I used to be a Christian, but I am not sure that I am anymore.
In general, I don’t love labels.
I don’t enjoy being categorized in any way. I prefer to be known only by the name my parents gave me.
This name is Geoff. If you are reading these pages in an American accent, then I want you to know that Geoff = Jeff, it’s just spelled differently.
Every single Uber driver I had in my 13 years in Los Angeles called me Gee-off. I never corrected any of them; I found it highly amusing.
There’s one thing that I really loved about my time as an evangelical: the concept of redemption and new life.
That every single day was new.
That no matter the shit that went down yesterday, today you could start again.
That’s why the very first chapter of this book begins with me sitting on that fat rock in the middle of nowhere.
That’s my chapter one.
Not the years that went on before.
Not the failures and victories of yesterday.
Ever had a friend who could not help but tell you story after story of their past glories from years ago?
Ever been that person?
Stuck in the old story?
Never leaving the rock at the beach, slowly dying upon it, wishing that they were young again?
I like to wax lyrical.
I am half poet and half scientist.
You cannot begin a new story unless you let go of the old ones.
The old stories keep you stuck.
The new stories (driven by your goals) set you free to truly live.
Do not, I repeat, do not, try and recreate the past… You will find no life there, only shadows of disappointment at what used to be.
Did you know that the very best actors never try to do the same take twice?
They never try to repeat a performance.
Why?
Because it won’t have “life” in it. When you watch it, you will feel like they are stuck, not really listening, not really alive in their imagination.
A great actor knows that every moment is unique.
It is the same for you and me.
Do you want a fresh start?
Or are you trying to recreate what you have lost?
Imagine asking a new romantic partner to act exactly like the last one?
Weird right?
There could be no real connection.
Sally kissed me this way.
Rub my back like Bob used to?
Could you please try to make the lasagne just like Sarah did?
This would be a doomed relationship. No curiosity, no spontaneity, no fresh discoveries.
I guess I am asking you to consider the possibility that being stuck in the past is a form of early death.
A fixed commitment to a rigid belief that your life will never be that good again.
I hate pessimism.
I dislike control.
It really, really fucks me off when someone, anyone, tells me that something is impossible or that it cannot be done.
It feels dark, fearful, dreary, and easy.
I loved my father, but he was a pessimist, and it drove me crazy.
My single greatest quality rests in my imagination and my ability to conceive impossible things.
Conceive = conception and conception = new life.
As you read these words, written in this go-anywhere, riffing kind of style, I ask you to do one thing for me.
Wonder.
Just wonder. Not for me, but for yourself.
I wonder what great things you will do with the rest of your life?
I wonder what coming more fully alive might look like?
I wonder how you would walk through this world if you were living your best, boldest, and bravest life?
Don’t try to answer these questions yet.
In fact, refuse to answer them.
The power of the question is the consistent asking of it, not the answering of it…
Which brings me back to the rock at the beach, 18 months ago, and the birth of the new Gee-off.
Transformation happens when you simultaneously accept and refuse to accept your current circumstances.
For example:
I was fat, unfit, and a million miles away from living my best life. I had to accept this truth. To grow, I had to acknowledge the reality of my circumstances.
What about you?
What current truth are you denying?
How are you detaching from your present reality?
I don’t mind if you grab a pen and jot down notes and a journal as you read.
I pretty much detest self-help books that give you action items at the end.
Just pay attention to how my words might be affecting you.
If you are getting annoyed, please keep reading. I am like fine wine that gets better with age.
Back to my point:
Accept your reality. Reject your reality.
Geoff. x
P.S. For our paid readers tomorrow, I will explain how to reject your reality and truly grow. Support my writing by subscribing below
Read the next Chapter here