August 2026: Learning When to Stop Chasing the Whale
Updated: 2 days ago
How do I know when persistence is still serving me, and when I am forcing something that needs to be released?
August was the month when the machinery around my story nearly became the story itself.
Near the end of the month, I woke up ready to return to battle with my website. The previous day had been spent fighting through what was supposed to be a simple improvement. The site broke, was restored, broke again, and was restored again.
By morning, I could already feel myself preparing to chase the problem for another day.
The Captain Ahab Moment
Captain Ahab came to mind. He chased one whale until the pursuit consumed everything else.
Standing there that morning, I recognized a smaller and admittedly more ridiculous version of the same thing happening to me.
My whale was a website.
I could have opened the computer and gone after it again. I went for a walk instead.
The Whale Was Never the Point
Much of August was spent building the machinery around a story. Proof copies arrived. The website, email system, social accounts, photographs, videos, outreach records, and publishing plans slowly became one connected platform.
Some of that work was necessary. Some of it became a trap.
An email arrived from someone who understood the book beneath the adventures. She saw the fear, forgiveness, relationships, acceptance, control, and unresolved pieces.
Her message reminded me why the machinery existed. It was supposed to help the story reach people. It was never supposed to replace the story or the life that produced it.
Persistence becomes forcing when the useful work has ended, yet I keep pushing because stopping feels like failure. August made that distinction impossible to ignore.
Waiting Was Not Failure
Earlier in the month, Neda and I stood on Lookout Mountain waiting for the weather to allow us to fly.
Weather stopped us the first day. We waited, returned the following day, and found better conditions.
Neda flew first. Alejandro, our guide, then helped me prepare. He is an experienced pilot who flies with a prosthetic leg, a visible reminder that limitation and possibility are not always opposites.
My flight began with only a few running steps. The wing caught us, the ground disappeared, and suddenly we were flying.
That experience offered a different kind of persistence. We did not force the first day to become something it could not be. We read the conditions, waited, and moved when the moment was right.
The Book Became Real
The arrival of the proof copy changed the month. A manuscript I had carried for years became a physical book in my hands. The past I had documented finally caught up with the life I was living.
50 Things at 50 would enter the world on September 8. Completing the book did not end the work. It changed the work from creating the book to helping its story reach the people who might recognize something of themselves in it.
The book asks many of the same questions I was facing in August. What can I control? What must I release? When should I keep trying? When has persistence become another way of refusing to accept reality?
September was asking me to stop rebuilding the entrance and start walking through it.
The Small Moments That Stayed
During a three-mile jog along Chattanooga’s Riverwalk, Neda and I came upon Moonrise, an aluminum sculpture punctured with openings to the sky.
The sculpture was an unexpected discovery along a familiar path. It made an ordinary run memorable.
My fifty-sixth birthday was made of simple things: riding Onewheels with Neda, sharing dinner, sitting on the porch, having a couple of drinks, and spreading seeds over a Bob Ross Chia Pet.
There was no grand accomplishment to mark. The day felt complete because I was there, sharing it with her.
What I Carried Forward
The life underneath the projects was there the entire time.
My marriage, massage work, health, ordinary routines, and moments of wonder were not interruptions to “Becoming.” They were the evidence. I simply needed to look up long enough to see them.
As August ended, I carried one intentional question into September:
Can I become a better influence in the lives around me, even when I cannot repair, control, or fully explain the relationships behind me?
Some difficult things deserve patience, discipline, and another attempt. Something in your life, however, may have stopped serving its original purpose while you were busy trying to make it work.
You do not have to solve it today.
Start by noticing whether you are still pursuing something meaningful or merely chasing the whale.
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