The Vocation of a Millennial

This post is about finding meaningfulness, but before we talk about that I want to share a story.

It was a boys-night-out. For a guy with two kids, boys-night-out is as important as (if not more than) national holidays and vacation. The only thing about this particular boys-night-out was that it was just me and my son. His name is Judah and he’s 2. My wife, Kristi was working overnight at the hospital and my 4 year old daughter was having a much needed play-date with cousins. So Judah and I hopped in the car to see where the evening would take us. I wish he could’ve ridden shotgun so that we could wear our sunglasses, roll down the windows and blast some funky fresh jams, but the law prevents toddlers from doing such things. This is a good thing. Instead Judah (securely fastened in his car seat in the back seat) and I cruised around town looking for a fun place to grab a bite to eat something off the beaten path.

We landed at a Greek/Mediterranean Restaurant. The high ceilings and the decadent furnishings reminded me of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous with Robin Leach. It was like a combination of an Atlantic City casino and a swanky country club. This is where big spenders come to dine. I could tell it wasn’t a frequent watering hole for young dad’s looking to bond with their toddler-age son. I felt out of place. My shy little boy just clasped my index finger and hoped no one made eye contact with him.

We were greeted warmly by the hostess and she smirked as I said “table for two.” The hostess led Judah and I through the main room littered with a sea of tables, chandeliers and a bar that would make any brewmaster giddy. I asked to be seated on the patio assuming that a) we’d be less conspicuous and b) the staff would appreciate my toddler eating/throwing his food outdoors, instead of near the big tippers.

After the waiter took our order, I found myself looking around vacantly. Have you ever tried small talk with a toddler? Try it sometime. As most parents do, I found myself resorting to finding an entertaining iPhone app for my son to play with. I found one called “Ant Smasher.” Harmless, right? I clicked on it and handed it to Judah right as our food came so he never got to fulfill his primal urge to kill and squish bugs. We pigged out (in a refined, cultured kind of way).  And it was awesome. I’m no food critic but I love ethnic food. Period. So does Judah.

I paid the bill and we walked across the parking lot to a park. It had a stream for kids to play in so I hiked up my jeans and we tromped through the water. After we were thoroughly soaked from the waist down, Judah climbed on top of a small boulder to rest. There he noticed a small troop of ants scurrying around him. He watched for a few moments. As he leaned over for a closer look, he held out his index finger as if he was pointing to show me his discovery. Just then, I realized he was going to squish an ant (something every boy is apt to do) and in my not-so-calm voice, I said “Wait! Let’s watch and see what they do.”

Why was I concerned for the ant’s well-being all of a sudden?

I’ve never advocated for the equal treatment of animals, nor do I get a kickback from PETA for posting this blog, but I found something absolutely senseless about squishing that ant. Just an hour ago, I handed my son a harmless ant-squishing game to pass time. But now that we had an opportunity to watch the ant carry things 10 times it’s size, I found a teachable moment with my son. And for myself.  For a toddler, verbal communication is effective only to a point. The rest of it you have to show them with body language. The bonding experience I was looking for was, in a word: wonderment.

How utterly meaningless is it to smash an ant? 

What good comes of it?

Who cares!? It’s just an ant!

These are questions we ask ourselves.  But it comes from a place of honesty. And that is why we must choose to listen. Good questions always lead to more questions.

When we start thinking about things that are meaningful, we usually get existential and think about our life broadly and measure it’s potential. The truth is that we are the perpetrators of our own meaninglessness and we are the lid for our own personal growth.  Meaninglessness follows those who lack critical reflection.  We repeatedly go through the same trivial actions when insight is scarce.  Think about what takes up most of your day.  Think about the little things .  Think about the big things that you sacrifice for.

Who does it benefit?

Is it personally meaningful?

Does it contribute to the greater good of society?

Sometimes we are the silent observers of meaninglessness.  Of all the generations in the last few centuries, I believe this one, the Millennials, are anchored and rooted in this idea that our lives must have purpose.  We reject hollow statements. We don’t want all the pomp and circumstance. You can’t buy our vote. You can’t cram us in a cubical for a nice paycheck, healthcare and a pension plan. We have a sixth sense for authenticity and sincerity.  We can smell pretense coming a mile away. We have a gut instinct when something isn’t worth our time.  But when it is you don’t have to pay us a cent to do it because we believe in it with or without pay.  Right or not, we believe we’re special and we want what we do to reflect that.

Have you found what is most meaningful for you?

Word to the wise: you probably won’t get paid for doing it, but do it anyway.

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Life Lessons From Zoolander Pt 2

Every time I think about writing a book it feels a bit like the blind optimism I felt in Junior High every time my friends and I started a band.

We had no idea what we were getting into. But somehow we had it in our heads that being successful meant gaining a cult following.

The number of people that listened to our music was our inspiration. We were lucky if we had more than a handful of rehearsals. Every aspiring band that I founded crashed and burned as soon as we picked a cool name. But I now know that having a cool band name and having tons of fans isn’t why you join a band. Its the music. With or without an audience, it’s always the music. That’s why I love writing. Shaping and reshaping an experience for readers (often with a soundtrack, sometimes not) that takes them to an imaginative, yet meaningful place. (Figuratively speaking, of course. If it was literal, it would just be creepy and I’d call the cops on myself).

And so I write not to garner the approval of a massive audience. That feels cheap. I write because I can’t get the words on the page fast enough. I find myself writing sentences and paragraphs in my head while I’m driving or doing the dishes and think “Drat! Why am I not at my laptop capturing this literary gold!?”

But I also write for you, the reader. Because I know what it is to need insight. In sharing some of my artistic projects, childhood stories or critical reflections about spirituality I hope that we can be an encouragement to one another.

Moral of the story: I do what I do because I’m passionate about it. Whatever you find yourself doing, do it because you enjoy it, feel a sense of purpose and it benefits others. Don’t worry about your approval rating. People will like you for the same reason they hate you. If they flatter you one day they’ll be fickle the next. Something I’ve learned from the school of hard knocks is that performance is not an accurate measure of your self-worth. As soon as you go down that road, you lose focus because what people think of you matters more than what fuels you.

You and I are at our weakest when we try to be someone else. Maintaining a public persona is a version of a false self. Relax. Don’t live to impress.

Sometimes our true self is intimately connected with unrealized dreams. These dreams are given to each of us for a reason. Not for ourselves but for others. Dream big. Let it come from your gut.

We stand on the precipice of possibilities.  The Wright Brothers wanted to fly.  Edison wanted to create the lightbulb.  Derek Zoolander wanted to build a center for kids who can’t read good.


Needless to say, dreamers come in all shapes, sizes and delusions of grandeur. But the ones that you hear about are the ones that actually did something. Not for the appeal of the masses, but because they knew if they didn’t take a chance, they would be robbing themselves of living for something they were called to do.

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Artistry In Motion

Creativity comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and mediums. It isn’t even bound to what most people associate as art. It is an alternate way to do something, often a better, more inspired way. It takes a trail blazer to be creative. You can’t bottle it, manufacture it, or even reproduce it. It runs on it’s own time table. It comes and it goes as it pleases. But the beauty of it is it’s simple origins.

Creativity only needs a spark. This goal by Chivas de Guadelajara striker, Marcos Fabian, is one of those moments that ignite everyone who witnesses his artistry in motion into a romping celebration. That’s the power of creativity.

It jolts momentum into motion. It energizes the dullest moments into vivid, limitless possibilities. It’s the summit. It thrills and exhilarates the observer. That’s why we (and everyone we know who is called on to create something) need to take in the tremendously brilliant artistry around us.

For me, this is one of those moments:

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