Categories
Philosophy

A Cheat-Sheet For Life

Seems like people with blogs fall into one of two categories. Those who love lists, and insist that every post is a list. And those who avoid lists like the plague. Other than one or two, so far there’s been little list-love on this blog. But later this week my personal clock goes forward another year (crumbs), and it seems as fitting time as any to fire up a bit of list-action. Whilst the road has hardly been figured out yet (seems like quite the opposite in recent months), there’s a few things that have stuck so far and that I try to keep in mind.

So here’s my cheat-sheet for life, with literal examples and metaphors, and in no particular order. Many of these came about during the Vague Direction bicycle journey, and many of these inspired it. It was going to be a list of ten but grew to a list of thirty-plus. Once you pop it’s tricky to stop. Of course it’s a case of different strokes for different folks, but these are the most valuable, honest points I can think of. Maybe you can use some of them or share them with someone who could. If not, look at number 10 and throw this post in the bin.

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1) There’s never a right moment.
Don’t wait for all the cards to line up or for things to settle down. If you want it but don’t have the time, then find the time by eliminating other, less-worthy parts of the day. Creativity is boosted through constraint so if you really don’t have much time, make use of the little time you can make. (Age is no excuse).

2) But remember to sleep. Don’t kill yourself. Sleep 8+ hours a day. Sleep as many hours as you need to to catch up. You won’t be as snappy, you’ll be more productive, more creative, have a better immune system, and be happier.

3) If you’re not happy, change things. If you don’t change things, then of course you won’t get happier, and if you can’t change things, see #1.

4) Flying too low is just as risky as flying too high. Icarus’ dad made him some wings, and told him not to fly too close to the sun. Icarus flew too high, the wax melted, and he fell to his death. Hardly anyone mentions that Icarus was also warned about flying too low. Flying too low was just as dangerous as flying too high, because seawater would ruin the lift in his wings. Metaphor over. Flying higher is better than flying lower.

5) Say yes to the things that scare you. The riskiest route we can take is to play it safe. If anything makes you anxious, it probably means it’s something you should face. Nervous? Shy? Introverted? Good. Crush your nerves by going on live TV and you’ll laugh at your anxiety once it’s done. Or something else scary. You can only grow as a person, and you can only broaden your comfort zone, if you seek out and embrace risk and discomfort.

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6) Say no too.
Say no when you can’t bring value. Be aggressively selective. Many loss leaders are all loss, no lead. Make sure there’s batteries in your BS alarm.

7) Make new stuff, and make it personal.
Doing something creative, making something, building something is the easiest way out of a rut. When something flops, work on something new. Maybe next time it will work. And when something goes well, ignore the hype and avoid the ego by consistently making something new. The best way to get your ideal gig is to set yourself a dream brief again and again. Publish, publish and publish your personal work until a decision-maker notices.

8) Be honest. Blogs, writing, any creative work – it’s always better when it’s honest. Even if you’re worried you’re putting too much on the line. You should get scared before hitting publish. That’s a great sign. Writing is not about key literary techniques and tenses, it’s about honesty. Sugarcoating sucks.

9) Don’t get too close to the industry of an activity you love. Just do the activity instead. If you love to do something, becoming involved in the politics of it all can turn sour. I’ve drifted away from countless sports and activities I loved because of being too close to the industry, and in each case it’s taken years to heal. Made a conscious decision at the beginning of the Vague Direction project to stay away from the adventure, travel, and cycling industries and it’s worked out way better.

10) Most of the things you own aren’t necessary. When was the last time you used that Zip Drive? Time and happiness are far better measuring sticks than a collection of things or a currency.

11) “There are two ways to build the biggest building in town. 1. Build the biggest building in town. 2. Tear down all the other buildings around you.” Be genuinely happy for people when they win and make leaps in life. Jealousy, cynicism, bitterness are a disease and you should avoid them. Choose the first way, not the second.

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12) Sometimes walking away to clear your head is necessary
, and isolation is an easy way to find creativity and recharge, but for most people the best memories are those that are shared. Perhaps not the most hardcore but certainly the fondest. There’s vast amounts of worthwhile things to do on your own, but shared experiences will always rise to the top.

13) The grand, big, ambitious missions are the best missions.


14) Make it clear from the outset what’s important to your lifestyle and use that as a pillar. One of the most important things for me at the moment is being able to work remotely from anywhere with an internet connection. Find out the things most important to you and build them in to your path now rather than attempting to add them as a pillar later.

15) The winner is the one who stays in the game the longest. Failure and the long-haul is awesome, it means you’re doing it, you’re trying. Get to know people who have failed more times than they’ve succeeded, because it’s easier to learn that way. There’s no luck involved in the victory if it comes after failing ten times.

