Yesterday, on the afternoon dog walk, I passed a rectangular patch of fresh dirt. It jolted me back to the cemetery where, four months ago, I watched my friend’s ashes lowered into a rectangle that looked exactly like that one. That unassuming patch of dirt sucker-punched me all over again.

On the same walk, I was finishing Matthew McConaughey’s book Greenlights. If you haven’t read it, I recommend listening. His down-to-earth Texas drawl is soothing and familiar like hearing an old friend. On the other hand, the print version feels intimate, too, sprinkled with his photos, journal entries, and scribbled notes. So get both.

The book is about his life, the risks he has taken, and the intentionality of how he chooses to live. How intentional? How risky? Beyond where most of us would dare venture.

He woke up from dreams, got on planes, and chased their meanings to the Amazon and rural Africa. He walked away from the pursuit of a safe career in law after someone planted the seed that maybe he should go to film school instead. Even after he became a movie star, he lived out of a trailer, choosing to stay close to ordinary people and have experiences with humanity, not ones that can be bought. He lived for a time with indigenous people who accepted him and protected him. He wrote in journals from a young age, honed his craft, and never abandoned his connection to spirituality despite the secular pulls of success and fame.

When his career no longer felt meaningful, he intentionally pivoted. He risked his place in Hollywood by turning down the type of roles that had made him rich and famous. For two years, it was quiet, but he committed to the pivot and waited for more fulfilling work to come. He held the line, and eventually it did.

“Persist, pivot, or concede. It’s up to us, our choice every time.”

He challenges us, too, to rise up and live with intention and authenticity, to show the same integrity he has:

“What is success to me? Continue to ask yourself that question. How are you prosperous? What is your relevance? Your answer may change over time and that’s fine, but do yourself this favor: Whatever your answer is, don’t choose anything that will jeopardize your soul. Prioritize who you are, who you want to be, and don’t spend time with anything that antagonizes your character. Don’t depend on drinking the Kool-Aid. It’s popular, tastes sweet today, but it will give you cavities tomorrow.”

We will one day be held in that same unassuming rectangle of dirt, what McConaughey refers to as the inevitable. For some of us, it comes quicker than expected. It comes before we’ve done the things we were planning to do. It comes while we’re coasting, waiting, assuming we have all the time in the world. It comes when we’re not being courageous.

“Life is not a popularity contest. Be brave, take the hill. But first, answer the question: What is my hill?”

What is your hill?

Lately, I’ve also been spending time with dirt in another way. With dirt, seeds, water, and sunshine, my lawn has gone from bare patches to a vibrant green carpet. Tender shoots pushed through the soil determined to live.

Both metaphors of dirt were unexpected, but they point to the same thing: life. We are born, and then we die. From that perspective, it’s illogical to live without bravery, intentionality, and momentum.

“Sometimes which choice you make is not as important as making a choice and committing to it.”

While in rural Africa, McConaughey found one of his musical heroes: Ali Farka Touré. McConaughey asked him why he didn’t tour beyond West Africa and France. Touré answered matter-of-factly:

“Because there I would be dried shit, neither me nor my scent would stick with you. Here, I am wet shit, both me and my scent stick with you.”

Be wet shit. The dirt is inevitable, but the scent is your choice. What do you have to lose?