It was a Monday night.
I’d been having an eventful day when I remembered that I might have a meeting that night.
A few days earlier, I had booked someone for a podcast recording. We had settled on a Tuesday. Until I realized, in that moment, that their Tuesday blurred between my Monday and their Wednesday—we were in completely different timezones.
I messaged them in a panic. Did you mean today, my Monday, or tomorrow, my Wednesday? Apparently, they had meant their own Tuesday, which was the following day for me. But they were willing to do it the same night, if I preferred.
We had two missed appointments at that point. We’d agree on a time, and then she would not show up. Exigencies, and such. I understood, I really did. At both times, I had been available and ready, but somewhat relieved as I was not optimally prepared. Still, it was becoming frustrating. That’s why I remembered the meeting with urgency—I did not want another miss, and certainly not one that was my fault.
I was not ready for a meeting in just a few minutes notice. But I knew if I left it to the agreed time, tomorrow, she might miss it again. Since she was available now, why not do it now? It was a tough call, since, as usual, as I was not fully prepared. But I threw myself into it. “Let’s do it.”
I started setting up. Podcasting comes with a lot of logistics. There was a lot of troubleshooting. Internet connectivity, software configuration, mic placement and so on. We’d spent about 15 minutes chatting and we still weren’t fully eased into the setup yet. A lot of it was her own internet not being as reliable as we wanted it to be, but I was also managing lighting and camera angles at the same time.
The room was getting hot. It was dark. I was using an LED light to brighten my face. I was trying to keep the mood light and jovial so we would have a good recording. A smile there, a joke there. But I was getting uncomfortable. She was getting agitated too.
I took a large step back from everything that was happening. Here we were, two busy adults, trying to make something happen. Trying to create value. To fulfill ourselves. A podcast was a great idea for us both. It had been my initiative. This was my platform. And in the moment, it was rough and tough. It was not pretty. It was hard.
I made a joke about it, and took a behind-the-scenes photo. I said “Even fulfilling our dreams takes hard work!” This would make a good TikTok post, I thought. She heard me and grunted. She was not listening. She was deep in reviewing her internet settings. A moment later she snapped. “Can we get this started already?”
We started… It was a decent conversation. Not a magical one, as I hoped. The impromptu start, the psychological burden of two missed meetings before it, the technical challenges… They wore on both of us. But we managed to make it work somehow, and at the end, she promised to make herself available for a re-do if what we had recorded was not satisfactory. I thanked her but I thought “No thanks.” It was one of those moments where I felt—is this podcasting thing a good idea?
A beautiful vision. In the moment, through lots of effort, was an ugly reality. My first few podcast episodes were like that. Tough. I’m much more experienced, and while setup is easier, the toughness has just morphed into other realms. Editing. Distribution. Booking. All of them, requiring hard work. Is this what it takes make dreams a reality?
* * *
I recorded a TikTok video about this some days later. How tough it was to get a video podcast off the ground. I shared my contemplation to switch to audio only. It resonated with people. One lady said “I know, right!”. Another lady said, “Or you could just sleep.” That hit me.
I could just… sleep? Just not do anything about all this. A new thought. I had never really lived that way. I had a lot of dreams and I was always working towards them, no matter how small the steps were per time. Hearing someone vocalize an intentional indulgence was… new. Is this how people live? Well… I certainly could feel the temptation. But giving up was not actually an option.
Having dreams is an invitation to a life of hard work. I see that clearly now. I have been working with a web designer lately. He has complimented my work ethic many times. That was interesting and lovely to hear. I have never been lazy—I move a lot. At home, growing up, I was the favourite because of my extraordinary penchant for chores. But I just needed places to be clean. I was not doing chores because I was mindful about working hard.
I had not considered myself to be particularly hard working. I have a lot of talent and energy naturally, so in doing work, I was just being myself, and very happy to do it. I enjoy things that people consider work. It’s fun to me. The compliment blessed me, and gave me new perspective. So this is what hard work is?
No doubt, there are areas of my life where I was aware that I had not been diligent. But more so in the thoughtfulness and follow through than sheer amount of effort thrown in. Yet, that is what hard work is most of the time. The steady thinking, and just enough consistent effort. I wish I had been more hard working in some areas in the past.
As a multi-hyphenate, I certainly know what it’s like to feel torn in multiple directions by my own desires. To feel exhausted. Yet, when I look back on the years, I will absolutely testify—I was not giving my best even to my own passions. I may have performed very well at times and in certain areas, but it was mostly passion and talent. To lead a balanced and truly productive life, hard work and diligence must be the mainstay. A person who is working hard will know.
I had my tenth podcast episode today. The night before, I was scheduling video clips from previous podcast edits into a software tool for distribution across social media channels. Around 2:00am, I was done. I went to brush my teeth. Then I remembered a song idea I had written lyrics to earlier that evening. I needed to record before I went to bed, otherwise I may not remember it the next day. So I opened my laptop again for a quick sketch. I discovered technical issues with the mic, that required troubleshooting. Eventually, I got it working and had a great time recording—my sketch became too sweet. I went to bed around 3:45am. This late night had been a pattern lately. Up doing necessary work.
My podcast was at 9am. I woke up a few times, first by 6:50, and on and on. This was a rescheduled podcast with an eager guest, and I was very determined to give them my best. When I finally got up to start getting ready by 8:10am, I felt like I had been hit by a train. Tired. Not refreshed. I forced a smile to get my energy up. I walked out into the living room like a zombie. My wife asked “Are you okay?” Yes, I said. I was thinking, the whole time… What have I gotten myself into? Podcasting is not easy… The work…
We had a great podcast that went on for four hours. She wouldn’t have known that I felt so physically drained before we started. I enjoy this, and I’m good at it. But it comes at a real cost.
I now look at great people differently. I respect them more. I envy them less. I look at myself and continue count the cost of success. But what is the alternative, I wonder? Dreams that turn into haunting ghosts?
I won’t just sleep. That’s no life. I think this is what fulfillment in life means—to deliver on our potential. To transform our realities through intention and exertion.
I witnessed the amount of labour a friend of mine put into promoting his album. He had produced it himself, and was on the streets of social media daily, promoting it like a champion. It was inspiring to see. Then just a few weeks after the album release, he was back working on another album. I asked, genuinely perturbed “Aren’t you going to rest?” He responded, “I’ll rest when I’m in the grave.
A morbid response. But there’s something there that I like.