16) Understand how you operate and embrace it. I do the best work late, into the early hours, when it’s quiet. Others are up before sunrise and they do best before the day begins. Others crank the tunes to get in the zone. You can try and adapt your system but if you always fall back into your old ways, your body and mind is telling you something.

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17) When it rains, suck it up.
It’ll stop raining soon. Even if it starts hailing, snowing, lightning or literally raining labrador puppies and siamese hairballs, blue skies are on the way. Time heals all wounds. In three months you’ll laugh about it.

18) Laugh a lot. Some of the shittiest situations can be fixed, or at least softened, with laughter. And movement. Steal Jimmy’s catchphrase and keep your chin up. And make steps forward even when they seem to be leading nowhere.

19) Routine and persistence is more likely to produce results than a single lightbulb moment. Recognise the difference between should and must.

20) Stop worrying about what people think, and don’t try to please the majority. Brene Brown advises to have a short list of people whos opinions you care about. This seems like good advice. You don’t need everyone to like your work, just a very small subset of people who love it.

21) “Good artists copy but great artists steal” – you’re a wise dude Pablo P-dog. I hate the word artist because it conjures up pretentious imagery of berets and palettes. But what he’s saying applies to much more than that. There’s no need to be totally original all the time. People make stuff so that you will use it. Steal. Whoever made it wants you to. They won’t mind. Steal the building blocks so it frees up energy to make something that only you can make.

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22) Always deliver value, and always be kind.
Because it’s the right thing to do and a nice thing to do. Plus you never know when you’ll need to ask the Karmic-gods for help.

23) Ask for help. People want to help. People want to mentor. People want to see other people grow and grow themselves. It might seem brave to go it alone but it won’t be as easy, or as good compared to if you ask someone. Plus, they’ll get a lot out of it too, so don’t think of it as taking. Often, by asking, you’re giving.

24) You have access to the best mentors in the world. Try to access them face-to-face by providing them with something that no-one else bothers to give them. If you’re doing it right, they’ll initially say no. Take the no, send them an idea that will help them, and be unlike everyone else so they say yes. And if they really are impossible to access, it’s OK because the internet will let you learn from them regardless.

25) Everyone feels like a fraud. No-one really knows what they’re doing. Roll with it. And don’t be intimidated by any individual person who tells you anything different because intimidation is not real and you’ve just invented it in your head.

26) Make sure you keep the people who energise and lift you around you. Help them. All the time. Help them tackle their obstacles. Keep in touch with them, even when they’re on the other side of the world.

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27) Politely eject anyone who brings you down.
This includes gossipers, those who don’t understand about or have any ambition, and those who belittle other peoples choices. Not worth your time. Sometimes it’s necessary to cut ties.

28) Policies, procedures and rules have often been designed by Sir Jeremy Jobsworth and should be taken with a grain of salt. But when you mess up, which you will, apologise and move on. The good thing about mistakes is that you’ll remember them and they won’t be mistakes again. It’s much easier learning from experience than theory, and it’s easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.

29) Being rejected is awesome. It’s a hurdle. Hurdles filter out the people who aren’t willing to find a way over them from those who are. Take the rejection, and then figure out a way to jump the hurdle. Copy Jessica Ennis.

30) If you can’t work in a hoody, or go to meetings in a baseball hat, eat lunch outside, or say ‘rad’ and ‘awesome’ a lot, even though you dream of being able to do all that, then something is wrong.

31) “If I had asked people what they wanted, they would have said a faster horse”, Henry Ford. Listen to other peoples opinions, but don’t always assume they’re right.

32) Dogs > cats.

No doubt there’ll be more going forwards.

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Categories
Philosophy

Sabotaging The Future

“When I was starting out, and I was struggling, and so stressed and freaking out, and I felt like I was muscling everything through, everything was through the force of will. Nothing was being given to me. I had to fight for every single thing, and I was broke and I was just bummed and frustrated and so ambitious. But it doesn’t happen overnight.

So many people that were more veteran than me would just tell me ‘dude, just cherish these moments, because it’s never going to be like this again, and you’re doing cool sh*t, and just appreciate everything that you’re doing in the moment, because whether you make it or not, you’re doing it. You’re trying. You’re having fun. You’re making stuff that you believe in.’ Now I look back on those times of finding it, and the struggle, so fondly.” Ruben Fleischer, director of Gangster Squad.

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Do you ever put your headphones on and walk down the street with Eminem – Lose Yourself on full blast thinking about the future? No? Oh. Me neither.

