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    • Delight Travels Well

      I want a life measured
      in first steps on foreign soils
      and deep breaths
      in brand new seas
      I want a life measured
      in Welcome Signs,
      each stamped
      with a different name,
      borders marked with metal and paint.
      Show me the streets
      that don’t know the music
      of my meandering feet,
      and I will play their song
      upon them.
      Perfume me please
      in the smells of far away,
      I will never wash my hair
      if it promises to stay.
      I want a life measured
      in the places I haven’t gone,
      short sleeps on long flights,
      strange voices teaching me
      new words to
      describe the dawn.
      — Tyler Knott Gregson, I Want a Life Measured

      Some people travel to feed some void within themselves that crossing borders and boarding planes promises to fill. Some people travel for a sense of accomplishment or one-upmanship that fills some other need they might have, keeping up with the Joneses or maybe even putting them in their place with bigger tales of adventure. Some simply love the thrill of discovery that can only come from climbing out of one’s own box and exploring something entirely new.

      The places we go transform us and linger in our minds for years to come like a quiet conversation with a romantic partner we knew once upon a time. We who travel are known to flirt with adventure, and adventure usually rolls her eyes at us having heard it all before. It’s just our turn on the dance floor, and tomorrow someone else’s. Does that mean we shouldn’t travel? Of course we should, but a little perspective and humility go a long way with the locals and those who follow along back home.

      Comparison is the death of joy, as my bride reminds me, and I’m at peace with the stage of life I’m in. We’ve arrived at a good place, she and I, a place where we don’t worry so much about the pace of filling our own bucket list and instead focus on living deliberately. When we travel we are thrilled by the experience, when we don’t we find beauty in the small corners of our existence we’ve been missing for want of attention. Discovery is an attitude, not a stamp in our passport. We may choose to delight in it all.

      How do we measure our lives? Just what are we keeping score of anyway? I’ve come to view the scorebook more narrowly, in the encounters and discoveries I’ve had today, whether near or far from home. When we make it our practice to find wonder in the smallest details of our days, we find that the world opens up for us more than ever. It turns out that delight travels well, and is at home wherever we are.

    • The Highest Possible Thing

      “It’s so silly in life not to pursue the highest possible thing you can imagine, even if you run the risk of losing it all. You can’t be an artist and be safe.” — Francis Ford Coppola

      To reach for something beyond our present capabilities is to risk something tangible, be it a hit to our reputation, our financial or physical wellbeing, or our precious time. It’s easier to just do what everyone wants of us, rather than to keep answering the same old questions about what we’re going to do with our lives. That question is so common that it auto-filled as I typed it.

      The thing is, we waste so much time just answering the damned question instead of simply pursuing the dream that most people never ship the work. Wait too long and that dream dies with us one day. Talk about losing it all…

      That voice of reason means well for us, but it thinks small. Nothing perfectly reasonable turns out to be great. Reasonable only leads to “fine”, as in, “How’s everything going for you, old friend?” Our confidant who once knew our secret dream back in the day asked. “Oh, it’s going fine.” We respond, and all that was lost but unsaid was revealed.

      When it comes time to put our highest aspirations ahead of the feeble excuses about time and commitments or the expectations of our tribe, we must train ourselves to forget reasonable. The biggest risk is wasting the present in the futile hope that tomorrow will be any different. There is no tomorrow, old friend: Take the bold route now.

    • Urgency Applies

      “The reason to finish is to start something new.” — Rick Rubin

      To finish what we started ought to be the goal for every project, but we know the truth isn’t so pretty. We bounce between projects, finishing some, but too often drag others along forever for want of attention. It’s all prioritization and focus, lest the forces conspiring against us wash over our lives and that project we were once so excited about gets flushed away like so many schemes and dreams. As with life itself, urgency applies to projects. Do it now.

      Starting something new is exciting. We dance with possibilities: discovering and enhancing and dancing with the light that shines through our eyes and lights up our work. Like a cold mountain stream, it’s invigorating and full of momentum. It’s only downstream, where things slow down and sometimes stagnate, where that project grows tedious. Momentum is everything, and we maintain it through focused attention. Deep channels flow relentlessly fast, shallow deltas slow and sometimes flow backwards with the whim of the tide.

