To Measure Again

Routine defines adulthood. We rise each morning and ready ourselves for work that never fully satisfies. Then, we walk out the door facing demanding jobs and schedules that rarely surprise us. Life in the office or on the job site offers little to measure ourselves against, beyond the success of others. Our social calendars are often where we can find the most authentic versions of ourselves. Even these moments can feel like boxes to be checked.  

Expectations settle us into a routine. Society and our economy have conditioned us to spend most of our lives at work. Play is secondary. Anything meant to test or a genuine opportunity to grow, we place in boxes marked “chaos.” Chaos disturbs the routine. Nothing must disturb the routine. We can only satiate the gluttony of responsibilities with routine. To veer from this course might mean a characterization few adults would wear with pride. Irresponsibility has no place here.  

Stepping back from the work I find valuable and mindful of what brings me joy, I ask a deeply personal question. If you have stumbled upon this little corner of the internet in search of some inspiration, I am hoping the same will be true for you. How am I measuring this life? Digging deeper, another question rises to the surface. What am I doing to position myself in unforeseen places that can transform me significantly?  

I do not want to be a product of routine. I have written these words before, but it bears repeating. I wholeheartedly reject the tyranny of the expected. For me, there is no growth there and where growth does not exist, a life well lived shows no signs of possibility.  

Despite my attempts to avoid the expected, I still live a routine life. At 6 AM, my alarm clock interrupts the silence. Shocked back into the world, I prepare for my day in the same way. I drive to work the same way. Variations of familiar projects meet me at the office. I return home to find some joy in my hobbies. I make dinner, watch television, lay down for the night, and drift off to sleep, hoping the next day will be different.  

On my calendar, inside the context of a well-crafted schedule, I place opportunities to defy routine. Yet even these moments seem too planned to offer radical outcomes. I need more than vacations in far-flung lands to measure the value of a life well lived.  

These sorts of experiences are not foreign to me. They met me in moves from Oklahoma to Seattle, Seattle to Los Angeles, and from Los Angeles back to Seattle again. I found them on first dates. I held them at the beginning of the Pacific Crest Trail and chased them down the Colorado Trail. In smaller ways, they were new hobbies, new clubs, and new people. Like attempting to hold sunlight in the palms of my hands, they escaped. They were fleeting moments that gave way to routine. I wish they would stick around a little longer.  

Knowing this can never be the case, measuring again becomes its own pursuit. It becomes something to dedicate my time and talents. Placing myself in unfamiliar locations and settings becomes a chance to rewrite the script and experience life in new ways. If one can stay dedicated to this idea, I wholeheartedly believe they will measure their lives a success. In the end, this is all I want. It is also everything I want for you.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan 

To the Next Generation

These words are my own. I write them as a card-carrying member of the millennial generation.  

Coming of age during the turn of the century was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience. Like generations before me, both domestic and global events, coupled with the fallout from a constantly connected world, defined my life and the lives of my generation.

We witnessed the fall of communism and looked out at a world where the United States of America emerged as a lone superpower. Domestic terrorism and inner-city crime filled us with a fear that seemed inescapable. Scandal consumed our institutions. These scandals destroyed our trust in government, churches, and schools. “Generation Lockdown” began with us and continues to this day. 9/11 was a moment in history none of us will ever forget. American innocence seemed to be lost forever. The empire showed cracks and those forcing the collapse were coming from within and outside the country. There were glimmers of hope, but fear, xenophobia, racism, and a reintroduction to white nationalism (something that never really went away). Finally, in a moment that could have drawn us closer together, a global pandemic, far more was lost than just lives. A cultural wedge was driven between our people, which may serve as further evidence of our downfall.  

At the same time, we were being raised by, perhaps, the worst generation in human history. Baby Boomers, who have dominated much of the cultural landscape for far too long. They grew up longing for a world of peace, love, and understanding. They preached acceptance, tolerance, and equality. Then, when things got difficult, they moved to the suburbs, built silos, embraced radical conservative ideology, and elected Ronald Reagan.  

They are a generation of sellouts and sociopaths. They were quick to hand out praise in the form of ribbons and trophies and then complained we were a generation of spoiled, overpraised youth, as if we bought the trophies for ourselves. They embraced diversity, but only from afar. They taught peace and then falsified reasons for war. Love was a lesson of their youth, but they worked tirelessly to ensure religion and tradition kept people from expressing that love. They looted and destroyed the environment for all it is worth. With hands caught in the cookie jar, they denied it all in the name of never-ending profits.

