When Making More Money Starts Costing You Your Peace

What happens when the success you’ve been working toward begins pulling you away from the life you actually wanted? There was a time when making more money was supposed to solve everything. Well, maybe not everything.

I don’t think most of us genuinely believe money can buy happiness. But we do tend to believe that a little more of it would make life easier. And sometimes it does.

The bills get paid. The car gets repaired without a financial emergency. You can take someone you love out to dinner without mentally calculating whether you should have ordered the cheaper entrée.

That’s nice. That’s what money is supposed to do. But then there’s this peculiar thing that happens to some people. They start making more money. Then more.

Their business grows. Their reputation improves. Opportunities begin appearing that they couldn’t have imagined a few years earlier.

And somewhere along the way, they notice something strange.

They’re working harder, sleeping less, carrying more responsibility, and enjoying life considerably less than they did when they were struggling to make ends meet.

Wait a minute. Wasn’t this supposed to work the other way around? LOL.

When Success Starts Making Demands

One of the things I’ve noticed in working with entrepreneurs, authors, business owners, ministries, and people pursuing their dreams is that success has an interesting way of creating its own problems.

Not necessarily bad problems. Just problems we didn’t anticipate when we were dreaming about becoming successful.

At first, you’re trying to find customers. Then you’re trying to keep up with customers. Then you’re hiring people to help you serve those customers. Then you’re managing the people you’ve hired. And before you know it, you’ve built yourself a rather impressive organization that requires your attention every waking moment.

Congratulations. You’ve created a successful business.

You may also have created the most demanding job you’ve ever had. And the boss? Well, that would be you. Good luck asking that guy for a vacation.

Here’s the interesting part.

You might be making substantially more money than you ever thought possible. But if you don’t have time to enjoy your life, spend time with the people you love, or pursue the things that made you want to succeed in the first place, you might begin to wonder whether something has gone terribly wrong. It hasn’t necessarily. But something may need to change.

Three Ways Money Can Show Up in Your Life

I’ve come to think about money in three different ways, especially when considering how income relates to life purpose.

These aren’t official economic classifications. Just a useful way of looking at things.

    1. Money That Supports Your Life

This is the money most of us are thinking about when we say we’d like to make more.

          • It pays the bills.
          • It provides food, shelter, transportation, and a reasonable degree of security.
          • It gives us choices.
          • It allows us to help people we care about.
          • It creates opportunities to explore, learn, travel, give, and experience life more fully.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting this kind of money.

In fact, financial insecurity can be an enormous distraction from living a meaningful life.

When you’re worried about keeping the lights on, it’s difficult to spend much time contemplating your higher calling.

Money that supports your life can be a wonderful thing.

    1. Money That Consumes Your Life

This is where things get interesting.

Sometimes we begin pursuing financial success for perfectly reasonable reasons.

Then the pursuit itself becomes the center of everything.

          • We start measuring our days by productivity.
          • Our weeks by revenue.
          • Our worth by accomplishments.
          • And our future by how much more we can accumulate.
          • There’s always another goal.
          • Another opportunity.
          • Another project.
          • Another level to reach.

And because we’re capable people, we keep reaching.

Eventually, we may discover that the very thing we hoped would give us freedom has become the thing we’re least free to walk away from.

That’s a peculiar kind of prosperity, isn’t it?

Especially when you consider that you may have more money than ever before, yet less control over your own time.

    1. Money That Expresses Your Life

Now, this is the one that interests me most.

          • What if your income could become a natural extension of who you are?
          • What if the work you do, the message you share, the people you serve, and the things that energize you could come together in a way that also supports you financially?

Not just enough to survive. Possibly enough to prosper.

That’s the possibility I’ve spent much of my professional life exploring.

And it’s one of the central ideas behind my work with life purpose, message, passion, and mission.

I believe we have the potential to create lives in which our meaningful contributions and our financial well-being support one another.

Does that mean everyone who discovers their purpose will become wealthy? Of course not. There are too many variables in the real world to make that kind of promise.

But I do believe there’s something worth investigating when the work that earns your living begins to reflect the person you genuinely want to be. And when it doesn’t, that deserves attention, too.

What If Making More Money Isn’t the Problem?

Here’s a question I like to consider.

What if you didn’t have to make less money to get your peace back?

I know. That almost sounds too good to be true. But hear me out.

When people feel overwhelmed by their businesses or careers, they sometimes assume they have only two choices.

    1. Keep working at the same frantic pace.
    2. Or walk away from the success they’ve built.

But those aren’t always the only options. Sometimes the problem isn’t the amount of money you’re making. It’s the way you’re making it.

    • Maybe your business has grown, but your systems haven’t.
    • Maybe you’re still performing tasks that someone else could do just as well, possibly better.
    • Maybe you’ve accepted responsibilities that no longer fit your strengths.
    • Maybe you’re saying yes to opportunities because they’re profitable, even though they take you farther away from the work you actually love.
    • Or maybe you’re still operating from an old belief that says, If I’m not working hard enough to feel exhausted, I must not be doing enough.

That last one can be particularly stubborn.

I’ve seen people build businesses that could provide them with considerable freedom, only to continue operating as though every minute required their personal supervision.

They built the machine. Then volunteered to become one of its permanently installed parts.

There’s an opportunity for reconsideration there.

The Difference Between Working Hard and Working Against Yourself

I want to be careful about something. I’m not suggesting that every difficult season means you’re out of alignment with your purpose.

Sometimes meaningful work requires enormous effort.

    • Starting a business can be exhausting.
    • Writing a book can be frustrating.
    • Building something that will serve people for years may require sacrifices that don’t immediately produce a return.
    • And sometimes you simply have to do the work.

I have no objection to hard work. I’ve done plenty of it.

What interests me is whether that hard work is taking you somewhere you actually want to go.

There’s a difference between working hard to build something meaningful and working hard to maintain something that no longer serves you.

One can be invigorating, even when you’re tired. The other can slowly drain the life out of you.

And the tricky part? From the outside, they can look almost identical.

Two people might work the same number of hours, earn the same amount of money, and carry similar responsibilities.

    1. One feels deeply connected to the work.
    2. The other feels trapped by it.

The difference isn’t necessarily visible on a financial statement. Sometimes you have to look a little deeper.

When Your Business Outgrows Your Original Dream

Here’s another possibility. Maybe the business you built was exactly right for the person you were ten years ago.

    • It served its purpose.
    • It helped you develop skills.
    • It introduced you to people.
    • It generated income.
    • It created opportunities.

Wonderful. But you’ve changed. You’ve learned things. Your priorities have shifted.

Perhaps your understanding of what matters most has become clearer. And now you’re trying to fit the person you’ve become into a business designed around the person you used to be.

That can create some friction. It doesn’t mean you have to abandon everything you’ve built.

Sometimes a successful business simply needs to evolve alongside its owner.

    • A different role.
    • A different offer.
    • A different schedule.
    • A different relationship with the work.

Sometimes the most profitable thing you can do is stop doing something that has become unnecessarily expensive in terms of your time, energy, and attention.

Not because the work is beneath you. But because your contribution may be more valuable somewhere else. And perhaps someone else would genuinely enjoy doing the work you’ve come to dread.

Wouldn’t that be something?

Bringing Your Prosperity Into Alignment With Your Purpose

In my book, How to Find Your Life Purpose, Message, Passion, and Mission, I explore what I call the Quaternity of Purpose.

It’s a way of looking at four connected aspects of your higher calling.

    1. Your purpose.
    2. Your message.
    3. Your passion.
    4. Your mission.

I believe that when these four elements begin working together, life can become more coherent.

    • Our efforts can become more intentional.
    • Our work can become a more natural expression of who we are.
    • And the income generated through that work can become part of a sustainable, purposeful life.

If you’re making good money but losing your peace, it might be worth asking yourself four questions.

1. Does the way I’m earning money reflect my purpose?

Am I contributing something that matters to me, or have I become so focused on maintaining income that I’ve lost sight of why I started?

2. Does my work communicate the message I want to share?

When people encounter my business, my products, or my services, do they experience something that genuinely represents what I believe?

3. Is there still passion in what I’m doing?

Not necessarily excitement every minute of every day. That’s unrealistic.

But is there still something about the work that makes me glad to be doing it?

4. And is my present mission serving the life I’m trying to create?

This may be the most revealing question of all. Because sometimes we remain committed to a mission long after it has stopped being the best expression of our purpose.

And that’s when we may need to make an adjustment. Not necessarily a dramatic one. Just an honest one.

You Don’t Have to Monetize Every Minute of Your Life

There’s something else I want to mention. When I talk about creating a prosperous life aligned with purpose, I don’t mean turning every enjoyable activity into a business opportunity. Good grief.

    • Some things are worth doing simply because you love doing them.
    • Some things are worth giving away.
    • Some moments are meant to be experienced rather than packaged, promoted, or sold.

Your life is more than a collection of revenue-generating opportunities.

And sometimes the ability to enjoy something without wondering how to monetize it is one of the greatest luxuries prosperity can provide.

That doesn’t contradict the idea of a purpose-driven, financially sustainable life. To me, it’s part of the point.

The goal isn’t to make money from every breath you take.

The goal is to create a life in which your work, your resources, your relationships, and your contributions can coexist in a way that feels meaningful. A life where money serves the mission. Not the other way around.

