Why I’m Rewiring My Learning Style

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Angel's Landing high above the floor of Zion.

Angel’s Landing, high above the floor of Zion National Park.

Are you a life hacker? You know, a disciple of the 80/20 Pareto stuff Tim Ferriss digs into on how to achieve maximum results with minimal effort, a.k.a. minimum effective dose. I am a big believer in it and initially this post was going to discuss how I used those tools to sculpt my life into its current flexible form. Then I read Rich Roll’s recent viral post. To sum up, it says “stop lifehacking and enjoy the journey.” The direction of this article shifted beneath my typing fingers as I asked myself, “What makes my heart beat the hardest?”

That is certainly not an easy question to answer. At least I’m not jumping into the meaning of life, right? (That’s another post.) I’ve explored it in a peripheral way before, but my thoughts have crystallized recently via reading a few great books. In short: I’ve decided it is time to embrace a new learning style as a tool to better decipher a solution and create meaningful work.

Josh Waitzkin, subject of “Searching for Bobby Fisher,” has a great book called “The Art of Learning.” An early chess prodigy, Josh breaks down the process of diving deeply into a subject and pushing beyond above average into great, or even world-class, as he did with chess and Tai Chi. He discusses two types of learners, “entity” and “incremental,” with the difference fairly subtle but a tremendous insight into how my life has evolved. (He also has a great interview on the Tim Ferriss podcast, one of my favorite things to listen to on bike rides.)

Morning light in the Valley of Fire.

Morning light in the Valley of Fire.

An entity learner is one who believes they are inherently smart and their success is derived solely from brain power and natural talent, rather than smarts mixed with a solid dose of hard work and determination. This is reinforced if the person is the “best” fairly easily, such as in a tiny tank where it’s easy to be a big fish. They still work hard, but an entity learner’s biggest downfall is that the journey and process of learning are not the reward. Victory, whether an aced test or win on the playing field, is always the goal rather than the hours of learning or practice. Learning and challenges are fraught with frustration that can undermine the engine of success before it even pulls out of the station. This describes me perfectly in many situations – I’m easily angered by obstacles and sometimes quick to give up when the going gets tough. Anyone else like that?

Then there are incremental learners, who love deep-diving into a topic, no matter how confounding. To quote Dr. Samuel Johnson, “True genius is a mind of large general powers accidentally determined in some particular direction.” They will spend hours studying and practicing nuances of their fields, and are willing to build an unshakable foundation from the ground up, rather than tossing a few bricks randomly about and setting up an unstable ladder, rushing into an activity. What kind of learner are you? Perhaps it depends on the topic or activity, but I think most of us fall into one of the two camps.

Josh talks about learning to play chess in reverse starting with just a king and a pawn, rather than memorizing openings. Or learning the basic motions of martial arts with thousands of repetitions as compared to someone who takes two weeks of classes and then starts doing fancy kicks, then gives up entirely when they aren’t good at them. Do you think Chuck Norris jumped right into roundhouse kicks? Not a chance! (Quick fun fact: Chuck’s roundhouse kicks are the 2nd leading cause of death worldwide after heart attacks…most of which were caused by fear of a roundhouse kick. Har! C’mon, is that meme already dead?)

Coming back from a bike ride and sitting high up in the Valley of Fire watching a full moon rise over an empty valley.

Coming back from a bike ride and sitting high up in the Valley of Fire watching a full moon rise over an empty valley.

To be clear, incremental learners also hate to lose, yet don’t consider it a failure of their entire self, just a crack in their focus or technique. A rift to be studied and patched up with the mortar of hard practice. Compare that to an entity learner’s reaction to defeat, which is often “I lost, therefore I’m stupid or terrible at this,” which is a quick road to abandoning an activity at the first few hurdles and never coming close to mastery. It’s probably no surprise that many people at the top of their fields for a sustained period of time – Olympians, artists, chess Grandmasters, iconic business people – are incremental learners who push themselves to their edge over and over, learning from their failures and coming back stronger.

The shade of our comfort zone is an easy place to hang out. Areas outside the umbrella are bright and exposed, and sunglasses don’t help that raw feeling of pitting oneself against impatience, boredom and building true competency out in the glare of possible (probable, if you push to your edge) public rejection. Gotta work out in the sun and get burned to get a tan sometimes! For me, I declare it is time to put down the Mojito of Easy Living and get out of the lounge chair to start rebuilding my learning style in a way that will push me to achieve mastery, not just competency.

When I moved to Oregon after traveling overseas for a year, I was totally broke. Unfortunately, my aspirations as a travel writer were quickly slapped aside by the Steely Gauntlet of Necessity. I published a piece in a free online journal and even interviewed with a travel film company in Portland before the yoke of student loans and apartment rent snarled at my door and I took a job as an engineer. Writing was put on hold, and “life” took over. Well no more!

Two projects with which to practice this new focus: 1) Writing daily, as well as submitting my work to publications, even though it makes me nervous just thinking about it. (Getting denied sucks.) 2) A big, hairy audacious mental and physical goal, which we’ll announce soon!

Heading out of Zion toward Bryce Canyon.

Heading out of Zion toward Bryce Canyon.

I know shifting to being an incremental learner will not be easy. I’m impatient (to my core, some might say) and inherently bad at failing. Yet I think this path, a tougher one hewn through the granite of challenging goals, will help me contribute more to the world and be more fulfilled. After all, the best things in life make us sweaty. And the closer I get to where I need to be, the harder my heart will thump in my chest.

See you out there, chest pounding.

Dakota

If you enjoyed this post and want to follow along with our journey, check out the free newsletter!

Just west of Bryce Canyon is Dixie and the Red Canyon, an amazing playground stuffed full of hoodoos and great trails.

Just west of Bryce Canyon is Dixie National Forest and the Red Canyon, an amazing playground stuffed full of red rock hoodoos and great trails. Plus free camping!

High-Frequency Trading Is Just Another Wall Street Scam

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There’s nothing quite like knowing you’re getting ripped off, and my blood boiled after reading the book “Flash Boys” by Michael Lewis. It’s another brilliant work of non-fiction covering a topic about which everyone should be informed: high-frequency trading (HFT).

This topic is frequently in the news lately thanks to Lewis and his great work of investigative journalism. My takeaway is that we, the American people, are once again being ripped off by Wall Street middlemen to the tune of billions of dollars per year. In fact, even as the financial world crumbled in 2008 thanks to the mortgage debacle, with stock values and pension funds plummeting, high-frequency trading volumes were skyrocketing for the cloak-and-dagger firms operating in profitable obscurity.

Basically, HFT is where a firm trading in the stock market has a faster route to the stock exchanges than someone else, such as your investment platform (e.g. Fidelity or Schwab). That advantage is achieved via buying fiber optic cable or “co-location,” where a trading firm literally sets up their server INSIDE the building of stock exchange, paying millions to that exchange for faster access to information than you, I or our investment platform can get. The result is an unfair advantage that bilks us of our money yet earns these high-frequency traders an estimated $20 billion per year. While some companies, such as Vanguard (which I use), say that it reduces the overall cost to investors, that doesn’t seem to be the consensus of Flash Boys or other articles I’ve read about it.

There are 13 registered stock exchanges, such as the New York Stock Exchange or NASDAQ, all of which are for-profit entities. In the years since the traders on the floor that were buying and selling stocks have been largely replaced by computers, wiring and switches transferring stock orders, the footprint of the buildings of these exchanges have grown in square footage. Not to hire more people: to have more space to sell to these HFT firms that want to buy expensive space. We’re talking about millions of dollars to get a millisecond (one-thousandth of a second) advantage over other traders, and far more of an advantage over non-HFT firms.

Why would a HFT firm want to be close to a stock exchange? Here’s where it gets tricky – bear with me. Say an order for 10,000 shares comes out of Manhattan from a big retirement account run through Fidelity for the everyday American. As part of Regulation NMS, which implemented “National Best Bid and Order”, a huge institutional investor like Fidelity must buy the cheapest available shares on the market first, then fulfil the rest of the order elsewhere. The HFT guys have offers out to sell 100 shares of every company on the stock market at any given moment as a way to test the market. For example, say the stock in question is Apple. That HFT firm first sells Fidelity 100 shares of Apple at a price, then uses their speed advantage to race ahead using computer algorithms to all the other exchanges, buy up the stock and turn around and sell at a higher price, turning an instant profit. Think of this as a “gambler” betting on a boxing match that they’ve already seen. Easy to know a boxer is going down in the third round and win big every time!

