It has been a while since my last letter to you. Much has changed in my life - not all good, but neither all bad. I trust this finds you and yours’ well, happy, and prosperous.
Back in July of 2009, I resolved to relieve my unhappiness - at home and at work. I left Iowa and my wife for the clarity that has always come from visiting Montana. Thinking it would be a trip of uncertain duration or outcome, I brought a fair number of clothes while leaving all else, including dogs, behind.
My journey was short; I rarely dally when crossing the barren Midwest. Driving the new car afforded me the luxury of music. Still, I spent the time deep in personal reflection. It made no sense to change the trappings or location of my life if I remained immutable. Happiness, Eleanor Roosevelt once said, is an inside job. So why my rush to depart? Why was I unable to achieve happiness in Iowa, with my wife, employed by AT&T? Was this a mid-life crisis, or a mid-life awakening?
As the miles spilled away ahead and behind, I spoke into a voice record I bought in Sioux City. I rambled and vented, allowing my thoughts to wither or survive under the cold light of the world outside my mind. My soliloquy revealed an abiding frustration with the choices I had made. Not regret that I had made these decisions, but that I had clung to them so tenaciously out of fear primarily, and sadness. Despite four years of working a program of honesty and sharing, I had reached a point beyond which I could not go. I was waiting for change to happen, for God to show the way. But it had already. My feelings were proof, as was the poisonous silence at home and the results of my work. All of these showed my efforts to be in good faith, but with null results.
I wonder, increasingly, what and where the dividing line resides between seeing the path God wants for me, and the actions and point of decision where I meekly go about fulfilling his will. Not every selfless act is God-inspired (viz, my marriage), nor every selfish act narcissistic (viz, getting healthy and setting boundaries). Certainly striving for the act of spontaneous release like a Zen archer releasing the perfect shot is fulfilling – finding the true certain is an exercise in ecstasy – but it is damned hard!
The fact is I’m defined by what I do more than what I say or think. Setting loose to reset my life is a defining series of moments that are fundamental. I can no more erase their effects than a child can stop the ripples of a pond when casting a stone. No words can undo created memories or damned-up feelings. My heart, broken so long ago, heals but will forever be a different device, wound to a different beat.
My long-stated suffering in my job revealed a shallow, callow character that was called into account during the death of a co-worker and the murder of a friend. If my job was so terrible, why didn’t I simply leave and trust in God’s plan and my ability to provide my daily bread? If the job wasn’t terrible, why not cease my whining? It accomplished little save some laughter at shared bitterness. Gratitude began to emerge, but with it a sense of my immaturity. I contain the seeds of my own transformation, charged by a higher power. Mulling endlessly was cheating myself of time and new experiences. As I valued myself a Renaissance Man, should I not cast off my own self-imposed limitations? What did I have to risk? Home – a pittance to maintain. Marriage - if it failed to emerge whole it would not be because of my job. Friends, coworkers, family – all those I love and respect returned in kind. We hope only for success and happiness for others, even if it means some bittersweet sacrifices to our own collaborations. No, I had to risk my faith that I would be all right. It is a terrible, and defining act, to cut the cords and fall to discover if I could fly. How ironic to find I could fly all along.
When I realized I was ready to take risks and move towards a new life, rather than away from that which I feared, the other decisions were made minor in comparison.
Location and vocation were reversed in priority, as were safety and surety. Upon examination I wished for a more active lifestyle, out in nature where my daily relationship with god was constantly renewed and affirmed. I missed skiing and hiking, feeling alive with the wind about me. The stark beauty of the western Rockies beckoned, and the idea of a livable, walkable, bikeable city entranced. My relationship with my parents waxes increasingly important as time’s weight presses, so I wanted to be closer to them. Finally, food and diversity were key. Much as I wish I were hardier, I must admit loving rare and yet now mundane foods only readily obtained in a city of at least modest size and urbanity. Salt Lake City fulfilled all of these criteria with the added blessings of sun, low cost of living, and the proximity of my best friend from college. Bought a house with a yard for the dogs. Done!
As for work, I looked to past loyalties, stated goals, and flexibility. My fondest wish at the time was to start a company that helps the earth, my community, offers a decent living wage and lifestyle that is reasoned and sane, and that contains within it the seeds of building a better from of corporate capitalism. In short, I knew how I wanted it to feel long before I suspected what it might produce.
