June 20, 2011

Life in the slow lane

“Some like the fast pace, the maddening crowd
Running the rat race, living life out loud
I’ve been there and done that, didn’t do the trick
Life in the slow lane’s such a kick.”
(Music and lyrics by Rossen/Scharf)

I was out of town, working out of town.
Down by Bay of Quinte. Around there, anyway.
Doing finance stuff, policy stuff.

Came back last night, on a four lane highway.
Then, had enough, took an off-ramp
Got right off.
And back roads all the way home
Just me and my roadster.

Sometimes all you need is a sunny afternoon, two empty lanes, and a roadster (optional).

Life in the slow lane (literally and figuratively).
That’s how I go.

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September 20, 2010

Pursue passion. Start now.

A short post. Succinct. To the point.
All because there’s but one thing I want to emphasize.


You’re going to spend 7 or more hours each and every day doing some kind of work. (7 hours a day works out to 35 or more hours a week, 152 or more hours a month, and more than 1800 hours a year) .

Seven hours a day works out to 33% of your waking hours—that’s one third of your life! One third of your life doing some kind of work.

If you’re going to spend that much time at work.
Wouldn’t it make sense to make sure you’re enjoying that work?

Please. Pursue your passion. And make that passion your work, your livelihood, your career.
Because if you turn your passion into your work.
Then you’ll turn your work into play.
It’s pretty easy.
Pursue passion. Start now.
It’s the only way to play,
This game called life.

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September 13, 2010

The fallacy of more

Do you remember Easter morning, years ago, and you’re taking a bite—eager and impatient—of your first chocolate treat of the morning?
Remember how great it tasted?
So great, in fact, that you had to take a second, and then a third bite.
And, with your parents’ warnings nothing more than incoherent noise, you couldn’t stop from eating just a bit more, and a bit more again until—well, you know—there was precious little chocolate left.
Only later, of course, did the aftereffect of your voracity kick in.
The stomachache, the nausea…

It’s a habit based on a premise.
A premise that says, if no chocolate is a bad thing, and some chocolate is a good thing,
Then a lot of chocolate has got to be fanbloodytastic.
It’s a premise, of course. A false one, you know.
It’s a premise I call the fallacy of more

We don’t outgrow it either.
It starts with chocolate and candy, progresses to chips and corn dogs, and graduates to beer and cheap wine.
And then it gets bigger.

It gets bigger in the following sense,
It gets bigger in the way view money;
The way we use the same fallacy of more thinking when it comes to money;
The same thinking that believes; because no money is bad, and some is good, then…
A lot of money must be incredibly, delicously, better-than-chocolatey good

But here’s the thing.
While many of us might have experienced that cursed chocolate-bunny hangover, and thus be willing to accept that a whole pile of chocolate might not be such a great idea,
Not many of us have can claim to know what a whole pile of money feels like.
And so the fallacy perpetuates.

You’re laughing, I know you are.
You’re thinking that chocolate is one thing, but money, well that’s another thing altogether.
You’re thinking, come on, there’s no such thing as too much money.

Well then, if that’s what you’re thinking, do me a favour…
Try this little experiment.

Think back to a moment when you were happiest.
Close your eyes, in fact, and try to relive the experience of that moment
Try recreating it as vividly as you can.
Try to hear what you were hearing, see what you were seeing, and feel what you were feeling.

Go ahead, take a minute and relive the experience.
Then once you’re done, come back and read the rest of this post.

You’re back? Great!
What memory did you relive?
Was it your wedding day?
Was it the birth of your son or daughter?
Was it a simple gathering of family members or lifelong friends?
Or was it the memory of doing something you truly enjoy—gardening perhaps. Or canoeing. Or strolling along a beach, or hiking through an autumn forest, with all those luscious and vibrant colours?

Many people tell me it’s the little things that trigger the most happiness.
It’s the quiet moments of reflection.
It’s the soft, secretive chuckles between two close friends
It’s a hot chocolate on a cold morning.
It’s all those things, those oh-so-easily-forgotten little things that contribute to a big life, to a wonderful life worth living.

So, here’s something you might try.

Make a list of:
1) The things you most love doing;
2) The people whose company you most enjoy;
3) The locations that most inspire you (a city, a park, maybe even a café);
4) The little things that most comfort you (a hug, a song, the smell of a camp fire).

And save that list. Carry it with you. Look at it every day, and ask yourself, How can I experience more of that? Ask yourself, What’s preventing me from experiencing more of that?
And what you may find is that…
What’s preventing you from experiencing true happiness is your unspoken belief that ever-more money is what you need.
What you may find, in fact, is that…
While it’s true that having no money is a bad thing,  and having some money is good thing…
Maybe it’s better to just stop there.
Maybe it’s better to, quite simply, leave it at that.

