We can change the world.
I can’t help but get excited while planning a trip. I’m a one bag travel advocate, and part of the fun is only bringing the minimum amount of clothes/things you need. Because you can go on a trip, or you can go on an adventure. Real travel is forgetting possessions and experiencing the most of what this beautiful planet has to offer.
Today I stopped and thought, “we have done pretty well.” It’s kind of amazing, the world as it’s set up now. While working out at the gym this morning there were TV’s showing the news from around the world. We have cars that can take us great distances, and people can communicate across continents instantly.
This doesn’t mean there isn’t inequity, hardship, or even horror in the world. We have monumental problems in our global society, and billions of people suffer every day. We have a long way to go.
But most of the world eats every day, and is connected to the internet. People live healthier and longer than ever before. We’ve made progress. Progress that must be constantly maintained and expanded; it’s not automatic. Will we continue the march onward toward an even better world?
I see proclamations on food like “no artificial preservatives” or “no hydrogenated oils.” Shouldn’t we assume that all of our foods have “real ingredients?” What if we flipped the current legislation around foods: if the poisonous ingredients are in the food, the company would have to disclaim it in huge bold lettering. Surely that would change our food landscape, and our food choices, quickly? What if we only changed that—how much better would our society run? We are what we eat.
When I stray into thoughts about mortality, I think about family time. Spending time with your tribe might be the most important thing we do in life. We strengthen our bonds and through each other unlock new heights of achievement. We’re never alone. We are the universe.
After traveling a lot you learn home isn’t just a place. Home is the people you love, the culture and the vibes that are familiar from years of experience. Home is the habits and routines you engage in, that provide fulfillment. Home is the sights and sounds, the smells and the sensations that bring peace. It’s always good to be home.
All trips come to an end, and the day you journey home is always the least fun. I try to think about what I will remember years later.
On this trip, the food was excellent—fresh lobster every day, beautiful hikes along granite cliffs and deep forest, and spending quality time with the three most important people in my life.
And I learned a lot about a new place, and in a way I learned more about my country. The United States is a vast, diverse place. I’ll always look back fondly on my visit to Maine.
Time to fly home. Until next time, vacation land state.
I’ve felt peace this week in Maine. It’s slow here. In the summer at least, the weather is incredible. We’ve done three hikes in two days, eaten lobster almost every meal, and driven around and through most of Mt Desert Island. I shudder just thinking of winter, but in June, Acadia and the surrounding area have fully lived up to the hype.
Blues upon blues in the water, outlining towering pines on the islands dotting the sea. Granite slabs sloping down to shore, interspersed with tide pools. Sand beach, forested hiking trails, and amazing sunset views. Lupine and Iris and dandelion dot the hills. All describes Acadia National Park, a place of immense beauty. We are so fortunate as Americans to have the opportunity to enjoy these national parks. Maybe the magnificent nature in our country, and the feeling it brings us, can help keep us united.
Apparently Maine is the most forested state in the Union, and we witnessed that from the water today. Kayaking around the islands off the coast near Stonington, we battled the waves and saltwater splashes while eagles and ospreys soared overhead. Every island, of which there were dozens, was packed with pine trees. It was eternally beautiful.
Here in small town America, surrounded by nature, I feel as though I’m across the country. And it feels good. This beautiful state exists in a beautiful country. Visiting here has reinvigorated my pride in ordinary, friendly, law abiding, tax paying Americans. We’re not the jaded political mudslinging we see in the news; we are a kind, hardworking people that can change the world.
Maine is a beautiful state, and Acadia National Park is stunning even in the rain. I can see why people come here and rave about it. We haven’t even had lobster yet.
There’s a distinct northeast feel here, or at least as I interpret it—this is my first time to the northernmost state in the Lower 48. The people are outgoing, friendly, and down to earth. There are fewer people in the entire state than the South Bay.
This is why I love to travel, to experience new places that are completely different. In some ways we are on the other side of the world. Yet in many others we’re still in the United States, similar in our beliefs of freedom and democracy. Maine offers a glimpse into the some of the best of what America is all about.
Courtesy of my parents’ status on the airline, we got to fly business class to Philadelphia today. It was a new experience for us and I felt like a king. Food on the airplane!
But I was also reminded that physical comfort and luxury pale in comparison to what truly matters in life: love and joy for one’s tribe. The flight could have been miserable today, even in business class, if I hated my parents. To indulge in something alone is one thing; to enjoy it with loved ones is something different.
The journey continues. Tomorrow onto Acadia National Park.
Carts ready for rent at a local market in Arusha, Tanzania - November 2019
I write from a place of privilege. Because I have security and freedom, because I’m not seeking food or shelter on an hourly or daily basis and because my loved ones are safe, I can afford to have a larger thinking time horizon.
I’m able to muse about the inequity in society, the big picture of our planet and species and the universe itself. Complete privilege.
When faced with hunger, starvation, homelessness, extreme poverty or a dangerous environment, one doesn’t consider global consciousness. You’re in survival mode, concerned only with the safety of your tribe and when and where the next meal will come.
Too much of the planet faces these conditions today. In order for everyone to buy into the one world paradigm, basic needs must be met worldwide. We can’t raise global consciousness, unite humanity, or inspire change while 8% of the human population lives below the international poverty line.
Or can we? Another way to look at it: raising global consciousness in the vast majority of people will motivate us to eliminate poverty. When we see ourselves as one species living on one wondrous planet, we’ll be incentivized to truly unite humanity. The people of privilege will need to act in order to inspire change.
Yes, there are hundreds of millions of people, if not more, who are perhaps currently incapable of focusing on such lofty ambitions. Understandably—they need to focus on surviving. But it’s also our responsibility to help them, and for those who do have a longer thinking time horizon, we can bring about a more prosperous future together.
