The gambling analogy is my go-to; it’s intuitive.
Can’t say I gamble much though, I prescribe to the don’t gamble anything you can’t afford to lose mantra. I’ve dabbled at tables and slots, but I’m too left-brained to ignore the odds. I love sports too much to bet on it, seems a sac religious act. Still, gambling is a story I get—stakes and pots, calls and folds, all-in’s and gone busts—because once upon a time, I refused to go all-in and still went bust.
That’s what happens when you don’t understand how the game works. If there’s one rule to the game I now understand in my bones, it’s this: if you make a bet on soul, you can’t lose. No matter the outcome, that decision allows ownership of lessons and what’s next. You keep the ground beneath your feet. You win the game. You own your soul.
I hear you thinking, “What kind of game is this if you win every time? Seems rigged.” Exactly. Think about Kevin Durant joining the Warriors, that’s the level of rigged we’re talking about. But this game isn’t as simple as joining a team that won 73 games in 2015 (I’ve let it go, promise).
If the odds are stacked in our favor that much, what prevents us from taking down the house?
The daunted force that sits across the table: fear.
The game can be won, every time, as long as soul overcomes fear. It’s straight-forward but depends on an important as long as. Soul demands full commitment to win. In the absence of full commitment, fear seeps into the cracks and grows; an experience I can share.
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When I chose medical school, letting fear drive, I put my soul up as collateral—certainly not betting on soul—hoping I’d appease fear and soul. Thanks to the last eight years, I know that’s not possible.
You never gamble your soul; you gamble on your soul.
Diverting briefly to my other favorite analogy, football, I didn’t yet have my goalposts prioritized, thus, I kicked the ball toward wherever fear directed: acceptance, money, and security. And I got all those things but lost what mattered: me.
Last fall I watched Friday Night Lights (the TV series) for the first time. Why? Hard to say, maybe I was missing home, football, or just needed a break from my wife’s relentless consumption of psychological thrillers. Even though I hadn’t seen it, I was familiar with the show’s mantra, rooted so deep in culture it’s outgrown the show itself: Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose.
Soon enough, wherever I went the mantra followed, and there it was playing in my head as I walked my resignation letter to the mailbox. Knowing the cost of betting on fear and in the face of immense fear, I chose soul fully that day, and an eight-year game ended.
When I heard the letter clink the bottom of the mailbox, I knew I’d won; I had my soul back.
(Photo Caption: about one year ago, likely thinking about this exact subject matter)
Angels Landing, at about Scout Point. Beautiful view!
Right on, about one year ago, likely thinking about this exact subject matter!