He’ll protect those who need it & empower others with his words & actions.
He won’t belittle anyone for trying & he’ll meet them where they are. He’ll know that through his actions he can make things better; for himself & those around him. He’ll have company for the lonely & time to those who need it. He’ll be strong when the room requires a presence. He’ll be soft to the lost & polite when he starts new conversations. Eager to let those who are uncomfortable, refind comfort.
My boy will treat beautiful things with wonder & interesting things with grace. He’ll make mistakes disguised as lessons. He’ll try new things.
He’ll include those who haven’t been invited & if he can spare a dollar to someone less fortunate he’ll give it with a smile. My boy will be open minded. He’ll learn that flaws won’t define him, nor will regrets. He’ll learn his way by going through. He’ll chase knowledge, knowing that it runs infinite.
My boy won’t be perfect & he won’t strive to be, he’ll be human – a generous human that leaves warmth behind him just like his mother does.
My boy will create. He’ll be encouraged to find his flow state, without judgement or interruption. My boy will find the calm in chaos & won’t let his temper prevail over his judgement. His fears won’t keep him idle.
These aren’t expectations- nor are they rules. My boy will be all of these things, many more & many less & it won’t change a thing.
He’ll go to sleep every night knowing he is loved. The rest will take care of itself.
I’ve written this many times & delayed ever completing it – to void succumbing to spite. I’ve had a tough year in some ways, & it’s cathartic to write. It’s just been hard to start talking about my first ‘big idea’ in past tense.
We so often reflect with rose coloured glasses, romanticising things to appear different than it actually was. We mask the feelings by doing so, reducing the weight of those reoccurring burdens, the questions we ask ourselves when we’re low.
I remind myself always, that value is value, regardless of price. Vincent Van Gogh said “If I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning”.
It’s easy in memory. There is no heartbreak without loyalty first.
The acceptance of the past washes the face like warm water. It’s easy to digest. It’s not easy to forgive, but accepting is peaceful. It’s quieter – which is isolating. I’ve been isolated for awhile. I feel like the sum of my parts is lost – as if holding more weight outside of myself. There are parts of me that exist, which took more than I am capable of alone.
I really grieved the end of my company, like a death. Losing the version of myself that was attached to it by default. The outlet for my ideas. The conversation starter. The proof to the outside world that I’m ‘enough‘. My entry ticket to the arts community. My ticket to more. It was hope.
I’ve seemingly trapped myself in a room with my younger self. He hates me, just as I hate others for not trying. I owe him more than what I have to show & even though I loathe the idea of giving up – I just can’t continue the way it is. It’s not serving me anymore & I’ve become more bitter than the beer.
I don’t blame him for his anger – because it’s hard to explain to youth how things change without living it first. Those same people in your favourite photos don’t hang on the wall anymore. You never see failing & when you do it’s never pretty. The beauty in struggle becomes the obituary photo. You never see past the passion. That behind it all, you can lose things you love; & maybe even parts of yourself. How it hurts to be a part of something losing. It’s hard to separate from the ideas you could only see going one way.
This isn’t a pity party. I’ll make more money. I’ll have more ideas. It’s a lesson from my time, energy & ideas that came to life. The truth without romance. The dominating part of my life for 6 years.
This has been a loss – both financially & personally. Firstly, of my first big idea that came to life. I’ve left this party with mytale between my legs. Searching for new people, or company in old friends. There just simply are more cynics than dreamers & I’ve found company in both. It’s easier to find a conversation with negativity.
When it’s over, there are signs. Ideas begin having no weight beyond seconds & minutes. Or they weigh months & years – an overwhelming task that seems exhausting to get off the ground, especially to someone in debt & with more mileage. I wanted the hard task, I chose it, but I wanted company in the journey – because when you’re by yourself, you lose the value. You even become self destructive in search of it.
I felt so worthless in this pursuit, because there was no validation along the journey. You never arrive. You become a burden to yourself, & then you become accustomed to it. Then you get desperate – which is vulnerable dialled up high. It allows you to become taken advantage of, where you become accustomed to low standards by others. I allowed others to disrespect me – or I was desperate for help & settled for what I could get. Pennies on the dollar. I don’t think I realised it even happening until it broke a barrier & I saw it appear in ways that made me question love & loyalty. It made me very self destructive, as I didn’t have anyone else to blame & the anger went inside. It even at one point became dangerous. I’ll never be in that headspace again, & the irrational version of myself will be contained. A rational headspace cannot be attained by an irrational person. There are many versions of death we don’t talk about openly- but one is of your younger self.
