“You aren't blogging enough.”
“I miss hearing your voice.”
She's absolutely right. I'm not blogging enough. I'm not taking my own advice to show up — the more I write, the more I'll be read. In part, I'm writing less on my personal blog because I am really busy, for which I am grateful.
But to the personal aspect of her comment, “I miss hearing your voice”, my answer was more problematic — “I don't have anything to say.” Of course, that's not entirely true, I have lots of things to say — but do I have anything meaningful to say?
I think two things are going on here:
First, I am diving into new and exciting pools, like with the launch of Springboard Ventures, LP. It is even more exciting and disruptive than what we did at Rose Park Advisors. I was used to talking about that. Now I get to talk about this. But, sometimes with something wonderful, you want to keep it to yourself, for just a little while.
Second — and this one I'm more concerned about — as I look at most of my best work over the past five years, a lot of it came as I was speaking or writing my way through pain. When I wrote in Dare, Dream, Do, we “dream to make meaning of life”, implicit in this statement, was that we dream to make meaning of pain. We do. All of us have periods of pain — every single one of us. And, at least for me, when I look to make meaning of pain, I almost always can find something to say generalizable, and of substance. This is a double-edged sword. If my best creativity comes from the pain, is it possible that I seek it out, even am or become addicted to it?
I have resolved to be happier, to not self-sabotage. I have also resolved to do more speaking, write my next book, to launch a successful investment fund, to make more money — to dream so my children can dream.
It's a conundrum.
Maybe I do have something to write about.