Living Together

Gosh there’s a lot of uncertainty out in the world. I get the New York Times “The Morning” Newsletter delivered to my work inbox every morning, and today I focused on how I felt while reading it. Even being largely apathetic, I could still feel a rise in tension, a slight constriction in my chest as I skimmed through the news. Catherine Price urges a focus on what’s controllable. I certainly can’t control the rhetoric, the half-baked policy announcements, or politicians’ behaviors. (It’s almost as if I shouldn’t subscribe to that newsletter.)

I can control my consumption, as hard as it may seem. And the thing is, people will tell you anything that’s truly newsworthy. The news purports to bring critical, impactful information. But I only experience consequences in my mental wellbeing. Instead of reacting to bumbling political leadership, I choose to contribute on my own terms, by providing my own vision for our one world. Let me expound.

We live on a beautiful planet full of wonder. We share this planet. We also share the consequences of our actions together. There is no second home for us to go to.

We all want the same things, health, love and time. Our similarities far outweigh our differences. On the grand scale of time and space of the universe, this is an absolute miracle. It’s a miracle we are here together, sharing this existence, at this exact point in time, on this one small planet in the vast cosmos. Recognizing we occupy this singular point of time and space together, we can choose: how will we live? We each hold the power of agency, immutable by anyone or anything else in the universe. How will we choose to shape the fabric of spacetime? How will we live?

It’s kind of like living with dogs. You hopefully enjoy 12 years with your dog. You try to give them a good life, and you make the most of your time together. But you also know they don’t live as long (as us), and you only have so long with them. You don’t focus on that, you just enjoy the time. But you understand it. It’s the same for all of us here on this planet, the timescale is just different. We’re only here together for 70 or 80 years, give or take. We have some overlap with the previous and next generations, but basically we all have a century or so together to live and love and laugh and dance.

How will we live?

Dumpster Huh

When I arrive at the dumpster near my building, I now say “huh” aloud. This word is my new experiment for practicing non-reaction. Whenever I get frustrated or stressed or angry, I force myself to pause and say ‘huh,’ which is just an interjection: a reaction word. It buys me a few more seconds of processing time, enabling me (sometimes) to stay calm.

So now when I get to the dumpster and inevitably find recycling in the trash or boxes haphazardly strewn across the enclosure, I get to decide how I want to react. Uttering a nonchalant “huh” grants me the opportunity to choose. Do I want to get angry and allow my neighbors’ carelessness to negatively affect my mood for the next 30 minutes? Or do I want to let it go?

The same can be used when navigating traffic, deescalating with my partner, or processing directives at work. Our reactions are solely ours. We always get to choose. “Huh” reminds me treasure this most important fact of life.

The Why of Writing

I was walking back to my desk when it hit me: writing is integral to my wellbeing. Looking back at each day’s end, I am always happier, always more fulfilled, on the days I write something. When I know deep down that I exerted earnest effort to writing something, I feel satisfied and proud. It's a worthwhile day, even if it isn’t necessarily my best day. When I write, even if I don’t publish, I have accomplished something. Writing is for the writer, not the reader. 

If I don't write, I feel languished and emaciated. I feel like I’ve stolen from the world, only consuming what is provided to me without contributing. It’s a terrible feeling to not create something, to not produce something. It feels like I haven’t released what’s inside of me.

Writing is thinking. It trains your mind how to organize its thoughts coherently, logically, and persuasively.

Writing is creation. It’s an outlet for your mind and soul to discover meaning. Even the most average writing is an act of creation—our natural, highest purpose.

Because writing is one of the most important things I do each day, I should "eat the frog first thing in the morning," as writing is often a frog, and often the biggest frog of all (credit to Mr. Twain). For writing can be agony, if you don’t begin decisively. You can sit in front of your computer and bemoan your lack of ideas, your boringness, your pent-up energy. It can be excruciating to get the words out, to fall into that rhythm all writers covet. But finding flow is the training for the thinking and ordering of thoughts, coherently and logically. It is the persuasion configuring. It's not easy to think sometimes. It's not fun to organize the jumbled notions and emotions in your head. Turning them about and fitting them together and producing them on the page is the necessary starting point that forces us to grow.

And all of a sudden, that tension disappears without your noticing. It’s bliss. You're speeding along, line after line, producing free flowing thoughts straight from your soul, and they magically and magnificently appear on the page. The page becomes your world. You have no other vision, and all other senses cease to function. You hear no distraction, you don't feel the keys click beneath your fingers. You are in the writing world, for as long as the muse decides to channel your mind and body in the act of creation. After it has ravaged your being, you still somehow feel satisfied.

For writing is therapeutic. It cleans the mind and cleanses the soul. This is why journaling is such a powerful exercise recommended by so many people, writers or not. When we purge our emotions onto paper, they no longer occupy and cloud our brains. A long session may leave you tired, but all negativity is expelled, leaving only content.

So I write every day. To (hopefully) contribute to the universe and a better world, yes. But also selfishly. For me. For my sanity. For my soul.

Upon reaching my desk, I felt relief. I began to write.

Today I’ve done my writing. It is a good day.

Space and Purpose

I recently read this ESPN piece about Suni Williams, one of the astronauts still aboard the ISS and it made me think and feel. I guess I can add another 'easy' thing to be grateful for: "I'm not stuck in a metal tube the size of a football field for 8 months." That one should be as retrievable as "I'm not paralyzed--I can walk" and "I get to work from home today." This astronaut's experience is undoubtedly unfathomable to me, an ordinary person who has never experienced space—just as unfathomable as life's transformation upon having children, or going to war. There are one-way experiential doors in this life, and it's impossible to fully understand what's on the other side of those doors without crossing through. Visiting space, and more-so being stuck there unexpectedly, is one of those doorways.

Time, mortality, meaning and purpose

I wrote a bucket list of sorts back in January upon Chris Guillebeau's urging. "Go to space" was one of the long-shot things I wrote down. It's supposed to transcend our imagination—the weightlessness, the visuals of the Earth from above, the recognition of home. I wrote a short story about this back in August. The thought of being in space has always captivated me. In fact, the very first real story I ever wrote back was about space, back when I was in 2nd grade. It was full of space battles with aliens in the far-off future, featuring all kinds of cool vehicles like "Cyber Motorcycles." (I remember being so proud that I had "written 14 pages.") For almost 37 years I've thought about space. The ESPN piece only deepened my wonder.

How ironic would it be if experiencing the wonder of space is what enables us to see the wonder of our world. Astronauts have famously described the overview effect, yet less than 700 people have had the chance to experience it. Physically removing ourselves from the oneness of Earth seemingly strengthens our understanding of its necessity, our connection to our home. When you see pictures of the Earth from space, you automatically see the big picture, understanding, even if just for a moment, how minuscule we are within just our solar system.

In the ESPN article Oliver Burkeman comments:

"Culturally, we tend to have this definition of doing something meaningful that implies affecting a large number of people, or being remembered for years and years and years. And that's a really quite cruel ... definition of meaning to put on ourselves, because it almost means that, by definition, most of us can't have meaningful lives, right? Cause most of us can't be the most famous person in a generation, and most of us can't make the most important invention of the generation, or whatever. And so I think ... maybe what we're really looking for is just a feeling of being alive rather than a meaning ... That's the thing that we can navigate by, instead of this kind of very grandiose idea of, 'Is civilization going to be grateful to me a millennium from now?'"

How can we find meaning when we recognize how apparently insignificant we are?

It's a hard question to answer, but I have some thoughts. I think we're simply here to live. Life happened on our planet, and it evolved to the point we're at now—monkeys primitively exploring beyond our planet's atmosphere. That's us. Perhaps there's no rhyme or reason for our existence beyond the fact that we just are. We're alive, and so our purpose is to live, wholly and wildly and freely. I also have some intuitive inkling that I've started to fulfill one of my purposes: I have created offspring. My wife and I have created a child, and she will go on, god willing, to live a long full life. It's not really about me, it's about passing on the flame of consciousness, the chance to experience, to simply "the next." I love my daughter so completely, something about this resonates deeply with me, and it feels right in my bones. In some ways, my purpose was just to create and raise her.

