If that question stumps you, good! It’s a stupid question and you shouldn’t answer it because it’s built on three rather faulty assumptions:

1. Your real dream is costly. Think about the word dream for a minute. When you think about it, does it conjure up expensive thoughts in your mind? Do you think of champaign, yachts, exotic beaches and the lifestyles of the rich and famous? Or perhaps you’re more utilitarian. You dismiss the whole notion of dreaming as a frivolous waste of time. You’ve got real world problems and you don’t have time to dream. Why? Because dreams are expensive and out of practical reach, or so you’ve been led to believe by billboards enticing you to dream. Why not? You’re just about to win the lottery. But do you really want to suspend a dream for the price of a lottery ticket?
2. Your real dream can be purchased. Implicit in the question about money being “no object” is the idea that having unlimited resources will somehow resuscitate a dream lying dormant within you. If you’re waiting for financial “freedom” before pursuing your dream, then you don’t love it enough to work for it. You’ve sidelined a pursuit that can teach you more about yourself for a simple transaction that may never materialize. Don’t buy your dreams. Earn them.
3. Your real dream can be achieved instantly. You and I live in an instant gratification culture. Mobile phones and Facebook can keep you instantly connected. Day trading can give you instant investment results. No hassles, zero percent instant credit financing can get you into a new car, instantly. Why not dreams? Just imagine what you could do instantly if money were no object. No work. Just outcome. Like water flowing to the path of least resistance, the appeal of instant success, however remote, trumps the perseverance to pursue a dream no matter how long it takes. That kind of pursuit takes creativity. Not the kind of creativity to entertain ideas of what you would do with a financial windfall, but rather the sustained and tireless creativity that comes from leaning into the challenges with a long obedience in the same direction, as Eugene Peterson puts it.

The next time you see one of those billboards brazenly asking “What’s your dream?” while offering a chance to win that mega-jackpot, just smile. And shout back to it, “It’s none of your business. You have nothing to do with it.”

What are other assumptions or messages you’ve noticed around you?

As a writer and aspiring author, among other things, I subscribe to a number of blogs from more accomplished writers for inspiration and to pick up some nuances of the craft. One of the blogs I follow is No Rules Just Write, the blog of the New York Times bestselling author CJ Lyons. In one of her recent posts, she outlined what she had accomplished this year (as of mid-June). Her list blew me away:

• Wrote a mainstream thriller (85,000 words)
• Wrote a young adult thriller (70,000 words)
• Wrote a romantic thriller (76,000 words)
• Revised and edited three books
• Launched another book and prepped yet another for launch.

Can you spell OMG? That’s nearly a quarter of a million words. I have a hard time with 5,000.

Following her list of accomplishments she writes, “Makes me dizzy just to think of it!”

What makes her dizzy makes me sick. How does she do that? How could I ever do that?

That’s when I remind myself of three important truths:

1. I’m the only one I need to beat. My race should be measured by my relentless pursuit of better, not my present output, nor my standing compared to others. I’m more likely to rally the support of others when I’m seeking to outdo myself rather than to best another.
2. My work will look different. Sure, it will contain words like CJ Lyon’s, likely far fewer, but it will be packaged for a different audience. And with a different unassailable voice; mine.
3. It’s not a zero-sum game. Another’s excellence does not diminish the need for my own contribution. Instead, I can be inspired knowing that if they can perform at that level, perhaps one day I will too.

So bring it CJ Lyons. I’m inspired by your pursuit and sitting a little more erect this morning, sleeves up, ready to go.

What are some ways others have inspired your pursuit?

At a board meeting I was leading a few months ago, an invited guest began his presentation. As he did so, one of his comments caught me off guard. “I decided to change my first name to honor my dad, Edgar.”

He once had a nice ordinary name: John. Now his preferred first name is John Edgar.

Ever since I can remember, I wanted an ordinary name. Initially, my name was ordinary: L-A-R-R-Y. That’s the way the nurse spelled it on my birth certificate until my dad asked her to change it to its present spelling. Why he did that remained a mystery until many years later, after I had named children of my own. It was then, and only by the winsome coaxing of my wife, that he disclosed that I was the namesake of a fellow comrade he served with in World War II.

Up to that point, I had thought often about changing my name. In high school, I even tried to get my friends to call me “LJ” (my first and middle initials). But that was short-lived. LJ doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue and I was not enough of a tough guy to enforce it. Nor did I have a middle name to tell the world, as many kids do when they favor one name over another. I was given an initial only; presumably an abbrievated reference to my father’s name, Joseph.