The vibrations of the motors, rain on the train windows, buzz of the TV’s, jingles on the radio. The commuting eyeballs that stare at the ground and only occasionally glance up, and a sound of static if we’re not careful. Sometimes this is like being an addict, searching for that forgotten sense of clarity, creativity, flow that a few months ago came so easily. Everyday life finds a way to take over and those things we desire are pushed to the back. The classic struggle. If we’re not careful, at the back Clear is chilling with Inspired, and at the front Mediocre is getting chummy with Secure. It’s up to us to bring what thrills us and gets us excited back to the front.

The last few weeks have been full on. There’s a Vague Direction book churning away in the background. It’ll be worth it, but it is becoming apparent how much of an undertaking it’s going to be and how much longer it will take than first anticipated. Classic tortoise and hare, but that’s fine – it’s gotta be good. Why rush if taking a little longer means better quality. Pushing that to one side, real life requirements have meant at the forefront of my mind has been to find sustainability and regularity that comes with a pay slip that someone else gives you. For a moment I fell off the self-employed horse and tried to jump on the wagon of becoming a full-time employee, being employed by somebody else, working on their mission, and getting their paycheck. The mission was irrelevant and I was irreverent.

It was a worthwhile test regardless of the outcome, in one way a confidence boost. As someone who’s just come back from ‘a year off to go on a bike ride’, to an outsider my CV probably looks like it has a gaping hole in it and a hint of this-guy-will-probably-leave-after-two-months, so I was pleasantly shocked at the ease in going from interview to offer. With two full-time offers on the table, and the prospect of settling down in England’s capital, committing to the hustle and bustle was imminent. In one way it was quite an exciting thought and in another something wasn’t sitting right, so I went to chat with two trusted comrades for advice.

They’ve both carved their own paths and built their own foundations. I told them about what was about to happen and they looked at me like a crazy person. One said “you’ve done part of it but you’re not done yet. Can you imagine saying yes and looking back in 6 months to what could’ve been?”. The other said, “These are the seeds. You don’t know it yet but eventually you’ll be able to trace back and it’ll be these moments that count.”  They were both conversations that were very similar to the chat 10 months earlier that’s quoted at the top of this post. The meaning applies to anyone on their own mission who has doubts about the struggle and their ability to see it through.

From the earliest stages of this project, the mission was to create a foundation. It’d be a standalone epic experience, and there’d be a good book that would be worth reading as a tangible output, but more than that it would be the beginning of a sustainability that would allow new encounters, moments to remember, location flexibility and more adventures. So the advice from the mini-mentoring sessions resonated and internally I knew it was true. It was a relief in many ways when, whilst many people would’ve advised the obvious option, their advice went the other way.

They were inspiring. It took moments for my priorities to shift to what deep down was the only way. I’d do everything possible, any freelance work, any video contracts. Anything that would provide a way of getting by with enough flexibility to finish this project and see what comes of it. Any other option was the wrong one.

A common thread that came up when chatting to folks on the road last year was that lots of people give up too soon. Saying yes to one of those offers wouldn’t mean anything. No output or change. It would mean working on someone else’s mission all week just because they’d provide a comfortable way to get by, and then trying to pluck up the motivation to work on everything else in occasional spare moments, probably under the haze of stress. Striving for perceived security would be giving up and letting go of any momentum that had been built.

It’s not all slotted into place yet, but I’m grateful to talk to people who have opted for the potential rewards of the unconventional route themselves, because sometimes it seems like those trying to build a path of their own are the few who realise why it’s attractive in the first place. Of course we all have different circumstances, needs, requirements and desires, and it’s not for everyone, but working towards a mission you believe in, creating something, seeing the progression of your work and taking ownership of it is one of the most worthy things I can think of. Maybe it’s ignorance, immaturity, ego, selfishness or a cracked sense of drive, but it seems like a bad idea to let ambition slide just because there’s an easier-for-now option on the table.

Perhaps this will hit a dead end. Perhaps a year spent on the road and the immediate impact was all it was. Perhaps being a full-time employee will become the most desirable option. Fine. But not yet. Right now is time to play the grit card. It’s not a decision about sabotage, it’s a decision about fidelity. The sabotage would be quitting too early, not getting through the dip, and not getting this to a stage to see what could come from it. There’s few secure paths now anyway. Every day people who think they’re on the secure route face insecurity. The only guarantee left is in great work that only you can do, and you can only make great work if you believe in it. This is what I believe in. What about you?

Categories
Philosophy

Time, Lessons, Reset, 4 words.