We get so caught up in our day to day lives, the results of last quarter and the traffic and the outrageous things our politicians say, that we forget this big picture. It's easily obscured, because it's not loud and flamboyant. It's the quiet truth that so easily gets crowded out by the noisy world society has created. But our meaning and purpose is inescapable. It can never be lost or destroyed. We exist, and if we revert back to the big picture, there remains our purpose. Space helps us see it clearly.

The Filter of War

I have never been to war, and I hope I never go. But different doesn’t have to be disconnected.

I often write we are more similar than we are different. That we all want the same things, and that we all share this one world together. I know and believe these things to be true, but that doesn’t mean we will always see eye to eye. Sometimes we will have asymmetrical perspectives. But we still need to be able to exchange information and work together.

When I hear former military members speak about their experiences, it’s clear I will never fully understand their perspective. I have not repeatedly witnessed atrocities in a foreign place, I have not operated within a might-is-right environment, and I have not suffered warfare trauma. I have never been to war. I am grateful for this, and although I struggle with America’s history of foreign policy, I am grateful for all who have served our country, to protect and spare me and millions of others.

It’s also clear war changes you, acting as a great filter which you can only pass through once, in one direction. While I may never truly understand the perspective of someone who has served, a former operator also cannot return to my lay perspective. They’ve seen too much; they are forever changed by the warfare they experienced. Former military members often speak about their perspectives being forever changed, that they can’t see the world in any other way because of what they have seen.

So are we at an impasse? I will never truly grasp a war survivor’s perspective, and they can never return to my privileged, nonviolent perspective. Are we doomed to perpetual disagreement? 

I don’t believe so. We don’t have to be alike to coexist. Our diversity strengthens our species. Difference in perspective should not mean we can’t be friends or formulate public policy together. We can debate the best direction for our country, and we can live harmoniously. We just need to understand the distance between our experiences and thus our perspectives. We need to seek first to understand, then to be understood. Diversity of thought increases our decision making ability as a species. And, if we let it, maybe we’ll inhabit a world free from war.

See the Wonder

There's that Deepak Chopra quote about being happy for no reason, like a child. Just taking in the daily miracles that surround us.

After talking with a coworker yesterday, I tried to emulate what his four month old daughter does: embrace the fascination outside when driving. On my morning commute I did just that, taking in all the trees and buildings. Some of the trees had flowers, and I thought "how wonderful is it that some trees are flowering in January; what a beautiful drive." I saw a house with a cool balcony and realized someone designed that, someone built it, and that's just really cool. We have so many cool structures today, and it's so easy to simply pass by them without noticing.

In The Happiness Advantage Shawn Achor talks about the "Tetris effect," of noticing small things that make us happy and focusing on all the positives. He gives the example of two coworkers on a coffee break outside, with one saying "it's so nice the sun is out today" and the other remarking "it's too hot today." Both were true, but the two individuals had completely different perspectives about it.

We can all adopt this paradigm. We can all choose to see wonder. It's constantly all around us. It's kind of amazing how giddy you feel when you let it sink in, when you truly appreciate the magnificence in such "mundane" things we ordinarily take for granted. The rich smell of coffee in the coffee shop I visited this morning. The crisp cool air of winter. The quick smile I received from a passing stranger. These are all miracles from just this morning. How lucky I am to be alive and experience them.

We have the ability to chose what we see. Choose to see the wonder.

Interested in a “See the Wonder” t-shirt? Send a note to hey@trevorallenvision.com

This is a Miracle

Einstein supposedly once said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” I'm not convinced of the dichotomy, but I do believe there is great power in seeing the miraculousness of our existence. And anyone can do this; rich or poor, old or young, any adherer of any culture or religion, the talentless or the genius; we can all embrace the wild reality of our existence.

I once wrote a simple sign in sharpie on a piece of plain paper, and hung it on my bedroom wall:

This

is

a Miracle

It helps remind me to disengage from the tide of business in everyday life and reframe my thoughts and feelings.

Sometimes late at night I obtain this epiphany about this ride we're on. That I will die some day, that my loved ones will die, and that we won't be together forever. I reflect on how precious that makes our time together. We choose to be in each other's lives, and we try to make the most meaning, the most love, that we can. We optimize our experience together. But one day, it will all end.

Just that is a miracle. That we get to be alive together, in this moment. That we live on a shifting tectonic plate on the surface of a rock with a molten core, spinning around a huge nuclear reactor 90 million miles away. That we get to exist together in this apparently circumstantial set of surroundings, within the great void of the universe. It's truly bonkers when you pause and consider it.

Not only that, but we are not "separate" from it all, as if just plopped down from some outside space We are a part of the universe, as Eckhart Tolle explains: "You are not IN the universe, you ARE the universe, an intrinsic part of it. Ultimately you are not a person, but a focal point where the universe is becoming conscious of itself. What an amazing miracle."

I believe if we harbor this awareness in the forefront of our everyday lives, it will radically transform how we live and how we treat each other. Every single human being on the planet can adopt this perspective and strive to embody it within their community. All of us enjoy the privilege of being alive in this moment together, on this fantastical world, in the incredible year of 2025.

This is the start of global consciousness, the recognition of our shared circumstances. And because this particular existence is unescapable, it has the power to unite us as one planet, one species. We all get to share this miracle together. Should this not inspire change?

On a Miraculous Ride, Truly Fully Deeply

What does it mean to live a meaningful life?

Recently I randomly thought, “I see my life as some kind of ride, and I don’t know where it’s going, but it’s meaningful.” I don’t know if it’s because I'm having a baby soon and understand it will change my life forever, or if it's because I’ve reached an old enough age in which so many important people are gone from my life, or if it’s simply because it’s a new year and I’ve been reflecting on my life, but I've been thinking a lot about love and meaning and reality.

I view life a certain way, as a miraculous ride, and it's really the impetus for TAV. We are all equal in so many ways. None of us know what’s in store for us. None of us know how long we’ll live, or what will become of our lives, or even what will happen tomorrow. We all rise each morning and go live. This is a universal human condition that cannot be undone. Our prophecies about AI and nuclear power and extraterrestrial colonization cannot change the fact that none of us know the future. Which is another way to say, we are all in the present moment together. Those who are awake at the same time are sharing something real, something powerful, the only thing that exists.

The Bay Bridge on a January morning

You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with, said Jim Rohn. Some people settle for relationships in life. They settle for a good enough partner, or stay friends simply because it's been that way. Not me. I truly and deeply love my tribe. Because we only have the present afforded to us, it doesn’t make any other sense than to love fully, and surround yourself, design your life, with those you love. I hope that’s said at my funeral—that I loved truly fully deeply. I’m far from perfect in most areas of my life, but I feel confident I’ve got love right. Your family is your family; you’re never given another one. And your partner, if you believe in monogamy and buy into our cultural institutions of love and marriage, is the most important decision you make in life. When you love them truly fully deeply, with every fiber in your being, with every cell in your body, as I do, your perspective becomes scaled. Love becomes just as important as any other factor, including your time and your health.

Another consideration is calling, sometimes put as purpose. I believe it’s possible to live one’s life with deep conviction of purpose, with supreme confidence that the actions one takes are the right actions, the most impactful actions possible from that individual. When someone repeatedly fulfills this purpose, day after day, it creates meaning. Time becomes your ultimate commodity, dwarfing money, because time is the only currency with which to pursue purpose. I'm not fully there yet, but I’m well on my way, and TAV is my vehicle.

Onward

At some point, usually fairly early in life, everyone realizes they will die. They understand that this, the present, is not permanent, and that it will end sometime in the future. This reckoning is a demarcation point. From that moment onward, we have an expanded perspective for the rest of our lives. We understand we have to choose, that we get to choose, what to make of our time and our energy. We have the agency to determine what to pursue with our remaining breaths, for one day, we will have our last breath.

