Over the next few weeks, I’d like to invite you into an exploration of an idea that has been quietly growing in importance for me. It sits at the intersection of my work as an author, my role as a grandfather, my One Cause experiment, my Write On Purpose Coaching practice, and my growing conviction that stories may matter far more than most of us realize. The idea is called Thrutopia. Subscribe for the Thrutopia Series If that word is new to you, don’t worry. A few months ago it was new to me too. In this first article, I don’t want to explain Thrutopia so much as explore why it matters. Why stories matter. Why imagination matters. And why the future we create together may depend upon the stories we choose to tell ourselves and each other. Let me begin with a simple story. A few weeks ago, I was spending time outdoors with my grandkids, five-year-old Logan and three-year-old Piper. We were in the backyard where there’s a fantastic playground set up that has been the site for many of our adventures. This day was no exceptions. One moment we were climbing the ropes of a pirate’s ship, the next we were on a spaceship flying to Mars. Then, in the blinking of an eye we were dragon riders. To Logan and Piper, these weren’t merely games. They were possibilities. They were rehearsals for who they might might someday become. Watching these two beautiful children, I was reminded that long before children learn facts, they learn stories. Long before they understand economics, politics, or climate science, they begin constructing an understanding of how the world works through narrative. Who are the good guys? Who are the bad guys? What happens when challenges arise? Can ordinary people make a difference? Is the future something to fear or something to help create? One of our favorite shows to watch with Logan and Piper these days is Bluey. On the surface, it’s a delightful animated series about a family of Australian dogs (already a winner in my book). But beneath the humor and playful adventures are stories about imagination, kindness, resilience, creativity, friendship, and the importance of family and community. Episode after episode, children are quietly absorbing messages about what it means to be human—and perhaps just as importantly, adults are too. Stories answer those questions long before logic does. They help children—and grownups—develop an internal map of reality. They shape what we believe is possible, what we expect from others, and what kind of future we imagine ourselves inhabiting. What Stories Shaped You? I’d love to hear from you. What book, movie, television show, teacher, coach, or family story most shaped how you see the world today? Share in the comments. And then it struck me. Maybe adults aren’t all that different. Most people assume the future is created by politicians, corporations, technological breakthroughs, and economic forces. Certainly those things matter. But I’m not so sure that’s where the future begins. I think the future begins in imagination. One Cause is my ongoing exploration of the deeper narratives shaping humanity’s relationship with nature—and how we can create a regenerative future together. Before every nation, there was an idea. Before every movement, there was a story. Before every invention, there was someone who imagined something that didn’t yet exist. The Wright brothers imagined human flight. Martin Luther King Jr. imagined a different America. Jane Goodall imagined a different relationship between humans and the natural world. Every meaningful change begins twice: first in imagination and then in reality. Stories are the bridge between those two worlds. The more I’ve reflected on this, the more I’ve begun to see that many of the challenges we face today are not simply political, environmental, or economic. They are also narrative challenges. We are living amid what many people call the polycrisis—a convergence of climate disruption, political polarization, technological upheaval, economic uncertainty, social fragmentation, and a growing crisis of meaning. Yet beneath all of these challenges lies a deeper question: What story are we telling ourselves about who we are and where we’re headed? Because the dominant story many people seem to be living inside right now goes something like this: the world is broken, human beings are the problem (or at least those ‘other’ human beings who don’t agree with me), everything is getting worse, and the future is something to fear. If we’re honest, much of our entertainment reinforces exactly that narrative. Turn on the television, scroll through streaming services, or browse the bestseller shelves. Dystopian futures are everywhere. Civilizations collapse. Artificial intelligence takes over. The environment falls apart. Communities disintegrate. People betray one another. To be clear, I understand why these stories resonate. I’ve written a few of my own including The Stars Beckon, Babble and Rabble. They often contain important warnings. They can help us see dangers we might otherwise ignore. But warnings alone rarely inspire transformation. As I recently learned during a Gaia’s Call 2.0 conversation with author Manda Scott, people don’t change simply because they’re frightened. They change when they can imagine something worth moving toward. That insight landed deeply for me because when I look around, I don’t see a shortage of warnings. I see a shortage of compelling visions. I see a shortage of believable pathways toward a future people actually want to inhabit. I see a shortage of stories that tell the truth without surrendering hope. And perhaps that’s one reason so many people feel stuck. Human beings can endure remarkable hardship when they can see meaning, purpose, and possibility on the other side. Without that, fear easily becomes paralysis. This is where I find myself increasingly drawn to the idea that writers, artists, musicians, filmmakers, teachers, podcasters, and other creatives have a larger role to play than we often realize. Yes, creatives like you and I. Not because creatives possess all the answers. Lord knows I don’t. The deeper I dive into the polycrisis, the more aware I become of how much I don’t know. But perhaps our role has never been to provide answers. Perhaps our role is to expand what people can imagine. After all, before we can build a different future, we must first be able to see it. That realization has been quietly changing how I think about storytelling, about my own fiction, about Gaia’s Call, about One Cause, and even about the conversations I have with Logan and Piper. It has also led me to a fascinating question: Why is it that so many of our stories about the future seem trapped between two extremes? On one side, we find dystopias—stories that warn us where our current path may lead. On the other side, we find utopias—visions of a perfected future that often feel disconnected from the messy reality of getting there. One leaves us frightened. The other can leave us skeptical. Yet it seems to me there ought to be another possibility. What if there were stories courageous enough to tell the truth about the challenges we face while also helping us imagine realistic pathways toward a world we would actually want our grandchildren to inherit? What if stories could help us move beyond both blind optimism and doom-filled pessimism? That question led me to discover a growing movement known as Thrutopia. And it may turn out to be one of the most important storytelling movements of our time. In preparation for next week’s article, I’d like to invite you into a simple experiment. Pay attention to the stories you encounter over the coming days. The books you read. The movies and television shows you watch. The news you consume. The conversations you have with family and friends. As you do, ask yourself: What future is this story inviting me into? Is it inviting me toward fear or possibility? Toward helplessness (as in learned helplessness) or agency? Toward isolation or connection? Toward resignation or participation? You don’t need to judge the answers. Simply notice them. Because once you begin paying attention, you may discover that stories are shaping far more of your worldview than you previously realized. In fact, they may be shaping your expectations of the future itself. And that brings us to where we’ll begin next week. We’ll explore Thrutopia—what it is, where it came from, and why an increasing number of writers, thinkers, and changemakers believe it offers something our culture desperately needs right now: stories that tell the truth about where we are while illuminating believable pathways toward where we might yet go. Until then, pay attention to the stories. They may be shaping the future more than any of us realize. If this article sparked something in you, please share it with a fellow reader, writer, teacher, parent, grandparent, or changemaker. Stories spread one conversation at a time. An Update on Write On Purpose Coaching Since selling my small animal veterinary practice in 1989, I’ve been on a joyful adventure that has blended two lifelong passions: writing and transformational coaching. A few years ago, I brought those passions together through Write On Purpose Coaching, helping aspiring and emerging authors move from “one day” to “today.” Then, in late 2024, I took a hiatus from coaching to focus on my own writing—including much of what many of you have been reading here on Substack. Today, I’m excited to announce that I’m returning to Write On Purpose Coaching. Over the years, I’ve discovered that most people don’t struggle because they lack talent. They struggle because they lack clarity, confidence, accountability, or simply someone who believes in them before they fully believe in themselves. That’s why I continue to offer complimentary Creative Clarity Sessio
