There’s something ‘bout the cold I love. A breath of fresh air, cozy amongst sweet winds gusting through the coffee shop window.

Warm coffee. New routine. People. Feelings. How beautiful—like the seasons, to feel the shift in me.

My life comprises dark silver mornings; swathes of rain followed by sunny afternoons; soccer under golden lights; sunsets reverberating off glass castles. Beautiful challenges. Growth. Soul expansion.

Fall’s here—the start of a new life, the mark of eight months in NYC. These are the raw feelings swirling through my body and soul from my first couple of weeks as a personal trainer.

With my new role as a trainer at Life Time, everything is new to me. I’m questioning myself, like, can I really do this? Am I good enough? There are moments when I feel imposter syndrome—the typical emotions of not feeling qualified after leveling up.

Yet these feelings mean that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, staring up the face of another mountain after wanting so badly to have climbed the last one.

I got the job. A month ago, three, six, I would have killed to be where I am now. And now that I’m here, it’s so damn exciting, but also scary!

I’m dancing with a fluttering heart, a desire to improve, and worthless fear, feelings which mean my spirit is pushing against its walls, asking for space.

For so long I wanted the following quote by one of my godfathers of inspiration, the writer Robert Greene, to pertain to me. Now, it finally does. He says in his book, Mastery:

Practical knowledge. Challenges. Progress. I know from the bottom of my heart that I’m just here to learn, but that doesn’t mean the fear isn’t there.

I’m afraid of failure. Afraid of disappointing others. Afraid of letting people down—letting myself down. I’m human, and I care what others think of me. But what am I really afraid of? Is it really failure? Is it embarrassment? Is it letting down the people who believe in me?

All these worries, expectations, they’re exhausting, man. This can just be play. Play versus expectations. Trust versus control.

I think I’m just used to being hard on myself. The highs and lows are familiar, but I don’t want to live that way.

I want equanimity. Peace. That comes from trust. Because then, no experience is wasted or wrong. It’s all . . . Divine. Just like the flowers soaking in the rain in the middle of the stone square, outside the church.

It’s raining pretty good. I think I just saw lightning. Or maybe it’s just the car lights on the road, because I don’t hear thunder. So maybe there’s nothing to truly be afraid of.

What is this fear?

What is this joy that I feel, too, roaring through me? Joy trusts; fear is fueled by the burden of expectations.

In these first few weeks, I’ve felt myself growing in every interaction, every experience; I’m moving forward with every day. Still, part of me just wants to control things, make sure everything’s perfect.

Trust, or control.

There is nothing to control. There is nothing to prove. I’m not here to be the best or even change anybody’s life. I’m just here to dance with existence. I’m here to witness the universe unfold in whatever way it’s meant to.

The people I’m working with already feel like a family. Each one of ‘em has got that New York swag, an eclectic crew of legends, from the people at the front desk to the trainers to the homies in maintenance operations to the members to management.

It’s so damn cool. A job where I can fully be myself, and in fact, it’s celebrated to be myself, especially as we transition into my favorite season, fall.

Man, I love the style this time of year. Jackets. Beanies. Coziness. Color to match the change in weather. I love this city so goddamn much. These eight months have been such an adventure. Why let anxiety crack through my joy? Why let worry dampen the wonder in my heart?

Of course I want to get to the place where I have a full book of clients, where I know exactly what I’m doing, where I’m set, and I fit in with the other busy trainers; I don’t have to worry.

Part of me fears losing this sick job now that I’ve got it.

And what’s that? A need for control as I face the unknown. I don’t know how things are gonna go, and instead of just living in the now, playing, instead of expecting, I’m weighed down by this worry. I’ve been in this position before and things have always worked out! Haven’t they?

I’m pretty much just trying to meet members right now, give free sessions, and get better at facing rejection. Every single goddamn thing is nothing but a growth opportunity, handling rejection perhaps most of all.

But you have to ask to get rejected. Just stay in the ring. The scariest dudes I approached in my first weeks turned out to be the nicest guys. They were both trainers in the past and told me to never stop what I’m doing now—meeting people. Staying curious. Hungry.

If I’m an artist, I’ll make this my art, too. It’s not supposed to be easy. Anything worth doing is going to be challenging. The cool stuff. The meaningful stuff. The soul-forging stuff.

But I’m here for it, not racing up the mountain, but stopping to observe, look around, and let myself just be here, because once I reach that ridge—once I’m a veteran in a year, five—I’m gonna be like damn, I miss it down there. The feelings in the valley—when this was all I wanted and I got it; when I was afraid but I danced anyway; when life was just beginning, and of course it still is, always and forever, day after day.

Life has just begun. It’s all just patches of me, stitched together like the quilt of clouds that make up the autumn sky.

Smoke in the sunlight. A lot on my mind.

It’s all too much to handle. This joy. This life. So let go. Don’t handle it. Live it. The joy I feel on a Saturday afternoon, chilling in Union Square after a day of work. The sun is bright and feels so good. There’s so many places in this infinitely interesting city to just stop and watch gravity rustle the leaves; let gravity lift from all our shoulders so we can live unburdened from what we can’t control—everything. Why aren’t we just dancing?

With uncertainty? With one another? With the color of your soul, which comes through in your style, in your smile, I’d rather walk home day after day just to feel another mile beneath my feet; this energy coursing through me—it’s love.

When people ask where I worked before this, at first I was afraid to say that this is the first club I’ve worked at. I thought it made me seem underqualified. But when I told my buddy, he said Dude, it’s epic that this is the first club you’ve worked at! It means you have something special.

A change of perspective. Shift in perception. Can’t we do that with everything? Change the lens through which we’re viewing life? The situations, experiences, and challenges?

Relax. The test isn’t the test. The real test is: Can I keep my peace in all of this? Can I see every single day as a growth opportunity, a play opportunity? Can I determine my success by genuine smiles, or conversations, or laughs, rather than closes?

Life is a dream. A movie. A sea of stars. Live it, son. You can’t not be who you are. No need to think. Just act on instinct.

And so. I don’t know how things are gonna go. But we’re here. We’re right where we’re supposed to be. We’re striving, we’re living. It’s messy, it’s incomprehensible, it’s all love. I’m looking up another mountain, and what a view it is from here—absolutely gorgeous in the early days of October.