Tag Archives: gut instinct

Heart of a Lion

What does it take to summon the strength to exceed and excel? Is the will to be great born from some deep-seated desire to prove ourselves wrong by pushing our own definitions of limits? Or is the pull to persevere in the face of adversity a hardwired, coded blueprint tattooed on our baby blank canvases before we even have the chance to decide?

If the shake and toss of those circumstantial dice fuels a fire to fight the gremlins guarding the gate, it stands to reason that those dealt the worst cards would be the first to spit in the face of misfortune. But we have seen countless examples of people who quickly succumb under the weight of far less. I guess a steady tolerance for intolerance might be perceived as noble when viewed in the light of some convenient kaleidoscopic colors.

However, convenience and comfort can’t generally breed champions.

Grit and gumption. Whether it is in our personal lives, friendships, relationships, careers, or private checklist achievements, a fire in the belly and a couple of nagging stones in the soles of our shoes can be wonderful kicks in our collective ass. But forcing someone’s hand into action as a better way to walk a particular path will most likely engender animosity, resistance, and ultimately, insufficient results.

Listen to that whispering gut instinct and follow it blindly. We have only been gifted one compass…and it’s internal.

Stoke your own fire. Blaze your own trail. Burn down the notion of boredom. Life’s too short for backseat lazing. 

Adolescence Interrupted

Just Beyond the Barrier


“The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.”  ―Molière

The mouse maze would be a lot more manageable with a bird’s-eye view, and those towering peaks in the distance have done a nice job of blocking out the sun. Seeing the path unfold at my feet in inch increments, while tripwires and banana peels snicker at my cautious discretion, has made me wish more than once for the gift of flight.

If I could only elevate to see what’s waiting around that next bend, perhaps I could find comfort in the soft center of the present moment, even temporarily. Just a few precious minutes without the sense of an approaching sandstorm would feel like drops of water on the tongue of a desert wanderer.

But as I attempt to maneuver, jockeying for position among a throng of marathoners, my trusty compass abandons true north, testing my resilience and trying my patience. How many times must I substantiate my intent as the lake freezes, leaving me sliding around in socks instead of skates?

I am defined by my defiance, then and now, and no flash of light or fake whiff of cheese will divert me from finding that finish line.

This mouse is more method than instinct, and the only footsteps to follow are the ones I leave behind.

Adolescence Interrupted