There are many days (and nights) where I don’t feel up to the task.
Over the last several years I have genuinely designed life on my terms.
I couldn’t imagine a job that would fit my unique mix of passion, skills and values — so I started a business that could draw them all together.
I wasn’t content with the number of people I knew who couldn’t find a spiritual community that fit who they were — so we started a church for misfits.
I’ve self-published books. I’ve made the podcasts I would listen to. I’ve tried to follow the strands of curiosity that grab me.
I don’t want to be a Dad who kisses my kids goodbye in the morning and then disappears until I tuck them into bed at night. So I’ve learned how to live and work in a more integrated way. I’m baby-wearing at my desk right now. Most days, I have lunch with my family, then read my kids a book before I return to work. It’s true that the boundaries between work and ‘life’ can become blurry like this. But, all of it — every nappy changed, every grazed knee bandaged, every coffee with my wife, every speaking gig, or pitch to a client, or podcast interview — is this not all the work of my life?
Almost every day, I try to acknowledge how grateful I am for this existence. I am privileged on so many levels. I absolutely love the work that I do, the rhythms of our family, the community we get to co-create, the flexibility of being my own boss.
But, always in the mix of this, there is doubt. There are questions. Moments where I don’t feel up to the task. Fear and anxiety.
What am I doing running a business? Do I have any clue how to do that? Do I actually have anything worth selling? Does it matter that most of the business advice out there makes me want to vomit? Will clients keep commissioning me to do this important work - or will they realise I’m just some regular joe, making it up as I go? Am I the best person to be leading a church? Can I actually do both of these things well? Should I have pushed harder into my writing? Should I have gone into teaching? Are my current dreams to produce films too unrealistic? Is my instagram too poorly curated? Should I even use social media? Am I hustling enough? Too much? What am I teaching my kids about the ‘real world’? Though I’m with them often, do they know how much my mind wanders? Should I just get a cushy job where I don’t have to deal with so much existential angst or small business stress? But where? What would I even do, if not this?
When I carry it all in my head, it can feel tangled and confusing and heavy at times. When I write it out in front of me, it helps. I remind myself that the inner dialogue of most people probably looks like some variation of this. Confidence and doubt co-exist. Beauty and confusion intertwine. The path demands patience — and there’s no way around it. Except to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Someone once pointed to the birds of the air, drinking in the free gift of existence and said, ‘tomorrow will worry about itself’.
Today is the only day that you have.
So breathe deeply, and get back to work.