We have returned from our lovely, lazy vacation at the beach. I read three and a half books, floated lazily in an inner tube in the lake, went for long walks, picked wild raspberries, laughed a lot, watched lots of movies, ate food my husband barbecued, and enjoyed my family.
Yesterday was a bit of a strange day though. We got up early, rushed to pack up our things & clean the cabin we’d rented from a friend, and made it back into the city for two big things. Marcel had a job interview to attend, and I wanted to be at the hospital when my mom came out of the operating room where the surgeons were attempting to remove the cancer that has attached itself to the outside of her intestines.
It felt like an odd way to return from vacation. As many of you know, there have been a few stressors on my mind lately, including my mom’s cancer and our family finances (including the fact that my husband has been under-employed in recent years). To be reminded of both of these big things the moment one returns feels jarring. At the same time, though, there is some hopefulness in both.
The surgeon is hopeful about the cancer, and Marcel is hopeful about the job. There are still lots of uncertainties, and the knot in my stomach hasn’t gone away, but I’m trying to be hopeful.
Yesterday, as I was sitting in my mom’s hospital room (which is, incidentally, just down the hall from where my son Matthew died eleven years ago), I reflected on something I’d heard recently about healing.
Studies have shown that those people who have a view of a tree during their recovery heal faster than those who don’t.
As I move through the stressors in my life, I am grateful that, from time to time, I have the opportunity to step into nature and stare at a tree. We couldn’t afford much of a vacation this summer, but at least we got to spend a few days wandering through the bush and appreciating the trees, and sitting at the beach and marvelling at the beauty of the water splashing on the shore.
These things give me strength to stand tall when life feels overwhelming.
What about you? Are you finding ways of letting nature heal you?
I first bonded with Tina Francis several months ago on Facebook when we discovered that there were some similarities to the paths we are on. As soon as I started reading Tina’s writing, I was hooked. In February, Tina turned 29 and wrote this manifesto about it. I’m happy to introduce you to her.
My name is Tina. Loved ones call me: Teen.
I’m a photographer, writer (feel nervous admitting that) and a creative. I’ve worked as a TV Producer, Radio Host and Creative Director. Confession: Some girls dream about Manolo Blahniks or their next Hermes bag. Not me. I dream of freshly baked bread, perfectly barbecued meat & steaming bowls of Pho.
My ultimate goal in life is to remain authentic, untainted, wide-eyed, raw, real, trusting and giving. I was born and raised in Dubai and currently live in the beautiful city of Vancouver, known for some of the best sushi in the world.
Two words that sound familiar and foreign, at once. Like if I were to eat a PB&J sandwich in Bangkok or Guam.
I am 3. I am in Dubai, home from school and begging my mother to let out our yellow-green lovebird out of its cage. I want to see it fly around the room. She succumbs. The bird flies right into the ceiling fan. Thud. I cover my eyes. It’s my fault. To this day, birds make me nervous. It’s like they know …
I am 5. I am in India, my grandfather slices open a guava, sprinkles it with paprika and salt and offers me a piece. I remember the cool uneven tiles of the veranda under my feet as I chomp on the fruit. He is telling me stories about World War II and typewriters. He has the longest legs and the most animated eyes I’ve ever seen.
I am 6. It’s New Year’s Eve. My cheeks are grapefruit pink and my hair is moist from running around with my cousins. I hear music. I weave through the forest of adult legs until I find a clearing. Half-full glasses raised around the room. Everyone is swaying and mumbling along to Auld Lang Syne, or as I used to sing, “All my Enzymes, my dear. All my Enzymes …”
I am 8. I am standing in a lineup outside a confessional, waiting to take my ‘First Confession’. Kids around me are discussing what they are going to confess. Something about not doing their homework and pushing their little brother. My confession is big. Really big. I’m not even sure if it’s my sin. This is going to take longer than 5 minutes. Will Father Daniel tell my parents? My heart is racing. My stomach hurts. I no longer feel like a child.
I am 10. I am visiting my aunt who is a missionary nun in a little fishing community in South India. I’m swatting mosquitoes as we eat kanji (rice porridge) for dinner. I hate the food but I love the sound of the Indian Ocean. We wake up at dawn, pray and sing hymns for half an hour. We walk out onto the beach to see the fishermen push their boats out into the water and the silhouttes of their wives and children waving goodbye against the backdrop of a jaw-dropping sunrise. I want to be a nun. I feel safe and happy here.
