What if we solve the Internet Problem?

I try my best to consume news that is balanced, or at least containing viewpoints across the political spectrum. It seems to just result in conflicting information. Sometimes it’s hard to know what to believe, to know what’s fake news, to identify mis or disinformation. When both "sides" speak so fervently about their position and vehemently attack each other, how do we determine the truth?

And then I thought: what if the world has always been like this? What if it’s always been difficult to know what to believe, if there's always been uncertainty? Perhaps that's not actually the problem—maybe it's a feature, not a bug. Perhaps the issue is not the divide itself, but the mechanism of information consumption, the consequences resulting from the amount and accessibility of information today. What if we just have a phone problem, an internet problem, not a polarization problem?

Internet cafe in Diqing, China near the Tibetan border - June 2013

The intensity of our rhetoric appears to have increased. It’s common for pundits or elected officials to make bold claims about what’s at stake. This is the most important election in the history of our country. Democracy is on the ballot this year. WE CANNOT LET THE OTHER SIDE WIN! Democrats and Republicans both regularly make such grandiose statements. Everything is a crisis. But this could be less of a sociological problem and more of a phone/internet problem.

I think back to my reading of Truman by David McCullough—there was a lot of mudslinging during the 1948 election between Harry S. Truman and Thomas E. Dewey. Sure, the language was more 'professional' than the language today. Many people blame Trump for that. But language changes. I’ve noticed my family swears more often in casual conversation now, which never happened when I was younger. We even swore in front of my Granny in the last few years of her life, something forbidden growing up. Similarly, there was mudslinging in the elections of the 1800’s too. Criticism of political opponents is not new.

But maybe the abrasiveness has increased, maybe the language has intensified. Are our phones to blame? We are constantly connected to the zeitgeist through our internet-capable mobile devices. Most people check their phones the moment they wake up and look at them throughout the whole day, only putting them down right before going to sleep. Compare that to 1948. Harry Truman ran a ‘whistle stop’ campaign, touring the country on a private train, stopping in tiny towns all across the contiguous United States, speaking to groups of a few hundred. Sometimes there were merely dozens of listeners. The press traveled with him, and the newspapers were the disseminators of information, the campaign updaters. News traveled slowly. Today, most people get alerts anytime anything ‘newsworthy’ happens. Information's travel time is negligible, with incessant updates occurring instantly after things happen, day after day after day.

Examining a red telephone box in Westminster - February 2023

The more recent democratization of news media means competition for your attention is fiercer than ever. Everyone knows the newspapers are dying; their business model can’t keep up with the technology of today. Independent news shows attract hundreds of thousands of daily consumers. There are thousands of podcasts and Youtube channels, Reddit threads and Twitter conversations, all competing for your attention. It’s disorganized, chaotic, and still new. We don’t yet know how to handle it.

But what if we did? Would solving this information overload actually solve our 'democracy crisis?' Would it decrease polarization? In other words, is the technology upstream from these sociological (and thus economic and political) consequences?

Our phones are not the devil. The internet shouldn’t be abolished. But survey after survey show we are increasingly stressed by, and concerned about, our relationship to technology and our obsession with our phones. Whereas information scarcity yields its own perils, the past twenty years show information overload has its own profound consequences. What if it’s as simple as solving the internet problem? What if we change our approach to the internet, and measured public discourse start to return?

Simple and easy are not synonyms. “The internet” is not one single ‘thing.’ But if something is simple, it becomes approachable, and when we can approach something, we can solve it. Maybe the problem isn’t us. Maybe it’s just how we use our phones.

Joe Rogan is rich. But his podcast can tell us something about happiness.

Joe Rogan and Tom Segura strayed into rich guy talk on JRE last week. While unpalatable, the discussion also presents an important lesson.

Around the 74 minute mark they started talking luxury cars. Cars that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They looked up a tract of land for sale with a custom built racetrack, and Joe briefly entertained the idea of buying it so they had somewhere to drive their fast luxury cars, but they reasoned it was too far. Tom even said "hey you can helicopter there."

Opulent Big Ben, London - February 2023

This is obviously outside the realm of possibility for most people. Both Joe and Tom are very wealthy, with Joe even qualifying as obscenely rich (with his Spotify deals). Their luxury car conversation illustrates they’re living in a different world. Joe is usually pretty good at staying away from this type of talk, but succumbs to it with guests who are friends.

My hot take: it's okay for them to talk about this, it's okay for them to be rich. I don't begrudge their wealth just because it dwarfs mine. I believe in capitalism. Our society attributes value to what these two men produce—comedy. There's nothing wrong with being rich. I think Joe just knows most listeners will only tolerate so much rich guy talk.

But their conversation illuminates something. It shows that despite any wealth divide, we cannot escape the universal human condition: our insatiable need for more. Joe Rogan and Tom Segura were causally talking about something tempting, but it was just a little too pricey. Even if Joe's net worth really is 9 digits, there are still things he cannot afford or is unwilling to pay for. We all experience this, no matter our wealth. Jeff Bezos, one of the richest human beings on the planet (and in the history of the world), famously had a $500 million superyacht built. This yacht has a “support vessel” which… has a helicopter pad. Talk about ostentatious spending. But Bezos couldn't get his superyacht out of the harbor. It was too big to exit underneath the bridge. Eventually the masts were stepped, but it proves even the 2nd richest person on the planet can't have everything he wants whenever he wants. 

None of us can. It's a fundamental part of the human condition. Our brains are wired to adapt to current circumstances as a survival mechanism. Once we become accustomed to more ease, more time, more wealth, we continue to want more. It's inescapable; every human being faces this conundrum. So while the rich may live in a different world in many ways, that only extends so far. We each struggle through the same emotional capacity. While the physical, tangible items we desire or covet might look drastically different, the struggle is the same.

Wealth and beauty on display at Ponza, Italy - July 2024

This can be an encouraging thought. It can give some solace, that even if we never become as rich as Joe or Jeff, we can still enjoy a good life. I'd argue the 'richest' people in the world are those who experience the most joy within their current situation, within themselves. Those who can remain content and maximize their time are the wealthiest. Elon Musk said as much a previous Joe Rogan episode, quipping, "everyone thinks they want to be me. I don't think most people want to be me." Does Elon get to jet set around the world? Yes. Is he plagued internally with his incessant thinking patterns? It seems so.

All this provides an opportunity to eliminate envy. We can all strive to be our best, to provide as good a life as possible for our families. But competing for wealth with others is folly. We all adapt to our circumstances, we are all tempted with the allure of more. How we reject that, how we remain satisfied, is what determines our quality of life.

