I remembering spending a couple of days at a retreat, an opportunity to talk to other nonprofit leaders about our shops. It was a valuable opportunity to reconnect with colleagues and reflect on how we navigate the challenges of leading nonprofit organizations in healthy, sustainable ways.
On the final morning, we gathered to share what we were taking away from our time together. One leader—a young woman who runs a nonprofit—spoke about a dream she has carried for a long time, but has been hesitant to pursue.
That caught me off guard.
The night before, over dinner, we had gone around the table sharing something from our past that wouldn’t appear on a résumé but helped shape who we are. The best I could offer was my brief stint as the “guess your age/weight/birth month” guy at an amusement park.
Her story was different.
She shared that she is a world traveler—not in the casual, tourist sense, but in the truest form. She has spent time in more than twenty countries, many of which most people would never consider visiting: Sudan, Pakistan, and others like them. She even lived in Egypt for a period of time while raising young children.
If there was anyone at that table who had demonstrated courage, resilience, and grit, it was her.
So when she said she was hesitant to pursue her dream, it didn’t just surprise me—it challenged me. How could someone who had navigated some of the most complex and unfamiliar corners of the world feel held back from stepping into what she was clearly capable of doing?
I could feel the response building before I had fully formed the words.
When she finished, I spoke up. This isn’t a perfect recollection, but it’s close to what I said:
Do the damn thing.
That thing inside you—it’s not going away. It will keep calling, whether you answer it or not.
Ignore it, and it won’t quietly fade. It will persist. It will nag. It will demand your attention until you either give it the work it deserves or spend your energy trying to suppress it.
We like to think we possess our dreams. I’m not so sure that’s true. More often, our dreams possess us. We don’t always choose them—they choose us.
And the world does care about your dream.
It cares because you see something others don’t. You’ve identified a gap, a problem, or a possibility that feels personal to you. In doing so, you’ve already taken the hardest step: you’ve accepted some level of responsibility for it.
If everything felt complete and whole, the dream wouldn’t exist. The fact that it does is evidence that something—at least from your vantage point—is not as it should be.
If you’re searching for meaning, start there.
Do the thing.
Because when you finally act on it—when you put it into motion—it may or may not change the world in some sweeping, visible way.
But it will change you.
And in changing you, it inevitably changes the world around you.
Do the damn thing.

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