Big shifts don’t seem to start with fanfare. They seem to start like an earthquake occurring under the ocean that isn’t known until the tsunami that it creates hits the nearby land. They seem to feel the same way.

Deep. Uncomfortable. Massive. Without any sign that anything has changed.

They seem to stunt and curve everyday conversations.

“How are you,” becomes a dreaded question with no correct answer. “Weird,” becomes your best answer. Grins and hugs from the friends who get it become your favourite thing, and open-mouthed, fumbling responses from the ones who don’t become expected.

“What are you doing these days,” is the story you make up because trying to get into all of “that” isn’t even something you can verbalize. And “how is your business,” always receives the trite answer of, “Great!” with an awkward silence afterwards.

I write all the time. I read stuff all the time. Famous stuff. Not-so-famous stuff.

I have a lot of story.

Abuse stories.
Family stories.
Recovery stories.
Narrow escape stories.

But my latest story doesn’t have anything to do with all that.

Lately, this question has been tossing over my world: If I were truly being me, what would I create?

Because for the first time, I’m willing to know that in a bigger way.

I’ve nailed the daily life version of that pretty well. And when I am being someone else in little stuff, I catch it pretty quick. It feels heavy, and I feel contracted, and I know enough to know that shit ain’t mine.

But there’s this whole element now of creating my life. And creating a future where this planet we live on can live and thrive. And I’m no longer fooling myself with the story that I have no power and can’t change anything.

I know that what I create changes things. Lives. Moments. Why not know that it also changes planets? And futures?

I’m a creative person. I create stuff all the time. I have this terrible ability to be able to look at someone’s creation online and duplicate it — if not exactly, at least in a very similar way, and it’s this capacity for duplication that’s gotten me here today.

But I’m tired of duplicating. And really aware that what I want to say, and the way I want to say it doesn’t belong to anyone else.

Do I use my voice?
Sure.
I write with it. Speak with it most of the time.
And I know there’s still a lot of “me” in my creations, duplicated or not.

But I look at my role models. The people I look up to. And the ones I really admire are the ones who created their own path. Saw the path everyone else was taking, and created their own.

If I’m honest, I’ve been spending most of my life sussing out everyone else’s path’s to see which one was the smoothest, taking that, and then getting bored.

I’m bored because there’s an empire inside of me waiting to come out. A different reality. And it doesn’t look one way. It doesn’t have a time frame or a definite starting point. But now is definitely the “time”.

And it comes from the awareness to the question of: What’s fun for me? What would I create that would be so enthusiastic for me to promote that I couldn’t help but promote it? If I were creating my 1000 year future – the planet I know is possible — what would I create and what would I choose?

The small questions. And yet, I can’t not ask them. Everything else is too small.

And so I suppose, this is the story of me being done. Bored with being small. Not small as it is for you. Or that guy over there. Or Richard Branson. But small as it is for me.

And this is the thing, isn’t it. What works for me doesn’t work for you and vice versa. This is the beauty of it all. That nothing is the same for any of us. No matter how much we try to duplicate it to look as such.

Questions unlock that place in us that only we know.
I am the only one that can get the awareness of the 1000 year future I know is possible.
And so are you.

And only when we ask those bold questions can we dare to know the stuff that will change everything.

So, the earthquake underneath my waters will keep shifting everything. And I’ll keep being weird. And day by day, as I keep choosing and creating, knowing that one of these moments, there will be that inevitable tsunami that God-willin’-and-the-crick-don’t-rise will begin to change the world.