THIS IS CHEATING. Not “creating liquidity” or any of the other euphemistic drivel applied to this tactic. These HFT firms, which are some of the most opaque in the market today, have been known to brag about being profitable every single day they operate. It’s just fractions of a penny per share being extracted…that EVERYONE in the country, except for these HFT crooks, is paying as a premium on every single trade we do, totaling millions of dollars per day in profit for the HFT schemers. A devious fiber optic robot dipping into every pocket and transferring it to silk-lined trouser pockets in New Jersey.

The book centers around a stock trader from the Royal Bank of Canada, Brad Kutsuyama, who learns he is being ripped off and goes on a search to figure out why. After years of investigation, he leaves his lucrative job and assembles a crack team of traders and tech wizards to create his own stock exchange, IEX, with the stated goal to deliver a fair and level trading environment. It has been a race to go fast for these HFT traders, with companies doing things like building a $300 million fiber optic line straight from Chicago to New York even if it meant tunneling straight through limestone. All to get a TWO millisecond advantage on the markets. IEX literally coils miles and miles of fiber optic cable in a box to slow down the signals from HFT firms, winning the speed race by going so slowly that the HFT punks lose their purchased advantage. This levels the playing field for anyone who wishes to place a trade. (I’ll leave it at that, check out the book for more detail if you’re interested.)

The most infuriating thing about this for me: Even with a stock exchange like IEX as a proven way for a trade avoid exploitation by HFT, and with big institutional investors asking their brokers and banks to fulfill their orders through IEX, it’s not happening. Why? Inertia, to some degree. And unclear, yet certainly lucrative, relationships between big companies like Goldman Sachs and the exchanges that pay them spiffs and other incentives to trade with them. Goldman could change things around practically overnight by placing orders on a fair exchange, but so far it isn’t happening to a very large degree.

High-frequency predatory trading such as the above is a bad thing that needs to be stamped out. It is a drain on the economy and is not contributing anything to the world. Instead of competition, launching new stock exchanges merely gave high-frequency algorithms more ways to take advantage of speed they purchase. At the time of this writing, IEX is the only exchange built around delivering a fair price that doesn’t offer incentives or co-location services to the HFT firms. It only earns income from a flat fee per trade, the way it should be!

The SEC, regulator of Wall Street, is not going to keep the sharks and their shredding teeth out of our trades. Regulators are too slow. So what can we, the ordinary investor, do to stop high-frequency trading? Take matters into our own hands and let capitalism and social media be our solution. Go to IAmAnInvestor.org and share the truth about how we’re all getting ripped off, or sign this petition. Ask your brokerage to execute your trades on a platform like IEX, where you are able to honestly exchange shares of a company for the real price and not get gouged. Hopefully the “Flash Boys” story will result in enough public outcry that the companies holding our retirement and trading accounts will pay attention and use their financial sway to do the right thing.

Originally published by Thought Catalog at www.thoughtcatalog.com.

Control Freaks Never Prosper

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Sunrise climb at Smith Rocks in Central Oregon.

Sunrise climb at Smith Rock in Central Oregon.

There’s a moment of truth in rock climbing and mountain biking where forward progress is the only option. Letting go of a solid climbing hold to make a move, fear swells in your throat until you reach a safer zone and breathe easier. Launching into a treacherous descent on the bike, you grip the handlebars in anticipation, then relax and go with the flow.

For me, these are two distinct types of fear, static and dynamic. Rock climbing is the former, an evaluative fear of leaving a position you know in a slow, calculated manner. Slow is good when you’re perched high above the ground on tiny footholds, fingers gripping a ledge, forearms filled with blood and thoughts of falling racing through your mind. Overgripping expends more energy and makes you fail faster.

On the other end, mountain biking is a dynamic fear where you rip around a corner, suspension jackhammering over rocks. Decision: weave left, right or try to jump the whole damn thing? One split second to decide how to navigate obstacles and then they’re behind you. Both these sports are certainly adrenalin-filled and intense, yet so different.

Climbing was my primary sport for 10 years, the thrill of conquering new routes crack in my veins. Chelsea grew to know terms like “redpoint” and “5.12b” like she was a climber herself. I dreamed about routes I’d climbed, retracing each move in my mind before I’d go back and repeat them in person, pushing myself. I loved it, and just writing this makes me smile thinking of climbing High Plains Drifter with my buddy Zack, views of the Columbia Gorge stretching out for miles behind me.

High above Banks Lake in NE Washington on a climb called "Fire Crotch." Because if you slip and fall, it's not good for things...

High above Banks Lake in NE Washington on a climb called “Fire Crotch.” Because if you slip and fall, it’s not good for things…

Fear of falling off a route is always present, even as merely a grain of doubt. There are a couple ways to go about it – believing you can’t make a move and giving up, or knowing the consequences and going for it, attempting to latch onto the next hold. Either way, if you fail there is brief moment where you’re in flight before the rope, bolts, quick draws and your climbing partner all work together to stop your fall. They are usually clean and smooth, yet falls are something that can be intimidating. Failure and its byproducts usually are!

For a long time, falling was something I would literally practice. Climb above my last protective bolt, let go and take a fall. Repeat. The idea was to disconnect the anticipation of falling and fear rather than dreading slipping off a move. Non-climbers will think I’m crazy, but every single book about mental training for climbing that I’ve ever read recommended this. And it works! You can literally train your mind not to fear the fall, and I was able to push my skills to new levels. The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the start of every fall was never eliminated, but my nerves steeled against it.

When Fear Takes Over

In early 2012, a switch flipped inside me. I suddenly loathed the idea of falling. Even writing about falling, my palms are sweaty as if I’m approaching a tough section of a climb where I know falling is likely. I stopped dreaming about a successful ascent and dreaded the failure. It was no longer fun, yet I kept going to the gym or heading out to climb outside as part of my programming. “I’m pretty good at this, so I’ll continue.” I still enjoyed the social aspect of the gym and the puzzle-deciphering of climbing, but something was missing.

I frankly don’t know why my desire to climb disappeared so quickly. Initially, I thought I was just bored after doing it for a decade. I suspect it was deeper than that though. I think it was continuously pushing boundaries with my business at the time, every decision a difficult one that my success hinged upon. There’s a fear management reservoir in my body and mine was tapped out.

There are studies about our ability as humans to only make a certain amount of choices per day, even easy ones, and I think that applies to managing fear as well. Even free-solo climber Alex Honnold, whose abilities to curb fear are famous, ran out of his elixir halfway up free-soloing 2,000’ Half Dome in Yosemite. Watching the (recreated) moment on film, he freezes (2:20 in the film) with his back to the wall, a quarter mile of potential free fall below him, and then summons the courage to continue.

Since shelving my climbing rope, I’ve picked up mountain biking as my primary activity. Oddly enough, I’d abstained in past years because I considered it more dangerous than climbing. Something about ripping down a trail into the unknown made it seem more treacherous. Tougher to control my surroundings in a free-flowing trail ride than a static, move-by-move climb. (After wrecking numerous times following skilled friends down rocky trails, I know there is more risk of death with climbing, but more frequent injury with biking.) The learning curve is as steep as the slopes I rode, and bouncing off rocks happened a few times in the first year of riding.

Climbing trip to Lake Louise (Canada). Climber is Dan Suppnick.

Climbing trip to Lake Louise (Canada). Climber is Dan Suppnick.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve over-gripped and tried to control my surroundings. Something in me craved routine and order, neither of which were prevalent in my family. (Something I’m grateful for now!) Playing Monopoly with me involved rolling the dice…and that’s all. I’d move the pieces, hand out money and cards and control it all. A small example of a reality resulting in not being vulnerable and truly trusting others to do their part. Self-sufficient and in control, always. Running the show solo has absolutely helped me with whatever successes I’ve achieved, yet the expression “your best is also your worse” is certainly accurate. My control freak side is both one of my greatest strengths and also my Achille’s Heal, depending on the situation.

Letting Go

What I find interesting is that my transition from the static fear of rock climbing to managing dynamic fear mountain biking coincided with breaking loose blockages in my work and physical life. In June 2012, I was square in the middle of business building and settling down in our lovely home, nesting away. Yet deep in my core was a strange unsettled feeling. I think it stemmed from a calcification of a reality I didn’t truly desire, the same way fear was beginning to freeze me on a climbing route. I was going through the motions in a framework I didn’t truly embrace. A good life, to be sure, yet one in which I felt stuck and unfulfilled.