Disposition is important, how we see the world & not how things may be. We can choose to see the best, or the worst, or even the middle. I keep telling myself- choose your words, choose your timing, choose your battles & most importantly choose kindness. You don’t know what others are going through. The problem is, I stopped listening when the advice came to how I spoke to myself. The world sees me a certain way, & I it. I just couldn’t figure it out- in a way that worked.
I’ve tied so much of myself- at least what I like – my position in this world, my disposition, my dreams – into a vessel that didn’t get the opportunity it so clearly desired. I’m cautious to use the word ‘deserved’- because I don’t think it was. I think we are a sum of all parts- & I think it worked the way it was supposed to- even if I hate it. Why? Because it didn’t win & maybe winning wasn’t it’s purpose. It needed a village & it only got some. We can only see that in hindsight, a reflection that gets delayed by time. Feeling stuck in this position, does nothing to the impatient voice inside that criticises non-action. Non-action by a default, is an action- so the disdain begins from alternate possibilities that could’ve been, whilst standing idle. The wise man reflects to the naive version of himself, powerless to save him. The past has all the answers, the present has the problems. The future?
The reward is now in breaking free, with my tale between my legs & an ego-less approach to the world.
It has taken months to destroy all of the collateral in my house. The slowest of deaths. In December of last year I moved the entirety of the business into my home. Every fortnight of recycle bins, filled instantly, every avenue to dispose of a dream. I’ve kept so many keepsakes & put them in a box. Out of sight, out of mind. You’re impatient to get going, & even more so to remove it once you make the decision. It’s been a long funeral.
I’ve worn so many faces during this journey. Naive, confident, hopeless & hopeful. Walking this path, my ideas culminated under one. Just because I want the best for people I love, I assumed they did too. I think that’s my best quality – that I want others to succeed. But when your main company is yourself I lost that. Why? I hated myself, because I hated everyone else. I hurt thinking of those days & how hopeless they felt. I would be kinder to him now. I needed to toughen up, & not let the anger drive. One might call it, a spiritual crisis.
(I watched this movie after some hard days & it felt like he was talking to me here. I had my head on the pillow & will never forget that feeling).
Once you stop trusting yourself, you stop dreaming new ideas. They get shot down from within. Age has a funny way of winning when it comes to open mindedness. The older we get- the less we ideate, or maybe the room to ideate is smaller. But that can happen from circumstance also. It always comes from within. The inner circle, the inner monologue, the insecurities. It ultimately comes back home. Who you choose, what & why – that’s you. Who you surround yourself with. It makes the lessons more painful. But it’s a lesson we all must learn when creating. Not everyone believes, nor respects your ideas. I hope someone you love believes in you, supports you & if they don’t, it’s okay to do it without them.
“You sensed that you should be following a different path, a more ambitious one, you felt you were destined for other things but you had no idea how to achieve them and in your misery you began to hate everything around you”. – Fyodor Dostoevsky
Some look for roads to follow them & others venture off where the flowers grow. If you’re looking to grow, follow the flowers.
As someone who ties their value to the wins, this has been incredibly difficult. So I’ll keep it as short as I can, for time doesn’t favour the sorry- & misery loves ‘company’. I just wish it wasn’t mine.
The person I was & the person I am lives in the same body. That includes my younger self. He’s around. Your ideas are chosen by who’s the strongest ‘you’ at the time. YOUNGBLOOD was chosen by the younger naive version of me, & unfortunately it didn’t work. The older, wiser version knows this. They don’t have to agree. I remind myself, most ideas die. Those that live, even for a moment, are special. Some actually come to life. I’ve held those in my hands. I’ve consumed them as much as they’ve consumed me. I’ve felt their weight & they’ve supported mine.
Off the path, into the field.
What’s next?
I’ll continue to burn the leftovers of YOUNGBLOOD into the ground, & use its warmth to survive the upcoming winter. The barren, cold, powerless months of climbing out of this hole. During these months I’ll remind myself why the fire is warmest close to the flame. Crystal Ale was my Icarus.
I said my ego was destroyed a long time ago, but the truth is, it wasn’t completely. I know that now. My ego lived within the purpose of having something I was proud of next to my name. It wasn’t in my job, or my degree, or any other accolade. It was in telling company, about my company. That I was a man of action, one who would chase his dreams. Losing this has been the hardest pain I’ve dealt with, because every part of my soul doesn’t want to let it go. My brain refuses to let that position open up, & I’m trying to fill a void with no vacancy. It has a massive part of my heart inside – & it’s why my heart is broken, because the youthful dreams, present purpose & possibilities will sink with the body as it gets lowered into the past. The weight became too heavy & I need to get stronger, or better help. I’m so sorry it didn’t work out, I really did try.
