Ashes Than Dust

This one's for you, hon.

The blaze orange jacket and insulated boots are still by the back door, almost a week after deer opener. Sure, they’re clutter—but also a touching tribute to my husband’s newfound post-hunting enlightenment.

Every November, my husband joins the Minnesota deer hunting ritual—a tradition that looks a little different for every camp but is usually bound by camaraderie, whiskey, and the back-to-basics rhythm of predawn hours in a rickety stand in the woods.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Great!” he said. “I’ve been doing some thinking. You know how it is in the deer stand—nothing to do but sip coffee, watch the woods, and think of life lessons.”

He went on, hands animated, explaining that we need to start doing more exciting things with our lives—to spend our time in ways that get us closer to who we want to be. You know, less thinking, more living—being intentional about how you show up in the world.

“Have you heard of my Substack?” I asked wryly.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Maybe you could use my idea for this week’s post.”

He’s right, of course. It’s easy to stay on life’s treadmill—reacting instead of responding, letting inertia pull you through time and space. It can feel like swimming through mud, breaking trail in the woods only to see you’ve barely made a dent in the landscape.

But the work itself reminds you of your quiet power: I did that. I am doing that. A steady calm replaces the buzz of anxiety, knowing you’re spending your time on this earth in a fruitful, meaningful way.

My husband is prone to grand pronouncements. He left a career in education without knowing what came next. He started training for a marathon, having never been a runner. On our family spring break in California this year, he walked out of a tour of Jack London’s house changed forever by a quote stenciled on the wall:

I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than be stifled by dry-rot...
The function of man (and woman!) is to live, not to exist.

Since then, when he’s encouraging us to take a leap—to try something new, to go big or go home—he throws his arms out wide, eyes twinkling, and says: ashes than dust.

Our kids roll their eyes. I laugh. But he’s right—and it’s inspiring. What are you going to do with your one precious life?

Here’s where I come in: practical, pragmatic, an optimistic realist. Big dreams are great, but we can’t do it Thursday because of volleyball, and Saturday’s already booked with a birthday party. Somebody has to remind us we can’t summit Everest and make it to soccer by noon.

This is why we work well together: big dreams need small, practical steps. Our values need actions. The big picture unfolds in a series of small frames.

So, for those of you who lean big dream or small action—how can you create a happy marriage of both? Because I’m in one, and it’s working.

That’s the psychology of behavioral activation in real life: we don’t think our way into purpose, we act our way there.

So pour the coffee, lace the boots, and take one small, intentional step toward the exciting big life you want. The thinking can catch up later.