While climbing, you can have all four appendages on the wall yet be totally out of balance. Picture your feet and hands off to the right, with your body leaning left. You’re straining to hold yourself in place, gripping holds with calloused fingertips. But what if you realigned things, moved a foot and hand left, and suddenly are able to rest easy, with 20% of the previous effort and a relaxed smile on your face.

At various points in my life, I’ve been the pumped out, a tired climber laboring to maintain my status quo, and it was more difficult that just letting go – except for the mental part. Even an incredibly uncomfortable position can seem safe sometimes. Think of a job you want to leave, yet the transition to a new career or working for yourself is scarier than being unhappy every day. I’ve been there, and the dislocation wasn’t easy. Yet my life is so much better for the fracturing, and I’m stronger knowing I can change paths again and will survive it.

Grinning during a 45-degree descent on Hi-Line trail in Sedona.

Grinning during a steep descent on Hi-Line trail in Sedona.

Control and letting others take the reins and lead is something with which I continue to struggle. However, right around when I stopped climbing and started mountain biking, it was as if a valve opened up inside me. This shift happened rather quickly. I certainly can’t give the credit to a switch from climbing to careening down trails, yet the parallel is interesting. In fall 2012, we took a six-week road trip through Colorado and northern California, testing the limits of my work. It forced me to hire another person, which I had been avoiding. Must…control…everything. That hire has changed the course of my business and led to others while allowing greater freedom, giving me the confidence to continue testing boundaries further.

I’m still scared of obstacles. This trail called life is full of rocks, drops, and sandy corners that leave me shaking my head after a wipeout. Yet I’m finding that moving past obstacles is considerably easier when I’m in motion, not stuck in a static position (be it physical, emotional, or intellectual). When I’m still, I over-analyze and “control” the future until it passes me by with a hot spray of dust in the face. The more I flex my dynamic fear muscle, the stronger it gets, and I think it helps me handle static fear as well (such as when I’m on an airplane on a bumpy takeoff) . I’m feeling more comfortable letting go of my status quo of the moment, knowing that I’ll be able to handle whatever comes my way. And though I’m not climbing now, I suspect that I’ll strap on climbing shoes again in this life and get back out there to test my limits.

Here’s to acknowledging your fears, whatever they are, and not letting them control you.

Dakota

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Rappelling off a long climb at sunset in the City of Rocks.

Rappelling off a long climb at sunset in the City of Rocks.

 

This Commercial Gets It So Right

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Remember my rant about Cadillac’s ad from a few weeks ago? Well, I wasn’t the only one who thought it was the worst thing ever, and the folks over at Team Detroit, Ford’s ad agency, have a spoof that is SO spot on. (Thanks for sending me the video James!)

Yes, they’re still selling cars. I get that. But we can applaud people in sustainability and make a profit without belittling other cultures and smirking from our poolside mansions. N’est-ce pas indeed Cadillac.

Unwrinkling the Brain – Why I Write

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The Morro Bay rock in Central California.

The Morro Bay rock in Central California.

Writing is taking crumpled up pieces of paper with my brain’s content on them and smoothing them to tape to a wall to review. Some are shreds of thoughts, and other pages may be creased, unintelligible content and smeared ink, but at least some of it is discernible.

If I skip this, I start the day with a head like a frustrated author’s garbage can, stuffed to the brim with balled-up attempts to convey a thought. Allowing (sometimes forcing) myself to write flexes the muscle in my brain that brings thoughts to the page in a linear fashion. I’ve noticed a correlation between not writing and scattered, unproductive days when I jump right into my email morass. I’m far more productive when I write for myself first.

I’m working on making writing an indispensable part of my life, but I’ll admit that it hasn’t been easy. Like meditation, it feels unnecessary when events in my life stack up and I get busy.

Yet it usually is the one thing I truly need. Similar to when Gandhi told his advisors that he needed to meditate an hour a day and they told him, “Oh no, you are too busy for that!” he responded,  “Well, then I now need to set aside two hours a day to meditate.” My goal is for writing to feel as necessary as eating and giving Chelsea a hug every day.

If there is one recurring theme accomplished writers recommend, it is to write every day. No matter what. Sit in front of a keyboard for an hour and just stare at the blank screen doing mental pushups to learn to write through the periods of disenchantment when it’s the last thing you want to do. Many of them describe the feeling of not writing similar to the way I feel when I don’t exercise for a few days – cranky, unfocused, angry. The morning pages from the amazing book “The Artist’s Way” hone that clarity, blowing away the chaff to leave the golden kernels, and that’s what keeps me coming back to the keyboard.

Hiking on the east side of Glacier National Park.

Hiking on the east side of Glacier National Park.

At this point, I’m not satisfied enough with my work to publish more than about ¼ of what I generate. Entire pages languish in draft form, and sometimes I’ll take an entire attempt and condense it down into a sentence to add into another composition. As Mark Twain said, “I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.”

Writing concisely is something the best authors do in a way that makes it seem so easy. Yet millions of words practiced daily and 7-8 revisions of their manuscript sculpt that “ease.” They don’t call them wordsmiths for nothing – those skills were honed in a dedicated apprenticeship.

I’ve found building a routine is making it easier. Headphones with classical music playing is my new muse (sorry Macklemore – you still get airtime in the van). While the morning is my clearest time of day, I find popping in ear buds in the afternoon or evening is beginning to trigger the same place of clarity. Phone on mute, piano plinking away, I can sort out things I read and conversations I have. You may sense my writing serves to share my thoughts, yet it’s also a proactive journey for me, a pause in the tumult of the last six years as I changed careers, failed a few times, built a business, got married, and designed my life to make a trip like this possible. Writing is helping me pause and sift through events and likely come out of our journey a different person.

Sometimes I think of my brain as a parachute stuffed in a backpack. Crammed inside, it isn’t much use. Pulling the ripcord and unfurling it to soar above life’s landscape is the only way to access all the connections and strings that connect back to my core. I write to access the power of cruising under that parachute canopy, to think and make sense of the jumble in my mind.

If the results are garbage, I know it was still productive, just like a hard run when it’s the last thing I wanted to do. And that’s what keeps me coming back to a blank page and blinking cursor. Even on the days where the last thing I want to do is write, it’s worthwhile. So here I am.

As my pen pal buddy Pam (an excellent writer) says, Write On!

Cycling in Glacier.

Cycling in Glacier.

Desert Solitude – A Week in Joshua Tree

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Bracing for a storm in the park.

Bracing for a storm in the park.

Joshua Tree National Park is one of those timeless landscapes that hard-wires me to my inner core. Towering starry skies where the wisdom of light years rains down. Crisp silent mornings as the sun brightens dew drops on Cholla cacti barbs and sparks fires on giant weathered granite boulders scattered to the horizon. And don’t forget the Joshua trees themselves, those Dr. Seussian cousins of the Yucca with their branching arms and unmistakable silhouette. The park is a stunning place to explore physically on foot, bike or vertically via rock climbing. Or it’s simply a place to sit and think deeply, and to laugh with new friends as camp fire shadows dance on the granite walls.

Subtleties are the binding agent for the park’s magnificence. Like a good concerto, the silence informs the sounds. A cool breeze whispering to the rocks. A solo hummingbird staking out his Ocotillo plant or a desert tortoise plodding back to his hideout in the sandy ground. Similar to the redwood forests of Northern California and the limitless Pacific waves, deserts carve out the oceanic feeling in my soul, that feeling of being part of something infinitely bigger, older and wiser than myself. They remind me of my status as a speck suspended in this giant universe, tugging Muir-like with my actions at every other strand of this web.

I think we all crave a sense of place and history, which is likely why new suburbs make us feel uneasy. A collection of homes, dropped from above as if by a lead-addled king’s whim. They lack any sense of creation or connection to the landscape and leave us adrift and lost in cul-de-sacs of desperation. The interwoven facets of a desert, evolved and battle-tested through eons of blasting weather, from the out-stretched arms of the Joshua tree down to the wood rat nesting at the base of its trunk, are a foundation of truth where we can plant our feet and draw a source of strength straight from the bedrock to clear away the haze of day-to-day worry beneath clear blue skies.