I’ve since come to accept the peculiar spelling of my name. No longer do I correct people when they pronounce the “e” long as in “peer” rather than “pear.” With a rimshot you might say I’ve grown less leery. What once was forefront in my thinking slipped into the subconscious. Until I met John Edgar.

The commitment he demonstrated to honor his dad by taking on his name struck a chord with me, particularly because he adopted such an untrendy one. Naming one’s prodigy is among the most profound things a father does. And John Edgar returned the favor, not by naming his father, but by carrying his dad’s unconventional name everywhere he goes.

While I have no plans to change my name, John Edgar’s action made me think less about shedding the vestiges of my dad’s influence and more about amplifying them.

How will you honor dad this Father’s Day?

Paying to work for someone seems silly, right? Sure, we might say we love our jobs so much that we’d pay to work there, but we don’t really mean it.

Every form of labor is an exchange, however. We give up something in exchange for a paycheck, a benefits package, and a meaningful role. The “something” we surrender is our part of the exchange–our payment. It includes the obvious: the time we spend working and the skills we bring to the job.

Those with “demanding” jobs know something about the obvious. They know about the sacrifices they make to get the job done. They give up meal times with family, vacations, even their health for the sake of the company. They are the company heroes and rising stars.

I had one of those jobs. Frequent travel, work on weekends and an endless stream of demands began to affect my health. Knowing I needed a break, my wife, Anna would ask when things might let up. “Two weeks,” I’d tell her. Those two words became a standard refrain. When two weeks passed, a new set of demands pushed the relief horizon out another two weeks.

Paying that kind of price is easy to spot, especially with the help of family members and friends that care about you. But what about other payments you might be making for your job? What about those hidden fees, we might not even be aware of?

Months after I left to start my own firm, with its own demands in “the exchange,” I discovered three hidden fees I’d been paying all along:

1. The availability fee. Most jobs requires your presence during “normal business hours.” We’ve grown accustomed to this and manage other demands around it. To mitigate the availability fee, a number of companies have embraced the workplace flexibility movement and ROWE, in particular, by putting the focus on outcomes over physical presence. Recently Yahoo and several other notable companies made headlines by rescinding ROWE, including Best Buy where it was conceived. But the availability fee you may be paying may be more than just your presence in the office during business hours. Our always open, internet accessible, work cultures increasingly demand always available employees; those who respond to emails at all hours and are expected to do so. Heathy boundaries for rest from work becomes increasingly difficult to erect.
2. The income fee. It seems oxymoronic to think of income as a fee, but ask yourself, “Am I free to leave my job anytime I want?” If the loss of income or the abandonment of stock options is your primary concern, you may be staying put for the money. If so, it’s like having negative equity in your home; moving seems impossible. To protect that income you may be more willing to pay higher availability fees too.
3. The creativity fee. About six months after starting my own business I began experiencing a resurgence in creative energy. Others whom I have spoken with have reported a similar resurgence after leaving their prior jobs. This is natural and you don’t have to start a business to experience it. Any change of environment can help restore your creativity. That’s because we subconsciously start to limit our thinking to the constraints of our environment. It’s called group think. Why waste precious time on an idea that’s bound to get shot down? That’s why companies hire guys like me to come in and shake things up. While cultures might praise “out of the box” thinking, very few actively cultivate it. As a result, our creativity erodes without our knowing it. Talk about a hidden fee.

The question isn’t whether or not you’re paying hidden fees; it’s how much are you paying? Even the most satisfying of jobs extract hidden fees. Knowing what they are gives you the freedom to decide how you want to pay them.

What are some of the hidden fees you’ve paid to a job?

We’re saturated with linear and sequential processes. First this, then that. The fact is, we’re so used to linear, sequential thinking that we don’t stop to think about how it may be hindering the pursuit of our dreams.

Linear thinking focuses on dependencies and sequence. Prerequisites matter. One cannot (or rather should not) move on to the next thing until the current thing is perfectly complete.

Linear thinking tells us that:

• We should hold off starting that project or business until more money is in the bank, or the kids have left home, or…
• We don’t have the credentials for that dream job, or to write that book, or to teach others.
• We should finish our present obligations before starting something we might like better.
• We earn the right to proceed based on how well we’ve mastered our current work.

Logical, progressive and entirely predictable, linear thinking is safe. Its primary value is to reduce risk.

