Used to be, I’d capture some idea and immediately (literally) scan the entirety of my phone book looking for someone to share it with. I’d sell them the idea like it was the best idea I’d ever had, that this was the most important phone call I’d ever make, that they’d ever received. And I’d present the idea proudly, like Jesse parading his sons in front of Saul, hoping one would be picked to be king.

Sometimes, they’d get adopted. A friend would share my vision and we’d share approximately 3.8 caffeinated conversations and 114 textual transmissions before he or I realized that the idea was too big or too small or too self-indulgent or too… already being funded by one or several venture capitalists. Sometimes, they were truly great ideas, but our timing or leadership or vision didn’t sync and we’d call it a cat’s-game. Or sometimes, we just needed to get out of the coffeeshop.

So, we’d concede the conspiracy and go back to being “friends” instead of billionaire internet pioneers or world-saving ministry partners. The idea remained dormant.

But now, I’ve got an idea within an idea (You were just incepted.)

What if we gave ideas away?

To be sure, there’s a lot of money in not giving ideas away. Good ideas can be pretty valuable pieces of intellectual real estate. I would never admit to the amount of time I spend (hours) day-dreaming about what I’d do if I sold some idea and what I’d do while living off of the fat of the acquisition. (I would buy barrels of great wine for all of my friends, I’d have them delivered to their house – it would be the best, most cumbersome gift ever.)

But, it’s also a lot of fun to watch an idea change shape and change ownership. So, for the first of hopefully many given-away ideas, I’d like to give:

Paragraphobia.com

Right now, it’s a clever name but little else. There is no business plan and there is no defined market. I don’t really know what it could be or what it should be – a suggestion would be something to do with writing and/or writing related fear. I figure I’ll leave that part up to you, though I do have a few conditions.

1) It can’t be slanderous.

2) It has to be about the larger Story. That is, it cannot be the name of your next personal blog.

3) If you ever make some money with it, we’ll have to discuss the split (I have wine barrels to order.)

Feel free to pass this along. If someone or group of someones wants a cool name and a push into a story bigger than their own, have them contact me. If “paragraphs” aren’t your thing, I’ve got a few more ideas I can’t wait to give away.

I’m not indecisive, but I don’t decide a lot of things. There’s a difference – some kind of subtle one, but it’s there. For the most part, I treat decisions seriously. Of course, discipline is involved and can complicate things, but to me, decisions are bonds you make between who you are and who you want to be.

Grown-ups make decisions.

They’re out showering or watering the lawn or something – and they seal up a raw idea and make a decision. Sometimes they’re small, “Ice cream after dinner” and sometimes they’re not, “We’ll try for another kid.” but they’re decisions and they’re made and they produce something – either results or disappointment.

But the world’s deck is stacked against decisions – against the impetus of action. The truth is, I decided to write something – anything – a few hours ago. I was driving or something and was overcome with a kind of feverish discontent. I haven’t written seriously in weeks. I’ve failed at my most recent monthly challenge – yes, I haven’t mentioned it but I stopped reading the Bible consistently a while ago. I want to say it was because I was too busy mentoring at-risk youths or planting a garden, but the truth is that I got bored somewhere in Numbers and couldn’t stay awake to read another list for maintaining holy cleanliness.

So in the midst of my dark half-hour of the soul (What am I doing? Where am I going? Should I get married? I miss writing. I miss God). I made the decision to write. “A blog” I said – “or maybe some poetry” Yes – I would write something soaring or soothing.  I’d play the tunes of my needy soul for a while and see where I ended up. And then, I watched T.V. and I checked Twitter probably 20 times and walked around the house for awhile. I went to the grocery store because I needed chicken and peanut butter (2/4 of my culinary catalog) and bought them. That was a few hours ago.

There’s a million reasons to not do what you should be doing and discipline has such a villainous ring to it.  Twitter and T.V. and E-Mail want us to believe that they’ve got the answers, if only we buy more – if only we participate in something more. If only we add something to our lives. But I’m starting to understand that more is exactly what we don’t need.

Advertisers make billions by telling us that the next step is the last step – or at least the best step, and that our lives now are not what they could be, and I believe that’s true. But it’s not because we’re living without their product, it’s because we’re living too many days without our hearts. Our hearts don’t race anymore. We’ve settled for an impotent life in the name of “growing up” – and it feels like we never had the chance to decide anything different. But we did – because every day is a decision, every day that I wake up and wash the sleep from my face is another day to know life, to feel the gravity of my hours. Every step forward is a decision not to turn back.

So you might read this, or you might not, but every word – like every second we spend alive is another decision to keep going, choosing either results or disappointment.  So here’s to decisions and here’s to living deeper.  Here’s to deciding who you want to be.

If you need any more encouragement – play this song as loudly as it needs to be.