This is your sign

The New York skyline is like a sonnet to many people. For me, though, it spoke one simple line, and it was that line that spoke a sonnet’s length.

“What’s the best that could happen?”

This question has seldom been asked to me. In fact, in therapy, a place where I have often worked through my anxiety and negative thoughts, the opposite has been asked: “what’s the worst that could happen?” We use that question with positive intention — to come to terms with its possibility but not it’s certainty.

I get that. I utilise that tool in my professional and personal spheres. But rarely do I ask the opposite — what’s the best? What’s the crazy awesome possibilities of chasing the dreams that dwell inside you? What’s the hungering that your soul has? What sets your soul alight and steady with a brilliant flame?

I had gotten so used to only trying to avoid calamity, pain, suffering, loss. And many of you can understand why — even in my “privileged life” I have suffered and lost and grieved a lot. I was in “damage control” and “risk mitigation” mode. I had forgotten how to not only contemplate my dreams and hopes, but actually walk in faith of their possibility.

I believe our words have a powerful impact on our reality. “Believe you can and you’re halfway there” is cliche, perhaps, but it’s powerful, too. What are we filling our brains with, the negative words and thoughts about “the worst that could happen”, or with the incredibly creative power of words and thoughts about “the best that could happen?”

Did you know that in creating this world, creating you and I, God decided to think “what’s the best that could happen?” — We are a direct result of faith and belief and trust in the beautiful possible. You and I, and our capacity for gorgeousness, is His mission and “best” — He longs for and operates always with the longing for the “best” — to spend eternity with His creation.

And what’s more, the Creator created us (the created) to be creative thinkers. To be those that ask the question “what’s the best that could happen?”

I step into the fullness of “his image” when I have faith like he has — faith that my life was intentional, planned for goodness and joy and “the best.”