About
the philosophy behind Becoming Capable™
the philosophy behind Becoming Capable™
growing for life
A four-year-old learning to tie her own shoes, and insisting on doing it herself.
A fifteen-year-old figuring out what he's actually good at.
A parent, twenty years in, still building skills nobody told them they'd need.
A family, learning together, how to get through an ordinary Tuesday.
Becoming capable doesn't belong to one stage of life.
It shows up anywhere someone is handed something real to do, and finds out they can do it. Not a lesson about capability. The actual thing, actually done.
So that's where I started.
A bored kid who wanted a job to do.
One summer, my stepdaughter was home, and I needed something better than pointing her
toward toys and art supplies she'd already stopped touching.
So I gave her one: an employee badge, a Big Boss to report to, and a promotion ladder that went all the way to CEO of a company we made up.
The paperwork was rough and I was inventing assignments between my own meetings.
But as far as we were concerned, she worked there.
I was surprised by how seriously she took it.
She didn't want to be kept busy. She wanted a role with responsibility.
She wanted what she did to matter.
Our terrible little game became the beginning of Horizon Harbor, and eventually,
part of a much bigger idea:
Capability didn't need to be the lesson.
Give someone a meaningful reason to participate, and it has somewhere to grow.
Becoming capable starts when something real is asked of us.
I first understood that when I realized I was going to become a parent. I couldn't call in sick, hand the job off, or borrow someone else's solution and make it fit.
I had to grow into the person only I could be.
I saw it again years later, at a smaller scale, in a kid who didn't want to be entertained. She wanted a job nobody else could do for her.
Real capability isn't taught. It's built by ending up somewhere no one else can stand in, and finding out you can hold it.
Everything I create gives someone something real to do.
Horizon Harbor makes that idea easy to see.
The world needs the child who enters it, and what they do there matters because it needs doing.
Becoming Capable takes that same idea beyond childhood. The roles change as we grow, but I want to keep making things that ask something real of the people who pick them up.
If it doesn't need you to pick it up and make it your own, then I haven't built anything worthwhile yet.
I want Becoming Capable to earn a place in your life by being useful there.
If something I make helps you become more able to participate in what matters to you,
it should be allowed to do its job and then get out of the way.
I will never design something to ask more of you than it gives back.
If Becoming Capable succeeds, you won't need more of it just because I made more.
You'll be able to do more with what you already have.