In praise of friction
Life's better with blisters.
What up, Traipser! Dakota here sending you a hearty welcome to Traipsing About, my newsletter about reclaiming creativity as an adult and ditching tired personal paradigms. No bots allowed—all drawings and bad puns are MINE, baby!
I’m back from a break from newslettering, a pause to refill the well with some old-fashioned Bend summer living. Days chock-full of camping trips, biking and hiking, swimming, eating berries from the garden, time with Chelsea and friends, lots of reading, and not enough piano.
Just what I needed—I’ve got a head full of great (IMO!) ideas that’ll hit your inbox in coming months. Fair warning.
Hot off the Traipsing About press this week:
In praise of friction
Hibernating for love
Thoughts on overtourism
In case you missed it: before my summer break, I wrote about selling our Sprinter van, a post I needed to write to feel closure on that important chapter of our life. So fun to revisit all the old adventures, and also to scheme fresh new ones with our truck and Airstream.
(For those who expressed concern, all of the old van posts are still around for reference. Except for the comments, which sadly were lost when I moved to Substack. Oh well…onward!)
In Praise of Friction
I want more friction in my life—not less.
Wait, whaaat? You want the WALL-E life?! Just hand me a sippy cup and a beach chair, brosef.
Um, no thanks. Plus I know you, wise Traipsing reader, wouldn’t ever say that either.
Because here’s the thing: friction gets a bad rap—but it’s often where meaning, growth, and connection happen. In a world obsessed with smooth, seamless efficiency, I’m here to argue for the value of (some) things being just a little harder.
As the wise Anthony De Mello writes,
"Happy events make life delightful but they do not lead to self-discovery and growth and freedom. That privilege is reserved to the things and persons and situations that cause us pain."
By the way, I’m not talking about the shitty friction like Bluetooth in the car inexplicably not syncing or going back to hand laundering my clothes. No way, I love modern conveniences—I’m keeping my iPhone!
Nope, I’m talking about friction as the obstacle enroute to a goal, the delayed gratification, the forced pause to make a considered move.
For me, friction creates a life filled with intention. More deliberate choices, not just being shepherded around by a digital overlord. More time with people and a stronger sense of community. More adventures and better stories. Steering the ship like a badass pirate, not stuck below deck wondering where it’s headed.
So for the next handful of Traipsing newsletters, I’m diving into this idea—with a short essay each week. Let’s start with how…
Friction builds character
The struggle and the time—ahem, friction—spent learning or doing anything makes it meaningful. It’s where we develop perseverance, confidence, and resilience. It’s how we avoid blowing away like a beach ball in the wind anytime things get hard.
Think about it: what skill or experience you’re proud of came easily?
Do people who inherit money brag about it? Nope. Anyone who boasts about the gleaming Mercedes their daddy gave them is basically broadcasting, I’ve never done anything hard in my life. (Cya, sucka!)
Same goes for compliments. “Wow, I love your landscaping” hits differently than “You have lovely eyes.” Why? Because one took effort; the other was received. (Thanks, Mom and Dad—I love my eyeball Mercedes!)
For me, if music skills or languages were simply downloaded into my brain and fingers, the satisfaction levels would be zilch, nulla, nada. I've earned the ability to create music from 88 black and white keys or speak Italian through difficult, delicious effort. The process and journey is a huge chunk of the reason it matters.
Compare that to AI, which can crank out a song, painting, or piece of writing in the time it took me to write this sentence.
Our superpower as humans is that we actually get experience the world—in all its glorious friction. To be surprised by things, to feel joy, to dive deep into a new skill without needing to know why.
In fact, the great Russian novelist Tolstoy wrote about this necessary striving in Anna Karenina and War and Peace, where characters find fulfillment not in luxury or power, but in humble effort, relationships, and moral development. Science fiction writer Isaac Asimov has similar themes in his amazing Foundation series—he believed that human progress—through science, reason, and curiosity—is inherently meaningful.
I’d argue this is why people don’t give a ferret’s fart about AI music or books. No friction, no effort or sweat behind it. Just content (ugh). No wonder people recently raged at Spotify for promoting AI band The Velvet Sundown, which fronted as flesh and blood musicians.
In short, friction is the burning feeling in our brains when we're making connections, creating, building something of value. It’s a core part of being human.
And to that, I yell from the Traipsing About rooftop: Gimme more!
Next newsletter: friction as an intention focuser.
Hibernating at 60
Recently businessman/venture capitalist Brad Feld wrote on his excellent blog about “turning into a pumpkin” on Halloween, his 60th birthday. For him, that means going back into hibernation after a stint of public-facing activity to promote a new book. I love his take on how he’s approaching it:
I have no idea how long that hibernation will last, or if it will be permanent. While I reflect on the past three months of being out of hibernation, a lot of things I’ve been doing are in the “like” category, but none of them make the “love” category, which now is only four things (spending time with Amy and close friends, reading, writing (non-fiction, fiction, and code), and running/hiking).
My goal is to continue to shift more of my time to the love category, fulfill my work commitments, all while embracing the third third of life as I wander into my 60s.
Seeing someone like Brad laser focus inspires me to ditch my likes and focus on the loves. What’s cool is that he’s not checking out—he’s doubling down on the value and wisdom of prioritizing those closest to him and his most impactful, life-affirming activities.
A different way to travel
I loved this essay by Craig Mod about overtourism in Japan—and everywhere.
This section was the perfect description of how I want to travel. It encapsulates why I dig bike touring and am learning languages:
These [Best of Class tourists] are folks that buoy the chest, elevate the soul (like witnessing a person stand on an escalator and just stare into the distance, refusing the Siren call of their smartphone).
I don’t know if there’s some Platonic or deontic mode of travel, but in my opinion, the most rewarding point of travelling is: to sit with, and spend time with The Other (even if the place / people aren’t all that different).
To go off the beaten track a bit, just a bit, to challenge yourself, to find a nook of quietude, and to try to take home some goodness (a feeling, a moment) you might observe off in the wilds of Iwate or Aomori. That little bundle of goodness, filtered through your own cultural ideals — that’s good globalism at work.
With an ultimate goal of doing all this without imposing on or overloading the locals. To being an additive part of the economy (financially and culturally), to commingling with regulars without displacing them.
Put this Traipsing About newsletter up on blocks, because it’s out of gas.
Something to ponder: Is there an area of your life where adding friction might improve things for you?
Onward,
Dakota
P.S. A great YouTube short on the bad friction in tech.
Thanks for reading Traipsing About! I appreciate your time and attention in a world where it’s a precious commodity. If you’ve got a minute, hit reply and let me know what your favorite city or area in Europe is…cuz I’m scheming, yo!
Ditching likes for loves. Yes!!!