The vision is the path

I remember the exact moment when my vision became clear.

I like to start with a vision of where I want to end up. That way, all of my potential choices have to earn their place in my life. Meaning, everything has to pass through the filter: does this get me closer to where I’m headed?

I’m sitting around a campfire with a group of close friends. Each person has lived an incredibly interesting and rich life filled with travels, celebrations, and hardship. Wins and losses. Narrow triumphs and beautiful failures. No one’s on their phone. No one’s even wishing they were. We talk about what everyone’s reading and watching. And we tell the stories of our lives. Sometimes they’re stories we’ve heard a million times. Other times, the stories are fresh from last week. We tease and challenge each other from a place of genuine curiosity, figuring out what each of us believes about the world so that we walk away feeling a bit stronger, like human diamonds pressurized just enough to evolve into the most honest versions of ourselves.

And we’re all fucking hilarious, obviously.

Eventually the night is called. Someone grabs a water pail from the 1920s and puts out the fire. We gather our things under moonlight and stand around the ashes for a few moments as the smell of wet birch dissipates and rogue embers zip off in random directions. It’s calm. Quiet. And as we walk away, there’s a feeling of deep aliveness. We’re rejuvenated, replenished, nourished.

That’s it. That’s the vision. It’s so clear to me that I can close my eyes and picture all of what I just wrote in vivid detail. And I remember the exact moment when this vision became clear.

I was having a particularly hard day in a particularly hard few months. I was unemployed and feeling down and directionless, truly unsure of what was “next.” Despite feeling a bit antisocial, my boyfriend, Noah, invited our friend Julia over. No plan, just “let’s order some pizza and hang out and chat.” She came over and we did just that. And because I wasn’t feeling super upbeat, I ended up taking an unusual social backseat and just listened to the two of them go back and forth with random jokes and stories. I remember a specific moment where I became completely wrapped up by them disagreeing over this one story, arguing over who had the details right. “No, there’s no way he was sitting by the window, I was sitting by the window!” “You were NOT by the window, you weren’t even at the table!”

I remember laughing so hard I had tears literally rolling down my face.

And that’s when it hit me: this, actually, is all I need.

Not a bunch of self-help books. Not a billion dollars or being on a yacht. Simply: good people in good conversation, laughing so hard we’re crying. And what’s incredible about this is that I don’t have to wait for some magical future. Or retirement. I live this vision frequently. Sometimes the campfire is a living room. Sometimes it’s a table at a trendy restaurant. Sometimes it’s a literal campfire. Either way, me being in my element is being in conversation with other kind, smart, thoughtful people, delighting in each other’s presence.

I want to argue that having a vision like this is helpful. For me, I find two main benefits. First, I use it as a filter to protect myself from distractions. A night to myself on the couch scrolling TikTok until 1am? That doesn’t help me get closer to the campfire, so that’s a no. A night to myself on the couch reading a few more chapters of my book club book that we’ll discuss in a few weeks? That’s a yes.

“Does this get me closer to the campfire?” is something I ask a lot.

IF yes, THEN do it. IF no, THEN don’t. Pretty simple.

Second, a vision helps me identify the habits, skills, and tools that turn the vision into a reality. If I want to “engage in rich conversation with interesting people” I’d probably want to:

• know how to have rich conversations

  • read a book each month across disciplines

  • subscribe to a podcast known for great conversations

  • learn presence through a meditation practice

  • keep a list of stories about my life & tell them

  • take an improv class to hone listening and wit

• know how to cultivate friendships with interesting people

  • write publicly to develop and share my point of view

  • do things worth discussing (travel, have hobbies, take risks)

  • connect people who can benefit each other

  • host events with a specific purpose

  • follow through on things I say I’ll do

The point is, if my vision was “climb Mount Fuji” or “tour as a musician” then I’d have an entirely different list of things to focus on.

The specific vision I have is less important than (A) simply having a vision and (B) knowing that having a vision creates a path on which to travel.

You might have your own vision right now. If so, great—practice using it as a filter that keeps you headed in the right direction, undistracted. And as a tool to identify what you need in order to get you there.

And if you don’t have a vision just yet, that is the practice. Notice what it feels like when you’re tapped into a moment of joy. When you feel as though you’re in your element. Maybe you’re on a hike. Or maybe you’re at the piano. You never know when you’ll find your vision (or, more likely, when it’ll find you). Mine came to me on a random Tuesday over a hangout with friends that I wasn’t even excited about.

The right vision will feel as though it has some sort of subtle pull—like gravity—that tugs at your chest and calls you toward it.

Keep noticing.