How we move forward after this reckoning is what defines us as human beings. We can live with love, we can live with purpose… or we can live in fear. No one can make this choice for us; all eight billion of us have to decide for ourselves. Will we live with earnest? Will we wilt beneath the finality of it all? Will we truly value our time "here?"

Once you recognize it’s solely up to you to create your own meaning, you then have a second choice. Do you live alone, or with love? The secret: none of us really wants to be alone. We all want to share our experiences with someone. We all want to maintain the flame of consciousness with others when faced with the dark void just beyond the light.

Music, motion and companionship can all help deepen our sense of the present. Some exercises that can help kindle our sense of wonder and meaning:

1. Choose a few songs you love. Listen to them in silence, without distraction, and feel them. Let them stir your sense of meaning and conviction.

2. Go on a short walk alone, without your phone, preferably in nature. Walk in silence and listen to the Earth.

3. Sit with your partner and look into their eyes for 3 minutes without speaking. Welcome the feelings that arise and cherish any increased understanding.

I recognize I don’t know much. But I do know this is a wild ride, an unknowable journey that can only be written by us. Can we write it together?

Adventure Lens

It’s that lead up period to the holidays and the end of the year. In the US, Christmas is entrenched as a cultural holiday, regardless of one's relationship to religion. Most families have traditions they partake in every year. We cut down our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, have a friends holiday party, enjoy a fondue night at my parents' house, and then have the typical get togethers on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

It’s kind of wild how much of December is dedicated to Christmas—it's one twelfth of our year. You see Christmas movies on all the streaming services, the radio plays holiday songs, and families everywhere are embracing their Christmas traditions. It dominates everything, especially when there are children in your life. It's almost as if the Christmas cheer keeps everyone warm and hopeful through the darkest month of the year, when there's little sun or warmth. And this is coming from a Californian; I can't imagine what the winters are like in the northern states, year after year.

Christmas tree farm above Black Road earlier this month

And this is my last Christmas without children. My wife and I have been relishing our alone time together. We had a lazy morning this past weekend, and I told her it was one of the last times we'd be able to do that for a long time. It's a weird feeling, anticipating your tribe growing. My wife is the most important person in my life, and yet I know we’ll soon be adding someone just as important. It's also reinforced that notion you hear: “your partner is the only one who truly loves you. Your parents love you because you're their child, you love your family because you were born with them, but you love your partner for who they are and you choose them.” And now we've chosen to start a family. This pregnancy has been a time of transition. It's weird. I know there's significant change to come.

I've journaled about big change before. When a big change comes, there's only so much you can do to prepare for it. Mostly, you simply have to react to the unknown when it happens—your anticipation is limited because, well, it's unknown. I thought about this often growing up when it came to big graduations. When I knew college was looming, I tried to enjoy the end of high school. I was familiar with my friends and teachers and environment, and although I had chosen my college, had visited it, I knew it would be completely different than all I knew up to that point. I had no friends at my new school. It was in a different city. I would be studying completely new subjects, living away from home for the first time. I was eager to play football, but I knew the standards were elevating, in sports and my studies. It was a new level.

Similarly, when I was leaving college, I figured my time in school was over; I didn't have plans to attend graduate school. So it was out into the 'real world' for the first time. I didn't know what industry I would work in or what kind of job I would have (courtesy of a liberal arts education and choosing to major in Sociology, which does have its perks, but this one large drawback). I knew I was walking through another door, and that it would be another world on the other side. I also knew I could never go back.

American desert outside Las Vegas

I felt similar anticipation when I moved abroad, first to South Africa, then to China. Both times, I knew my environment would be completely different. I went to South Africa with a friend, and I had visited there the year before, but I also knew living in Africa would be completely different than visiting for 5 days. We lived in a hostel for the first month, then moved into a house with a bunch of roommates after we finished our teaching program. After getting accustomed to Cape Town, I decided to move to China. This was a big leap—I had never been to Asia before and knew no one on the entire continent. I didn’t speak a lick of Chinese. I definitely looked over a precipice on my flights to Beijing.

Our coming child feels somewhat similar. We are both excited, don't get me wrong, but I also recognize this might be the most significant change I'll ever encounter in my life. Once our family grows, it will no longer be about just us. I will forever think about my child. When I wake up each morning and go to sleep each night, my child will likely be the first and last things I'll think about. I will forever be concerned with their well being for the rest of my life. This isn't a bad or scary thing per se, but it is a significant change. Perhaps I'm showing my naiveté here—I wouldn't know. The point is it's a new adventure awaiting us.

I think that's an important lens to use in life. Even something as 'standard' as starting/raising a family, which billions of others do, can be considered an adventure. Life can seem mundane if you let it. That’s how our brain works. It's up to us to “step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure” (as Dumbledore puts it).

Well, I cannot wait for the one before me. My life will change forever. I approach the unknown. And I'm eagerly stepping forward, in the long cold nights of December, to embrace the adventure.

TAV and AI

This post is inspired by Derek Siver's AI page, which he credits to Damola Morenikeji

I believe AI can contribute to creative work, but not replace it. Even if/when AI surpasses human capabilities, I will still create art through TAV. I pursue writing and photography and podcasting because of how it makes me feel, and because it's my way to contribute to the universe.

As of November 2024:

I do use AI in my creative workflows. Like spell check for writing, my tripod for photography, or my microphone for podcasts, AI is a tool to be leveraged when creating something new, something that is my own. Anyone could use spellcheck or my tripod or microphone to write, photograph or talk—but it wouldn't be my work.

How I use AI for my writing

Every piece of writing on this site is my own. I do not use AI to write copy.

I do use AI to help me research. I will often feed questions to Claude or ChatGPT instead of Google, because the results seem to be better. In this way, LLM's serve as basic search engines and databases.

I use AI to critique my writing, much as I would ask my seventh grade English teacher to evaluate my work. Here’s the prompt I often use:

“You are a blog critic and expert writer. Review this writing so you can help me make it better. Frist summarize the piece into a few bullet points. Then critique the piece, telling me what the piece does well and how it can be improved. Provide counterarguments to the main points."

Sometimes when I've finished a first-round free write and need help formalizing my idea, I'll use some variation of:

"Help me take all this writing to create a blog post. Include an outline of what the blog post should look like based on this initial writing.”

I have occasionally used AI to write meta descriptions for individual blog post pages, and I see this as an LLM helping a database categorize content on the internet.

How I use AI for my photography

Every photograph on this site is my own. I do not use AI to generate or significantly alter images.

I primarily use Adobe Lightroom to edit my photography. This platform has many AI features, and I regularly use “Presets” and “Erase.”

When I use AI to fine-tune an image, I seek to best represent what I see and experience when taking the photo. I might alleviate a whitewashed sky or erase a minor obtrusive feature of a photograph—but I do not intentionally embellish colors or erase prominent features.

I always strive to polish my images so they resemble the scene I witnessed while shooting. Any editing is meant to clarify the reality I experienced, not to embellish or create one.

How I use AI for podcasting

I use AI to create transcripts of recordings. I always review the transcripts and fix any errors or inconsistencies.

This is how I use AI, which I deem a practical tool when used thoughtfully. I will maintain this page as things continue to change, but my art and views on this site will always be my own. Because TAV is my contribution to this world.

Living Beautifully

Living a beautiful life is simple. Here’s how.

Embrace the reality of this particle soup, the universe. We are temporary configurations of atoms and cells.

Contribute. We find purpose through contribution.

Love. We experience meaning by loving.

Make art, in whatever form moves you.

Compete with others and have fun.

Stay off your phone.

Learn all you can about whatever interests you.

(Regularly) consider our collective moment here, on this planet, together.

That’s it. We can live beautifully actualizing these 85 words. Let’s go live.

