There are moments when the whole of you snaps into vivid focus; moments when we stop measuring progress by the incremental steps in any of our separate areas of life.

Moments when our vast abundance reveals itself: That each of these baby steps in our seemingly disparate areas of interest have been compounding upon one another.

The snowflake is now a snow-boulder, and then an avalanche of pure potential.

Every so often it hits you; that you’ve been building something profoundly important and beautiful with all of your time.

All that’s required is for you to:

1)      Realize what your singular contribution means for the rest of us (and)

2)      Do more of that.

Earlier this year I realized I’d been unknowingly locked in battle with myself. It was being fought between the separate silos of my sacred life ingredients, or non-negotiables.

My musical roots despised this guy in a suit, who hated being away from his kids, who didn’t understand what all the meditation was about.

Our non-negotiables define us. We refine them throughout our lives. What took priority in our teens cannot take priority now. However, what took priority in our teens unquestionably contributes to all we have become.

We become convinced that we no longer need our sick baton twirling skills, or love of painting. We think our passions and skills don’t have a place in our “real life”. That it’s our duty to trudge through adulthood and eek by on what market dictates, and in doing so forfeiting all that makes us truly irreplaceable.

Wow, what a flaming sack of dog shit that is.

When we enter the same room our individual and collective history collides. It blends and percolates before dreaming up an improved future. That is why we need to honor all of it. Draw from all of it. Build upon all of it.

My wife, 3 kids & I recently ended up on a cover of a local magazine. It wasn’t so much the ridiculous spectacle of it, or being congratulated by neighbors, although that was cool.

Once the kids were in bed that evening I had to read and re-read the article. My wife had filled out the editor’s questionnaire about our neighborhood and why we live here, what we did for work, the names of our children, and so on.

It was all incredibly quaint.

But as I read, and reread it a second time, more slowly, more deliberately… Cross checking the story against this family on the cover, the avalanche hit.

All I could do was laugh and ask myself was “Is this real life?” Because in my efforts to avoid the obvious potholes— addiction, disconnection, loneliness, empty material success, etc.

I had unknowingly crafted my dream.

This is my church. These are my people. Silhouetted on sky, I see thousands of steeples.

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