My interests and past education, both collegiate and vocational, appear to coincide with the recent idea of Green Information Technology: the synthesis of methods, technologies, and paradigms found within an Internet focused world and applied to the startling backward electrical generation and distribution industries. To my own eye, few have the wherewithal to see beyond the immediacies of a smart grid into its many future applications and pitfalls. Energy usage is like water consumption or data traffic, the devil is in the methods of measurement, the presentation of useful, meaningful statistics, and the fulfillment of the audience’s needs. The tips and tricks honed in the past 11 years of networking do not need to be recreated for energy.
Clearly then I had adequate passion and experience, but still require capital, time, personnel, and industry specific knowledge. I have been blessed with a plentitude of talented friends, so that has proven to be a relatively low barrier. Knowledge requires time and discipline – fewer hobbies, less time devoted to other pursuits, more focus. But capital, that is tricky. Because of the economy it could be very difficult, so maybe take a job to build up a war-chest, research in the meantime. Get smart. Self-funding is as liberating as self-determination.
Such a dual life has proven challenging, but not insurmountable. My biggest obstacle is myself and my capital sin is distraction. I’ve been blessed with a lucrative job, but without applying a vision of my long term goals, I’ve merely changed players instead of the game. I’ve much to do, and time moves on faster and faster.
I shall close this letter with fond wishes for the achievement of our dreams tempered by our obligations of service to a higher power, to our families, and to humanity. May we be shriven of ego, and bathed in the knowledge that we are a force for good.
Happy holidays,
Dave
Saturday, December 04, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
I survived the mountains of AZ and all I have to show is this weird rash
Time for a new installment of the ToCN. I've been pretty busy; since Christmas I've been to Michigan, Salt Lake City, Newark, Tuscon, the Galiuros Mountains, and am now writing this from some high end coffee shop in downtown Phoenix. There is Much to report.
If you haven't gotten a chance to visit the left pinkie of the right hand of Michigan, I highly recommend including it in your travel plans. In June. Make sure to account for terrorist attack attempts while laying out your trip timeline. We ended up staying 2 extra days - causing my father's fun meter to plummet below the line. We then made an icy drive to Chicago to catch our second (new) leg back to Montana where people are apparently ready for bad weather. Still, aside from taking wonderful long walks only to return to the image of a day-glow Santa looking like a likely suicidal defenestration victim, the time with family was pretty good. We don't get together often (last reunion: 1994), but the events have consistently been wacky and full of laughter.
Upon returning to the "406" - and, no, people in MT don't say that - I was buffeted by interview requests. Weird, right? People were asking me to interview with their companies. Gratifying, yes; convenient, no. I had exactly 2 free days between a 23 hour drive to Tucson and the beginning of my lightweight backing course in the Galiuros Mountains of eastern AZ. So a few quickly arranged flights, some change of clothes, much handshaking, and a lot of caffeine shots later, and I was back in business ready to head south to my NOLS class by way of SLC. By the way, apparently the Jets didn't make it to the Superbowl despite the rabid fans of Northern NJ. Sorry all.
NOLS stands for the National Outdoor Leadership School - it focuses on developing leadership skills for the wild (taking groups of underexposed, wild-eyed friends into the deep frontiers as bear snacks), is an advocate of Leave No Trace, and teaches a lot of advanced skills in backcountry hiking, climbing, cooking, and medicine. I attended their Alaska hiking course after graduating from Stanford and have always looked back on my time in the Talkeetna Mountains as a coming-of-age experience. This time I had two weeks of time, a lot less physical hardiness, and a desire to hang out with folks who had at least graduated from high school.
My trip began at the NOLS Southwest branch in east Tucson - an equipment briefing, time in the mandatory NOLS circle for introductions, and a gear perusal. This course focused on the concept of lightweight backpacking. Rather than imitating masochistic mules bearing 60lb + packs, we worked hard to reduce our total carrying load to 25 pounds. Trust me - this is a phenomenal and fundamental shift in my packing paradigm. I mean, c'mon, no change of clothes, a lot of layers, 1 spoon, and a tent with no floor. What the hey!!!