Maybe It’s Time to Redefine Success

I’ve worked with enough people over the years to know that success can mean very different things at different stages of life.

    • At one point, success might mean making enough money to support a young family.
    • Later, it might mean building a thriving business. Then perhaps it means having enough freedom to spend more time with the people you love.
    • Or creating something that continues helping people long after you’ve stepped away from the daily work.
    • Or mentoring someone else so they can take what you’ve built even further.

None of those definitions is inherently better than another. They’re simply different expressions of what matters.

The trouble begins when we continue pursuing an old definition of success after our hearts have moved on.

We keep climbing. Keep expanding. Keep accumulating. And never stop to ask whether we’re still climbing the mountain we actually wanted to climb.

    • Maybe you’ve already reached a place where you have enough.
    • Maybe you’re nowhere near that place.

Either way, you deserve to decide what success means to you rather than allowing your previous ambitions to make that decision forever.

A Little Exercise Before You Get Back to Work

If this conversation is hitting a little close to home, here’s something you might try.

Take out a piece of paper. Draw a line down the middle.

On one side, write: What My Income Makes Possible

On the other: What My Income Currently Costs Me

Be specific.

On the first side, you might list financial security, opportunities, family support, generosity, freedom, and the satisfaction of meaningful work.

On the second, you might list time, stress, missed experiences, neglected relationships, or responsibilities you no longer enjoy.

Don’t use the exercise to beat yourself up. And don’t assume that every cost is unreasonable. Just look at what you’ve written.

Then ask yourself:

What could I change that would allow me to preserve more of the benefits while reducing some of the unnecessary costs?

You may discover that the answer isn’t earning less. It may be restructuring how you work.

    • Delegating something.
    • Changing an offer.
    • Protecting a little time.
    • Or finally giving yourself permission to enjoy some of the success you’ve already created.

Sometimes one thoughtful adjustment can make a remarkable difference.

The Money Isn’t the Enemy

I don’t believe you have to choose between prosperity and peace. But I do believe you may have to reconsider what prosperity means to you.

Because there’s a difference between having a successful business and having a successful life. And if you’re fortunate enough to build both, wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe your next level of success isn’t about making another million dollars. Maybe it is.

But perhaps it’s also about being able to sit down with someone you love, enjoy a conversation, and not feel that your business is calling you back to work every five minutes.

    • Maybe it’s about waking up excited about what you’re creating.
    • Maybe it’s about making a difference.
    • Maybe it’s about building something that can continue serving others without requiring you to sacrifice every remaining moment of your life.

Whatever it looks like for you, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to pursue it.

Because money can do a lot of wonderful things. But it makes a much better servant than a master.

The money isn’t the enemy.

Maybe it’s just time to remind it who it’s working for. And I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Have you ever reached a financial or professional goal, only to discover that the success didn’t feel quite the way you expected? What did you change—or what would you change if you could?

— David M Masters

 

You Found Your Life Purpose. So Why Does Everything Feel So Hard?

There’s a funny thing that happens when people discover their life purpose. They expect the heavens to open. They expect the clouds to part, the birds to sing, and all those confusing little pieces of their lives to suddenly fall into place. And sometimes, for a little while, it feels exactly like that.

 

There’s excitement. Relief. A wonderful sense of recognition.

This is it! This is what I’ve been looking for!

Then Monday morning comes. The bills are still there. Your family still expects you to show up for dinner. Your employer hasn’t suddenly decided to pay you for pursuing your dreams. And that person who said they’d always support you? Well, apparently, they had a few conditions. LOL.

Welcome to the next part of discovering your life purpose. The part we don’t talk about nearly enough.

Discovering Your Purpose Doesn’t Mean Your Life Has Caught Up With It

One of the most interesting things I’ve observed in my years of coaching is that a breakthrough in awareness doesn’t automatically produce a breakthrough in circumstances.

You can change your understanding of who you are in a moment. Changing the life you’ve spent decades building around an entirely different understanding? That may take a little longer.

Think about it. Your routines, relationships, financial obligations, commitments, and expectations have been assembled around the person you believed yourself to be.

Then one day, something shifts.

You begin to recognize that your life has a deeper meaning. You see possibilities that weren’t visible before. You realize that some of the things you’ve been doing don’t fit quite as comfortably as they once did.

Your inner world has changed. Your outer world hasn’t received the memo. And that’s where things can get interesting.

Sometimes the Hardest Part Isn’t Finding Your Purpose

It’s learning what to do with it. I believe every person has a unique purpose, something meaningful to contribute to this world. But discovering that purpose doesn’t necessarily tell you how to express it.

Let’s say you realize that you’re here to help people. Wonderful.

    • Help them how?
    • Who are these people?
    • What do you have to offer them?
    • How will you reach them?

And here’s a question that deserves more attention than it usually gets:

    • How are you going to support yourself while you’re doing it?

These aren’t objections to your purpose. They’re questions that can help you bring it into the real world.

Over time, I’ve come to see four important dimensions of a person’s higher calling.

I call them the Quaternity of Purpose.

    1. Your purpose is the deeper reason you’re here.
    2. Your message is what you have to communicate.
    3. Your passion is the energy that draws you toward the work.
    4. And your mission is what you actually do about it.

These four elements are related, but they aren’t interchangeable.

    • You might know your purpose without knowing how to communicate it.
    • You might have tremendous passion without a workable mission.
    • You might even build a successful mission and eventually realize that you’ve wandered away from the purpose that inspired it.

That’s when life can begin to feel strangely difficult, even when you’re doing something you love.

Not Everyone Will Celebrate the Person You’re Becoming

Here’s another uncomfortable possibility. The people who love you may be perfectly comfortable with the person you’ve always been.

They know how you fit into their lives. They know what to expect. They know the role you play.

When you begin changing, even in wonderful ways, they may feel uncertain about what those changes mean for them.

    • Some will cheer you on.
    • Some will worry.
    • Some will question your judgment.
    • And a few may prefer that you return to being the person they already understand.

That doesn’t necessarily make them bad people. Sometimes they’re frightened. Sometimes they have legitimate concerns. Sometimes they can see something you haven’t considered.

And sometimes, yes, people really do prefer the old version of you because that version was easier for them to manage.

Your job isn’t to win every argument. Your job is to become discerning enough to recognize the difference between useful feedback and someone else’s fear.

You can listen with love without surrendering the direction of your life.

Your Purpose Shouldn’t Require You to Abandon Your Humanity

There’s a temptation, especially when we feel deeply called to something, to turn that calling into an obligation that consumes everything else.

    • We sacrifice our sleep.
    • We neglect relationships.
    • We stop enjoying ordinary moments.
    • We convince ourselves that if we’re not constantly working toward the mission, we’re somehow failing it.

But I wonder. What good is a life purpose if pursuing it makes you increasingly unavailable to the life you’re here to live?

    • Maybe that frustration you’re experiencing isn’t evidence that you’ve chosen the wrong purpose.
    • Maybe your approach needs adjusting.
    • Maybe you’re trying to accomplish in three months what deserves three years.
    • Maybe you’re carrying responsibilities that could be shared.
    • Maybe you’ve confused the urgency of your enthusiasm with the timing of your mission.
    • Or maybe you’ve taken something that once brought you joy and turned it into another job with an impossible boss.

You.

That one can be particularly difficult to negotiate with.

What If You Didn’t Have to Figure Out Everything Today?

I often encourage people to look at their lives as an ongoing process of alignment. Not a single dramatic decision. Not one heroic leap into the unknown. A series of thoughtful adjustments.

You don’t necessarily have to quit your job tomorrow. You don’t have to sell your house, move across the country, or announce a new identity to everyone you’ve ever met.

Sometimes the next meaningful step is remarkably small.

    • Write one page.
    • Have one conversation.
    • Investigate one possibility.
    • Create a little room in your schedule for something that matters.
    • Ask yourself whether the work you’re doing today reflects the person you’re becoming.
    • And perhaps most importantly, give yourself permission to learn as you go.

Your purpose may be enduring, but the missions through which you express it can change. What served you beautifully ten years ago may not be the best expression of your calling today.

That’s not necessarily failure. That may be growth.

The Question I’d Like You to Consider

If you’ve discovered something meaningful about your life, but things have become unexpectedly difficult, I’d like to invite you to consider a different question.

Instead of asking: Why is everything so hard if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing?

Try asking:

What part of my life hasn’t come into alignment with what I now know about myself?

    • Is it your schedule?
    • Your relationships?
    • Your financial strategy?
    • The way you’re communicating your message?
    • The mission you’ve chosen?
    • Or perhaps the expectations you’re placing on yourself?

You may discover that you don’t need a new purpose at all. You simply need a more workable way of living the one you’ve already found. And that can change everything.

Finding Your Purpose Is Only the Beginning

I wrote How to Find Your Life Purpose, Message, Passion, and Mission because I’ve seen what can happen when people begin recognizing who they really are—and when they start bringing their everyday lives into alignment with that discovery.

It’s a journey of awareness, expression, action, resistance, and continuing evolution.

It can be challenging. It can also be one of the most rewarding adventures you’ll ever undertake.

So, if things aren’t unfolding quite the way you imagined, don’t be too quick to conclude that you’ve made a terrible mistake.

Take another look. There may be something worth adjusting. Something worth learning. Something worth releasing.

You don’t have to understand the entire journey to take the next meaningful step. And you don’t have to become someone else to live your purpose. You may simply be learning how to become more fully yourself.

