I Wanted to Be a Ninja

The other day I told a friend that when I was a kid, I wanted to be a ninja.

Not for a week.

Not because I watched a movie and thought it looked cool.

I mean I really wanted to be a ninja.

Back in elementary school we had one of those "When I Grow Up" projects. Other kids wanted to be doctors, firefighters, athletes, teachers.

I was a ninja.

Childhood dreams can carry clues that still matter years later.

Looking back, it sounds ridiculous.

But after my divorce, I started thinking about that kid again.

Like a lot of people after a major life change, I found myself asking:

Who am I now?

Everybody talks about moving forward.

Get in shape.

Make more money.

Find another relationship.

Set bigger goals.

Build a better life.

All of that is fine.

But I found myself asking a different question:

What made me happy before life got complicated?

That question led me to buy a GT BMX bike.

Sometimes a simple object can open a door to an older version of yourself.

Now, if you're looking for a practical life strategy, that's probably not it.

A grown man going through a divorce and buying a BMX bike sounds like the beginning of a midlife crisis, not personal growth.

But something happened when I got on that bike.

I felt like myself again.

Not the version of me carrying responsibilities.

Not the version of me trying to fix things.

Not the version of me trying to figure out what comes next.

Just me.

And somewhere in that process I remembered wanting to be a ninja.

When I told a friend about it, she asked:

"How does that make money?"

The honest answer is:

It doesn't.

And that's exactly the point.

Somewhere along the way, most of us start judging everything by what it produces.

Will it make money?

Will it help my career?

Will it be useful?

Will it get me ahead?

Those aren't bad questions.

I've got bills.

I've got responsibilities.

I'm not pretending money doesn't matter.

It does.

But not everything valuable has to turn into income.

Sometimes the value is that it reconnects you with yourself.

Looking back, I don't think I wanted to be a ninja because of the costume.

I think I wanted what a ninja represented.

Discipline.

Skill.

Courage.

Freedom.

Self-mastery.

The ability to stay calm when things got hard.

Those are still pretty good things to chase.

The older I get, the more I think childhood dreams aren't always about the thing itself.

Maybe they're about the qualities underneath it.

A kid who wants to be a firefighter might be drawn to courage.

A kid who wants to be an explorer might be chasing adventure.

A kid who wants to be an artist might be looking for expression.

And a kid who wants to be a ninja might be chasing discipline, mastery, and freedom.

Maybe the dream wasn't the point.

Maybe the values were.

Life has a way of burying those things.

You get older.

You go to work.

You pay bills.

You become responsible.

You get hurt.

You adapt.

You start doing what needs to be done.

Before long, you can forget who you were before all of that.

That's why I think there's value in asking yourself a simple question:

What did I love before life got complicated?

Not because you're trying to go backward.

Because you're trying to remember what mattered before everybody told you what should matter.

For me, that answer led to a BMX bike.

For somebody else, it might be music.

Drawing.

Fishing.

Martial arts.

Building things.

Whatever it is, don't immediately ask if it can be monetized.

Don't ask if it's practical.

Don't ask if it looks impressive.

Ask if it makes you feel alive.

My friend wanted to know how wanting to be a ninja makes money.

I think that's the wrong question.

The better question is:

What kind of person was I trying to become?

Because I wasn't trying to figure out how being a ninja makes money.

I was trying to remember what kind of man I wanted to be before the world started telling me who I was supposed to be.

And maybe that's something a lot of us need to remember.

The right question can point you back toward something you forgot you needed.

Sometimes the path forward isn't about creating a brand-new version of yourself.

Sometimes the next version of you is not built from scratch .Sometimes the path forward begins by reconnecting with something you left behind.

Sometimes the kid who wanted to be a ninja still has something worth teaching the adult.

🥷🚲

“I wasn’t trying to figure out how being a ninja makes money. I was trying to remember what kind of person I wanted to become before the world started telling me what I was supposed to be.”