Still, given the state of my relatively decrepit body, esp. knees, halving the total weight enabled me to keep up with all of my 19 year old classmates. We left the next morning for a planned 13 day, 90+ mile hike through the Galiuros Mountains of eastern Arizona: high altitude desert canyons, bouldering, bushwacking ("schwacking"), and cliff ascents. Lighweight back packing makes hopping, climbing, jumping, and swimming (brrr) possible; the desert southwest also enables LWB b/c you don't have to worry about rain/snow/insects/etc.... In theory.
I can't know if you have kept up with the weather as my father obsessively does (Dad knows the dewpoint in Glasgow or Rekyavik on any given day). There ended up being the father of all weather systems squatting over the southwest for days, dropping untold billions of gallons of precip all over the place. On day 9 a steady drizzle began to fall. Interestingly, when we ascended 2000 feet to conquer Rhodes Peak, the sun was shining, but that night the rain returned as sleet, then snow, then a blizzard. There is nothing that can prepare you to wake up in a down sleeping bag that now has the properties of a wet plastic sack. Everyones' gear was soaked and would have no chance to dry out - essential for providing insulation and retaining heat. It was time to bug out.
We had a few days of exciting, accelerated travel through heavily blanketed trails (where trails existed) and had 2 12 mile days in a row with over 4000' of elevation change. We ended up splitting up the group, with our three strongest hikers taking the long way out of the mountains. My friends hiked 12 more miles (now 36 in 3 days of high winds and snow, little insulation) and descended 3000' in just over 4 miles to get a van to our rendezvous; the rest of us hiked out to a little-used roadhead to wait in filthy, wet tarps, clothes, and sleeping bags. We slept when possible, and I had a great time singing songs with one of my tentmates who is training to be an Opera singer. I had asked her to sing throughout the trip - only when the snow was falling in direct proportion to morale did she share her voice. It was ethereal to hear on the windswept, shadowy plain. What irony - singing "Paradise" in duet under those conditions. A truck arrived a few hours later bearing us all in its bed to a delightfully warm and dry ranchhouse. Western hospitality is NOT DEAD. Standing on the threshold of the light and heat and seeing everyone healthy and laughing was a highlight of my trip.
So, it was back to the frontcountry's noise and gaudy illumination, burritos and laundrymats. We had a day to clean up and reminisce. The other "old guy" and I found a pretty, uh, unique barber shop named Dapper where the shaves are close, the room is red, the beers are free and unlimited, the pool table level, and the hairdressers heavily tattooed. It was surreal - but I left a bunch of facial hair there and felt great. That, plus a Chinese reflexology massage near the hotel, and I am restored to my self, minus a few pounds. Spend some final hours with my new friend, Niek, at the Sonora Desert Museum watching birds, javelina, and big cats. Awesome place!
Headed north to Phoenix to hang with my long-time Stanford friend Emma and explore downtown. I'm fairly reacclimated but I swear, there are a lot of people around me and they smell funny. It must be because they are clean :)
Take care - more to follow when I arrive in SLC for househunting. Hurray!!
If you haven't gotten a chance to visit the left pinkie of the right hand of Michigan, I highly recommend including it in your travel plans. In June. Make sure to account for terrorist attack attempts while laying out your trip timeline. We ended up staying 2 extra days - causing my father's fun meter to plummet below the line. We then made an icy drive to Chicago to catch our second (new) leg back to Montana where people are apparently ready for bad weather. Still, aside from taking wonderful long walks only to return to the image of a day-glow Santa looking like a likely suicidal defenestration victim, the time with family was pretty good. We don't get together often (last reunion: 1994), but the events have consistently been wacky and full of laughter.
Upon returning to the "406" - and, no, people in MT don't say that - I was buffeted by interview requests. Weird, right? People were asking me to interview with their companies. Gratifying, yes; convenient, no. I had exactly 2 free days between a 23 hour drive to Tucson and the beginning of my lightweight backing course in the Galiuros Mountains of eastern AZ. So a few quickly arranged flights, some change of clothes, much handshaking, and a lot of caffeine shots later, and I was back in business ready to head south to my NOLS class by way of SLC. By the way, apparently the Jets didn't make it to the Superbowl despite the rabid fans of Northern NJ. Sorry all.