Many studies have shown that once an individual makes above a certain salary threshold, happiness doesn't increase. I intuit that's true. Once our basic needs are met, it's up to us to be happy. So maybe we take Joe's advice for society and make less losers. Maybe we set things up so we don't have really poor people living in communities with no opportunity. Maybe if we solve that, we can work to ensure all humans globally enjoy an acceptable standard of living. Maybe that's the easy part. Maybe the hard part is the battle we each must face, of resisting more, and remaining fulfilled. 

Three Good Things

I don’t know if my parents got it from somewhere or came up with it themselves. But it’s worked wonders for me. My wife and I do it, and I look forward to continuing it with my daughter someday.

When I was growing up we would go around the table and say “three good things” about our day. The vagueness of “thing” was important to the exercise. It didn’t have to be an event or something that happened to you. It didn’t mean you had to choose something to be grateful for. You could choose something that had nothing to do with you. It just had to be “good,” and it had to be about today.

This was brilliant for a few reasons. It facilitated a conversation in which we shared our days with each other. I often talked about school, about what I learned that day or how my sports practice went. Dad usually talked about work. Sometimes it would be a good meeting, or he got off early, something like that. Mom’s three things were always varied, because she ran the household and completed all the errands. It was almost a reflection of the good out in our community. 

The principal gathering place of my family growing up, my Granny's dining room table

As a kid it gave me insight into what my parent’s day-to-day looked like. Of course I had no idea at the time—I was just eager to hear what they were going to say. But it enabled me to peer into their lives and see them as people, not just parental figures with opaque inner worlds.

It also forced us to be positive and grateful, even if we had a bad day. I don’t have explicit memories of this, but I know there were times my parents forced me to say three good things on bad days. Even if I got in trouble at school, or did poorly on a test, or dropped the ball in practice, they would make me think of three good things, even if they were small.

And some days they were really small. Some days the three things don’t feel like they add up to a lot. But voicing them out loud and sharing them with your tribe helps you retain some appreciation for the day, for being alive. You could have the most horrible day, but it’s always possible to find three good things within it. Maybe you witnessed someone acting kindly to a stranger at the store. Maybe you hit all green lights on the way home. There’s always something. It’s a reminder that there’s good in the world.

This ritual began long before cell phones. Growing up we had this brown, Southwestern style table. Mom and Dad sat at the head and foot of the table, on the short sides, and my sister and I sat across from each other on the long sides. We would all be facing each other. We would sit down to eat dinner, without the TV on, without distractions. I remember how upset my parents would get if the phone rang during the meal. I think they felt our private, almost primal family time was being encroached upon. They would (get up and) answer the (corded) phone, and when it would inevitably be a telemarketer, they would angrily say to them, “our family is eating dinner right now we are not available” and hang up. Our friends and family knew to not call around six o’clock; that was dinner time.

Here are some examples of actual good things I’ve said or heard:

• “I had my nitro cold brew this morning, and it was delicious” (it was a pretty bad day, and this was a bright spot)

• “I got a raise today!”

• “(So and so) wasn’t in my classroom today”

• “I enjoyed practicing my piano today”

• “The weather was great today”

• “(Our friend) is doing better (in the hospital)”

• “We’re sitting as a family eating dinner”

Society seems to be losing the sacredness surrounding dinner. With our phones constantly within reach, there are no longer any boundaries or private time, what we used to call “family time” growing up. People text at all hours and eat at all hours. When I was a kid, dinner was our family’s time, no one else’s. We would sit as a family and eat and talk.

And I get it. Our phones are designed to be addictive, there’s more to watch on TV than ever before, and our couches are comfortable. My wife and I want to eat on the couch in front of the TV less often. It’s a work in progress. But I also know there’s never been a meal at the table that I’ve regretted. I’ve never lamented, “man I really wish we sat in front of the TV tonight.” Not once.

San Francisco skyline from an old Instagram post of mine

When we do sit at the table together, we have an informal rule against phones. We often put on some relaxing background music, and then we sit and talk. And we ask each other about our three good things. It fosters communication and sharing. And something magical happens during that time together at the table.

There’s something intimate about eating with another person. Every culture eats meals together, and every culture celebrates holidays or holds traditions around food. It’s sacred to break bread with your tribe. It’s probably the most intimate thing you do with a person other than sleeping with them. That’s why dates often center around a meal. We even provide those on Death row a choice for the last meal. As Jack Nicholson’s insightful movie line goes, “you learn a lot, watching things eat.” 

And I wonder… what if it was that simple for us to build a better, kinder, more inclusive society? What if simply eating with our families made us better people, more grateful people, more considerate people? What if sitting down and sharing our three good things impacted the world? What if it was that simple, sharing our three good things?

Thank you Mom and Dad, for showing me this practice. It’s had a measurable effect on my life. My heart swells fondly when I think back to those memories on “ordinary” nights, having dinner at the kitchen table, just the four of us. I am continuing the practice with my family now, and I hope it will always pass down.

What are your three good things from today?

Scenery changes. People are the same.

I long to travel. I feel it in my bones when I’ve been sedentary for too long. I yearn to be up in the air, to land in unfamiliar airports somewhere new. I love that first feeling of strangeness when encountering a new place.

Once you leave the airport and tourist infrastructure though, it quickly settles—because you realize everyone around you is the same as the people back home. Everyone goes about their daily lives, seeking health, wealth, and love, searching for purpose. We’re all the same in that regard, us humans.

My route to work and downtown Cape Town, March 2012

In a way it’s really the Earth that changes the most. People may wear different clothing and eat unique foods, but it’s the geography that shifts dramatically. I think back to how Table Mountain and the Twelve Apostles brush up to the sea at the bottom of Africa, or how the plains stretch on endlessly in northwestern Tanzania. I remember the white mountains of Svalbard, the ubiquitous ice of Antarctica. I shudder thinking of the dense hot jungle that is the Amazon, and daydream about the mesmerizing rice paddies in Southeast Asia. These are the unique features of our planet. The people are the same. 

Cape Town and Beijing are unalike. They have completely different histories and are almost on opposite ends of the Earth. (To be fair, South Africa seems to be on the opposite end from most places.) Cape Town is a bowl city smushed between the ocean and mountains. Its 400 years of smorgasbord history and culture dwarfs its population of 5 million. You feel a part of history walking the streets of the Mother City. Beijing is a gargantuan metropolis of 22 million souls, modern skyscrapers slowly smothering the ancient inner rings, the city shrouded in pollution. Even though South Africa has 11 national languages and China has 300+ minor ones, none of them overlap. Denizens of Cape Town are found speaking a number of those languages, and will often switch from one to another to communicate efficiently as needed. Beijing’s residents speak Putonghua, the “standard” Chinese, which serves as the lingua franca for most of the country.

