Morning Pages

I'm learning to relax.

Here in Portland, we have an abundance of cafes serving some of the best coffee in the country. As a single man living alone with disposable income and a computer-based career that goes wherever I want, I frequently find myself in cafes during the week to escape the monotony of my home offce. But I've realized, in the past few months, the novelty has worn off and it's become more a compulsive habit to leave the house to work than a premeditated occasional treat.

By the end of the traditional 9-5 workday, I'm an exhausted mess. I've spent a fair bit of time unnecessarily commuting between coffee shops and paying their rent getting grossly overcaffienated. And, simultaneously, I recognize that when I'm at cafes, allegedly to escape the lonely monotony of my apartment, I don't tend to engage with others on account of being immersed in my work.

I'm resigning to change this behavior, starting this week. I'm going to try not going to cafes to work anymore, at all. Working from coffee shops has been a part of my identity since I was in college. I wonder what miracles lie on the other side.

I'm learning to relax.

I'm sitting working on my computer in a cafe. There's an old man, perhaps 75 years, sitting at an adjacent table. He wears a beige cardigan and dons a white beard on his otherwise bald head. His glasses are delicate and he leans an intricately carved cane against the table.

I spend so much time in cafes—hours per day—but rarely stop to think what will become or where I'll end up. I'm generally self-absorbed, wondering when I'll find a lover or a new career or a shimmer of elation in a sea of confusion. But, at the end of all of it, we're all alone. The man sitting alone at the cafe.

If only we realized sooner that all our attachments and confusion and jealousy and emotion and everything we experience every single day will one day inevitably and quietly ... end.

You've probably heard of new age ideas like the Law of Attraction, books like Think and Grow Rich, and movies like The Secret and What the Bleep Do We Know?. All of them share a common idea: That what we think inevitably becomes our reality.

We all know from experience that wishing an outcome into existence doesn't bring about the outcome. Who hasn't wished for more money, a new and lovely partner, or a more fit body? And who hasn't been disappointed when nature didn't deliver?

But I'd like to posit that although the Law of Attraction can be interpreted as new age hullabaloo, there is a grain of truth in the idea that is nearly as powerful if applied.

While our beliefs don't shape results directly, they do have a substantial effect on the action we take toward our desired results. If you believe you'll succeed, you're more likely to spend the time and energy required for success than if you believe you'll fail.

And at every step along our path toward our goal, we'll be confronted with bits of feedback which will further inform our belief. Progress strengthens our positive beliefs about our ability to succeed, which breeds more constructive action, which brings about more success.

So, will sitting around dreaming of a new lover who is yet to manifest bring them knocking on your apartment door? Probably not. But believing your dream can manifest means you're likely to hold yourself in higher regard, take the steps you need to get there, and ultimately find yourself in a scenario closer to where you want to be.

I've been thinking carefully about the meaning of life.

It's a tried concept that there's some inherent meaning to our daily existence. At one end of the spectrum of the discussion there's religious piety. At the other, nihilism.

I've heard the meaning of life is to be happy. To help others. To exist peacefully. These are platitudes that offer no tangible behavior prescriptions.

Instead,

You might say the meaning of life is to be happy. To act according to a set of virtues

With historic wildfires raging across the American West and back-to-back historic hurricanes in the Atlantic, I'm left panicking at the prospect of facing once-in-a-lifetime weather events every year.

But I do realize that, despite the hellish reality we face, there are opportunities for adaptation.

I have a penchant for whimsically leaving the house without cause.

Working remotely, I have the freedom to remain in the comfort of my home for as long as I like. For whatever reason, that's typically only a couple hours.

Today I'm setting the intention to occupy myself here, at home, for the duration of the day. I want to practice disciplining myself to remain in my office, for sake of improving both my productivity as well as my mindful awareness.

I was reading from the book Full Catastrophe Living over the weekend. There was a particular passage about examining the richness in every moment, no matter how mundane the moment might seem.

Of all disciplines subject to needless hurrying, computing is probably the worst. There's a tendency to attempt to complete every task in as little time as possible, without regard for the beauty of the moments during which we're acting.

I wonder whether this tendency of mine to move quickly is a fear that I'll be outmatched by one of my peers. That, if only I go faster, I can hope to retain my position among them.

Slow down. Take inventory of the task. Breathe. Enjoy the process.

The rent is too damn high.

Especially here in Oregon. In Portland, rents were up 34% as of 2016.

Because of this, I've spent a disproportionate amount of my time contemplating whether I should buy a house to insulate my family from the threat of ever-increasing rents.

I called a mortgage broker. I surveyed the local real estate market here in Eugene. There are 1200 square foot houses with list prices greater than $300,000. And don't even ask about Portland, where I could barely afford a shoebox condo next to a freeway.

After seeing the San Francisco Bay Area become unaffordable even for the upper middle class, it's scary to imagine Oregon ending up in the same situation.

But then I realized something.

