My very next thought was, oh crap. What have I done? I’m so tired of hearing about potential, of worrying whether I’m living up to my potential, wondering if the performance of my life is running apace of my potential. The truth is, I never feel that it is: the bar of my potential is always higher than the bar of my performance, because potential exists in imagination, and performance is always in the real world, with its limits—and my limits.
But I had agreed to write not one but two pieces on the subject, so I had to get over my discomfort and frustration and figure out what on earth I was going to say.
Turns out I didn’t have to look any further than the word potential itself.