The "Leap of Faith" Fallacy ~ guest post by drew mohoric

We're continuing our guest series on chasing your dreams with a post from my friend Drew Mohoric. It was in Drew's living room this past June watching the NBA finals and talking about life where I started down the path that would lead me to the conclusion that I can't fear making the wrong choice so much that it paralyzes me and I make no choices at all.

Drew's become one of those necessary friends in my life—the type of person who lives his life with conviction and inspires me to do the same. His thoughts on the "leap of faith" fallacy are so good—I hope they hit you as they've hit me.

Drew recently quit his corporate job to embark on a Learning Adventure and build Dream Bootcamp. He is a co-founder of Innoblue, former analyst at Accenture, and proud supporter of HPCD in Haiti.

***

Four weeks ago I took a “leap of faith” to pursue the thing I've most enjoyed in the past five years—helping others grow and develop in pursuit of their dreams.

Anyone who knows me can attest to my unquenchable thirst for knowledge and the fact that many moments this past year left me utterly parched. As any longing man would, I ran to a firehose once I found an opportunity to satisfy my craving.

Accordingly, I quit my job on September 27^th and hopped on a plane to chase some dreams of my own, in preparation for the thing—my mission. That plane landed in Germany, where I’m stationed for three months on a learning adventure in front-end web design, photo editing, and video editing.

Endless quotes in the public domain offer dreamers the inspiration necessary to make the “leap of faith” into the unknown, promising success to those who live passionately and follow their dreams. While these clichés are important in generating the energy required to overcome fears and apprehensions, they can be misleading and even damaging when taken out of context.

For most of us, our dreams must be seasoned with a heavy dose of pragmatism, planning and preparation.

That is to say that the “leap of faith” is not the beginning of the pursuit, but rather the climax.

In 2009, before I even knew my greatest strengths or passions, I started taking specific, actionable steps towards personal growth and development. Surrounding myself with movers and shakers (i.e. Innoblue). Serving in leadership (i.e. Beta). Volunteering (i.e. HPCD). Expanding my global and cultural perspectives (i.e. Schreyer). Reading widely. Diversifying my skills. Seeking mentorship. Deepening the roots of my faith.

Whenever I discovered an amazing environment or opportunity, I moved in that direction. The organizations I joined, the books I read, the courses I took…all part of my preparation, digging a foundation for the future. And what was the best part? The amazing friends and communities I met in the process.

One thing I know to be true is that by doing the things you love, you’ll meet people you love.

As time passed, more pieces of my life vision started to fit together and the greater picture grew increasingly clear. From coaching to mentoring, teaching to consulting, writing to public speaking, I realized my passion is to foster personal growth and development in others. As this realization surfaced in March 2012, I embraced it and sought ways to accelerate my momentum.

However, at two months away from graduation, I was realistically not ready to take a “leap of faith.” With school debt to pay, professional experience to be gained, and a lack of desired technical skills, I opted to stay the course of digging my foundation (i.e. work my corporate consulting job, pay off debt, save money).

From 2012-2013, I used every non-work moment available to stay on my mission and continue to put myself in a position to make the “leap of faith” when the opportunity was ripe. Fast forward 15 months and I’d checked the boxes—debt paid, money saved, experience gained, confidence established. What missing elements remain? Desired technical skills and a ripe opportunity.

So that’s where I stand as of October 24th , 2013. I’m studying in Germany for 3 months to bridge my technical skills gap and I’m now building something that I genuinely believe will help millions of people take actionable steps towards the discovery and realization of their dreams. Few things are as liberating as working and living with a passionate community in pursuit of a common goal…I’m stoked!

The chief purpose of this monologue is to discourage blind acceptance of the “leap of faith” fallacy. You don’t have to quit your job, move to a new location, or take any other drastic, knee-jerk measures to pursue your dreams. All growth and development takes time, patience, and training.

Doctors must train.

Athletes must train.

Writers must train.

