The True Source

It was 2007 and I’d just quit waiting tables after almost twenty years, and I’d flown down to Los Angeles to see my brother, John, who was traveling there for work and my old friend Chris whom I’d grown up with in Providence and with whom I’d roomed in Glendale when I thought I wanted to be screenwriter. I’d not been back to L.A. since fleeing in 1990 to live with my now wife in Seattle, and when I stepped out of the Burbank airport terminal, feeling that bright, hot Southern California sun on my neck, and seeing the palm trees and all the tanned, monied Angelinos, I sensed an uneasy prickling in my heart.

It was good to see John, who greeted my happily and told me about his editing work at Viacom as he led me to his rented Cadillac. He and I had been creative partners for a time, and the combination of some memories of our old furtive efforts and the Pasadena traffic made the uneasiness worse. What is this? I wondered staring out the window as we crept along the 10. It was as familiar as it was uncomfortable. I sensed it was partly why I left this place. What is that emptiness I’m feeling?

Oh, right, I thought. Greed.

I always felt poor in L.A., and so too for most of my years in Seattle working for tips. You never have enough and everyone else has more than you; everyone is your competition for the shrinking pie of opportunity. I hated how small and desperate greed left me feeling. It made me want to hop back on a plane and return to Seattle and my neighborhood’s quiet, unambitious streets. That was not an option. What’s the opposite of greed? I thought. Not wealth. No. Generosity.

I was always the poorest one in the group with my friends. Someone else always paid. Not this trip. I’d pick up the check whenever I could. I’d never done that before, and the second time I said, “I’ll get this round,” I could feel that smallness in my heart opening. Los Angeles was still Los Angeles, and I didn’t have any more money than when I landed – in fact, technically I had less – but it felt like I had more. It was a great trip. I hadn’t been that relaxed in years, and I wondered, as I winged my way home, if generosity was the true source of wealth, not its kindly end result.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com