NOLS stands for the National Outdoor Leadership School - it focuses on developing leadership skills for the wild (taking groups of underexposed, wild-eyed friends into the deep frontiers as bear snacks), is an advocate of Leave No Trace, and teaches a lot of advanced skills in backcountry hiking, climbing, cooking, and medicine. I attended their Alaska hiking course after graduating from Stanford and have always looked back on my time in the Talkeetna Mountains as a coming-of-age experience. This time I had two weeks of time, a lot less physical hardiness, and a desire to hang out with folks who had at least graduated from high school.
My trip began at the NOLS Southwest branch in east Tucson - an equipment briefing, time in the mandatory NOLS circle for introductions, and a gear perusal. This course focused on the concept of lightweight backpacking. Rather than imitating masochistic mules bearing 60lb + packs, we worked hard to reduce our total carrying load to 25 pounds. Trust me - this is a phenomenal and fundamental shift in my packing paradigm. I mean, c'mon, no change of clothes, a lot of layers, 1 spoon, and a tent with no floor. What the hey!!!
Still, given the state of my relatively decrepit body, esp. knees, halving the total weight enabled me to keep up with all of my 19 year old classmates. We left the next morning for a planned 13 day, 90+ mile hike through the Galiuros Mountains of eastern Arizona: high altitude desert canyons, bouldering, bushwacking ("schwacking"), and cliff ascents. Lighweight back packing makes hopping, climbing, jumping, and swimming (brrr) possible; the desert southwest also enables LWB b/c you don't have to worry about rain/snow/insects/etc.... In theory.
I can't know if you have kept up with the weather as my father obsessively does (Dad knows the dewpoint in Glasgow or Rekyavik on any given day). There ended up being the father of all weather systems squatting over the southwest for days, dropping untold billions of gallons of precip all over the place. On day 9 a steady drizzle began to fall. Interestingly, when we ascended 2000 feet to conquer Rhodes Peak, the sun was shining, but that night the rain returned as sleet, then snow, then a blizzard. There is nothing that can prepare you to wake up in a down sleeping bag that now has the properties of a wet plastic sack. Everyones' gear was soaked and would have no chance to dry out - essential for providing insulation and retaining heat. It was time to bug out.
We had a few days of exciting, accelerated travel through heavily blanketed trails (where trails existed) and had 2 12 mile days in a row with over 4000' of elevation change. We ended up splitting up the group, with our three strongest hikers taking the long way out of the mountains. My friends hiked 12 more miles (now 36 in 3 days of high winds and snow, little insulation) and descended 3000' in just over 4 miles to get a van to our rendezvous; the rest of us hiked out to a little-used roadhead to wait in filthy, wet tarps, clothes, and sleeping bags. We slept when possible, and I had a great time singing songs with one of my tentmates who is training to be an Opera singer. I had asked her to sing throughout the trip - only when the snow was falling in direct proportion to morale did she share her voice. It was ethereal to hear on the windswept, shadowy plain. What irony - singing "Paradise" in duet under those conditions. A truck arrived a few hours later bearing us all in its bed to a delightfully warm and dry ranchhouse. Western hospitality is NOT DEAD. Standing on the threshold of the light and heat and seeing everyone healthy and laughing was a highlight of my trip.
So, it was back to the frontcountry's noise and gaudy illumination, burritos and laundrymats. We had a day to clean up and reminisce. The other "old guy" and I found a pretty, uh, unique barber shop named Dapper where the shaves are close, the room is red, the beers are free and unlimited, the pool table level, and the hairdressers heavily tattooed. It was surreal - but I left a bunch of facial hair there and felt great. That, plus a Chinese reflexology massage near the hotel, and I am restored to my self, minus a few pounds. Spend some final hours with my new friend, Niek, at the Sonora Desert Museum watching birds, javelina, and big cats. Awesome place!
Headed north to Phoenix to hang with my long-time Stanford friend Emma and explore downtown. I'm fairly reacclimated but I swear, there are a lot of people around me and they smell funny. It must be because they are clean :)
Take care - more to follow when I arrive in SLC for househunting. Hurray!!
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