I’d love to hear your thoughts: Have you ever discovered something you felt called to do, only to find that actually doing it was much harder than you expected? What did you learn along the way?

— David M Masters

 

 

What Changed First? The Surprising Power of Believing Your Life Can Be Different

From faith healing and addiction recovery to finding your life’s purpose, I’ve spent nearly fifty years watching people transform. Today, I began connecting some dots I hadn’t connected quite this way before.

I wasn’t planning to revisit the soul of my life’s work today. LOL. I was actually working on something entirely different.

I’ve been helping some natural alternative health practitioners explore and document their experiences with unconventional approaches to wellness. And while investigating some rather extraordinary recovery stories, I found myself wondering about something that has fascinated me for most of my adult life.

How much of a person’s recovery begins before the treatment ever starts?

Not that the treatment doesn’t matter. Sometimes it matters enormously. Nature has given us an extraordinary collection of compounds, plants, minerals, and biological resources. Modern medicine has learned a great deal from studying them.

But I kept coming back to something else. The person receiving the treatment. Their expectations. Their confidence. Their relationship with the practitioner. And, perhaps most importantly, their willingness to believe that their circumstances could actually change.

One person described an experience with a natural alternative practitioner this way: “I didn’t know if this would work, but I believed in her.” Then came the remarkable declaration: “She healed me 100%.”

Now, I don’t know exactly what happened inside that person’s body. I couldn’t tell you how much of the improvement came from the intervention, how much came from other circumstances, or whether belief contributed to the outcome.

But something in that statement caught my attention.

The belief came first. The reported healing followed.

And suddenly, I found myself traveling backward nearly fifty years.

The God Factor

When I first entered the ministry, I was attending Bible college and working with Teen Challenge, a Christian residential program for people struggling with drug and alcohol addiction. Back then, we talked about extraordinary recovery statistics. I remember hearing recidivism figures in the neighborhood of three to eight percent.

At the time, we had a name for what we believed made the difference. The God Factor. And I wasn’t simply observing it from a distance. I was involved in the process.

Sometimes we would meet with someone facing criminal charges and appear in court to propose an alternative to incarceration. Rather than going to jail or prison, the person might be given an opportunity to enter a residential rehabilitation program.

There were serious consequences for failing to comply with the court’s conditions. But something else happened. The person was offered a different future. And, in our ministry, that future began with an encounter with Jesus.

The central message was wonderfully simple. You are a new creation in Christ. The old has passed away. The new has come. Whoa, Nelly!

Think about that for a moment. We weren’t telling someone, “If you work hard enough, maybe someday you’ll become a different person.” We were telling them that the transformation had already begun.

Their new identity came first. Their new behavior would follow.

That was the premise of the conversion experience. And I watched people respond to it. Their demeanor changed. Their expectations changed. Their understanding of themselves changed.

Of course, that didn’t mean addiction disappeared instantly. People still had to navigate cravings, withdrawal, emotional wounds, relationships, and all the practical difficulties of rebuilding their lives. But something important had shifted.

They were no longer approaching the future exclusively through the identity that had brought them into trouble. They had a new starting point.

Sometimes the Recovery Begins While You’re Waiting

Here’s another interesting part. Sometimes people began changing before they even entered the residential program. They had made a commitment. They had been given an opportunity. They were waiting for the next chapter to begin. And during that waiting period, they were already thinking differently about their lives.

Now, the anticipation wasn’t the only influence. Legal consequences, a changed environment, and the prospect of structured support all mattered. But I began wondering whether we sometimes overlook what happens between the moment someone commits to an intervention and the moment the intervention actually begins.

I’ve encountered similar stories in alternative health.

Someone makes an appointment with a practitioner who has a long waiting list. Three weeks away. During those three weeks, they begin imagining the possibility of recovery. They talk about what they’re going to do when they feel better. They start paying attention to their health. Perhaps they make a few changes before their appointment.

And sometimes they report improvement before receiving the treatment they originally sought.

That doesn’t establish that anticipation caused the improvement. Symptoms can fluctuate naturally, and other factors may be involved.

But wouldn’t it be interesting to measure?

    • What was happening when the person first requested help?
    • What changed during the waiting period?
    • And what happened after treatment began?

Maybe we’ve been starting the stopwatch too late.

The Person Who Gives You Permission to Get Better

There’s another part of this that I find especially compelling. The practitioner.

Sometimes a person has lost confidence in their own ability to recover. They’ve tried things. They’ve been disappointed. They’ve heard discouraging predictions.

And then they meet someone who looks them in the eye and says, in effect: “I believe there’s a way forward for you.”

That can be a powerful experience. Not necessarily because the practitioner possesses some mysterious healing ability. But because the person receiving help may begin entertaining a possibility they had nearly abandoned.

I recognize this from ministry. I recognize it from coaching. And I recognize it in some of the stories told by natural alternative practitioners.

There is a relationship between trust, expectation, and the willingness to participate in recovery.

Researchers study parts of this through placebo effects, therapeutic relationships, and mind-body interactions.

But I suspect the word placebo is sometimes too small for what we’re talking about. Because we’re not always discussing a person expecting a pill to work. Sometimes we’re discussing a person beginning to imagine an entirely different life.

From Conversion to Purpose, Message, Passion, and Mission

Eventually, my work moved beyond the ministry and into life coaching. And somewhere along that journey, I developed what I call PMPM: Purpose. Message. Passion. Mission.

The idea is to help someone discover and align four important dimensions of their life. Their Purpose gives them a reason to move forward. Their Message helps them recognize what they have to share. Their Passion gives energy to the journey. And their Mission turns those discoveries into meaningful action.

When these four elements begin working together, something interesting happens. People change. Sometimes immediately.

I’ve watched someone’s demeanor shift during the discovery process. They sit differently. They speak differently. Their eyes light up. Suddenly, the future isn’t an enormous collection of unrelated problems. They have a direction. A roadmap. A reason to get out of bed tomorrow. And off they go!

It’s not quite the same experience as Christian conversion, but I recognize the family resemblance.

A new identity emerges. A different future becomes imaginable. And the journey begins.

Do We Really Have a Purpose?

Some of my fellow coaches have given me a fair amount of grief over the years. They think it’s ridiculous to suggest that everyone has some special purpose floating around in the sky, waiting to be discovered. Or perhaps tattooed on their forehead. LOL.

But that argument misses something important.

You don’t have to believe that your purpose was assigned by God before you were born. You don’t have to believe in destiny. You don’t even have to believe in God.

You can believe that purpose is something you discover, something you create, or something that emerges as you learn more about yourself.

What matters in the coaching process is whether you can establish a meaningful direction that brings your values, abilities, interests, and actions into alignment.

I’ve worked with people who have very different spiritual and philosophical beliefs. That’s fine with me. I don’t need them to agree with my understanding of the universe. And I don’t think coaches need to agree with their clients’ spiritual beliefs to respect the importance those beliefs may have in their lives.

A Christian can understand purpose as a calling. An atheist can understand purpose as a consciously chosen commitment. Both can build meaningful lives around it.

The important thing is that the purpose belongs to the person discovering it. Not to the coach.

The Breakthrough Is Real. But Will It Last?

Now we come to the part that has troubled me for years.

I have witnessed some remarkable transformations through PMPM. But I wouldn’t suggest that everyone who experiences a breakthrough goes on to fulfill their mission. Far from it.

Based on my own informal observations, I would estimate that perhaps thirty percent sustain their new direction over time. That isn’t a controlled study or a formally audited success rate. It’s my working estimate from years of coaching.

And I’ve spoken with some of the people who didn’t continue.

Their explanations have been remarkably similar. “It was great while it lasted.” “It was just too hard.” “I couldn’t do it.”

And that brings us to what may be the most important discovery of this entire conversation.

A person can discover a new purpose without fully overcoming the old beliefs they hold about themselves.

The breakthrough changes their direction. But it may not change their relationship with difficulty. They encounter a challenge. Something doesn’t work. Someone criticizes their idea. They lose an opportunity.

And the old voice returns. “See? I knew you couldn’t do it.”

The person hasn’t necessarily lost their purpose. They’ve lost confidence in their ability to pursue it. And that’s a very different problem.

What Happens When You Encounter Your First Obstacle?

Here’s a thought I’ve been entertaining. What if we prepared people for difficulty before they encountered it?

Not by frightening them. Not by listing every possible thing that could go wrong. But by giving them permission to be inexperienced.

Suppose someone finishes their PMPM discovery, excited about their future.

And I tell them:

“You’re going to encounter challenges. That’s part of the journey. But promise me something. Don’t decide whether you’re capable of fulfilling your mission based on your first obstacle.”

Then I might add:

“How about we make it to your seventh challenge before you start drawing conclusions about what you’re capable of?”

Seven isn’t a magic number. It’s simply a way of interrupting that old habit of treating the first disappointment as proof of personal inadequacy.

And maybe the seventh challenge won’t be the end of the journey, either. Maybe by then they’ll have discovered something extraordinary.

    • They can encounter obstacles without surrendering their identity.
    • They can change strategies without abandoning their mission.
    • They can ask for help without admitting defeat.

The first few challenges aren’t necessarily evidence that you’re unqualified. They may be part of how you become qualified.

Of course, persistence doesn’t mean ignoring serious risks or continuing down a harmful path. Sometimes the wisest decision is to change direction. But changing your route is not the same thing as surrendering your purpose.

