Ships in the Night

Last week, I delved into the process of preparing to embark on a new business venture, startup, or project.

We discussed in detail the mental preparation that entrepreneurs undergo leading up to taking that leap, as well as the mental hurdles we need to overcome.

The overarching theme of last week's piece was recognizing the opportunity to transform the "Golden Handcuffs" of our current situations into a "Golden Parachute" for our future endeavors.

We explored the benefits of aligning our current roles with our future aspirations once the decision to transition has been made.

Last week, I had an enlightening conversation with a new friend and colleague about community, entrepreneurship, and recognizing the signs in our lives that lead us to our next significant moments.

During our discussion, I shared with him a mental imaging technique that I've been fortunate to employ several times over the past few decades, and I believe now is the perfect time for me to share it with you.

I call it "Ships in the Night," and it begins with a story.

For those who know me well, it's no secret that I'm a musician and a creative soul. I've been composing music for my entire life and engaging in various artistic endeavors.

I always envisioned my life revolving around creating music and performing live. Throughout my teens and twenties, I spent countless late nights writing music, dreaming of recognition for my talents, and planning for the moment when my fortunes would change.

However, that moment never materialized.

I'll save the details of why and how, or at least my interpretation of them, for another day.

The crucial aspect of this story, in relation to our discussion, is that I found myself at the end of the pier with no boat and no viable plan, at least not from an emotional standpoint.

Sure, I had a source of income and some ideas about my professional direction, but none of those paths ignited a fire within me.

Professionally, I transitioned from handling jugs of milk to handling fine art—undoubtedly an upgrade, but lacking in inspiration.

I entertained the idea of becoming a registered nurse, believing my people skills might serve me well in that role. Yet, once again, I felt no passion, only a growing sense of desperation.

You see, the more desperate I became, the more turbulent my inner turmoil grew.

When our options diminish and our sense of control wanes, desperation takes hold.

"What am I going to do?" 

"How did I fail to realize my destiny?"

"How did I get everything so wrong?"

Sinking, sinking, sinking...

Needless to say, it was a profoundly distressing experience.

And then, something unexpected happened amidst the chaos.

In the midst of all the turmoil, a lifeboat of sorts appeared, or rather, it swept me into an entirely different current than I could have ever anticipated.

You see, in some form or another, I had been an entrepreneur my entire life; I just hadn't recognized it as such.

I had dabbled in various businesses and side ventures, but always as a means to an end rather than as ends in themselves.

I had even spent some time casually brainstorming what would later become Pixilated. However, those musings were half-hearted and lacked genuine enthusiasm.

So, what changed? I couldn't say for certain.

Perhaps it was desperation, or perhaps it was feeling cornered.

But when the opportunity to build what would become Pixilated resurfaced, I stepped forward and said yes.

Not because I suddenly possessed unwavering conviction, but because it felt like the right thing to do.

I didn't hesitate. I didn't overanalyze. I simply said yes.

And then, one step at a time, I followed my intuition into the unknown.

It turned out to be a pivotal moment—no tumult, no resistance.

It just felt... right.

And in that moment, I caught my first glimpse of the mental image that would later become my "Ships in the Night" theory.

By pausing, assessing the situation, and making a decision with conviction and blind trust in my intuition, I transitioned from one opportunity leading to a dead end to another opportunity leading toward the light.

Am I offering a somewhat idealized version of events? 

Certainly.

Does hindsight tint this story with rose-colored hues?

Undoubtedly.

But the lesson was learned, and it was ingrained deeply enough for me to rely on it as a guiding principle in the future.

Even now, I'm surprised by how seamlessly I was able to shift from a direction leading nowhere to one pointing toward the future.

Such serendipity. Such providence.

I'm not sure if I've done justice to this story. It was a profound moment in my life, one for which I'm incredibly grateful.

I hope that by sharing it, I can offer some illumination for your own journey when you find yourself in need.

Just remember, you don't have to thrash about if you're willing to listen to the universe instead.

Until next time.

This is Ground Control.

Patrick