Walking alongside the gargantuan Jinyuan Mall, where I used to work in Beijing in 2013

I was equally disoriented upon landing in both countries. But eventually I found my bearings, and both became home. I look back on my time in both cities fondly, and still maintain friendships with people in each. My friends are culturally distant and have divergent perspectives on geopolitics, economics, the best food, etc. But there’s one thing they don’t differ on: a life well lived. I have proof of this—two of my friends from each country have hung out together.

My roommate in Woodstock, the first suburb outside Cape Town, is South African. Let’s call him Dirk. We became great friends while living together, going on bike rides, playing chess, and talking about the world. I’ve learned a lot from him. When I moved to Beijing, one of the first people I met was a friend of a friend—we can call him Nico. We shared similar interests, namely working out, playing basketball, and partying. We also divulged in deep discussions on politics, economics, and history. These two friends could’t be any more similar, despite their environments. They both enjoyed sport, they were both social and both good, genuine guys. Of course, not everyone has the same personality. But despite cultural differences and different scenery, they wanted the same thing: a fun, happy life.

This was verified when they met, in Barcelona of all places. My wife and I were visiting Spain in 2019, and my Chinese friend had moved to Barcelona a few years before. He served as our foreign local, showing us all the hidden gems—bars, good paella spots, and uncrowded beaches. (Always the best way to travel.) On our last night in town, my South African friend surprised me—he called me and said he was in Barcelona, having driven some 800km that day to meet us before we left. I was flabbergasted! I didn’t expect to enjoy the company of both friends in such an unlikely place. We had dinner together and went out for drinks until the wee hours. They got along splendidly. And why wouldn’t they? They’re both great guys that want the same thing, the thing we all want. To live a beautiful life.

Sunset in Barcelona the night we all met up, August 2019

Well, my wife and I had a 7am train the next day and turned in “early,” by Spanish standards at least (Dirk and Nico stayed out). The next morning was rough: scrambling to throw our things into our bags, getting a ride to the train station, and finding the right seats on the right train were all more difficult when hungover and sleep deprived. We slept the whole five-hour train ride to Granada. Upon arrival, we wandered through the maze of narrow, winding streets in the old town to our AirBnB apartment, and promptly took another nap in the dizzying heat of Andalusia.

Upon waking, I had multiple messages from an unknown number. Dirk had been pickpocketed on La Rambla, losing his wallet and phone. I immediately sent him Nico’s number and connected the two of them. It was all I could really do while 700 kilometers away.

Several hours later, Nico shared a picture of the two of them having dinner. We texted a lot over the next several days, and it warmed my heart to hear how much Nico helped out Dirk. He paid for dinner and, speaking Catalan, was able to get Dirk’s old number on a new phone and access to money. Dirk couldn’t speak more highly of Nico, and it was clear they had built a relationship of their own, independent of me as the mutual friend.

This story illustrates how similar we all are. We may come from different cultures, speak other languages, or, on the surface, have distinct ways of life. But we all bleed, laugh, cry, and smile the same. I believe in the human race. I believe we are good, and that our similarities run much deeper than our differences. Our environments may differ, but we are the same. Maybe, just maybe, if we recognize this on a global scale, we’ll all see ourselves as one race, one species, living on one planet together.

What if it was that simple?

Tell me if this sounds familiar:

"I'm barely getting by. It's hard just to pay rent and afford groceries with inflation so high. The job market sucks. Insurance is out of control. My credit cards and student loan debt are piling up. How am I supposed to keep up with everything going on in the world?" Between climate change, the economy, our broken political system, all the polarization.. sometimes it feels hopeless. And you say, "I vote in every election, isn't that enough?"

I'm not sure it's enough.

Life is hard. The weight of the world can feel debilitating. It seems we have so many big problems—how can someone like me help solve them? I'm just an ordinary person. Yet it's also clear that democracy is fragile. That it's not easy. Belligerent rhetoric makes it hard to stay engaged or hopeful. But we must remember: self-governance is not guaranteed. Malicious forces will always seek to seize or remain in power.

Thus, if we want to enjoy and preserve democracy, we must embrace responsibility. And it goes beyond voting.

Volunteering at a voting center in Mountain View during the 2020 election

Traditionally, voting is considered the bare minimum. And it's actually pretty time-consuming. To truly be informed, to vote conscientiously and with conviction, you have to read, research, and learn a lot. Do I know exactly what's in that bill? How much do I really know about this candidate—am I ​confident their character and record will translate into policy progress? Voting takes time, if done thoroughly.

But there's another responsibility that constitutes the bare minimum. Besides staying informed and voting, it's our responsibility as citizens to proactively improve our community, our country, and the world. Americans enjoy the freedoms and rights afforded to us by the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and hard-fought amendments. In order to maintain these rights and freedoms, and in order to ensure the progress of good, we must do more than simply vote. We must also proactively seek to improve democracy.

This can mean different things to different people. It doesn't have to be extravagant. There are many ways to impact the world that, while requiring effort and agency, do not require a lot of time. These simple, unique things might be called a person's "unique value adds."

Some potential examples:

I recently asked the question, "what if it was as simple as hiking more?" What if that was an effective way of changing the world? If it made us happier? If it made us more connected to the Earth and each other? Could it be that simple?

Or... what if it was as simple as keeping our living spaces tidy? Cleaner environments unclutter our minds, and impacting our emotional state and how we interact with others. Clean = feel good mentally and emotionally = treat others well = better world.

What if it was as simple as being grateful every day? (I've written extensively about gratitude; I believe it's important to actively pursue it each and every day). This is something every person on the planet can do, no matter their circumstances. What if being grateful changed our world

Grateful for a beautiful sunset in Kaanapali, July 2023

I've also wrote about the act of consideration. When we practice consideration, we are empathetic, leading to understanding and connection. Don't we need more of that in the world? What if it was as simple as being considerate?

What if, collectively pursued, these things had a huge impact on our society?

Something to note—​there's a difference between simple and easy. Something simple can still be difficult. "Simple" describes the lack of complexity in something, not the effort required. Running a marathon is extremely simple—you run 26.2 miles. Follow the course and run; it's not very complex. But yea, it's really hard. Similarly, forcing yourself to express gratitude can be difficult. It can be hard to make yourself feel something. But it's very simple: force yourself to focus on the good things in your life, and contemplate them. Exert your energy thinking about how fortunate you are, and recognize it could be much worse.

We can find our unique value adds with this easy question, "What if? What if it was that simple?" Asking ourselves this question enables us to do more than simply vote. It empowers us to explore how we can uniquely contribute to the world and make an impact.

