When the ground beneath us shakes, we crave stability.

When the heavens open up and rain pours down and we run for shelter.

When life presents us with vagueness, with flashes of possibility, we long for mastery.

It's more instinct than anything else. But could it be that that instinct that we run to, like moths to a flame, is leading us astray,

that it doesn't have our best interests at heart?

Could it be that we're so worried about protecting and maintaining an acceptable image for the world

that we forget to build something internally that's worth protecting?

What if that's shaking is what brings down the foundations that held us back?

What if that rain washes away the limits of yesterday as we evolve into something more?

And what if those flashes of possibility require of us not mastery, no, not yet, but a willingness

to be the fool?

And what if that willingness isn't an unfortunate dead end, but a beginning?

In one of his lectures at the University of Toronto,

Jordan Peterson said, if you are not willing to be a fool, you can't be a master.

In the cycle that is self-discovery, that is growth, we have to at some point step into an arena that's foreign to us, that we don't yet understand.

We have to be willing to operate with inadequate resources, trusting that they'll be picked up along the way. And that's a lot to take in.

It's painful to know that others are going to have knowledge and skills and competencies that you won't.

That you'll willingly inject yourself into the bottom of some hierarchy with nothing more than aspirations.

But that willingness is your vehicle.

And what's clear is that everyone wants the moon, but very few people have the courage to start constructing that spaceship.

Very few have the courage to be the student.

That's why our inclination is to quit when we can't snap our fingers and magically

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