2014 is here. How crazy is that? A simple minute, 11.59 to 00.00, but with it a switch from one year to the next. Even though in reality it’s just a brief moment, the new year is a great marker – a catalyst to wipe the slate clean, reset, change.

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I suppose the first part of this post is just an attempt to personally distill and clarify some thoughts by writing them down. The second part is a fun goal-setting exercise that hopefully you’ll join in with.

Quickly looking back, last year was amazingly crazy, and it brought with it a lot of learning. There’s been specific questions on my mind recently, which are: What did it mean? How, specifically, did it change me? What can be applied from those lessons? It’s easy to look back on 2013 and come up with attempted half-answers that are loose, vague and un-actionable. But there’s also real, actionable, tangible stuff that I would not be aware of were it not for last year. Some of the main lessons that I took away from the year of living on a bike are:

Stop Being Intimidated

Intimidation is in our mind. Obviously there’s times when there’s good reason to be hesitant and nervous, but so often those moments are fabricated within ourselves and by missing out on the things that intimidate us, we miss out on great, unforgettable experiences. It’s a disservice. The things that scare us are those we should face in order to grow. Finding a way to turn the anxiety into excitement is a massive game-changer.

Don’t Stop

Grit beats skill. Determination and stubbornness beats experience. Literally and metaphorically, it’s really easy to bike a long way – you just have to keep going and eventually, lo and behold, you end up in the right place. But more generally, it’s the number one lesson I took away from talking to people like John and Martha. Keeping going is the easiest way to make something happen.

Build a Routine

If you wake up and think “I’ve gotta ride today”, then you’ll probably fail. But if you wake up, know that the bike ride is part of the routine, and think about how – even though it might not be that fun setting off into the cold or the dark – by the end of the ride you’ll be refreshed and loving it, then suddenly it sounds much more tempting. The way we frame things in our minds affects our chances of success.

Roll With The Punches

Sh*t is probably going to go wrong. Whether that’s a puncture, a snapped chain, or a run of bad luck in life. It sucks but it’s already happened and time machines aren’t real yet (maybe 2015). Move on and work it out – the process of working it out will probably be intrinsically worthwhile and may lead to a hidden gain.

Set Ridiculous Goals

Most people set goals that are based on past experience, and on what they know will be a guaranteed success. Setting moonshot goals, that seem so far removed from something you have experience of, is a great way to learn quickly by default and do something that might shock you. Diving in at the deep end, acknowledging that you don’t know it all, and being cool with that can be a valid approach.

With the festive season, some of those have fallen by the wayside recently, but with 2014 acting as an incentive, it’s time to implement these lessons and embrace the future. What can be done in 365 days?

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AN EXERCISE: FOUR WORDS

If you had to base the next 365 days on four words, what would they be? Chris Brogan posted recently about taking three words and using them as a central focus for goal-setting the coming year. Not enough range, buddy. Settling on four instead, it was fun to think about which words to choose, and which areas to step into the new year with. Give it a try! In the end, an in no particular order, these four came to mind:

Consistent. Adventurous. Build. Adapt.

Consistent – Blogging and building a great site relies on consistency. Specifically with this site, the aim is to press the publish button consistently, every couple of weeks or so. Simple really.

Adventurous – Last year was epic in so many ways, and experiencing that kind of lifestyle has shifted my values and mindset dramatically. It’s an aim for this year to contain more adventures, and for that type of learning to continue for the foreseeable.

Build – Disposable things aren’t appealing anymore. I’d love to use this year to build the foundations for a committed future (relationships, business, adventures, lifestyle etc).

Adapt – Tom from Tomsbiketrip recently published a new post and a sentence grabbed me. “There is sometimes — not always, but sometimes — an air of desperation around ‘post-trip’ blogs.”

It’s totally true, it happens all the time, and it’s something that’s been on my mind for a while. There’s going to be a pivot in the coming months on VagueDirection.com which will highlight some adventurous content that isn’t directly connected to last years ride or even cycling. It will introduce you guys to some fascinating people and their stories, which I hope will inspire, amuse, teach, shock and maybe even move you. Adapting beats going stale.

So that’s my four words. What are yours? It’d be awesome to discover what you’re aiming for in 2014, what adventures the year has in store, and which words you’ll focus on this year. Let me know in the comments down there ↓

Happy New Year!

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Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Philosophy

The Phrase ‘Real Life’

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It’s been over three weeks now since finishing cycling. I thought things would settle down fast, yet the post-ride days have been manic with no slowing down whatsoever.

After the last blog, a few people who’d done big trips got in touch with a warning that adjusting to ‘real life’ would be difficult, but having just finished at that point I brushed it off thinking it would be totally fine. It’s not like I’d been cut off in the Amazon Rainforest – why would it be hard to adjust? 

