The Unpaved Path

Reflections from a post-surgery summer, a gravel driveway, and an argument for the American Dream.

Late summer, how are we here already? I just returned from a brief escape from the Oklahoma humidity for the welcome respite of Colorado, at the Broadmoor, and was reminded that we are, arguably, at the “end” of the season. This trip was planned for over a year to serve as the punctuation mark at the end of summer, before “it” all begins. We’re either mentally gearing up for school to start, or the fourth quarter (or both).

Aside from being one of the most stunning (and long-standing) hotels in America, the Broadmoor is steeped in history. I spent the week wandering the halls, admiring the artwork and quotes of the American West. The place is steeped in history, and visible reminders of the American Dream that led settlers to the Springs.

The Broadmoor now stands as a symbolic beacon of those who believed a better future lay ahead, and pioneered a path west. The heritage is rich in its simplicity.

Earlier this year, I was trying to explain the concept of the American Dream to my best friend in Canada. Frankly, I didn’t realize how much I’ve taken this inherent concept for granted. Maybe it’s because I was raised in a family of entrepreneurs, but I genuinely believe that the American Dream is instilled in every American.

The “American Dream” may feel like a heady concept, but at the end of the day, it’s the wild audacity to listen to the quiet voice that says we can change our future, we can break barriers; we can rewrite the script to our lives. It’s the knowing that you can overcome odds stacked against you through grit, hard work, and perseverance; a story of finding (or creating) opportunity against all odds. It’s a concept personified by stories of rags to riches, of gumption, grit, and ingenuity.

Ironically, a friend sent me an article titled “The Dark Side Of The American Dream” one morning while I sat amongst this heritage on display. To summarize: researchers studied over 70,000, and found that those who set their focus on being “the best” have significantly worse outcomes in their intended field of success than those whose focus is on internal success; success on their own terms. Ie, external v. internal competition.

In other words, (as I’ve been studying for years), we’re witnessing not just a split in the concept of the American Dream, but a Renaissance of it. And for some, a misinterpretation. Those who interpret the concept to mean external success are at a crossroads of disillusionment. Those who instead consider success as an internal metric don’t only remain aspirational, they find fruition of that dream.

A “renaissance” is the antithesis of ruination: it simply requires a recalibrated lens.¹

My Recalibrated Path

Or “American Dream”, if you will. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve studied this concept; the convergence of this conversation at that time and place couldn’t be manufactured, and were eye-opening.

The trip was in the works for two years, but until a week or so before we left, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it at all. I had a major surgery in June, with just days’ notice around Memorial Day Weekend. (The surgery was a complete success, against all odds).

From the outside looking in: this summer it was by no means a “season of success”. In fact, I “missed” the entire summer. I’ve been on bedrest and avoiding screens for nearly two months, and effectively fell off the face of the earth with no notice.

The unseen: it was one of the richest seasons of my life. There’s a certain level of calm, peace, and a strength of spirit that are only found on the other side of a battle.

For the first time since 2018, I am not in pain. I’m not waiting on a surgery. It’s surreal. It feels like I’ve been given a map and told to take any path; for the first time in a long time, it literally feels like shackles were lifted. I am myself again.

I’m also standing at the cusp of a seachange season rivaled only by that which led me to start my firm, and I know I will need every ounce of that strength, discernment, and calm to forge this new chapter of my own American Dream.

I'm honestly proud of the way I endured this season that should have crippled me. But I’ll be significantly more proud if I implement this type of refinement into my day-to-day life. I don’t want to rely upon a trial by fire to forge resiliency, excellence, and the ability to re-write my own life’s script. True resiliency is actually born in the ability to build in those moments of recalibration in the everyday, and I believe the recognition and implementation of this is the differentiating factor.

The Driveway

My summer veered so sharply from the usual, with such short notice, I’ve suddenly found myself in a quiet (good, often overlooked) place. The same day I celebrated the minuscule milestones of post-op (washing my hair!), I also cheered on friends who are moving and shaking this summer (opening studios! Speaking at NASDAQ! Moving cross-country!).

Aside from washed hair, there’s no metric to measure here. I’ve been sitting and healing, my pain-free mind running unshackled; trading hours on a screen for hours looking out our windows.

And, as it turns out, watching the journey each person makes down our driveway.

Unless you know to look for the turn, you’ll likely miss it. There’s no sign, just a break in the trees that leads down a long, winding gravel road.