Because life is hard. But that doesn't preclude us from doing more. And we can do things we enjoy that make a difference. Just think—​what if it was as simple as doing the simple things? What if?

The Power of Travel

It took months to get a Chinese visa as an American citizen living in South Africa. This was back in 2011. I didn’t have internet or a smartphone. I was living illegally on a tourist visa, working under the table as a teacher at a language school in the heart of town, about twenty minutes away. My bicycle was my only reliable means of transportation. I was barely making it.

The cycling community in Cape Town was focused on raising awareness in the early 2010’s

The Chinese visa office was around the other side of Table Mountain, and I cycled there often to repeatedly bring mounds of paperwork as it was increasingly requested (read: demanded). Processing took weeks. I had trouble buying an airline ticket—once cycling all the way to CPT, about 2 hours each way. There was nowhere in the entire airport to buy plane tickets, and I had to turn back empty handed. I got lost in a township on the way home. As the sun set, I became more and more concerned for my safety; it was not the right place for me to be alone with wads of cash. So just getting the necessary documents was a journey.

But it was all worth it. I’d even argue this: travel might be the most important thing almost everyone can do. I understand not everybody “gets” to travel. But it’s easier than people think. Anyone living above the poverty line can go somewhere. Catching an 18 hour bus can bring you to a completely different place, and that’s attainable for most people.

Once you start traveling, you get “bitten by the bug”—you can’t easily stop. There’s something intoxicating about visiting new places and experiencing the foreign. It stimulates you mentally, emotionally, and physically. It can be the altitude in Denver or Bolivia; the spirituality in Bali or Tibet; the political system of Egypt or Russia. Traveling changes you, and once you’ve felt that change, you seek it out.

Exploring the streets of Doha - March 2012

When I was moving from South Africa to China back in 2011, people always asked me, “why do you want to go to China?” The honest answer was that I didn’t really have an answer. I didn’t really know. China was the unknown, something new and mysterious, something wildly different than anything else I had experienced up to that point. I remember having these fleeting images of Big Bad Communist China: gargantuan, imposing, Soviet-style buildings under gray skies, millions of faceless Chinese citizens stoically crisscrossing a cold, calculating land. But I also understood that I didn’t actually know at all what China was like—I didn’t know what to expect, and that’s part of what drove me there. 

I vividly remember my first “oh shit” moment: it was during my layover. I flew from Cape Town to Doha on the first leg, with 24 hours before my flight to Beijing. Naturally, like the carefree 23 year old I was, I checked my two bags, which was all I owned, and left the airport to go explore the city. I visited museums, mosques, and bazars. It was my first time to the Middle East and I soaked it all in. I also passed out on the grass in a public park for a few hours. Upon returning to the airport, I went through security and found my terminal. Exhausted, I sat down in the waiting area and sighed, dreading the long flight ahead. After a couple moments I noticed something. All around me, people were chattering away in Chinese. It was an alien language to me. I think I was the only non-Chinese person on my flight, and I realized that I didn’t speak a lick of Mandarin other than “knee how.”  I was about to move to a country in which I wouldn’t be able to communicate, one in which I knew no one. It hit me right then that I was completely unprepared for what was to come.

My first day in Beijing: March 15, 2012. Being driven to the Wangjing neighborhood from the airport.

I didn’t quite panic, but I was definitely terrified. And somehow that was exciting. I was leaving my second home, the relative comfort of Cape Town, for the complete unknown. I had no idea what my life would be like in 8 hours. But I knew it was going to be different, and an adventure. I shuffled in line with everyone else when our flight began boarding, found my seat on the plane, and promptly passed out again, extremely low on sleep. Many hours later, as I smelt the sour air as we descended through the pollution to Beijing Capital Airport, I looked out the window at the early morning sunshine and awaited my fate.

The rest is history: I am the person I am today because of the 3 1/2 years I spent living in Beijing. It completely changed my life. I didn’t leave “the Motherland,” as I still call it, until I returned home in October of 2015. To this day I’ve seen more of China than I have of the US. I grew up in Beijing, developed my vision of a life dedicated to education, and learned the importance of family. This is how poignant travel can be. And shorter trips can be meaningful too. The point is you push yourself, you immerse yourself, you challenge your conception of the world. Travel unlocks the power of experience and the spirit of adventure. It can be a great teacher. And it’s always worth it.

Everyone is Wrong about the Election

Everything you see about the presidential election is wrong. It’s simply too early to call.

This is why the work in the trenches is done. The getting out the vote, the marketing and advertising, the cold calling, the surveys and donation solicitation… it’s all necessary to win an election. Think about it: campaigns wouldn’t spend money if it didn’t yield a return on investment. And spending has skyrocketed.

This is also an unprecedented election:

• Donald Trump, the Republican nominee is convicted of multiple felony charges

• Joe Biden, the (eligible) incumbent drops out of the race (only the 2nd time this has ever happened)

• Kamala Harris secures enough Democratic Party delegates within 2 days

• The former president is shot and survives an assignation attempt

• Both major party candidates select unexpected Vice Presidential picks for their respective tickets

• RFK Jr. (the first major third party candidate since the 2000 election) drops out and endorses Trump

• Highly publicized wars in Ukraine and Gaza rage throughout this whole time

It’s Friday September 6th. There are 60 days until the voting booths close on November 5th. What else will happen until then? Any pundits who prophesize the outcome with confidence are delusional. There’s been nothing like this before, and we can only predict the outcome with heavy uncertainty. 

Your vote, the most important responsibility you have as a free citizen, still matters.

Resiliency: Human Salvation

Resiliency is the most unique, powerful, and important trait of our species. It is our salvation.

Until recently, I’d forgotten that.

Too often in my life I’ve felt sorry for myself. Sometimes when faced with adversity I ruminate on state and situation, and take a long time to reach acceptance. When I hurt my knee a few weeks ago, I was terrified I tore my ACL. For multiple days I treated it with ibuprofen and ice, and I made an appointment with my doctor when it didn’t get better. Because I was scared, I was slow to accept my injury. All the way up to the appointment I was short-tempered and anxious. But my frustration was for naught: I merely had Runner’s Knee. To worry is to suffer twice. 

I feel I’ve lost some resiliency. This wasn’t the case while I was playing sports growing up; the constant slow pain of cross-country requires resolve, and I always battled through injury in football, basketball and baseball. I once played an entire season of indoor soccer with two pulled quadriceps (it wasn’t fun). But I’ve felt more reactive as I’ve gotten older. More reactive to societal vibes, to my aging body, to my perceived place in life. I’ve too easily slipped into self-pity, too regularly decried ‘woe is me.’ 

