to work.

Throughout it all, one message remains supreme.

Better is scary. Good enough is good enough.

Are these the ideals we want to teach our children? God, I hope not.

We live in a world with air travel and supercomputers in our pockets. A world marked by advances in innovation that were spearheaded by those who refused to give in to groupthink.

Do you think Steve Jobs or the Wright Brothers worried about their appearance when they were changing the world as we know it? Do you think they cared about what others perceived about what they were doing?

Not a chance.

Yet, we insist on holding back. On sacrificing what’s possible for what’s popular.

The only thing we secure with this thinking is our own demise.

Let’s chart a new path.

Let’s aspire to be better every day. To challenge our own notions of what’s possible, and then unite around that ideal.

Let’s remember that following leaders who push us forward is better than gravitating toward the pack. After all, no one wins a bicycle race by staying in the Peloton.

Most of all, let’s recognize that Groupthink is a real danger hiding in plain sight. One that we must eradicate to move forward.

Because, to answer my colleague’s question, we all must prove to each other that the status quo isn’t the best we can do. That we have more to contribute by forging ahead then by lagging behind.

Let’s get to it.

Ending Evil

Speechless.

This is how so many of us have felt in the wake of so many recent events. But perhaps never more so than after the rampage in Las Vegas — the deadliest mass shooting in modern American history.

There are simply no words to describe our reaction to an incident as horrid as this. Anger, despair, sadness, grief and shock might come to mind. But, all too often, what actually comes out of our mouth is silence. Something this awful and incomprehensible takes our breath away.

Why don’t we speak up? I believe it’s because we are terrified of being rendered helpless. And devastating events such as these remind us just how little control we really have.

For there is no plausible way to eradicate evil. It can weave its way into our lives by any means possible. To put a spin on an iconic line from Jurassic Park, “Evil finds a way.”

This is extremely unsettling. It undermines any attempts to fully contain the effects of evil. And it proves that a concert in the open desert outside of Indio, California is no safer than one in the shadow of the Las Vegas Strip.

There is no amount of planning that can lower the threat level to zero. Evil is pervasive enough to skirt any barriers we might throw in its way.

If you’re questioning this point, remember that the Twin Towers in New York were designed to withstand airplane strikes. But those best-laid plans went down with the towers on one of the darkest days in American history.

So, if evil is unpreventable, what can we do to respond to it?

We can start by banding together.

You see, evil lurks in the darkest, loneliest places. It thrives in environments of division and doubt.

But, by teaming up with our friends and neighbors, we can find strength in numbers. By emphasizing our commonalities over our differences, we can draw light to the shadowy areas where evil would otherwise populate.

And by giving evil less room to operate, we give ourselves a greater change to build trust. This, in turn, can lead to a safer community — one aligned on the commonality of goodness.

While these initiatives can never bring back those lost to acts of evil, it will at least help us build a world that properly honors their memory.

Yes, ending evil may be a tall order. But the start of that process is certainly within our grasp.

Let’s get to work.

Trust the System

Who can we trust?

This is a fundamental question in life. One that permeates from the board room to the dining room.

Trust is perhaps the most critical element for productive relationships. Yet, it’s both as difficult to obtain and as easy to destroy as fine china. And when trust is broken, it’s as if the knife’s being twisted in our back.

So, we do what we can to protect ourselves from this outcome. When encountering new people, we toggle our trust switch to Off by default. We indicate trust must first be earned, and then be kept.

This indication runs both ways. It requires that we prove our worth to others. And that others prove their worth to us.

We implicitly understand this construct on an individual level. But what about on a wider scale? Can we implicitly trust the systems and constructs our society has built?

Seth Godin says no.

The marketing guru recently penned an article decrying unbridled capitalism. Godin claimed that capitalist utopias can’t exist because people can’t be trusted. That without regulation, the free market system will fail. And that it will fail because it’s human nature for those with unfettered power to unethically exploit those without it.

I’m a huge fan of Seth Godin. I read his blog voraciously and I take his sage advice to heart. I even model my Words of the West articles after his.

But I must admit that Seth is wrong in this instance.

Why? Because he directly implies that people can’t be trustworthy. That without someone watching over our shoulders, our natural instinct is to hurt others.

I find that description upsetting. In part because it kowtows to the wave of divisiveness engulfing our society. And in part because it indicates that we have no free will.

You see, it is true that without anyone lording over a capitalist society, some bad apples would do all they could to exploit others. Heck, these bad actors would probably do this without any remorse.

But would all of us do this by default? No flipping way!

