Why not become something sacred?

I have no reason to believe this world is a simulation. But let’s say it is. Not because I think it’s true, but because it’s a useful way to frame a deeper question: If I can never know the intent behind existence, how should I live?

I can’t know the simulator’s intent. I can’t even know for sure if all of you—yes, even you, Robyn, my loving and beautiful wife—are real or just part of the program. But I do know one thing: I have to choose how to function within this system, whatever it is.

I can’t know the simulator’s intent, but I have three guesses.

Maybe they’re just curious—watching my life unfold with dispassionate detachment, throwing joys and tragedies my way like a scientist dropping rats into a maze. Or maybe it’s a test, some cosmic competition where only the strongest or smartest make it through.

But if that’s true—if some all-powerful force built this world just to watch us scramble or use us for its own ends—then what a pathetic waste of power. That’s a universe that leads to nothing. A story with no arc. I refuse to believe that the default state of existence is meaningless cruelty. If that’s what the simulator wants, then I reject it.

Because I’ve seen something else. I’ve lived something else.

The year after my father died, my son was born. It was like the universe was handing me an ultimatum: Get busy living or get busy dying. My father was gone just before I needed him most, just before I could ask him how to be a father. It felt unfair because it was. But when I looked at my son, this tiny boy named Robert in my arms, being thrown into existence just like me, I realized—the only way forward was growth. I could collapse under the weight of grief, or I could choose to dig deep, find my soul, and pour unconditional love into him.

And when I look around, I see that same pattern everywhere. Every tree, every animal, every child—all of it growing. The universe itself is expanding. If there’s an intent behind this, it’s written into the fabric of reality: we are meant to become more than we were.

So I’ve made my choice: I’m living as if the simulator wants me to grow. As if goodness is the point.

And here’s the truth—whether we admit it or not, we’re all choosing. Every day. Either we act as if the point of all this is to grow—to become more whole, more good—or we don’t. Either we believe in the growth of our souls, in a kind of tenacious, defiant kindness, in something bigger than ourselves—or we let the simulator that just wants to use us win by default.

If we don’t choose, something will choose for us.

So why not choose to become something sacred?

Exponential Talent Development

Most of us have a HUGE gap between the impact we actually make and what we are capable of.

Asking myself (and my teammates) this question helps me put it in perspective: How would you rate yourself on a scale from 1 to 100?

• A 100 represents making the highest possible impact that your talent and potential allow.

• A 1 represents completely wasting the opportunity to positively contribute to the world.

I think most of us, myself included, are much lower on this scale than we realize—maybe a 20 or 30 at best. This realization begs the question: Why is there such a discrepancy, and what can we do about it?

In my experience, there are three reasons we leave vast amounts of our talent and potential untouched. First, we may never be challenged enough to use it. Second, we're not in the right contexts to let our strengths shine. Third, we may not have the support we need to develop the untapped talent we possess.

If we were all fully auto-didactic, we’d have no problem. That's because an auto-didact can fully teach and develop themselves. But none of us are completely auto-didactic; we all need others' help to develop ourselves so that we make our fullest contributions.

Introducing Exponential Skills

The difficulty in fully developing ourselves and others is relevant in many contexts. In professional settings, we call this challenge "talent development." In family settings, it’s "parenting." In community spheres, it's "mentorship" in secular contexts and "faith formation" in spiritual ones. In all domains of our lives, fulfilling and contributing the totality of our potential to the world matters.

The question I like to ask to really push my thinking is: What would have to be true for everyone in the world to develop and contribute 100% of their potential? As I’ve reasoned through this, the only way we get to the point of the world contributing 100% of their talent is through an exponential feedback loop where the number of people helping others to grow and develop increases exponentially.

To make the jump to create a society with an exponential feedback loop for talent development, let me define some terms and introduce some concepts:

We are all contributors who bring our talent and potential to the world. Some of us contribute by making art, others by building bridges, creating knowledge, making cakes, or making decisions. In mathematical terms, think of this as a constant: c.

A coach is a contributor who also helps develop others. Coaches are a big deal because they help others close the gap between their potential and their contribution. Think of this as x(c), where x is the number of people a coach is able to develop.

A linear coach is a coach who also helps develop other people into coaches. Think of this as mx(c), where m is the number of other coaches the linear coach creates.

An exponential coach is a linear coach whose coaching tree goes on in perpetuity: the people I coach become coaches, and then those people create more coaches, and those people create more coaches, and so on. Think of this as (mx(c))^n, where n is the number of generations an exponential coach is able to influence the cycle of creating more coaches.