The Community That Keeps the Transformation Alive

This is where my Teen Challenge experience comes back into the picture. When someone entered that residential program, they entered an environment designed to reinforce their new identity.

They were surrounded by people who believed in the possibility of transformation. They had structure. They had encouragement. They had accountability. They had a community. And that community mattered.

With PMPM, things work a little differently.

Someone discovers their purpose, and then they begin building their own support system as they move forward. They meet people who share their interests. They find collaborators. They encounter mentors. They connect with people whose skills complement their own.

Some become friends. Some become business associates. Some become members of a growing team. And if they’re smart, they begin building their tribe.

Not everyone needs to follow the same mission. They simply need to recognize and support one another’s journeys.

Meanwhile, the person’s old relationships don’t necessarily disappear. A childhood friend can remain a childhood friend. Family members can remain loved and appreciated. But those relationships no longer have to define the limits of what the person believes is possible.

Sometimes the people who knew us before our transformation have difficulty recognizing the person we’re becoming. They may even discourage us, believing they’re protecting us from disappointment. And that’s where a new community can make an enormous difference.

The new people in our lives begin recognizing us by the mission we’re pursuing. They see our contributions. They invite us into opportunities. They encourage our progress. Eventually, our new identity becomes part of our everyday social reality.

The mission attracts the community. And the community helps sustain the mission.

Why Environment Matters So Much

I’ve seen a related problem in addiction recovery. Someone makes substantial progress in a residential program or during incarceration. Then they’re released into the same circumstances they left. The same pressures. The same habits. Sometimes the same people encouraging the same destructive behavior.

That doesn’t mean their old neighborhood is inherently bad, or that everyone returning home will relapse. But environments influence behavior. And changing your identity while remaining surrounded by reminders of your old identity can be difficult.

The same thing happens to people pursuing a newly discovered mission. They may be excited about starting a business, writing a book, serving a community, or creating something meaningful.

Then they encounter people who say: “Who do you think you are?” “That’s never going to work.” “Get real.”

Those comments can be devastating when they awaken an old belief that the person was never capable in the first place.

This is why building new associations matters. Not because we should abandon everyone who disagrees with us. But because we need relationships that support our growth rather than constantly pulling us back toward our previous limitations.

What Does All This Have to Do With Healing?

Quite a lot, I suspect. We began this conversation by considering people who report dramatic improvements after receiving unconventional health interventions. Some of those interventions may have genuine biological effects. Others may not.

And in many individual cases, we simply don’t have enough information to know.

But what if we examined the entire experience?

      • The decision to seek help.
      • The anticipation before the appointment.
      • The relationship with the practitioner.
      • The belief that improvement is possible.
      • The daily routine that follows.
      • The changes in sleep, stress, activity, and behavior.
      • The encouragement received from others.
      • And the new identity that sometimes emerges when someone begins seeing themselves as capable of recovery.

None of those factors proves that a particular treatment works. But neither should we overlook them. They may be important parts of what happens when someone begins getting better.

And perhaps the same principle applies across several areas of human experience.

      • A person recovering from addiction.
      • A person managing a health condition.
      • A person discovering their life’s purpose.
      • A person emerging from years of discouragement.

In each case, the circumstances differ. The medical, psychological, social, and spiritual considerations differ.

But there may be a recurring element:

Someone begins to believe a different future is possible and starts living in ways that move toward it.

The Missing Piece May Be What Happens After the Breakthrough

Today, I began with a question about healing. And somehow, I ended up reconsidering nearly fifty years of ministry, coaching, and personal development work. LOL.

But I think I’ve discovered something useful.

I’ve spent a great deal of my life helping people experience breakthroughs.

A new identity. A new purpose. A new understanding of what’s possible.

And those moments can be extraordinary. But perhaps the next great opportunity isn’t making the breakthrough more powerful. Perhaps it’s helping people sustain it.

      • Helping them understand that the first obstacle doesn’t invalidate their discovery.
      • Helping them build relationships that reinforce the person they’re becoming.
      • Helping them distinguish a failed strategy from a failed mission.
      • And helping them remember who they decided to become when the excitement begins to fade.

Maybe we need to pay more attention to the days and weeks following the moment of transformation. Because that is when the new identity encounters the old world. And that’s where the real journey begins.

So, What Changed First?

Was it the person’s health? Their behavior? Their relationships? Their expectations? Their understanding of who they were? Or was it the moment they encountered someone who believed in a future they couldn’t yet imagine for themselves?

I don’t think there is one answer that explains every transformation. And I’m not particularly interested in forcing one. But I am interested in asking better questions.

After all these years, I still believe that people are capable of extraordinary change. I also know that change can be difficult to sustain.

So perhaps the question we should be asking isn’t simply:

“How do we help someone experience a breakthrough?”

Perhaps it’s:

“How do we help someone build a life that can support the person they’ve just become?”

And maybe that’s the next chapter of my life’s work. Not another spectacular moment of transformation. But helping people carry that transformation into tomorrow. And the next day. And the seventh challenge. And beyond.

Because discovering your purpose is a wonderful thing.

Learning to keep walking when the road gets difficult is how that purpose becomes a life.

FAQ

Q: What is personal transformation?

A: Personal transformation is a meaningful change in how someone understands themselves, their values, their possibilities, or their direction in life. It may influence behavior, relationships, priorities, and long-term goals.

Q: Can changing your beliefs change your life?

A: Beliefs can influence expectations, motivation, behavior, and decision-making. Developing a more constructive understanding of yourself may help you pursue opportunities and respond differently to challenges.

Q: What is the difference between behavior modification and identity transformation?

A: Behavior modification focuses on changing specific actions or habits. Identity transformation involves changing how someone understands who they are and what they are capable of becoming. Both can contribute to lasting personal development.

Q: What is Purpose, Message, Passion, and Mission (PMPM)?

A: PMPM is a life-purpose coaching framework developed by David M. Masters. It helps individuals identify and align their Purpose, Message, Passion, and Mission to create a meaningful direction for their lives.

Q: Why do personal breakthroughs sometimes fail to last?

A: An initial breakthrough may create excitement and clarity without eliminating longstanding self-doubt, difficult circumstances, or unsupportive relationships. Sustaining change often requires continued practice, adaptation, and supportive connections.

Q: How does community support personal transformation?

A: Supportive relationships can provide encouragement, accountability, shared experience, practical assistance, and opportunities for growth. These connections may help reinforce a person’s developing identity and goals.

Q: Can faith contribute to personal transformation?

A: Faith can provide meaning, hope, identity, community, and motivation for some individuals. People may also experience meaningful transformation through secular approaches that emphasize purpose, values, and personal agency.

Q: What is the role of anticipation in personal change?

A: Anticipation can influence expectations, motivation, attention, and behavior before a formal intervention begins. Preparing for a meaningful change may itself encourage someone to begin acting differently.

Q: How do you overcome self-doubt after a breakthrough?

A: One approach is to recognize that obstacles do not automatically invalidate a new purpose. Revising strategies, seeking support, building skills, and interpreting setbacks as opportunities to learn can help sustain progress.

Q: What does it mean to build your tribe?

A: Building your tribe means developing relationships with people who understand, respect, or support your direction. These may include friends, mentors, collaborators, professional associates, and others who contribute to your journey.

 

Don’t Bury Your Symphony: Give Your Old Creative Work New Life

For years, I’ve told people some version of: Don’t bury your symphony in the graveyard. You’ve probably heard the sentiment before. The graveyard is filled with unwritten books, unsung songs, unbuilt businesses, unspoken words, and magnificent ideas that never made it out of someone’s head.

As a coach, I’ve spent a good portion of my life trying to prevent that. Write the book. Create the course. Record the message. Build the thing. Get as much of what is inside you outside of you while you’re still on the right side of the grass.

Good advice.

Then there’s me. LOL.

I Thought I’d Done a Pretty Good Job

For the most part, I have. I’ve built businesses, launched ministries, written books, created courses, recorded ideas, developed programs, etc. And I’ve learned to recognize which creations have sustainability.

Some things are created for a moment. They do their job and disappear.

Others have what I call evergreen potential. They’re almost like little money-market bonds of creativity. You invest in them, preserve them, occasionally dust them off, update them, and bring them back into circulation. They continue accruing value.

I’ve become pretty good at recognizing those.

Good job, David.

Except… there was this one rather large part of my life that I let disappear almost completely.

My Awkward Career as a Singer/Songwriter

Once upon a time, I wrote songs. Lots of them. I performed them. Recorded them. Produced them. And I did it under the name Dave-Michael Valentine.

I was never particularly confident about my career as a singer/songwriter. It served its purpose at the time, and eventually it stopped being financially practical. So I let it go. Completely.

I had done the same thing with other businesses. Video stores disappeared. Photo labs disappeared. Industries change. Technology changes. Markets change. You move on.

That’s life.

So I moved on from the music too. I didn’t preserve it particularly well. I didn’t maintain the catalog. I didn’t periodically pull out the old recordings and reminisce. I simply went forward.

And for decades, that was fine.

Then Some People Came Looking for the Music

Recently, a few people who remembered and supported that old music started asking about bringing it back. My first reaction was something like: Really? Why?

I’m no stranger to music production. Mary and I had a recording studio. My best friend, bandmate, and supporter Norman joined us at Eternalight Studios in Centralia.

