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Category: Living Well

The Noise of Paradise

The 50k run I completed last week was composed of four laps in and around Burning Man city.

The absolute hardest moment of the run happened when I was completing my third lap.

Just as I turned the corner and the checkpoint/finish line came into sight, I saw a group of around 50+ people celebrating, cheering, and lounging after having completed the run.

…They finished an entire lap ahead of me.

…And I had an entire lap to go.

…As in I had to deliberately choose to go back out into the heat, windstorms, and longgggg stretches of uninhabited desert WITH the agony of already wrecked ankles and knees when what was right in front of me looked nothing short of paradise.

…I seriously considered stopping.

….I seriously questioned my life decisions.

…I seriously wanted nothing more than to collapse and complain and lounge.

…But, something inside me told me to just keep moving.

To slowly, slowly, move away from that finish line—my checkpoint—and let the noise of paradise fade into the background… until it subtilely disappeared.

And not long thereafter, it did.

…And I was back in it.

…Undistracted by the sounds of other people’s victories and the visions of other people’s reward. I no longer had other people’s voices in my head nor did I have their relieved faces in my sight. I was free from the temptations of comfort that were trying to pull me more and more forcibly back towards its favorite zone.

…And I was running my own race again.

This was the key decision—the crux point—that got me through.

This was the moment I actually finished the race.

Pressing Firmly Into The Earth

We find our way forward by moving forward—not by standing still.

It’s tempting to want to chart out the entire journey before beginning—to minimize the surprises and unknowns. And to a certain extent, thorough planning can be quite helpful. But, at the other end of the spectrum, too much can be a handicap.

The reality we must accept with moving into the unknown (the future), is that there are going to be unknowns—things you couldn’t possibly have planned for by staring at the drawing board. And so we plan and prepare for a “good enough” amount of time—no more—and then we venture forth.

I aim to spend 30-60 minutes thinking carefully each day about my path and my trajectory (this blog). And the rest of the time, I try and spend walking, playing, teaching, training, trying, failing, doing, creating, interacting, producing, shipping, reading, experimenting, etc—pressing my boots firmly into the erasing nature of the earth.

Because it’s much easier to figure out which way to go when you can look back at where you’ve come from—and can utilize all of the info that accompanies that history. Moving forward from a singular point—with no past trajectory—makes forward exponentially harder to figure out.

My questions for you are: How much time to you spend thinking vs acting? Do you like this ratio? What might your ideal ratio be and what adjustments can you make to get there?

An Unintentional Legacy

What does what you’ve posted publicly online say about you?

Imagine for a second that all of your social media posts and comments from all of your accounts, all of your websites, all of your blogs, etc… were neatly laid out in front of me in a multi-tabbed browser. No time for curating either—everything that’s public right now is what would be opened for me to review.

Does the thought of that make you feel proud or cringe? Do you think it would be a fairly accurate representation of you or not so much? Do you think this profiling would match what I would say about you if we spent a few hours in conversation in person together?

Here’s the thing…

A big part of your legacy will be what’s left publicly online. It’s where so many of us spent so much of our time. It’s where so many of your loved ones keep in touch with you and your life’s story.

…And it’s where so many of us will go to remember you.

If you’re not careful, you might end up leaving behind an unintentional legacy. One that makes you cringe or feel superficial or one that just plain misrepresents the “real” you. And not because what you shared didn’t authentically come from you, but because it was shared unintentionally with other people in mind—and became tainted.

This is your reminder to be mindful with how you use your public tools.

Everything you do contributes to the overall picture that ultimately becomes your life’s legacy. To think otherwise might lead to patches in your picture that feel out of place and that you ultimately regret.

Sub 100%

Another day I rise… another day I didn’t want to exercise.

My body was sore, my eyes were heavy, and my energy levels were low.

And yet, today was another day when I exercised anyway.

How?

I gave myself permission to workout at sub 100%.

I showed up sore, heavy, and low. Gave myself an extended warm-up and mobility session. Took a mile and a half jog at my ~50% pace. Then, spent 30ish minutes deep stretching.

And now I feel great.

Being sore, heavy, and low aren’t excuses to skip top priority tasks—they’re reasons to adjust your pace so you can keep your top priority tasks at the top.

Remember: consistency over intensity every day of the week.

Petting Mushrooms

…Oh, and one more thing I noticed from the kid I wrote about yesterday.

After our final interaction and after having walked a few sidewalk blocks away, I glanced back over my shoulder and saw him squatted in his front lawn petting a mushroom.

It was so small that his tiny, three year old hand could have held and crushed five or six of them together with ease.

But, there he was—petting that baby mushroom and giving it a level of undivided attention and care that I’m only used to giving my highest level tasks.

And if I’m being honest, while I was on that walk, I’m pretty sure what I spent most of my time thinking about was my highest level tasks. I didn’t notice the mushroom or the million other present-moment miracles on my path because I wasn’t all the way there.

I was somewhere else. As is often the case with so many of us in life.

Will petting mushrooms add a ton of value to my life?

…That’s the wrong question.

How can I get myself into a space where I’m able to notice, with full present awareness, what’s right in front of my eyes—like that three year old child?

Now that’s a question worth chewing on.


P.s. I’m going back to Burning Man this year! If any of you lovely readers will be, too, shoot me a reply! I’d love to try an arrange some meetups.

Curiosity and Response

There’s a little boy who lives down the street from me, 3 years old maybe, who runs up to me every time I walk my dog past his house.

“Hi” he’ll yell excitedly as he runs up to us—carefully staying outside the range of the leash as he’s still apprehensive of my dog.

“What are you doing? What’s your dog’s name? Where are you going?”

Are the three questions he asks in quick succession each time.

“Walking my dog. Stella. Back towards home.”

Is how I’ll quickly reply.

He’s always just as excited to find out as he was the last time he asked.

What I love about this little boy—and with many kids at this age—is that magical mix of courage and curiosity.

There is zero hesitation in his excited yell. There is no gap between his curiosity and his response. And there’s no self-consciousness or self-limiting beliefs that keep him reserved and quiet as a spectator in the background.

How… I wondered to myself as Stella and I continued home… do I unlearn my way back to such a pure and valuable state?

How… I wonder now as I write this for you to read… can we unlearn our way back to such a pure and valuable state as a society?


P.s. In case you missed it, you can read the best of what I posted to MoveMe Quotes last week, here.

On Doing “Good”

One of my martial arts students pulled me aside the other day, with an upcoming tournament on his mind, and told me his main motivation to compete comes from the idea of inspiring his son—who also trains martial arts.

He told me he wanted his son to see him do “good” so that he’d be inspired to do good, too.

I asked him what doing “good” meant to him.

He said, “winning.”

I asked him if winning was what was most important to him when it came to his son’s performance… because I could put him with a group of white belts if that’s what he wanted (he’s a red belt).

He thought about it for a minute and said, “No.”

He then described how he would want his son to show courage, have fun, try his best, demonstrate good sportsmanship, and use the experiences from the tournament as fuel for his future training.

I told him that if that’s what he wanted his son to prioritize… the best thing he can do is prioritize those same things, too.


P.s. If you’d like to read along, I’m going to start uploading quotes from Think Like A Monk by Jay Shetty to MoveMe Quotes in the upcoming weeks.