My White Whale
Twice this week, in two completely different shows, I heard the same reference:
“The white whale.”
And it made me pause.
What is my white whale?
In Moby-Dick, the white whale isn’t just a creature. It’s obsession. Purpose. Revenge. Meaning — depending on how you look at it.
Captain Ahab chases it across oceans, not because he needs to… but because he must.
And that’s the question that lingered with me.
What is the thing I’m chasing?
For a long time, I thought it was success.
Then freedom.
Then reinvention.
Then this idea of becoming something new.
Over the past two years — across continents, cities, identities — I’ve been moving, searching, saying yes. And I told myself it was exploration.
But maybe part of it was pursuit.
Of something just out of reach.
Something I couldn’t quite name.
Was it clarity?
Was it purpose?
Was it a version of myself I believed existed somewhere else?
The danger of a “white whale” is that it can consume you.
You shape your life around it.
You measure your worth against it.
You delay your peace until you catch it.
And even then… what happens?
So I sit with the question now, a little differently.
Do I even want a white whale?
Or have I been slowly letting go of the need for one?
Because lately, it doesn’t feel like I’m chasing something anymore.
It feels like I’m building something.
Creating moments.
Standing on stage.
Making people smile.
Finding meaning in the doing — not the arrival.
Maybe my white whale was never a destination.
Maybe it was the belief that I needed one.
And maybe the real shift…
is no longer chasing something far away —
but being fully present with what’s already here.