I know what went into producing music. It was expensive. It was labor-intensive.

And, frankly, many of those old recordings were never pushed all the way to the level of commercial production I would have wanted.

So what would be the point of resurrecting them now?

Then these guys showed me something. Technology had changed. Dramatically.

They had access to contemporary production tools, including AI-assisted tools, that could do things we couldn’t have dreamed of doing economically when those recordings were made.

I was skeptical.

Then I listened to some of the work they had restored and recreated.

Okay. You have my attention.

Unprofitable Is Not the Same as Worthless

That may be the larger lesson I’ve stumbled into.

When something stops generating money, we have a tendency to measure its remaining value by its commercial viability. Sometimes that’s appropriate.

A business has to make economic sense. But commercial value and human value are not the same measurement.

    • An old photograph may be commercially worthless and priceless to your granddaughter.
    • A letter may have no market value whatsoever and become one of the most treasured possessions in a family.
    • A book that sold poorly may contain one idea that changes someone’s life twenty years later.

And apparently… an old song that never became a hit can still matter to somebody.

I hadn’t really thought about that.

My Life Used to Have a Soundtrack

There’s another part of this resurrection that caught me by surprise. I realized what I actually missed. It wasn’t performing. It wasn’t trying to become famous. It wasn’t chasing record sales.

I miss writing songs.

For many years, my life had a soundtrack. Something would happen… and eventually there would be a song.

    • A relationship.
    • A heartbreak.
    • A spiritual experience.
    • Something ridiculous.
    • Something beautiful.
    • Something I couldn’t quite explain in ordinary conversation.

It could become music.

Looking back, it’s almost as though I lived inside one enormous music video. There was always another lyric wandering around somewhere. Another melody. Another story looking for three minutes and forty seconds in which to become something else.

I miss that. I hadn’t realized how much.

Maybe Nothing Creative Is Ever Completely Wasted

This has made me wonder about the things we leave behind. Not everything needs to be resurrected. Good heavens.

Some things served their purpose and deserve a peaceful retirement.

Please don’t interpret this as instructions to retrieve everything you’ve ever created from the attic. LOL.

But perhaps occasionally it’s worth looking back and asking:

Did I abandon this because it had no value… or because its season appeared to be over?

Those are not necessarily the same thing. Technology changes. You change. The world changes.

Something that was impossible twenty years ago may be ridiculously easy today. Something that couldn’t find an audience then may find one now. And something that will never earn a nickel might still deserve to exist.

Get It Out of You

That’s where this circles back to the advice I’ve given other people for years.

Don’t bury your symphony. Maybe yours isn’t music.

Maybe it’s

    • The book you’ve been talking about writing.
    • The photographs nobody has organized.
    • The family stories only you know.
    • The invention scribbled on paper in your desk.
    • The course you’ve never finished.
    • The paintings stacked against the garage wall.
    • The business idea.
    • The research.
    • The poems.
    • The recipes.
    • The ridiculous little project nobody else understands.

I’m not saying everything inside you needs an audience. I’m saying give the things that matter a chance to exist outside of you.

    • Preserve them.
    • Finish some of them.
    • Share some.
    • Leave others for the people who will eventually discover them.

Before Somebody Shovels Dirt on It

Maybe that’s the invitation hiding inside all of this. Take another look. Not only at your music. Look at whatever you created during another season of your life and eventually left behind.

Maybe you’re one of my old musician cronies with boxes of tapes somewhere. Maybe there are songs you haven’t heard in forty years.

Maybe you have photographs, manuscripts, poems, sermons, recordings, inventions, research, artwork, family histories, or ideas created with technologies that became obsolete before the work itself did.

Pull something out. Look at it again. Not nostalgically, necessarily. Curiously.

Ask: What could I do with this today that I couldn’t do then?

That’s an entirely different question than asking whether something from your past is still commercially viable.

    • Technology has changed.
    • Distribution has changed.
    • Production has changed.
    • The cost of doing things has changed.
    • And now AI is changing the equation again.

Things that once required a recording studio, production crew, publishing company, substantial financing, or access to specialized equipment may suddenly have possibilities that simply didn’t exist when we packed them away.

That doesn’t mean everything needs resurrecting. Some things really are finished. God bless them. LOL.

But maybe some aren’t.

    • Maybe there is something sitting in your garage right now that deserves another afternoon of your attention.
    • Maybe your children have never heard the songs you wrote.
    • Maybe your grandchildren don’t even know you wrote songs.
    • Maybe somebody who loved your work thirty or forty years ago would smile enormously just hearing it again.
    • And maybe—just maybe—the person who needs to hear it hasn’t even been born yet.

That’s worth thinking about.

So, to all my fellow old fogies, musicians, writers, artists, dreamers, garage-band survivors, four-track veterans, cassette collectors, reel-to-reel warriors, and people who once made something that mattered to them: Go look.

See what’s still there. See what’s salvageable. See what today’s tools can do with yesterday’s creativity.

I’m hoping I’m not the only one doing this.

In fact, I’d love to see a small army of my old cronies digging through closets, garages, storage units, and forgotten boxes, finding those old recordings and saying, “Well, lookie there…”

    • Maybe that song isn’t dead after all.
    • Maybe the old soundtrack still has a little life in it.
    • And maybe bringing the old songs back reminds some of us that we’re not quite finished making new ones.

As for the Dave-Michael Valentine catalog, we’re going to see where this goes.

Maybe something happens. Maybe nothing happens. I’m becoming less concerned about that. The songs will exist. Someone will be able to hear them.

And someday, when somebody finally does shovel dirt onto me… at least they won’t be shoveling it onto the songs.

 

KER-CHUNK! Somebody Said the Word

I’ve discovered a peculiar form of entertainment. I probably shouldn’t admit this. But lately, when I notice someone has a particularly reliable trigger word, I’m occasionally tempted to work it innocently into a conversation just to watch what happens.

Someone says: God.

KER-CHUNK.

Autoplay engaged. And we’re off.

The six-minute God presentation has begun.

Someone else casually mentions going to their: Doctor. KER-CHUNK. “Well, let me tell you about doctors…”

Nobody asked. But apparently the program was already loaded.

    • Police.
    • Attorney.
    • Military.
    • Weight loss.
    • Immigration.
    • Gender.
    • Vaccines.
    • Guns.
    • Republican.
    • Democrat.

And God forbid somebody says: Trump. KER-CHUNK. Cancel your dinner reservations. We may be here a while.

The Human Autoplay Feature

I’m having some fun with this, but I think something rather important is happening. Human beings automate things. We have to. Imagine waking up every morning and having to rediscover how doorknobs work.

Automation is enormously useful. But we don’t automate only physical tasks. We automate associations. Interpretations. Emotional responses. Conclusions. Stories. Sometimes we even automate entire speeches.

Someone says the magic word and – before we’ve really considered what this particular person is saying in this particular moment – the familiar recording begins.

KER-CHUNK. Autoplay.

And this has nothing to do with whether your position is liberal, conservative, religious, atheist, conventional, alternative, mainstream, rebellious, or somewhere out beyond Pluto. Autoplay doesn’t care.

A six-minute glowing tribute is just as automatic as a six-minute tirade.

I Don’t Want to Be a Jukebox

Personally, I don’t want to be reduced to a jukebox with a limited playlist.

Push B-7 and get my God speech. C-12 plays my doctor recording. D-4 launches politics. Same record. Same scratches. Same chorus. Every time.

Because if somebody knows which button to push and can predict what I’m going to say for the next six minutes, they don’t need mind control.

I’ve automated the job for them. LOL.

That’s what I playfully think of as the mind-control grid. Not some sinister organization operating from an underground bunker. Our grids are much more ordinary.

Family. Culture. Education. Pain. Religion. Politics. Media.Tribal belonging. People we’ve trusted. People who hurt us. Things we’ve experienced repeatedly.

Over time, we build an internal model of reality. And that model is useful. Until we forget it’s a model.

Your Recording May Be Right

This is important. I’m not suggesting that your beliefs are wrong.

    • Maybe you have very good reasons for distrusting doctors.
    • Maybe doctors saved your life.
    • Maybe religion wounded you.
    • Maybe faith transformed you.
    • Maybe your experience with law enforcement was terrible.
    • Maybe a police officer once stood between you and disaster.

Keep your experiences. Keep your conclusions if they still make sense to you.

The question isn’t: “Is my opinion wrong?” The more interesting question is: “Did I choose this response just now?”

Because your beliefs aren’t necessarily the prison. Your inability to stop them from going on autoplay might be.

Curiosity Interrupts Autoplay

This is where it gets interesting to me. Someone says one of my words.

KER-CHUNK. I can feel the familiar program loading. But before it gets very far: Pause.

    • What does this particular person mean?
    • What actually happened?
    • What don’t I know yet?
    • Is there information here that doesn’t fit my existing model?
    • What has changed since I formed this opinion?
    • What might I notice if I weren’t trying to prove anything?

Now I’m not merely reacting. I’m accumulating data. I’m expanding. And after listening, investigating, and considering the new information, I may arrive at exactly the same conclusion I had before. Fine. Except this time, I chose it.

The Three-Second Experiment

Try it sometime. You don’t have to change your beliefs. You don’t have to become neutral. You don’t have to hug anyone. Just notice when one of your programs starts.

KER-CHUNK.