Don't Forget to Live

The other day I asked my wife, "I'm not lazy right?" She assured me I wasn't. The thing is, I carry around a lot of productivity guilt. My parents raised me with high standards, a good thing, but I'm still figuring out the right balance for myself. I put pressure on myself to be productive, and this pressure builds stress and saps happiness. Maybe I'm just Type A. I'm very conscientious of time (some would call it obsessive), and always want to feel like I'm controlling my life, that I'm producing the results I want. Then I realized, perhaps my focus on "contribution" was doing more harm than good.

Dragon’s Backbone Terraces north of Guilin, China - May 2013

So I recently decided to change the purpose proclamation in my Morning Saying, from "contribute to the universe" to "live." Because I have put too much pressure on myself. In general I work really hard, but not all the time, and that's okay. I don't have to work hard every single moment of every single day. That shouldn't be the bar for my satisfaction or fulfillment. It shouldn't determine my self-worth. On my death bed, will I look back and lament not working harder? I don't think so. I think I'll reflect on how much I've truly lived. It's like that Braveheart quote: "every man dies, but not every man really lives." I want to live a wild, fulfilling and free life. This will include, but not be wholly encompassed by, my contribution to the universe. Some of the meaning in my life will derive from how much joy I experience, how much I've loved, and the time spent with who I love. Meaning can come from feeling, and simply living, too. It doesn't have to solely derive from results.

Besides, we're not meant to work hard all the time. Cal Newport talks about this on multiple scales: some parts of your day you work harder than others, some weeks you work harder than others, some seasons of the year you work harder than others, some parts of a decade might comparatively be comprised of harder work. This is “natural,” it’s biological. Just as our bodies are set to the sun, our circadian rhythm dictating our biological processes, we’re also meant to have periods of activity and periods of rest. We are not wired to go full throttle all the time. I’m learning that in my professional life—in staving off burnout, and in my personal life. After overcoming an injury (from overtraining) and running a race, I'm now giving my body some time to rest. It's okay to rest sometimes. As Jules Renard says, it only becomes laziness when it's "resting before you get tired."

...

I've written a lot about the notion of contribution. That we should think about contribution because it grounds our lives within the larger context of the universe—we are here for only a short time, in this very place (our beautiful Earth) in this very moment (today, and however long we live). We don't live forever; we all die. So while we are here, to experience meaning, we can consider our contribution as our unique variable within the universal equation. There's so much to the equation we can't control... physical laws we can't break, perspectives and opinions of other people... but we can control ourselves. It is our last and greatest power: we fully own our contribution to the universe. We control our variable in this grand equation, and that variable, however small, has an impact on this particle soup of atoms. Knowing our unique variable contributes to the math of the universe is an encouraging and empowering thought.

Admiring the streets of Reno, February 2023

And yet, I've realized recently that if we obsess over contribution, about what we're producing in this world, we may be missing something. I think I've been missing something, not seeing the whole beautiful picture because I'm compulsively, constantly evaluating my contribution. Maybe "life" in the universe should just dance. Consider: atoms in the universe have somehow organized into living organic matter, into cells, into complex biological organisms like monkeys and belugas and hummingbirds and giraffes. And humans. We humans are special. We can manipulate our environment, to significant consequences. Humans, with our large heavily myelinated brains and opposable thumbs and advanced circulatory systems are capable of changing the world, changing the future. Every one of us can contribute to this change. But maybe that's all icing on the cake. Maybe the cake is simply being alive. Give the universe enough time and homo sapiens arrive. Perhaps our purpose is simply being here, despite the odds, and perhaps the best way to celebrate this miracle is by simply living freely. Maybe we are the dance. Maybe that's our purpose, to just dance. Maybe this is step one: to understand this miracle, to celebrate it. Maybe just dancing unlocks our goodness.

And from there we can contribute. By recognizing the miracle that we are, by dancing with the light of consciousness and screaming wildly into the void, we can fully appreciate our fortune. We can simply live. And then we can more easily contribute, without any pressure or stress, without prejudgment of how we should contribute. Maybe we let the winds of physics and chemistry, our very biology, determine how we contribute.

About all this I wonder. So now I say:

At dawn I rise to start anew

I set my path from now

My purpose: to live

Words hold sway but are mere tools to convey this experience

I utter these consciously and with conviction

I am the Universe

I am the stuff of stars

I am atoms and cells

I am Life

I am ethereal

I am kind

I am powerful

I am humble

I am open

I am life

I am alive.

I’ll continue to workshop it. But I’ve started giving myself permission to let go of my expectations, to not be so hard on myself. To enjoy periods of rest and inactivity and not feel guilty about it. To truly live with presence and joy and wild abandon when it feels right to do so, without that back-of-the mind voice whispering doubts. We should work hard, have a sense of respect and responsibility and resolve, and contribute in some way. But step one is to recognize this is a miracle, that we get to live. So go live.

Occasionally I’ve tried a much shorter and simpler version of my Morning Saying, one that’s only 11 syllables, and I’ll close with that:

I am alive

But I will die

So go live

Steven’s Speech

All memory of you is gone after 2 generations. Think about it: how well did you know your great grandparents? Probably very little or not at all, right? The same will be true for the children of your children’s children. You’ll be long gone. Maybe it all really is meaningless.

At least that's what conventional wisdom would have you believe.

I reject this reasoning. And I believe collectively rejecting this notion is the key to success for our species. We are not gone after 2 generations. Our impact lives on forever. What we do matters. Steven's speech proves it.

One of my best friends got married in 2016, about a year after I returned home from living abroad. It was a beautiful wedding in Ventura, California, and I was honored to be a part of it. I will always remember the speech his father gave at the reception. It was the most unique wedding speech I've ever heard.

He received the microphone and said simply, “My name is Steven, I am Gentry’s father. There are many people who came before Gentry and Emma who sacrificed, who worked hard for their family, allowing Gentry and Emma to meet. I’d like to read the names of these individuals to honor them and their role in bringing Gentry and Emma together.”

He then proceeded to read aloud the names of Gentry and Emma's extended family. It was humbling to hear these names, their relationship to the couple, and to realize he was right: these people actually made it possible for Gentry and Emma to come together. Without them, they would never be here, they never would have met. All of us gathered together that day, in celebration of their union, was a result of the sacrifice and hard work of so many people. It didn't matter whether these people were long gone or still with us, their sacrifices and their impact endured. Gentry and Emma lived through them; their love and their marriage was a culmination of these individuals' impact. One culmination among many before, and many to come. “Henry Fletcher, Gentry's great great grandfather, who came to California in… Mauve Palmer, Emma's grandmother, who met and married Cedric Townsend, Emma's grandfather…”

Hiking in Angeles National Forest outside LA for Gentry’s bachelor party - May 2016

Steven is no longer with us today after a long, stoic battle with cancer. I message Gentry on the date of Steven's passing every year to send his family love, telling him I still think about his dad, that I’m thankful to have met him and that he lives on through Gentry. I know I never would have met Gentry if it wasn't for his father.

I believe this story illuminates the truth about our impact on this Earth. Gentry's two young sons, just 2 generations after Steven, may not remember their grandfather, but their births happened because of him. Their lives are forever impacted by Steven's love and his life. And one day when these boys grow up and have families of their own, it will have been possible because of Steven's impact.

There's this quote commonly misattributed to the artist Bansky: "They say you die twice. Once when you stop breathing and the second, a bit later on, when somebody mentions your name for the last time." Steven's story refutes this assertion. It doesn’t matter when your name is uttered for the last time. Your impact lives on.

I think author Terry Pratchett was closer to the truth: "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence." We live on through the repercussions of our actions taken, through the impact we made on other people, through our contribution to humanity, the world, and the larger universe.

...

Two groups of three generations of Deussen’s at a family reunion in Mesa Verde National Park - August 2017

I remember visiting my great grandparents when I was very young. My mom's dad's parents were Bertha and Emilio—I have vague recollections of their small New York apartment. It smelled funny to me.