Everyone must train.

This is the proven model and has been since the Middle Ages. In the words of rags-to-riches icon Jim Rohn, “Success is steady progress toward one's personal goals.”

So dream boldly. Figure out your roadmap. Eliminate distractions. Surround yourself with amazing community. Master the necessary skills. I bet there is a good chance you’re already on the path there.

Dream forward, Drew

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Monday Confessional, 10.21.13

Welcome to Monday Confessional, where I spill my beans about something I did, thought, or think I thought I did over the last week/weekend. I confess: I have someone very talented doing PR for me.

He runs my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts. He double- and triple-checks my emails to make sure they're just the right blend of getting down to brass tacks and lightening the mood with humor. He even dresses me in the morning and fixes loose strands of hair that haven't submitted to the sticky will of my hair gel.

Yes, my PR man is me. Myself. I work very hard, almost around the clock, at this public relations gig.

Which is funny because I'm pretty quick to point the finger and accuse famous people in the public eye for being hollow--shiny, positive PR on the outside and not a lot of substance inside.

Maybe I'm still, even a year later, fatigued from the last presidential campaign and election season. Everything seemed to be about scoring points in the public eye--whether it was kissing a baby, showing up at a factory to hang out with workers, or bringing up a tearjerker story about a single mom down on her luck. All for voting appeal.

It's why I can't help but be skeptical when I see any celebrity doing something "nice" in public. One part of me wants to believe in the best in people, and another part of me thinks, She's got a great PR machine running behind her. 

Even when one of my heroes, Hines Ward, put up the post I wrote about him on his Facebook page with a personal message, I had to wrestle and question his intention a little bit. He could be a great guy, or he could have a smart PR person. (My guess is that it's probably both.)

The problem with trying to judge people's intentions is that it's nearly impossible. I can't sit here and actually determine if what someone's doing is only for good publicity or a genuine extension of their character. It's hard to tell PR from the real thing.

Take me for example.

Every photo I post, every thought I write, every saying I quote on social media builds the image of me that I want you to see.

Let's peruse some pictures, shall we?

I want you to think I'm adventurous.

I want you to think I'm funny.

I want you to think I'm spiritual.

I want you to think I'm a dreamer. That I'm brave.

The truth is that I really am some of those things. But the truth also is this:

I'm boring most of the time.

I'm probably more funny-looking than I am funny, but you wouldn't know it because of the time I spend on both to convince you otherwise.

I post reminders about faith not to remind you but because I need it that bad.

I'm afraid. I'm so afraid of making my dreams happen that I often sit paralyzed instead of taking the next step.

It's not that I'm trying to be fake. I want to be genuine--I try desperately to do be that. I think much of what you see of me on social media is what I'm constantly struggling and striving to be. Then there is the version of me, that human and mistake-prone and imperfect person, that sometimes only I see, or my friends or coworkers who actually spend time with me can experience and know.

So don't be fooled by my PR--not all that glitters is gold.

But I hope you join me in the space between the polished, ideal version of me you see on social media and the very human, boring, and sometimes afraid version of me that only I get to see at 11:00 p.m. on my couch.

Strive with me to be the best "us" we can be--to be so bold as to hope for adventure, and faith, and courage. Join hands with me, and let's pick each other up when we inevitably fail to meet that standard.

Whether it makes for good PR or not.

***

Anyone else struggle with how to be genuine on social media?

Fresh from LA: Lessons I've Learned ~ guest post by ashley blevins

Something I've been especially passionate about as of late is the idea that life is short--too short to put off chasing our dreams, to live in fear of the unknown or of failure. Which is why I'm excited for this post from Ashley Blevins. I'm starting a series of guest posts, which Ashley's kicking off,  from people and friends who are in various stages of going after their dreams. Hopefully, we can inspire you to dream, act on those dreams, and set yourselves free from whatever's holding you back. 

