I’m not a particularly talented kid. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a handful of strengths. I do. But I’ve also had plenty of lucky breaks. I’ve been blessed with good role models, teachers, coaches, parents that have guided me to the extremely successful position I’m in now; good job, financial security, healthy habits, balanced lifestyle. The culmination of lots of privileges.

I’m venturing into the realm of creativity. Unfortunately, you’re all along for the ride by means of reading this. It’ll be scary and dark, filled with setbacks and missed chances, but most of all, plenty of it will be bad and/or boring.

As grateful and appreciative as I am to everyone who got me here, the journey forward will have to be forged by me. [And you dear reader, if you tell me what you like and what you don’t like. I crave the feedback.]

Entering my 26th year, I’ve have had some experience trekking through the jungle of adulthood by now, and I think my tool kit comes to three main tendencies. How Motivated are you? How Disciplined? How Talented?

Look, I’m just a twentysomething millennial, who’s barely had to work at all and assumes the entire world around me is happy-dory, right underneath its ugly, bubbling surface. [On a reread, this is also a good metaphor for myself.] I’m so cloyingly optimist, I honestly think I can change people perspectives to come around to my side with time and presence. I think I’m a Disney Princess, destined for success and harmony and love, if only I would try [and possibly break out into a musical number].

What it demands from me, is purely iterations. If I were panning for gold, I’d be less worried about the purity of the nuggets, than the size of the pan and the amount of dirt I could move.

Which is why I always say I’m working on it. Because I’m always just panning away. It’s mostly waste, rubbish, runoff. That’s the point.

Motivation will make the work more enjoyable. Strong motivation become vocation, where some invisible force drives you to work. This is important the voice says as you run to the nearest notepad, writing as fast as you can get the words out, illegible scribbles of the fanatic. Diagrams and sketches, scratched into the corners of work notes or on index cards while the subway screeches along underground tracks. Late nights grinding in the quiet. Early morning bolstered by coffee and the sunrise.

Motivation comes a lot from attitude. Your mindset approaching any task is key.

Discipline will make the work consistent. This is the most important tool. Its water applied to rock; time applied to anything. Discipline will determine the long term success by being the largest constant. Discipline becomes habit. Habit is painless relentlessness.

Talent. The phantom of God’s uneven gifts. The fleeing mistress. If discipline is base, and motivation is a multiplier, talent is the exponent. Talented people grow faster and become more notable than anyone else. True talent can become genius. Generational. Mastery.

But the kicker is that talent can also be groomed by motivation and discipline, a conversation that isn’t very efficient, but way more promising than pure talent trying to groom a habit.

So, maybe I’m talented. This writing seems to say otherwise. But I’m working on it. I’m writing to say something. I’m not sure it’s worth saying, worth saving, worth reading, worth staying with you. But I have no other choices. I’ve got to put ‘em out. Someone’s got to entertain the crickets in the absence of their lady-cricket friends!

*chirp chirp* [haaa…]

I’m hoping. No wait. I’m trusting that I can get further. I think I can change minds. I think I see the world a little differently. It’s rosy over here, but realistic. We’ve made the earth a dark and scary place to live. The culminations of the millennia of human follies and mistakes, arrogance and sins. It goes back further and permeates deeper than most people realize. Most people have barely woken up. They could use a cup of strong black, fair trade coffee. Some people are sleeping in U.N. tents, or on hay, in cots or cardboard, bamboo mats or alleyways, borrowed beds or no place in particular at all.

It’s worse than you think it is out there.

But it’s also better.

When you stop being so scared of all the darkness, it turns out, every person has their own light. If you keep looking for that flame, you’ll find it unwavering and universal.

What’s more, most people are willing to share its warmth, even in the tiniest, coldest, most horrendous places.

That’s the beauty. That’s the true beauty. If you keep your eye on it, it’ll guide you towards itself. Towards hope.

Cheers! Love! Roars!

Winston