A caged bird unable to fly will go crazy and pluck its own feathers, leaving patches of skin naked and raw. Feather-plucking represents self-inflicted destruction in response to the stress of captivity and loneliness.
Like a captive bird, your dreams will commit ritual suicide if they're held hostage in a cage of reason and self-doubting routine. If held back from realizing their potential, your dreams will turn to cannibalism.
Don't let that happen. Lose yourself today. Free your wildest dreams from the cage that is your logical, must-be-serious subconscious. Give your dreams permission to leap into the abyss of potential. Give them permission to spread their wings and soar through the skies of possibility. Ask yourself, "What if?"
To lead a life worthy of influence we must avoid the urge to 'fit in', even if doing so means risking judgement. We must be eager to set an example, unafraid to stand alone, and always ready to step into the darkness.
If others choose to judge us for leaving the herd instead of respecting our courage to try new things, let that be a sign they are holding more respect for the status quo than for our individual potential as a human being. We are worthy of more respect than the status quo.
I traveled 1,300 miles by foot, car, subway, and two airplanes to watch a spaceship blast off into space. Was it fun? Absolutely. But was my decision to spend time, money, and resources to watch a machine carry humans into space really just another small vote for poverty?
A child is painfully aware, if only subconsciously, that it knows very little. The young brain does not see the world and say, "I know everything; I don't need to learn that." It doesn't make assumptions. A young brain is infinitely curious. Always exploring, always learning, always expanding its horizons and converting the unknown into something that makes sense.
Scientists call this brain plasticity, our brains' ability to evolve, change, and grow based on the experiences and the environments we're exposed to. As we age, our brain becomes less plastic and begins to harden as we convince ourselves that we know. We know how language works. We know how people work. We know how the world works.
But when we expose our brain to something new -- a different set of people, an awkward social situation, a reality that was previously deemed science fiction -- our brain is forced to cope with this new truth. It's forced to grow. It's forced to return to its plasticity and expand. Continue reading
What's the ultimate purpose of life? When you strip away everything, what's left?
I looked up from my laptop and stared out the window to watch the final five minutes of the sun set over the city of Boston. As often happens, questions began popping into my head. What did it all mean? The sun, the Earth, the beautiful colors in the sky. What was the point of all this?
There has always been a piece of me that felt my purpose for being here on Earth was not going to involve starting a family, but suddenly I found myself wondering if that was really the case. I started imagining what it would be like to get married and have kids.
Was my stubborn persistence and vow to always follow my heart causing me to miss out on something really important? Was starting a family part of the purpose for existence? Will my life have been worth living if I don't make procreation a priority?
After the last sliver of orange disappeared over the horizon, I returned to my laptop and posed the question on Twitter and Facebook: What's the ultimate purpose of life? Continue reading
The cage rattled and the creature inside gnawed and pulled at the metal bars. It was a Grey Squirrel, one of several that had chewed a nest into the side of my parents house. My dad was catching and releasing them several miles away with the hope that they would find another place to nest. The trap was designed to cage, not harm, so thankfully the creature inside wasn’t hurt.
Due to the design of the trap, tipping the cage over would cause the doors to unlock and open. The squirrel was definitely big enough to tip the cage over, but instead he paced back and forth and occasionally stopped to gnaw and pull on the metal enclosure.
That’s when I found myself wondering what a human would do if placed in the same situation. Despite there being no indication that tipping the cage over would open the doors, a human would surely try that anyway.
I realized that’s what makes us unique: When the outcome seems hopeless, we test the impossible.