I’ve enjoyed bringing YOUNGBLOOD to life & sharing it with others the most. I’ll forever be grateful for the lessons & when I have kids, I’ll tell them my story of starting a beer company. There are no excuses to not trying, because I’ve seen what trying can do. The potential & lessons will come back around. I really did love you & will miss you dearly. I never took it for granted. Thank you for the lessons, in business, dreams & finding out who’s on my side.
I’ll really miss having you around, but mostly I’ll miss how you let me think about the world.
Even if it still happens from time to time, it’s true you don’t realise when moments ‘end’. When the ‘always’ is replaced by ‘sometimes’ – soon to be ‘never’. We have so many in life. The tiny deaths of who we used to be. The moments of youth that end without goodbye. The last drunken kiss, the last uni class, the first serious job. Like with ideas, or details, they fade with time & can expire (ideas definitely do).
The youthful writer who exists within grows up. It’s a loss without grief we disguise as ‘growing up’, because the grown up has bills now. The deaths of so many interesting ‘when-I-grow-up‘s’ are replaced by regular 30 year olds who work jobs their youthful selves would’ve never chosen. We never mourn the change, the tiny death, because most of the time we’re in the same boat & it’s considered normal to concede. Most of the time.
Growing up, I had grand plans fueled by an energetic youthful romance, constantly searching for stories with love beneath the surface. Drawn to the ‘story‘, feeling like a character, searching the same trails for different results with only possibility ahead. The child playing with shells on the beach, with the boundless possibilities of the ocean right there. Happily in a relationship now, those days feel somewhat foreign – yet the romantic is still here. I don’t romanticise broken relationships, as if they were Shakespearean love tales anymore. The alternate realities used to feel possible, maybe better than what was everyday – but now those options are much less because I’m happy where I am. They sold hope to escape lonely nights or post-fight discomfort.
They don’t tell you that growing up means losing friends. On average the average male will have 3 close friends by 35, compared to 15 at 21. Most people change, & you’re likely to also.
But what if you don’t shift entirely? What if you don’t change that much?
Like 19, at 33 I’m still fundamentally the same person who feverishly avoids the mundane, unoriginal options we can fall into day-to-day. Maybe I’m avoiding ‘growing up‘. I won’t allow more than 3 days to pass before I revolt to something different. New recipes, new music, new something. I need to shock the mind by doing something unfamiliar. It used to culminate in a reaction that was energised to create something interesting, possibly littered with mistakes, drama, texts, sex (when I could get it) & hangovers. Shortly they seemingly disappeared & whilst some of these indulgences remain, they’re likely to continue leaving slowly like a bad hangover. The tiny deaths of the irrational, paving way for a new thought process.
So what happened to the energy when the romance shifted? The motive had to go somewhere, like a new addiction replacing the previous. To keep up with the threshold of ‘interesting’, the risks had to be bigger. Unlike your youth, time isn’t on your side. Responsibilities didn’t weigh as much back then, but when you age, time becomes the obstacle. The beginner at 30 is treated with skepticism, the 21 year old is simply ‘young’. I’m currently in the ‘young enough to start over, old enough to of settled down’ category. Since I have no intention of killing my attention span living online & living solely for the weekends – the challenges had to be tangible & not toying the line of fantasy from youth. Daydreaming costs time & I simply don’t want to waste it.
This path lead me to a beer business (first time I tried the beer was when it was made) & working for myself at 30 (never made that work before)- the ultimate strategy for continuous trial & error. Unpredictable, challenging, risky etc. Especially when nobody takes you seriously. 6 figures to walking dogs to pay rent. I guess I found my story.
We’ve all daydreamed lives not lived. Eye contact from the girl across the dance floor. Winning money from the lottery ticket. Picturing the perfect escape through daydreams of hope.
It’s because ‘hope’ might be the strongest drug of all.
It’s so powerful because we never see the other side of the ‘best case scenario‘. It’s perfectly untouched. We don’t dream of the rejection, the disappointment – that’s usually reserved for reasons we do innaction. With hope, we preserve the idea without breaking it. It remains possible, like Schrödinger’s cat. If you don’t open the box, whatever is inside is presumed both alive & dead. It’s potential, eternally positive, if only if it happened. Maybe it will? Ignorance is bliss, & there’s bliss in indecision. Can’t make a wrong decision if you don’t make one! Can’t stick to a plan if your plan isn’t up to you!
