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Good Work Takes Time

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More and more, our society indulges in instant gratification and constant interconnectedness. In some ways, this is quite good. It allows exchange of ideas without barriers, flexible scheduling, and incredible access to information, among other things. One thing I keep coming back to in my journey for creative fulfillment, however, is this: good work takes time.

I used to have a pretty decent understanding of this idea. When I was most serious about cello in high school, I knew that I wasn’t going to make progress without daily effort. That doesn’t mean I actually put in the effort consistently, which is part of the reason my cello playing fizzled out a bit in my early 20s. In art classes, I was happy to go slowly, to be careful with my eye, to revisit incongruities. Even if progress on a specific piece went quickly, I knew that improvement over the long run required patience and persistence.

In the last several years, this idea of dedicating time and effort to something meaningful has become more foreign to me. In the world of consulting, there is generally not time to take things slow, to evaluate and reconsider. Time is money, and more specifically, billable time is money. In large part, the work I’ve done in the past few years has not required any major cognitive leaps or breakthroughs. It seems that in the era of email on your smartphone, people are looking for a quick response rather than a thoughtful one. Of course, the ideal is to deliver both, but for involved and creative problems, it’s just not possible.

Getting back into art and music has reminded me of this consciousness and slowness necessary to dig into something big. The work demands a clean and solid foundation, a place to allow ideas to expand and follow tangents and be nurtured. Had I stuck with some of my recent work longer, or developed more of a passion for it, I could imagine getting to a similar place of focus with that. The break-neck pace and incremental demands, however, made this quite difficult.

For now I am reveling in the slow progress that comes with creative practice. I’ve been doing daily vocal training, drawing exercises, and stream of consciousness writing. None of these skills can improve instantaneously, and none of them will be spurred forward by being able to look something up on a smartphone. But I can already feel myself making progress, chipping away at some big things that I want to have meaning in my life. My brain is adjusting to a slower pace and rewiring itself to tackle different kinds of problems than it has in the past few years. It’s a transition that will take time, but it feels good. Patience, young grasshopper.

Meditate with Max!

Taking the Plunge: Update

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I’ve been trying some new things lately. It all started a few weeks ago when I scaled way back at my job. Results so far: awesome. Who knew 5:30 AM could be an appropriate time to wake up?

I gave notice at my job in late July so I could focus my energies on creative endeavors, and after some conversations decided to stay on part-time two days a week. I started the new work schedule and lifestyle after returning home from hiking the Wonderland Trail in the beginning of September.

While I was hiking, I came to a few things I wanted to try incorporating into my lifestyle, especially yoga and meditation. I had some ideas about the creative aspects as well, but hadn’t fleshed out how that was really going to work. So I started with the morning yoga on my first day back in town. I decided 7 AM was a reasonable time to wake up for it, but I found myself waking up earlier naturally from being on trail time. I also tacked on 15 minutes of meditation after my hour yoga session, figuring my mind would be in a good place for it then.

It has been wonderful. My body and mind feel completely ready for the day after stretching and clearing them both. My hamstrings and hips are getting to a place they’ve never been before, and my head feels correspondingly open and free. I’ve found that I love the morning, and that I want to see more of it. I pushed my wake-up time forward from 6:30 to 6:00, and now to 5:30 AM. The glow of sunrise just starts to come through the trees just when I’m transitioning from yoga to meditation. I’m adding a minute onto my meditation session each week, figuring I’ll be able to sit longer as I become more experienced with it. Even when I have trouble keeping my mind clear (most of the time), I come out of it feeling refreshed and content.

After meditation, I make a quick breakfast and sit down to do some writing. Sometimes this ends up being stream of consciousness, sometimes an outline of a longer piece I’ve been thinking about, and sometimes just a sketch of what’s on my mind. It feels really good to put some words on (virtual) paper, though, and I’m usually ready to move on by about 7:30 AM. I used to struggle to be awake by 7:30. Even if I have trouble finding productivity later on, I feel good about how my morning went and use that as a springboard for positivity and motivation. Of course, my evenings have been truncated a bit, but mostly I’ve lost movie-watching (I don’t have internet at home, so being distracted by Youtube videos and NYTimes articles is a thing of the past). Being in bed with a book by 9:30 PM feels terrific. Maybe I’ve turned into an old man in my quasi-retirement?