We are a product of the generation who raised us. I fear we have made things worse for you. As I write this, we are raising the next generation and the generation who will follow in your footsteps. I hope we are undoing generational harm, but only you can be the judge of that. I hope you fulfill promises that were made to us. Already, I am seeing evidence you will.  

You are demanding equity, diversity, and inclusion. Your reactions to those who are different are not so rigid. I see your demands for a country that is fair and just. You have seen the harm of wealth concentrated in the hands of the few while the many struggle and go hungry. You demand accountability from your government and are not afraid to shame them into action. Every tool is at your disposal, and you possess little fear of fighting the good fight. You demand better from your institutions. If they fail, I see you replacing them, hoping to construct something better. Finally, you see the harm we have caused this planet. You are the generation with whom course reversal is possible.  

Generation Z, you are the generation I hoped we would have been. Bloodied, we could not leave you a world that feels like a better place. I am confident you can succeed where we failed.  

As you go about this work, be gentle on yourselves. The American empire is on the verge of being lost forever. The loudest voices in the room will scream of this shame, but I would like you to question whether this should be an empire at all. Instead of military might, let’s win the war of ideas. Let us be true stewards of democracy, fairness, equity, and environmental protection. Instead of arms races, let’s work to win the hearts and minds of people with our words. Words should never be enough. Our actions must speak much louder. In my estimation, this is the only way we can wash some of this blood from our hands.  

Make no mistake, some of this blood is yours. “Generation Lockdown” must end with you. Building idols out of guns and a false god out of the 2nd Amendment must end with you. So should the inner-city violence and rural desperation. We are too quick to reach for weapons and too slow to find understanding. This will be one of the monumental challenges before your generation, but it must be the cause of your generation. How you decide to treat each other will feel like circles in a pond after a rock has entered its depths. Those ripples can bring about waves of change or they can be tsunamis of destruction. Again, the choice is yours.  

The generation who raised us never apologized for their choices, but I will. Where we have failed you, please know I am deeply sorry. While I have spent my entire adult life in the service of others by working in the nonprofit sector, I know there is so much more that I could have done. I could have challenged myself to be more involved in radical change. These institutions who constantly fail us could have known my name. For failing you, I am sorry.  

As I approach the middle of my hill, please know that I am not moving to the suburbs and fencing myself in anytime soon. If you will have me, I am still willing to work alongside you. If we are honest, the battle before you cannot be won by you alone. It will take all of us. As a member of the millennial generation, I am asking a simple question. Where do you need me?  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

Now the World Knows

Leaving has become my thing. For 27 years, I held a place dear. The people of Oklahoma, my family, and my friends meant everything to me. They were my whole world. Then, one day and seemingly out of the blue, I no longer saw myself in the flag of the place where I was born. For my mental health, I had to leave.

Seattle became the next place to hold dear. My first six months were not easy. More than once I thought to myself, you have made a tremendous mistake. Soon, I found my tribe, convinced another lost Oklahoman to make a dramatic change, came out, and then I fell in love. Then, one day and seemingly out of the blue, I found myself growing restless once again. Grasping at new opportunities, we chose to leave.

Los Angeles became the next place to hold dear. For two years, I was torn between the place I just left and where I found myself. Still, I plowed forward, dug into meaningful work, got involved, found a new group of friends, and became obsessed with a grand quest. Then, one day and seemingly out of the blue, I was back in Seattle in the middle of a global pandemic with no real options.

Seattle has once again become a place to hold dear. Knowing this, I am flooded with questions and no easy answers…

Has leaving become easy for me? Are the people in my life just placeholders? Should people be fearful of me leaving? Will I just hurt them? Will I leave something better as soon as an opportunity presents itself?

I am just beginning to explore the answers to these questions. Simply and at this moment, I know these things to be true.

The people in my life matter. No matter how long I call a place home, leaving people I love is never easy. Despite the distance or the direction the wind blows, I will always do my best to maintain the relationships in my life. With that said, there is no way to know what the future holds, and I will never deny myself an opportunity to do meaningful work on a grander scale or experience something new. So, yes, the people in my life should be fearful of me leaving again. It is never my intention to hurt anyone and I value the quality of friends over the quantity. I hope this means we can be more than “single-serving” friends.

