Grace

On the winds of Life

Looking back across decades of entrepreneurial adventures — and truly, across the whole terrain of my life — I remain intrigued by the quiet, unbidden appearances of grace. Those moments when flow and grace braided themselves together and something serendipitous unfolded: sometimes subtle, sometimes life-changing, sometimes catapulting me into entirely new chapters.

People often described me as someone with strong intention, focus, and a drive toward self-directed action. And yet none of us, myself included, understood the extent to which the winds of grace were moving at my back.

For years I threw myself into the world with bold intention — activating will, courage, and the audacity to move through doors and around obstacles. I could easily have been a walking poster for the many self-help or manifestation programs that fill the airwaves. And in those years, breakthroughs often arrived with a kind of miraculous shimmer.

Somewhere beneath thought, I sensed a presence… as though something otherworldly had my back. I often marveled at sequences of events that could never have been orchestrated and yet unfolded with uncanny precision.

I’ve written about some of these moments before. At the time, I offered my best understanding of how it all worked. But the longer I live, the clearer it becomes: there is always more that we simply cannot know.

Early in adulthood, I wanted to believe that I was the one driving all of it — that I was the source of my own good fortune. Over the years, that belief loosened. Eventually, the idea of a separate “I” no longer resonated. The oneness that is the Universe is not something I relate to from afar; it is the ground of my being. The “I” of experience feels more like an aperture through which the Universe perceives itself.

Words barely touch the visceral knowing of this. Human life is shaped by paradox, and the part of me that wants to draw a tidy line through it all eventually softens into something gentler — a compassionate surrender to mystery.

And yet through it all, there is peace. There is joy. There is a sense of wonder that permeates even the most ordinary days. The phrase “I wonder” now feels less like a question and more like an invocation — a doorway to possibility.

So yes, I still use words like I and you and we. But I no longer experience them as separations. They’re simply the tools language offers.

And perhaps the same is true for you.

If you pause for a moment, you might notice that your own life carries its own choreography of grace — moments when something opened, or aligned, or arrived at just the right time. They may have been subtle, barely a whisper, or unmistakably life-altering. But they were there. They are part of your story too.

And if this existence is anything, it is the great adventure of wondering — of letting the Mystery move through us, as us, again and again.