A Letter from the Fog
Dear fellow Ego-Guardians-In-Training,
If I’m being fully transparent, this next part of the journey—moving from vision to action—feels both exhilarating and daunting. I’ve spent months now weaving together the threads of One Cause—laying out the Great Untruths that got us here, and the Great Truths that could guide us home. We’ve imagined a possible new future or at least a framework for one. We’ve planted the seed of a youth movement. And now… we’re standing at the edge.
It’s time to act.
And here’s where I want to pause and speak plainly. Because if I’ve learned anything from my own path—and from the people I coach and write for—it’s this:
Knowing what to do is not the same as being ready to do it.
Truth is, I’ve been circling this very chapter for days…no, weeks. Each time I sat down to write it, I found myself distracted… hesitant… heavy. And slowly I began to realize: this chapter isn’t just about writing about the roadblocks.
I was inside one.
If you relate to this, leave me a comment so I know I’m not alone.
Some days, it’s resignation that grabs hold. “It’s too late,” it whispers when I read the latest climate data or hear yet another political leader dodge the truth.
On other days, it’s confusion. “Where do I even begin?” I ask, even as I sit in a room full of notes and plans.
And more often than I’d like to admit, I feel that slow fog of overwhelm creep in—when the gap between what I want to create and what I can manage feels too wide to cross.
I used to see these feelings as failures. Signs I wasn’t committed enough. Or strong enough. But now I recognize them for what they are:
They’re the friction before the flame. The fog before the light.
And so I want to offer this to you—whoever and wherever you are on the path. If you’ve ever felt stuck… or small… or unsure how to begin—you are not alone.
There’s a reason we don’t leap into action the moment we learn the truth. There’s a kind of grief to face first. A kind of disorientation. We have to come to terms with the fact that the world we thought we lived in is already changing—and that the solutions will almost certainly not come from the systems that caused the harm.
That’s a lot to hold.
So I say this with love and urgency: Let’s hold it together.
Let’s stop pretending that we have to have it all figured out before we move. Because more often than not, it’s the moving that brings the clarity. Do we wait to feel inspired or do we act knowing that it is through action that inspiration is ignited and sustained?
Action is what clears the fog. Action is what unlocks the flow.
One action that could lead to a community inspired would be to join the chat where you can share your challenges as well as your successes.
It doesn’t have to be grand. You don’t need to launch a nonprofit or write a book although you may choose to do either or both. Maybe it starts with planting one native flower in your yard.
Maybe it’s writing a letter to your grandkids—born or not yet born—about the future you dream for them. Maybe it’s just sitting with the discomfort and not allowing yourself to go numb.
That’s still movement.
That’s still sacred.
So yes, this chapter could have been titled “The Five Barriers to Action” and offered tidy bullet points on resignation, complacency, confusion, overwhelm, and hopelessness.
But I’d rather tell you this:
I’m stumbling through these barriers too. And I believe with all my heart that we can meet them—and move through them—together.
We can turn despair into devotion.
We can compost confusion into clarity.
We can turn stuckness into a seed that breaks open—with just enough light.
Because the truth is, you don’t need perfect clarity to begin. You just need to say yes.
Yes to trying.
Yes to caring.
Yes to showing up, however you can.
And I’ll be here with you as we take those next steps—toward inspired action, and a future worth regenerating.
With muddy boots and an open heart,
Brad
