Access

There are certain life lessons I want to pass on to my daughter. Through my stories, both the literal ones and the ones written between the lines, I hope she gains some insight. And if you're reading this, these thoughts might offer a moment of reflection for you as well.

As much as I enjoy a great fictional tale, I’ve always been drawn to nonfiction. To real people, real stories, real stakes. But here’s the truth about nonfiction storytelling: whether you're writing a book, filming a documentary, or setting off on an expedition, it all comes down to one thing:

Access.

Access to people.
Access to locations.
Access to truth.

You can have a brilliant idea for a story, but without access to the archive, the witnesses, the location, or the lived experience, all you really have is an idea. I remember being warned about this by an award-winning documentary filmmaker. She once risked everything to enter North Korea, not for fame, but for access. As a woman, her path was especially difficult, but she returned with a story few others could have told.

And as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand something even broader: access is not just vital to storytelling, it’s fundamental to living a full and meaningful life.

Whether you're trying to explore, travel, build a career, maintain your health, or even fall in love, it all comes down to access. And access is something that’s constantly guarded. Price tags, laws, policies, permits, government restrictions, and institutional red tape are all forms of gatekeeping. These are the walls surrounding the cities of opportunity.

And then there are those holding the keys, or more fittingly, the passports.

In the days of the Mongol Empire, Marco Polo traveled the Silk Road carrying a golden paiza, a tablet of authority granted by Kublai Khan. It was his golden passport, granting him safe passage, shelter, and access across vast lands. Without it, many of the doors he walked through would have remained shut.

Today’s equivalents are wealth, status, fame, family legacy, powerful connections, beauty, or political favor. These are all keys to access, the equivalent of modern paizas, which allow the bearer to glide past barriers the rest of us are left staring at.

So what if you don’t hold a golden passport?

Allow me to paint a picture. You’re standing at the edge of a walled citadel. Inside lie the adventures, discoveries, and fulfillment you’ve dreamed of. The torches burn bright. You can hear laughter from within. That world feels meant for you. But you’re not on the guest list. The guards don’t recognize your banner. You have no royal lineage or formal seal.

So, what do you do?

You could walk away, convincing yourself it wasn’t meant to be.

Or, you could try something riskier.

You could forge a disguise, present yourself as someone with status or fame, someone the gatekeepers would admit. You might get through the gate, but you’d be doing so as someone else. And that would be an exhausting charade to keep up. In addition, any future deeds would be attributed to that invented persona and not to your true self. 

You could stake it all in a game of chance. Burn your reserves. Go all in and let luck make or break you from a longshot investment or roll of the dice. It might work. Or you may be left worse off than when you began, with no way to recover, losing all you worked to achieve thus far.

You could enter unpermitted. Sneak through a window or scale the walls at night. This is certainly a viable option, but be aware of the risks and consequences if the guards catch you.  

But there is a fourth option.

Build your own outpost.

Pitch your camp outside the gates. Light a fire. Raise your own banner. Beat your drum, not to imitate those inside the walls, but to send out a call that’s true to who you are.

If you do it with consistency, with clarity of voice and purpose, others will find you. Fellow outsiders. Wanderers. Like-minded souls who also weren’t granted passage, but who recognize your fire. Over time, that outpost becomes a destination in its own right. A gathering place. A community. And one day, those inside the gates may hear the stories being shared outside their walls and realize the real adventure was happening beyond their borders all along.

Just remember, authenticity matters. If your drumbeat is false, if your banner doesn’t reflect your true nature, the people you attract may be unwelcome guests. And eventually, you’ll find yourself back in disguise, hoping to meet the expectations of the crowd who have answered your call.

This isn’t meant to be advice, only a perspective. A lens through which to view the world, its gates, and the paths we take toward our goals.

I hope you are blessed with many keys and precious paizas, and if you are, I hope you use them wisely.

But if you aren’t… know that you still have options.

Never forget that some of the greatest stories in history began with a lone explorer and a self-drawn map.