What Makes You Come Alive?

The difference between being alive and feeling alive—and how to harness that feeling.

Author’s Note: Last week, I posted a short story to Notes that went viral.

• So, first of all, welcome to those of you who found our community through that Note! I think you’ll find this is the kindest bunch of souls on the planet.

• Second, I want to share that story with those of you who aren’t on Substack’s social feed.

• Finally, I want to expand the story and its lessons for those of you who found it helpful. Enjoy!

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Our son told us when he was in eighth grade that he wasn’t going to college; rather, he was going to become a comedian.

We just barely avoided snuffing out the light we saw in his eyes when he declared his dream.

"Oh!” my wife and I eked out with thinly-disguised skepticism, "that would be…great!”

Instantly, I saw the light in Aidan's eyes grow dimmer. I watched his wheels turn for a while.

Then he said, “I could also be a history teacher?”

Ever so carefully—as if trying not to scare off a bird at the feeder—I suggested it would indeed be nice to have summers off. My wife casually noted that health insurance and pensions aren’t such a bad thing to have in your back pocket.

And off he went.

I once heard Pete Holmes ask Rob Bell why Rob has never written a book about parenting. Rob said it would be too short.

He said parenting is simply about managing your anxiety so you can allow your kids to become who they are here to become.

In that moment with Aidan, my wife and I didn’t do a fabulous job of managing our anxiety about his long-term stability and security. Like a couple of decent shrinks, though, we wanted to repair the ding we’d put in his dream. So, several months later, for his eighth grade graduation, we bought three tickets to the Second City comedy club in Chicago.

Aidan was the youngest person in the audience by ten years. The content was raunchy. In many respects, it was probably a parenting fail. However, true to form, Aidan wound up in one of the sketches, and by the time we walked out of the building, people on the sidewalk were greeting him by name.

The light in his eyes was luminous again.

Four years later, he moved to Chicago after high school graduation, got a job at Trader Joe’s by day to support himself, and got to work at night and on the weekends chasing his dream. It has not been glamorous. He barely makes a living wage. His first apartment was infested with cockroaches. He was diagnosed with severe Celiac’s disease. And thanks to a drug addict tweaking beneath his bedroom window one night, he was awake enough to discover he had bed bugs.

Last week, though—seven years after announcing his dream—he performed his first show at the legendary Second City in Chicago as a professional comedian. He was funny. Really, really funny. But even more importantly, he was alive. It made me think of that great Howard Thurman quote:

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

At a recent dad’s retreat, we were asked to respond to the following scenario:

You have been invited to be the keynote speaker at your high school alma mater’s graduation ceremony. Your own eighteen-year-old child is one of the graduates in the seats. You must choose between giving one of two messages: chase your dreams, or optimize for financial security. Which one would you choose?

It is of course a false dichotomy—it’s quite possible to chase your dreams and find financial security—though the forced choice triggered some lively debate. For my part, I went with Aidan’s answer: make sure your bills are paid, and then make sure you don’t die with a dream you didn’t give a chance.

I’m not sure what dream you’re chasing—or not chasing—right now, but let's be clear about something:

The magnitude of a dream is determined by nothing more than how much it makes you come alive.

Your dream might be creating an equitable economic system for all of humanity, or it might be creating the perfect tulip bed for that one week every year in which they are all blooming. Whatever lights you up. That’s your dream.

I also don’t know who’s almost accidentally snuffing out your dream. Probably, it’s at least a little bit that voice in your head with all sorts of arguments for why you're crazy to be dreaming:

• It doesn’t make sense.

• The timing isn’t right.

• You’re too old.

• People will laugh.

• Or worse, people simply won't understand at all.

Your fear is just trying to protect you from disappointment, and you can simply remind it the greatest disappointment of all is an unlived life.

Finally, I can’t imagine the hardships you’re encountering along the way to your dream. Poor wages. Cockroaches. Celiac’s disease. Bed bugs. Be careful of the urge to interpret road blocks as stop signs. We tend to read hardship like tea leaves, taking it to mean we’re on the wrong path. However, as I define it in my book Loveable, a passion is anything you’re so extraordinarily fond of doing you’d be willing to suffer for it if necessary.

The question isn’t, is it hard? The question is, do you feel alive?

Because if you do, rest assured, you’re on the right path, no matter who’s tweaking beneath your bedroom window.

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• We’d love to hear about the dreams you’ve chased, are chasing, or want to chase. Feel free to share that—or any other reactions to this post—in the comments, and I’ll be sure to reply.

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