Solace and peace wash over me in places like this. Business deals raking my mind over the coals are superseded by peaceful slumber after a walk under the Milky Way. While we visited, there was a fantastic two days of thunderstorms that piled dark thunderheads high in the sky and raged wind and water, cleansing the land and reasserting just how powerful nature is. Yet the Joshua tree, starting as a small seedling on a sheltering nurse log, grow in a hostile environment and stand for centuries beneath baking sun, gusting wind and occasionally pouring rain, all with shallow roots no larger than a finger. My life is so easy in comparison. I am lucky to breathe deeply and take in a sunset vista after a boulder-hopping ascent to the top of a valley and take these centuries of effort in.

We’ve been on the road for four months exactly as I write this and yet the journey, wherever it takes us, is just unfolding. Traipsing is “to travel about without apparent plan, with or without a purpose.” My time in the high desert presented beautiful hikes and bikes rides, scintillating sunsets and limitless night skies. Beyond that, it yielded important clarity for me, blooming in sync with the rain-soaked desert at the end of our visit. I’m feeling new focus and priorities in my life, an upswell I’ve kept at bay with excuses too long. The time is now, always, to pursue passion and challenge myself, excuses be damned. This trip, originally slated to end March 1st, continues. Onward into the unknown we tread!

Ciao from Julian, quaint city in the mountains just northeast of San Diego famous for delicious apple pies. In the words of my good friend Ryan, NOMNOMNOM.

Dakota

P.S. More pictures below!

Turbines in the windy valley west of Palm Springs.

Turbines in the windy valley west of Palm Springs.

Touring around the park our favorite way.

Touring around the park our favorite way.

Five miles into the Boy Scout Trail looking north out of Joshua Tree.

Five miles into the Boy Scout Trail looking north out of Joshua Tree.

Tiny black flowers popping up along the Boy Scout Trail.

Tiny black flowers popping up along the Boy Scout Trail.

A misty and mysterious feel to the park during a rain storm.

A misty and mysterious feel to the park during a rain storm.

Early sun-watching session after climbing up some granite in the middle of the desert.

Early sun-watching session after climbing up some granite in the middle of the desert.

Halfway through the 30 mile Palm Canyon epic - desert single track for hours!

Halfway through the 30 mile Palm Canyon epic – desert single track for hours!

Hundreds of cholla cacti in a giant garden in the middle of Joshua Tree.

Hundreds of cholla cacti in a giant garden in the middle of Joshua Tree.

Here's what we look like these days!

Here’s what we look like these days!

Cholla cacti buds after a rain storm.

Cholla cacti buds after a rain storm.

Following the butterflies on a hike.

Following the butterflies on a hike.

One needs to be careful biking in the desert!

One needs to be careful biking in the desert!

Lights out in Hidden Valley as the sun dips low.

Lights out in Hidden Valley as the sun dips low.

A starry night in Joshua Tree.

A starry night in Joshua Tree.

Local Man Shocked to Discover He’s a Hipster

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HipsterPORTLAND, OR – After two and a half decades of living true to his values, Portland resident Blake “Jazzy” Richardson was stunned last Friday to realize he is a hipster. “It just hit me out of the blue while I was listening to an NPR special while smoking my fav foreign ciggie, a Viceroy, and sipping on a PBR.” Richardson said he has since confirmed the hunch with a few friends.

“You know, I’ve always had great eyesight, but nothing seems to match plaid better than a pair of thick-rimmed glasses with no lenses, so that’s how I’ve always rolled. To find out that is “hipster” shook the foundation of my very being,” said Jazzy, who is also plays trumpet for the Persnickety Misfits, a 12-piece piano/tin can/guitar/violin/mouth harp ensemble catering mostly to “people who like to expand their sense of the surreal soundscape labyrinth of the 20s, 40s, baroque and grunge rock eras of music.”

Jazzy’s mom, Linda Richardson, says that “Little Blakey-poo was always on the edge. If his friends rolled up a pant leg, he rolled up two. They rolled up two, he was back to one. Always so ahead of things. He wore jeans before they were jeggings, and pretty much has always hated admitting that he enjoyed anything. Having fun was so uncool for him.”

We brought in expert hipster analyst Liz Ernhardt to dissect the situation. As she pointed out, simply looking at Richardson’s Facebook profile uncovers many tell-tale signs of hipster status. Big sideburns, not smiling in profile pics, ironically dining at Applebee’s but hating it, a picture from Europe in front of the Eiffel Tower titled, “Yeah, it was alright,” plus many shots on his favorite bike, a 1980’s steel frame fixed gear with 4.5” long handlebars and a gold chain.

Strangely enough, however, according to Ernhardt, “the fact that Jazzy didn’t realize he was a hipster actually puts him in the running as a leader in the pantheon of hipsters. Especially in Portland, where competition for status of Best Hipster of Them All (BHTA) is tough to overcome. That fact alone gives him 57 HipPoints in the competition.”

It isn’t so easy to win the BHTA battle. For instance, take one of Jazzy’s cohorts, Arnold “Woot” Westinghouse, who is so hip that he literally has discovered bands that don’t even exist yet. Or Nick “Lameness” McDouglas, who has panned fashion styles, tattoos (other than his own, which he doesn’t even understand they are so complex), restaurants, travel destinations, and dog barks for almost 26 years.

Not that Jazzy seems to care, after two days to come to grips with things. “Competition? I’m not into that. That is so lame!” was the final rejoinder to our interview as he packed his new iPhone 5s into a slick messenger bag, snapped his cycling cap tight to his head and swung his leg over his fixie. “I just live true to myself, bro. And that’s what matters.”

Dakota’s note: Prior to this trip, I was a member of a brilliant concept some friends came up with called a Creativity Support Group. It pushed us to do things like write, draw, compose, and otherwise be creative with a group of supportive friends holding you accountable to the project. The prompt that resulted in this piece: write an Onion article.

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This Commercial Gets It So Wrong

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The other night, we were watching the Winter Olympics with Chelsea’s grandma and this commercial played. Check it out – it’s only one minute long, and then I can start ranting.

Done? This commercial is the worst thing I have watched in as long as I can remember. Sure, it’s intended to polarize opinions. Mission accomplished: I barely kept down my dinner while choking back anger.

For me, it represents so many of the anachronistic, GDP-worshiping ideals that skewed our sense of work/life balance so badly in the past, lingering aspects to which our society is still chained. While it’s an electric vehicle and a step in the right direction, Cadillac is selling the expensive car via a patriotic slant to a wealthy clientele who work hard and want to show it off.

To be clear, I don’t dislike wealthy, driven people. I realize, as the ad points out, that Bill Gates, Les Paul and the Wright Brothers created great things for the world. Many of them inspire me, and Ted Turner and Warren Buffet are two of my favorite people to read about, though Yvon Chouinard of Patagonia and his “let my people go surfing” mentality is how I try to pattern my business practices.

However, it makes me livid that Cadillac actually thinks people will buy more of their vehicles by pointing out that the French work LESS than us. “I may only get two weeks off per year, but my big house, expensive car, long commute and obedient, well-clothed family are worth the stressful hours as a C-suite executive at my chemical byproducts company!”

Perhaps we should just break it down, word by word, just so we don’t miss anything. I’ll have a conversation with our main character. Let’s call him Mr. Ass Hat – he’s in bold.

“Why do we work so hard? For what? For this? For stuff?” Hey, a commercial that gets it! I like it already. Thanks for changing things up a bit.

Other countries, they work, they stroll home, they stop by the café. They take August off. OFF. Why aren’t you like that? Why aren’t we like that? Juuuust a second…Is this a quiz about the evolution of the American work place? Geez, I better re-read Howard Zinn’s A People’s History! Well Mr. AH, I believe our society is currently on the mend and we are trying to refocus our lives so that we have time for ourselves, friends, families, and a little break from the grind without feeling guilty about it striving to earn the gold retirement watch. Give it time, it is coming.

“Because we’re crazy-driven, hard-working believers. Those other countries think we’re nuts. Whatever. Were the Wright brothers insane? Bill Gates? Les Paul? Ali?” You fucker, you tricked me! Everyone I know WANTS to have more time off to relax and regroup. You’re telling me we can’t do that and create positive change in the world at the same time? Curses. And what do we believe in? The Dream of GDP over anything else, including happiness and personal fulfillment? I wasn’t aware that other countries think we’re nuts – where’s the Wikipedia link? Perhaps they just wonder how we work so hard, with so few breaks, and feel sorry for us? I certainly feel sorry for us. (And sad for your ignored kids and wife, for the record.)