Most of us do have an intact moral compass. We know where True North is, and we are committed to following it.

We learn about right and wrong early in life. And we learn about the fragility of trust through the connections we build with others as we mature.

These principles can help us stay ethical, even when no one’s watching. After all, we recognize that the Golden Rule is still in effect.

To dismiss this behavior as a byproduct of regulation is just plain wrong. It completely discounts the goodness inherent within us.

With that said, here’s what I believe:

I believe the system deserves our trust.

I believe humanity deserves the benefit of the doubt.

And I believe that a free market system is more beneficial than one saddled by regulations.

Most of all, I believe that we need to trust in something in order to trust in each other. So why not trust in a system our own society has built? One that speaks to the inherent goodness within us.

The system works. Trust it.

The Next Mile

Go the extra mile.

It’s one of the more common phrases out there.

Its implied meaning is well known: Give extra effort. But I think there’s a story that lies within the phrase itself.

Go the extra mile demonstrates our love of measurement. Our passion for quantifying everything we do.

It’s why we don’t just track business revenue anymore. We count calories. We count steps. We count friends. And we even count intangibles.

Count Von Count would be so proud.

But while it would be easy to write off our newfound numerical obsession as the latest fad — or a cultural shift — I see it differently.

I think we measure vociferously simply so that we have something to celebrate. That we go the extra mile simply to hit a milestone.

If not for milestones, we wouldn’t have cheat day for our diets. We wouldn’t have squad goals. We wouldn’t be able to brag about just how hard we’ve worked to make it to the weekend.

If not for milestones we wouldn’t stay up late and wear silly hats on a cold night in December. We wouldn’t have cake, gifts and well-wishes one day a year. And we wouldn’t party like it’s 1999 whenever we reach a round number.

Would we really be worse off without all this? Probably not.

You see, living just to smell the roses isn’t really living at all. Life is not about the dots we mark in our planner — it’s about the lines that connect them. It’s more about the journey than the destination.

This is a prime reason why I didn’t put a special article out there when Words of the West hit triple digits. While plenty of others might make a big deal out of publishing their 100th article, I saw no point in it.

For while I am proud of what I’ve built, there’s much more to be gained by looking forward.

So, there were no top 100 lists for Article 100. No “Best Of” features. No streamers or balloons.

There were simply four words: How Can I Help?

It seemed fitting.

You see, helping was why I started this website in the first place. I wanted to provide guidance through my advice, my testimony, my words.

And I’ve shared a lot. I’ve bared my soul about how the horrors of 9/11 have shaped my life. I’ve talked about switching careers with no safety net. I’ve railed against Millennials, spoken out against selfishness and expressed my desire for a more caring and conscientious society.

I’ve done all of this with only thing in mind — my readers.

My hope is that my reflections on the experiences I’ve had, the failures I’ve endured and the lessons I’ve learned could help others live more fulfilling lives. My hope is that my perspective on the more nuanced details of our society could spur thought and productive discussion.

Most of all, my hope is that what I’ve shared has helped others out, and will continue to do so.

That task is never ending. So instead of pausing to celebrate reaching an arbitrary number of articles, I continue on my quest. There is far more work to be done.

I might stand alone in this regard. But it doesn’t need to be this way.

It’s time to shift our focus when it comes to milestones. Instead of using them to see how far we’ve come, let’s consider them a guide for where we have yet to go.

If we can do this, we will measure what truly matters and ensure we make the biggest possible impact.

Forget about the road we’ve taken here. The next mile is what’s most crucial.

How Can I Help?

These are the four most important words in our toolset.

The question “How can I help?” isn’t just meant for customer service anymore. Nor is it restricted to our corporate identity. It resonates in every aspect of our lives.

Making ourselves useful never goes out of style. There is always more that can be done to make the world a better place.

But a spirit of utility goes further than promoting productivity. It can enrich our lives through the connections it builds, the goodwill it spawns and the positive outcomes it makes possible.

You see, every opportunity we come across is a learning experience. But we learn more when we’re active than when we’re passive. In other words, when we’re taking the initiative to provide assistance, we’re putting ourselves in position to learn by doing. We’re taking ourselves out of our comfort zone in order to improve our world, and gathering a bevy of actionable takeaways at the same time.

This is far better than sitting back and waiting for learning experiences to be given to us. While both assigned tasks and sporadic bouts of adversary can provide us powerful lessons to iterate and grow from, they are explicitly out of our control. So, if we learn exclusively this way, we train ourselves to be reactive instead of proactive.

And this means we sell ourselves short.

I say this because our society is built upon utility and connection. That is, the more useful and connected we are, the better off we will be.

