I named my company More Belief so that I could believe in something more than what I am able to perceive in any given moment. So that I am able to believe there is more than I will see in my lifetime. So that I acknowledge the work before me and the work that will come after. It is a frame around my own life, and an admission that I will never fully see what is in that frame.
I spent the day at a major networking event and as the final reception approached, I had to cling to a hope that everyone had felt as desperately lonely as I did, and that everyone else was also trying to prove—some more credentialed than others—that we were part of something truly important and solid.
I left thinking maybe it is my work to notice this. That I enter a realm, reflect it—adjust it on the unconscious level with humor, mindfulness, or candor—and then leave. This experience, repeated time and again is fickle, ungrounded, sloppy. But it is the genuine, messy stuff of intuition. I am a dabbler out of fashion. The jester, fool, witch, or trickster of another time. The unapprenticed shaman.
The graphic on my business card. My logo. The words, MORE BELIEF hover above a thin red line. This is the line I will not cross, it is the thread that connects everything to something else, it is the horizon I cannot see over, it is the ground I may never settle down enough to land on, it is the space of the unknown. As I left it today on a cocktail table for someone to come across, I saw how it expresses everything I need it to say: "There is an invisible world, and we're living in it." (thanks again, Bill Viola).