A Taste of Potential

This morning, I was fiddling with my motorcycle—adjusting, tweaking, trying to make it better—and I wondered why I couldn't leave things alone.

Bikes, cars, homes, businesses, relationships — this insatiable hunger in me to refine, enhance, elevate. An unshakeable sense that more is possible. That it could all be better.

Now I understand the importance of gratitude, but that needn't equate to mundanity. It's a taste for potential.

And if you're like me, you know it's not just a personality quirk. It's often the consequence of missed opportunities for connection. 

Often mislabelled as an obsessive-compulsive disorder, in reality, we're hyper-attuned. We know how much is possible and feel pain when it isn't realised. We try to make things right, repair the past by perfecting the present, or be so grateful we promise to make the most of what we're given.

This quality can, however, make people uncomfortable. It can trigger shame or defensiveness in others. It can isolate us, especially when we don't yet know how to express what we see in a way others can understand.

And that's why I do what I do.

Working with people to uncover the parts of them that feel misunderstood. To help them develop the capacity to hold their potential — not as a burden, but as a source of joy and alignment. To help them recover their voice and find their path, free from old blocks and inherited beliefs.

It's not about becoming someone else. It's about understanding who we're not — so we can finally become who we are.

Give it three months. Show up. I've seen what's possible when people stop outsourcing their validation and start investing in themselves.

Shopping, partying, perfecting — all distractions from a quieter question: Do I actually know and accept myself?

I asked myself that. I took the leap. Therapy became the highest-yielding investment I've ever made.

Because here's the truth: no amount of cosmetic surgery, punishing gym sessions, or weekend table bookings will help us love ourselves if we don't already.

So I'll leave you with this: where are you choosing to hold onto your suffering, and where might you be ready to let it go?

If this resonates, share it with someone who's considering upgrading, always reaching—and maybe just needs to be reminded that they're not alone. The truth is, none of us are. 

Murray