      That new project ought to be a reward for having finished the previous project, not yet another distraction from it. Surely urgency applies to the things we wish to accomplish in this lifetime. We must finish what we’ve started, that we may begin again with the fresh perspective and skills developed from the last brought to the next.

    • The Only One

      “We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we have only one.” — Confucius

      Blame it on autumn, or maybe the series of life events I’m currently passing through, but it feels like life is starting over again. Every moment we’re fully alive offers that opportunity of course, but stack enough stuff on the scale and the balance tips enough. Enough for what? For whatever is next in this one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver so vividly put it.

      This is it, last time I checked, so let’s make the most of our time together. Double down on adventure, take calculated risks more frequently, do the “one day” bucket list things in this time bucket while we have the vitality to experience all it might offer. Defer deferral for a [real] change.

      So stop wasting time already! This is all we have left. Practice active savoring in this one and only dance through life. We can be co-conspirators while the rest of the world marches on thinking there will always be a tomorrow. Let’s not waste a second on such illusions. Seize what flees.

    • All the Nerve

      Oh, when you were young
      Did you question all the answers?
      Did you envy all the dancers
      Who had all the nerve?
      Look round you now
      You must go for what you wanted
      Look at all my friends who did and got what they deserved
      — Crosby, Stills & Nash, Wasted On the Way

      Early this morning far from home I turned the corner and my headlights spotlighted two coyotes who quickly scurried off into the woods. I had no business being right there at that moment, but for a series of events that brought me to that encounter. Just a guy putting himself in the way of beauty (thanks to Cheryl Strayed’s mom for the suggestion).

      We know the people who have all the nerve. They’re usually the ones who have few regrets in the end. To be bold is to break out of the boxes we framed around ourselves. We ought to make box-breaking a regular part of our routine. Really, it’s the only way. How else can we grow?

      Rising to meet the day

    • The Roll of the Peculiar

      “There’s a point, around the age of twenty, when you have to choose whether to be like everybody else the rest of your life, or to make a virtue of your peculiarities.” — Ursula K. Le Guin

      We finally begin to hit our stride when we ignore the expectations of the well-intentioned and follow our own path. For some of us it comes well after our formal education and those earnest early career moves. Momentum isn’t leaping off the cliff, it’s picking up pieces of our identity and adding them on, one after the other, like a snowball rolling down a mountain of fresh, sticky snow. Soon there’s no stopping us.

      The thing is, that momentum applies as much to the wrong slopes as it does the right one. Once we start rolling and picking up habits, stopping becomes very challenging indeed, let alone nudging ourselves over to another slope. We don’t always know which slope is our slope, but we often know which one is not for us. And we know we can’t wait forever to decide: we must eventually roll.

      Some snowballs appear as oddballs. So what? Does the world need yet another compliant commuter making their way to a job they hate? Who want to go through life wedged into a box like that? Find a place where it’s okay to roll the way you want to roll. That which makes us peculiar also makes us unique, and there’s always an audience for someone unique. What is more virtuous than a life spent growing into the purpose we were meant for?

    • Going From, Toward

      “A traveller! I love his title. A traveller is to be reverenced as such. His profession is the best symbol of our life. Going from —— toward ——; it is the history of every one of us. It takes but little distance to make the hills and even the meadows look blue to-day. That principle which gives the air an azure color is more abundant.”― Henry David Thoreau, The Journal, 1837-1861

      Any hiker is familiar with Thoreau’s description, so too any sailor. Those who venture out into the world are bound to find it. It takes but little distance to make where we’ve been take on a bluish hue. The same can be said for where we’re going, if we look far enough ahead anyway. Life is only abundantly clear when we live in the present. ’tis this day that we must seize.

      Just as Thoreau documented his life through his journal entries and the books he wrote, so we may document our own journey from, toward. These breadcrumbs show where we are as much as where we’ve been. The act of writing every day, then publishing a bit of it, has changed each of us that travel this path. The lingering question isn’t when we’ll stop writing, but why it took us so long to begin? So much of our pre-writing lives will remain entombed within us when we pass one day—isn’t that a pity? The world doesn’t need to know all the details, but there are some tasty breadcrumbs growing stale back there on the trail.

