You're right.
Good "technical" writing. But not personal.
Could have been written about anybody.
I get caught in that trap, sometimes.
Maybe I saw my dad not connecting, growing up.
Maybe that's been a part of this, the whole time.
My dad was trying to be a good guy. But his sermons just weren't "hitting hard."
I don't know if he ever cracked the code to the safe.
Maybe I saw that, and I wanted to be more "marketable" when I spoke. I wanted to speak to the masses, since my dad never seemed to figure out that breakthrough.
But then it ends up being a watered-down version of what we're trying to say. And it ends up sounding pretty similar to what a hundred other "well-spoken" writers could write.
_____
Part of me feels like I was who my dad was speaking to, the whole damn time.
And at some point he figured if he could reach one person, then God had a role for him.
And just because his one audience member had the same last name, and kind of looked like him,
that didn't make his job any less significant.
_____
I think he kept trying to connect, his whole career. I think he tinkered with his style, and with his message.
But I think on some level, he knew I was paying attention. He knew I was rooting for him.
I think he knew a lot of people were rooting for him.
I know he knows that now.
_____
There is some quote about regret that I can't remember.
"I don't wish I didn't fail. I wish that I'd failed 10 times as often."
Maybe I made that up. But I feel it.
My regret is not that I fail, whenever I write. My regret is that I don't fail more often.
I hope I fail more often this year.
_____
I wrote in that Happiness book,
"Don't worry about patterns. Patterns emerge."
_____
Patterns are emerging.
I went home trying not to need a picture of my father. I wanted to let patterns emerge.
He was a traveler. He was a visitor. He loved visiting people. He loved driving. He loved flying. He loved one-on-one communication.
He was a lousy preacher. He was a tireless, selfless pastor. He had a gift for spontaneous prayer. He had love for those different than him. He was stubborn and arrogant. He had a gift for helping people transition from this stage to whatever-comes-next.
He was quirky.
He was a nutshell.
_____
Patterns will emerge.
I'm not worried.
We are in mid-flight.
This train has wings, it turns out.
Chaos does not exist. A thing may seem like chaos, from my perspective. Your perspective. His or her perspective.
Perspective creates chaos.
Zoom out. Zoom up. Let go.
Patterns are emerging.
Patterns are here.
Good "technical" writing. But not personal.
Could have been written about anybody.
I get caught in that trap, sometimes.
Maybe I saw my dad not connecting, growing up.
Maybe that's been a part of this, the whole time.
My dad was trying to be a good guy. But his sermons just weren't "hitting hard."
I don't know if he ever cracked the code to the safe.
Maybe I saw that, and I wanted to be more "marketable" when I spoke. I wanted to speak to the masses, since my dad never seemed to figure out that breakthrough.
But then it ends up being a watered-down version of what we're trying to say. And it ends up sounding pretty similar to what a hundred other "well-spoken" writers could write.
_____
Part of me feels like I was who my dad was speaking to, the whole damn time.
And at some point he figured if he could reach one person, then God had a role for him.
And just because his one audience member had the same last name, and kind of looked like him,
that didn't make his job any less significant.
_____
I think he kept trying to connect, his whole career. I think he tinkered with his style, and with his message.
But I think on some level, he knew I was paying attention. He knew I was rooting for him.
I think he knew a lot of people were rooting for him.
I know he knows that now.
_____
There is some quote about regret that I can't remember.
"I don't wish I didn't fail. I wish that I'd failed 10 times as often."
Maybe I made that up. But I feel it.
My regret is not that I fail, whenever I write. My regret is that I don't fail more often.
I hope I fail more often this year.
_____
I wrote in that Happiness book,
"Don't worry about patterns. Patterns emerge."
_____
Patterns are emerging.
I went home trying not to need a picture of my father. I wanted to let patterns emerge.
He was a traveler. He was a visitor. He loved visiting people. He loved driving. He loved flying. He loved one-on-one communication.
He was a lousy preacher. He was a tireless, selfless pastor. He had a gift for spontaneous prayer. He had love for those different than him. He was stubborn and arrogant. He had a gift for helping people transition from this stage to whatever-comes-next.
He was quirky.
He was a nutshell.
_____
Patterns will emerge.
I'm not worried.
We are in mid-flight.
This train has wings, it turns out.
Chaos does not exist. A thing may seem like chaos, from my perspective. Your perspective. His or her perspective.
Perspective creates chaos.
Zoom out. Zoom up. Let go.
Patterns are emerging.
Patterns are here.
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