Don’t Follow Your Bliss

The lie that keeps creators stuck

Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss.” I think that’s a bunch of horse shit. There is no bliss in the hero’s journey—only compulsion, sacrifice, and the madness of doing it anyway.

The only reason I’m living my life this way is because my brain has dis-ease.
I am tortured by my own volition—a perturbation of thought that numbs my sense of danger, curbs my desire for comfort, and pushes me toward desires just out of reach.

It’s a lack of contentment with the status quo.
A haunting desire to change the world.
And to be surrounded by those who feel the same way.

Like the Greek tragedy of Tantalus, I’m eternally damned to live in an orchard that never satisfies and to walk through a clear river that never quenches my thirst.

It’s not because I want more.
It’s because I want different.

I can’t help but write. What else can I really do?
Money, love, cars, jobs, friends, food—none of it matters in the long run.

There’s no sugar-coating it: entrepreneurship and writing are mad activities.
And I’m a madman for pursuing both.

These are my ways of finding belonging in a world I never felt part of. Maybe there will be bliss one day, but I no longer expect it.

I don’t write for glory.
I don’t run a company because I’m the best at anything.

No.

I do these things because I would sink into my own dark web of thoughts if I didn’t.

These words I write are pills I swallow to live.
My fiction book Rafiki is my most loyal friend.
Every sentence feels like an injection of life into my veins—an exhale, a lightness.

Every person I work with at The Human Dash gives me another reason to live.
The road I’ve taken may be leading nowhere, but I can still be a sherpa for others who get lost along the way.

It’s not about chasing big ideas or methodical goals.
Both my writing and my business are ways to organize the chaos of my mind—
to offer you something tasty, made from the strange creatures that dwell in the dark recesses of my soul.

Everyone wants to dream big.
Everyone wants to be creative.
Everyone wants to succeed.
But no one wants to admit what it really takes.

The truth is that it takes everything.
Are you ready to give up everything?

“If you’re going to try, go all the way.
You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire.
You will ride life straight to perfect laughter.
It’s the only good fight there is.”
— Charles Bukowski

If you’ve been here reading my essays over the past four years, you’ve had a first-person view of what these dreams have cost me.
The more steps I take forward, the more sacrifices I make, and the more people I lose.

I wish I could tell you it’s all worth it.
I can’t.

I’ve tried to present my life here exactly as it is. You’ve been with me on this journey for gumption.
And today, I need to tell you—it’s actually not worth it.

If you can live a life of comfort wrapped in money, religion, parties, or politics—then by all means…do it.
The world is full of lies about success.

Don’t be a writer.
Don’t quit your job.
Don’t leave your marriage.
Don’t start a business.

Unless you have to.
Unless you must.
Unless it would kill you not to.

Then fine—go all the way.
Become the writer, the comedian, the painter, the founder.
Expose yourself to the harshness of life.
Take the leap.

But only if you can’t help it.
Only if doing it is its own reward.

Don’t expect much from the world except the quiet dignity of knowing that you have honored yourself.

Do it if dignity matters more than comfort.
If good conversations matter more than your bank account.
If you’re okay dying for it.

And while you’re at it…

Don’t fake happiness.
Don’t force a smile.
Don’t try to resonate.

Just do it—and keep doing it.
Until your last breath.

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