I’ve made my share of wild choices.

 

ONCE, I WROTE A LETTER to famed artist James Victore. As a college design student, I had spent a few months idolizing his recklessly authentic approach to work, creativity, and life. He agreeably welcomed me to visit his studio, so I made the fourteen-hour drive to the east coast by myself. I parked in midtown Manhattan and visited his studio in Brooklyn a day later.

“Nobody is going to ask you to do anything,” he told me, explaining that initiative and a headstrong attitude would be the building blocks of my success and happiness. Those words will always be seared into my mind.

TWICE, I CHOSE TO JUMP out of an airplane flying some 13,000 feet above solid ground, placing all of my faith in a parachute and a tall stranger strapped to my back. What’s infrequently mentioned in skydiving stories is the immediate silence and stillness that fills the air when pilots cut the engines of their planes.

During my first jump, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of antigravity in my stomach as we fell. I clenched my jaw and didn’t make a single sound until I pulled our parachute.

On my second jump, though, I all but dragged my tandem instructor to the plane’s door; he laughed and had to pull me back because we hadn’t gotten our go ahead. After we tumbled out of the plane, I happily screamed throughout the sixty seconds of free fall.

ONCE, I PACKED MY LIFE (and cats, houseplants, etc.) into a giant moving truck, drove it north on the interstate, and dropped anchor in Chicago. I could discuss all of the challenges and adventures that I’ve since encountered, but it’s still a work in progress. Stay tuned and thanks for reading.

Best wishes on your own journey.

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