I am 13. I am angry all the time and I don’t know why. Angst. I worship my Math teacher. He listens. He gets me. My mother asks me if I have a crush on him. I nearly punch a hole in the wall.
I am 14. I am on a school bus, singing Alanis Morissette’s Ironic in 3-part harmony at the top of my lungs with the girls from my choir. I really feel like we can change the world.
I am 15. I have the haircut from hell. The lady cutting my hair was distracted and chopped off 12 inches. I start crying. She scolds me, tells me she gave me a Princess Diana haircut. “Except I’m short, fat and have a unibrow!” I want to yell. I try out for the lead in the school’s annual production. “You don’t look the part … but you sound great!” they say.
I am 16. I write my first song with my best friend. It’s really good. I get braces. Eating hurts my jaw, so I get skinny. Boys suddenly pay attention to me. I get the lead role in the play.
I am 17. I leave Dubai for Vancouver. My dad drops me off at university. I’m scared out of my mind but I put on a brave front. I’m living with white people.They all look the same…goshdarnit!
I am 21. I am in Ontario, selling books door-to-door for a summer job. I’m armed with a map, a backpack and encyclopedias. I come face-to-face with brokenness and humanity in lower-middle class families trying to live “the dream.” Leaves me raw. Single mothers working two jobs, neglected seniors, emotionally abusive parents, kids that crave validation, etc. 16 hours a day. 10 weeks. 2500 doors. 40 sales. You do the math. I’m defeated. I look at my dad differently. He is a salesman. A darn good one.
I am 22. I record a 14-song album in Dubai. Some of the songs play on the radio. My best friend and I have a falling out. She’s my oldest friend. The one who knew me before I needed a bra. *That* friend. I stop singing. It hurts too much. I’ve lost my voice. Every time I open my mouth to sing, I cry. I stop playing guitar. I study Television Broadcasting. I find my church. I’m finally home.
I am 23. I move back to Dubai and work in Radio and TV. I love my boss. He trusts me and gives me free creative reign. Turns out I’m good at what I do. I am living with my dad. He is really lonely. I don’t know how to talk to him. So we cook together. We eat together. But mostly in silence.
I am 24. I’m madly in love. First Love. He has a baritone voice that makes me weak in the knees. Toxic-relationship, ergo Toxic-Tina. I stop writing.
I am 25. It’s over … Tsunami tears. I move to Lethbridge, Alberta for work. Tears. Pray. Tears. Pray. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I am 26. I am in Vancouver. I’ve missed the majestic mountains, the cleansing rain, my sister, the smell of home and my family at church. I make an unexpected friend: My mother. I cut off 10 inches of my hair. This time by choice. Tears of joy. I’m alive. I’m still here.
I am 27. I buy my parents’ old camera. Everything looks different now. I have new eyes. The world is so beautiful, it makes my heart ache and bloom at the same time. I am surrounded by unrelenting, untiring beauty. I feel myself thaw. I am dreaming again.
I am 28. I am singing again. My voice is soft and unfamiliar at first. But slowly, it gets stronger, powerful and sometimes even fearless. I meet an incredible circle of women that challenge every lie I have ever believed. They teach me to “never dim my light.” They assure me I don’t have to worry about being ”too much” or “not enough.” I feel whole for the first time in years.
I am 28 and 10 months. I am standing in a church watching my baby sister say, “I do.” My ally. My closest friend. My constant. I grieve for days. I start to define my new normal. Exhale. I’m okay. We’re okay.
I am 29 today.
It feels like a well-earned gift.
I am evidence of a girl, nay a woman, willing to try again, to show up for life, to make a fool of myself, to feel deeply, to love hard, to cry hard, to be authentic, to be transparent, to be vulnerable, to flail about while I get my bearings, to admit that I don’t have all the answers, to laugh at myself, to ask for help, to fail and get up again … and again … and again.
I’m not afraid because I know Whom I belong to.
I’m done being the supporting actor in my own life.
I’m ready.
Love you more than buttercream icing on birthday cake,
I’ll be away from the computer this week, hanging out at the beach with my family, enjoying lots of cold beverages, and reading a few good books. While I’m away, I have a few treats for you, including a couple of guest posts.
