Momentum

“Energy and persistence conquer all things.” – Benjamin Franklin

The flywheel is a metaphor used often in the business world. This morning it felt like a rich metaphor for what I’ve been experiencing in my life.

And in my mind.

I picture a massive metal disc, mounted horizontally, seemingly immovable. It takes tremendous effort to get it moving. At first, it barely budges. But with consistent effort in the same direction, it begins to rotate. Slowly at first. Then faster. Eventually, the flywheel builds so much momentum that it spins on its own.

After years of small, intentional efforts in different areas of my life, that wheel has started to turn. 

The energy is compounding. Momentum is building. And this past week, it surged in a way that feels both unbelievable and, somehow, inevitable.

A future I’ve only recently dared to imagine is starting to reveal itself.

Resistance

For years, fear, doubt, and uncertainty kept me from even trying to move that wheel.

I’ve always felt the presence of the flywheel, especially with writing. It came naturally. I occasionally got signs that I might be talented. But I barely used it.

Why? I never knew what I’d write about. Why would anyone would read or care? and how I could ever make any money from it. 

There were more obvious and easier wheels to spin in the business world. More assured ways to earn a living. Plus, everyone else was spinning those easier wheels. Why would I go searching for something different?

It’s taken me a long time to see the foolishness of that cultural imprint.

At the end of our lives, the things we did just to make money will be at the bottom of the list of what mattered most.

Voices and Vices

What held me back more than anything were the voices in my own head. Voices I once thought were my own.

Only recently did I realize: they weren’t. They were echoes of old fears, beliefs and programming wired into my mind.

And I spent years listening to them. I poured energy into things that seemed important, but ultimately kept me stuck in place.

Layered on top of that were the vices - booze and weed - that numbed the discomfort just enough to keep me in neutral. 

For years, I didn’t even notice how little I was moving. On the outside, life changed. But inside, I was circling the same loop.

As I got older, the cost of “fun” became pain. The hangovers lasted longer. Any steps forward were canceled out by steps back.  And it started to feel like I was taking more steps back overall.

It’s only now that I see how those voices and vices worked in tandem. One fed the other.

New Pathways

As my mind has cleared, the old voices have quieted. Not disappeared, but softened.

Space has opened for a new voice. Quiet. Self-assured. One that may have always been there but just drowned out by the shouting.

That voice is getting clearer the more I let go of fear and trust the process. I feel a sense of alignment that doesn’t need external validation.

Old neural pathways have shut down. New ones are forming. What once required tremendous amounts of intention is now starting to feel effortless. This is how our brains work!

I’ve come to see the mind like one of those giant satellite dishes pointed toward space. Listening for signals from the infinite universe.

For so long, I was creating static. Like a layer of grime on the dish that blocked the signal.

But as I’ve cleared the film, the energy is flowing and the momentum feeds upon itself. 

The Ember

This experience isn’t unique to me.

Within each of us, a fire still burns. It’s the fire that helps fuel our strength to pull on our version of that seemingly immovable wheel. 

Even if it’s buried beneath years of expectations, misdirection, and self-doubt, the ember remains.

And that ember only needs a little breath. A little space. A little belief.

The wheel may look stuck. But it’s waiting. Waiting for you to step up, take hold, and nudge it forward. Gently. Repeatedly. Consistently.

Until one day, it starts to turn. And your reward for the all the unseen effort is the sense of momentum building.

And a new way of being in the world feels not just possible, but inevitable.

-Coach Kris

P.S. One of things I enjoy most about writing this every Sunday is how little things that happen during the week that i barely notice, surface as I reflect.

The metaphor of the ember I closed with was inspired by this beautiful recording which was shared with me by a fellow coach, Jim.

He couldn’t make my presentation this week because he was this seeing this artist perform. I listened to it this morning as I I wrote.

The voice of Ram Dass floats over this serene, meditative track. I encourage you to sit quietly with it, and let the wisdom of his words wash over you.