I don't want to own a house. Ever.

The only reason I want a house is to hedge against rising rents. I don't want to spend my weekends at Home Depot. I don't want to remodel a kitchen. And I really don't want to sink a ton of money into a house.

I like to move around. I like to live nimbly. To know I can call my landlord, pay a lease break fee, and be free to do anything I want.

A house is a prison. At least, for me. It might be a great investment for you. But I'd rather live in a micro-studio for the rest of my life than be stuck because I was afraid of rising rents.

For the past few years I've been frantically saving and investing money.

I feel fortunate that my skills are in demand and permit me to invest a large percentage of my income while still enjoying a pleasant existence today.

But despite this, I find myself feeling insignificant, and blaming the balance of my investment account for my malcontent.

Reading this interview with Derek Sivers made me realize that while owning a nice pile of stocks and bonds makes me feel more financially secure, it will never make me feel more emotionally or spiritually secure.

In the absence of conspicuous consumption and overindulgence, I will not suddenly feel connected to others. I will not, by virtue of my frugality, be generous and noble.

The only way to feel connected and generous is to do generous deeds and to connect with others.

I don't ever want to forget why.

There are so many layers in what I do. From the sales process to the technical work to the administrative work.

It's easy to get caught in a cycle of continuing to do what you've always done without looking up from your work.

It's easy to forget that all this work is a means toward an end and not the end itself.

The end is my family.

The end is a cup of coffee enjoyed in tranquility on my porch.

The end is the cool breeze as I ride my bicycle along the river.

I want to serve others. But I'll serve them better if I serve myself.

Integrity is a virtue.

There are a million ways to make your website convert better. But some of them abuse the visitor and dangle carrots that don't help them.

I can't remember the last time I saw an on-exit popup that made me smile.

It's easy to make a living selling the idea of becoming rich or famous and then not deliver.

It's harder to make a living encouraging someone to do their best and genuinely help them get as far as they can.

I don't want to sell shovels to miners. My vow to my clients is simple: I will always act in your best interest.

Do you ever find yourself involuntarily trending toward making life more difficult than it need be? To crave change and excitement—the very same that you were trying to eradicate through the simplicity and calm you now inhabit?

I've felt that way recently. A drive to shake things up for the sake of shaking them up. Funny though; where I am now was a dream only a year ago.

It pays to reflect on our journey occasionally to recognize our progress. But fighting the urge to remain in motion is futile until we reach the grave.

The last time I went to an office was in 2007.

I remember never quite feeling at ease. Wanting to work but feeling like there was a pressure to stay for the full eight hours. Not feeling like I could go take a break to clear my mind. Subordination.

Ten years later and I've invested in working from home.

I've built myself a lovely minimalist workstation where I'm able to be productive without distractions. I work in my sweatpants and make my own lunches. I'm simultaneously productive and happy and free. This is the lifestyle that works for me.

I know I might be missing out on career opportunities because of my stubbornness to work from home, but in my view they're not worth the commutes and the feeling of entrapment.

There was an article in the New York Times yesterday about people with commutes more than 2 hours. If you work an 8-hour day and commute 4 hours per day to get there and back, that's a 33% pay cut.

My trip to Portland reminded me how city commuting can be stressful. The busyness and the sense we all have to be somewhere fast. From my perspective, we ought to spend our time figuring out how not to do that anymore.

That's why I've built my life around working remotely. And while I might turn down opportunities to grow, I know I'm in control of my own time.

I went to Portland this past weekend to attend Edward Tufte's excellent Presenting Data and Information course.

Having lived there for the better part of a decade, I've always thought of Portland as my adulthood home. A place to which I'd return someday. A place bookmarked in time.

But now I'm not so sure. The experience I had in Portland this time left my befuddled: Had Portland changed so dramatically in the three years I'd been gone, or did my own values change?

My friends there say it's probably a bit of both. I remember a Portland where ordinary people could afford to open small businesses. Now it seems as though all of those lovely local businesses are closing. I'm not opposed to change and certainly don't think preservation legislation is the answer, but it's a difficult and depressing pill to swallow.

And can we talk about the cultural shift? I don't mean to stereotype, but I'm about to. When did Portland go from a place where the punks and weirdos thrive to a place where it seems as though people go to great lengths to manicure their appearance to the point of absurdity? Was Portland always the epicenter of douchey-cool and I've just grown out of it? Or has it reached its tipping point?

I still love the Portland cityscape and don't bemoan out-of-towners who dream of moving there. One of the unique draws of city life is being surrounded by people different from you. But Portland's recent homogenization represents a shift away from that diversity. I'm not talking about racial diversity or even ethnic diversity. I mean diversity of ideas. A place where both artists and businesspeople can thrive. That's the Portland I left. And now I'm not so sure I'll go back.

Life is peaceful when there are buffers.

The time between the present moment and your next obligation is a buffer. The money in your bank account that protects you from insolvency is a buffer. Food in the pantry. The space between your neighbor's house and your own.