“Were we nuts when we pointed to the moon? That’s right. We went up there and you know what we got? Bored. So we left. Got a car up there, left the keys in there. You know why? Because we’re the only ones going up there, that’s why.” Captain Pompous (I mean, Mr. Ass Hat), I appreciate your point here – the moon landing was a great accomplishment and inspired young engineers all over to create amazing things. I’m an engineer by degree myself and love the innovative American spirit. BUT, we didn’t “get bored” on the moon. And innovation doesn’t only live in a 60 hour work week tied to a long commute in a shiny new payment…err, car.

And there were countries from around the world that contributed know-how and products to help get our rockets and astronauts to the moon. And now we’re even more connected trade-wise across the world. Yes, we need to bring back real manufacturing to our country, and buy local, and support produce grown close to home, but we aren’t decoupling ourselves from international trade.

“But I digress. It’s pretty simple: You work hard, you create your own luck, and you gotta believe anything is possible.” Two in a row! I actually agree with you on all these points, and believe luck is not to be confused with skill. But a commercial flaunting a $75k electric car that no middle class American family can afford can certainly be confused with Ass Hattery! You gotta BELIEVE you can lease a car for $900 per month because that load of crap doesn’t make sense any way you slice it. Believe, don’t question. Wait, isn’t that what cults teach their inductees?!

“As for all the stuff, that’s the upside of only taking two weeks off in August.” Mr. Ass Hat, you are wrong. Trading your life for possessions is so 20th century. As far as I can tell, most kids crave more time and attention from their parents. Time is a non-renewable resource! Books, movies and death bed quotes point out what should be obvious: Time spent with family and friends doing things you love is the most important thing in life.

There must be a reason so many surveys find “working too much” is a top regret for most people at the end of their lives. Take a long vacation and leave the smart phone off for once. Once you fulfill that, you are recharged and ready to go back to the office, whatever form that takes, and create amazing work that benefits the world. Running on a treadmill to accumulate possessions  is a ticket to suffering, dear sir.

“N’est-ce pas.” I’ll let you interpret this French phrase. If you read this far, we’re on the same page anyway!

—

I feel like this ad perfectly demonstrates the dichotomy happening in the U.S. between many in my generation and the old beliefs of business owners and executives from a bygone era. Reading through the YouTube comments, I see a mix of “Wow, that’s a hot car,” “GO AMERICA” and then the occasional “Doesn’t this BS infuriate you too?” I can only hope it offends more people than it spurs into buying a new car.

My generation, those born after 1980 – the next power brokers in corner offices around the world – are instead interested in creating B Corps and non-profits that better the world, not just their pocket books. Beyond that, some of us are into reinventing the workplace, DIY hobbies, remote working arrangements, car sharing, rightsizing our lives, decluttering, staycations, and flexibility or time off over salary and health insurance. Selling prestige and power to Millennials is hawking a ketchup Popsicle to a woman in white gloves – mistimed, dumb as hell, and missing the mark entirely.

America, we are smarter than to buy into this commercial, and doing so won’t crush the stock market. We can work hard creating positive change in the world and still aspire to take a month off in the summer. We can create amazing companies and still be around for love and connection with those we cherish.

Don’t look back in 30 years and have the same regrets as so many before you. Mr. Ass Hat, I’m choosing to take a different path, and there are many like me.  We’d love to have you along for the ride.

Sweatpants in the Closet, or Musings on How to Live a Life True to Yourself

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Sunset over the cliffs of Santa Cruz at the end of a mountain bike ride.

Sunset over the cliffs of Santa Cruz at the end of a mountain bike ride.

I wore sweatpants almost every day until the 9th grade. I considered stopping after Emily, a stylish girl in my speech class with bangle earrings, pointed it out.

It ended when Darren ridiculed me in front of the basketball team on a game day when I wore sweats with a button-up shirt. I still have dreams about running and hiding from that guy and his put-downs, then turning to fight and destroy. (I always win in my dreams, a lovely silver lining.) I’ve forgiven my assailant at this point, along with the other tormentors of my youth, but my subconscious apparently has not!

To fit in, I started wearing name brand clothing. I worked numerous jobs through high school and paid my own way a lot, a great character building experience that taught me the value of hard work and saving. Tommy Hilfiger sweaters and Levis jeans don’t come cheap for a kid – that’s a whole lot of hours stocking shelves at Safeway for $5.15/hr. Yet somehow it seemed worth it. As our roadtrip muse Macklemore raps regarding the power of marketing to manufacture desires: “I wanted to be like Mike [Jordan], I wanted to touch the rim, I wanted to be cool, I wanted to fit in.” We don’t start out seeking material items, but advertising starts early and builds a willing consumer. It sure worked on me. More importantly, over time it can create a reliance on external assets and the validation of others to substantiate one’s existence.

Growing up, my family was different, and in a good way. Artists, creativity pouring out. My parents worked hard, yet prioritized time spent with the kids rather than the office, for which I’m forever grateful. We didn’t have much, but healthy, organic home-cooked meals and warm clothes were always available. What else does a kid need? On top of that, art was always part of our daily lives. Beyond pottery, drawing, painting, and other fun activities, we had an old Datsun station wagon that became the Art Car. We kids spray painted it camo, bolted bowling trophies to the hood and an arcade turret gun to the roof and dismembered Barbies to the door. Not quite a Suburban parked by the basketball hoop.

All that was amazing fun…until I hit junior high and “needed” to conform to the Middle School Stereotype. Looking back, I am more aware that others were trying to fit in also, stuck in the bottled pressure of a small-town high school in Idaho, angst fizzing out the cap. Then, it was all about me. I was a great student and a solid athlete, but peer pressure is a powerful force. I stopped my art pursuits and focused on academics and sports. While there were certainly positives to that, I still regret shelving that creative outlet so early in my life. No time like the present to reawaken those aspects of my life!

A split in the tracks.

A split in the tracks.

Different Paths

It took me years of living on my own, forging my own way, to realize that always trying to fit in undermines your inner strength and courage to truly earn success and unearth your core powers. You’ll never get what you truly desire, just a cheap replica obscuring your true capabilities. If you’re always doing what someone else thinks you should, how do you turn into a full-fledged, winged avenger of your dreams?

It certainly wasn’t overnight. For me, fitting in initially was primarily tied to things money could buy, and I didn’t have much. For example, when I was in college in California, I was the most broke I’ve ever been. Ever the master budgeter – a professor later wrote a letter of reference extolling my “close-to-the-vest finances” – I survived on $40 per month for food. (This was 2001, not 1965.) If it weren’t for a generous grandma who paid my rent that first year while I scraped by paying out-of-state tuition, I probably wouldn’t have made it to my 2nd year. Since I was charged per college credit, I even dropped elective classes, taking only required engineering classes.

It was strange living in a well-to-do college town populated by loaded white kids rolling around town in brand new Mustang convertibles they received as a graduation gift. My new friends didn’t give a second thought to expensive dinners out, long road trips on the weekends to snow board, or seeing Incubus in concert. (I recall making up an excuse to my roommates about why I couldn’t join them before listening to the album in my living room in the dark while they went to the show.)

My car, a red 1988 Corolla GTS that I adored during high school, was no longer something I was proud of. It felt more like an anchor lodged in my past, a beacon of my upbringing. I actually considered taking out a $10k student loan to add upgrades to it before (luckily) changing my mind. Good thing – comparing oneself to others is a bottomless pit. Trying to fit in never ceases, the definitions and criteria merely change.

Breaking the mold that a poverty mentality creates isn’t easy. Compared to others, we weren’t even poor, but my frame of reference was fixed relative to those around me. It’s a long climb out, yet I feel craving material goods when I was younger, and having to earn whatever I wanted, taught me more about myself than anything I’ve done with the exception of traveling the world. I worked three jobs through college, including internships every summer, and managed to score more grants and scholarships, plus jumping through hoops to get in-state tuition to cut my costs dramatically.

By the end of my senior year, I was solid financially, and my vest pockets were stuffed even more after a summer working a ton of hours as an intern. All this culminated in a trip overseas for a year of travel, my first time abroad, around the world with no particular motive or itinerary other than to explore. Just me, a backpack, and the open horizon.