Then give yourself three seconds.

Instead of immediately asking, “What do I already know about this?”

Try: “What is actually happening here?”

That’s a very different question.

Certainty says: “I already have the answer.” Curiosity says: “Let’s see what else reality has brought us.”

I prefer the second one. Not because certainty is always wrong. But because reality has not finished introducing itself. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life playing the same twelve records simply because somebody keeps pushing the buttons.

There are more songs. More information. More observations. More possibilities. More surprises. More life.

Maybe escaping the so-called mind-control grid isn’t discovering the correct collection of opinions. That could just become another jukebox. Maybe freedom is becoming increasingly difficult to reduce to predictable output.

Someone pushes the button.

KER-CHUNK.

Oh, lookie there. One of mine. And then, instead of automatically pressing PLAY…

I get curious.

Because human potential expands wherever autoplay ends and curiosity begins.

 

 

When a Successful Business Suddenly Stops Working: What Next?

There is an interesting thing that happens in business. You struggle. You experiment. You make mistakes. You lose money. You try something else. You finally figure out what works. Then one day you look around and think, We made it.

The business is working. Customers are coming. Bills are being paid. Maybe you’re making more money than you ever expected. Wonderful.

I’ve watched clients reach this place many times. And quite often, that’s the last time I see them. Which is perfectly fine with me. Great. No problem. I’ve done my job. Go forth and prosper.

But every once in a while, I hear from one of them again. And the conversation sounds considerably different.

Somehow, between We made it! and What happened? they woke up alone in the desert. Nothing in sight but sand.

Meanwhile, somewhere miles behind them, the business they thought was safely established is beginning to crumble.

Nobody Moved the Desert

That’s the strange part. Usually, they didn’t suddenly become stupid. They didn’t forget how to run a business. They may have been doing exactly what made them successful.

The world around the business changed.

    • The foreign supplier manufacturing a critical component goes under.
    • The FDA prohibits an ingredient central to the product line.
    • A manufacturer discontinues something you’ve built your entire offering around.
    • Your biggest wholesale customer changes management and drops you.
    • A competitor undercuts your pricing.
    • Black-hat competitors attack your online presence.
    • Your payment processor suddenly decides your perfectly legal industry is too risky.
    • Your shopping-cart platform is acquired, “improved,” glitches repeatedly, and eventually becomes unusable.
    • A social-media platform changes its rules and your reach disappears almost overnight.
    • Search algorithms change and suddenly customers who used to find you easily can’t find you at all.
    • Advertising costs double.
    • Shipping rates make your previously profitable product difficult to sell.
    • A tariff turns yesterday’s margins into today’s losses.
    • A landlord sells the building.
    • A key employee leaves and takes years of institutional knowledge with them.
    • Your best salesperson retires.
    • A trademark dispute appears from nowhere.
    • Your bank changes its lending policies.
    • Customer tastes change.
    • Technology makes part of your offering obsolete.
    • A new regulation changes how you’re allowed to operate.
    • Someone who controls a piece of technology your company depends upon decides to shut it down.

Or perhaps nothing dramatic happens at all. Sales simply begin slipping. Five percent. Then another five. Nothing alarming enough to panic over.

Until one morning you look at the numbers and realize you’ve been walking into the desert for eighteen months.

Success Is Not a Finish Line

Running a business, brick-and-mortar, online, or some combination of the two, is rarely a do it once and you’re done forever proposition.

If it were, many of the brands we grew up loving would still be here.

Markets move. People move. Technology moves. Culture moves. Money moves. Your customers move. Even you move.

A business that remains exactly the same is operating in a world that doesn’t. That’s worth thinking about. Because one of the most dangerous moments in business can actually arrive immediately following success.

When something isn’t working, we’re curious. We investigate. We experiment. We ask questions.

When something works spectacularly, we have a completely different response:

Don’t touch anything!

LOL.

Understandable. But dangerous.

Yesterday’s Answer Can Become Tomorrow’s Problem

This doesn’t mean constantly changing everything. That’s another excellent way to destroy a perfectly good business. There is a difference between reacting to every gust of wind and noticing that the climate is changing.

The business owners I’ve worked with who tend to weather major disruptions aren’t necessarily smarter than everybody else.

They keep looking. They notice anomalies.

    • Why did inquiries drop this month?
    • Why are customers suddenly asking that question?
    • Why are returns increasing?
    • Why did our advertising cost change?
    • Why is this supplier taking longer?
    • Why is everybody suddenly finding us through a channel that barely mattered last year?

Individually, these may mean nothing. Sometimes they are footprints in the sand.

The Early Warning System

You don’t need to live terrified that something will destroy your business. That would be exhausting. You can remain curious instead.

Periodically ask: What are we depending upon that we don’t control?

That’s a magnificent business question.

    • One supplier?
    • One employee?
    • One social platform?
    • One search engine?
    • One customer?
    • One product?
    • One payment processor?
    • One advertising channel?
    • One person who knows how everything works?

Then ask: If that disappeared tomorrow, what would we do?

You don’t necessarily have to do anything. You’re simply looking around. Curiosity is considerably cheaper than panic.

And Then the Desert Appears Anyway

Even with preparation, things happen. You can be diligent, intelligent, diversified, and paying attention… and still get blindsided.

Suddenly, there you are. Sand. Sand. More sand. Now what?

First, don’t automatically assume the business must be saved. That’s important.

Sometimes the price of rebuilding is greater than what you are willing to pay. Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe your priorities have changed. Maybe you’ve already given this business twenty years of your life and the disruption gives you permission to ask a question you’ve secretly wanted to ask for five: Do I even want to do this anymore?

Closing a business isn’t necessarily failure. Sometimes it’s completion.

But if you look at the wreckage and say, “No. I’m not finished yet,” then we have a different conversation.

There Are 200 Ways to Do a Thing

I say this all the time: There are 200 ways to do a thing. Probably more.

The problem is that when Way Number 1 made us successful, we tend to forget Ways 2 through 200 exist.

Supplier disappeared?

There may be another supplier, another material, another design, another manufacturing method, another country, or another product configuration.

Marketing channel collapsed?

There are other channels, audiences, partnerships, messages, referral systems, media, and ways of becoming discoverable.

Product became impossible to sell?

Maybe the knowledge surrounding the product becomes the new product.

Location disappeared?

Maybe the business no longer needs that location.

The original model may be dead while the value underneath it remains very much alive. That’s where recovery often begins.

Not with: How do we put everything back exactly the way it was?

But: What were we really giving people, and what other form could that take now?

That’s a much more interesting question.

Don’t Build Your House in the Sand

This isn’t a solicitation for consulting work. If your business is thriving, I’m delighted. Enjoy it. Celebrate it. Take everybody out for dinner. Just don’t confuse success with permanence.

Occasionally walk around the edges of what you’ve built. Look for cracks. Look toward the horizon. Ask inconvenient questions while you can still afford leisurely answers.

And if you wake up one morning and discover that somehow you’ve wandered into the desert… don’t immediately conclude you’re stranded.

Look around. You have choices. You can decide the journey has cost enough and walk away with your head held high. Or you can start looking for another route.

Because the disappearance of the way you were doing it does not necessarily mean the disappearance of what you were meant to do.

There are 200 ways to do a thing.

You only need to find the next one.

 

Strange Lights in the Sky I Don’t Know What I Saw and That’s Okay

Last night I went outside and looked up. This may have been a mistake.  There was a light moving across the night sky, and I assumed I was looking at an airplane. Nothing unusual about that. Then it moved sideways. Not turned sideways. Moved sideways.

It continued traveling in one direction and then suddenly jumped rapidly on a diagonal before continuing again.

Okay. That got my attention. Then it did it again.

At one point, there was a flash, and the light appeared to jump a considerable distance backward from the direction it had been traveling.

I stood there watching it.

I don’t do drugs. I wasn’t drinking. And unless weather balloons have received a rather impressive technological upgrade, I’m reasonably confident I wasn’t watching one of those.

I don’t know what I saw. There. I said it.

Interestingly, those five words seem extraordinarily difficult for human beings.

I don’t know what I saw.

Not: “It was aliens.”
Not: “It was a secret government spacecraft.”
Not: “It was an airplane and your eyes were playing tricks on you.”
Not even: “David has finally lost it.”

Although you’re certainly entitled to that one. I simply don’t know. And I’ve discovered that not knowing is actually a wonderful place to stand.

I’ve Been Here Before

The strange thing is, this wasn’t my first experience with something behaving oddly in the sky. The last time was more than fifty years ago. I was a youngster living in Astoria, Oregon.

Sometime around 1970, the local radio station DJ, KAST, began talking about reports of strange lights in the sky. Naturally, I went outside.

Then I ran next door because one of the kids had a telescope. The telescope wasn’t much help.

But before long, we didn’t need one. As I remember that night, people started coming out of their houses. Neighbors stood in their yards looking upward. More and more people joined them.

Eventually, it seemed as though everybody was outside watching the show.

And these weren’t simply lights traveling neatly from one horizon to another. They appeared to make abrupt changes in direction.

Things weren’t behaving the way things in the sky were supposed to behave. My recollection is that military aircraft were eventually sent up in response.

I couldn’t wait for the newspaper the next morning. Surely this was going to be front-page news.

At the crack of dawn, the newspaper landed on our porch. Nothing.

I went to school. Some kids laughed when I talked about it. Others had seen it too.