Thinking it would be a smooth re-entry couldn’t have been more wrong.

When I pedaled onto the bridge to New York, the final city, I was psyched. Psyched that the trip had come full circle. What a feeling – the goal that at first seemed a bit ridiculous came off. And what a relief – a little bit of normality could ensue. Settling sounded great, and for once I was ready to embrace it.

Then New York was, well it was New York. The busiest place in North America overrides the senses and the mind. Millions of people, traffic, noise. I’m fond of that place, but after a few days there I had a realisation that this wasn’t simply another city that I’d become adept at ‘just passing through’, rather it marked the end of the previous year and with it a completely unique way of living had stopped too. That was like a metaphorical sledgehammer to the face. Smashing.

There was a mental conflict. Between stress and simplicity, and reality and over-ambition. Life on a bike is not stress-free by any means, but it is simple. You’re on your own for the most part. Inevitably that means a lot of time in your own head, with nothing but your own thoughts (or very loud music in an attempt to drown them). You don’t have many choices to make or people to answer to. Decision making is often selfish and it’s easy.

It’s a blessing and a curse. Being solo has a strange effect on idea-generation and confidence. It’s not like a brainstorming session where everyone throws their hat in the ring. There is no risk of mediocritising your own thoughts by watering them down through a but-they-mean-well people filter. There’s no pessimism. The ideas, the motivations, the next moves are all 100% pure.

But here’s the conflict – maybe that purity leads to a false sense of how realistic, or valid, those thoughts actually are. They are untreated, untested, without feedback. To get a true sense of how realistic they are, we need feedback. It’s there to lead to things that are at least a bit grounded and semi-achievable. Is realism the enemy of optimism?

On the trip, and especially when reaching the wonderfully awesome ‘zone’ – that place where hours of pedalling puts you into a meditation-like state – creativity and clarity flowed. Next steps seemed obvious. Projects were formed. It felt possible that single-handedly, mountains would be moved and maybe, at last, a secure horizon wasn’t far away. But a week or so after finishing – all goals, all creative thoughts, all positive thinking, halted. I hit a wall. Unable to concentrate. Unable to make stuff. Unable to have decent conversations. Unable to follow up on those ambitious ideas. After such an epic time away that had ended in being glad to make a dent in ‘real life’, what had gone wrong?

In the two weeks following the final day of riding, I began questioning how removed from reality some of the next moves generated on the trip might have been. And I couldn’t stand that. Being conscious of the realisation that maybe all the ideas, the concepts, the guarantees, were nice in theory but potentially worth little.

So I ran in an effort to ignore it. Screw reality. For a while it seemed like the best thing to do was to keep moving, stubbornly grasping on to the ways picked up over the previous year, forming new ideas and ignoring the potential that they might merely be worthy of getting knocked over. I landed back in the UK and spent a week bouncing around, not doing much staying still, and then at the drop of a hat took 4 days’ work in Chile. What an odd thing – to wake up in South America after only just finishing in North America and only just touching down in England. Was taking that gig a way of escaping? Of easing, or putting off the transition from the momentum of perpetual movement to something slower? In hindsight I think it was. Being on the run and striving for intentional discomfort, felt more comfortable than staying still did.

Upon hearing about the bumpy transitions back to normality that others had experienced, I thought it would be nothing, but now the opposite seems obvious. Of course there’ll be transition pains. How would there not be after last year?

In these most recent days, a desire to stay put for a little while has become appealing. To embrace the long-forgotten noise and bustle of normality and to remember how to crack the productivity puzzle in conditions that unlike ‘the zone’, don’t make it as easy. Day by day the transition glitches are getting less. It’s been a while now but finally the better ideas, and next moves are rising to the top of the pile. They’re surviving feedback and getting stronger, and the pieces of the puzzle seem less scattered than just a fortnight ago. One of the things that has survived intact is making something epic from the stories collected over the trip, and those wheels are now starting to turn which is exciting.

The phrase ‘real life’ is as vague as ever, but it’s certainly providing an adjustment.

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p.s. this road bike video has just dropped today – it’s the most epic thing you’ll watch all year.

Categories
Adventure Bicycle Travel Philosophy

Moving The World?

Last week I drafted a post that talked about how contentment and future questions and all that stuff was on hold as with only a couple weeks left everything was simple – there was only one thing left to do. Then I backtracked because approaching the finish, doubts and questions are actually churning away more than they ever have. This is one of those posts where I held off and held off and didn’t push the button. Wasn’t sure why. Then this video came along ↧ (link), and Neil Gaiman sums up the fear:

Neil Gaiman Addresses the University of the Arts Class of 2012 from The University of the Arts (Phl) on Vimeo.