Always looking forward - Maui, February 2021

I think part of the journey of life is bouncing back. It’s dealing with the hardships, and moving through them, moving past them. There are many axioms in our culture that illustrate this. There’s the quote by Charles R. Swindoll, “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” This attitudinal lineage goes all the way back to the Serenity Prayer, with the most well-known version of the line: “God grant me the grace to accept the things I cannot change and to know the difference….” We get to choose to accept our fate and fortune, and choose how to act next. Viktor Frankl taught me that, but back to him later.

My Recent Influences: Lex, Star Trek, and the Love of my life

About a week ago I finished the Lex Fridman Neuralink podcast episode and I was moved hearing Noland Arbaugh speak—he is the first human to have a Neuralink device implanted in his brain. Noland talked so simply about letting things go, about not getting down about his disability in general. I thought to myself, would I be like that? Or would I be “down in the dumps,” (to use his words) for the rest of my life? I feared the answer to that question. His story was not only inspiring, but it made me recognize my fortune. What business do I have pitying myself when I have it so good compared to him? I can walk and swim and run and jump and play sports. I have nothing to complain about, and I should be more resilient. I have a duty, a responsibility to be more resilient. A responsibility to myself, to give myself the best life possible.

Maybe I’ve just been thinking about all this because of Star Trek. I just finished watching the most recent reboot trilogy. It struck me that James Kirk is the epitome of resiliency. No matter the odds or the situation, he pursues whatever course of action secures victory. He does this repeatedly in the films, even in “no win scenarios.” Danger and disappointment don’t bother him, don’t seem to affect him. Spock continually advocates for applied logic, and Kirk regularly rejects the logic if it doesn’t help him achieve his goal. Knowing salvation is unlikely does not impede or even affect his pursuit of it. This is the most admirable character trait in these films—Kirk’s insistence to ‘boldly go.’ We can defy the odds simply because we choose to defy them; if we choose to be resilient.

Most importantly, my partner has inspired my renewed sense of resiliency. She recently had to fill out a questionnaire before a checkup. On the form she repeatedly checked various boxes signifying her exposure to trauma during her upbringing. She’s overcome more than I have ever faced. Ordinarily this trigger a reason for the doctor to evaluate her mental health (Childhood trauma doesn’t define us, but studies have shown it can significantly impact our wellbeing into adulthood). But her resiliency scores were incredibly high—every single question received full marks in terms of resiliency. And I’m continuously amazed by how much initiative and agency she takes in her life, how her upbringing has not defined her. She is the confident, secure and considerate person she is today, I believe, because she has been impervious to that 10%, the “what happens to her.” She lives her life fully within the 90%. She and only she chooses her path forward.

Full Circle after 14 years

My second home, Cape Town, from atop Lion's Head - September 2011

I’ve written previously about my concept of Respect, Responsibility and Resolve. It was something I developed while living outside Cape Town, South Africa back in 2011. Without internet or TV, I read and wrote a lot. I came up with these three ‘R’ tenants—words to live my life by. To have respect for everyone and everything. That was the foundation. To embrace responsibility in my life—I was a young dumb kid discovering his passion for education and teaching, and I was learning what it meant to pursue life earnestly. The last part of the equation was resolve—once I had respect and understood my responsibility, I needed the resolve to pursue my wildest dreams, to pursue the life I wanted, despite any unfavorable circumstances. I was poor and finding my way in life. I realized education was the most important thing in the world, that through education we could solve our problems as a species. We could connect across cultures and continents, as I was doing at the time with my students from all over the world. I resolved to myself, in those few months living in Cape Town as a 22 year old, that I would dedicate my life to education. It was the first time in my life that I understood resolve and fully embraced it.

Fourteen years later, I’ve come back to that last tenant. Resolve is resiliency. They are two near synonyms: resolve refers to unwavering determination toward one’s purpose, while resiliency concerns one’s ability to withstand and adapt to adversity.

And they are both fully within our control. We can choose to be resilient, despite our circumstances. No matter how fortunate or cursed we may feel, we always have the choice to move forward, to move past difficulty, into the future. This is a wonderful, liberating feeling. It reminds me of the optimism and appreciation for life I felt when I read Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning in 2018. He talks about the ability to ‘choose one’s way in life,’ to choose our experience. This is essentially what resiliency is. It’s the confidence in our own agency, despite our environment or external circumstances. The very act that we have a choice makes resiliency easier. Understanding that while something may be hard, we still have the power to choose to pursue it—this itself makes it more likely to happen, makes it easier for the actual pursuit itself. The ability to have resiliency makes resiliency easier.

Resiliency as a Species

We can also consider the responsibility we have to be self reliant, to hold resolve. We are each one person within a long lineage of humans. Generations upon generations of ancestors came before us and faced hardship. They were resilient and survived, passing on their genes to the next generation, thousands of times, in order to produce us. That means there’s a resiliency in us that has been passed down, that we’ve inherited from them. We just need to act on it.

Homo sapiens have resisted and refused their plight, adapted to the circumstances afforded them by Earth and Mother Nature for hundreds of thousands of years. It’s all resulted in us, right now. We have to respect this as a miracle and to embrace the responsibility of continuing the flame of human consciousness in the universe. The beauty is not just our choice to embrace Resolve, but our opportunity to enjoy its repercussions: the feeling of agency, the sense of confidence and purpose we can derive from our own personal freedom to contribute to the universe. Every human on the planet, every person who has ever lived faces this opportunity, to choose one’s own way. Will we embrace resiliency as individuals and resolve to work collectively as a species? We have inherited the required trait—we control the path to salvation.

Rocket Ride

Ricky wasn't really interested. He just wanted to play baseball. This was going to cost him the whole weekend, and there was definitely no baseball in space.

It was his school’s turn to go up to orbit. Part of a new federal program, all public schools were sending their 8th grade classes on a NASA space shuttle for a few hours, to "see the Earth as it really was." It started last year, and Ricky had been disinterested since the announcement by Congress. He had never really been into politics.

But although he had pleaded with his mother, she had insisted he go, that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience something most never would. All his paperwork filled out and signed, there was no more arguing—he was going.

"Everyone please take your seats and strap in. NASA staff will come around and ensure you're buckled in properly and securely," Mr. Sorenson called out. Ricky was glad he was accompanying them. Although he wasn't really into science, Mr. Sorenson was his favorite teacher. He was always nice to Ricky, and he did a pretty good job of making science cool, or at least not boring.

It seemed forever for all the checks and preparations to be completed. Many of his classmates were chatting away excitedly, wondering how the “rocket ride” would go, what zero gravity would feel like. A feeling of anxiousness permeated the room. This was a first-time experience for everyone, Mr. Sorenson and the other chaperones included. Only the NASA staff on board had any understanding of what was to come.