Ashley's a dear friend who recently moved out to Los Angeles with her husband Nate and some friends to pursue her dream of being a writer. I asked her to write about what she's learned in the process of actually taking the first steps toward making her dream happen.

She's the co-founder, -writer, -funny person at The Baby Bangs. You can find her there, or follow The Baby Bangs on Twitter, or just follow her on Twitter.

I couldn't be more excited for her as she begins this awesome adventure in LA, or for you to read this post. Enjoy.

***

I was really excited when Paul gave me the chance to write this because it caused me to stop and think about how insane the last couple months of my life have been.

Allow me to give you a real quick summary of things and where I am at with them: I’m a 26-year-old female human that recently moved 3,000+ miles across the country. I’ve worked solely in retail for my entire “professional” career, and on an unrelated note, I’ve been miserable for my entire “professional” career. I love to write. I’m an AMAZING watcher of any and all television screens. I am only capable of remembering useless pop culture trivia.

So the next logical step was obviously to move to California. By my logic, if I’m going to be a struggling (emphasis on the struggling) writer slowly working towards being the comedic writing genius that I want to be, I might as well do it here. It’s a dream that I never thought I would come close to.

I’m a small town bumpkin. It feels like I’m on vacation. I have no idea what I’m really doing. I spent months going back and forth from smiling until my face hurt to crying hysterically in the middle of the night wondering if I am making a huge mistake.

Here are a couple of things I have learned during this experience thus far. They’ve meant a lot to me and it feels good to get them out. I’m still working them out. You’re still reading? You’re amazing. Have at it.

1. Learn to be unapologetic about the things that you know you want to do.

It took me a long time to be able to tell people that I wanted to work my way into writing and/or performing as a career. And even then, putting the idea out in the open isn’t as easy as it sounds. I mean…I guess it could be for some people.

But not so much for me.

I have friends who are (ACTUAL REAL LIFE) doctors, teachers, and business bigwigs. People who have delivered babies in other countries and record albums for bands we’ve all listened to. This might sound like bragging until you remember that I’m telling you I know all of these people to prove the point that compared to them I know NOTHING.

I’ve worked in spotty retail jobs here and there without a real commitment for years. So saying to these people “I think I’m going to move to LA and try this thing” was terrifying to me. Usually it would turn into a conversation of “Well if you can’t do it now when can you?” and “It’s an exciting opportunity” when really all I had to say was I really want to give this thing a go.

Realizing that I don’t have to justify the choice to any person I come in contact with has been freeing.

2. Take note of whose opinion REALLY matters.

Once I got up the nerve to say this is what I wanted, a slew of opinions came rushing in:

• “You’re going to hate California. I’ve lived there. I give you six months tops. You’ll be back.”

• “Why? It’s so expensive. Good luck figuring out how to deal with those taxes.”

• “Ugh, the traffic.”

• “Couldn’t you just try to do that in New York? Then you wouldn’t be leaving your family behind.”

• “You’re crazy.”

But guess what? None of that matters when you have people who mean the most to you and whose voice you hear the loudest supporting you.

When your parents start making plans to visit before you even leave. When your Dad drives a moving truck across the country to help.

Most importantly, when you have a husband willing to completely change his job, move everything you own and start all over again somewhere he’s never even been so you can try and get your chance. If you take the time to think about it, it’s easy to remember whose opinion you should actually take into consideration.

3. Take time to realize what you’re actually afraid of.

It’s also taken me a while to realize the fear I was experiencing involving this move might be a little more complicated than I had originally thought.

It would be perfectly natural and normal to be scared of moving to a new state a million miles away, regardless of the reason why. Starting a new job and moving are two super easy ways to convince everyone you’re an absolute monster after the stress starts to eat you alive. The trick is to realize you could be feeling this fear for more than just those reasons.

In the countless hours spent panicking about this upcoming life change, I realized another reason I was so paranoid was because I was more afraid of what could happen if I applied myself rather than what wasn’t going to happen when I got here. Because getting here is a huge part of the battle. Making friends with like-minded people, who are also ambitious about writing or performing or trying to be funny, can’t set me back; it can only help me grow.