Later, I called KAST. As I remember it, suddenly nobody knew what I was talking about.

That was a peculiar experience for a kid.

And apparently I filed it away somewhere in the cabinet marked:

THINGS I CANNOT EXPLAIN.

I didn’t spend the next fifty years obsessing about it. Life had plenty of other material.

Then Last Night Happened

More than half a century later, I’m standing beneath another night sky watching something I cannot explain.

So, naturally, I did what any modern human being does when confronted by one of life’s mysteries.

I asked a machine. That didn’t go particularly well. I was given several perfectly reasonable explanations for why human perception can be unreliable.

And that’s true. Our eyes can fool us. Our brains fill gaps. Distance is difficult to judge against a dark sky. Lights can appear to move strangely. Atmospheric conditions can create peculiar effects.

All true.

But there’s a funny thing about explanations. An explanation can be possible without being the explanation.

Sometimes we’re so uncomfortable saying “I don’t know” that we’ll grab the nearest plausible answer and promote it immediately to certainty.

That works in both directions.

“Obviously aliens!” Really? How do you know?
“Obviously an optical illusion!” Really? How do you know?

What if we simply left one chair empty for mystery?

Reality Doesn’t Owe Us an Explanation

I think this reaches considerably farther than strange lights in the night sky. We do this everywhere.

Something happens in a relationship. We decide why.
Someone doesn’t return our call. We know what they’re thinking.
A business opportunity collapses. We immediately construct the story explaining what happened.
Someone behaves strangely. Within minutes, we’ve diagnosed their motives, childhood, attachment style, and probably their mother.

Maybe we know. Maybe we don’t.

Reality is an excellent collaborator. It just refuses to rehearse.

There are things we experience that won’t immediately fit inside the filing system we’ve built for the world.

That’s okay.

We don’t have to force them in.

You Don’t Have to Choose a Camp

This may be the most freeing part.

I don’t have to become a UFO guy because I saw something I can’t explain.
I don’t have to buy a telescope.
I don’t have to start a podcast.
I don’t have to build a bunker.
And I don’t have to convince you.

Likewise, I don’t have to pretend I didn’t see what I saw simply because somebody else has a more comfortable explanation for it. I can remain curious. That’s enough.

Maybe somebody reading this knows exactly what I witnessed. Maybe there is a wonderfully ordinary explanation. I’d actually enjoy hearing it. Or maybe I’ll wait another fifty years.

Although at this stage of the game, that particular research strategy may be overly optimistic.

Leave Room for Wonder

I went looking online for the Astoria event I remember from childhood. Years ago, I did find it documented. No such luck today.

Interestingly, there are documented reports of unusual aerial sightings around Astoria from other years. So apparently that little corner of Oregon has had its share of people looking upward and scratching their heads.

Does that prove anything about what I saw? Nope.

And I rather like it that way. Because maybe every unexplained thing doesn’t need to become a belief. Maybe some things can simply become a question.

We can observe carefully. We can investigate. We can consider conventional explanations. We can change our minds when better information arrives. And after we’ve done all that, occasionally we may still be left with three magnificent words: I don’t know.

There is humility there. There is curiosity there. And if we resist filling that empty space too quickly… there might even be wonder.

So, yes. I’ll probably go outside and look at the night sky again. Eventually.

But if anything up there starts jumping backward again… I’m going inside. I’ve got work to do.

God Bless Him. He Made Another Nickel.

My phone rings a lot. I’m a professional, so I answer it.  That’s what you do. It could be a client. It could be someone interested in working with me. It could be something important. So I pick it up. “Hello?” And nine times out of ten… Nothing. A pause. A click. Then: “Hello, this is Jennifer calling about your eligibility for—” Click.

Or someone wants to buy a property I don’t own. Extend the warranty on a vehicle I don’t have. Loan money to a business they know nothing about. Fix my Google listing. Save me from the IRS. Or inform me of some financial catastrophe requiring immediate action involving gift cards.

And somehow they all seem to be calling from a perfectly ordinary local telephone number.

Aargh.

For years, every one of those calls irritated me. Not terribly. Just enough.

That’s the interesting thing about little irritations. They don’t ruin your life. They just take a tiny bite out of it.

Ring. Bite. Ring. Bite. Ring. Bite.

Until one day I decided I needed a better story.

Meet My Imaginary Businessman

In my imagination, I created a friend. Very successful businessman. Great guy. Then he was in a terrible accident. He became quadriplegic. Couldn’t run his company anymore. The business collapsed.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t created much of a financial backup plan for himself. Things got pretty rough. But eventually somebody found him a job.

They positioned him comfortably in front of a computer. The computer watches his eyes. Every time he blinks… it dials another telephone number. And he gets paid a nickel.

That’s it.

Blink. Nickel. Blink. Nickel.

Then one afternoon my phone rang. I answered. There was that familiar little delay. Immediately I knew. Robocall. And instead of getting irritated, I thought:

God bless him. He made another nickel.

Click. I hung up. And smiled.

Nothing Changed

That’s the ridiculous part. Absolutely nothing changed. The calls didn’t stop. The telemarketers didn’t suddenly develop manners. Nobody removed my number from a database. The technology didn’t improve.

My phone still rings. I still answer it. I still hang up.

The only thing that changed was the little movie playing inside my head. And somehow… that was enough.

We Do This All Day Long Anyway

Human beings are meaning-making machines. Someone doesn’t return our text. We make up a story. Someone looks at us strangely. We make up a story. Traffic stops. Story.

Someone walks past without saying hello. Story. Our spouse gets quiet. Oh boy. Story.

Most of the time, we don’t even realize we’re doing it. Something happens… and our mind supplies the meaning.

The fascinating part is that the first story isn’t necessarily any more accurate than the second one.

So if I’m going to make something up anyway… why not occasionally make up something that makes my life better?

I’m not suggesting we ignore reality.

    • If something needs attention, give it attention.
    • If someone is taking advantage of you, deal with it.
    • If you can block the number, block it.

This isn’t about becoming passive. It’s about noticing those little situations where nothing useful is accomplished by becoming irritated.

That’s where imagination can become surprisingly practical.

You Don’t Have to Change Reality to Change Your Experience of It

Sometimes we spend enormous amounts of energy trying to rearrange the world so that we can finally feel better. And sometimes that’s exactly what needs to happen. But occasionally the world doesn’t need rearranging. Maybe the story does.

The crying baby on the airplane? Maybe Mom hasn’t slept in two days and she’s doing the best she can.

The person driving ridiculously slowly in front of you? Maybe he’s carrying a wedding cake.

The cashier taking forever? Maybe it’s her first day.

The person who forgot your name? Maybe they’ve remembered 300 other people’s names this week.

Are any of those stories true? I have absolutely no idea.

That’s not really the point. Neither was the irritated story I was about to tell myself.

We get to participate in the meaning we assign to ordinary life. That’s a remarkable little freedom. And sometimes all it takes is a ridiculous imaginary friend sitting in front of a computer somewhere…

Blinking.

Working hard. Trying to make ends meet.

So these days, when my phone rings and I discover another completely useless solicitation on the other end, I don’t have to surrender even thirty seconds of my day to irritation.

I just hang up. Smile. And think:

There you go, buddy. Another nickel.

Call me anytime.

 

One + One = One: How to Love Someone Without Losing Yourself

I have spent a considerable portion of my life running ahead of people. Not running away from them. Running ahead for them. There’s a difference. Someone would come along who appeared to be headed in roughly the same direction I was going, and I would think, “Wonderful! A traveling companion!” And off I’d go.

I’d invest my time. I’d invest my energy. Sometimes I’d invest my money. I’d make introductions, open doors, solve problems, clear obstacles, and start paving the road ahead because I could see where we were going. Or at least I thought I could.

Eventually, I’d look behind me… and nobody was there.

Apparently, my traveling companion had taken an exit about forty miles back. Ugh.

There I’d be with half a bridge, three miles of freshly paved highway, a depleted bank account, and nobody particularly interested in going where I had worked so hard to make it easier for us to go.

There was camaraderie. There were probably some wonderful memories. But eventually I had to ask myself:

How did I get so far off my own path?

It took me a while, but I finally learned something. Today, I call it:

1 + 1 = 1

It’s a simple step program. You take one step. I take one step. And together, we’ve taken one step. That’s it.

If we’re business partners, friends, collaborators, lovers, family members, coach and client, or two people attempting almost anything together, we can walk side by side for as long as our footsteps continue landing beside each other.

I take a step. You take a step. I take another. You take another. Look at us go. But if I take my next step and yours doesn’t appear beside it, something changes.

I don’t necessarily get angry. I don’t have to judge you. I don’t have to decide that you’re unreliable, lazy, selfish, afraid, broken, or wrong. And I certainly don’t need to chase you down.

I simply stop advancing our shared journey until there is another shared step.

That’s 1 + 1 = 1.

You Are Allowed to Change Direction

This is where things get interesting. You are absolutely allowed to change direction. So am I.

Maybe something changed. Maybe you learned something. Maybe what seemed important six months ago doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe you’ve discovered another road that belongs to you.

Wonderful. Go explore it.

I can love you while you’re over there. I can cheer for you from here. I can even be curious about what you discover.

What I don’t have to do is abandon my road and run after you merely because we were once walking together. That’s a distinction I wish I’d understood much earlier in life.