The countdown started. Ricky began to feel really nervous. “Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen..." He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His heart started racing. "Four, three, two, one, ignition!" An incredible noise filled his eardrums. The space shuttle began shaking violently, and as he and his classmates were pressed hard against the backs of their seats, he could feel them rising upward in the sky.

"Just keep calm everyone, we'll be up in the atmosphere in less than 4 minutes," the shuttle commander called out. All around him, kids were yelling and screaming, NASA staff and chaperones doing their best to quell their fear. Ricky closed his eyes and tried to block out all the chaos.

Before he knew it, he felt a queasy stomach sensation as the shuttle leveled out. NASA staff began unstrapping, and were floating, actually floating. They maneuvered to each passenger, unbuckling their seatbelts and herding them to windows. A stern looking woman unbuckled Ricky and asked him if he was alright. "Yea I think so," he mumbled. She nodded, unsmiling, and gently but firmly guided his wrist to the nearest window before tethering him to the railing.

It was here, in that first moment of looking out, that changed Ricky's life. He was transfixed with the vast Earth stretched out before him, a giant, glowing surface, more brilliant blue than he could imagine. There was an enormous weight to what he was viewing, this magnificent sphere occupying his whole field of vision. Thousands of miles below, he could see pure white swirls of cloud and the outline of a continent.

"That's Asia, can you see the steppes of China and Mongolia?" Mr. Sorenson asked him. Ricky hadn’t noticed him, being so enraptured with the view. "It looks so... beautiful,” Ricky commented softly. He felt lame using that word—​beautiful? But that was all he could muster. He couldn't describe how he felt, the emotions he was feeling.

"I know what you mean… I agree,” Mr. Sorenson replied. “It’s the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I can't believe we live on such a miracle." They floated there silently, noses and finger tips pressed to the glass, hardly aware of anything else around them.

"Notice there are no lines down there," one of the NASA staff was saying. "We're looking down on one planet, the only one we've got. This is the only known place in the universe to have oxygen, to have an atmosphere and ecosystem capable of sustaining life. It's all we've got. We need to take care of it."

Ricky couldn't believe how he felt. He could barely process everything. This was it. This was his planet. This was his home. He felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the Earth, for all the people on it, for all the people he knew. He would never forget this. He was part of a miracle, and he had no choice now but to treasure it.

Redding and the Density Divide

As a Bay Area native, Redding is an interesting place. Crossing over the freeway overpasses you see the surrounding mountains, and it’s beautiful. It was my second visit, and while the city has its warts (as all do), it also exudes a rustic, forgotten charm. I understand why my family finds its vicinity to nature appealing. Redding is “out of the way from everything,” and many find that peaceful. Driving home, snowcapped Mount Shasta dominated the rear-view mirror, and we had views of prominent Lassen Peak to the left. Both were splendent; there are no mountains like that in the South Bay.

Sundial Bridge in the heart of Redding

The pace of life is different in Redding. While going to the grocery store and driving around it was clear people move slowly. They worry less about getting somewhere, and overall seem less tense—there’s less association with time. We walked around our Airbnb neighborhood, and it felt different. Every fourth or fifth house had a large Trump sign or banner somewhere in the front yard, something you don’t see in Santa Clara. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I thought to myself…

People who live in the city and those who live in the countryside face a large experiential divide. It was the largest demarcation between the original colonies and early states: economies, living conditions, and lifestyle were all different. People in the city enjoy the hustle and bustle. They appreciate the vast number of food choices, all the entertainment options. People in the country enjoy the connection with nature, appreciate the peace in being left alone, and like what’s familiar.

There’s an inherent element of self-reliance among rural people; if you can’t take care of yourself, you fail. In old times, it meant you didn’t survive. They pride themselves on their ability to thrive on their own. City dwellers rely on services more. Traditionally there’s no space to raise animals or crops, to grow your own food. They specialize in something that adds a piece of value to the societal whole. That specialized value converts into currency, which they use to fill out the rest of their lives, outsourcing much that country folk engage in daily. City folk are specialists, rural folk are generalists.

The remains of Whiskeytown in Shasta County

I think this is one of the prime distinctions in American life and thus America politics. The ‘swing states,’ those that actually determine elections, have a mix of both lifestyles. Ohio, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin have larger, liberal cities, but also many conservatives across large swaths of rural land. These states hold a balance between the specialization and services and the generalism and self reliance. Those two lived experiences differ greatly, and their proponents tend to vote very differently.

This divide seems to directly stem from the density of land, the density of living. When you’re forced to be self reliant due to lack of services, you need many skills just for daily life. That makes you more accustomed to the familiar, because you’re the one that has to solve your problems. The fewer surprises the better. Meanwhile urbanites are constantly affronted with change. They must continuously adapt to novel situations, and this leads to more openness, more acceptance of a variety of experience. They are regularly exposed to what they can’t control, and regularly utilize services that resolve problems. Driving across town in the City is a pain, so San Franciscans take public transit or ride shares.

This difference in density is one of the fundamental causes of liberalism and conservatism. People often cite wealth and the reluctance around taxes, but that’s only one part of the story. The wealthy avoid high taxes whether they live in Atherton or Russian Hill. “Ordinary” people living in cities don’t want to pay taxes any more than those in rural areas, they just value services above solitude.

Whiskeytown National Recreation Area in early Spring, 2021

And yet, these differences are still small compared to the larger picture. We might go about our days differently, but we still live the same days: 24 hours at a time, seeking health, wealth, prosperity and peace for our tribe. We may have varying tolerance for taxes, rely on services to a different degree, but we still all want the same things. Our methods are simply different. Our pursuit of meaning, the means to which we pursue meaning, still resemble one singular human path. Our children still go to school. None of us want cancer or dementia or heart disease. We all want our children to live long, healthy excellent lives. We all want freedom. Are we really any different?

Leaning into the divide between metropolitans and farmers is not the answer. The answer is to recognize the liberal-conservative divide for what it actually is: tiny variation within the woven fabric of humanity.

Redding is not that far from me. I woke up and did my Morning Routine, like always. I went to get bagels. My wife and I sat and had breakfast and coffee. We packed. Then we left to drive up there. Four hours later, we were in a very different, very beautiful place. I felt myself sticking out at the gas stations and grocery stores wearing traditional Silicon Valley garb: dress shorts and a short sleeve button up, complete with Xero Sandals and an Apple Watch with a LGBT rainbow wristband. And yet, nobody cared. The locals in Redding were nothing but nice. Am I that different from them? We’re all trying to make our way in life.

That’s our purpose in our short time here, to figure life out. And in my experience, whether in Redding or Silicon Valley, China or South Africa, it’s much better to do that together.