Non-linear thinking, on the other hand, is risky, random and messy. The focus is on outcomes, not perfection. It can embrace working on steps 1, 3 and 10 at the same time, because doing so increases learning. And learning trumps ordered perfection.

Non-linear thinking tells us that:

• It’s okay to explore projects or business ideas that inspire us; it’s fear that has us putting it off until the “time is right.”
• Credentials come in many forms and, for many endeavors, experience remains one of the best and easiest to come by.
• Exploration is not being irresponsible to our present work; we need not abandon one to learn about the other.
• Fulfillment is more important than mastery; perfection is unattainable anyway and the pursuit of it keeps us doing less inspired work simply to prove ourselves in an arena that doesn’t matter.

It’s not that linear thinking is bad and non-linear thinking is good. We need clear logical and progressive thinking in many endeavors, especially those where safety is paramount (air travel and medical care, come to mind). But have we become so saturated with linear thinking that we can no longer see the small, awkward, and out of place steps we could be taking toward an inspiring dream?

What do you think? How has linear thinking affected the pursuit of your dream?

Into that longing Roman Krznaric’s book, How to Find Fulfilling Work (Picador, 2012), offers a not a compass, but a toe-hold. A compass implies a singular heading to finding fulfilling work. Instead, Krznaric rightly observes that there are many facets of our own personalities and interests and therefore many possible avenues for meaningful work.

“The desire for fulfilling work—a job that provides a deep sense of purpose, and reflects our values, passions and personalities—is a modern invention,” he points out. Not long ago professions were both limited in scope and, more or less, assigned by one’s parents. Now, the range of options is limited only by your courage to choose among countless defined positions or your imagination to create one of your own.

Options can breed both anxiety and hesitancy, however. How do you choose among them? Krznaric suggests three steps to finding a fulfilling career:

1. Understand your fears of leaving a job and starting a new one. Knowing what keeps you from moving forward is essential to overcoming your resistance to do so. That may simply be the sunk cost of having spent so much time doing what you’re doing. “This sense that we might be squandering everything we have struggled to achieve is one of the greatest psychological barriers facing those contemplating career change,” writes Krznaric.
2. Reject the myth of a single, perfect job. None of us have a singular talent, skill, or interest. So, why should we expect to find that perfect job? Instead, there’s a range of meaningful career options that could suit our character and we should remain open to exploring them; either as a ‘Renaissance generalist’ or a ‘serial specialist.’
3. Act first, reflect later. Krznaric argues that experimentation trumps testing and career contemplation. He suggests three forms of experimentation: ‘radical sabbaticals’—short term breaks from your current job to explore new roles; ‘branching projects’—temporary assignments volunteering, teaching, and/or shadowing others; and, ‘conversational research’—getting outside your normal social structure to meet people in roles you may be contemplating.

While the author’s last name may not be easily readable, Krznaric’s book, certainly is. If you’re contemplating a career change, his book may help you break free from a life of quiet desperation.

What do you find most fulfilling about your work?

Despite the inconvenience of the wait, its start-up routine is essential and unchanging. The CPU, memory integrity, and other hardware components are methodically tested and the operating system is loaded. Until that routine completes, I’m waiting. Nothing I do can speed it up, nor would it be in my best interest to interrupt it. Its state is unreliable until it finishes.

You and I have start-up routines as well. How we get ready for our day may have been established so long ago that we’ve become oblivious to the sequence. And if we’re not intentional about it, in our haste to get going, we may short-circuit the preparation we need to operate at our very best. That’s especially true when we’re anxious or overworked.

Reassessing our morning routine isn’t easy, but if we want to live more intentionally, it’s the best place to start. That requires asking some important diagnostic questions such as:

• How am I preparing for the day beyond personal grooming?
• Do I regularly take time to read, reflect, journal and pray?
• Is exercise and/or stretching a regular part of my morning routine?
• Do I mentally prepare for what’s ahead?
• Have I allowed email, social media or the TV to distract me from my morning prep?
• How much time do I want to devote to my start-up routine?
• What am I willing to sacrifice to get up earlier, if necessary, to do these things?

Your morning routine is the first opportunity you have to tap into the renewed supply of willpower that you accumulated during sleep. Your battery is topped off. Decision making is at its peak. Why not use the first part of your day making sure your most vital systems are working?

What are some of your vital start-up routines?

Recently, I read an article where the author suggested that the answer to that question is the key to finding your purpose. His idea is that the thing you want to be the best in the world at, is the thing you should devote your life to. It’s a variant of the popular notion that if you’re not the best, you’re invisible.

