Coffee With My Younger Self

I had coffee with my younger self this week.

He ordered a vanilla latte.
I ordered a coffee with light cream.

I asked him how things were going.
He lied and said everything was good.
Said he liked the work he was doing.
Said he could see himself doing it forever.

I told him a time would come soon,
When he’d be really honest with himself.
When he'd feel it: this season is over.
He’ll be scared to admit it. But he’ll know.

He asked, But what will I do?
How will any of this translate to something else?

I told him there’s a whole world waiting for him
On the other side of a few small, bold decisions.

That the realm of possibility is so much bigger than he thinks.

He talked about fear.
I told him, Yeah. Fear is part of it.
And so is failure.
But that’s alright.
That all the impact we want only happens
When we’re willing to live with both.

When he asked how,
I asked him, “What do you want?
And who’s it for?”

He was quiet. Timid, even.
I told him it was okay.
That I know what he wants—what he really wants.
And it’s okay to say it.

He told me about a future he longed for
But didn’t know how to reach.

I told him:
We only figure out the ‘how’ once we decide to go.

That there are people, moments, insights waiting for him.
Ones he can’t even imagine yet.
But they’re there.
And they all live…
On the other side of movement.

He laughed. Almost giggled. Tears in his eyes.
"Really?"

Really, I said.

But don’t take my word for it.

You’ll only know for sure when you move.

Because everything you want
Lives on the other side of action.