We stayed in touch over the years, Miami, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, New York (Rome soon?), our friendship has seen more cities than many people have.

I distinctly remember that our friendship grew out of great conversations, from Miami, to Facebook, then the phone, talking about God, our families and our dreams. A 19 and 21-year-old musing about what they saw for their futures. Me, I was going to be an attorney, wear suits and pumps everyday. Long hours–successful, and black, and a woman. Him, although a remarkable artist (note to him: “paint me something!”) with a penace for style, was going to be a corporate executive.  We imagined good-upstanding-young-educated-minority-futures ahead of us.

8 years later, I’ve quit my job as an attorney and moved to New York to write (cliche’ I know). He has just launched and designed an exquisite leather and denim brand. We are both very happy. We are also optimistically uncertain about what the future will bring (hopefully more of what it has delivered lately).

Sitting, sharing, and remembering with him and many old friends always reminds me that time transforms. That who we are today can be so very different than who we will be tomorrow. That we have the power to make choices to change our lives or simply our minds. And that really, we have no way of knowing where we will be in 10, 20, 30 years. Sure we have plans, but if we’re really lucky, very blessed, things will be a lot different than what we’ve been able to dream up thus far.

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In the face of the impossible, in the place where we struggle between the whys and hows, is precisely the space in which we can be our best possible selves. The space in which who we choose to be matters the most.

What happens, the impossible or tragic, the unbelievable or bad, there is always an opportunity to grow and perhaps that is the reason for which everyone says, “these things happen”.

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There’s a lesson there somewhere.

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Sure, many of us have subscribed to the idea that sometimes in order to grow we will experience pain, make sacrifices. But we often view this truth as a passive event, usually coming in hindsight. We often cut ourselves off from our best selves by avoiding the discomfort when we see it coming.

But in the case of what must be done, occasionally we may have to willingly, with good judgment and great determination, step into the “pain”. The pain of very long hours spent on a particular project,  the sometimes heavy and unbearable fear of the unknown, the pain of letting go of the familiar things in our lives that no longer serve us, or the horror of positioning ourselves for criticism. Too often we associate good with feel good. Sometimes, what is best for us may feel anything but good in the moment.

Sometimes to get where we must, our best option, the choice to be made by our best selves, is to dive with arms outstretched, cutting through fridget water, entire bodies submerged, cold stabbing like daggers, feet propelling forward until we get to the other side.

Know there is another side. Carry on with what must be done.

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What the wise (and I would not call myself this) have in common are the experiences (and/or mistakes, shortcomings, stumbles, flaws, etc.) which endow the wisdom.

I have felt the sinking disappointment that comes with building my belief in a thing or an idea at the feet of another. The greatest ideas, bits of wisdom, and beliefs are too great, too magnificent to rest with one person. Up close the prolific are less perfect, and it is their human right to be just that.

I have learned to ere on the side of idolizing the wisdom rather than the wise.

Sidenote: If you care to listen in and are fancy enough to have Sirus Radio, I’ll be on Cosmo Radio on 4/22 during the 11am hour. I’ll be talking a little bit about what I know and a little more about what I am unsure of (which is a whole lot more fun!)

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The idea was that I would roll out of bed at 5:30 am, put on my gym clothes, grab a bag packed the night before and head to the gym each morning. I used to do this every morning when I lived in Chicago. But in New York, this didn’t happen. Instead each morning when I hit the snooze button for the seventh time, an early morning spatering of guilt entered my body, resting just below the small gut threatening to form. And because I had decided to do this thing that I was not going to do, I was not working out at all.

We often have this vision of how things used to be, could be, or should be that simply does not align with who we are presently. And because we are ambitious beings we struggle against the idea of “giving up” where struggle is simply not necessary. Giving up a particular path to a thing is not the same as giving up on the thing itself.

The goal was fitness. Running each morning in Central Park (which is 6 blocks from my home) works just as well as dragging myself to the gym. Different hole (behavior yourself kids), same result.

If things aren’t working out, you may simply want to change your approach to the thing. It is a new adult trick I’m just now wrapping my head around.

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Whatever you’re doing right NOW, stop and answer this question: Is this getting me closer to the mountain?

Note to self: This is for me.

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I’ve found that asking or requesting what we need from others often comes guised as something else because the asking requires us to be vulnerable, honest and most importantly aware of ourselves. So we cover the asking with an accusation, like a “you’re not paying attention” rather than a “I want your opinion on this”. Or as a “you didn’t stick up for me” rather than a “I need your assurance that you’re on my side”. Or the need  often comes under the cloak of a proclamation. Such as a “I have this thing that you will love” rather than a “I want you to love this thing.” And as a “I’m leaving, I can’t work here anymore” rather than a “can you do this, because I want to stay”. It’s the horrible game of read my mind, you know what I mean.

Making accusations and proclamations tends to feel a lot safer than making honest requests, asking for what we need, and explaining why we want it. The problem is, the accusations and proclamations usually get no one anywhere and no needs get met.

Good luck with that.

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In the last few months the description of what I “do” has lost commas, periods, and conjunctions describing the past. Just last month “but I’m licensed to practice law” was carved off from the end with great trepidation.

This week I was offered two copywriting jobs, and another essay writing job with absolutely no solicitation. And a friend asked me to look over the copy for a website she is launching because her husband looked at her and said, “Danielle needs to look at this, she’s a writer.”

To be 100% honest, saying I’m a writer still feels more like a proclamation of a hope than a truth. But how interesting is it to see what power a proclamation has been in assisted in making a thing true.

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Within the last month, I have had one friend launch a flawlessly designed denim brand, two others debut a boldly constructed  jewelry line, two others expand the operatons of their non-profit organizations to new states, and another release one of the most critically acclaimed novels of the years. I have had the pleasure of watching these successes unfold from a front row seat, Reese’s Pieces‘ and popcorn in hand.

I really have the greatest love and admiration for my “crew”. But an important lesson I’ve learned is that we must remain vigilant against mistakenly believing in greatness purely by association.

Celebrate the work of others, but not at the expense of your own. I think that sometimes when those we love succeed it feels comparable to our own success, as it should. But  I’ve often noticed that some are paralyzed by that feeling, inhaling it as their own (see, rap artist posse member) using it as an distraction from the work before them.

Let the successes of those you love be served to you  in equal parts admiration and motivation. Don’t let the feeling of being associated with greatness cut you off from your own, instead it should be the very thing that nourishes your ambition.

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