(I036) Creator or Complainer?

"Excuses," my father says, "are an abdication that one does to step down and give up a major responsibility."

I have to let that settle in. He often uses words that take a while to unpack.

I drop him off for his surgery and start the long drive back to Penetanguishene, my six-year-old in the back. And on this drive, his words are helping me pull it all together. I'm thinking about the almost impossible contrast of this past week. In the same few days that I’ve been navigating hospitals and supporting my family, I also submitted my final manuscript—taking a huge step toward the goal I set for myself for 2025: "becoming an author."

And this gives me a moment of clarity. The choice I made two years ago—to be a creator, not a complainer—is what allows me to see this week for what it truly is.

It’s not a week of crisis competing with a milestone. It’s simply a week of my life, fully lived. It's proof that when you stop making excuses, you unlock the capacity to hold it all. And the way to do that, I’m learning, is to let the light through. There's a Japanese word for this: Komorebi (木漏れ日), the dappled light that filters through the leaves of trees. It’s a beauty created by the spaces in between.

This is the opposite of being the one who carries it all, a solid wall with no cracks. It's about being flexible enough to have gaps where grace and clarity can find their way in.

This last week with my mom reminds me of her mindset, too. If you feel like you're fighting against something, she taught me, you have to reflect: is that fight really worth it? Nature teaches us that sometimes you need to go with the flow, and sometimes you need to push through to make change.

Wisdom is knowing when to do each one.

And that, I realize, is the deepest meaning behind that Maya Angelou quote,

"Nothing will work unless you do."

The real "work" isn't just the pushing, the creating, the endless hustle. That’s only half of the equation. The other half is the deep, internal work of knowing when to surrender, when to be present, and when to simply flow. The "work" is the wisdom to know the difference.

My aging parents on one side, my young child on the other. This "sandwich era" of my life is why I chose to write my own story; one where I could have the freedom to push on my manuscript at 2 AM, and the flexibility to flow with a family member in need when it matters most.

When you are centered in your "why," you become intentional. You know which fights are worth it. You know what will give you a return on energy. You begin to own your own story.

And then, you can make choices with freedom.

Ensō, Victim or Mastery? Creator or Complainer? I choose mastery and to be a creator over a complainer.

What about you?

P.S. The wisdom to know the difference between pushing and flowing comes from having a practice. I'm teaching the framework for this in my live session next week: Culture Kata: Story, Presence, and the Way You Connect. JOIN ME!

A Kata (型) is a Japanese concept for a 'practiced way of being'—a deliberate routine that shapes how you show up with clarity, especially under pressure.

Don't miss this session, because learning your Kata is the bridge between the story you've been living and the one you are consciously choosing to create.