For years, I sometimes valued maintaining the relationship more highly than maintaining my own direction.

That can feel like love. Sometimes it even looks like love. But there is a subtle question worth asking:

Am I loving this person, or am I abandoning myself to preserve our proximity?

Ouch. There are questions that don’t need to yell to get your attention.

Love Doesn’t Require Pursuit

This becomes especially interesting when unconditional love enters the conversation. I believe unconditional love represents one of the highest expressions available to us.

Most people would love to receive it. Giving it? Well… that’s where things get interesting.

Unconditional love doesn’t mean unconditional participation.

    • You can love someone without financing their latest detour.
    • You can love someone without cleaning up every mess.
    • You can love someone without abandoning your priorities.
    • You can love someone without following them somewhere you do not belong.
    • You can love someone and say, “It looks like you’re going that way now. I love you. I’m still going this way.” Both things can be true.

That’s one of the great freedoms of emotional maturity.

But They May Feel Abandoned

Here’s the tricky part. When you stop chasing someone, they may believe you’ve abandoned them.

From their perspective, you always followed before.

    • You always rescued.
    • You always caught up.
    • You always adjusted your direction.

Then suddenly… you didn’t.

To them, your healthy boundary may initially feel like rejection. That doesn’t make their feelings invalid. Their perspective deserves respect too.

This is where communication becomes important. You might say,

“I’m not abandoning you. I’m honoring the direction you’ve chosen. I’m simply not abandoning my direction in order to follow you.”

That’s a very different message.

There may be angst. There may be misunderstanding. There may even be anger.

People see life from different vantage points.

If we want others to respect ours, it seems reasonable to extend the same courtesy to theirs.

Reframing the Moment

If you’d like to experiment with the 1 + 1 = 1 approach, here are a few reframes that may help.

Instead of: “Why aren’t they doing what they said they would do?”

Try: “Their next step belongs to them.”

Instead of: “I need to get them back on track.”

Try: “I need to remain aware of my own track.”

Instead of: “If I don’t help, everything might fall apart.”

Try: “Maybe reality has something to teach here that doesn’t require my interference.”

Instead of: “They’ve abandoned me.”

Try: “Our paths may have separated for now.”

And this is one of my favorites:

Instead of: “How far am I willing to go for this person?”

Ask: “How far can I go without leaving myself behind?”

That’s a completely different question.

Some 1 + 1 = 1 Boundaries

The step program isn’t a collection of demands imposed upon another person. It’s an agreement you make primarily with yourself.

You might decide:

    • I will not continually invest more effort in a shared goal than the other participant is willing to invest.
    • I will take the next reasonable step without taking someone else’s step for them.
    • I will not repeatedly rescue someone from the natural consequences of changing direction.
    • I will communicate rather than silently punish.
    • I will not use withdrawal as manipulation.
    • I will distinguish between patiently waiting and indefinitely putting my own life on hold.
    • I will allow another person to change their mind without making their change a judgment about me.
    • I will periodically ask whether the journey we’re taking is still genuinely shared.
    • I will remain willing to renegotiate our direction when both of us want to.
    • I will love people without requiring myself to follow them everywhere they go.
    • I will respect their path while protecting mine.
    • If our footsteps meet again, I will decide from the present moment—not from obligation to the past—whether walking together still makes sense.

And perhaps the most important:

I will not confuse chasing someone with loving them.

Look Down Occasionally

Relationships can become complicated very quickly.

We make promises. Circumstances change. People change. We change. Nobody needs to become the villain.

Sometimes two people simply stop walking in the same direction. If that happens, you don’t necessarily need a dramatic ending.

You may only need to look down. There’s your footprint. Is theirs beside it? Wonderful. Take another step.

If it isn’t… you don’t have to panic. You don’t have to chase. You don’t have to condemn. You don’t even have to close the door forever.

You can simply stand where you are long enough to notice what is actually happening.

Maybe they’ll return. Maybe you’ll discover a new direction together. Maybe they’ll wave happily from another road. Maybe someone else will eventually come walking alongside you.

You don’t have to know. You can bless another person’s journey without making it your own. You can love someone tremendously without losing yourself in the process.

And when two people really are headed in the same direction?

One step. One step. One shared movement forward.

1 + 1 = 1.

Funny math.

Pretty good traveling.

 

Maybe You Don’t Need to Ask the Question

There was a time when I placed an enormous amount of importance on people telling me the truth. Honesty. Openness. Integrity. These things mattered to me. They still do. But after nearly a lifetime of being invited into some of the darkest, most private, occasionally unbelievable recesses of people’s lives, I’ve learned something about human beings. People lie. Good people lie. Honest people sometimes lie. People who love you may lie to you.

People lie because they’re afraid. They lie because they’re embarrassed. They lie because they haven’t forgiven themselves yet. They lie because they don’t know how you’ll respond. Sometimes they lie because they don’t know the truth themselves. And sometimes what we call lying is another person desperately trying to protect a room inside themselves that they aren’t ready to open.

That doesn’t make dishonesty good. It doesn’t mean deception should be tolerated when truth is necessary to the health or safety of a relationship. But it has changed the way I ask questions.

These days, before asking someone something deeply personal, I sometimes think:

Would I be disappointed if they lied to me?

That’s an interesting question. Because if the answer is yes, another question immediately follows.

Then do I really need to ask?

Maybe I don’t.

Curiosity Does Not Create Entitlement

We can become curious about something another person has experienced and unconsciously decide that our curiosity gives us a right to know. It doesn’t.

People have sacred spaces. There are memories they may not want to revisit. Experiences they haven’t figured out. Things they regret. Things they don’t understand. Things they may someday tell us. And things they may never tell anyone.

That space belongs to them.

One of the unexpected expressions of wisdom may be learning to stand outside that door without knocking. Not because we don’t care. Because we do.

Every Question Creates a Moment

Suppose there’s something you suspect about someone you love. You could ask.

Maybe they’ll

    • tell you the truth
    • lie
    • tell you half the truth
    • become defensive
    • feel exposed
    • answer honestly and you’ll discover you weren’t prepared for the answer.

Suddenly something that wasn’t damaging the relationship five minutes ago is sitting at the dinner table with both of you.

What did we gain? Sometimes quite a lot.

There are questions that need to be asked. There are things that truly matter, like

    • Safety
    • Consent
    • Commitments
    • Health
    • Finances
    • Faithfulness

Anything materially affecting another person’s ability to make informed choices may require uncomfortable truth.

Love isn’t an excuse for avoiding reality. But there are other questions whose answers change almost nothing. Except perhaps the relationship. Those deserve another moment of consideration.

You Can Leave the Door Open

Something wonderful happens when people discover they don’t have to defend themselves around you. They start talking. Maybe not today. Maybe not next Tuesday. But trust has an interesting way of opening doors that interrogation keeps locked.

You don’t necessarily have to extract someone’s story. You can become a person with whom the story feels safe. That’s different. And it requires patience.

Maybe

    • the answer eventually arrives while you’re driving somewhere
    • it appears over coffee three years later
    • one evening they look at you and say, “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you.”

And because you never demanded it, they’re finally able to give it freely.

Or maybe they never tell you. Then what?

Well…

Did you

    • love them?
    • enjoy their company?
    • laugh together?
    • encourage one another?
    • build something beautiful?
    • become better human beings because you knew each other?

Then perhaps nothing was missing.

Connection Is Not an Investigation

I think we sometimes approach relationships as though intimacy means knowing everything. I’m no longer convinced that’s true.

Maybe intimacy is not having access to every room. Maybe intimacy is knowing there are rooms you haven’t entered and loving the person anyway.

That’s a different kind of trust. It doesn’t require blindness. It requires discernment.

There will always be questions worth asking. There will always be truths worth pursuing. And there will certainly be moments when someone’s deception must be confronted. But wisdom doesn’t only teach us how to ask better questions.

Sometimes wisdom whispers,

You don’t need to ask this one.

Let it go. Give them their sacred space. Keep walking together.

If the answer needs to become part of your relationship, perhaps someday it will. Meanwhile, you’ve protected something precious.

    • Momentum
    • Dignity
    • Safety
    • Connection

The growing confidence that neither person must live under interrogation to remain loved.

Maybe that’s what leading with love occasionally looks like. Not knowing everything. Not demanding everything. Not resolving everything. Just leaving one door closed… and making sure the person on the other side knows they’re still welcome in your life.

FAQ

Should people in a relationship tell each other everything?

Healthy intimacy does not necessarily require complete access to every memory, thought, or experience. People can maintain personal boundaries while remaining loving, honest, and deeply connected.

Is privacy the same as secrecy in a relationship?

Not necessarily. Privacy preserves personal space and autonomy. Secrecy becomes more concerning when withheld information materially affects another person’s choices, safety, commitments, or wellbeing.

Why do people lie when asked personal questions?

Fear, shame, embarrassment, uncertainty, self-protection, and concern about another person’s reaction can all influence how someone responds to a deeply personal question.

How do you know whether to ask a difficult question?

Consider why you need the information and what you intend to do with it. If the answer materially affects safety, consent, health, finances, faithfulness, or an important commitment, the question may need to be asked. If it primarily satisfies curiosity, allowing privacy may sometimes serve the relationship better.

Can giving someone privacy actually build trust?

Yes. Knowing that personal disclosure will not be demanded can create emotional safety. Sometimes people voluntarily share more when they know they are free not to.