Seattle is the place to hold dear. In the next chapter of my life, I will find myself supporting my partner as he chases his dreams. This might mean Seattle, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, Atlanta… One day and seemingly out of the blue, we may be gone again flying in defiance of a normal life. Know this, leaving is never easy.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

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Point B: The Great Southwest

Driving Away from LA

I left early in the morning. Before traffic could come alive, the rubber of my tires was warm, and I found myself inching closer to the state line. I am driving to my parent’s home in Oklahoma. In Elk City, I will park my car, spend some time with my parents, fly back to LA, finish up work/moving, and then begin hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. To many, I assume this seems like unneeded stress. For me, it is quite the opposite. Driving away from Los Angeles, there is nothing but an open road before me and an opportunity to reflect upon the last three years of my life. There has been so much learned and so much gained. I am overjoyed when I think about all I have accomplished. I am anxious about what comes next.

A Road Trip

Road trips always seem to present themselves at the exact moment I need their redemptive power. Exploring this country of ours, I find myself lost in thought. I meditate on successes and failures. I scheme and plan for the future. Beyond a hiking trail, I do not find a lot of opportunities for this sort of searching. So, while the miles may be long and boredom will show itself, I am grateful. I can think of no better exercise before beginning a new chapter in my life.

Northern Arizona/Southern Utah

Northern Arizona and Southern Utah are bright gems in our country’s collection of priceless jewels. Rounding bends and lost within roads cutting through canyon walls, I found myself speechless. At other times, I am only capable of uttering, wow. At times, the sheer beauty of it all is too much to handle. More than once, I pull off the road to snap photos, search for the perfect song to encapsulate the moment, and just absorb the vista. I am a lucky man indeed and moments such as these are proof.

Page, Arizona

Page, Arizona is the capital of all this beauty. As I weave across the state line, I finally arrive at my resting spot for the night. Soon, I find myself exploring my adopted home for the evening. In every direction is a view of unimaginable beauty. Deep lakes, dramatic canyons, and in the distance, Flagstaff and her awe-inspiring peak, each of the views inspire me. Once again, I am a lucky man I tell myself.  

Monument Valley

Monument Valley has been on my bucket list since I was a little kid watching westerns with my dad. I have always dreamed of a long road trip to visit these mystical carvings in the desert. As I enter the Navajo Nation and the sacred space of Monument Valley, I find myself brought to tears. Realizing a dream always does this to me. Driving around taking photos and attempting to capture a moment in time, I can only think of all the people I wish were with me right now. Tim Hendrix and my father would have loved to explore this place.

California v. Texas

I cannot linger for long. I need to get to my parent’s house. As I cross into New Mexico and then into Texas, my California license plate announces my arrival. With nothing better to do, I dream up comments made by Texans who see my plates. I think of their cliches, expectations, and presumptions. I assume their judgments before they are ever uttered. California is a paradox and Los Angeles is not everything that is advertised, but I find myself willing to defend her. Perhaps this place had a bigger impact on me than I realized.

Home Before The PCT

A visit to my parent’s house before the Pacific Crest Trail is essential. They may have not said it out loud, but I know they are worried. A six-month hike and camping outside every night are outside of my character. This trip is about reassuring their worried minds. I want them to be at ease. For my mom, this is a heavy lift. Worrying about me is in her nature and I absolutely love her for it.

LA, One More Time

Before I know it, this journey is over, and I am on a flight back to Los Angeles. Before me, I will finish moving out of my apartment. I will complete my work at The Center. I will attend a going-away party and then I will begin hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I would not dare say it out loud, but I am scared. This is a lot of change all at once. I feel like a radically different person at the age of 36. How will I change in the next six months?

Be good to each other,

Nathan 

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One Year from Now

The month is June. The year is 2020. Who will I be one year from now? The work of Skid Row Housing Trust will be behind me. Los Angeles will be a distant memory. My partner will be miles away from me. A trail will be the highway that moves me closer to a place I should have never left. Leaving these experiences behind and gaining new ones will change me. Yet, I cannot help but wonder who I will be in June of 2020.

The month is June. The year is 2020. How will time and place be different from now? In the non-traditional sense of the word, I will be homeless. Every night, I will fall asleep beneath stars; a canopy of dots luring me to sleep. Every day will consist of a nomadic life but instead of chasing the herd, we will find ourselves focused concretely on Canada. That wooden terminus is the finish line, but it isn’t the goal.