      It’s essential to ask ourselves where we’ve come from to bring us here. So too to look at where we’re going. The act of writing about such things is contemplative and enlightening, states the world ought to linger in more than it currently does. I often get caught up in the excitement of tomorrow, and were it not for the daily ritual of writing I might miss now altogether. Life isn’t meant to be shaded in blue, but lived forthwith—with all the immediacy and urgency that word conveys. What would we write about tomorrow that reflects where we’ve been today? Steer towards that.

    • Crossing Bridges

      “When one door closes, fortune will usually open another.” — Fernando de Rojas

      We may navigate the world either closed within ourselves or open to all the possibilities it offers. If I’ve found any truth in my own winding road of a career (let alone life), it’s that opportunities always open up if we ourselves are open to opportunity. We ought to remember that we’re all connected, and by nurturing our connections we may build a bridge to many potential versions of our next self. The trick isn’t to cross the right bridge, the trick is to not burn the one we just crossed.

      When is a bridge too far to cross? Is it switching industries? Jumping to a competitor? Moving to another country or across the one we’re in? Putting up a sign for a political candidate the polar opposite of the one the neighbors have in their yard? In this connected world, I don’t believe we ever really reach a bridge too far so long as we live with character and purpose.

      When a bridge collapses it’s usually a case of one or both sides skimping on maintenance. Never let a bridge rust away from neglect. It doesn’t take much to maintain a connection, and one day we may wish to cross that bridge again. We’re all connected, aren’t we? At least when we want to be.

    • Action is Identity

      “Creators create. Action is identity. You become what you do. You don’t need permission from anybody to call yourself a writer, entrepreneur, or musician. You just need to write, build a business, or make music. You’ve got to do the verb to be the noun.” ― Chase Jarvis, Creative Calling: Establish a Daily Practice, Infuse Your World with Meaning, and Succeed in Work + Life

      If action is identity, so too is inaction. What we say yes to and what we say no to are each a part of who we are. It’s inherently obvious, yet so easy to forget in the day-to-day demand for our time played to the soundtrack of the well-meaning who only want the best for us (thanks a bunch for that). We must pause a beat and get our bearings, then get back to the climb to our potential.

      If I could offer a bit of unsolicited advice to myself, to my children and anyone else paying attention, it’s to simply follow the call for as long as we can get away with it until we meet that person we envisioned. The only way forward is to do that thing. To write, to build, to make: action is our identity. It’s that vote for the person we wish to become that James Clear reminded us of.

      And so a bias towards action is the not-so-secret way to reach the promised land. Hitting the lottery is a fool’s game, hitting our stride by doing the things we know we need to do is how we live fully. We’ve been gifted with being born at a time and place where possibility flows. The people telling us that this is a time of scarcity are getting wealthy with words. There’s an audience for everything, even that thing that we’re telling ourselves to go be. Decide what to be and go be it, as the song goes.

      We ought to give ourselves a gift these last few months of the year. Do the creative work and put it out there for the world to see. Make a bold statement in who we will be today, and build on it in our following days should we blessed with enough of them. Tempus fugit: time flies. Do it now before it all slips away. If action is identity, just what will we think of ourselves if we don’t act now?

    • The Unexpected Guest

      Before you cross the street
      Take my hand
      Life is what happens to you
      While you’re busy making other plans
      — John Lennon, Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

      This year will go down as the year of falls in our family. There have been a lot of them, and each brings with it the siren call of life happening, no matter what our plans were a moment before. We must then be resilient, knowing the falls will come, knowing life is all curveballs and fickleness.

      The time to build resilience has already passed when life happens. We ought to be ahead of it as best we can, that we may persevere and grow from the fall instead of spiraling down the slippery slope. It all comes down to how easily we can pivot when those other plans drop in for an unexpected visit.

      We see the future in each stumble that our aging elders make. In the big scheme of things, we aren’t that far off from fragility ourselves. All we can do is defer it as far into our future as we can. Life will happen sooner than expected, it’s the bounce back that gets harder. Each day is our opportunity to build resiliency and flexibility into our lives, that we may one day receive the unexpected guest as prepared as one can be in such moments.