The Weight of One Contented Hour
I was thinking this morning about people who pack arenas with motivational speeches and inspirational summits.
They have names like Tony Robbins, Gary Vaynerchuk and Gabby Bernstein. People pay thousands, and attend in thousands to hear the tools and techniques that will change their lives, increase their wealth or offer some kind of enlightenment. They flock to these events because they want to stop the hunger or the hurt, or because they want the version of success that has been fed to them since they were old enough to take the spoon.
There's always a cure. Always a fix. Always a thing that's just out of reach, but maybe, just maybe, it might be accessible at the next price point.
And all the information given at these events is soaked up and spoken of as the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me branding God's.
And then that truth, which came from one mouth, is taken outside of the arena, built into thousands of businesses, and used as a measuring stick for even more thousands.
In no time at all, we have entire cultures who eat, sleep and breathe that same branded truth, and we are given the choice of keeping up or missing out, because no middle ground ever exists in these belief systems.
Meanwhile, over on Patreon, I have a community of 17 people. And I just think that it's the most incredible thing. I have 17 people who believe in me. 17 people who support my voice. 17 people who choose me. I mean really, how amazing is that?
I've never belonged to such an intentional community before. Where there is connection without overwhelm. Where nobody is claiming to know best. Where each lived experience is much more likely to resemble a journey filled with human error and not any kind of supremacy.
I'm not successful like them, I'm successful like me.
If you are someone who likes glossy marketing, indisputable facts, funnels, loud voices on big stages, definitive lists of how to achieve everything you're currently lacking, step by step plans on how to get "there"... then my work definitely isn't for you.
If you are someone who likes the way that worlds merge when the morning light hits the depth of the dream, the way the right song can catch like a memory in the back of the throat, the fluidity of this life and this living, the way that going to edges of everything can reveal new threads and a whole other fabric, the joy of the solitary moment that you can keep and claim as yours alone.... then my work might be for you.
It's a beautiful thing to know who you are, and who you aren't. To know that the glorious weight of one contented hour far exceeds the emptiness of the life you used to chase. To be able to take off what is no longer needed and walk away from what never worked.