And then…
Maybe you can start enjoying your life.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

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September 7, 2010

Sell it

I’m selling stuff.
I’m selling this.  And this. And this.
If you’re arriving at conclusions about any creeping impoverishment on my part,

Forget it.

Because it’s not about being broke.
No no, not that at all.
In fact, it’s not that I need more money. It is, rather, that I need less stuff.

Someone once said, you don’t own things, they own you.
I’ll let you decide whether that expression is an unfortunate cliché—or not.
What I do know though; is that it’s true.
It’s true in the following sense. When I dispose of things (which has been something of a habit these last few months) I’m immediately less weighed down—I have less to take care of, less to maintain, less to store,  to repair, and to insure.
When I get rid of something, I shed poundage, I feel lighter.
I suddenly walk more freely, my footprint making a smaller imprint—less of an impression.
And I like the thought of it.

There’s a movement building. It’s called minimalism. And it’s touted—with gusto—by many, right here on the web.
While I approve of the minimalist notion, I challenge—moderately—one of its tenets; the one that says try to live with less than 100 possessions.
You see, while the idea is admirable—whimsical even—its practice leaves much to interpretation—do we include all the silverware as one of the 100 possessions or do we have to count each fork and spoon individually?
But, that aside, I applaud the idea. If, for no other reason than it provides a sanity-check, a refreshing rethink, of the buy-buy-buy marketing messages we all hear much too often.

But, I have another reason for thumbing-up minimalism.
The reason is this; it’s not an original idea.
It took root elsewhere.

If you know your Thoreau, you will, no doubt, know this;  Simplicity, Simplicity, Simplicity.
The complete quote, by the way, is; “Simplicity,  Simplicity, Simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million, count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail.”
Minimalism. No?

It’s like rock n’ roll—or the blues—isn’t it?  Just as Charlie Patton influenced Robert Johnson, who influenced Howlin’ Wolf, who then, in turn, begat Eric Clapton and the Rolling Stones, so can minimalism be traced back to Thoreau.  And, who knows, perhaps to someone before Thoreau himself.

But here’s the point.
As with minimalism, which troubles me with its hard-and-fast 100-item limit,  I’m troubled—to an extent—by Thoreau’s call-to-arms, which is, on the other hand, much too vague.

And besides minimalism and simplicity, to me, are not the objectives.
To me, they are individual (and important) strategies toward a Net Present Value lifestyle.
And… If you find common ground with my position, you might, then, find advantage in this guideline; in this Net Present Value Outline for getting rid of stuff.

The Net Present Value Parameters for Getting Rid of Stuff

Utility

If you don’t use something at least monthly, do you really need it? Look around your home, take stock of what’s there. How often do you use all of what you see there? Do you truly need that second computer? That other camera? The other golf clubs? Or, as in my case, that extra car?

Meaningfulness

It may have seemed like a great idea when you bought them, but do those keepsakes mean anything now? The artwork, the stamp collection, the baseball cards, the full-size mockup of Darth Vader; do they still move you? Do you still get tingly when you see them—do they touch a nerve? Or has is it all, long ago, been relegated to the category of just stuff? If so, pass it on. Let someone else get tingly over it.

Purpose

Does that carbon-fibre bicycle define you? Is it who you are? Do you really need PhotoShop CS5? Does it have purpose in how you live your life? That garage full of power tools; is that how you make your living? Or hope to make it?
If not, why do you need them? What purpose does all that serve?
One of the guitars I’m selling, I had an under-saddle piezo pickup installed. I needed it—so I rationalized—to jam with other players, or to play onstage in pubs. Well, I don’t do any of that anymore, so the pretty-cool-guitar-with-an-under-saddle-pickup doesn’t really have a purpose anymore. Time to move it on.

Ego

Think yourself tough? Tough enough to not need your ego stroked? Think about it, how many items do you possess that are there just to make you look cool? That double-neck guitar, the one that lets you nail those Jimmy-Page-chops on Stairway to Heaven; do you ever play it? Really play it? Or does it just make you look good? What about the low-slung sports car; how often does it see the light of day? Do you enjoy driving it? Or is it cramped, uncomfortable and loud? If it’s about purpose and meaningfulness, keep it. If it’s about ego, paste a For Sale sign on it.

Doing as opposed to having

This will come with practice. Because it’s only once you start getting rid of stuff, that you realize you never really needed it. Once you get rid of stuff, you tend to not to miss any of it. It may seem a contradiction but the truth is, once you get rid of stuff, you start to see you’re free to do more.
When you’re dragging (literally and figuratively) less possessions behind you, you start finding the time to do what you love, stuff that defines you, stuff that is meaningful, and stuff that makes you jump out of bed in the morning, eager to start your day. And that’s one of the biggest buzzes you’ll get—it’s a buzz that comes from living a Net Present Value lifestyle.

Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave a comment.

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