Great grandma Helen, my dad's dad's mom, lived in a mobile home in San Bernardino, and I remember not being allowed to touch anything because everything was breakable or stored on glass tables or glass cabinets.

My Great Granny Vena, who in some ways so resembled my Granny (my mom's mom), was a cute little old lady with a big smile. Her husband James, my great great grandfather, died young, meaning she raised 3 children on her own—one of whom was my Granny, who had a profound impact on my life.

And I remember going to visit my great grandma Virginia, my paternal grandpa’s mom, when I was 8 or 9 years old, to say goodbye near the end of her life. She brought 9 children into this world and was a riot, always brash with what she thought. I never knew my great grandfather Russel on my dad's mom's side, or my great grandfather Raymond on my dad’s dad’s side. But they still impacted my life just like my other great grandparents. All of them shaped who I am today, three generations later, even if indirectly, even if remotely. It’s humbling to know all 8 of my great grandparents were no doubt shaped by their ancestors many generations before.

My Granny and I were roommates during the best safari I’ve ever been on. Zimbabwe - September 2010

I think about this with my unborn daughter. She will only know 2 of her great grandparents. But I hope to convey how much they all shaped her parents' lives. They brought my wife and I together, and thus her. They will live on through her.

We live on the shoulders of those who came before. The memory of a person may fade after 2 generations, but their impact is undiminished. None of us would be here today if our ancestors didn’t strive for life. Thus what we do matters. It affects those after us; they will inherit the world we leave them. What kind of world will they receive? Will they thank us or curse us? This responsibility is bequeathed to us from our ancestors, and it's our discretion that will determine how we pass the torch of consciousness.

It’s beautiful in a way, this biological system, and I feel comforted knowing my place within my line. So many came before me, and more will follow after I'm gone. We may not live forever, but we all have the power to truly change the world. We just may not see all of our impact within our lifetime. But “a society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.”

(Phone) Addiction Again

I'm fighting my addiction again.

I feel like I've completely slipped, that I'm on my phone all the time. It feels like I check it constantly, engrossed with it any moment I'm not working. It's hard to avoid the negative self-talk. Do I really need to listen to multiple news shows every day? Is that 30 episode backlog of podcasts really that important? In my post about football earlier this week, I mentioned listening to multiple 49ers podcasts each week. Watching the game itself isn't enough? How much is too much?

Well, I just checked my metrics:

• Daily average screen time: 4 hours 21 minutes

• Daily average pickups: 72

More than 4 hours a day! And this is with most notifications off. I'm basically on par with everyone else: Americans spend 4 hours and 25 minutes on their phone every day, checking it 144 times—that's roughly once every 6 minutes.

It's easy to ask "so what." Are there even any repercussions of using your phone this much?

The scariest part—I think we don't really know. The somewhat less scary part? I think it literally makes us dumber. It drastically reduces our capacity to maintain focus. It's as if we're all living our lives through a fog. Do we want to live this way?

I think it's important we don't blame ourselves. These devices and their software are explicitly engineered to maintain our attention as much and as long as possible. And they do a good job.

So what's the solution? David Goggins said it's easier than ever before to be great: just get off your phone. Everyone is so distracted by screens that just eliminating them from your life automatically gives you a performance/productivity boost. I think he's right.

I think the easiest way to make progress is to prevent phone use for a chunk of the day and see how that goes. So, moving forward, I aim to live phone-free until 12pm each day.

There are exceptions:

• I still use my phone as an alarm clock

• I'll use my phone for meditation as part of my morning routine

• I can use Duolingo in the morning if I have downtime before I start working

• If I'm running or lifting, I get to use my phone to listen to podcasts—this is my 'reward' for exercising

• I can use my phone to listen to music at any time

The point of all this is to foster a quieter headspace, to protect my consciousness from constant information bombardment. To give myself time to think. To live more intentionally, and to be more in control of what I experience.

Thus far the results have been great. I feel calmer. I feel less rushed; the passage of time feels pleasant. I feel more present. I focus less on the problems of the world (which are still important) and more on my life and my tribe, the people who matter the most to me. I haven't experienced it yet, but I believe my ability to focus will increase. And I'm just straight up happier. These effects are worth it to me.

Just consider our lives before smartphones. How did we spend our time in 2002? We had more personal interactions, we talked with strangers more readily, we were more present and fulfilled throughout the day. We weren't distracted all the time.

When you're not habitually plugged in to the worldwide digital world, you have time for you and your family. That means when you do listen to the news, you can be more present. You can empathize better with problems and are more likely to contribute your time or money towards solutions because you've already handled your personal business.

Unplugging enables us to raise our global consciousness. I'll check back in and let you know how it goes.

Football and Life

I’ve become a football fan again.

I grew up watching the 49ers in the early 90’s, when they were fresh off 4 Super Bowls and expected to win more. Some of my first coherent sentences were exclamations about football games. I remember the pure childish joy from Super Bowl XXIX when the 9ers whooped the San Diego Chargers and my favorite player, Ricky Watters, scored 3 touchdowns. I remember crying after the 49ers lost in the 1998 NFC Divisional Playoffs to Chandler and the Atlanta Flacons, when our best player, Garrison Hearst, broke his ankle on the first play from scrimmage. My dad told me afterwards, “it’s just football, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be so upset.”

It seems at 36 years old I'm still learning that lesson. This is the story of football in my life thus far.

Candlestick

I have fond memories of Candlestick Park growing up. My parents had two season tickets for a while. Occasionally I got to go with my dad, maybe twice a season or so. I remember parking in the dirt lots outside the dilapidated stadium. I remember the long drive both ways; San Francisco was far from East side San Jose. We would bring unsalted peanuts and drinks, arriving early for warmups. My parents had north end zone seats for a while, row 10. They were great seats; you could feel the effervescence and fervor of the game. It wasn’t a passive observation platform, but an experience.

One November Sunday in 2001 I attended a regular season game against the Philadelphia Eagles with my dad. Right in our end zone, the 9ers completed an incredible goal line stand, stopping the Eagles on 6 straight plays from inside the 2 yard line. We stuffed the run on a first set of downs, but incurred a penalty on third down. With a fresh set of downs from the 1 yard line, we held them on three straight plays again, the last of which we intercepted Donovan McNabb in the end zone. It was absolutely bedlam in the stadium, particularly in our end zone. It was probably the first time I experienced the joy of high-fiving random strangers at a football game, when, in that moment, you're one tribe with the team.

Playing the Game

This was all before I played football. Actually playing the game is a completely different experience.

Captains walking to the coin toss in high school, November 2005

I remember playing two-hand touch during recess when I was in fourth grade. We had a blast, and I learned a lot—I remember learning how downs worked. Until then, I thought the offense got to run as many plays as they wanted until they scored or got tired. I didn’t really understand down and distance, and definitely didn't understand special teams or change of possession.

In middle school and my freshman year of high school I ran cross country, which conflicted with the football season. But my friends were on the football team, and I wanted to join. I had no idea how organized football worked. I distinctly remember my mom and I trying to figure out how to put on my leg pads before my first practice. I wasn’t very good at first, but I started to learn the game. I continued to rise on the depth chart through high school, developing into a good player my senior year. By that time I loved playing the game, and wanted to play in college. I chose to attend Occidental College, a Division III school, because it was one of the schools that recruited me. In my collegiate career I fought through a lot of injuries and never developed to my full potential, but I helped my team win some important games.

Concussions

Then there's the concussion issue. I didn't escape that either, "receiving" (isn't that a strange way to word it?) multiple concussions throughout my playing career.

One happened in practice in high school—a kid essentially head butted me during a blocking drill and I was literally stunned. The position coach running the drill wanted me to save face, since I was a senior and this kid was a junior. He had us do the drill again and I “defended my honor” by besting the kid the second time. I remember participating in the rest of practice seemingly without incident. When I got home that afternoon, I kept repeating myself to my parents. I remember saying something to my dad, and then specifically asking him, “I feel like I said that before and I’m repeating myself. I think maybe I have a concussion.” He said, “yeah you are repeating yourself, I think you might have a concussion.” He took me to the ER and they did a brain scan, and sure enough, I had a mild concussion. I don’t remember how long I sat out contact drills, but I definitely didn’t miss any games.