Learning to work hard! Digging a foundation under our house growing up.

Learning to work hard! Digging a foundation under our house growing up. No old photos of me in sweatpants exist…sorry.

I gained something amazing that year: a revamped perspective regarding what makes me happy. Seeing and meeting people happily living in what the western media portrays as a deprived existence tweaked my viewpoint and made me think. We should all be so lucky as to journey the world getting that important education. Want is not need. I recall this hitting home during a bike ride in Laos in the middle of the week when I saw a family – with three generations present – laughing and hanging out in the middle of the day in their tiny little shack. They didn’t have much, just what really matters.

It is simply a fabricated story from advertisers and pressure you put on yourself to own something shiny, to look a certain way, take a glitzier vacation, and fit in, often with the cost of less time with family or pursuing dreams. Shaking off the desire to impress others is a life-long battle, and strong jaws of the consumption bear trap can still grab hold in a fierce way. They don’t call it “trappings of success” for nothing either. 

High above Big Sur hiking Soberanes.

High above Big Sur hiking Soberanes.

Changing How You Look At Money

There is an amazing book, “Your Money or Your Life,” by Vicki Robin and Joe Dominguez. Buy it. Read it. Then put its contents to work. The basic tenet is this: when you are working for money, you are trading your time and energy, YOUR LIFE, for money. So you better be sure that the results of that energy are directly corresponding to making you happier and more fulfilled. The authors have the reader count up the hours and money spent on work – including commuting, buying clothes and lunches, expensive I-work-hard-and-deserve-this trips – and then calculate the true cost of your efforts. Would you tolerate a condescending boss, or weekend/evening hours, if you were making 1/3 as much in real money?

On our honeymoon, Chelsea and I went through this exercise with her prior career and decided to downsize to just one income and reprioritize our existence around things that make us happy. It’s a fairly short list: time with one another, our friends and family; health via more home-cooked meals; travel and adventure (nice and open-ended for that last one!). It was a big step since she’s always supported herself, but I can hands-down say it’s the best decision we’ve made as a couple.

We make less combined money, yet earn far more than money ever made available via connection with people we love, great food, more travel, and the ability to shake the hand of serendipity and opportunity when it wanders into our path. We’re not perfect by any means, but we consider purchases through a lens of whether it will contribute to our long-term happiness. When you frame money as the result of your life energy, snapping up a new laptop takes on new meaning if your current one is just a little slow. And buying and outfitting a camper van is worth it when it creates possibilities for adventure.

From working in the finance industry, I can tell you this with confidence: those who appear wealthy often live beyond their means. A big house and shiny cars do not equal wealth until you own them, rather than the bank. You aren’t a millionaire just because you own a home worth a million dollars. Cars and homes are the clearest way to say “I’ve made it,” yet 90% of people with cars take out a loan to buy it, and paying off a home mortgage is practically a joke this day and age. It is so inspiring to see amazing friends change their lives to shatter that mold, doing things like killing off all their debt and living in a tiny house, or heading out on a long sailing trip with open horizons.

Looking back with sophomoric wisdom, I’m glad I didn’t fit in. I realize now that it pushed me to be who I am, over and over. In fact, some of the most interesting people in my life are the ones who felt (or feel) like outsiders. The misfits and losers in high school are out changing the world creating art, music, families, businesses, and writing of which to be proud. You can’t truly create change if you’re worried what other people think about you all the time – it’s like running a race with shackles on your ankles.

Evening beach walk in Morro Bay.

Evening beach walk in Morro Bay.

The morning I started this essay, I woke up on a beach in Northern California. We went for a walk among frost-tipped dunes and watched a group of seals play in the surf as the sun came up. I had a tremendous feeling of gratitude for my friends, for my life, and for the opportunity to choose my path wherever the journey takes me. I’m feeling it again this morning hanging out in the arid mountains of Santa Monica north of L.A. listening to the hum of commuters heading into the city.

It isn’t about others and their perception of you; it’s whether you are living a life honest to yourself. You can buy and own fancy things, but do it to be happy, not to impress others. Anything else is merely armor to protect ourselves when all we want is acceptance for who we are, stripped bare of expensive bangles. Not the easy path, but the one that feels true.

And all that said, I’m nowhere near where I want to be. I’m still fighting to be who I want to be, one day at a time. The sharp, spiny barbs of trying to fit in stay lodged in the psyche for years. People will forget what you did, but never how you made them feel. Rising above the criticism to be yourself, to create great work when everyone around you is questioning your path, is one of the toughest challenges for all of us. It’s a constant evaluation of who you truly are, and what drives your happiness, not your neighbor’s approval. And remember the two-way nature of it, since those you judge will recall the sinking feeling of criticism decades later. Indeed, while I can’t remember the exact cruel words from my time in high school, to this day I haven’t worn sweatpants.

Here’s to wearing (and doing) whatever makes you happy and comfortable.

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A Vision for 2014

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Happy New Year! Onward we go into a fresh twelve months of new horizons and challenges, fun adventures and who knows what.

After a crush of activity for a few months, we took it easy over the holidays. No better time to disappear and kick back for awhile than the end of the year. We spent over a week with family in Santa Cruz, and then Chelsea and I rang in January 1 with a group of friends – cooking dinner together, watching the sunset turn into a starry sky, and laughing our heads off.

Biking on the Ohlone Bluffs with Chelsea and family.

Biking on the Ohlone Bluffs with Chelsea and family.

For the last three years, we’ve created Vision Boards with our rad friends Jamie and Evan to kick off the new year. The general idea: gather a pile of magazines (we got ours from a doctor’s office and a few salons – with permission of course!) and put them in a giant stack in the middle of the table. Flip through them, scissors in hand, and snip out words, pictures and symbols that speak to you for how you’d like the next year to unfold. Occasionally sneak a random funny one to a friend’s pile such as “hot sex” or a picture of a goofy animal or person. Then compile it all into a collage, a vision of the coming year. (I always end up reading articles and only finding a few images, but hey, it’s a team effort.)

Here’s our vision board for 2014. This was all Chelsea – other than the Mercedes symbol from yours truly – and I love it. Looking at it makes me even more excited for the rest of this trip and beyond!

SONY DSC

With the holidays behind us, now it’s back to work. I am stoked to have hired two fantastic people who start next week – it’s amazing what can be done remotely – and we are also on the road again. Big Sur and SoCal, here we come! It has been a fantastic three weeks (my how time flies!) in the Santa Cruz area exploring the ocean beaches and cliffs, grassland trails, redwood groves and open meadows on foot and by bike. More pictures and stories to come from our time here as I fire up the ignored keyboard and get back to writing.

Wishing you an adventurous and fulfilling 2014. May new horizons open up in all the directions you envision!

Cheers to 2014!

Cheers to 2014!

Dakota and Chelsea

What’s the Best that Could Happen?

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Giant cables holding up the Golden Gate Bridge, SF in the background.

Giant cables holding up the Golden Gate Bridge, SF in the background.

Yesterday, someone I haven’t spoken to for years contacted me out of the blue. They’d recently lost a spouse to a terrible battle with cancer, their kids are in college, and are in a major period of transition. Their dilemma: Whether to rebuild a business, or sell it all and head out for travel and exploration, either volunteering abroad or working overseas.

Shifts like these can be terrifying. With no clear path and certainly no easy choice, how do we make a decision? Just arranging our thoughts, with all the different influences and logistical hurdles, can shut down a flow of ideas. Sure, we can say, “What’s the worst that could happen,” and maybe it isn’t TOO bad. Yet we still come away robbed of our full potential.

I try to frame unknown outcomes a different way: What’s the best that could happen? That oh-so-simple tweak has amazing power! Instead of, “Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” think of that flipped 180 degrees. “Best case is that I find a fulfilling, rewarding path that enables me to shake out of this rut and discover something amazing about myself or the world.”

I know a gutsy lady who got on a plane to Prague from the U.S. to meet another traveler for a month-long, blind first date among the castles of the Czech Republic and vineyards on the islands of Croatia. Lots of reasons not to go, yet she did it anyway. I’ve seen positive thinking like that turn into magic when people put themselves out there and transform fear into personal power.

Middle of a redwood grove.

Middle of a redwood grove. (Humboldt Redwoods State Park, NorCal)

The unknown, that wide open horizon when we have many choices or available paths, is often paralyzing. And as if that isn’t enough, fear of being afraid limits action even more. Thinking from the stance of “what’s the worst that could happen?” can drag us down. The problem is that takes us instantly to a dark place, where the tendrils of doubt snake at our brains.

