Of all the talks, videos, and creative projects I’ve gotten to do over the years, this is easily the one I’m proudest of…
Last September, I got the invitation to give a talk at CreativeMornings San Diego.
If you’re not familiar with CreativeMornings, you’re missing out on one of my favorite monthly events and creative communities. It’s not just in San Diego, but in nearly 200 cities around the globe, CreativeMornings hosts breakfast lecture series with each one coalescing around a certain theme.
I’ve been eager to talk at one of these events ever since I started attending back in 2017. This gathering attracts a crowd that I can simply say are my kind of people. Thoughtful. Intentional. Positive.
I finally got my chance last September. And I’m thankful, because so much of the life I’ve lived in between 2017 and 2022 ended up in the talk. I was asked to share on the theme of depth.
I had an absolute blast on stage, and I’m really happy with the story I had a chance to share. Based on the feedback I got afterwards it connected with people. And I got to speak as Philippe the traveler, Philippe the climate storyteller, and Philippe the dad, and explore the relationship between those different parts of my life.
Ever since I’ve gotten to deliver my talk at CreativeMornings, the phrase there’s always more to the story has become my signature. And I’m very much okay with that. It seems to be a theme that plays itself out across many parts of my life.
When I see news stories that make me feel like the world is in bad shape and destined to remain that way, I got to tell myself, there’s always more to the story. This is especially true when I’m confronting an issue that makes me feel strongly, but where I haven’t done a ton of work looking at the solutions, like gun violence. When I see someone like Shannon Watts note a changing zeitgeist and I know she spends every day working on this… I know there’s more to the story.
Whenever I travel, I immediately feel that there’s more to the story than what I’ve been told about a place. I’m someone who spends a lot of time researching and talking to people from different countries, places I haven’t been. And yet, I can never research to the point where I’m still not surprised and mystified by day one of a visit to a new place. Even a not-so-new place!
These days, I can point to some of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through with the gift of hindsight that allows me to say, there was more to the story than I knew at that moment and I am so glad I hung on to see it. Of course it feels different when you’re in the thick of things, but I hope that reminder sticks with me deep within for future hard times. Because, of course, there will be those ahead.
This week isn’t such a hard time. It happens to be my birthday, and I’m realizing that I’m quickly blowing past my “early thirties” and might now be in my “mid-thirties.” What a trip.
An amazing part of getting older is developing more humility and curiosity around things. You see beyond a binary way of looking at things, realizing that nuance and gray areas make the world what it is.
I’ve heard so many people just a little bit older than me talk about this evolution, and I’ve already considered myself somebody who’s pretty comfortable with ambiguity. And I still find myself growing in this direction in surprising ways. Even this phenomenon is something I’m approaching with humility. There are still rights and wrongs and firm convictions, and gray areas can exist because of the presence of black-and-whites… but the humility to recognize the limitations of your own vantage point always sets up something exciting… curiosity.
The more I visit other places, the more I realize that I live in a cultural setting that values head knowledge, explanations, and certainty. And I get it. When everything’s changing, when things are uncertain, it’s very comforting to have some knowledge that feels concrete that you can clutch on to.
The thirst for certainty and true curiosity can be tricky lookalikes. I’ve been in both situations, and I suspect they come from the same inner place. The direction that they lead couldn’t be more different, however. People who chase after being the most enlightened, the smartest person in the room, are also often the most disconnected from the others. Those who are truly curious instead choose to pick apart something, connecting dots until explanations fail experiences. You reach the outer limits of your ability to grasp something and find delight. Maybe even absurdity.
I like the way St. Gregory of Nyssa describes this: “Only wonder understands anything.”
As I receive the gift of another lap around the sun, I’m hoping to spend as much of it as possible in this state of wonder. Whether I’m reading headlines, talking to people in an Ethiopian village, or facing uncertainty in my own life. There’s more to the story. Always.