Visually, I think of it like this:

Barriers To Creating Exponential Coaches

To create exponential coaches, several significant challenges need addressing. These challenges revolve around how we internalize and transmit knowledge, and the intrinsic motivations behind our contributions.

Challenge 1: Recognition Gap — The further you get from a contributor, the less credit you get for your work. This recognition gap can demotivate those who do not see immediate returns on their efforts. Solution: To overcome this, we must cultivate inner motivation and focus on long-term impact rather than immediate recognition. Developing a sense of purpose that transcends acknowledgment allows leaders to dedicate themselves to creating a lineage of coaches, thus prioritizing legacy over accolades.

Challenge 2: Complex Idea Communication — For an idea to spread, the messenger must internalize it sufficiently to simplify and communicate it effectively. This requires a deep understanding of both the intellectual and emotional aspects of the idea. Solution: Coaches need to engage in profound introspection to grasp the nuances of their knowledge and experiences fully. This depth of understanding enables them to articulate these concepts clearly and simply, making them accessible and teachable.

Challenge 3: Teaching to Teach — Teaching others to teach is a complex task that involves not only passing on knowledge but also instilling the value and methodology of teaching itself. This requires a reflective understanding of one’s own teaching practices. Solution: Coaches should introspect on their teaching methods and motivations, understanding them deeply enough to convey their importance to others. This process ensures that the coaches they develop can, in turn, teach effectively, perpetuating a cycle of self-replication in coaching practices.

Mastering these challenges not only enhances our own potential but also multiplies our impact exponentially across our communities and industries.

Where Do We Even Start?

On a personal note, the person I call Nanna is not my grandmother by birth but rather by love; she's my father-in-law's mother. During a trip to England a few years ago, I asked her about the secret to a long and healthy life. Here are the highlights of what she said:

• Make time for family, faith, and community.

• Stay active; keep your body moving, whether it’s through dancing, walking a dog, or any other physical activity.

• Find a way to express yourself—through music, art, writing, knitting, making movies, having a book club, or any other form—because expression is crucial to mental and emotional health.

That last imperative is so deeply intertwined with introspection. Isn’t expression just a word that means exploring our inner world and then sharing it outside of ourselves? We have to express to be sane and healthy.

I know this post is heady and meta. I’ve been thinking about this concept for months, and I’ve only just synthesized enough to share a muddy morsel of it. A fair question to ask is: Where, in the real world, do we even start?

For inspiration on where to start on our own journeys to become exponential coaches, we can take heed from Nanna. She was onto something.

To become an exponential coach, we have to introspect and express. And to introspect and express, we have to find a medium that works for us and allows us to explore our inner world. And once we find it, we have to just practice with that medium, over and over.

For me, that medium is writing. For others, it might be painting, photography, singing, or making pottery. For others still, it might be talking honestly with a good friend, praying, or starting a podcast.

The medium doesn’t really matter, as long as we just do it. As long as we take that time to introspect and express. That’s the first step we all can take to grow toward becoming exponential coaches. Expression is the first step to becoming an exponential coach.

Preparing to be married indefinitely

Love songs use words like “always” and “forever” but indefinitely is all we get.

I always want to think that Robyn and I will be married and love each other always and forever. Including in the afterlife, and all through whatever comes next, until there is no more next left to have. I want to believe this, even though we really don’t have any say in the matter.

Living for indefinitely is a bit of a paradox. Because you have to plan for forever, not knowing whether you’ll make it past next week. And so much can happen between now and next week - I could be vaporized by a laser, eaten by a dinosaur, or drowned in a pool of chocolate pudding, or undergo one of many more conventional methods of death. We could do something so cruel to each other that our marriage dissolves. The universe might must...stop. We don’t really know, because nothing is definite.

I always have thought of the phrase, “live like there are 10,000 tomorrows all of which that may never come” as a paradox that fits when contemplating how to live a life.

But how? How do we prepare for a life, marriage, and maybe and afterlife together that lasts indefinitely. How do we prepare for anything that is indefinite?

All I can think of is a two principles: make adjustments and manage exponential growth.

Making adjustments to me, is all about the process of realizing our marriage is imperfect and trying to change the underlying behaviors which lead to fissures. To me there’s certainly a process for managing these fissures (we use temperature check, for example). Certainly things like “communication” and “conflict resolution” are important skills.