“The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you’re walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself. That’s the moment you may be starting to get it right.”

So let’s try it.

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“It reaffirmed that I could do anything I put my 100 percent effort into. When I got back, I felt like I could move the world.”

I read this article months ago straight after finishing the section from Florida to California. It’s about Jackie Loza’s ride down the West Coast of the US. She was let go from her job and her trip was a way to figure out the next move.* And because of that it was more than a bike trip – it was a time that real decisions were made. Decisions that influenced where she is right now.

After the ride she described feeling like she could “move the world”. You know when you read something or watch something or hear something and can’t get it out of your head? I’ve thought about that article ever since. Finishing the ride across the southern tier, I could totally relate to the moving the world thing. You get into trouble or have a bad day, you fix it. At the end of each day you know it’s been a good day. That adds up and over time really makes you think that much bigger things are possible and that hurdles are made for crushing.

To end the trip there maybe would have been ‘the sensible option’. It would have been a euphoric end, all highs. The cross country trip had been a success. Mountains would have been quivering at the thought of getting moved. Just kidding. But of course that stretch marked a small part of this overall journey. Reaching the Pacific, I thought – if you feel this bold / upbeat after three months, jeez, imagine what it will be like after 6 or 9. This is gonna be rad.

But it’s not like a 45 degree graph where the good keeps rising. It rose to 90 days and then the ruler stopped working or the drawer got bored and decided to start a squiggle-spree. It hits the top of the page then the bottom, bottom then top. As the weeks and months go on you go from empowerment / bring it on, to fuck this / what a loser, back to mountain moving / boulder lifting in this bizarre cycle of being confident and determined, to having no confidence and wanting to hide in a cave for 10 years, back to being stoked.

I could relate to Jackie using the trip as a vehicle to make big decisions. Over time, especially after a long day pedalling, your mind clears and you begin to slot pieces together. If I do x then maybe y will become a possibility.

In those high ‘move the world’ moments everything seems amazing, really like anything is possible. Like the cards on the table going forward shine more than they ever have before. Nothing is intimidating.

And then on the down days I’ve felt literally sick about time spent away, debt and potential irresponsibility (the trip was originally meant to be 6-9 months), and whether there were opportunities left behind. But so many of the people I’ve spoken to started by going all in and taking a shot, taking a risk in the hope that opportunities down the line would bring more value than staying still. I should remember to cling on to that.

I haven’t got the faintest idea what happens next. It’s kind of wide open. Some days that’s a scary thing, and other days it’s really invigorating, despite the questions that sometimes kick in.

But we all have doubts – whether what we’re doing is what we should really be doing. That’s natural. And those questions are good, because they make you think and possibly change.

The cliche’s are true – journeys like this do open your eyes. In tough ways and in the best ways.

My head’s all over the place at the moment, processing the end of a bizarre year. How squiggly can a graph get in five days?

Today, the thought of finishing this thing is strangely nerve wracking. There’s an anxiety there for sure.

Tomorrow might be completely different – it has a tendency to be. Holla’ at ya from NYC. Here we go. [UPDATE: THE TRIP IS COMPLETE!]

* “Overall, people who do these trips are people who are at a turning point in their lives. Or, they have a lot of spare time, which usually means one thing… They are involved in some challenge in their lives that they want to overcome… When I look at the last few years, I’ve heard stories of people’s trials and tribulations, of people reinventing themselves.” Winona Bateman, of the Adventure Cycling Association.

** Wanna shoot the S about work/projects/publishing?

Categories
Philosophy

Ambition & Choosing Something Sufficiently Epic.

There have been a few of moments on this trip of mental battles between having a goal versus being content in the present. Some research says that having goals means you’re more likely to be unhappy (thanks to Jim for pointing this out), whereas other research says goals encourage happiness.

A week or so ago I locked up the bike in a Winnipeg basement and was invited to Silicon Valley for a couple of days for the Evernote Conference, and there was a moment that came close to nailing one side of the goal/contentment dilemma on the head. A point that applied to something much wider than the technology context it was set within. It was about being driven by a grand, epic mission.

For reference, watch this recent video of Louis C.K. talking about emptiness. Louis talks about a moment when he realised he has a massive empty feeling inside. Forever empty – a moment of realisation that, really, we’re all alone and this life doesn’t really mean anything, because we’ll be gone soon. Louis is hilarious and it’s obviously lighthearted and comedy, but kind of gets to something heavy and depressing in parts too.