Stopping to reflect and feel the silence in Assisi, Italy - August 2019
I've been seeking more quiet time in my day-to-day life. We're so inundated with information and noise all the time. I find myself constantly indulging in podcasts or reading on my phone. Regardless whether it's social media consumption, basic web surfing, listening to health or business podcasts—it's still consumption. Consuming information all the time. And I catch myself wondering, "what do I actually think?" Like literally, do I have my own proactive thoughts? Or am I simply processing and reacting to information all the time? With technology so integrated into our lives now, slipping into this overconsumption trap feels easier than ever.
So I try to cultivate quiet mornings. I do my routine without my phone. I mediate without an app. I refrain from listening to the news until after lunch. These small changes to how I operate at home provide space, and thus clarity. I feel more connected to my Self. My thinking is slower and less frenetic. I feel I have time to be present and enjoy the morning, even though I'm not allocating any additional time before work. The evenings can be 'harder,' in that you're often tired at the end of the day. It becomes especially easy to "just want to relax." This quickly translates to endless doomscrolling on your phone or plugging into streaming services—or both. I try to put my phone on its charger and avoid turning on the TV. It sounds so simple, but these basic things better enable me to be present with my partner or actually have my own thoughts. The other secret I've found helpful is to leave my current book out in the living room where I'll see it. I find I'm much more likely to pick it up and start reading, instead of binge-watching garbage on TV, when it's sitting right there. Reading enables me to exert more control over what I consume. And when I'm reading... it's quiet.
These practices help me reclaim some presence in my daily life. And I wonder what this could mean for us all, if we extrapolated its impact to our entire society. Not that technology and information overload are alone responsible for some of the deep-rooted friction in our culture today, but what if everyone refocused their attention? What if we all got 10% better at exercising agency with our thoughts and beliefs, instead of reacting to the swirls of noise and information out in cyberspace? What if it really was that simple? It's not that much effort, it's simply a paradigm shift. It's worth a try.
Near the scene of the act - Lawrence Station, July 2022
A construction worker insisted I take a water bottle while I was waiting for the train this morning. I had just longboarded ten minutes downhill to the station, and although it was only 8am, the temperature was 70 degrees. It made my day, a complete stranger with which I have little in common with, offering a water from this cooler. It validated my belief that people are good. And then I realized: are we really that much different?
Gazing into the distance of the African Savanna in Lake Manyara National Park, Tanzania, October 2019
There’s a line I utter aloud to myself each morning during my Morning Saying: “My purpose: contribute to the universe.” It’s part of a short speech I recite that helps prime me for the day. I reflected on that line further this morning, because I often feel pressure to accomplish, to achieve something, anything. And then I realized that there’s a way to embrace both edges of the sword, to entertain the ideas of nihilism and hedonism while staying driven.
We exist for such a short period of time. Even with increasing healthspans, we’re probably penciled in for a century, if we’re lucky. And all one has to do to feel fatalistic about the world is to consume the news. So what are we to do in this one short life? How do we find meaning? How do we grasp that sense of purpose I tell myself each morning?
We can acknowledge it will all end. That even if we achieve our wildest dreams and greatly impact the world, we’ll not be able to enjoy it forever. That can relieve some stress regarding the pressures of accomplishment. The whole, “don’t take life too seriously, you’ll never make it out alive” sort of thing. And it’s true, some sense. So if we’re going to die anyway, should we just pursue pleasure and fully embrace hedonism?
That can be fun, but it’s also empty. After partying, or vacationing, or whatever it is you enjoy, for too long… the ‘fun’ becomes not enough. Which brings us back to finding purpose. To pursuing goals, but maintaining the balance of understanding that it will all end. On my run this morning I saw this completely clearly, rationally. Contribute to the universe, but don’t stress about it, because we are finite lifeforms. Do your best, but don’t covet the ever elusive ‘win,’ because we are here to manifest the wonders of the universe just as we are.
I guess that whole “life is a great balancing act” is true. And it can all happen just in your head.
I defy the claims there are too many planes of agreement among 8 billion people.
Our core beliefs and desires are the same, regardless of culture, identity or status.
I believe we can achieve a shared human vision through music, laughter and love.
The simple things in life provide meaning enough. Enjoying an easy weekend, supporting your tribe, visiting with family… maybe we if we all stop and admire the simplistic bliss of walking the dog, we can start to see each other equally. We are all human, and we all laugh and smile for the same reasons.
And it’s June. My aunt said something to me that my dad has repeatedly told me: “as you get older, time goes by faster and faster.” Already halfway through 2024, I feel confident that the same things matter, despite the speed of time passing. Love, health, and time itself. We all crave these three things, and are miserable when any one of them slips too far into disarray. Can we recognize that, halfway through 2024?
Life is always changing, and that’s part of what makes the ride so fun. We never know where we’ll be next week or how things might shift. I believe maintaining a North Star set of principles is a key ingredient to a life well lived, but so is the embrace of serendipity. Dr. Seuss was right: oh the places you’ll go.
And we’re all on the same journey: living as a human on this wondrous planet in the twenty first century. We journey together, whether we like it or not, whether we’re conscious of that truth or not. What kind of journey shall we share amongst the swirl of change?
I watched Toy Story this evening for the first time in probably two decades. Its magic still blossoms from the screen. The animation, the soundtrack, the screenplay and humor, the voice acting, they all jump off the screen to this day, almost 30 years later.
The first fully computer animated feature length film, Toy Story was successful, and still iconic today, because of its messaging. The real world can be scary. But we get through it together with friends.
It belongs on any “must watch” list for any alien visiting our planet. It represents, I believe, what can be the best of us—through its creativity and technical execution, and through its proclamation of the “human” spirit. It just happens through toys.