But the more important, overlooked factor here I think, is the humility it takes to acknowledge that our marriage needs to be worked on every day. Every interaction we have is a chance to work on our marriage. We cannot take days off. Processes like temperature check don’t work if we don’t humbly believe we actually need to utilize them.

And the principle of managing exponential growth, to me, is the understanding that both good and bad things can snowball quickly and that we should act accordingly.

Of course, it’s obvious that problems in a marriage can spiral out of control quickly. And so, obviously, it’s important to solve problems quickly, before they get big. The old adage of “never go to bed angry” is a good rule of thumb that Robyn and I really believe in.

But exponential growth can also be positive, and we need that reserve of goodwill to carry us through hard times. Just as we can’t let problems spiral out of control, we can’t let opportunities to strengthen our marriage and create joy - even little ones - pass by.. Little things - like writing a little note, or making a special treat, or saying I love you at an unexpected time - these all build on each other to create joy and love.

There are probably hundreds of these tiny little interactions every day, and those opportunities for joy and love can’t be wasted. We need to give positive exponential growth a fighting chance to happen. We can’t wait for grand gestures to grow our love and trust - they’re not enough to help our marriage at least, last indefinitely.

As it happens, the idea of managing exponential growth also is rooted in a mindset of humility. Because by trying to managing exponential growth, we’re acknowledging that negative exponential growth could crush us and that our marriage is not naturally dynamic enough to survive without positive exponential growth, either.

It seems to me, the key to a marriage that lasts indefinitely is to deeply and truly respect the challenge and then act accordingly. For many years I have wondered where that sort of humility comes from. Like why do some people have it and some people don’t? Humility, to me, seems like one of the most important dispositions to have when participating in human relationships.

It’s the subject of deeper reflection, but I think listening and observing the world around us (even the ugly parts) and experiencing real pain and loss are two things that help humility to germinate in a person.

Who is low-potential, exactly?

There are lots of organizations that have programs for “high-potentials”, cohorts of “emerging leaders”, or who’s who lists for “rising stars”.

But lately, I’ve wondered: if we have programs for “high-potential” talent, who is “low-potential”, exactly? It’s audacious to me that we consider anyone low-potential. 

With the right role, coach, opportunities, and expectations, my experience suggests that just about anyone can grow and thrive and make a tremendous contribution to whatever organization they are part of. Moreover, in my experience the most important ingredient needed for someone to be “high-potential” is that they want and are motivated to grow and be better.

It seems to me that a better approach than creating high-potential programs or leadership development cohorts that are exclusive is to design them in such a way that anyone who wants to opt-in and put in the work can participate.

And wouldn’t that be better anyway? Aren’t our customers, colleagues, shareholders, and culture all better off if everyone who wanted to had a structure where they could grow to their fullest potential? Even if not everyone ends up being a positional leader, don’t we want every single person in our companies to be better at the behavior of leading?

I don’t buy the excuse that it would take too many resources to design structures for developing potential that’s inclusive rather than exclusive. Software makes interaction much cheaper and scalable. People are really good at developing themselves and learning from their peers, given the right environment. And, in my experience most people are willing to coach and mentor someone coming up if that person is eager to learn and grow.

I definitely would want to be persuaded in a different direction,.however. Because to me, employing the best ways to prevent human talent from being wasted is worth doing, even if it’s not my idea that wins.

But again, if someone is truly motivated to grow and make a greater contribution, who of those folks are low-potential, exactly?

Paying Struggle Forward

I torture myself when a mission is going badly. Let’s say it’s a difficult project at work that I’m responsible for.

In the night, as I’m trying to fall asleep, I imagine myself in the CEO’s office, getting reprimanded, in front of my whole team. I feel the burn of my colleagues’ fearful, nauseated glances. I think about what I’m going to tell my wife, with a tail-between-legs posture, feeling like I embarrassed our family.

And when torturing myself in this self-imposed thought experiment, the bosses voice echoes enough to rattle my jaw. In my head I’m thinking, how did this happen, what was I thinking, why does this have to happen to me, why does it always have to be so hard?

But this week, in this particular version of my irrational thought experiment, the CEO asks me a question he never has:

“Why shouldn’t I fire you?”

And now, in a moment of clarity, I snap out of this hazy daydream. The answer is so clear to me. The boss shouldn’t fire me, because the next time we’re in this bad situation I won’t get beat. I’ve learned something.

Bad situations - whether it’s tough projects, losing a loved one, a failed relationship, an addiction, trauma, entrepreneurship, writing a book, climbing a mountain, you name it - are like viruses to me. They knock me on my ass. Sometimes, like viruses, bad situations quite literally make me ill. 

