Becoming the Sanctuary
As this episode is released, we find ourselves heading into Fourth of July weekend and the 250th anniversary of the United States. It's a time of year filled with fireworks, parades, family gatherings, and conversations about freedom. But over the last year, I've found myself reflecting on that word in a very different way. Not politically, but personally. Not through the lens of headlines, but through history. Before we go any further, I want to be clear about something. This isn't a political episode. I'm not interested in debating parties, policies, or telling anyone what they should believe. That's not what Becoming the Sanctuary is about. This conversation is about humanity, perspective, and the questions that connect all of us regardless of where we come from. I've always been fascinated by history. Even as a kid, I found myself drawn to the Founding Fathers, the Revolutionary period, and the stories surrounding the birth of this country. I couldn't fully explain why at the time. There was simply something about that chapter of history that kept pulling me back. Over the last year, however, that fascination became much more personal as I began researching my own ancestry. What started as curiosity slowly turned into hundreds of hours spent tracing family lines, reading historical records, and discovering the people whose lives eventually led to mine. Along my grandmother's family line, I discovered that I'm a direct descendant of William Bradford, governor of Plymouth Colony and one of the passengers aboard the Mayflower. I learned that I'm also a direct descendant of Abigail Faulkner, who survived the Salem Witch Trials. Through another branch of my family, I discovered I'm a collateral descendant of John Adams, and I uncovered direct ancestors who fought during both the Revolutionary War and the Civil War. Suddenly, history wasn't just something I was reading anymore. It became something I was connected to. These weren't simply names in textbooks. They were human beings who lived through uncertainty, hardship, hope, loss, and impossible decisions. They were ordinary people who had no idea that centuries later someone would still be telling their stories. As I continued reading about that period of history, one phrase kept appearing over and over again: The American Experiment. I found myself captivated by that word, experiment. An experiment assumes something incredibly important. It assumes you don't already know the outcome. It assumes you're willing to try something that has never been done before, to learn from mistakes, to refine what isn't working, and to leave room for future generations to continue the work. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I don't believe the people who began this country thought they were creating something finished. I think they knew they were beginning something. Something that would be challenged. Something that would evolve. Something they themselves would never live long enough to see completed. At the same time, studying history also reminded me that remarkable ideas can exist alongside remarkable blind spots. The ideals of liberty and equality were revolutionary, yet slavery still existed. Women were denied many of the rights we now consider fundamental. The Indigenous peoples who had lived on this land for generations often paid an unimaginable price as settlements expanded. Those aren't details we should ignore because they're uncomfortable. They're part of the story. In fact, I think acknowledging them gives us a more honest understanding of history. It reminds us that every generation is capable of extraordinary vision while also being limited by the culture and understanding of its own time. Rather than judging history from a place of superiority, I found myself asking a much more humbling question. If future generations can clearly see the blind spots of those who came before us, what blind spots do we have today? What assumptions are we making that feel completely normal to us but will one day seem obvious to those who come after? Every generation inherits unfinished work, but every generation also leaves unfinished work behind. Progress has never been about reaching perfection. It's been about expanding our understanding of what it means to be human. That realization eventually led me away from history and back toward the present moment. Because perhaps America isn't the only unfinished experiment. Maybe being human is an unfinished experiment too. Every generation faces challenges the previous generation could never have imagined. Today we live in a world of artificial intelligence, endless notifications, twenty-four-hour news cycles, social media, comparison culture, economic uncertainty, and information overload. We know about tragedies happening across the world within minutes. We carry conversations with hundreds of people every week. We are expected to be available, informed, productive, responsive, and emotionally present almost every moment of every day. We consume more information before lunch than previous generations encountered in weeks. Then we wonder why we're exhausted. Maybe nothing is actually wrong with us. Maybe we're simply carrying more than human beings were ever designed to carry. I think one of the greatest misconceptions of modern life is that more information automatically leads to more wisdom. But information and wisdom aren't the same thing. We know more than ever before, yet many people feel more anxious, more disconnected, and more uncertain than ever. We have access to nearly every answer imaginable, yet we're asking deeper questions about purpose, belonging, fulfillment, and connection. Technology has given us extraordinary tools, but it hasn't removed our responsibility to learn how to use them wisely. That's where this conversation circles back to freedom. What does freedom actually mean? Is freedom simply having more choices? Or is it learning which choices deserve our attention? Is freedom having unlimited access to information, or is it knowing when to disconnect? Is freedom about doing whatever we want, or is it about intentionally choosing the kind of life we want to build? As I've reflected on my own journey, I've realized that every meaningful chapter of my life began long before I felt certain. Choosing sobriety. Leaving a successful career. Building Thrivewell. Writing a book. Opening Thrivewell Hub. Starting this podcast. Accepting a new full-time position while continuing to believe in a dream that is much bigger than myself. None of those decisions came with guarantees. They came with hope. They came with uncertainty. They came with a willingness to participate without knowing exactly how the story would unfold. Somewhere along the way, I think many of us stopped treating life like an experiment and started treating it like a final exam. We believe there's one perfect career, one perfect relationship, one perfect timeline, one perfect version of ourselves we're supposed to become. We postpone joy until we feel ready. We postpone purpose until we feel confident. We postpone living until we think we've finally figured everything out. But perhaps certainty was never the goal. Perhaps participation was. One of the guiding philosophies behind Thrivewell has always been a simple question: Why can't it all be true? History can be inspiring and deeply flawed. Human beings can be courageous and imperfect. We can celebrate progress while acknowledging injustice. We can honor the generations that came before us while recognizing there is still work left to do. Those ideas don't compete with one another, they complete one another. The same is true in our own lives. We don't have to be finished to have value. We don't have to have every answer before taking the next step. Healing isn't about becoming perfect. It's about becoming more aware. More compassionate. More curious. More willing to listen. More willing to grow. The experiment isn't over because we still have work to do. The experiment continues because every generation has the opportunity to become a little more human than the one before it. As you celebrate this Fourth of July weekend, I hope you'll take a moment to look beyond the fireworks. Spend time with the people you love. Have conversations that matter. Put your phone down for a while. Look up at the sky. Remember that history has never been shaped only by presidents, founders, or famous names. It has always been shaped by ordinary people making ordinary choices with extraordinary intention. Every act of kindness matters. Every difficult conversation matters. Every time we choose curiosity over certainty, empathy over judgment, and community over division, we participate in something much bigger than ourselves. Perhaps that is the real human experiment. Not becoming perfect. But becoming more fully human. And maybe that's the unfinished work we've inherited. Not simply building a better country. But becoming better neighbors, better communities, better listeners, better stewards, and better human beings than we were yesterday. Because history isn't only something we read. It's something we're writing. Every single day. #BecomingTheSanctuary #ThrivewellEstate #Freedom #AmericanExperiment #HumanExperiment #PersonalGrowth #History #Philosophy #HealingJourney #Mindfulness #Community #Purpose #Compassion #FourthOfJuly #Podcast
9 episodios
Comentarios
0Sé la primera persona en comentar
¡Regístrate ahora y únete a la comunidad de Becoming the Sanctuary!