I think it’s bad advice. And here’s why.

Researchers have shown that those who measure their progress against others—those who have performance goals—may do well in the short term, but are more likely to lose motivation when failure hits than those who measure their progress against themselves—those who have mastery, or self-improvement, goals. Competing against another puts you in the position of being your own worst critic. Any effort that falls short of another’s, regardless of how much improvement you may have shown, is failure. Eventually, you’ll quit in exasperation and begin looking for something else to be best in. That cycle will repeat itself until you conclude that you’re no good at anything. Perhaps that’s why the Bible says that those who measure themselves by comparing themselves to others are not wise (2 Corinthians 10:12).

It’s a subtle but powerful set of assumptions, one that Stanford researcher Dr. Carol Dweck calls the fixed mindset. I lived with it for years and still catch myself in it at times. I know I’ve succumbed to a fixed mindset when I:

• Feel good about my accomplishments only when they exceed others’.
• Worry about how I’m perceived by others and alter my behavior accordingly.
• Want others to think I’m really smart or capable.
• Believe that my intelligence, personality, character traits are what I’m stuck with.

The alternative, the growth mindset, instead gains satisfaction from personal progress rather than obtaining a specific outcome or external measure of success (such as beating a competitor, getting a 4.0, or achieving a sales award). Those with a growth mindset are more likely to perform well under pressure and remain motivated over longer periods of time. They are relentless learners.

When I’m thinking from a growth mindset I’m more apt to:

• Believe my contribution is important even if it’s not the best.
• Be willing to experiment with activities I have no competency in.
• Know that even my most stubborn traits can be improved.
• Focus on beating myself rather than beating myself up.
• See failure as a way to get better rather than as an indictment of my worth.

The key to finding our purpose lies not in fixing a target to compete with in order to be the best, but rather by trying a variety of things that challenge us to grow. And we’re more likely to do that when we believe that the relentless pursuit of better is best.

What are some of the fixed mindset thoughts you may have had?

Spotting flaws and appreciating the detail in an analysis is an important skill that can avoid costly mistakes and improve decision making. Used carelessly, however and it becomes a weapon of destruction, destroying motivation and undermining creativity.

A number of years ago, one of my direct reports had finished a report I had asked him to prepare and had come to my office to hand deliver it. As I leafed through its many pages, it was obvious he had put a lot of work into it. The look of satisfaction on his face as he delivered it to me quickly turned to one of exasperation, however, when I asked him about a chart that in the middle of the report.

“Damn you,” he said. “You haven’t even read the report and you’ve already found something wrong with it.” Snatching the report from my hands, he headed back to his office to correct the mistake.

That experience left an impression on me. I missed an opportunity to praise a far greater accomplishment by drawing attention to a small flaw. I’ve since come to appreciate G.K. Chesterton’s famous turn of phrase, “If a thing is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly.” There’s more to celebrate in an idea coming to life than its perfect execution.

How might your exacting standards be stifling your own creativity or that of others?

Tonight I’ll give my last message at IronWorks, a ministry I co-founded nine years ago to sharpen men in the applying biblical principles to their very practical world. It’s been a blast but after 108 messages, it’s time to move on. There are other lands to explore.

Last December, on a personal planning retreat, I decided that this would be my last season with IronWorks in order to free up some time to, as they say, “pursue other opportunities.” There are so many things on my yet-to-explore list that I created a t-shirt to express my angst. “So many ideas, so little time,” it says. Several of those ideas involve more writing.

In a way, I’m in a mini-transition. Giving up a known pursuit with all of its rewards and challenges to pursue another has risk. I’m risking the known for the uncertain.

Isn’t that true of any dream we might pursue?

Our present path is predictable; another path is messy. We’re used to the routine of our present pursuits. Doing something wildly different has a way of its own. Our present structures must yield to another. And who knows what that looks like?

Our present path is visible; another path is invisible—at least to others. Our family, friends, and colleagues are used to seeing us do certain things. Switching paths means no longer doing those things or, at least, not all of them. We risk becoming invisible; at least for awhile. And who knows how long that will take?

Our present path is rewarding; another path is uncertain. We know the level of reward we’ve received and can expect. Pursuing a new dream, however, has only imagined rewards. And who knows whether they will really satisfy?

With all the uncertainty, why risk the known for the uncertain? How you answer that question for yourself reveals the size of your dream.

What trade-offs have you made to pursue your dream?