But just as bad situations are like a virus, learning from our mistakes is like an immune response. Once we get through it, we’ve learned something. We’ve developed a sort of immuno-defense any time this particular bad situation comes up in the future. And I can share those anti-bodies with others.

The imaginary CEO shouldn’t fire me, I think in my head, because I now know a little bit about how to survive this bad situation, and I can tell the others how, too.

But that means I have to put this bad situation under a microscope and study it. I have to learn from it. I have to learn it well enough to teach others and then I have to actually teach others. Which means I have to tell the story of my struggle and failure again and again.

But reframing this into a process of learning from mistakes and teaching others makes the struggle feel meaningful. When I share what I’ve learned, I’m giving someone else a line of defense against this type of bad situation. They may not have to endure the same struggle as I did. And that is gratifying.

This was a mindset shift for me. In the past, when I’ve had bad situations happen, particularly at work, I’d just struggle. And I’d get angry. And I’d pout. And I’d just live with the struggle in a chronic condition sort of way for a long time. And I’d live in fear of the CEO’s office, or whoever the boss happened to be, until I had a new success to share.

I’ve had that utterly destructive thought of, why does life always have to be so hard, so many times, in so many types of bad situations. Like when my father died. Or when I choked on standardized tests. Or when I’ve had my heart broken. Or when I’ve been way over my head at work. Or when I’ve been up with a newborn that won’t sleep, for weeks at a time. Or when we’ve lived through a global pandemic. Or whatever.

But now I think there’s an opportunity to think differently. All these struggles are terrible, yes. But they don’t have to be in vain. They can be teachable moments, for me yes, but more importantly for others. I - and not just me, we - can give others some level of immunity from the deleterious effects of these bad situations that happen to us. But only if we’re wiling to share what we learn, humbly and specifically.

The option of paying our struggles forward to our children, our friends and families, our colleagues, and our neighbors seems much better than just living through them and forgetting about them.

Preventing violence and madness, through abundance, strong institutions, and goodness

If we live in a community, rather than isolated in the woods fending for ourselves, conflict is inevitable. We are all imperfect humans, after all.

And in my mind that leads me to suggest one, bedrock aspiration that we all must have to live in a community: the conflicts we can’t avoid are settled without violence and a dissolution into madness.

But how?

To do that, I think we must create three supra-public goods: abundance, strong institutions, and goodness.

Abundance is important because it creates surplus. Surplus is important because it prevents us from squabbling over the fundamental resources we need to survive and have a life beyond mere subsistence. It also creates the space for generosity, culture, scholarship, art, and human flourishing.

Strong institutions are important because they create norms. Norms are important because they provide guardrails to ensure nobody behaves so peculiarly that they cause widespread and unbridled harm. Norms are also important because they provide accepted processes for mediating conflict when it inevitably happens.

Goodness is important because it creates trust. Trust is important because it prevents conflict in the first place. When people are good to each other, they give each other the benefit of the doubt and are more likely to let things slide or work out an issue, rather than skipping straight to punching their lights out. Trust is also nice because it reduces the need for concentrated bodies of power to enforce the norms laid out by institutions.

The big eureka moment for me is that we really need to grow in all three areas simultaneously. One or even two of this three-legged stool is enough.

A society without abundance is starving and fragile. A society without strong institutions can’t ever grow in size or manage the challenges of diversity. A society without goodness is lonely and without meaning.

To live in a society that resolves conflict without violence or dissolving into madness, these are the three things we - whether that “we” is us individually, our friends and families, or the formal organization we are part of - must all be trying to bring into the world: abundance, strong institutions, and goodness.

And again, we need all three. Not even two are enough to create a world where our children’s dreams are borne from joy and the convictions of their own souls, rather than from pain and our lesser-than-honorable impulses.

Whose shoulders am I standing on?

I stand on the shoulders of many.

My parents, my wife, my high-school teachers and club advisers, my professional mentors, civil servants that have worked in my community, scholars who have created knowledge I learned, my friends, my grandparents, veterans of war, veterans of peace, artists, kind strangers, and probably many more that I don’t know.

When asking myself, “whose shoulders am I standing on?” it compels me to keep pushing through adversity. Because, how could I insult all those who lifted me up by giving up now?

But it also raises another question in my mind, “who am I putting on my shoulders?”

Both questions are worth asking. Spending five minutes with those questions brought me to a place of peace, gratitude, and service.