To start with, I’m sharing one of the lessons from A Path for Wanderers & Edge-walkers. Some of my favourite writing recently has been from that e-course, so I thought I’d share a bit of it with you. To find out more and to sign up for weekly emails that will inspire the wanderer in you, go here.
A Path for Wanderers & Edge-walkers – Lesson 8
Following the Thread – A Wanderer’s Journey
Recently I have found myself in conversation with several young people who are beginning the journey into the career stages of their lives. Some have completed university and others are contemplating what course of study they should take. All are wondering “what should I do with my life now?”
These are big, heavy questions, and I have seen the weight of them on more than one face. The people I have spoken with are bright, passionate people who are committed to serving the world with their gifts. They take these decisions very seriously because they want to be true to themselves, true to the Source of their gifts and passions, and true to their communities and the world in which they live. They feel the weight of responsibility, growing up in a world in which poor choices, over-consumption, climate change, conflict, poverty, and so many other challenges are running rampant and threatening to destroy the world we know.
In two recent conversations, with two young women in their early twenties, I have said the same thing when asked for advice. “Hold it all lightly,” I’ve said, when I’ve seen the weight of worry on their faces. “Don’t take tomorrow’s decision as the be-all and end-all of your life. Yes, each decision will help shape your life, and they are important, but each decision does not CONTAIN your life or restrict it in any way.”
“Just follow the thread,” I continue. “Your passions are part of you for a reason, so follow them. If you love spending time in the woods, then spend time in the woods and see where the trees have to teach you. If you love being with children, then be with children and see what you can learn from them. If you love to write, then don’t ever stop writing. Don’t take it too seriously and don’t put too much pressure on yourself to know your path already. Your path will be made clear as you follow it.”
It really is okay to adopt a wanderer’s posture as you make your way through life. You don’t have to have a clear vision of where you will be next year, or the year after that, or ten years into the future.
Your guidance counselor in high school might have told you that you needed to form a goal and pursue it, and your parents might have reinforced that idea, but, though they had your best interests at heart, their advice might not have been the best thing for you to follow. Certainly, there are those people who do well with a single clearly lit path, and I am grateful for those people, for example, who decided early on to become the best doctor or kindergarten teacher or scientist they could be, but you are a wanderer, and wanderers do not do well with clear, straight paths.
Recently I came across some interesting research that suggests that asking questions about your future is of more value than setting goals. Participants in the study were asked to write some version of either “I will complete this task” or “Will I complete this task?” before they were given a series of puzzles to solve. The people who asked a question first instead of setting a goal were consistently more successful in completing the task.
That research was a revelation to me. “You mean it’s OKAY to walk through life asking lots of questions and following dimly lit paths instead of having a clear direction of where I should be going? You mean this can help me SUCCEED?”
Yes, it’s okay, and for wanderers like you and I, it may very well be the ONLY way to live. We are easily distracted by sparkly things. We take the road less traveled. We often find ourselves off the beaten trail. We like to circle the edge and explore the shadowy crevices in the rocks.
The beauty of this life is that we discover things that those on the well-traveled trail never get to experience.
You don’t have to know the future, you just have to follow the thread.
In the myth of Ariadne, Theseus arrives at the palace to fight the mighty Minotaur. It’s the hero’s journey – to pass through the dark and meandering labyrinth to get to the centre where one must battle one’s inner demons in order to emerge successfully into the life one is meant to follow.
To help him reach the centre and emerge successfully, princess Ariadne gives Theseus a ball of thread and tells him to unwind it as he enters the labyrinth and then to follow it back out. He follows her instructions and emerges successfully.
Like Theseus, there will be many times in your life when you will feel like you are lost in a dark and puzzling labyrinth, about to fight demons you can’t even see. At those times, it will be especially important to hang onto the thread of who you are, what you are passionate about, what brings you joy, what you value, where you find love, and what you have to offer the world. That thread will help you reach the centre, will give you security as you fight the Minotaur, and then will help guide you out again to a place where the light will appear once again.
Remember this – it’s just a thread. It can easily be broken if you hold on too tightly or tug it too hard. When, like the young women I spoke with, we take ourselves and our decisions too seriously, it’s like tugging on that thread and expecting too much from it. It’s not a lifeline that will pull you to safety – it’s a thread that you have to hold lightly in your hand as you make your way through life. Sometimes it will feel like it has disappeared, and other times it will feel like it’s slicing its way into your hand when you’re running too fast.
