Dear Family, (all glory goes to God my Lord and Savior)

How are you? How are things lately? Anything I can do for you? You know I'm always one call away.

Anyhow, remember that island I told you about? The one where the population was basically you and a few sticks? Well, I want to tell you what can happen next.

There are moments on this journey when you need to take a breather. From the storms. From the chaos of the wind and waters. And that's perfectly fine. Stop. Unload. Breathe. Eat.

But for goodness sake, keep the boat running. Don't even latch it to the dock. Trust me.

If I may, I'd like to guide you through this part. Because this is where most people get stuck. Or at least I almost did.

This week's breadcrumb is simple: Comfort is the thief of progress, the feeling of fatigue is real. But rest. Don't stop.

Let me explain.

On the journey, the storms get brutal. The waves are like skyscrapers, creating the most uncomfortable ride. Not just the rollercoaster of riding the waves, but the thump of the water smacking the side of the boat. It gets nauseating. Not like the rain that rocks you to sleep when you're warm in bed. This is the cracks and roar of thunder. Only it never stops. And every roar is the loudest one yet.

You lose your thoughts. Your sanity. Sometimes you get a little afraid. But you find your way. You ride long enough that you realize the storms don't slow down. The waves don't get smaller. You get better.

You learn to find peace inside the ride. You learn to read the water. To brace at the right moment. To turn the boat just slightly to slice through instead of getting tossed. And that, that right there, is the whole key to reaching the destination. Over time, you build a love, a connection, and an appreciation for what the storms have made of you.

But you're human. So you'll dock. For fuel. To think. To breathe.

And that you must.

When you stop, you'll find beauty in the town you arrive in. The kind you only dreamed of before the start of your journey. The trees seem perfect. The air feels and smells fresh. There's a calmness and peace to it.

But the truth is, you just can't see the mold. The trash on the side of the road. You'll think the people are better here than back home, but you're too blinded to see that they're just better makeup artists.

Eventually, you'll look back to where you came from and think you've traveled thousands of miles. But this is only to comfort yourself. And that kills you. Looking back at this moment is dangerous, because your view is distorted. And you'll find that measuring how far you've come has little benefit when determining how far you still have to go.

I'll be the first to tell you, family, the town has its flaws that you can't see. So the beauty you see, the peace you feel, and the accomplishing feeling to take a victory lap isn't honest. Don't hate me when I say this: that feeling is comfort disguised as happiness. Disguised as victory. And the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave. Meaning the less likely you finish what you started.

My advice? Go check on your boat. Take her for a spin. Get back to sea.

Cause if you don't? You'll stay away from the sea a short enough time to remember how bad the waves were, and long enough to forget how to ride them.

And that? That's dangerous. Because the hardest part of being at sea isn't the storms themselves. The hardest part is staying in the boat long enough to master the ride in the face of the storms.

Anyone who rides the waves to the end makes it to the destination. Sure, you'll hear stories of those who don't. But it's never because the storms were too much. It's because they docked for rest and never got back to sea. They lost their mojo. Their confidence in doing the hard thing.

Because until you actually arrive, the illusion of greatness will be disguised in a costume of good enough. Long enough to reveal a mediocrity that later you'll find was never enough. All because you stopped too long and allowed the false peace of the town to become more familiar than your relationship with the storms of the sea.

Here's my one thought and question for you.

Comfort kills.

Hear what I'm saying, family. It takes skill, wisdom, and courage to reach your final destination, whatever that may be. And yes, the storms are brutal. But in the evil eye of those storms that threatens to end your journey, lies an angel present with the very gifts you need in order to continue.

And yes, you guessed it. It's in the storm thats the only place you can receive the skills and gifts needed to continue. “Go figure.”

So keep going.

It took a while for me to realize I got bamboozled by myself. And the effort it takes to get the nerve to sail again is almost never worth the stop in the first place.

So my question is this: Where are you seeing yourself get comfortable? How can you make sure you continue growing and moving forward to avoid the trap and the damage it can do? What actions are you taking to avoid comfort altogether?

I love you.

TTYL.

— Earl