You might know it.

The one where the calendar suddenly clears, the money’s all there, and energy is something only the power company worries about.

My kids are starting another school year. And my sabbatical continues to evade me.

Grab a coffee. Hit play on the video or audio. I’ll find some index cards and a pen. Let’s work it out together.

Then the unthinkable happens. Someone yells, “I’m done.” “No more.”

A notebook shoved in a drawer. Keys and out the door. A commitment made now sits in an empty chair by the kitchen table.

It felt right. It was so good. It was on fire. In an instant love somehow turned to hate.

“Leave me alone.” Hours. Days. Weeks. Coupons and receipts pile on top of it. You know exactly where it is in the stack but refuse to touch it.

It always creeps silently back. Hopeful. Patient. Willing.

Leaving the door slightly open so people would think you were there.

Endless trailers. The reclining seat. Being the only person in there at 2pm. The cold dark theater is the place your mind goes silent. Living someone else’s reality, letting everything go in your own.

Walking out the door sun hits the eyes and warmth from the asphalt immediately spreads up the skin. Fumbling for the keys in a kind of a daze. It meets you again.

I’ve been chasing why some ideas stick and most don’t.

Get your shoes on. Hit play. Come mull it over with me, while we take in the sunrise.

The energy of each venture is fully palpable.

A whole town of plain warehouses gives no indication of success or failure. The entry doors and docks keep no regular hours. They put on no facade.

The trucks, the forklifts, the logos on the wall. Each one telling the epic journey of an idea making its way into something felt and real.

I want to stop at every one. Wander in through the roll-top door. Ask what they’re making in there. Coffee going cold on a folding table. A radio on in the back.

Who staked their claim in this building with no storefront?

Nowhere to hide.

Just operating.

Got it! Boom! A thud rings out from the other side of the net with groans. Delightful. Back to the serving line.

Hand still stinging. Everyone’s eyes locked in…

A grin. The Wilson goes over the net with a relaxed brow and deliberate follow through.

It’s someone else’s turn to play. All eyes following the bouncing ball. Moving between hands. Someone diving for it. Laughing.

Anyone up for a volley?

Mostly what I find is a pile on my desk. Half of it goes in the waste basket.

But there’s a thing that keeps visiting. In the shower. Behind the wheel. It shows up when the noise drops.

Whose job is it to find the proof?

Onward!

Brad 8-)

This “eye of the storm” feels like a vacuum sucking the life out of the situation. Life fueled by the pressing deadline, the like button, the approving look.

What is calm actually fueled by?

Balance? Too fickle. Motivation? Too fleeting. Peace? Too judgmental.

I’m convinced the wind whipping and blowing around me is whispering an answer. Can you hear it? I can’t make it out either.

But I can see the movement in the trees.

Everyone expects a lightbulb to burn when they flip the switch. What we forget is that lightbulb will burn for years unless switched off.

Ideas have something to say but have no vocal cords, no arms, no hands, no legs. No body to speak of. Only charged fuzzy energy.

Ideas can’t have integrity. They cannot say. They cannot do.

So when one taps you on the shoulder… what’s it asking for?

And what might you need to ask it for in return… to maintain your integrity?

A chance to plan my own business after helping others do the same for 10 years.

The work of a business advisor is to shore up and serve the business founder.

Morning check-ins. Afternoon strategy calls. Evening reflection. Late night impressions.

It all ended so abruptly as it started. With an idea.

___

August, driving cross country with a jiu-jitsu grappling dummy in the seat next me.

Passing the time dodging traffic in HOV lanes and chuckling at the double takes by those passing on rural highways.

Sun riding low on the horizon of wind swept Wyoming. Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Big Magic” dancing between my ears rattled something loose.

A will and a want to support people who had big ideas. The ones that would somehow make the lonely planet out my windshield a more inviting place to live.

___

That want and will has been my constant companion. Walking beside me through financial struggles, relationship challenges, and health scares. Hand on my shoulder. Dirt on its shoes.

A driving force that demands my focus and attention. Morning check-ins. Afternoon strategy calls. Evening reflection. Late night impressions.

You’ve got one of these too… don’t you.