Those who hope could be called dreamers, yet those who live in hope are dreaming. As the lizard king Jim Morrison says – “WAKE UP!”.
They’re called risks, but in hindsight they’re recalled as opportunities – another prevailing lie the dreamer tells themself in perfect hindsight.
The preserved idea of risk without taking it is looked at as positive. Dreamers either lie blissfully unaware forever, or the hands of time rudely pull the sheets away suddenly & it causes a deep disruption – where you realise time has past (& so has your prime). Most mid-life crisis’ are built by regret & a scramble for the youthful energy.
“When you’re young, you have ideas & no money. When you’re old, you have money but no ideas”. (Shoutout to How-To-Make-It-In-America fans).
The energy shifted when my age started with ‘3’. The new search for romance was called work, still fueled by the undercurrent of love. I was determined to find the love within, purely because I hadn’t ever envisioned my life as it was going before that. I always told myself I wanted to do that path & the timing lined up to finally become who I said I was. I never wanted to be boring. I wasn’t making any stories, & if I did, it lived in escapism (drunken weekends, holidays etc). I was simply an extra in the scene – & I always thought me & mine would live like Vinnie Chase. Far from the dreams of my youth, the routine was grey & predictable. Searching for saturation, for ikagai, for what the books & movies swear existed happened when you left the comfort zone. The story. We always said we would at least try. To be honest I just wanted to find a way to make things, make enough to live & share it with those I love.
Soon the older (drunken) voice sung about work, not romance. I never predicted I would lose those who helped inspire possibility – but maybe that’s the role they were destined to play. The math says it’s bound to happen. We always think we’re immune but the law of averages prevails.
What they don’t tell you is how lonely it is.
Some people look at art, others imitate, few create. The modern art paradox of saying “I could do that”, to someone’s work, then doing nothing – but feeling accomplished. The living embodiment of “you are what you do, not what you say you’ll do” (Carl Jung). The burden the canvas bears in public domain is to open yourself up for judgement & watch them hate you for trying. Then you start to hate others for not trying at all. A twisted cycle of isolation. It’s easy to throw stones when you haven’t dared enter vulnerability.
It is true that opinions are only loud amongst crowds – yet nobody is really yelling. Maybe you feel like it’s overwhelming. Maybe someone let you down, tricked you & you’re left to clean up the mess. We put the megaphone to the words & we create the echo. Who gets the blame? The person who sold you a story, or the fool who listened? People can both be nice & an asshole simultaneously.
Those who claim to love the art, don’t love the struggle. Those who only see time as an investment when they’re getting positive reinforcement. It takes guts to stick through the empty exhibitions. Your best customer is someone you don’t know & your biggest hater is someone you do. Freedom from the path = isolation from structure. Most people = structure. With youth you can be the eternal romantic, the short term thinker. Yet it runs out when eternity has a mortgage. You can stacking up the attempts until it starts to make sense. Eventually you’ll escape the bubble of ‘new & exciting‘, become yesterdays news. Then eventually if you stay with it, it turns again. Equity takes time. Reputation takes time. Skills take time. It goes from hard, to normal. The subject, the story & the writer. The next chapter written from the present lesson.
Hope is a drug, laziness is the overdose.
I’ve always found things out the hard way. I don’t trust easily, but when I do – I’m in. He swings big, he misses big. It took me getting a little older to understand heartbreak lives outside of romance. Losing friends, getting older, being let down by those you trust can be ruthless. I never understood why people don’t do their own thing, but I’ve soon gained clarity on why most people don’t venture too far off the path. I understand now – you avoid the isolation & can live high on hope – it’s easier.
Like a junkie, my failures have come solely from hope. The poison pill you thought would get everyone else but you. Hope that things would be what they used to. Searching the same trails for different results with possibility ahead. Eventually the bubble pops.
The eternal optimist within moves on, as there is belief that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. A light pointing into the dark, hoping to hit a mirror. It’s still there, even after the hope leaves because with time you build proof. The eternal optimist within has the quiet power to whisper a lions roar.
Free it. Through ideas, through like-souls (mirrors), through the stories of those who have failed then prevailed- feed it. Walk through the night & by morning the path will become clearer. Don’t let the drug of hope claim another overdose. Be who you say you are & it’ll work out.
The Magnum Opus awaits – it’s not time for the greatest hits. Light outlives heartbreak.