AB2901 Open Letter to the California State Senate

To the California State Senate:

I'm writing to implore you to uphold your duty as elected officials and to advocate for the passing of The Pregnancy Leave for Educators Act (AB2901). Voting "yes" on AB2901 affirms California's commitment to providing the best education possible.

Teachers should have the best parental leave in the state. There are many reasons for this, but it comes down to this: teaching is the most important job in the world. We must allow teachers to recover from birthing their children and give them time to bond with their newborns—so they will return to the profession.

Working with students on a science project in Arusha, Tanzania - November 2019

Without teachers, we don't have astronauts, engineers, doctors or lawyers. Good teachers are fundamental to a strong education, the prerequisite for skill and knowledge acquisition. Without teachers, our future disappears because we are unable to educate and train the next generation.

Because here's the elephant in the room: teaching is hard, and people are leaving the profession. California has the 4th largest teaching shortage in the country. We can debate the causes of this distressing trend, but the bottom line is we are losing teachers precisely when we need them more than ever.

What's one way to reverse this trend? Create incentives for people to join and remain in the field. If teachers are granted the humane perk of fair parental leave, they'll want to return to their classrooms. With proper parental leave, teachers can rest and recover from childbirth, one of the most profound moments of their lives, before returning to their important, and inherently stressful, jobs.

Learning is an amazing thing to watch

Because the fact of the matter is teachers are tired. “Burnout” is the buzzword among teachers. And who can blame them? They are accountable to the children they teach, those children's parents, the administrations and school districts, and society at large. Providing sufficient parental leave will help combat burnout and incentivize retention.

Teachers are called to the profession, but they're barely hanging on right now. AB2901 is being closely followed. If it doesn't pass, thousands will be angry, and California cannot afford the resulting dire consequences. California can't afford this runaway train of teacher shortages. Our future depends on it. We need to bring people back to the profession by providing reasons to come back. And shouldn't teachers have the same perks as everyone else?

It's time for the Golden State to lead again; to lead the country, and the world. California created the first public library in the 1800’s and led the charge in protecting the environment through emissions standards legislation in the early 1960’s. It's 2024—in these uncertain times, California should resume its place as a world leader in public policy and as a force for good.

You have the power to take the first step. You can vote "yes" on AB2901 to show teachers you value their service and sacrifice. You can incentivize more people to join the teaching ranks, so that California provides the best education possible to its citizens. You can change the world for the better. Will you?

Thank you,

Trevor, Trevor Allen Vision

Hiking Matters

A walk is not a hike. And there’s a clear difference.

Four dimensions differentiate hikes from walks:

Terrain. On a hike you negotiate natural terrain—dirt, rocks, or sand— on some kind of trail. You frequently have to watch your feet and choose your path, otherwise you’ll trip on rocks or roots. The terrain is usually uneven, necessitating selective footwear. Walks occur on some manmade material or such well trodden pathway it might as well be manmade. You can wear flip flops on walks. Here’s a simple litmus test: did you think about what shoes to wear? If not, it’s not a hike.

Distance. Going for a walk is easy, it’s casual, it’s nonchalant. Spur of the moment you can just decide to go. A hike? Then there are consequences. You’ll likely still be hiking an hour later, and you’ll be exerting effort. Walks can be long, but hikes always are—unless they score excessively high in one of the next two dimensions. People feel a sense of accomplishment when they finish a hike, because a hike isn’t a 1 mile loop around the pond by their house.

Looking toward the Bay atop Windy Hill - June 2023

Elevation. Hikes aren’t flat. We enjoy hiking Windy Hill because it’s relatively short on a clear dirt path. What makes it a hike? The 1,000 foot elevation gain to the top, from where you can view the Pacific Ocean and the San Francisco Bay simultaneously. I’m pouring sweat by the time we reach the summit. Many pursue hikes for views of the surrounds. In order to get those views, you need a hill. Even hikes ending in waterfalls need some type of elevation to exist—the water has to “fall off” something. And that sense of accomplishment? You feel it when you’ve climbed something, instead of “just” walking a couple flat miles. 

Nature. A walk can circle a city block. You go on a hike because it’s in nature. You hear the songs of birds, the rustling of squirrels in the underbrush, perhaps the trickling sound of running water. You’re out in the elements, you acutely feel temperature change, even if just from sun to shade. You’re aware of the wind picking up, of the foliage changing. This immersion within nature is a hike prerequisite, but not necessarily a walk. 

Say we use a famous waterfall to contextualize these dimensions:

The start of Lower Yosemite Fall Trail - July 2024

In July my wife and I walked the Lower Yosemite Fall Trail. The loop is paved and almost entirely flat, measuring about a mile. You get an amazing view of Yosemite Falls (the tallest waterfall in North America), and experience some forest along the route, but you’re never fully immersed in nature due to the throngs of people and proximity to the main road. The terrain is negligible, the grade is almost nonexistent, and it’s short. The Lower Yosemite Fall Trail is a walk. Yosemite Falls Trail, meanwhile, qualifies as a hike. You must climb 2,700 feet up to the top of the granite cliff where the waterfall begins its plunge. The trail isn’t paved — it’s a root and rocked-filled dirt path that winds its way up from the valley floor. There are switchbacks, and switchbacks, and switchbacks… and you are immersed in nature throughout the hike. There are mesmerizing views of the falls, Half Dome, and the picturesque valley floor far below. Yosemite Falls Trail is a spectacular 7 mile hike.

So hikes are inherently out in nature and involve elevation and long distances on natural terrain. Who cares? Why does this even matter?

Sometimes I wonder if the very simple things can change the world—like getting out in nature and going on a hike. What if more people hiking more often is part of the solution? What if hiking provides the needed respite, the connection with Mother Earth, that empowers us to be better to each other, to be better humans? We are connected to this planet and all life on it. We have been for millennia, since the dawn of our species. Hiking enables us to live that experience, and maybe to understand that we’re all part of one beautiful system, that we are one.

Upper Yosemite Falls with Half Dome looming in the background - April 2017

Written Contribution to the Universe

I write because I want to contribute to the universe, I want to make an impact on the world. That’s my why. I want to do this because I believe it’s the purpose of life, to contribute to this particle soup of which we exist in and are a part of. A life well lived is to be impactful, to somehow change the world or make the universe better for our species, for all species on Earth, for all life. To make the universe better, cooler, more awesome. We are the manifestation of reality, the manifestation of the universe expressing itself. It’s actually utterly amazing when you consider it, and I am it. So I write to contribute something epic.