The month is June. The year is 2020. Who will my partner be? Distance will become us, and it will attempt to define, but only if we let it. Change for him will be inevitable. He will be forced to walk his own journey. It may not be a physical path, but his strength will be tested, nonetheless. For some, this may be a scary proposition, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel. The trials and fires of life are meant to test us

The month is June. The year is 2020. Who will we be as a couple? If we can survive this time apart from each other then there is no doubt in my mind about the future. Time and distance will test our resolve. There will be moments when all we will have to hold is a telephone. It has to be enough. It must be enough. Communication, honesty, and commitment will be key. Everything I know about this relationship tells me we have what it takes to make forever a reality. 2020 will reveal the truth.

The month is June. The year is 2020. The answers to these questions move me to the next adventure. I do not fear the answers. I do not fear the responses. I do not fear the outcomes. I fear never asking these questions in the first place. I fear a mediocre life. I fear dreams left unrealized. I fear not chasing adventure in the first place. Sure, much of my life has not gone according to the script. On more than one occasion, I have defied logic and written my own story. Of all my accomplishments, it is this truth that fills me with the most pride.

Be good to each other,

Nathan 

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Say No to Home

I have said it time and time again since moving away from Oklahoma; I will only move back if my family needs me to be there. Almost two years ago, I was faced with an impossible choice. Do I make good on a promise to return in my family’s hour of need or do I continue with my life on the west coast? At this point in time, it is abundantly clear where we decided to live, but I would like to share with you all what led us to our decision.

Ultimately, I said no to moving home. While Oklahoma will always have a piece of my heart and has come to define much of who I am today, Brandon and I could not see ourselves comfortably living within the confines of the Sooner State. For all the progress Oklahoma has made in recent years, it appears that there are miles to go before my home state reaches diversity and equality among people of varying races, sexual identities, gender expressions, etc. For me these were battles, I was willing to wage. My multi-racial partner, on the other hand, wasn’t up for the challenge. To call a place home, you must feel safe. Brandon didn’t feel safe with the idea of being who he is in Oklahoma; which breaks my heart.

I left Oklahoma because I desired change. I needed to figure out who I was on an emotional, physical, and spiritual level. I needed to come to terms with my beliefs and who I am as a person. I didn’t feel comfortable exploring these fundamental things about myself in Oklahoma, so I fled to one of the furthest corners of the map and did exactly that. Now, I am more comfortable than ever. I am proud of who I am and what I believe. I don’t have it all figured out, but I have space where I am allowed to question boldly. As a couple, I don’t know if we would have felt comfortable marrying, buying a house, and possibly raising kids in Oklahoma. So, rightly or wrongly, we said no to home. I tell this story as a warning. I am a native son who thought about returning home but thought better of it. Those who lead Oklahoma and make decisions for her should know that.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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Born Again to Be Born Again

We are born to die;

Such a defeating way to look at the world. 

It ignores the possibility of progress and hope. 

We are born to live. 

In that view, we move humanity forward. 

Generation after generation is born again. 

We are born to prosper. 

Here, we can make ourselves better. 

Humanity is given a chance to change. 

We are born to embrace the long view. 

What we do now holds weight. 

The world is offered a fighting chance. 

Be good to each other, 

-Nathan

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Things I Used to Believe, Part III

I used to believe the leadership needed to be loud. Leadership needed to be speeches, pep talks, and strategy reinforced to anyone who would listen. As a person, who is attempting to be a leader in his own right, I now realize my arrogance as an extrovert. I looked at the people I admire. They gave big speeches, constantly worked to encourage large swaths of people, and always vocalized the vision and how to get there. In my snobbery, I looked down on those introverts who move mountains more quietly. I thought of them as incapable and unable to motivate others. I am now discovering that I couldn’t have been more wrong.

A leader can be quiet and still be a force to be reckoned. When I think about how Bill Gates has changed philanthropy through his giving and the role he possesses at the Gates Foundation, I don’t see an extrovert changing the world. Without a doubt, he is giving speeches at the UN, using social media channels to influence others, and meeting with heads of state. Still, I see someone who is uncomfortable in those positions. I imagine someone much more comfortable with behind the scenes work, focused on policy, and in the presence of small teams attempting to do the most good.

When I look at my own life, I now realize to lead I don’t need to move masses. I can lead in one-to-one interactions. I can lead a team. I can lead an organization with nothing more than my actions. I can retire notions often used in movies of leaders of rebellions giving big talks about the moment at hand. Instead, I can begin to discover the power of building relationships with those around me. The motivation I hope to amplify can be found in nothing more than my willingness to do good in this world.