That kind of mental drama saps us of productive efforts to solve a confrontation or travel new roads. Robert Frost’s famous poem about taking the road less traveled, and that making all the difference, is the route of an adventurer. Perhaps…but there is more to it. Take the soul path, that route that most speaks to our inner core, and don’t look back.

I admit that taking the best case can be tough to implement. Fear is a badass opponent and wears many masks, tearing them off to reveal a freezing Medusa when we thought all was well. We still need to plan, and persevere, and fight through the obstacles we’ll encounter along the way. Every business, relationship, or trip has that honeymoon phase of syrupy sweet and then a valley of doubt at the bottom before we climb on out to the canyon rim to look back in triumph.

I didn’t always take this approach. It is still a conscious effort. To turn a best case mentality into a habit, I am constantly reminding myself to take the positive perspective. Not attaching to negative thoughts is hard, probably because trying to control them is far more difficult than just letting the thoughts flicker dully and subside, a fire without oxygen. Focus instead on the empowering thoughts, fanning that flame until our mind is ablaze with the bright possibilities of the future.

Lighthouse at Cape Blanco.

Lighthouse at Cape Blanco.

And often, life rewards us for bravery. That girl who went to Prague for a blind date? Well, that guy she flew to meet is me, and I’m lucky enough to be married to Chelsea because she saw the best case and went for it. The courageous path can unlock potential not just for us, but for those we encounter on that journey as well. We never know where it will go or whom we’ll inspire along the way.

To my friend who is contemplating next steps for their life: Whatever your array of options, take the best case for the possibilities. Mull it over, and then step out there courageously and be rewarded with the fruits of your awesomeness. Good luck on the journey! Seek something you haven’t done before. Do it now! And if you’re scared and excited at the same time, that’s a good sign. May your path be new, scary and exciting wrapped into one.

Embracing the Hard Path

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The foundation for the redwoods, covered with needles.

Floor of a redwood grove.

For a long time, I struggled with jealously and resented the success of others. I wanted the easy route to wealth, admiration and fulfillment. This colored many things in my life, rarely in a positive way.

The shift from jealously to inspiration began in early 2009. I had left my engineering job the summer prior and explored the Pacific NW and Canada rock climbing and cycling nearly every day for about six months. With dwindling funds and a mortgage payment, I needed to make money. The problem was that I had zero idea what I wanted to do, other than it couldn’t involve me going to an office and working for someone else.

As my insightful friend Alex Payne mentions in his great post on advice for someone wanting to work for or build a startup, some people create a business just to have one. For the money, fame, recognition, connections…not because they have an idea they’re passionate about, or a flaming idea in hell what to do with themselves.

I was the latter, and I sought the easy path. A friend and I worked on some tech-related business plans with proposed wow-that’s-a-mouthful names like TechasaurusRex and Techmopolitan. We then succumbed to the Siren Song promises of easy riches via a Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) company called Lightyear Wireless, then tacked on another one for good measure. ACK. Makes me want to gag just writing that.

That experience of a couple months was short-lived, as MLM’s usually are, and I felt dirty and manipulative every day I worked on that project. Not all are bad, but MLM’s often prey on the hopes and dreams of lazy wealth seekers, the down-and-out, and the uneducated, and I was casting about a lot at that point, desperate not to return to engineering heat transfer tables. Chelsea, ever my guiding light and the wiser of our union, immediately smelled stink and was against it from the start, and she was right. Luckily, I managed to escape with only the cost of an LLC license, a few Craigslist ads and a lot of time, but the hard-core shellacking to my ego took awhile to repair. Five years later, I still cringe and want to delete this entire section, and am sharing only because sometimes success looks so easy, with no obstacles, when indeed there are many.

I’ve come to believe there is no easy ticket for creating success. There is only putting yourself out there into the world in a positive, confident way to share the skills you have to offer and develop those you don’t. After that bitter MLM pill, building my business reputation happened client by happy client, and it has taken five years of hard work to get where I am now. (Parked in the Humboldt Redwoods, at this very moment.) There were phone calls with sobbing, stressed out home buyers late at night (one later took me and the Realtor out to an expensive sushi dinner for the hours of counseling), tough decisions, cold calls, presentations to build my business to groups of uninterested people. Hard. Uncomfortable. Honest. WORK.

Anyone who is successful has failures they use as stepping stones to step to the next level, hundreds of pages of torn up rough drafts, miles of training runs, and plenty of nights lying awake worrying about a disappointed client. The grass is always greener until you step in the cow patty two strides into the next field, yet backing up often results in getting snagged in the barb wire fence of your ego. It is so hard to stick to your guns, believe in yourself, and not jump from project to half-started-project when the headaches hit. Yet following that tougher path will motivate both your colleagues, employees and loved ones, to follow you to the bare, bitter end, so long as you have a plan and a vision. They will question you along the way, and should, but believe in you nonetheless.

Such is the path of those who create and push boundaries, whether their own business or at a company. And once you get there, achieve what you’ve dreamt of, many are doomed like Sisyphus to get bored and stale and start over, pushing the rock back up the hill only to look back over a shoulder at the bottom for new, bigger, more lopsided boulders that create a new, “fun” challenge. How much is enough, anyway?

These days, the tables have turned, and in a good way. Same as Alex, I get a lot of calls and emails from people looking to work for themselves who are scared to make the move. Health insurance coverage is a big one – I should write an entire post on that. Loss of camaraderie with co-workers. Fear of failure, which I think is often confused with fear of success – what if I achieve my dreams and show all the people who bet on my failure and want to keep me in a comfortable box where they know how to relate to me? Growth can scare those around you, make them jealous rather than inspiring them to push themselves.

And sometimes, as Alex mentions, you lose friends, health, and other valuable parts of your life because of work, whether you fail or succeed. “When you’re young, friendships feel like a renewable resource” was my favorite line from his post, and I absolutely believe that. It took me awhile to learn that, and now it drives my devotion to the amazing friend support structure I’m lucky enough to have. And support they do – not financially – but in myriad other ways we all appreciate when it happens.

I recall working as an engineer on a project, a new student dorm. It was Chelsea’s birthday. A document set, which would be revised the next day by the architects and waste all my work anyway, had to go out that day. There just wasn’t enough time, and we had dinner reservations for that night at a nice restaurant. The project manager wouldn’t let me leave – he literally stood over me, the sucker young engineer – until I finished it. I pushed back our reservation twice, with Chelsea rescheduling, and then had to cancel entirely.

This wasn’t the first time I’d had to work late, even getting home after midnight occasionally. “Work 50 hours per week minimum if you want to make partner,” was the mantra. When I finally got home, it was after 10 p.m. and Chelsea was all dressed up to go out, crying softly in the dark. My heart just about crumpled.

I gave my notice to the company soon after and haven’t looked back. It hasn’t always been easy, but for me, it has been the right path.

Wishing you all the success in the world,

Dakota

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Why We Traded Our Perfectly Nice House for a Van

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People ask why we moved out of our home to hit the road in a van. A reverse American Dream in many ways, right? Stability traded in for the unknown, with all the headaches that traveling daily bring with it. And all the adventures, good or bad. Millennials, through and through!

The nuts and bolts of travel. Laundromats! Haven't been in one of these for ohhhh 15 years? They have wifi now! A great office. :)

The hidden nuts and bolts of travel. Haven’t been in a laundromat for ohhhh 15 years? They have wifi now!

I don’t have a clear answer to this. We are transitioning from holding down the fort, as Colin Wright writes about. After seven years of hard work in Portland, we’ve laid a strong foundation of people, place and work to stretch from, to push some boundaries and explore for awhile.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps life just got too easy? In our 1st-world-problems life, a nice home became merely another thing to maintain, a big time-suck of a residence only to have a place to sleep at night. I feel like I know only what I experience, so time for a new challenge and changing horizons. Plus, we host people constantly at home, and now we’re coming to visit!

Crescent Beach on the Coastal Trail in Northern CA.

Crescent Beach on the Coastal Trail in Northern CA.

The counterpoint: exploring the Beginner’s Mind. Chelsea introduced me to this long ago and describes it as approaching everything as if experiencing it for the first time. Why am I not content waking up in the same place every day and just being, not doing.

