Brave Enough
Letters on fear, courage, and meaning

The moment I reached my biggest goal, I expected joy. What I found instead taught me that achievement isn’t the treasureit’s only the map.

"What is it again, exactly?" My professor asks, confused.

"It's an educational conference...of sorts," I respond, desperate to secure her approval and avoid any more questions.

She seems to consider it for a moment and I hold my breath, hoping that my class participation had scored some favor I could now redeem.

Then, she regains determination to maintain her reputation as an immovable object, and dashes my hopes. "Hmm, no, I'm keeping my policy: you must be here to take the exam in-person on Friday, no exceptions," she replies.

I wince, hurt by her disapproval and squeeze out, "Okay, thanks for your consideration."

I walk down the hall from her office and accept the outcome that I expected all along: I'll just have to miss it.

You see, I had no intention of skipping my "educational conference" for some exam.

My values had been set for a long time, and I saw school as little more than a side project while I constructed the life I desired.

And this "conference" was the key that would unlock my wildest dreams.

I had tickets to a 3-day self-improvement seminar hosted by Brendon Burchard my closest thing to a savior.

There was no chance of giving it all up for a grade. And I didn't.

I skipped the exam, flew to San Diego, and enjoyed three full days of feverish note-taking, jumping, and yelling.

I was certain that this path one of obsessive self-improvement would take me to where I wanted to go: happiness.

The habits kept me moving, but the milestone was what I longed for.

Within the year, I'd fulfilled my most fervent aspiration to build a remote income stream that enabled me to travel the world.

The moment after I signed that liberating contract, I went for a swim in the warm Hawaiian water to savor my success.

I thought it would feel like freedom. Instead, it felt strangely hollow.

And I knew something was wrong with my approach.

We've all heard the cliche that achievement doesn't bring happiness. I don't fully believe that achievement builds confidence, discipline, and a sense of possibility.

But .

In Lifting My Gaze, I wrestled with how the pursuit of self-improvement can mask deeper needs. Here too, I was beginning to see that what I craved wasn’t more progress, but a different kind of wholeness.

Often what we’re really chasing through achievement is something deeper to be loved, to belong, to not be alone.

Self-improvement, too, can be another way of saying: “If I just become more, maybe I’ll be worthy.” But the love that heals us isn’t based on performance.

It holds us before we change, and after.

I thought I wanted freedom. I thought I wanted success. What I needed was to be known and to rest in that love at the end of the day.

It’s impossible to truly rest if you’re always on stage, one mistake away from losing your worth.

True peace requires the understanding that your worth is not your output. And the best way to learn this is to find someone who can teach it to you.

So, maybe the real question isn't "What do I want to achieve?" but "Who will be by my side when I get there?"

And maybe that’s the true treasure worth seeking.

With love,
Ryan

P.S. If this letter made you think of someone, please consider passing it along. It means more than you know.