“You can start out with nothing, and out of nothing, and out of no way, a way will be made.”
I used to think that quotes like that were a bunch of crap. I also didn't understand what the hell they were talking about. I mean, not that I cared. I was too cool.
What little I knew about the self-help/spiritual world I found to be unforgivingly cheesy: it reeked of desperation, rah-rah churchiness and unwanted hugs from unappealing strangers. And don't even get me started on how grouchy I used to be about God.
At the same time, there was all this stuff about my life that I desperately wanted to change and, had I been able to bulldoze through my holier-than-thouism, I could have really used some help around here.
I mean, overall I was doing pretty well—I'd published a couple of books, had lots of great friends, a close family, an apartment, a car that ran, food, teeth, clothes, clean drinking water—compared to the majority of the planet, my life was a total cream puff.
But compared to what I knew I was capable of, I was, shall we say, unimpressed. I felt like:
Come ON, this is the best I can do? Really? I'm going to make just enough to pay my rent this month? Again? And I'm going to spend another year dating a bunch of weirdos so I can be in all these wobbly, non-committal relationships and create even more drama? Really? And am I seriously going to question what my deeper purpose is and wallow in the misery of that quagmire for the millionth time?
It. Was. A. Snore.