You don’t have to see your way clear to the end of the labyrinth – you just have to follow the thread.
(Note: For an interesting exploration about how the myth of Ariadne represents a woman’s journey into the divine womb, and how the destruction of the Minotaur represents the destruction of patriarchy, read The Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd.)
Tips on following the thread:
Keep a question journal. For this tip, I have to credit my 9 year old daughter Maddy, who recently named her journal “A lifetime of questions”. “I’m going to write all the questions that pop into my head,” she said, “and leave a blank in case I find the answer.” I think it’s a brilliant idea.
Hold decisions lightly. Each time you start a new job or go on a journey, tell yourself “this is just one step in my journey through the labyrinth. It’s not the WHOLE journey.”
Explore your passions. If you’ve always been fascinated by art, it may be time to sign up for a class. If you love the water, perhaps it’s time to rent a kayak. If you’re curious about architecture, check with your local university to see if you can audit a class to explore your interest.
Rely on other people. Like Theseus, making his way through the labyrinth, you need other people who will offer you a ball of thread and will hold the other end of it for you. Don’t go into the dark alone. Find support.
Change your mind. Sometimes you realize, after you’ve started a new job or new course of study, that it is actually taking you further away from your thread. It’s okay to change your mind and return to the source. It’s okay to be wrong sometimes. There is something to be learned from each decision you make, even the bad ones, so don’t carry regrets with you into the next place you go. Just carry on and get back to that thread.
* * * * *
Interview with Barbara Winter
Last year, when I quit my job to begin my self-employment journey, Barbara Winter was one of the first people who said “Good for you! You’ll do great!” Since then, she has consistently been one of my favourite cheerleaders, encouraging me along this path. Barbara is the author of Making a Living without a Job, an essential tool for anyone considering entrepreneurship as a way of living. She blogs at Buon Viaggio.
1. I know that you are a lifelong wanderer. Tell us how wandering makes your heart sing.
I’m pretty sure I was born with wanderlust. My father had a chronic case of it and several of his sisters were wanderers—and role models for me. Ironically, I grew up in a town where wandering was considered to be a suspicious activity engaged in by those who were malcontent.
Fortunately, I paid no attention and have always made room in my life for wandering in both large and small ways. As I learned more about the creative process, I also became convinced that a regular change of scenery was favored by the Muse.
As travel writer Bill Bryson says, “Is there anything more wonderful (other than a chocolate cream pie) than waking up in a new place that you’ve always wanted to visit?”
2. What are some of the ways that wandering has been incorporated into your lifestyle?
My longing to wander went unfulfilled for several years of my life. It wasn’t until I realized that I could create a business that paid me to travel that I really began to get the hang of it.
I don’t think wandering should be limited, however, to long explorations. Every so often, I get in my car and practice what I call Getting Lost on Purpose. Sometimes that just means exploring a part of my nearby world that I’ve never investigated and sometimes I head out of town with no destination in mind and see what catches my fancy.
I also have a strong nesting instinct and after my daughter and I moved to Minneapolis, I wrote in a journal, “We put down roots and sprouted wings.” Roots and Wings became a theme for my life—and a chapter in my book Making a Living Without a Job.
All four of my siblings share the wanderer gene so we sometimes plan family reunions in exotic or interesting parts of the world. My sister Nancy is an archaeologist who lived in Athens for many years and then in Rome for the past decade. She’s been a wonderful addition to our family travels because of her experience—and language skills
Our first trip together was a bit rocky, but having these shared adventures has had a positive impact on our relationships.
One of the highlights of my wandering was the sabbatical I took several years ago. I spent about three months of that time traveling alone in Europe with absolutely no itinerary. I would literally get up in the morning and ask myself, “Where do you want to go today?” and then go there. Since most of my previous wanderings were more scheduled, this was heady stuff.
3. What tips would you have for people who want to use the strengths of their wandering hearts as part of their businesses or vocation?
The options for incorporating wandering into a business grow all the time. Not that long ago, people who had the urge to travel usually ended up in travel related businesses, but today our enterprises can be just about anything with a travel component added on.
It’s never been easier to create a portable business. Technology makes it possible to do so many things without being in a fixed location. I wrote an essay about that a few years ago and said we’re the first people in the history of the world for whom geography is not an obstacle in creating a business. I said business in the future is going to look very different. Our customers and clients will be people who share our consciousness, not our postal code.