The rest of my endeavors have definitely benefited from having an early schedule. At any time of day, it as been easy to get my mind in a place to write, paint, or make music. The two days a week of work is perfect for keeping me disciplined and making my free time feel valuable. Having some rent money doesn’t hurt either. So, win-win.

I’m curious to see if I can keep up the energy and motivation, and what kind of long-term effects I might see from such a different lifestyle. I’ll let you know. Looking forward to it!

Hiking Wonderland

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I spent the last ten days in the woods of Washington state hiking the Wonderland Trail. It is a 93-mile loop around Mt. Rainier, and is considered one of the most spectacular hikes in the world. It was certainly one of the most beautiful places I’ve been, but what was most special about the trip was the mental evolution it allowed. The combination of the natural beauty and the length of the trip allowed me to break through the crust to deep layers of mental clarity.

The trail itself is relatively difficult, including about 22,000 ft of elevation gain (and loss) over the length of the loop. Ten days is a moderate to easy length for the trip. We saw some people doing it in five, and others taking twelve or thirteen. Ultra-marathoners even do the whole thing in twenty-four hours. That would be a different kind of experience, though, and ten days gave us ample time to enjoy the gifts of the mountain.

Rainier from the southwest.

After some last-minute injuries, our group ended up being four strong. I knew all three of my travel companions before the trip, but had never taken on such an adventure with any of them. This added some uncertainty going into the trip, but worked out better than I could have hoped. The group dynamic was wonderful, a real joy. The team was positive and supportive, which made the camping easy and gave a lot of space for play and reflection.

Columnar basalt formations at S. Puyallup River campground.

I started the trip not knowing what to expect. I had never been on a backpacking trip longer than five days before, and I had never done any hiking in the wilderness surrounding Mt. Rainier. I summited the mountain a couple months ago, but that was very much about going up and down quickly, not taking time to circle around. I approached the trip with an open mind; I was very excited in an abstract way, but without concrete expectations.

I love rocks.

We started the trail at Longmire, a populated put-in at the southern edge of the mountain. Preparations had gone smoothly and we had two food caches waiting for us at patrol stations along the way. This meant we would never have to carry more than three days’ food at a time – a luxury for long backpacking trips.

Our schedule gave us two short days right off the bat to get warmed up to the trail, which was a great way to loosen up our legs. These first days felt like typical day hikes. We were still close to society, both physically and mentally. The vistas were gorgeous, but I got antsy being socked in by the forest for long stretches in between. The uphills were tough, so we took our time and our legs adjusted. We did a good amount of lounging about on the ridges and around rivers, knowing that our longer days ahead would not allow for it.

Spray Falls near Mowich trailhead.

Things felt good. We were getting used to being in a group together. We made jokes and started making references to jokes we had already made, slowly building experience and camaraderie. By day three or four we comfortable as a unit and realized that each person could hold their own in the woods.

The team at our Spray Park lunch spot.

Around day five things started to coalesce and we began to get deep into the flow of the trail. Each day’s walk became more enjoyable than the last. Physically, our legs had become strong and loose. Time began to feel more fluid. We would occasionally look at clocks to get a sense of how we were doing, but the day was no longer broken up into fifteen or thirty minute intervals. There was morning, midday, afternoon, evening, night. Each had its own joys and unique feelings associated with it. Every minute was filled with the beauty of the national park.

The landscapes we walked through began to take on a whole different character. The ridges brought unparalleled beauty. The views were almost too vast to comprehend, too picturesque to feel real. They were literally breathtaking. As we approached a pass connecting the northeastern corner of the mountain to the eastern side, we were exposed to an expansive view to the south. Mt. Adams and Mt. Hood stood clear on the horizon, our path crept for miles ahead through snow patches, rocky ridges, and lush valleys of wildflowers. The air was pulled from my lungs in awe.

Forests no longer made me antsy, rather just the opposite. The long sheltered uphills and downhills laid the best foundation for introspection. They gave me a chance to process the unbelievable vistas from the ridges and to empty my mind of built-up clutter. The trees were gorgeous: thick, coarse, full of life. We chatted a lot, talked about movies, solved riddles, but there was plenty of opportunity for silence and deep breaths. The forest trails were soft on the legs from pine needles, and they became a place for active meditation.

Sunrise from Summerland camp.