With these constructs in place, why would we settle for only the opportunities we’re given? There are so many more opportunities to be had, if we only have the stones to seek them out. And it starts by offering to be useful.

This is a prime reason I commit to asking how I can help as often as I can. It’s not about boosting my ego or padding my resume. It’s about being a better person.

Indeed, offering assistance has helped me gain valuable knowledge beyond the scope of my job function in two separate careers. It’s helped me meet new people and endear myself to them quickly. And it’s made me a better family member, friend and colleague.

More importantly, it’s helped me become a better citizen. Twice in the past decade, I moved to a new region where a hardly knew a soul. But both times, a spirit of utility has helped me forge a foothold in my new home — and quickly.

It’s worked both ways. I learned how to build authentic and lasting connections with my new community simply by being helpful. In turn, I earned a reputation of being empathetic to the everyday trials and tribulations my new neighbors faced.

In fact, I believe the life I’ve built for myself is a direct result of my willingness to put myself out there and lend a hand.

But this principle doesn’t apply to just me. It can work for all of us.

Offering assistance at every turn can make us better employees. It can make us better spouses and parents. And it can make us better friends and neighbors.

Plus, when we all commit to this together, it can make our society more connected and conscientious. When we’ve all got each other’s backs, there’s no limit to what we can do.

It all starts with us. So, let’s use those four powerful words whenever we can.

How can I help?

What’s Next?

Where do we go from here?

It’s a question we often consider. But not with the proper priority.

We tend to only think about our next move in the context of our last one. It’s a pattern that brings us stability and consistency. But it’s also one that can hold us back.

For while we learn the value of retrospection very early on in life, we fail to recognize that peering into the rearview mirror takes our eye off of the road ahead. And focusing too heavily on how we got to the point we’re at invites all types of white noise — Analysis Paralysis, Monday Morning Quarterbacking and The Blame Game.

None of these are productive or advantageous. And all of them shift our focus away from the more crucial task of determining what comes next.

Let’s take a look at a recent example of this disconnect. As Hurricane Harvey ravaged the Texas Gulf Coast — inundating Houston with unfathomable flooding — the major oil refineries in the region shut down. Within days, some gas stations in Dallas were covering their pumps with plastic bags; the holding tanks were dry, and no oil tankers were heading up Interstate 45 to save the day.

A full-fledged gas panic quickly took hold across the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. Drivers rushed to the nearest open gas station, causing long lines and exhausting fuel supplies even further. (Having waited in one of these lines myself, I can only imagine what the Oil Crisis of 1973 must have been like in America.)

And this wasn’t just a Dallas event. Similar scenes could be found across the Lone Star State — in Austin, San Antonio, and even Lubbock.

As the panic hit a fever pitch, oil and gas industry experts took to the airwaves to assure Texans that there was no fuel shortage after all. A chorus of angry voices soon followed, with many of those voices blaming drivers for causing the entire situation by gassing up in droves.

They may have been right. But that’s beside the point.

You see, who we decide to collar with the blame — anxious drivers, price-sensitive gas station owners or the storm itself — is irrelevant. Regardless of the cause, the panic happened. So, it’s too late to go back and prevent it.

In other words, the train has already left the station.

So, what can we do? We can focus on what comes next.

In the case of the Texas Gas Panic, this might mean driving conscientiously, planning out short-term travel in terms of fuel demand and being willing to drive further and pay more in order to refuel. These actions can lessen the burden on the fuel industry while gas stations work to get supply levels back to normal.

In other situations, such as workplace setbacks, detailing what comes next could take a different form — trying a new strategy, being more amenable to change, or getting better at collaborating with others more.

The possibilities are endless. But one thing remains the same.

What happens next provides the biggest impact.

What comes next can change the world for the better. It can help cement our legacy. And it provides us the opportunity to innovate, learn and grow.

So, stop quibbling over how we got here. Where we’re going is far more important.

Overcoming Old

“I’m too old for this.”

That line is a hallmark of the 1987 blockbuster Lethal Weapon. In the movie, established Los Angeles Police Sergeant Roger Murtaugh finds himself partnered up with “loose cannon” Martin Riggs. Anytime Riggs’ reckless actions put the two of them in danger, Murtaugh blurts out those iconic five words (plus an expletive).

There are certainly many moments when this line finds its way into my life. Most recently, it popped into my head as I was walking across a college campus on a sizzling late summer evening.

To my left and right were undergraduate students a decade younger than me — guys in shorts and flip-flops and girls who could best be described as “scantily clad.” (As a classmate would later quip, “It seems like the price of fabric’s gone up since we were in school. Cause no one’s sporting it.”)