The day disappeared when you did. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved in grief. How long does it take to live a life?
I get sadder every year you’re not here. I guess I have to try a little harder to keep you alive.
When the dates get further away, I overcompensate more. I yearn technology, but memories fade.
I really hated being Hungarian as a kid- it was so different & nobody acknowledged it. It’s so ridiculous. Now I wear it like a badge.
But most, I miss sitting in the same room. I’m grateful to remember the sounds, hopefully I get to keep them. We cough the same.
As the time grows, so does the burden – gratefully. Time spent, time passed. I would’ve loved sharing a beer with you. I tell myself you would’ve been polite & then told Mum the truth over the phone in Hungarian.
The weight of introductions is something I miss the most. It’s so selfish on my behalf, it just vouched for so much so quickly. I can’t do it justice. It’s hard to own the room in the same way.
I really haven’t felt the same since you left, & I haven’t been able to do you or Momma justice. I don’t hate being Hungarian anymore.
It’s unfair how the card games slowly had less seats. They really were so nice, I can remember their smiles, entering the room to mischief after school. I often try to catch those thoughts. I have dreams of walking into those rooms. I remember Mischi had such an infectious laugh.
When you shared the loneliness of outlasting, I didn’t understand. I still don’t. I can’t imagine how that felt. The last man standing is a hollow burden & a lonely wake. Only the strong survive – almost cruel in age.
They always said we looked alike, more as I got older. Dad said I had your ears when I was born.
When you die twice, it happens when you leave, and the second when someone says your name for the last time.
So Janos Bedi, I really miss you. Thank you for being my grandfather, so much so, that it hurts thinking about you.
The number beside the name, or that on your paycheck. How much you can consume in the world.
Cliche as the saying – ‘it’s just the way it is‘.
What is the cost of opportunity? Is it more expensive than money? It’s cheap if you have spare hours, but costly for the time-poor. Freedom in time comes from money.
The stresses of validation hide behind titles on LinkedIn. The business has more equity than the individual, so we clamour onboard. The business values, above those building it. The ship sailed, you’re either onboard or watching it from the shore.
What’s more important, the flower or the soil that grew it?
Drinking water or getting wet? Medium rare or burnt out?
The worth you bring, in exchange for a token with systemic value. A job that gives you said tokens, in exchange for your mind, time & ideas. Accruing annual escapes in pockets.
The broke man doesn’t drive the BMW, or does he? Does the debt count, or do we buy the surface? What about the asset worth nothing until it’s sold? Like stocks – they’re worthless unless you sell right? So they’re worth nothing unless you exchange it to someone else.
The linear between money & value is a broken concept – it’s entirely synthetic to appear like worth. It can be faked & we often buy it.
So where perceptions = reality, is money = value? Is freedom from life’s struggles going to cost you 5 days & 40 hours a week?
“Work a job you love & you’ll never work a day in your life” – every motivational sentiment when you leave high school.
What do they say to the 33 year old? Get a job, probably.
The priceless sentimental heirlooms have low dollar value. So the same system disrespects the value of valuables on an individual level? The societal cost is what lies on the insurance form, which costs money to write. Am I losing my mind or finding worth?
We learn individual behaviours to work for our dream jobs. Maths, science, art, physical education. Then we enter a system where someone else decides what days you can take off, & when you’re worthy of a promotion (here’s a hint, it’s usually when someone leaves). The constant influx of retirees, graduates & those in-between.
I’m trying to redefine success, or atleast what my mind often defaults it as. Delayed gratification, with unmitigated risk of ever reaching it. A betting universe, where the dice game is my future & the odds get further out each game. A resume without titles, just experience. The future me holds no value unless the purpose paid off. Jack-of-all-trades, master of fate. It’s confronting to think about, something I try often to run away from.
The wisdom you gain on the journey, doesn’t eventuate unless the product does.
So much is left in the gamble, as the lessons of a fail often counteract the wisdom of the journey. The lessons aren’t taught unless the teacher succeeded. Hard to sell thoughts without the resume, no? Not worth a cent unless it’s sold. Do we buy failures? The isolation of a journey where you’re the stock, not the buyer.
The corporate ladder holds more money on each step, but what’s at the top? The mortgage of all your time, in exchange for a mortgage on a home? Do we buy books of the 9-5 story? Is there more value in titles over substance? The paycheck over purpose? The wisdom or the wage? I honestly don’t know – but it’s valuable to think about. I despise the idea of a boring existence, but the safety is appealing. My canoe is leaky at best.
“Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it” – Gandhi.
You don’t appreciate time until you understand it can be taken away. $100 million for your health? Not a chance. How about the cost to not do what you really want to try? 100k with 2 weeks paid leave get the job done? The game is a trap that gets harder to leave & isolates those who aren’t aligned.
I’ve never been here before, especially as an adult. My funds are low. I got close last year, around the same time. I know I’m privileged & I know I’m better off than so many less fortunate. It’s a motivating factor – as when it comes to resources to help others – I’m scarce outside of time (which I selfishly need right now).
We are products of our environment, which is how my reflection comes through. So many want ‘the best’ for you, where ‘the best’ = safety with slight freedoms. It’s appealing, especially with my quiet account, with low returns compared to the community I keep. It’s been hard to live 3 years off the ship – but I appreciate value differently now. It’s lonely in the leaky canoe, but it goes where I go.
My biggest fear is time, both in wasted, procrastinated or avoided. The accounts are low, yet the accountability is high. Even if the ability of accounts aren’t. ‘DIY or die’ – a mantra.
Look forward & not sideways – another mantra. Beware, it’s difficult, especially to avoid challenges presented by a superficial system.
It’s not worth losing your head over. Self awareness is here, the gratification is late.
The most common deathbed regrets are a combination of ‘not living as your true self‘ & ‘not spending enough time with your loved ones‘. If money buys freedom, why not freedom from these regrets? I don’t want to end up here & I hope you don’t either.
So what remains to address? The most important reality is the perception, albeit internally, we have of ourselves. Regardless of what you present publicly – (as a broke man who once drove a BMW). You might be the only one that knows, but you’re aware of the facade. The attitude mirrors the body possessing it. Insecurities lie when the presentation hides truth. When you’re insecure, you assume everyone is a liar. The compliments feel hollow, as you don’t believe them to be truth. Find a space that feels like home & own it.
I hope you’re on the path you yearned when time was rich & I hope you find peace in the journey, even in pockets. I’m figuring it out as I go.
Your purpose has no value unless you lose it. Then it’s worth everything. It’s value lies in the sentiments your future self will enjoy, so look after it & thank yourself later. The only way out is through. Be who you say you are, not what you say you are.
33 today, yet I still feel young. I don’t feel any different to 25 – just in the perception those hold of me. Time served on earth = expectation. Like the naive 18 year old, thinking 30 is old. Blink & the clock hands seem to skip forward at light speed. I still feel the same.
Age is a number that carries restrictions. Placed merely on our shells, the clock progresses another hour but the battery hasn’t changed. The source of how we measure time doesn’t change – it ticks seemingly infinite. It’s where the movement comes from – without it, we lie still. The construct of expectation is linear with time. Success, or success relative to your age isn’t real.
It’s impossible to avoid, especially as each year passes & we look sideways instead of forward. It’s enforced by standards of which I choose not to accept.
Fact is, I’m 33. The whispers roar ever louder on this day.
The future ahead is promising, just like at 25, just like at 21 – just less naive & more challenging. The battery hasn’t changed. It’s funny how we count the hours, not the hours inside the battery behind it. Time is valuable, a resource & a story. It heals, it takes & it is infinitely going to continue regardless of if you do. Charge the battery – that’s what navigates the shell.
I’m grateful for another year, grateful for this pit I’ve fallen in to. Grateful for the challenge that lies ahead to get back in control. Leap into the void & get your purpose checked. The goals stay above, the only way out is through & the only motion is forward.
I hope you have a great year, challenge yourself, find hunger & stay true to the path that remains above you. It’s guiding you in a way that reflects the purpose of your journey outwards to the world. Trust it & don’t stray for long – you might not find your way back. The battery hasn’t changed.
The days in the car, contemplating if it’s worth it – it is. I came up with the email subject- Hail Mary – the longest shot with disproportionate outcomes. That’s me, man. Lottery tickets. Hope. You gotta try.
I really don’t like working for other people. Not for the usual reasons. I naively think I can do it better, or I just don’t care as much as you do – there’s no in-between. Not very pragmatic. I’m under my own spell.
The ethos I’ve had since 2020 is persistence & consistence.
I haven’t shared the results out loud much anymore, but it’s a governing arch that hangs above my head, guiding me when I question my purpose. Why? Because it’ll pan out. Huh? trust me.
My gut speaks fluently in purpose.
You’re doing it because it’s what grows you, dummy. Leave the nest. You hate yourself when you don’t try & you respect trying & failing more than not trying. It’s not rocket science.