As my mother, a Buddhist, likes to say, “Wherever you go, there you are.” I’m different every day based on experience from the day prior, so my relationship with my surroundings and the people around me is fresh and new. I recognize this “moving on” could just be running from something, yet I don’t have a grasp as to what that is, if anything. Is it just who I am, or a deeper sense of dissatisfaction I can’t pin down?

This post doesn’t aim to address THAT Pandora’s Box – that’s going to take some additional writing and thinking to sort out! I identify with Rita Golden Gelman in that I don’t feel like I’m running away, but rather toward something greater – adventure and discovery. Personal growth, at the very least.

My Beginner's Mind coach, my lovely wife.

My lovely wife.

One truth about me: I’m bored if I’m not learning, exploring, tweaking my systems, or pushing new limits. It’s just who I am. I reset my equilibrium quickly at whatever level of success I attain, so my happiness is often temporary. A challenge becomes routine with boredom leaching in. Time to “get on the cushion” to meditate, as my parents might say.

Whatever the reason, I’m living in 72 square feet because I can’t imagine living in 1,800 square feet. Or doing the same bike rides or runs that I’ve done 150 times prior over the (occasionally rainy) Portland winter. We have no children, our fantastic in-laws graciously are watching our cat (thanks guys!), Chelsea is freed from work and able to be our Ambassador of Fun, and my business allows me to roam while working remotely.

Now is the time to explore for so many reasons, and I feel like we have no excuse NOT to go somewhere. And as a cherry on top, it isn’t even hurting my current or  future business prospects in the way shutting everything down and disappearing for a long period of time would be. Though hanging out at the beach below without a cell phone sounds pretty nice…

Sunset at Haystack Rock on the Oregon Coast.

Roaming’s reward.

One thing I feel the Holding Down the Fort article doesn’t discuss is that there are phases to it. His view comes across as black and white – either you are Barracks Stormer or a Fort Defender – whereas I see periods where you can push boundaries in business, yet live in the same place, and vice verse. Opportunity to explore spiritually while business and physical location are the same probably fits in there too, though I don’t feel qualified to comment on that!

Black versus white.

Black and white.

Whether they are boundaries of borders and new places, or ways of doing business through a new lens, I’m certainly inspired to push limits and create. If we were all revamping systems at the same time, the world would be UTTER FREAKING CHAOS. We need people in different phases of their lives and careers bouncing back and forth between Fort Defender and Barracks Stormer. Right now, I’m in the latter phase for awhile, and I suspect that pendulum will take the long slicing sweep back the other direction eventually. But for now, I’m enjoying working next to an amazing bird watching marsh outside of Arcata in Northern California on this sunny, windy day.

View from the office window bird watching outside of Arcata.

Office for the day.

Here’s to deep, happy satisfaction wherever you are right now. I’m aiming to enjoy this moment, which soon will be a lunch break hike around the marsh watching coots and Northern Harriers duke it out in their Fort!

Lunch time birding watching in Arcata.

Creating vs. Consuming

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Symbiosis in Jedediah Smith State Park.

Symbiosis in Jedediah Smith State Park.

I spend my days consuming a lot of information. In the work zone, it’s emails and phone calls. In my business, creativity is often rewarded with frustrated clients, so I have a ton of systems to keep things the same for every person. Which works well, and keeps everyone happy since there are few surprises. But a life without surprises becomes monotonous and suddenly fresh and new is only waking you up when your forehead smacks the table as you nod off!

Books are important for me. Blogs, books, magazines – I take in a lot of writing from people I respect whose work inspires me to be a better person, or to push myself in directions I hadn’t considered. For example, I just finished Malcolm Gladwell’s latest booked entitled “David and Goliath”, with insights on how an underdog wins. Mr. Money Mustache helped refine my skills for dialing in finances, which  helped make this trip happen. Tim Ferriss of “The Four Hour Work Week” first helped spur me into being self-employed, and then to apply the Pareto Principle to my business practices to cut activities that weren’t producing results or enjoyment for me. Small tweaks in mentality that collectively allowed me to restructure compared to seven years ago when I was a fresh-eyed engineer sitting in a cubicle pondering my life, eyes crossed with spreadsheets and energy modeling software.

Sunset, redwoods style.

Sunset, redwoods style.

These days, I’m shifting. It’s time for me to start creating via writing and photography, both latent passions of mine I am rekindling. Time to unleash the accumulated knowledge inside me and share from a wellspring of coiled information. I’m unsure where it will lead, but my primary goal is to dissociate it from financial gain and focus on content that speaks to me. The time is right. We’re on this trip, which frees up energy otherwise spent elsewhere. Also, my business – finally dialed in enough to work remotely – is in a good place and I don’t wake up worried about work every day as I did in the past. Now it’s just worrying every few days – working for oneself surrrrre is fun!

This one's for Ryan and Hilary!

This one’s for Ryan and Hilary!

I’m flexing a muscle I haven’t used in a long time. Writing is like any other activity, physical or intellectual – use it or lose it – and my writing strength is currently the little twerp in weight lifting class benching only the bar. I suspect it will take some time to develop my voice, to refine my thoughts and not feel like, as Kurt Vonnegut said, “an armless, legless man with a crayon in my mouth every time I try to write.”

One hang up is the courage to truly speak my mind via the written word. It’s hard to write (or speak) that way, and doing so not knowing who will read it will take some time. Or perhaps knowing who will read it is tougher? Brene Brown calls this the “vulnerability hangover,” that feeling after you share something personal and then think, “Wow, what are people thinking about me now?” James Altucher is amazing inspiration for this – that guy puts his heart and soul into every post with more honesty than anyone else I read.

Blue sky far above in Jedediah Smith State park.

Blue sky far above in Jedediah Smith State park.

All to say that I’m looking forward to sharing our travels, and that this blog isn’t just about Traipsing About the earth. I’m looking forward to sharing the journey within the context of  our lives, wrapping in the past, goals for the future, and any fun or interesting ideas that bubble up along the way.

After two amazing days in Jedediah Smith State Park hiking among redwoods, I’m writing this from Gold Bluff Campground with the waves crashing in the background and a clear, star-studded sky. We sure are lucky with this weather for late November! Tomorrow, it’s Fern Canyon and Prairie Creek’s sampling of the redwoods.

Chelsea lounging in the upper deck.

Chelsea lounging in the upper deck while I type.

Cheerio from Northern CA,

Dakota

Watching the sunset over the Coastal Trail just south of Crescent City, CA.

Watching the sunset over the Coastal Trail just south of Crescent City, CA.

Taking It Slow

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Beach walk in Bandon.

Traveling is a rush. It’s easy to get wrapped up in “go go go.” I’ve done it, both internationally and in the U.S., almost every time I journey somewhere. Places to see, people to visit – onward! That doesn’t leave much room for clarity and introspection to occur, just a constant rush of food, new friends, and fresh experiences.

A big part of this trip is wanting to take things as they come, with as little agenda as possible. Rather than already being down in the redwoods as planned, we are still near Bandon, posted up in a cabin on a lake with the Milky Way stenciled brightly above and a roaring fire in the brick fireplace. There’s a canoe nestled up next to the dock, and a flock of geese that honks over the glassy water every morning. In short, it’s the reason we are out here exploring. The perfect place to knock out some work, go running, walk the beach and do some reading and writing by the fire.

Another day at the office.

Another day at the office. Pacing and talking on the phone with a client.

We’re here because Chelsea is the anti-plastic crusader in our little sphere and the aforementioned Washed Ashore project inspired us to contribute. We’re here because usually our lives push us ever-forward with little time for reflection, and the last few crazy months had zero breathing room. Nothing like watching the snapping flame of burning wood to recenter and breathe in, breathe out. I rarely carve out time to meditate, and this feels like where I need to be right now.

I know this won’t last forever, and that tomorrow morning the multitude of emails and phone calls I get every day will start rolling in. All part of the weekly work cycle. It’s the rhythmic waves on the beach at sunset and the sparkling stars that remind me why nature and embracing that feeling of “this is where I need to be right now” is so important.

I hope you’re able to disconnect here and there this week and enjoy the last few days of November before winter sets in. It’s hard to do, just like everything important and necessary. Time to slow down and enjoy a walk with family, or a talk with a good friend you’ve not spoken to in a long time. I’ve felt the positive energy from it already, and I bet you will too.

From our home away from home,

Dakota