Making a catch in college, September 2009

My second known concussion was in the last game of my high school career. We played our rival in our second playoff game, whom we had beaten at home toward the beginning of the season. On defense I was playing free safety, and the quarterback scrambled down the middle of the field. I was out of position for the scramble and couldn’t deliver a solid tackle; instead, the quarterback, who was a big kid, delivered the force of the hit. Again I was a little shell shocked. I had stopped him short of the first down, but our defensive coordinator was worried they might fake punt it, so he had me line up near the goal line to field the punt—he wanted the defense on the field just in case they went for it. I told him during the timeout that I couldn’t do it, and he waved me off, insisting I’d be fine. They punted a high kick, and I remember seeing the ball come down to me, with gunners sprinting towards me in my peripheral vision. I remember thinking, “I need to wave to make a fair catch,” but my brain couldn’t make my body do it, and I didn’t make any fair catch signal. I was a sitting duck, hit immediately upon catching the ball, and I muffed the punt. I came off the field livid, because I had told my coach I couldn’t do it—I had never once even fielded punts in practice all year. I’m pretty sure I was concussed on back to back plays. But I stayed in and played the entire game, and didn’t think anything of it afterwards, too upset by our loss and elimination from the playoffs.

I have friends who played football professionally overseas, and I think they had a great time. I always thought about it, but was too far removed from that path when I moved to Cape Town and Beijing. Now I’m terrified to play even flag football, worried I’ll plant my foot on a cut and blow out my knee. I also wonder if I would let my future children play football. I’m not sure—the game is safer now, and we’re all more aware of the danger and risks regarding head trauma, but the danger is still there. Despite having so much fun playing football in high school and college, I don’t know if it’s worth it. Even now I may have some unforeseen long term health problems from my concussions nearly twenty years ago.

No Football Post School

After college I moved to South Africa, where there was no American football. I remember watching the 2012 49ers team go all the way to the Super Bowl, Skyping with my friends or family to watch. They would face their laptop toward the TV, and I would yell and cheer while making out the game on grainy footage through 3 screens.

After that Super Bowl loss, I stopped watching football regularly. Later that month I moved from Cape Town to Beijing, and was adapting to a lot of change in my life. I was living abroad and immersed in the culture there. It also coincided with the 49ers being pretty bad for the most part. But I also didn’t have a TV when I lived in South Africa or China. The game receded in importance in my life. I was exploring the world and becoming a man.

My Return to the Game

Then I started watching when I came back. I got sucked into the American football culture. Since I returned to California, I’ve spent a lot of time watching football games, reading articles about my team, and listening to podcasts for analysis and expert commentary. I’ve spent a lot of money on tickets to watch games in person. 

Watching the 49ers - Packers game at Levi’s, September 2021

My hot wife knows football, and is a Green Bay Packers fan, our archenemies, second only to the Cowboys. I think it makes her even hotter. I still ask myself regularly: how did I marry a Packers fan? Perhaps I was convinced by her knowledge and true football fandom. Just this past week she was complaining how the Packers stopped running the ball, making Jordan Love shoulder all the load on offense when he’s still recovering from injury and no preseason.

Is there anything wrong with this? Not per se, but I don’t think I particularly want the person giving my eulogy to proclaim, “Trevor was a great football fan. He loved watching his beloved 49ers play.” Is that what I want said about my life? It’s fine to enjoy a hobby, but the marketing is so good for professional sports, it’s easy for casual fandom to slip into obsession and wasted time.

What have I learned?

Football can be a part of your life, but isn’t your whole life. I didn’t go pro. I’ve made zero money playing football. But it sure taught me a lot.

It’s fine to be a football fan. You can bond with friends while watching. It can build community camaraderie. But it can also be a waste of time and money. When you throw in fantasy football, and ESPN browsing, and podcasts, and watching the pregame shows, and the football games themselves, plus Sports Center, how much time are we talking? Everyone can live their life how they want if it’s not hurting anybody, but is that what we really want? Upon our deathbed, will we say, “man I really wish I watched more football.”

I’ll grant that you learn important lessons while playing the game. You learn that your one job matters and affects the entire whole. Your one block can prevent the trail player from making the tackle. You can spring a touchdown by clearing the field on a route, having never touched the ball or another player.

Football teaches you to think and work through extreme duress. It’s such an aggressive, fast game. You have to prepare for it. You can’t be actively thinking throughout a play, you have to train so it’s automatic on offense, pure instinct and reaction on defense. The heart comes into play in between plays. You have to want it bad. You’re often dead tired, in physical pain, and mentally and emotionally drained. Yet you need to focus. You process the next play call and must understand exactly what you have to do. You need to understand the situation of the game, down and distance and time left, personnel on the field, the score, how many timeouts your team has and how many your opponent has. And you only get 25 seconds. Because once the ball is snapped, the frenetic movement and chaos resumes. At the snap you run as fast as you can and exert as much strength as you can. All within about six seconds.

The 49ers are NFC Champions! January 2024

And nothing beats the roar of the crowd when you make a big play, the celebration with equally exhausted yet dedicated teammates. The feeling of accomplishment, the satisfaction that your success was directly due to the hard work you put in over hundreds of hours. I will always have fond memories of playing the game.

But all I do is watch now. And I’ve learned that it really is just a game, simply entertainment. It doesn’t really matter who wins. I like to joke that the 49ers winning or losing doesn’t affect anything, except maybe my home value. Maybe if they win a Super Bowl I can sell my condo for more money. But I will remain a lifelong 49er fan. Watching football is fun and it connects me to my childhood. I enjoy watching the game with family and friends, and I know these will be treasured memories when I’m an old man. But it will not become the center of my life. I enjoy the back and forth banter with my wife and her family, attending the occasional game, and camaraderie with friends while rooting for our team. I have fond memories of successful seasons and all the good times that were associated with memorable games.

Games can teach us a lot. But they are only games. Football has been a big part of my life, but it’s only the vehicle for entertainment and joy I experience with my tribe. I guess the biggest thing it’s taught me is this: there are rules in football as there are rules in life, and it’s important to work hard and have fun, but eventually it ends. We can derive as much meaning from it as we want, and that’s fully up to us. So go enjoy it.

Human Responsibility

Can’t we just abandon all responsibility? 

A few weeks ago I wrote about Resolve, and its close synonym Resiliency. I was thinking about Responsibility today, wondering… why should anyone feel responsible? Why should we have any responsibility for anything? I kept thinking… why not embrace hedonism fully and live a fun adventurous life? Why not discard our burdens with wanton abandon?

Isn’t it nicer to live a lighter life? Why should we worry about climate change, about the destruction of natural habitats, the demise of innumerable species during our time here? Why care about the economy, who wins the upcoming presidential election, when we can live relatively good lives by focusing on ourselves?

I do not yet have children, but I imagine your sense of responsibility forever changes once you do, when you must care for and protect them. I think it changes you. You’re more inclined to think about the future, to care about the planet, when your children must inherit the Earth after you. A perspective centered around only yourself is fundamentally limited.

Norwegian countryside from the train - July 2023

I often think, “I’m one of eight billion people on this planet, out of even more billions to have ever lived… trillions of life forms have existed on this planet. Who am I to think I’m important?” And that’s only the ‘life scale.’ In terms of time, I inhabit this rock for one relative instance, one short human lifespan. I realize: this planet is on loan to me. I get to enjoy its splendor for my lifetime, but then have to let it go and share it with all who come after me. It’s not mine to ruin. I have a responsibility to ensure I’m not a selfish harbinger of destruction, but a responsible tenant.