In the midst of it all, there I was — dressed in business attire and feeling very out of place.

It was an eerie feeling — one I’m sure anyone might feel on their first day of grad school. For despite our efforts to break down the barriers that come between us, age is still the Great Differentiator in our society. And feeling old is kind of like wearing a Scarlet Letter.

***

Why are age divisions a hallmark of our society? Because we were raised on them.

Literally.

All through grade school, we socialized and learned with peers who were our age. As we steamed past adolescence, our age provided us access to the driver’s seat, the voter’s booth and the bar. And as young adults, we quickly learned how age (masquerading as “experience”) plays a critical role in climbing the corporate ladder.

None of this is an accident. Our system of age-based division provides us structure. It presents us with goals. And it even rewards us for merit.

Still, in certain instances, it can make us stick out like a sore thumb.

Yes, our rigid age structure self-segregates our society. It limits our tolerance of cross-generational activities. And it makes us feel self-conscious when we’re “not in our lane.”

Simply put, it makes getting old no fun at all.

***

Now, I’m generally not one to rail against the cruelty of aging.

I don’t pine for days gone by, when life was more innocent and fun. I’ve fully embraced the changes that come with maturity and experience — changes both in abilities and responsibilities. My awareness of the latter has allowed me to progress through young adulthood gracefully. Perhaps too gracefully.

I’m not kidding. I jokingly refer to myself as a “42-Year-Old at Heart.” And my favorite song is Garth Brooks’ Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old, which I listen to every year on my birthday.

So, no. Aging generally doesn’t bother me.

Yet, when the time and place is just right, my John Wayne façade crumbles. And there I am —  sporting a button-up shirt and slacks, yet feeling as naked as Adam after he was banished from Eden.

Yes, it seems regardless of our disposition, getting old will eventually get to us.

***

So, what can we do to overcome this predicament? What can we do to stem the shame, self-loathing and decreased confidence that comes with being long in the tooth?

We can start by reminding ourselves that we belong. That we have a right to go about our business, pursue our dreams and live our lives, regardless of the crowd we might encounter along the way.

And if we still find ourselves in moments of doubt, we can remind ourselves that we have nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, the knowledge and experience we accrued should be celebrated. It lets us live a more enlightened life and have a bigger impact. And it lets us accomplish more while erring less.

You see, overcoming old is a power we all possess. We don’t need a journey to the fountain of youth or a Botox injection. We just need the mental fortitude to break with our age-obsessed society. The wherewithal to change the narrative from a glass half-empty to a glass half-full.

That’s something we should never be too old for.

Analyst or Innovator?

When I was growing up, I loved baseball. I loved playing it. I loved watching it. But most of all, I loved checking out baseball statistics.

Even though I was no math whiz, my young mind recognized that those numbers I saw in the newspaper box scores were actually a barometer. A player who batted to a .330 average with 30 Home Runs and 100 Runs Batted In would be someone I’d want to see starting for my favorite team. One who batted .210 with 5 homers and 25 RBI would not.

Whenever I saw those guys with poor statistics in a box score, I responded with bemusement. Why would a team run a player out there who hadn’t proven he could hit?

Of course, I failed to consider the ancillary reasons for those low numbers. Maybe the player was known for his outstanding defense. Maybe he was anxious because his wife was due any day with their first child. Maybe he was suffering from colitis but trying to tough it out anyway.

These scenarios wouldn’t erase goose eggs in a box score. But they would put them into context.

In particular, they had the power to integrate the human element into an industry based on numerical benchmarks. And given baseball’s legacy of pageantry and tradition, this element was sorely needed.

***

Sadly, that human element is harder to find these days.

It’s long gone from baseball. Statisticians are now an integral part of the sport’s brain trust, and players are judged on obscure metrics like WAR, Exit Velocity, Launch Angle and Spin Rate. (Sometimes, when I tune in to a baseball broadcast, I feel like I’m watching cyborgs.)

But it’s disappeared from many other industries as well. Big data is in vogue and seemingly every decision out there comes from cold, hard numbers. A whole new class of employees spend their days looking at analytics and reporting to their bosses solely on those very same numbers. They might not know it, but these analysts are now the key cogs that define their employers’ strategies.

This all seems well and good on the surface. More young adults can now have access to corporate jobs that actually impact their employers’ strategies. And companies don’t have to gamble with profitability each time they change things up; the cold, hard data is within arm’s reach.

But dig a little deeper, and you’ll find the quandary.