At the event, Evernote’s CEO Phil Libin talked about what his fuel is. What gets him out of bed in the morning and provides focus, motivation and drive. And it’s the polar opposite of Louis‘ thoughts. He expressed the view that there’s no reason to have that emptiness if you choose a mission that’s sufficiently epic. You never have to be forever empty if you’re confident that you’re on the path to making a sufficient dent.

His specific example of epic was the company motto – helping everyone “remember everything”. Of course an epic mission doesn’t have to mean a goal of ubiquity, but it’s impossible to argue that a hundred year plan that strives to reach everyone is anything short of epic.

An ambitious mission potentially keeps us hungry, humble, and improving, because it’s not going to be finished anytime soon, we’re always learning, and we have to get better to have any kind of chance.  For the above example, there’s 75 million people using the app. Sounds like a lot, but put it in context of the mission, and it’s really small – there’s 6.9 billion people who haven’t been reached. Suddenly it seems there’s a hell of a lot of work to do. And that’s awesome, because having such a huge goal can bring a team together, trickle and permeate through a culture, is a driver of progress and a provider of fire. There’s work to do, and it’s not going to be done for a long, long time.

Possibly most of us could learn from this kind of ambitious thinking if we experience Louis-type emptiness. Maybe we should stop putting off the epic things because they’re hard, and consider them because they’re hard.

Look at some notoriously difficult missions – from the D-Day Landings, to reaching product ubiquity, to walking on the moon. These kind of missions don’t always work, and there’s bound to be a lot of grand goals that failed which we never heard about, but the ambitious ones – the ones that appear nearly impossibly out of reach – are the same ones that do become meaningful. They’re the ones that make a dent and change how we do things.

Perhaps having an epic mission should be as much a personal driver as a company one. But one that isn’t a project but an overall outlook that takes time. Having no goals seems like a copout, but maybe total achievement of the goal isn’t actually the most important part – rather it’s what we get from working towards it. Either way, doesn’t it seem like something is broken if we stop being ambitious?

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Vague Direction People: Sierra Noble [music maker]

‘Sup from Winnipeg!

“I guess I went through a little bit of a period when I was younger of wishing that I could have had a normal teenage life. Which I didn’t have at all because I was on tour all the time. But that was my normal, and looking back on it, I wouldn’t trade a single thing to go to one party on a weekend.”

Sierra Noble is a singer-songwriter from Winnipeg and one of Canada’s leading fiddle players. On Saturday in the city centre, she was headlining the Concert For Peace – which is based around the UN’s International Day of Peace.

We caught up on the streets of her hometown before the show (and during) to record a live gritty session and chat about her path into music, growing up on the road, finding inspiration, ignoring haters, and the lessons she’s picked up along the way. Wicked fun. Got 5 minutes? It was a blast to make.

Here’s the direct YouTube link. You can keep up with Sierra and listen to more at www.sierranoble.ca.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Vague Direction People: Samira Mostofi

Why choose a risky, insecure and in-no-way-guaranteed path when there’s a safe and obvious one staring right at us? That’s a question that we all deal with in some form when making our own big decisions.

Samira is a kickass photographer and movie assistant, and it was only after realising that making movies was an actual job that real people do, that she transitioned away from the relatively safe path of becoming a lawyer, to a riskier one chasing a long lost dream of making movies.

This is a small segment from some footage that was shot earlier in the year, just a quick edit of some of the raw convo, where Samira has tons of actionable and inspiring points that apply to everyone about overcoming intimidation, taking a leap, ignoring reality and leveraging the positives of rejection.

Sidenote: Speaking of photography, if you have a few minutes and want to be inspired, take a look at these.

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Interviews Philosophy

Vague Direction People: Tim Koslo

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This weekend it was the close of the Edmonton Fringe Festival, so the south side of the city was bustling with street performers / singers / comedians / artists. Quite a culture shock from the recent remote weeks and it did take a little adapting to, but there’s some amazing acts (one of my favourites was from Maggie, an elderly lady who told me a poem about how she genuinely thinks we’re all from the moon), and it’s a very inviting atmosphere.


Whilst pottering about for a day, I bumped into Tim Koslo who was selling T-shirts on the street. He sells his work during the summer and is a standup comedian throughout the rest of the year. It became obvious fairly soon into talking to him, that like Brad, he’d been through more than his fair share of tough times, battling with addiction as a young adult.

Tim was open to talking about his struggles, so the conversation ended up being steered down a rabbit hole of addiction, recovery, complacency, finding what your calling is and how focusing on that can, as a convenient by-product, fix the other problems in life.