This summer, I noticed something: whether it’s my family coming to visit; my husband coming home from a long day of work, even the UPS guy; every traveler has to intentionally slow down when they hit the gravel. Gravel only allows you to go so fast, after all.

Whatever was on their mind on the way in has to be momentarily put to the side for the next 300 yards. I watch them jolt out of their reverie, and look up.

This time of year, they’re met with wildflowers on one side, and curious horses from the other. Every inch they pass is the result of stewardship. That’s not just a horse in the pasture-that’s the colt I trained 25 years ago, now enjoying his golden years. That’s not just a beautiful fence- that was built by hand by my husband, my dad, and my uncle. That barn poking through the trees? It’s been here for nearly a century. Those woods? I saved for three years to clear them out, and planted a meadow I took my niece to see this morning. Look closely, and you’ll probably see the herd of deer we share the land with.

We’ve been here three years this month, and of course I’ve been asked when we’re going to pave the driveway. The honest answer? I have no intention of doing so.

While yes, it was the accidental “COVID build” budget cut, it’s turned into something else. A built-in reminder to get off your phone, and look up. Consciously or not, you shift out of high gear, if even for a moment. Nearly to a person, that "inconvenience" turned into an invitation to slow down in every sense of the word. There’s nothing formal to announce our visitors; except their countenance has changed. It has a grounding effect. And sometimes, that’s all we need for a paradigm shift.

What this summer taught me:

I want to intentionally seek out the easy-to-miss “gravel road” moments in my high-intensity daily life. (I’m not talking about a “slow summer”; even if it could happen, that wouldn’t be my modus operandi).

I don’t want to be so blindly arrogant to the everyday, arrogantly waiting on the “lightening bolt” moment to help me forge my new path. I want my quiver to hold the arrows of discernment that allows me to see those invitations in the humble moments of the everyday.

You don’t have to once-in-a-lifetime stay at the Broadmoor to realize the broad expanse of opportunity in front of you; you can use the tiny lessons in a humble gravel road to course-correct on the daily.

That whisper of intuition that tells you to forge a new path isn’t accidental. God doesn’t place dreams on your heart arbitrarily. If you’re supposed to achieve it, you will. But you can miss it, so easily. The focal point of your attention dictates the direction of your life.

I don’t want to be on autopilot, and I also don’t want to rely on a life-changing event to shift course. While it’s true that you likely will never meet someone massively successful who hasn’t gone through something that nearly destroyed them, you don’t need a life-changing event to get there either. There’s a middle road; we can build in ways to “downshift” or recalibrate in the every day.

The recognition of those moments to shift out of high gear, and learning how to do so, are the separating factor.

As one commenter of the aforementioned article mentioned: “the things in which we work on, and the way in which we work on them, also work on us. The word ‘character’ comes from the Greek ‘charassein’, meaning ‘to engrave or stamp upon’. When we throw ourselves into worthwhile projects and pursuits, we engrave or stamp upon ourselves the type of person we are becoming.

You don't become better in any measurable way for where you get, but rather, for what occurred in the process to get there. That’s where excellence and resilience are born.”

This summer has taught me so much, but I hope I never forget that this trial by fire was a unique (hopefully once in a lifetime) event. Frankly, not everyone is lucky enough to have such a jarring experience force them to stop and recalibrate.

I never want to get complacent enough to believe resiliency is only found on the other side of an earth-shattering event. Recalibration isn’t circumstantial, it's a choice. And the finely-honed skill of recalibration is the humble bedrock of resiliency.

As that article illuminated, there in fact is no finish line- there is no “west to be discovered”. Because the definition of a rich life has nothing to do with where you arrive. A richness of life is found when we continue to cultivate ourselves; pushing and refining our own narratives and forging a new path. The attention of the everyday is a vote in the direction of who we are becoming.

1. “In this Current Era, however, a quiet shift has occurred. In a culture somewhat defined by a focus on achievement, most notably, the American Dream today examines the potential of the richness that can be created within a life, nearly in tandem with the traditional focus on upward mobility. Arguably, this era, more than what any other current generations have witnessed, there’s also a focus on slow living, and living well. The latter, defined as much by fullness of life alongside financial prosperity. The recognition that opportunities can be unearthed right where you’re at, even in the darkness. Returning to what is truly good.” The Modern Renaissance And The Redefinition Of The American Dream