All my life, I've loved business. I've loved to study power, to learn how the world works, what is broken, and how it can be healed through the levers of worldly influence.
While this passion has its phases of waning and waxing, it's been more or less constant, and from it I've drawn an enthusiasm for topics my artistically-inclined soul wouldn't normally care for—from the global economy to finance, from technology to the growth of change-making businesses in Silicon Valley.
But I've led my life so far with an emphasis only on my minute potential contribution to our collective crossing of the arc of the moral universe. I've focused my all into charting a path towards the destination, individually and collectively. Little room for play, for art, for the holiness of celebrating the present—the less serious things. (And certainly the things less likely to sculpt my career into something impressive, I once believed.)
And what about the journey? What room is then left for joy? Must our world be a world of austere problem-solving, or can it be a dance? An exhilarated expression of pure, child-like delight in the very fact of existence?
Something in me feels the alluring tug of paradox here. Yes, chart a course to higher possibilities. But dance while you travel. Let the music make you move, make you sing—the most glimmering possible realm is one where we're all just singing and dancing anyway. So start now, start today, there is no greater revolution than to wake from the trance of toiling only for tomorrow. Dance.