We can get caught up in the best way to do something most effectively, with the least resistance, the biggest impact and the loudest noise, but time and time again it seems like the most important and longest lasting changes come about simply by making the decision to just start.

Hope you enjoy this quick snippet video:

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Adventure Bicycle Travel Philosophy

Reality and Covering It Up

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To post or not to post? I read my pal Andy’s blog post and could relate – it acted as a catalyst and a realisation that, for the last month or so, the content that has been published on this blog has been covering up the reality to avoid negativity. It’s easier to be positive if you just focus on what’s been happening in front of your eyes instead of behind them. And who wants to read a negative post, really? There’s enough negativity in the world without yet another blog joining the bandwagon. But covering up the truth in fake positivity is  disengaging and it’s see-through. And maybe writing this stuff down will be therapeutic.

There’s been emails from people saying things like “Savour every moment”, and “You’re living my dream!”. And I just think about how ghetto it is, or the hour every night spent finding a place to sleep. Waking up in lay-by’s and carparks day after day, week after week, is not something to savour.

It isn’t glamorous, and there are times when I sit on the grass in the morning, looking at the bike with resentment. Why did I sign up for this?

In retrospect I’ll look back on this as ‘living the dream’, for sure. There are times now that I look back on with such fondness. It’s been one of the best periods of my life. No doubt. A bike ride across a continent and a trip that has brought me together with people who I’ve looked up to and taken inspiration from for years. Pinch-me, how-on-earth-did-this-happen moments.

But it can be so draining, demoralising and depressing, even when you’re in the most amazing areas. And there’s times when I think about those emails and think, it should be them doing this, not me. I’m a fraud and they’re not. They’d wake up stoked about pedaling all day, whereas I go through phases of waking up with dread. What’s the point in yet more days in the saddle? The tough parts are pedaling every day to get anywhere, and having to find a new place to sleep, dry out, wash and escape the rain, every single day. That quickly adds up.

I always looked at ‘adventurers’ with a hint of annoyance. They’d use terms like ‘quest’ and publish ‘memoirs’ about their time away. It would often hum of pretension and schmuck, and in more-than-a-few cases I got the feeling that their adventures were more about public speaking gigs than the actual experience. Even now, when somebody refers to themselves as an adventurer it makes me shudder. I’d read the blogs, and just didn’t buy it. Wasn’t this just hyperbole designed to appeal to a reality TV audience who didn’t know any better?

They’d talk about how mentally tough it had been, and I’d think, hang on a minute, you’re rowing across an ocean in a boat with a Sat Phone and pinpoint navigation, all you do is row, it can’t be that hard. Get-bloody-on-with-it or stop complaining and quit if you don’t want to be there.

The real adventurers were those who operated under the radar – they’d sail to uncharted lands at a time before GPS, flares and helicopter rescue, or escape from a prisoner of war camp and walk for a year through the jungle, battling anacondas and avoiding the arrows of tribesmen. The explorers who fought pirates with swords. They were heroes, rather than self-branded, media-savvy “adventurers”. And they got on with it rather than purposefully trying to grow an audience by telling everyone how epic it was. I thought that in a modern and connected world, adventure was nearly impossible to find.

And then I set off on this trip and my opinion didn’t change. If anything it was reinforced for the first few months. It wasn’t hard. It was sore but never unbearable. You’re connected almost everywhere. And then after a while, slowly my opinion did start to change.

It’s not the physical side that makes a hardcore adventure. You don’t have to walk through the jungle for 18 months or fight pirates. It’s 100% mental and unique to each person. It’s the toll of time, not the toll on your body. Overcoming the demons that grow in your head and scream at you to stop. It’s like athleticism in that respect. It’s arduous. The best athletes are the ones who do their time, push through it and put in the 10,000 hours. Results don’t come from a single race. But committing to that time is an intimidating thing, even after nine months.

My subconcious constantly asks “what’s the point of what you’re doing?” It’s ignoring that question, or trying to answer it, that’s challenging. It’s keeping going.

It’s this weird way of life where nothing is moderate. It’s great or it’s shit. Rarely it’s in between. Honestly, there’s no place I’d rather be most of the time. I feel a sick and twisted attraction to the mental game. But at the same time, sometimes it’s the polar opposite of enjoyable. That’s strange and full of hypocrisies, I know, but it seems to be the curse of movement, the road, and living a stripped down life that at the moment is literally strapped to a set of wheels. There are no sides – I love it and hate it at the same time.

This project has totally changed how I view adventure – it is real. And if it is mental, then this is most certainly a really wild adventure. But it’s still not a quest, ok?