When I started a new job selling door-to-door, it seemed like heaven. I was ecstatic from the first minute of the first day. Every house I walked up to, my heart sang and I said over and over to myself, "I am SO-O-O-O-O-O glad to be out here and not trapped in that cubical." Then, after a few weeks, something quietly changed.

Standing in the gale-force winds, the kid was looking queasy. The storm was growing more intense, and the rain had already plastered his hair to his forehead.

Tonight the beach is dark. No fireworks will dazzle the crowds tonight. No concession booths will sell snacks, and no families will congregate to enjoy the summertime display. All those plans. All the money invested in food, in merchandise, in giant fireworks that shoot two hundred meters into the air. When a typhoon comes, the merchants here just go to Plan B.

My granddaddy ran one of the biggest plumbing shops in his town, and when he'd spy one of his men dithering over what to do next, he'd simply say, "Son, you can't do everything first." And neither can you or I. If all your options are good, then it doesn't really matter which one you choose first. Throw a dart if you have to, but move. Make a decision. Get yourself into motion.

Ever notice how everybody assumes a bad experience is all bad? That nothing good could ever come from stress or trauma?

As we grow, we do so in fits and starts, lurching forward then back, sometimes looking more like clowns than seekers. Learn to keep the progress you make.