***

We were never meant to take the human element out of the equation. Anyone who’s watched Star Trek knows that instinct and emotion are just as critical as logic in completing our mission.

On a high level, our love affair with data-based decision making excludes us from any growth opportunities that require breaking from the norm, or bending the rules. It sacrifices our independence of thought in favor of hard numbers, thereby compromising our integrity.

But on a more basic level, our all-in data approach has created a new class of professionals. A class that is as stuck in the mud as Joe Pesci was in My Cousin Vinny.

You see, it’s relatively easy to analyze data that’s already there. Assuming one has a certain level of specialization, it’s even a secure area to work in.

But this type of occupation doesn’t provide a great opportunity for growth. There’s no need to go beyond the numbers. After all, no one’s looking for us to do that.

***

We were meant for something greater. We weren’t meant to be analysts. We were meant to be innovators.

And while the world at large seems to be pulling in the other direction, we don’t have to follow suit.

We have more to contribute than the digits on our spreadsheets and the colored arrows on our charts. There are untold stories behind those trends and totals. Stories that tie the often-unpredictable course of human psychology to the concrete data we cultivate like corn on a Nebraska field.

We must tell those stories to tie everything together. We must tell these stories to forge a new way forward for a society that has doubled down on a solitary variable. We must tell these stories to lead.

This process might seem uncomfortable. Unsafe even.

That’s OK. Innovators never take the well-worn path.

But regardless of our apprehension, we owe it to ourselves to explore our true potential. We owe it to humanity to take that leap. We owe it to our future to make the right choice.

Analyst or innovator?

The answer should be clear.

All or Some?

Go for it all.

Think big.

Shoot for the stars.

We’ve all heard some version of these sayings throughout our lives.

Our society embellishes dreamers who become doers. It’s why we bestow fame, notoriety and power on our biggest achievers.

This is the reason we recognize Marissa Mayer, but not the engineers who have helped her innovate at both Google and Yahoo. (Unless one of them spews out  sexist comments in a viral memo, that is.) It’s we recognize Derek Jeter, but not Mike Hessman. (Hessman is the all-time home run leader in minor league baseball.)

The message is clear. We must be somebody to be viewed as successful. Anything less means we’re irrelevant.

So, we all strive for fame, fortune and notoriety. We set our sights on titles such as CEO or VIP. We dream of “making it,” simply for the power and prestige that destination provides.

But we fail to consider is what life at the top is actually like.

You see, power is intoxicating. This is why history is filled with examples of both its use and misuse.

It’s quite something to have the ability to control both our own destiny and that of others. But this ability comes with significant side effects.

When we take the reins and ride into the spotlight, we sacrifice our anonymity. Our actions are heavily scrutinized. Our privacy is compromised. And our decisions leave a trail.

Whether we become the President of the United States or a musician with a bigtime recording deal, a basketball star or a chief executive, there is no more hiding from the world after we hit the bigtime. There is no way to turn off the attention our notoriety provides.

For try as we might to get away, there’s always someone there to keep us honest — whether it be a journalist on a beat, a paparazzi photographer or an astute social media user.

That scrutiny can be far-reaching. It can even extend to our families and even impact the way we live our lives.

This is the cost of power, fortune and fame. It’s a cost we often fail to consider until we’ve made it big. And by then it’s too late. The mansion with the pool might be nice, but having to sneak out the back entrance to run to the grocery store sure ain’t.

Is this really what we want? Not a chance.

And it brings us to the crux of our paradox:

We don’t actually want it all. We just want some of it.

Sure, we want the glory and the adulation. But we also crave the anonymity that allows us to reset our batteries and spend cherished time with our loved ones in peace.

This setup is perfect for the middleman role. For the undersecretary. For the vice president.

But those roles are harder and harder to come by these days, and many of the ones that remain are getting replaced by machines.

So, with no ready-made outlet to turn to, what should we do to satiate our ambition yet save our sanity?

We should look before we leap.

We should do our due diligence. We should consider the tradeoffs of the spotlight long before we shoot for it.

And critically, we should ask ourselves the following:

Is pursuing our dreams worth sacrificing life as we know it?

If the answer to this question is yes, we can proceed with eyes wide open. We can round the bend prepared for the cage-rattling hit that awaits on the other end. The world-rocker that will send us into a new reality that there’s no turning back from.

If the answer is no, we can stop chasing a dream that we find undesirable. We can instead strive to make the life we know, love and are comfortable with the best it can possibly be.

Now, neither of these answers are wrong. But only one will be right for us.

All or some? The choice is ours.