Another bonus is that an entrepreneur can control the amount of traveling and the places traveled to. I often encounter road weary corporate folks who are being sent hither and yon and not having much fun doing so since their itinerary seems limited to Airport to Hotel to Meeting to Airport. Smart entrepreneurs neither overbook nor underbook themselves which strikes me as a much healthier way to go.
Then there’s this delightful extra: as an entrepreneur, I get a special thrill from creating trips that incorporate business and therefore are tax deductible.
4. Any other advice for wanderers?
Get creative about making it happen. So many people still think they have to scrimp and save for years in order to have One Trip of a Lifetime. Years ago, when I still hadn’t figured it out, I read a line in a book that I memorized and adopted as my potential epitaph:”For her, crossing the ocean was like crossing the street.” That’s how I wanted my life to look.
Another thing that has really enriched my wandering is to create themes. So, for instance, one year my project was to see all the Monet paintings I could see with my own two eyes. Another year I explored gardens; then my theme was London bookshops. I also made a project out of sampling and rating creme brulee wherever I went (as a public service).
Weaving personal passions into our wandering, seeking out things that we personally love enriches our lives enormously.
As St. Augustine said all those years ago, “The world is like a book and he who stays home reads only one page.”
* * * * * *
Journal Prompts
The question about my life that I ask most often is…
Some of the things that feel like “threads” (passions, values, etc.) in my life are…
I worry most about decisions when…
The new mantra I want to carry when I make decisions is…
* * * * *
Enjoyed this post? You can get 11 more of these, and a compilation of them in an attractive e-book once they’re all completed, if you sign up for A Path for Wanderers & Edge-walkers.
Some days, you will really, really dislike your children.
Some days, your children will really, really dislike you. There may even be days when they yell that dislike in your face.
Children are sucking vortexes of need. Get used to it.
Almost every day, you will wonder if you are doing everything wrong and totally screwing your kids up.
In between those hard days and moments of doubt, there will be moments of pure delight, and you’ll wonder how you could possibly live without these amazing people in your life.
The straight talk on starting a new business:
It’s hard. Really hard.
There will be lots of days when you wake up in a panic wondering how you’re going to survive financially.
On your days of greatest weakness, you will compare yourself to other people and find yourself seriously lacking.
Just when you think you have it figured out, one of your favourite ideas will flop, and you’ll feel like a failure all over again.
If you can work through the discouragement, you’ll have moments when you’re happier than you’ve ever been, doing the things that make your heart sing.
The straight talk on marriage:
There are no fairy tales. No knights in shining armor. No happy endings. You might as well give up the quest.
You’ll have days when you think “what the hell have I done?” or “where did this all go wrong?” or “why does it feel like we are communicating at completely different frequencies?”
There’s a pretty good chance that some day, maybe even 18 years in, the whole thing will fall apart and you’ll be left trying to pick up the pieces.
You’re going to have to work really, really hard if you value what you’ve built and want to stay together. You might even need outside help and you’ll definitely need some prayer.
Once you’ve done the hard work, and given up the fairy tale, you might just find yourself growing (not falling) into real, blinders-off, sometimes-it-hurts-sometimes-it’s-exquisite kind of love. And it will feel like home.
The straight talk on leadership:
Just like parenting, there will be days when you really, really dislike some of the people you lead.
There will be days when they really, really dislike you. They might even file a complaint or take you to court if the dislike runs deeply enough. This may not have anything to do with your actions, but you’ll still be tempted to take it personally.
It may very well be one of the most stressful roles you’ll undertake.
You’ll often feel lonely because lots of people assume the leader is confident enough that they don’t need any moral support or friendship.
If you find the right support and the right people to lead, though, it could possibly be the most rewarding thing you’ll ever do. If you’re living your calling, then it will have meaning.
The straight talk on marketing:
There are people who will want to offer you a formula for success. Don’t believe them. There are no formulas.
Sometimes you’ll do everything by the book, and still very few people will show up or buy your product.
Some people will say “just put out good content and people will show up”. Not true. (At least not all the time.) Lots of people create amazing products that nobody buys.
A lot of times, it’s just a crap shoot – if the right (ie. influential) people show up and buy your product and then share it with their friends, it may go viral.
At the end of the day, the most important thing is building relationships. Be kind to people, support them, offer them your best work, and slowly but surely the right people will show up. (Or they may not, and you’ll have to start over again, but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed, only that the timing wasn’t right for your product, or it needs some tweaking.)
