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My Journey
jour·ney
noun: journey
1.a traveling from one place to another, usually taking a rather long time; trip.
2.a distance, course, or area traveled.
“His journey was long, but was rewarded with learning and self-awareness.”
Ten years ago I was running my family business. I had been running this business, which was a successful golf center, for eleven years. We had a driving range, a nine-hole golf course, and a retail golf store in Salem, Oregon, called Cottonwood Lakes. But I was really unhappy.
I know a lot of people would give their “left arm” to have that job, but I didn’t feel like I was being my true authentic self and that bothered me. Up to that point in my life I had accomplished some really nice things. I rode my bicycle across the United States, finished over fifty triathlons (including four Ironman races), had a wonderful son, and was running a profitable business; so a part of me felt like I had a good understanding of personal success and what that meant and felt like. But I wasn’t feeling that way at my job or in my life anymore. I felt like I had this giant gift inside of me that wanted to come out, but I didn’t know what it was; I just knew that it needed to be released. So, with a slightly confused heart, I left the golf center and my family’s business. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life after leaving, but I trusted my decision.
Now, getting to the place of actually leaving the business was much harder than I just made it out to be. This was a job that had permeated through my being ever since I was a seventh-grader driving a little tractor with a makeshift wire cage on it to pick up the golf balls. I would effortlessly drive around lost in thought on warm summer evenings, smelling fresh-cut grass and listening to the “thwack” of club hitting ball, and compulsively picking up every single one of them come the end of the night so the customers could do it all over again the next day. I had grown up with that job; it taught me responsibility and gave me purpose. It provided me a consistent workplace throughout high school and during college while home on summer break. It also made me “cool” and gave me instant credibility amongst my peers, not to mention a handy place to take a date. But most importantly, I had grown up playing golf: it was a sport that provided many happy memories for me as a child and a vital tool that helped my father and I bond, and that made it one of the reasons why it was hard for me to tell him I didn’t want to do it anymore as an adult.
In my heart, I think I always knew that I wasn’t going to be working at the golf center for the rest of my life. I felt an intuitive tug pulling at me early on during my eleven-year tenure of running the facility. It was the same tug that I bravely followed into triathlon racing during college, but this tug wasn’t quite strong enough or, more likely, I didn’t have the courage to listen to it at that time to actually leave. But now it pulsed stronger than ever and wouldn’t allow me to stay complacent in something that wasn’t my true calling. That didn’t make the initial conversation about wanting to leave the business with my father any easier. At first I felt that I was letting him down. My thinking was that he had provided me with this great opportunity to run and co-own a business that most people would happily say yes to. And I knew that he had secretly hoped that I would make it my own someday.
When I finally did gather the courage to have the chat, the conversation went much better than I could have ever imagined. I think much of the anxiety stemmed from my own fears of letting him down. He told me that he sensed I wasn’t enjoying it as much as I had been at the start of my eleven-year run and that he certainly didn’t want me to do anything that my heart wasn’t into or be someone that I wasn’t. He also told me that he just wanted me to be happy. I felt very fortunate that my father understood my feelings and was able to let some of his own fears be tabled.
He also shared something with me that totally caught me off guard. He told me that if he could have done it all over he would have become a golf club professional instead of an independent insurance agent, because he loved to teach and help others with their golf game. (He had a very long and successful career as an independent insurance agent while we operated the golf center on the side.) He sensed that he understood my need to find my true calling, whatever it may be, while I still had time to explore and find myself. All of the guilt I was carrying in regard to my departure had been placed there firmly by myself and by my own expectations of potentially letting him down after having this great opportunity presented to me, which I would soon be leaving.
I think many of us have been taught by society and our loved ones (as they were taught as well) that happiness and fulfillment come from fitting into a certain societal mold. Be wary of being seduced into prematurely accepting some role that doesn’t have much to do with your nature or values. The familiar model is to head to college, get a job, get married and have kids. Unfortunately, that expectation sometimes clashes with information we are receiving from our heart and intuition. At least that was the case for me. As a result, I was initially caught in a situation of feeling like I was letting my dad down by following my heart.
Looking back on my experience at the golf center, with ten years of perspective under my belt, I have no regrets. I learned a great deal about myself, people in general, and business—I wouldn’t change a thing. But most importantly, it helped shape me into who I am today. It gave me the tools and knowledge, both tangible and emotional, that I carry forward. I am very proud of the fact that I followed my heart and listened to my intuition, and I consider myself lucky that I had the courage to walk away from a secure yet unauthentic situation.
I feel like I am living my authentic life now. I have found happiness and fulfillment in writing, speaking, producing, and acting. I am accomplishing things that I never would have thought or dreamed possible. It wasn’t until I left my job that I really began to see how alive I could feel, simply by being myself and following my heart.
When I stepped away, I didn’t really know who I was or what my future held. What I did know was that I sure wanted to find out. I had to step away from something that I didn’t love in hopes of finding something that I did. There began the process of building a new, more stable foundation for the rest of my life.
We are all just walking each other home.
—Ram Dass
I love this quote, always have, and always will. It cuts right to the heart of the matter. We are all here basically going through the same experiences, dealing with primarily the same problems, and trying to do our best to survive and thrive in a sometimes-difficult world. We all have so much in common. And at the deepest core of our existence we all want the same beautiful thing, to love and be loved. Why do we make it so hard for ourselves? Fear and painful experiences just to name a few. Why can’t the process of “walking each other home” be easier, if we all basically want the same thing? I think it can be.
As I share my journey, I want you to have your own journey. It’s never been my intention to tell anyone what to do. I want to share my experience of how I am “doing life” in hopes that you can gain more personal awareness so that you can “do your life” in as fulfilling and as enjoyable a way as possible. I want to share with you how I created habits by living authentically that strengthened my foundation. I want you to be inspired to want to live your life to the fullest.
There comes a time in all of our lives when it becomes more painful for us to stay mired in our old habits than to step outside our comfort zone and risk the unknown as we journey toward finding our true voice. Your true voice is the language of authentic fulfillment, joy, and happiness. While speaking your true voice, creativity flows, fears subside, and peace of mind prevails. I truly want everyone to find his or her true voice.
It took me over forty years to begin to find and speak my true voice. I had to overcome my own internal beast. The beast that tells us that we are not enough. It is the ultimate internal battle of overcoming feelings of unworthiness. Things looked successful on the outside, but I certainly can assure you that I struggled on the inside. I did the work to find out who I really was and to become what I have always wanted to be: a more authentic version of myself.
It’s ok to have fear and be scared. According to