Dispatching Introductions

It’s been a week and a half since I published my first blog post. I have yet to receive invites from the cultural and intellectual giants of our time. All of whom are no doubt clamoring for an opportunity to share their table with me for coffee and conversation. No pop-up salons sipping aged whiskey with the New Rich. The likes of Sam Harris and his peers have not reached out to thank me for my contributions to the advancement of human thought. As of this writing, there is no plan in place for me to help Oprah give away sacks of cash and puppies to a live studio audience (Google “Dane Cook Oprah”). The internet can be slow to shine a light on its gems.

Despite my playful ode to ego above, I do have a genuine desire to use this platform to:

1) obtain knowledge

2) grow and mine wisdom from those who are kind enough to respond with data

3) to explore the world of words. Doing my best to contribute something to the realm of ideas, personal growth, shedding of misconceptions, and overcoming self-imposed limitations on success and progress.

Yeah, I know. Even that sounds lofty regardless of how humble I’m attempting to describe my intentions.

I bring all this up because I don’t want to create anything that isn’t honest. I do not wish to produce anything that has terms and conditions attached to the fine print. I’ve found as I’m lying awake at night pondering what to write about next that I experience a great deal of anxiety surrounding how to explore an idea or topic in a public space. Am I ready for Chuck to read this? What happens if what I write has an effect on some other part of my life? Am I prepared to engage in this or that? Do I have a right to participate in this or that? Those who know me best can attest to how well fortified and guarded the walls to my thoughts and feelings can be (Sorry M, I’m trying. Thanks for being patient).

In order for me to engage in this project with honesty I must be prepared to put myself in a position of discomfort. If I’m going to spend a signification amount of time on a piece, I cannot allow myself to hit ‘publish’ if there is any part of it that was softened, edited, or restricted because I was scared or uncomfortable to put the words on the page. My fears and anxieties are mine, and thus mine to battle. Some will more than likely show up here, in this space. Some will not. Those little devils that stay hidden in the shadows are merely steroid shots to the ass of self-imposed limitations on success and progress.

I want to hit publish. Hitting publish for me is freedom. It is knowing that I have created a thing for which I have no reservation. No fears. I crave freedom. I want nothing more than fear to be a catalysis for success and triumph, not an obstacle or limiting circumstance. I am here to manage fear.

All of this is my way of finalizing the thought process for this project in my head. In order for me to achieve what I want I will need to challenge fear and discomfort. In order to challenge fear and discomfort I will need to dig deep within myself to find the courage to not simply know, but to accept that in order to achieve goals and to exist with integrity and honesty, action cannot succumb to fear and discomfort. I am no longer satisfied sidelining what I want to do. I wrote this post specifically so I couldn’t keep writing it. There is no turning back without an admittance of cowardice I do not wish to carry on my shoulders. I shall close with a beautiful quote that has always stuck with me from Anton LaVey: ” The roses in the garden east of Eden will have thorns. Whatever the blossom, whatever the harvest, the future belongs to us.” Breath. It’s going to be OK. I’m going to hit publish now.