So maybe I needed to focus on turning that fear into excitement for new opportunities. It’s definitely scary and I’m going to be shot down more times than not, but it’s also a pretty insane learning experience that I just couldn’t get prior to this move.

Do I have everything together? Absolutely not. I started a new job this week I’m hoping won’t make me want to bang my head against a wall every morning.

I need to save up money to be able to live before I can sign up for the classes I want to take.

I have to figure out more ways to show my husband how thankful I am that he’s willing to tag along for this ride.

I need to remember to wear sunscreen and to bring reusable totes every time I go to the store. A lot of ground to cover.

It’s getting there. I’m getting there.

I hope you are too.

***

Keep up with Ashley and her love of pop culture at The Baby Bangs.

Which of these lessons resonates the most with you? Talk to us.

You Have Done Enough

"If you were a real man, you would be able to fix this. You haven't done enough yet." I'm not sure who said this to me, or when. Maybe it was more than one person. Maybe it was multiple times. Maybe it was never said at all--just inferred, interpreted, or perhaps completely imagined.

Regardless of how it made its way in, that message has found a home in my thought process, bonded itself to my DNA. I find myself automatically thinking, "I have to fix this. I can fix this. I have to do more." As if I've been programmed. Or I suffer from compulsion.

When there's a problem, I have to fix it. I have to do more. When there's a rock in the way, sitting in the middle of the road in front of me, I do everything to remove it.

I brainstorm. I problem solve. I make calculations. I derive solutions. I execute. (Like a boss, I might add.)

Then, the problem goes away. The rock gets tossed aside. That's the way it works. It works for MacGyver, it works for Jack Bauer, and it works for me. I dust off my hands, I eat a sandwich, and I take a victory nap. It's what I do--I fix the problem, and I fix it hard.

All is as God and the universe intends it.

Until I realize the problem is still there. The rock is back in the road. And it's bigger this time--heavier, taller, less prone to budge.

It's okay, though. I'm a man, and men fix things. A little elbow grease should do the trick. I roll up my sleeves and grit my teeth. I push, and I pull. I stomp, and I growl.

The tiny beads of sweat gathering on my forehead start to betray me.

The rock remains, seeming even larger than before. It towers above me now.

Curse words. Balled-up fists. This is an affront to my manliness.

I.

will.

fix.

this.

And I begin to do more. Because that is the solution: more effort, more of myself, more bravado.

I grasp the rock with both hands, with ghost-white knuckles, and push until my back and chest burn, and my arms and legs scream until they're shaking like baby pines in a high wind.

I take a step back, square my shoulders, grind the ball of my foot into the ground, and sprint at full-speed toward the rock now. I collide with it. No movement. But I have to fix this. I have to do more. And so I slam into it again, my bone on its unforgiving stone. And I slam into it again. And again. And again.

I sink to my knees in the shadow of this huge rock, having bludgeoned myself almost beyond recognition.

It's there that a voice says to me,

"You can't fix this. There is no more you can do."

Even in my crumpled, bloody state, I don't believe it. My fingers scrape along the surface of the rock to find a hold, and I begin to lift myself to my feet.

But even the rock's shadow has become too heavy for me. I fall to my knees again.

You can't fix this.

There is no more you can do.

There are times in life when we have to dive in and get our hands dirty. We have to problem solve, think of a solution, and take care of the rock in the road before us.

Then there are times when those of us that are stubborn, that are proud, that are too self-reliant need to recognize that we can't fix everything. We can't do everything. Some jobs are God's to handle, or even someone else's to handle, but not ours.

Sometimes, in trying to fix a problem we weren't meant to fix, we break ourselves.

It has taken me a long, long time to understand and accept this simple phrase, to even allow myself to hear the words and let them fall on my heart like a light spring rain:

You can't do anything more.