Respect, Responsibility and Resolve are all connected to one another. In order to grasp a sense of responsibility you have to have respect; for others, for the planet, for the time we share together, for the one life we all get to live. Without respecting the sacredness of life, it’s impossible to have responsibility. Similarly, in order to maintain a sense of responsibility, you have to have resolve. You have to be resilient in the face of the inevitable adversity you’ll experience, to continue to push for what you believe in, what’s right, what’s just, for the betterment of humanity and for all the life on this planet. It requires resolve to keep going, to act on that sense of responsibility. The three R’s are inseparable.

We don’t need to feel responsible for the fate of humanity. But we should feel like responsible stewards of this planet. Our actions matter. We don’t have the Earth forever. When we die, we pass it on to our children and children’s children, in whatever state we leave it. A sense of responsibility encompasses doing one’s part, even if that’s just a little. We all contribute, and we’re all apart of this. Isn’t it only fair for us to contribute what we can while we enjoy this one wild life? Responsibility is part of being human, and I for one am glad for it.

Our Home - What a Wild World!

Photographs can inspire more than video. We evaluate a video’s content instantly upon watching, moving on if it’s not captivating enough for our attention spans. But a good photo makes you stop. It provokes, and it allows you the space to sit, process, and wonder. Haven’t you ever whispered ‘wow’ upon viewing an amazing photograph?

I want to capture that awe for the natural world, so I've resumed showcasing my work on Instagram. Every day I aim to publish a compelling photograph from somewhere around the world and include some sort of personal story or interesting tidbit. This is separate from my writing here.

I want people to celebrate our home. Too easily we forget: it truly is one big beautiful amazing world. I seek to prove exactly that, day after day, with a single photo.

Picturesque Bergen

Recently I posted this picture of a street in Bergen, Norway. I was there in the summer of 2023 and became fascinated with the town. It had such an interesting history, being the most populous place in Scandinavia in the 1500's and 1600's. Back then it was mostly inhabited by Germans, functioning as a prolific artesian and trading town. Today it's still the second largest city in Norway, but minuscule in size and importance to modern Europe. You can feel this history walking the streets, yet are still connected to the surrounding water and mountains typical in Norway.

I only learned of Bergen through my research for Svalbard, and we only visited here because it was the terminus of the train and boat tour from Oslo. Yet it was this vibrant, beautiful city, tucked away on the edge of Europe. 

Our planet is full of so many interesting places. Earth is just this absolutely incredible home. If you had to create a home world for humanity from scratch, it would be this. There’s so much wonder to discover and experience. 

Guangxi Province evokes awe and wonder

I also shared a shot of the Li River. On the other side of the planet from Norway, this waterway meanders south from Guilin, China down to Yangshuo in Guangxi province. I visited this region back in 2014, as part of a grand Southern China trip. Guilin is lesser known in most of the world, but in China's it's widely considered one of the country's crown jewels of natural beauty, famous for its karst topography of green-carpeted mountains and picturesque valleys. On this trip I had taken the train from Guangzhou to Guilin, a regional hub with millions of people. It had rained heavily in the preceding week, and Guilin was a "Tier 3 city," meaning it had grown in population but its infrastructure hadn't kept up. I was headed to Yangshuo, closer to the famous scenery. But there was no way to get there because of all the rain—there was so much flooding that buses, trains and taxis were all cancelled. After talking with some locals, I realized there was only way to get down to Yangshuo that day: by raft. So I hired a man to take me down the river, enjoying a free sightseeing ride along the way. Those few hours of peace and serenity, away from the hustle and bustle, were a superb introduction to the region and all it had to offer. This all unfolded by happenstance, as things often do while traveling. What a wild world!

Earth is full of natural wonders, from the wild freedom of the ocean to far-flung volcanic islands; from the frozen deserts and tundra on the poles to the gigantic forests and jungles near the equator; from the wide open plains and steppes to the majesty of the mountains. Earth has it all. And the planet isn't empty! There are so many cultures to experience, foods to taste, customs to appreciate, and history to learn. There are lilac-breasted rollers and incredible bridges, red rock mountains and lions napping in trees. What more could we ask for?

I've always been drawn to Mary Oliver’s quote: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" It motivates me to live well and strive for adventure. The Earth is the perfect canvas to make our mark. To explore it, to experience all it has to offer, seems, to me at least, a fine way to spend our time well.

So follow my journey to document and experience this wondrous planet and all its offerings. I hope my photography inspires admiration and awe for our home. And maybe, just maybe, by appreciating our one shared world, we can unite around this most basic collective condition, and strive for a beautiful future.

Joe Rogan is rich. But his podcast can tell us something about happiness.

Joe Rogan and Tom Segura strayed into rich guy talk on JRE last week. While unpalatable, the discussion also presents an important lesson.

Around the 74 minute mark they started talking luxury cars. Cars that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They looked up a tract of land for sale with a custom built racetrack, and Joe briefly entertained the idea of buying it so they had somewhere to drive their fast luxury cars, but they reasoned it was too far. Tom even said "hey you can helicopter there."

Opulent Big Ben, London - February 2023

This is obviously outside the realm of possibility for most people. Both Joe and Tom are very wealthy, with Joe even qualifying as obscenely rich (with his Spotify deals). Their luxury car conversation illustrates they’re living in a different world. Joe is usually pretty good at staying away from this type of talk, but succumbs to it with guests who are friends.

My hot take: it's okay for them to talk about this, it's okay for them to be rich. I don't begrudge their wealth just because it dwarfs mine. I believe in capitalism. Our society attributes value to what these two men produce—comedy. There's nothing wrong with being rich. I think Joe just knows most listeners will only tolerate so much rich guy talk.

But their conversation illuminates something. It shows that despite any wealth divide, we cannot escape the universal human condition: our insatiable need for more. Joe Rogan and Tom Segura were causally talking about something tempting, but it was just a little too pricey. Even if Joe's net worth really is 9 digits, there are still things he cannot afford or is unwilling to pay for. We all experience this, no matter our wealth. Jeff Bezos, one of the richest human beings on the planet (and in the history of the world), famously had a $500 million superyacht built. This yacht has a “support vessel” which… has a helicopter pad. Talk about ostentatious spending. But Bezos couldn't get his superyacht out of the harbor. It was too big to exit underneath the bridge. Eventually the masts were stepped, but it proves even the 2nd richest person on the planet can't have everything he wants whenever he wants. 

None of us can. It's a fundamental part of the human condition. Our brains are wired to adapt to current circumstances as a survival mechanism. Once we become accustomed to more ease, more time, more wealth, we continue to want more. It's inescapable; every human being faces this conundrum. So while the rich may live in a different world in many ways, that only extends so far. We each struggle through the same emotional capacity. While the physical, tangible items we desire or covet might look drastically different, the struggle is the same.

Wealth and beauty on display at Ponza, Italy - July 2024

This can be an encouraging thought. It can give some solace, that even if we never become as rich as Joe or Jeff, we can still enjoy a good life. I'd argue the 'richest' people in the world are those who experience the most joy within their current situation, within themselves. Those who can remain content and maximize their time are the wealthiest. Elon Musk said as much a previous Joe Rogan episode, quipping, "everyone thinks they want to be me. I don't think most people want to be me." Does Elon get to jet set around the world? Yes. Is he plagued internally with his incessant thinking patterns? It seems so.

All this provides an opportunity to eliminate envy. We can all strive to be our best, to provide as good a life as possible for our families. But competing for wealth with others is folly. We all adapt to our circumstances, we are all tempted with the allure of more. How we reject that, how we remain satisfied, is what determines our quality of life.

Many studies have shown that once an individual makes above a certain salary threshold, happiness doesn't increase. I intuit that's true. Once our basic needs are met, it's up to us to be happy. So maybe we take Joe's advice for society and make less losers. Maybe we set things up so we don't have really poor people living in communities with no opportunity. Maybe if we solve that, we can work to ensure all humans globally enjoy an acceptable standard of living. Maybe that's the easy part. Maybe the hard part is the battle we each must face, of resisting more, and remaining fulfilled. 

