I bought a new website domain a few weeks ago.
Have you ever done that? It’s oddly satisfying.
It’s not the first time, nor do I imagine it will be the last time.
What makes it so enjoyable is that it represents potential. For me at least, it is usually sparked by an idea—a specific idea for a new podcast or project or whim. It’s technically an act of creation, to name something and buy a website for it. But it’s not entirely an act of creation. It represents the potential for creation.
As I said, this was a few weeks ago and I’ve done very little outside of thinking about this new idea. But it’s humming inside my mind and my heart, a constant companion as I go through my days and think about what’s left of this year. (There are 65 days, in case you were curious.)
I’ve had plenty of ideas that I’ve never done anything with.
Like opening up a gourmet popsicle cart.
Or creating a dedicated retreat, mindfulness, and meditation space in the city.
Or approximately 23 concepts (and names) for podcasts.
This new website domain, though, has behind it years of learning and growth and experience. That’s not to say it’s a perfect or even wholly original idea—but it feels really meaningful and grounded in who I am and who I’m becoming.
And that makes the idea of moving forward feel really vulnerable.
Brené Brown defines vulnerability as an experience of "uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” That hits the mark.
There is no guarantee this new idea—whether it’s just a website or book or podcast or class—that it will work. It’s uncertain.
There is a certain risk that I’ll spend time, energy, and money and it won’t pan out.
There is absolutely emotional exposure—because to share the things we value and care about feels both uncertain and risky. We want to be liked, we want to be seen as smart and capable. What if my idea isn’t interesting to anyone else? What if it’s not helpful? What if I’m wrong about what I think and believe? These are questions of anxiety.
This is the path for anyone who ever creates anything, big or small.
Tell me, what do you do with your vulnerabilities? How do you acknowledge and accept the uncertainty and the risk that comes with just about anything meaningful you do in life?
For now, I’m moving ahead in fits and starts. Thinking about the core “why” behind the idea, asking myself what I have to offer, and considering who I can best offer my ideas and contributions to. And each day is an opportunity to practice vulnerability, to lean into the uncertainty, to take risks, and to know that the emotional ups and downs aren’t to be avoided—rather, my emotions can guide and even help me confirm what is most important and valuable to me. They inform my experience and help me lean into doing meaningful work. I hope the same for you.
Links to Check Out
We can’t upgrade our lives. We can only live them. Kate is a much-needed voice in our culture.
4 Ways to Honor (or Overwhelm) Your Employees Cognitive Capacity. Good for anyone to be aware of, for themselves and those they work with.
8 Theses on The Cottage Door. I really appreciate Diana’s writing and think these are really thoughtfully put together.
America’s Test Kitchen Pumpkin Bars. ‘Tis the season.
Podcasts
Mixtape: Dakou (Radiolab) Part 1 of a series on how cassette tapes changed and continue to change the world.
Letting Go of the Banana (Radio Headspace) A short reflection on the things that trap us.
Who’s Going? (Reply All) A wild story on how a single TikTok invite led to thousands of randome people showing up for a birthday beach party.
John (Heavyweights) “Before he became a best-selling author, John Green was going to dedicate his life to God. Until he crossed paths with Nick. Twenty years later, John sets off to find Nick and revisit the day that changed the course of both their lives.”
David Sedaris Returns (Armchair Expert) It’s David Sedaris.
For the Road
For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.
And it always assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.
What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.
—Mary Oliver, “Mornings at Blackwater”