Boarding a plane in the Okavango Delta with my Granny in 2010 during my first visit to Africa

What’s value? What can I uniquely provide to the world? I feel I have a unique perspective on humanity and the planet because of my travels and upbringing. Not only have I been fortunate to travel extensively, but my parents have—they raised me in it. So the two people who have sculpted my personality the most have been to and seen many places. What’s more, all four of my grandparents traveled. I spent more time with my Granny and Grandpa, my mom’s parents, seeing them multiple times a month growing up. Their love and affection was grounded within an optimistic, expansive view of the world. I’ve spent less time with my dad’s parents, my Grandma and Grandpa, but they have “lived the world” more than anyone I know: they’ve lived on at least 4 continents (North and South America, Africa, and Asia) and several countries. This was back in a different time, before Instagram and the internet, when traveling and living abroad weren’t cool or popular. I still marvel at their experiences and stories. Their lives have been, for lack of a better word, cool. And all of this genealogical travel has shaped who I am today.

What is so different about my perspective? It may not be radical, but I truly see humans as one species, not a collection of countries or cultures. I genuinely believe, and have evidence through my travels, that we are more similar than we are different. People sometimes take this as an admonishment of cultural diversity, even whitewashing. But I couldn’t mean anything further from this. I’ve lived in China, a country with a completely different language and history. I’ve lived in South Africa, whose history and culture has become a smorgasbord over the centuries. I’ve spent months in East Africa, a place still suffering from the ravages of 19th century colonialism. These places couldn’t be more different than each other or where I grew up in San Jose California, the capital of Silicon Valley… as a tall, blonde-haired blue-eyed white heterosexual male from a middle class family. I recognize these differences in culture because I’ve immersed myself in all of them.

Local scene from Beijing, China, spring of 2013

But I still believe these differences remain superficial, from a certain perspective. Did I eat completely different foods in Africa and Asia? You bet. I still remember my first couple weeks in China, when I roamed the streets of Beijing alone, looking for restaurants. I would find one, hand-sign my way to a table, and open up the menu handed to me, knowing it would be completely indecipherable. I would point at something random, and the waitress would acknowledge my choice and bring it to me (quickly, too: in China most dishes can be prepared in less than 10 minutes, which is pretty crazy considering how varied their food is). I ate things I couldn’t even identify. The food culture couldn’t have been more different than the standard American fare I was used to growing up. But to think about it slightly differently—did I eat food? Yep, along with all the other 1.3 billion Chinese people. As did all the cohabitants of South Africa or Tanzania. In fact, all the humans I’ve ever come across in this vast world eat food. We all sleep too, around 8 hours a day. We all share the same biological processes, i.e. we all circulate blood and breathe air and sweat and poop.

What’s more, we all want the same things. We all seek financial security. We all want purpose, to find some meaning in our lives. We all try to live long healthy lives. We all want to have fun. We all want to support and protect and spend time with our families—or as I like to use the term, our tribe: the small group of people we most associate with, care the most for, and spend the most time with. We all love. From my perspective, when you consider all these similarities between us, the differences in geography and history and culture seem fairly small. Because they’re less important than these most important things, these elements of health, wealth, time and love. If we forced every person on Earth to live under some regime that optimized those four dimensions, would any nation or cultural group of people be disproportionately more unhappy than all the rest? No. The joy would be egalitarian. (For the record, I’m not at all advocating for any authoritarian system of wellbeing for everyone). And this doesn’t mean we can’t highlight and celebrate our differences either.

This is where my head is at with TAV. I want to convince people I’m right—that we are more similar than we are different, globally, across the entire planet. And I want to show people that adopting such a lens of our species and the world is a good thing—it will bring security, prosperity, health, and happiness to us all. Maybe we have to start by proving such “global consciousness” is possible. Because if we can believe in it, we can argue over it, and eventually pursue it. This is what I’m working towards. This is my deepest belief and my boldest possible pursuit of purpose. Writing about it gets it out there on the interwebs. You reading about it plants the seedling of a united humanity. And there’s more coming, more that will inspire change. Will you join me?

One Little Piece

Everything’s going to be alright. No matter the course of our lives, we get to be here in this incredible universe together. We get to be one little piece of it, no matter what happens. I try to remember this when life seems mundane. Because it’s a big beautiful amazing world.

Changing Together

The world is changing, as it always is. Part of being human is adapting with it, something our species has been doing for millennia. By developing global consciousness we can impact the future of change as never before. Will we unite?

Experiencing Earth

I was going through pictures on my computer this evening and I was struck by Earth’s majesty. I don’t think there’s any other word that captures it. There is glorious architecture in Prague and awe-inspiring wildlife in the Serengeti. There are thousands of waterfalls all over Earth right now, their streams gushing over cliffs as you read this, all the time. One can visit the polar cold or the humid jungles on this planet. Earth truly is a miracle. Life is enriched when we go out and experience it.

Reading Other Worlds

Immersing yourself into stories changes you. When you imagine and accept other worlds and other realities, your perspective enlarges. This enables us to be more thoughtful and considerate, because we have more “experience” in uncertainty and the unknown. Maybe the world can come together if we simply read more.

Choosing Love and Beating Cancer

Cancer has greatly affected my life: all four of my grandparents have fought it. Two of them are no longer here because of this horrific disease.

So I'm running my first ever Half Marathon to honor Augie, Doris, Shirley and Dick - four of the most important people in my life. I've never ran this far before, and my goal is to complete the race in under 2 hours. I'm nervous, but I know this race is nothing compared to what they faced.

I want to live in a world in which grandparents meet the spouses of their grandchildren; a world in which grandparents play with their great grandchildren. A world in which we have beaten cancer.

Please consider sharing or donating to my fundraiser to give hope to a cancer-free world. Together, we can do this. We can end cancer.

Thank you.

Lessons from Harry Truman

What are the lessons I’ve learned from former U.S. President Harry S. Truman?

• Always act with integrity and do what's right

• Be honest - it makes life simpler

• Work as hard as you can to make an impact on the world

• Action matters, and we must move swiftly to act

These tenets are not reserved solely for elected officials, but can be employed by every American citizen. If we all strive to act like Harry Truman, we can build not just a better country, but a more just and and prosperous world.

Christmas Cards in August

We’ve never composed a Christmas Card, it just hasn’t been our thing. But I’ve always thought a good way to create one would be to write it throughout the year to better capture all the highlights.

I similarly keep a note on my phone titled “Our Year Together” to record all the joyous memories over each of the twelve months. They can be simple things like dinner and dice with the folks, or birthday parties or baseball games. A few times each year, and always at the end, we review the wonderful experiences. It keeps us centered and grateful.

This portable time machine can work wonders on your psychology. There is always something to be grateful for. And life is better when we’re grateful. Because it really is beautiful.