The straight talk on failure:
You will fail. Get used to it. Sometimes even your biggest, boldest dreams will fail.
You’ll have to work hard to not believe that failing defines you as a failure.
Even the most successful people in the world have faced failure at some point in their lives. They may even be failing right now and you just don’t know it because they’re good at hiding it.
Failure may be your greatest teacher if you’re open to it.
Sometimes failure opens doors to you that you wouldn’t have seen if you’d never tried. Go ahead and fail.
The straight talk on life:
There will be many moments when you feel completely lost and unsure of what path you should be on.
People will tell you to “follow these 10 easy steps to success/self-improvement/spirituality”. Don’t believe them. There are no easy steps.
Nobody’s path will look just like yours. You’ll never find the perfect book, teacher, or life coach who will give you complete clarity, because nobody else knows your life. (But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t learn from other people’s wisdom. You should. Just don’t expect it to be the only answer.)
Living a life of integrity, authenticity, and compassion takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears. It’s still worth it.
If you are true to yourself, true to the people that you love, and true to your God, and if you pursue your passions and share your gifts, your life will have meaning.
The last three weeks have been full of so much… ummm… I hardly know how to describe it… BIGness. FULLness. GOODness. Happiness. Inspiration. Love. Fill-in-the-blanks-with-superlatives.
First there was ALIA, and then there was my annual (26th year!) trek to the Winnipeg Folk Festival with various members of my tribe. Both were amazing places to spend time, where I was surrounded with beautiful words, passionate people, shake-the-world ideas, take-my-breath-away moments of wonder, and so much inspiration I’ll still be writing about it for weeks to come.
I wish you all could have been there.
I feel so very, very blessed to have experienced so much goodness.
These are just a few of the random things that brought me joy in the last few weeks:
1. Sitting alone at the Little Stage on the Prairie, listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard lead the audience in a “Snake Farm” sing-along, while cotton ball clouds drifted by overhead.
3. “Nothing to do but hang out and listen to good music” moments with my family at the Folk Festival.
4. Standing on the roof of a beautiful victorian home with interesting new friends, watching fireworks on Canada Day (even though I was in the U.S, and they called it the Red, White, and Boom festival).
5. Eating a spinach, goat cheese, and balsamic vinegar crepe in the North Market in Columbus.
6. Wandering off the beaten track along the river (in Columbus) and discovering the most amazing skatepark someone had made by hand out of packed mud in the middle of the woods.
7. A brief but inspirational after-dinner conversation with Darcy Winslow that reminded both of us of the importance of personal stories, especially for women in leadership.
These are big, heavy questions, and I have seen the weight of them on more than one face. The people I have spoken with are bright, passionate people who are committed to serving the world with their gifts. They take these decisions very seriously because they want to be true to themselves, true to the Source of their gifts and passions, and true to their communities and the world in which they live. They feel the weight of responsibility, growing up in a world in which poor choices, over-consumption, climate change, conflict, poverty, and so many other challenges are running rampant and threatening to destroy the world we know.
Recently I came across some interesting research that suggests that asking questions about your future is of more value than setting goals. Participants in the study were asked to write some version of either “I will complete this task” or “Will I complete this task?” before they were given a series of puzzles to solve. The people who asked a question first instead of setting a goal were consistently more successful in completing the task.
Remember this – it’s just a thread. It can easily be broken if you hold on too tightly or tug it too hard. When, like the young women I spoke with, we take ourselves and our decisions too seriously, it’s like tugging on that thread and expecting too much from it. It’s not a lifeline that will pull you to safety – it’s a thread that you have to hold lightly in your hand as you make your way through life. Sometimes it will feel like it has disappeared, and other times it will feel like it’s slicing its way into your hand when you’re running too fast.
Last year, when I quit my job to begin my self-employment journey, 
It’s never been easier to create a portable business. Technology makes it possible to do so many things without being in a fixed location. I wrote an essay about that a few years ago and said we’re the first people in the history of the world for whom geography is not an obstacle in creating a business. I said business in the future is going to look very different. Our customers and clients will be people who share our consciousness, not our postal code.
The last three weeks have been full of so much… ummm… I hardly know how to describe it… BIGness. FULLness. GOODness. Happiness. Inspiration. Love. Fill-in-the-blanks-with-superlatives.