To be a leader, it is not necessary to change the world. We are to commit ourselves to the idea of changing someone’s world. When we make this commitment, we set ourselves up to partake in a ripple effect. Our change begins small and works its way outward. With every circle, a larger group of people, places, and things are encircled. Eventually, these ripples will reach the water’s edge. When they do, we should find joy in the distance they have traveled, no matter the size of the body of water.

So, I am here to formally apologize to all those introverts out there changing the world. I see you. I understand you. I respect you. Perhaps, most important of all, I can’t wait to mirror your leadership for a change.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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A Mediocre Life

A mediocre life; a life lived less than well. A life without achievement. A life without purpose. A life of routine and monotony. A life without challenge. A life without impact. A life that is anything but memorable. A life spent just trying to make ends meet. A life without vision. A life lived but not experienced.

When I think of what it means to live a mediocre life, these are the pitfalls that come to my mind. These are choices to be avoided at all cost. These go beyond a fear of missing out or living a life you can brag about to your friends. These are words that take the form of a stake through the heart. These are words, if used to describe me on my deathbed, that would mean time wasted. These are not words without meaning. These are not words without a backstory.

Thinking back on my childhood, I can’t remember a time when my parents told me I couldn’t be whatever I wanted to be. My dreams were never stifled or belittled. My wishes for the future were never childish or impossible. My hopes weren’t fantasy. They were moments in time waiting to be captured. To get there, I needed grit, determination, vision, and commitment. I needed time and patience. I needed to do the work. If I did, everything would have a way of falling into place.

The place where I saw myself changed often and with every milestone in my life. What I wanted to do with my life at 13 is not what is happening at age 34. Priorities shifted, new values were established, and alternative lines were drawn in the sand. Never did I sell out. Never did I accept less than the best. Never did I settle. I continually push, try, fail, and learn all in an effort to honor the aspirations created by the environment I grew up in and the hopes I created for myself.

Still, I am not satisfied and with an intense passion, I hope to never be. There are still corners of this Earth unseen by me. There are cultures unexperienced. There is food that hasn’t been tasted. There is meaningful work still to be done. There are conversations waiting to be had. There is a life to be lived. There is a mediocre life to be avoided.

This drive and determination are a couple of the things I like most about myself. It is the greatest gift ever given to me by my parents. It defines every aspect of my life. It is the message I preach to new parents and those who think the time has passed them by without a chance to truly live. Sure, I am left restless and a hopeless wanderer. I may never know one place or a group of people for long, but I will die having lived. For me, there is nothing better in this world.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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Things I Used to Believe, Part II

For as long as I can remember, music has mattered to me. Collecting tapes, CD’s, and now playlists, digital downloads, and LP’s has been important. I measure myself by the music that matters. In fact, I used to believe you could discover everything you needed to know about a person by hearing the music they consumed. Then something changed.

People began judging me for my taste. Spend enough time with any group of people and the question of what kind of music you listen to will certainly arise. Needing a quick and simple answer, I often tell people I listen to “sad white people music.” Think bands like The National, Death Cab for Cutie, Wilco, etc. Instantly, people think they know me. They build assumptions based on a few bands. These guesses are made without much thought given to an entire catalog or the entirety of my life. An overly simple answer has delivered an overly simple way of looking at the world. It also disrespects the diversity of thought, opinions, and musical expressions that can be found in my collection.

Rock, Alternative, Country, Alt-Country, Rap, Jazz, Electronic, Indie, Acoustic, Jam Bands… The list of genres I adore goes on and on. This is the list I truly want to be judged. This list also reveals something else. As a 34-year-old man, what people think of the music I listen to matters less and less. Likewise, I try my hardest to no longer judge people for their musical affinity. The reason behind the change of heart is simple. All music is trying to say the same thing. Every musical genre man has ever conceived is just an attempt to synthesize the human condition. Sure, they say it differently. Some are overly complex, and others are downright simplistic. Still, they are attempting to express the same feelings just in different ways.

Our music catalogs also express a certain level of growth. As I age, I don’t find myself gravitating to the songs of my youth. I find myself in a constant state of exploration. This is to be expected. I don’t read the same level of books, enjoy the same kind of art, or watch the same programming. My tastes are always evolving and responding to events in my life. Naturally, my sense of musical exploration follows that same slow-moving river.

All of this to say the following, pause next time you feel the need to judge someone for their musical tastes. Life is often more complex than a four-minute song can express. Human beings are more profound than one song can suggest. Indeed, the colors and flavors of life are more varied. We should respect that.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

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