I’ve never been so certain of myself & lost within my friends.
The era is defined by kids – a beautiful list of new beings that will clear out our accomplishments with their own – the seeds that grow. The milestones live by talking – something that we don’t even effectively accomplish as adults. Don’t mistake my selfishness for a lack of enthusiasm, I haven’t lost track of my own goals compared to a tiny human. I wasn’t raised within a house of praise, so on my own quest I’m building a foundation. I refuse to pass on the expectation.
Selfishly, I’ll focus on me. It seems so shallow to even discuss, but its my truth. I want kids, & they’ll be my world – I have so much love to give – I’m just aware of how much that love will cripple me. I haven’t finished setting up the landscape for my own blueprint yet. Society dictates Father Time, and I’m not immune – I look forward to that day when it comes.
For now, on the cusp of a great win, take a breath. No celebration. Get back to work. The milestones have shifted with the energy.
The thought entered, and as I felt the words in order, I knew the answer. Is it worth it?
Maybe the lessons alone are enough to justify it all. I’ve made some mistakes & learnt naively that if you expect grandeur, they’re usually delusions (to start). If it was easy everybody would do it, huh.
My ego is gone, man. Business wise, it’s vanished. Not confidence, but ego. The thing that makes you believe your talent alone can win any fight. It doesn’t.
Grinding to gatekeepers, who quarantine my brand from opportunity without the utmost semblance of returned respect. No facts, no logic, just opinions. In this twisted system you will create something and have to beg for the chance merely to show it. Some people won’t even give you 2 minutes when it took you forty five just to get there. It’s pretty wild, and often infuriating- but it’s something you need to learn. No words will justify it to those with ego, because most people don’t know until it happens. Being younger I would’ve thought “nah, not me. I’d get that sale”. Lesson, meet learner. Despite all this, I still know I’ll get them, but the process to do so will consume me long after the rejection has actually happened. It will take resilience, when once it would’ve been burned like a bridge my ego was trapped on. Strategy, options, planning – it’ll get you the revenge win, but you won’t get to rub it in, you’ll just wear the work it took like pasta sauce on a white tee – not pretty, but everybody knows you’ve eaten.
Experience is truly something you can’t buy, like respect. They’re hand in hand. Just like persistence & consistence – they equal the other, with time. Experience becomes equity, if it’s learned. Perspective is just how you know, it reveals value, simply because it happened and you did it. You’ll realise the people who tried to take advantage of you when you knew less, but only after. Maybe you didn’t double check something the first time, out of trust. Won’t do that again, will you dummy? Your dream might just be someone else’s invoice. On the flip side it’ll show those who gave great advice from the beginning, when it’s proven through time to be true. They cared. You’ll learn by blindly beginning. Novice experience will be preyed upon by those who aren’t as secure, watch for the wolves in sheep’s clothing.
I had dinner with a friend recently who asked me if it was ‘killing me‘. More so, my soul. 3 and a half years in. Wasn’t expecting the question, but my answer was no. I just didn’t expect it to be so difficult.
Would you still of done it had you known at the beginning it would be this hard?
I can see that fool now- with a smug confidence that still lives somewhere inside. That motherfucker still thinks he could make the NBA. I’m built like that, somewhat irrational. The question is rather, what would you do differently? The true value is in using those answers.
On the eve of the biggest risk for my business, can I do this? If I tell you, it’s yes. It’ll be showing you that’s more difficult. Let’s see how delusional I really am, as the only way to really know, is to know. It takes time to build buildings. Equity isn’t attained by quitting. He swings big, he misses big. Get off the track when the train’s comin’.
“Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality.”
When you’re born, the number of people older than you never grows.
We’re born into a system that updates as we age, phasing out the old & bringing in the new. The older generation above us are exactly the same with us, as we are with those younger. It’s a closed loop.
Earlier this year a younger friend, that I’d had many conversations with about ideas (mostly his & his own grand visions) told me he was watching me with envy. He was holding me accountable in a unique way- as influence. I was so grateful, because what a blessing it is to share our own experiences, even in my small tally- that could inspire someone else to do something themselves. Change the trajectory, open up their mind to new thoughts. The younger generation are the future & to influence a thought process in the way I used to speak with my best friends at his age- what an outlet. I cherish it & I’m grateful he listens to my confused narration of what I think life should be. I always liked hearing how eager he was in finding his purpose- not some bullshit job to make money by falling into the system of debts & burdens. But this really fed my own purpose tenfold just talking to him.