You have done enough.

You are enough.

Let go.

Truth and Consequences: Breaking Bad

So many times when I've talked about Breaking Bad around friends who don't watch the show, they've given me some kind of look or comment. The message I've gotten from them, both real and perceived? "You watch a show about crystal meth? And a guy who makes it?" Oh, how judgment burns sometimes.

For a while I felt a little guilty that I loved the show as much as I did--I mean, it was, after all, a show about crystal meth and a guy who makes it. Every week I was watching someone cook it, deal it, smoke it, snort it, lie about it, and/or kill because of it.

Frankly, isn't this the kind of show I should be boycotting? I'm on staff at a church. And I'm a teacher. How many times have I talked to my kids about avoiding drug culture at all costs? How many times have I lamented that movies and television glorify issues like drug use, senseless violence, gang culture, and the abuse of sexuality? How can I sit here with a clean conscience and love a show that does all that?

Here's the thing, though:

Breaking Bad doesn't glorify any of that.

I have a friend named Denny--he's the one who pushed me to watch the show in the first place, and then pushed me again when I almost stopped watching late in Season 2--who explained  to me late one night at his place why this show is so great. It's also explains how Breaking Bad is a show about meth and a guy who makes it but doesn't glorify it. As soon as he said it, I knew it was true:

Consequences.

Bad behavior in the show produces real, gritty, heart-wrenching consequences.

Not like in every superhero movie where Ironman or another tights-clad protagonist grapples with some combination of demi-god, monster, or experiment-gone-wrong jumbo villain and brings buildings crumbling down around them and blowing up just about everything in sight. After said villain is vanquished, our hero is triumphant and the world goes back to normal. Oh, except half of New York City is in ruins. What about that? What about the ensuing economic crash? What about the slow, painstaking rebuilding process?

Oh, we could go down the list of TV shows, even the gritty ones, where little consequence takes place. On the other hand, you know what I love about the show Arrested Development? That a seal bites off Buster's hand in Season 2--and the show commits to it. I fully expected them to have his hand magically sewn back on, but it never happened. And that hand, or lack thereof, has become an incredibly hilarious part of the show.

Really, consequences are what make Breaking Bad so terrible and so amazing to watch at the same time .

As Walter White and Jesse Pinkman delve deeper and deeper into the meth business, as they make more and more money, they end up paying dear costs. They lose their families, their friends, their morals, and really, themselves. As we watch Walt lose more and more of the trust of his family, more and more of his humanity, we cringe. We drop our jaws in disbelief. We yell, "What are you doing??" We shake our heads in disgust. As we watch Jesse, we do much of the same we do with Walt, but then we also start to feel pity, then sympathy, then heartbreak.

At the end of the day, anyone who thinks that watching Breaking Bad is glorifying meth and drug culture hasn't watched the show. It does exactly the opposite. Breaking Bad is much closer to Intervention than it is to Half Baked in its portrayal of drugs.

More than it excuses drugs, it shows us, in a way no show has ever done before, just how dangerous, how tragic, how devastating drugs can be. And that danger is only elevated because Walter White isn't some at-risk youth who grew up in the ghetto with no real parents, probably destined to life on the street. He's a middle-aged, educated, white, boring chemistry teacher. A husband. A father. A man who found himself in a desperate situation, having to provide for his family with a terminal cancer diagnosis staring him in the face. And in his case, doing the wrong thing with good intentions led him down a slippery slope to destruction.

(Little aside: more Christian artists, producers, and publishers should take notes. You don't have to have a sterile, safe story with a heavy-handed moral message to express a worthy theme.)

We get the message loud and clear. We squirmed and screamed and sighed with each subsequent lie, each murder, each twist. We wanted it to stop, but we wanted it to keep going.

Please, no more. But then please, more. So, yeah--you know how I feel about this up-and-down, stomach-twisting, roller coaster ride that had me hooked on it like blue sky?

Best. Show. Ever.