Found this while looking thru a thumb drive. No idea how old or how I got it but it was written by Hugh MacLeod. More of his work here.
"Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb. You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you donʼt make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness. This metaphorical Mount Everest doesnʼt have to manifest itself as “Art.” For some people, yes, it might be a novel or a painting. But Art is just one path up the mountain, one of many.
Letʼs talk about you now. Your mountain. Your private Mount Everest. Yes, that one. Exactly. Letʼs say you never climb it. Do you have a problem with that? Can you just say to yourself, “Never mind, I never really wanted it anyway,” and take up stamp-collecting instead? Well, you could try. But I wouldnʼt believe you. I think itʼs not okay for you never to try to climb it. And I think you agree with me. Otherwise, you wouldnʼt have read this far. So it looks like youʼre going to have to climb the frickinʼ mountain. Deal with it. My advice? You donʼt need my advice. You really donʼt. The biggest piece of advice I could give anyone would be this: “Admit that your own private Mount Everest exists. That is half the battle.” And youʼve already done that. You really have. Otherwise, again, you wouldnʼt have read this far. Rock on.
Sing in your own voice. Picasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldnʼt paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinbergʼs formal drafting skills were appalling. T.S. Eliot had a full-time day job. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan canʼt sing or play guitar. But that didnʼt stop them, right? So I guess the next question is, “Why not?” I have no idea. Why should it?"