Three Good Things

I don’t know if my parents got it from somewhere or came up with it themselves. But it’s worked wonders for me. My wife and I do it, and I look forward to continuing it with my daughter someday.

When I was growing up we would go around the table and say “three good things” about our day. The vagueness of “thing” was important to the exercise. It didn’t have to be an event or something that happened to you. It didn’t mean you had to choose something to be grateful for. You could choose something that had nothing to do with you. It just had to be “good,” and it had to be about today.

This was brilliant for a few reasons. It facilitated a conversation in which we shared our days with each other. I often talked about school, about what I learned that day or how my sports practice went. Dad usually talked about work. Sometimes it would be a good meeting, or he got off early, something like that. Mom’s three things were always varied, because she ran the household and completed all the errands. It was almost a reflection of the good out in our community. 

The principal gathering place of my family growing up, my Granny's dining room table

As a kid it gave me insight into what my parent’s day-to-day looked like. Of course I had no idea at the time—I was just eager to hear what they were going to say. But it enabled me to peer into their lives and see them as people, not just parental figures with opaque inner worlds.

It also forced us to be positive and grateful, even if we had a bad day. I don’t have explicit memories of this, but I know there were times my parents forced me to say three good things on bad days. Even if I got in trouble at school, or did poorly on a test, or dropped the ball in practice, they would make me think of three good things, even if they were small.

And some days they were really small. Some days the three things don’t feel like they add up to a lot. But voicing them out loud and sharing them with your tribe helps you retain some appreciation for the day, for being alive. You could have the most horrible day, but it’s always possible to find three good things within it. Maybe you witnessed someone acting kindly to a stranger at the store. Maybe you hit all green lights on the way home. There’s always something. It’s a reminder that there’s good in the world.

This ritual began long before cell phones. Growing up we had this brown, Southwestern style table. Mom and Dad sat at the head and foot of the table, on the short sides, and my sister and I sat across from each other on the long sides. We would all be facing each other. We would sit down to eat dinner, without the TV on, without distractions. I remember how upset my parents would get if the phone rang during the meal. I think they felt our private, almost primal family time was being encroached upon. They would (get up and) answer the (corded) phone, and when it would inevitably be a telemarketer, they would angrily say to them, “our family is eating dinner right now we are not available” and hang up. Our friends and family knew to not call around six o’clock; that was dinner time.

Here are some examples of actual good things I’ve said or heard:

• “I had my nitro cold brew this morning, and it was delicious” (it was a pretty bad day, and this was a bright spot)

• “I got a raise today!”

• “(So and so) wasn’t in my classroom today”

• “I enjoyed practicing my piano today”

• “The weather was great today”

• “(Our friend) is doing better (in the hospital)”

• “We’re sitting as a family eating dinner”

Society seems to be losing the sacredness surrounding dinner. With our phones constantly within reach, there are no longer any boundaries or private time, what we used to call “family time” growing up. People text at all hours and eat at all hours. When I was a kid, dinner was our family’s time, no one else’s. We would sit as a family and eat and talk.

And I get it. Our phones are designed to be addictive, there’s more to watch on TV than ever before, and our couches are comfortable. My wife and I want to eat on the couch in front of the TV less often. It’s a work in progress. But I also know there’s never been a meal at the table that I’ve regretted. I’ve never lamented, “man I really wish we sat in front of the TV tonight.” Not once.

San Francisco skyline from an old Instagram post of mine

When we do sit at the table together, we have an informal rule against phones. We often put on some relaxing background music, and then we sit and talk. And we ask each other about our three good things. It fosters communication and sharing. And something magical happens during that time together at the table.

There’s something intimate about eating with another person. Every culture eats meals together, and every culture celebrates holidays or holds traditions around food. It’s sacred to break bread with your tribe. It’s probably the most intimate thing you do with a person other than sleeping with them. That’s why dates often center around a meal. We even provide those on Death row a choice for the last meal. As Jack Nicholson’s insightful movie line goes, “you learn a lot, watching things eat.” 

And I wonder… what if it was that simple for us to build a better, kinder, more inclusive society? What if simply eating with our families made us better people, more grateful people, more considerate people? What if sitting down and sharing our three good things impacted the world? What if it was that simple, sharing our three good things?

Thank you Mom and Dad, for showing me this practice. It’s had a measurable effect on my life. My heart swells fondly when I think back to those memories on “ordinary” nights, having dinner at the kitchen table, just the four of us. I am continuing the practice with my family now, and I hope it will always pass down.

What are your three good things from today?

What if it was that simple?

Tell me if this sounds familiar:

"I'm barely getting by. It's hard just to pay rent and afford groceries with inflation so high. The job market sucks. Insurance is out of control. My credit cards and student loan debt are piling up. How am I supposed to keep up with everything going on in the world?" Between climate change, the economy, our broken political system, all the polarization.. sometimes it feels hopeless. And you say, "I vote in every election, isn't that enough?"

I'm not sure it's enough.

Life is hard. The weight of the world can feel debilitating. It seems we have so many big problems—how can someone like me help solve them? I'm just an ordinary person. Yet it's also clear that democracy is fragile. That it's not easy. Belligerent rhetoric makes it hard to stay engaged or hopeful. But we must remember: self-governance is not guaranteed. Malicious forces will always seek to seize or remain in power.

Thus, if we want to enjoy and preserve democracy, we must embrace responsibility. And it goes beyond voting.

Volunteering at a voting center in Mountain View during the 2020 election

Traditionally, voting is considered the bare minimum. And it's actually pretty time-consuming. To truly be informed, to vote conscientiously and with conviction, you have to read, research, and learn a lot. Do I know exactly what's in that bill? How much do I really know about this candidate—am I ​confident their character and record will translate into policy progress? Voting takes time, if done thoroughly.

But there's another responsibility that constitutes the bare minimum. Besides staying informed and voting, it's our responsibility as citizens to proactively improve our community, our country, and the world. Americans enjoy the freedoms and rights afforded to us by the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and hard-fought amendments. In order to maintain these rights and freedoms, and in order to ensure the progress of good, we must do more than simply vote. We must also proactively seek to improve democracy.

This can mean different things to different people. It doesn't have to be extravagant. There are many ways to impact the world that, while requiring effort and agency, do not require a lot of time. These simple, unique things might be called a person's "unique value adds."

Some potential examples:

I recently asked the question, "what if it was as simple as hiking more?" What if that was an effective way of changing the world? If it made us happier? If it made us more connected to the Earth and each other? Could it be that simple?

Or... what if it was as simple as keeping our living spaces tidy? Cleaner environments unclutter our minds, and impacting our emotional state and how we interact with others. Clean = feel good mentally and emotionally = treat others well = better world.

What if it was as simple as being grateful every day? (I've written extensively about gratitude; I believe it's important to actively pursue it each and every day). This is something every person on the planet can do, no matter their circumstances. What if being grateful changed our world

Grateful for a beautiful sunset in Kaanapali, July 2023

I've also wrote about the act of consideration. When we practice consideration, we are empathetic, leading to understanding and connection. Don't we need more of that in the world? What if it was as simple as being considerate?

What if, collectively pursued, these things had a huge impact on our society?

Something to note—​there's a difference between simple and easy. Something simple can still be difficult. "Simple" describes the lack of complexity in something, not the effort required. Running a marathon is extremely simple—you run 26.2 miles. Follow the course and run; it's not very complex. But yea, it's really hard. Similarly, forcing yourself to express gratitude can be difficult. It can be hard to make yourself feel something. But it's very simple: force yourself to focus on the good things in your life, and contemplate them. Exert your energy thinking about how fortunate you are, and recognize it could be much worse.

We can find our unique value adds with this easy question, "What if? What if it was that simple?" Asking ourselves this question enables us to do more than simply vote. It empowers us to explore how we can uniquely contribute to the world and make an impact.

Because life is hard. But that doesn't preclude us from doing more. And we can do things we enjoy that make a difference. Just think—​what if it was as simple as doing the simple things? What if?