Tag: path

Go Your Own Way

If you could distill the way you live your life into a single catchphrase, what would it be?

My catchphrase would channel my inner Fleetwood Mac, in four simple words.

Go Your Own Way.

I don’t choose those four words because I have illusions of grandeur. I don’t fancy myself a rebel or a rock star.

No. I choose them because of what they represent, on a fundamental level.

Namely, the ability to be an individual. To zig where others might zag. To forge my own destiny.

I have embraced this mantra for years. The path less chosen has consistently been mine.

When my high school classmates went off to prestigious universities in the Northeast, I moved to Miami for college. Palm trees and sunshine aside, my classmates largely looked down on my choice. But I wasn’t one to follow in their footsteps. So, I went my own way.

In college, I didn’t take on “safe” vocational studies. Instead of studying finance, law or medicine, I got a degree in Communication. Sure, the job market was larger for financial analysts, lawyers and doctors. But I didn’t see myself in those fields. (I am a writer, after all.) So, I went my own way.

After college, I sought out my first full-time job as a TV news producer. But I didn’t find it in Miami, or up north. I found it in a city I hardly knew anything about — Midland, Texas. So, I moved halfway across the country for a position with a salary similar to that of the cashiers at the local Walmart. Not many people — even in the media — would go such a distance for an anonymous off-camera position. But I did. I went my own way.

After three years in the news, I was burned out. So, I left my job without a new one lined up and moved 300 miles east to Dallas — another city where I only knew a few people. Starting over is daunting. Doing so willfully, with no safety net, is borderline ridiculous. Yet, I knew in my soul that this was the best path for me to take. I went my own way.

It would be easy to say I was being bold by making these against-the-grain decisions. But that would not be accurate. Truth is, I am intensely introverted, and about the furthest thing from impulsive.

Because of my nature, the choices I made felt excruciating. Opening myself up to change, risk and doubt was not something I took on gleefully.

Yes, the moves I made came after much soul-searching and quiet deliberation. They built upon the realization that what is difficult is often what is necessary. That the road most traveled might not be the best path for me.

I share this because there is a powerful lesson we can all take away from my experience.

That lesson? That following our heart and soul might mean straying from the pack. That being true to ourselves doesn’t always mean following the well-worn path.

Indeed, it’s often when we branch out that we find ourselves.

What we’re made of. And what we can make happen.

So, when you’re considering your next move, don’t be afraid to blaze your own trail.

Go your own way.

Rewind and Fast Forward

How did we get here?

It’s a common question these days.

Whether the question comes from a place of anguish, exasperation or curiosity, it’s omnipresent.

There’s good reason for us to delve into this root cause analysis. The past is already written. It’s printed in the pages of books or encoded in our memory banks.

Our recollections of what came before are often vivid. And our interpretation of those events can draw a line to the present.

Never mind that our accounts of the past can be skewed by bias. That history is all too often written by the victors. That memories can fade over time, or enter our cognition already tarnished by an abundance of stress or a lack of perspective.

The fundamental point remains the same.

We draw upon what’s known to help figure out what’s uncertain. We take the solid inscriptions of our past to reconcile the shaky ground of our present.

This method has served us well for generations. After all, the old adage goes, Those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it.

Yet, the habit of rewinding to move ahead is less relevant than ever today.

Why? We have more power over our story trajectory these days. No longer are we akin to cattle, being paraded down the well-worn trails our ancestors have left.

Today, we are not bounded by limits in technology, communication and innovation. We are largely free to forge a new path that can upend the way society works.

This provides great opportunity. But also, a great challenge.

For while these changes are of our volition, the side effects can make us queasy.

There is no recipe book we can turn to when the ground gets shaky. No prescription to ease the volatility.

The straight-line relationship we’ve inferred between past and present has shifted into an accelerating curve. We’re writing the book in real-time now.

So what recourse do we have? How can we keep our narrative from taking an unintended turn?

It starts by asking a new question.

Where do we go from here?

Starting with this question moves us from reaction to action. It can allow us to move forward with intention, unencumbered by the weight of the past.

It can help us find meaning, even in the face of present-day unease. It can help us write our story on our own terms.

And the best part? This method can work for just about everyone.

No matter which factors have led us to this point, there is a beneficial way forward.

Yes, for some of us, those past actions themselves lead to forward-facing consequences. If we’ve committed a crime, we must do the time. We cede control of our narrative to pay our debt to society.

But this is an edge case. A grave one, but an edge case nonetheless.

For the most part, we have the power to fast forward. To consider what comes next in order to right our wrongs, build off our achievements and iterate toward a brighter future.

We seldom use this power. And when we do, it’s all too often secondary to our root cause analysis.

It’s time to change that.

Even in an ambiguous world, the direction we head is still largely in our control.

But it starts by asking the right questions.

Let’s do so.