I’ve Got An Invitation For You
On April 24, 2025 I received this text message from my dear friend, John Stephenson:
I’ve got an invitation for you. A few weeks before Miyamoto Musashi, likely the greatest swordsman of all time (62-0 in duels), died he wrote the Dokkōdō. It’s 21 points, each a sentence long about what really mattered in his life.
I decided to write my own and am writing one a day for 21 days. Just because.
Would you like to join?
The following day I responded:
I love this idea! And it scares the shit out of me! So, it’s a perfect endeavor. I’m in.
For the next 21 days—and some change—I engaged in some deep reflection.
What really matters?
What do I truly believe?
What are my values?
What are my guiding sources?
Yesterday I was on a call with a phenomenal coach—Becky Barsellotti—and Creator & CEO of Alive: a program that helps individuals get clear on who they are at their best, what they most want to do with their life (in all areas, not just their career), and create a roadmap to intentionally live into this.
She challenged me:
Reed, your newsletters are great—but they aren’t all of you. Lean in.
And that is what a phenomenal coach can do: get you to take the steps you wouldn’t take on your own.
My Dokkōdō
What I Know Now That I Wish I Knew Then
Believe — even if there’s nothing.
It’s better than the alternative — not believing and there being something. This applies on the micro level (self) and macro level (God/Higher Power/The Universe).
Pick one: God. A Higher Power. The Universe.
Choose one to believe in, and watch the magic happen. Yes, this may require you to get uncomfortable in the beginning.
Start from your values.
This requires you to actually know what they are. Once you do, they are your ultimate compass. And, remember, honoring your values is a courageous act.
Trust yourself first.
Down to the nitty gritty. When you can trust your actions, it ripples out to build effective relationships with others.
One body. One mind. One soul.
That’s all you get. Treat them kindly.
Take care of it and it will take care of you.
It’s like a universal law of reciprocity — you get returned in “kindness” from all living and non-living things.
Be intentionally consistent.
Choose your habits or your habits will choose you.
Just start.
Getting over inertia is the hardest part. Once you start, don’t quit — momentum is the best mind-altering drug.
Lean into your fears.
Growth lives in discomfort.
Thoughts and emotions are just things.
Once you realize this, your emotional intelligence skyrockets.
Life is a choice.
Of critical importance, your perspective. And, yes, you can choose a different perspective.
Choose your goal.
Or someone else will choose it for you. And, remember, process goals are the only ones you can truly control.
Play the long game.
Nothing that last comes quick. The best way to do this is to immerse yourself in the process.
Choose skill acquisition.
The reward is twofold: 1) a constant connection to childlike learning (the process) and 2) the ability to connect disparate skills will set you apart.
Be a curious child.
It’s the most human thing you can do. If there is anything innate to us, it’s our ability to learn.
The failure to commit is the high cost of low living.
Theory is nothing without action.
Connect.
Everyone has something to teach you. And you never know when a previous connection may serve your future self.
In saying “yes” to one thing, it’s important to remember that you’re saying “no” to another thing.
Your time is finite — in a day, a week, a month, a year, and, most importantly, over the course of your life.
There is no normal.
And the more you try to find it, the further you get from yourself. Fuck the status quo — it’s boring anyways.
Meditate on your death.
Yes, you’re going to die. Everything is temporary, and all you have is right now.
Everything has worked out to this point
This will, too.
I’ve Got an Invitation for You
A few weeks before Miyamoto Musashi, likely the greatest swordsman of all time (62-0 in duels), died he wrote the Dokkōdō. It’s 21 points, each a sentence long about what really mattered in his life.
I wrote my own.
It was transformative.
I invite—no, challenge—you to write your own.
When you’re done, send it to me and let’s talk about the process.
Onward.