As I've grown older, I've noticed I want wider buffers. I'm less willing to allow them to shrink to their size ten years ago. Busyness. Brokeness. Empty pantries and tiny apartments.

Part of me misses that wild abandon. But when I sleep at night knowing there's a cushion between me and the world, I smile.

Marketing yourself sure is an anxious chore. I'm plenty qualified for all sorts of full-time jobs, but I'm resolute against taking one since I know I work best when I'm free.

What does freedom mean to me?

Freedom means the ability to wake up when my body tells me instead of when an alarm sounds its siren. It means I can take some time between clients to ride my bicycle around town casually without worrying that I need to return to the office. It means I'm not burdened by day-to-day inter-office politics. That I can provide immense value without being physically present.

But it's tough out there. Not in the economic sense; there's probably plenty of work to be done. But marketing yourself as a consultant is no easy task. Most consultants probably wouldn't admit such a thing on their website for fear of being perceived as a failure or a fake.

I'm not afraid of that because I know my value, but I am afraid of failure. I'm afraid I'll soon be applying for jobs and working 40 hours per week and giving up on this whole consulting thing for good. Which is humorous in its own way given the fact I'm nowhere near failing. But that's how fear works, isn't it?

Limiting beliefs are beliefs we hold which constrain us in some way. We define ourselves by what we do or don't do, what we can or cannot do, what we are and what we aren't.

The tech industry, with its continuous cycle of innovation, cutthroat competition, and social darwninist hierarchy, can foster some pretty sinister limiting beliefs. I struggle with them regularly and I'm sure you do too.

I'm too old. There's plenty of chatter about ageism in the tech community. As someone who's turning 32 this year, I'm fearful of it, in spite of not having experienced it. I do wonder though, whether ageism is a bogeyman insecurity that can be overcome in the minds of those affected, rather than a form of systemic oppression. It's tempting to give up on that new startup or to believe we're unable to grasp new technologies on account of our age. But the market doesn't care how old we are, truthfully.

The market is too saturated. I'm running up against this resistance right now myself. Building a consulting business is no easy task. There is plenty of advice of how best to proceed when building a consulting business, and I've learned over the past few months that it's easy to get sucked into their vortex and forget to do the work. While some of the advice is prudent to follow, most of them are just selling shovels to the miners. I'm learning that the best way to build a business is to build the business. The market doesn't care how many players are in the game. It's just a matter of standing out among them.

All the good ideas are already taken. This one is fascinating to me, but I'm still succeptible to it. Imagine someone saying this in the days before the Internet. Lawyers didn't decide not to start a law firm because there were already lawyers in the world. Dentists didn't say "Well, there are already people fixing teeth. I guess that dream is off the table." Why are we so caught up in the notion that our idea need to be original? Competitors are a sign there are people willing to pay for what we offer. It's just a matter of providing more value than they do.

I'm writing this as a gentle reminder to myself: There's abundant opportunity for thoughtful and innovative people. It's just a matter of training our minds to open.

I'm noticing a trend as I'm bootstrapping my consulting business. There are plenty of awesome software development gigs, but most of them are full-time positions.

I have nothing against full-time positions; they're great for people who enjoy capturing a regular paycheck each month and don't like the sales process. But I'm not sure I understand how hiring full-time staff benefits the employer, especially in terms of cost benefit relative to hiring results-oriented consultants to complete the same work.

Employees are paid for their time. No matter the enriching culture you provide them internally, they have little incentive to be efficient aside from the possibility they'll lose their job. Most employees do want the best for their company, but their principal concern is the livelihood of their families and their ability to live life on their own terms. Paying an employee's salary for a year does not translate into results for the business. I've spent months as an employee working on projects which never made the company a dime because they were ill-conceived from the start. I got paid and the company got nothing.

Consultants charge for the outcomes they produce. If you need a new user interface for your web application, I'm going to spend a fair amount of time asking you why you need it. I'm going to dig deep into how such a move could improve your business fundamentals. I'm going to ask you difficult questions that have more to do with sales, marketing, and users than technology, infrastructure, or design.

When I send you an invoice, I'm going to tell you exactly the results you paid for. If you're not satisfied, you'll get your money back.

Feeling pressure to keep your team members employed because you know they rely on you for paying their rent? Hire a consultant and you won't have that problem. I'm happy when you don't need me anymore. Hopefully I worked myself out of a job and you can spend the money you would have allocated to my salary on marketing to more users or innovating in other ways.

There's a stigma abound that independent consultants are hawks looking to scoop up a payday without providing real value in return. I want to debunk that myth for good. Consultants are seasoned professionals who realize they don't thrive in the employer-employee model. We want nothing more than for you to succeed and to help you find the best possible path to get there. Our business is not one of billing hours, but of optimizing costs. We charge fees not based upon the time we spend, but based upon the value we provide.