I could see advice was lived, not hypothetical. That’s new.
He bought books & suggested some back. He changed his actions & had started planning an escape into his own idea. I can’t stress enough how fucking good it felt to offer something other than enthusiasm, a nod, or an ear for a change- a conversation with weight.
This whole ordeal really opened my eyes to the next generation, atleast the ones that speak & live with ambition.
But in reality, there’s another side, & I’m just as hyped on that.
I’m ready.
I like the competition.
These young hungry cats have to climb the ladder; just like I did. They’ll earn stripes & achieve.
They want the scalps, targets, goals & accounts that we currently have. Whatever KPI metric holds weight – they’re aiming for it.
Maybe it’s to get six figures. Or be the boss of someone. Maybe it’s to steal your idea & expose it to more eyes. Maybe it’s to get an account. Maybe it’s simply to get on the radar with a boss. They’ll go the extra mile out of gratefulness for opportunity, just like we did before most got complacent. But you know what?
They gotta fucking beat me at it.
You gotta outwork me.
I’m a believer in keeping things individual, as “your race, is your race” & we run in different tracks, not against each other (all the time). There is a lot to go around. But I see it in my industry of work all the time. There is an abundance of talented individuals who are fucking good & they’ll overtake you- either by network or through perseverance.
I see them in field, I hear about them through friends & I see the work accumulating online. Just as I’m chasing the guys in front of me, I’m being chased. And you know I’m not trying to make myself an easy target. I want to win, more than anything.
There are days I sit in my car filled with dread & this is what I think about.
Nobody is paying me to do this, I got here from an idea that was created by me & some friends. You cannot care the same as I do, because this has my fingers on it. My reputation. My money, time & energy. This is my purpose, right now.
This shit isn’t easy- so a lot of people will quit or stray to the easier path. The one commonly followed. The ones who persevere are the winners.
I’m coming for your neck because I know eventually there will be a time that someone will overtake me too. It’ll happen to us all. They say father time is undefeated when it comes to sports. Kill or be killed. Aim up.
So with this blessing of observation, I’m so grateful. We are the company we keep, & the environment we surround ourselves with. Better make it good, huh? What’s more important, the flower or the soil that grows it?
I miss those moments with my friends, because they don’t last. We are naive in the present & nostalgic when it passes. The wild thinkers of their 20’s often tame by 30. I’ve seen it. Soak it in whilst the influence lasts & allow yourself to mourn potential lost- it’s normal to feel that way. But if you don’t burn out, blow up.
There is no ego. There is no agenda. There is only purpose & passion, everything else is a perk. 2021, you’ve been a bit- but it allowed myself to grow & expose myself to the deep end for the first time. The safety net was gone in 2020, and the swimming began in 2021. I hope 2022 is the deep end, because I’m building a boat.
Hello my purpose, I feel you, I see you & I’m pursuing you with everything. I’m coming for your fucking neck. Another lap starts tomorrow.
When did you stop believing the world was ours? When did you grow up & stop believing?
“Growing up” didn’t mean this.
At least what it turned out to be.
You’ll lose friends.
I wouldn’t of believed you, merely years ago. I would’ve called you a fucking liar –
“that’s my brother“.
me, 5 years ago.
Forgive the confusion, I haven’t been here before (without the company). They left, physically after the mental. My right hand, is my own. Looking around brings the isolation to louder terrain. Isolation is always louder when you overthink, huh?
What part of the imagination has broken? What changed? Unfortunately, the people who wore weight in reality- they left. Lucid; they felt real. Who would’ve thought.
Watch what people say, not what they do – I hate how accurate that is. Don’t be fooled by delusion, OR what you wish to be true. The photos & moments last, but the sentiment is glitter. It hangs around, just not substantial – more annoying.
I never wanted to be here alone, but here I am.
I’ve long deleted many posts on this site, as I grieved for a long time & spoke to third parties that asked me to accept the independence. The advice is always to ‘grieve’ or confront. Bullshit – shit made it worse. I didn’t want to accept ditching the plan we always believed, because I still believed it. I allowed the excuses to creep – I made excuses for them too. Convincing myself – I was the bearer of bad news & the messenger. Once a witness, now a listener.
They don’t tell you, that you’re just lying to your younger self.
I’m not getting any younger, & It’s been a hard two years, but:
It’s going well when we aren’t competing with things we never saw coming.
To my younger self: Hang in, I promise we’re getting there.
RunIntoFlowers.co 