My old notebooks have a way of interrupting my assumptions.

This week, I opened several while preparing for a healthcare technology leadership interview. Between meeting notes and project plans, I found reminders of problems I had helped untangle, decisions I had coordinated, and responsibilities I had almost forgotten.

There were also questions I’m still asking.

Who owns this? What needs to change? What are we actually trying to accomplish?

Apparently, those questions apply just as well outside a project meeting.

In “Love Yourz,” J. Cole reflects on the possibility of traveling a considerable distance and realizing the direction was wrong.

That thought stays with me.

Persistence matters. So does periodically checking where all that persistence is taking you.

I can fill a calendar. I can work through a task list. I can stay busy enough to postpone the harder question of whether my effort still serves the life I want to build.

Continuous improvement requires an honest look at that.

Sometimes the next step is another attempt. Sometimes it is a better approach, a clearer priority, or the willingness to stop doing something that has outlived its purpose.

Staying the course takes judgment. Changing direction does, too.

The interview gave me an opportunity to connect years of healthcare technology work with a mission I care about: helping organizations make quality care more accessible.

Preparing for it reminded me how much experience accumulates through ordinary acts of follow-through.

Clarifying a confusing process. Bringing the right people into a conversation. Making sure the numbers reflect the work. Helping a team understand what comes next.

Over time, those actions develop into judgment.

I’m learning to recognize that growth while continuing to improve how I communicate it. Experience deserves a clear explanation. People cannot see everything you have carried unless you give them a way to understand it.

That is part of my work now.

In a journal entry from last year, I reminded myself to breathe, release what I couldn’t control, and continue.

On those same pages was a palm reading that described a builder, someone drawn to leadership, creativity, and legacy.

I took it as an invitation to reflect. The description resonated with what I value and what I keep choosing to do.

The evidence of those choices is in the work: the systems, the stories, the relationships, and the things I am willing to begin again.

I have plans for all of them.

I also believe God’s plan can reach beyond what I can currently see. My responsibility is to prepare, act with intention, and remain open enough to recognize an opportunity that arrives differently than expected.

Later this month, I’ll bring Lucid Futurism, my Afrofuturist science-fiction and fantasy universe, to LA Comic Con, October 30 through November 1. I’ll be unveiling a new LUCID graphic series.

One week I’m reviewing healthcare governance notes. Soon I’ll be talking about dreams, other realities, and characters who refuse to stay quietly inside a manuscript.

My notebooks contain multitudes.

Both pursuits give me a chance to build something meaningful and connect with people. I’m making room for that possibility without requiring every part of the journey to resolve at once.

This week, take ten minutes to check your own compass. Look at what you’re pursuing, what you’ve learned, and one adjustment that would bring your effort closer to your purpose.

Then give that adjustment a place on your calendar.

And if you’d like to see where my imagination is taking me next, visit LucidFuturism.com. Come meet me at LA Comic Con if you’re there.

I’ll have a new story to share.