Developing a Better You

Month: September 2025

Hope is an Axe

Sometimes four words can stop your heart:

HOPE IS AN AXE.

Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency.

Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark: The Untold History of People Power

I’m a big fan of hope. I’ve thought about, cultivated, and written about it often (you can read those posts here, here, and here). But I’d never thought of hope in such a forceful way, like a weapon to cut through the morass of doubt, fear, and cynicism that surrounds us. It changes hope from a fragile, ephemeral feeling to a rugged, dependable tool.

That perspective on hope is mirrored in the response author, actor, and musician Nick Cave gave to a fan who presented him with a question I’m sure many of us have asked ourselves:

“Do you still believe in us human beings?”

Nick’s answer paints a sharp-edged view of hope:

Much of my early life was spent holding the world and the people in it in contempt. It was a position both seductive and indulgent. The truth is, I was young and had no idea what was coming down the line. It took a devastation to teach me the preciousness of life and the essential goodness of people. It took a devastation to reveal the precariousness of the world, of its very soul, and to understand that the world was crying out for help. It took a devastation to understand the idea of mortal value, and it took a devastation to find hope.

Unlike cynicism, hopefulness is hard-earned, makes demands upon us, and can often feel like the most indefensible and lonely place on Earth. Hopefulness is not a neutral position — it is adversarial. It is the warrior emotion that can lay waste to cynicism.

Each redemptive or loving act, as small as you like — such as reading to your little boy, showing him something you love, singing him a song, or putting on his shoes — keeps the devil down in the hole. (Hope) says the world and its inhabitants have value, and are worth defending. It says the world is worth believing in. In time, we come to find that this is so.

Nick Cave

When you feel torn by the strain of the world, when people around you surrender to their shadow side, when cynicism sings its siren song, set your feet. Reach down deep. Heft the axe of hope. Slam its love-hardened blade into your anger, your despair, your fear. If you do, the sun will blaze through the rend in the darkness, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

This post was originally published August 24, 2024.

The Freedom of Finding Your True Self

One of the main reasons I started this blog in 2017 was to map my own journey toward finding my true identity. The real me. My deep self. Who I am apart from the various fleeting hats I wear. Teacher and author Richard Rohr has been an important part of that journey. In his recent Daily Meditation from the Center for Action and Contemplation, he spoke so compellingly on that topic that I wanted to share it with you. Regardless of where you fall on the spiritual spectrum, I believe there are meaningful insights here that I hope will help you on your own journey toward Becoming Yourself.

We shall not cease from exploration / And the end of all our exploring / Will be to arrive where we started / And know the place for the first time.

T. S. Eliot, four quartets

In the Everything Belongs podcast, Father Richard speaks about the spiritual path that winds both away from and toward one’s true home:  

The first going out from home we can say is the creation of the ego. While this is a necessary creating, it is also the creating of a separation. It’s taking myself as central. We probably need to do that, at least until we reach middle age. But then we need to allow what we’ve created to be uncreated. Maybe I was a great basketball player, but that’s gone now. Or maybe I was good-looking, but that’s gone now.  

When we can say “yes” to that uncreation and still be happy, we’ve done our work. My True Self is in God and not in what I’ve created. My self-created self gave me a nice trail to walk on, and something to do each day, but it isn’t really me. It might be my career or my vocation; yet as good as it is, it isn’t my True Self.  

In the metaphor of life as a journey, I think it’s finally about coming back home to where we started. As I approach death, I’m thinking about that a lot, because I think the best way to describe what’s coming next is not “I’m dying,” but “I’m finally going home.” I don’t know what it’s like yet, but in my older age I can really trust that it is home. I don’t know where that trust comes from or even what home is like, but I know I’m not going to someplace new. I’m going to all the places I’ve known deeply. They’re pointing me to the big deep, the Big Real. I do think homecoming is what it’s all about. [1] 

Father Richard continues to reflect upon finding his home in God in this season of his life:  

Well first, I have to say, I don’t fully know how to live there. I’m used to living for 80 years out of building an education, a persona, a reputation, a career. When we’ve worked at those things for so long, on a very real level we don’t know how to live without them. But thank God, they’re taken away from us. God slows us down, I think necessarily, or we won’t fall into the True Self.  

My understanding of the second half of life is mostly homesickness for the True Self. I want to learn to be who God really created me to be. And I think all God wants me to be is who I really am. [2]  

This post was originally published on May 11, 2024. As shared in the May 6, 2024 Daily Meditation from the Center for Action and Contemplation (cac.org) [1] Adapted from Mike Petrow, Paul Swanson, and Richard Rohr, “Tips for the Road,” Everything Belongs, season introduction, ep. 5 (Albuquerque, NM: Center for Action and Contemplation, 2023), podcast. Available as MP3 audio and PDF transcript.  [2] Adapted from Mike Petrow, Paul Swanson, and Richard Rohr, “The Two Halves of Life with Brené Brown,” Everything Belongs, season 1, ep. 1 (Albuquerque, NM: Center for Action and Contemplation, 2024), podcast. Available as MP3 audio and PDF transcript.

Want a Full Life? Balance the New and the Familiar

Nomadic life is a wise teacher.

In 2024, my wife Lisa and I sold our home and most of our possessions and for the last 14 months have lived nomadically. We stay in hotels, AirBnbs, on cruise ships, and with friends and family all over the world.

This lifestyle is bursting with benefits—freedom, spontaneity, low fixed expenses, no home maintenance, and meeting interesting people in fascinating places while having new experiences across the globe.

But there are drawbacks—transition days (waking up in one place, going to sleep in another) are hard, we miss having a place with our favorite furniture and decor, and time-consuming travel planning is tedious.

Now in year two of this journey, we’re learning to lean into the benefits and better manage the drawbacks. We’re “building our nomadic muscles” as one nomadic writer put it, and figuring out what works for us. There’s no one way to do this lifestyle.

One of the lessons I’m learning is the need to balance the new and the familiar. We spent much of this past summer traveling in Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England, and the Netherlands. We explored new places, took new hikes, ate new foods, met new people. My heart and mind were stretched by different cultures and perspectives. It was exhilarating, eye-opening, wonderful. 

It was also tiring. After a while, it felt like I couldn’t absorb any more “newness.” I found myself craving the familiar.

We’re spending the next few months back in our former home state of Arizona in the US, staying with dear friends and pet sitting for several repeat clients in a neighborhood we love.

And it feels good. Right. Needed. Grounding. I can already feel my shoulders relaxing, my mind settling, my breath deepening, my energy returning.

The lesson I’m learning is this—I need the new for growth, excitement, and freshness. I need the familiar for stability, refocus, and renewal. For a full life, the beauty is in the balance.

How’s your balance? Is your life feeling boring or stale? Seek freshness in a new place, a new relationship, a new hobby, a new routine. Are you feeling overly stretched and road-weary? Seek familiarity in a comforting place, a grounding relationship, a beloved routine. Balance the new with the familiar. If you do, you’ll enjoy a full, energized life, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.

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