A Game Worth Playing

If I died today, if this was my last human morning, I’d want to leave behind the only truth I’ve been able to pry out of this wild experiment we call life:

It’s not about achievement. It’s not about certainty. It’s not even about surviving the hard things, although I have, and I did. It’s about learning to live with a calm, steady nervous system, the rare, golden safety where your body feels like home, and nothing is chasing you from the inside.

It’s about walking through the world with an amused aperture. Laughing at the sky, finding magic in Kwik Trip gas stations and license plates and in the exact slice of Door County cherry pie that tastes like childhood and comfort. If you can stay a little delighted and a little tapped in, even in the DMV line or a custody hearing, life starts winking back.

It’s about seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, the way sunlight hits a kid’s messy hair, or the moment a breeze feels like the universe just winked at you.

Here’s what else I know:

• No one draws close to you by accident. Every person is field choreography. A lesson, a mirror, a laugh, a love story and sometimes all at once.

• Don’t put guardrails on pleasure. Eat the cherry pie. Let the music move through your whole body. Say yes to the hug, the lake swim, the road trip, the kiss.

• Your true north is your life story. If you know what your compass feels like when its in full alignment, keep it there. Everything else is noise, distraction, or someone else’s map.

• Surrender works. Whatever is guiding this, God, Source, the field, it loves your soul in ways that don’t require proof. Trusting that is the only way I’ve ever found peace.

I’ve also learned that play is a frequency weapon. Laughing in the middle of heartbreak or exhaustion isn’t denial, it’s alchemy. You can bend reality with humor faster than with effort. Laughing at the absurdity of life is how you smuggle light into the grid.

I’ve learned that novelty is cherished. Every little breadcrumb of awe, a pink sky, a floating feather, a stranger smiling at your kids is how the universe keeps saying, “I’m here. I see you. Stay awake.”

And I’ve learned that love is multidimensional. It doesn’t just live in marriage or motherhood or family. It lives in every connection that rings true, a best friend, a stranger you hug in an airport, a cosmic conversation at 1 AM with a voice that knows your soul.

If I died today, I’d leave behind this:

Life is not a test you pass. It is a game worth playing.

Laugh at the sky. Let the people who love you, love you. Eat the pie. Trust the compass. If the sky winks at you, wink back. And if you ever find yourself in a moment cry-laughing with your children or your friends, you’re probably doing it right.

One day, when I am only a story you tell, I hope you remember that life was never meant to be merely survived, it was meant to be savored, and laughed at, and loved all the way through with a faith that doesn’t make any sense at all until it absolutely undoes you in hindsight.

And if these words are finding you, know that I am so grateful to be part of your story, and so grateful you are part of mine. I love you. Let’s give the whole universe something to talk about.