On day 7 we camped at White River on the north side of the mountain. This was the same spot my previous group had started for the summit a couple months earlier, and it is a popular car camping area. Seeing so many day hikers and cars was overwhelming. We had very much closed ourselves off from the outside world in the past week, only interacting with each other, the mountain, and a few other groups of hikers. It was only by seeing these hints of society that I realized how simple our hike had been. Each day we would walk, eat, and sleep. Occasionally we would play a game of cards or sing songs. We had no access to the news, the media, text messages or traffic. Only with the pressure of these everyday stimuli lifted did I realize that their weight had been enormous. It doesn’t seem like much to fit one little worry in our minds at a time, but the collective burden of all these small things we think about everyday is enormous.

Same sunrise, other direction.

Losing these distractions had been so easy. They vanished without my realizing that they were gone, and in their place my mind expanded into calm and clarity. Stress was nonexistent. All this clutter in my routine back in society was not making my life better. Rather, it was making it harder to live life consciously, hardly to appreciate small joys, and harder to be honest and playful in my interactions.

So much depth.

One of the benefits of traveling with a group that I hadn’t experienced on my solo hikes was this access to playfulness. With so little stress and such simplicity in our day to day lives, playfulness and joy moved closer to to surface of our interactions. We spent lunches laughing to the point of tears, something I rarely approach in my city life. Our conversations could be serious and playful and the same time; sarcasm and irony melted away. Our time was full of joy, and our relationships grew much stronger because of it.

We covered a lot of mileage on the last couple days of our trip, and were treated to some of the best views we’d had. I was glad to have a chance to process some of the thoughts that had come up during our brief encounter with the outside world. I resolved to take some concrete steps to living closer to simplicity at home, such as incorporating yoga and meditation into my daily routine and giving away some of the physical clutter in my apartment. I also realized that creating more access to joy and play will likely be a theme throughout my life, and that a trip like this does wonders for reinvigorating those ideals.

Made it!

By the last day of the trip we were surrounded by day hikers and cars for large periods at a time, but we had come to terms with our reintegration into society. It was terrific to see that so many families and children were enjoying the beauty of the National Park.

My favorite.

We stopped at a diner for some greasy dinner on the way home, and realized that we hadn’t stepped indoors, sat in chairs, showered, or been in a car for ten days straight. No wonder our bodies and minds felt so good.

Taking the Plunge

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Last week I gave notice at my job. It was a good job in an industry I had been excited about. It paid well and had all sorts of perks like subsidized bus pass, health insurance, and unlimited free coffee and Advil. Something wasn’t working for me, though, and after a good deal of confusion and mental processing, I decided to leave. I have a plan.

I have come to similar moments in my life before. I usually feel a need to explore and expand after I finish a big thing – college, grad school, internships. These moments are wonderful. I find new passions, meet new people, stretch my comfort zone, and learn a little bit (or a lot) about life and myself. I tend to wander a bit and eventually find a mold of a life that I want to lead next.

This time is a little bit different, though. For the first time, I am initiating the transition from within. I am not finishing a conveniently timed graduate program, but rather taking a plunge and creating a life shaped around my own values and passions. I want to build the mold myself, and make it out of something that is pliable over time. I’m taking a big step into the unknown, and I’m excited about every part of it.

Here is what I want to do. I want to live a life where I have control and freedom. I want to create things that are valuable to me, and I want to learn how to deliver those things to other people who value them as well. Maybe at some point there will be money exchanged; that will be part of the learning process. I want to explore and share my experiences. I want to live fully and courageously. And I think that I am creative enough and smart enough and disciplined enough to make it work. Or maybe just stupid enough to try.

I am going to start with art and music and writing. I have dabbled in these creative pursuits my whole life, but I have never dedicated myself to them completely. I’m pretty sure that dedication is the only way to actually make them work. I’ve got some money saved up from working at desks and on construction sites, and I have about as much spatial and temporal flexibility as I’m ever likely to have again. So now is the time. I’ve always been curious about delving into these creative endeavors, and I feel like I won’t be satisfied until I’ve tried and know that it works or doesn’t work or isn’t for me. Or that it is a hard way to make a life, but is nonetheless exactly what I want to be doing.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Suggestions welcome.

Summiting Mt. Rainier

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I climbed Mt. Rainier a couple weekends ago. The summit was a new high point for me, 14,411 ft. It ended up being one of the most fantastic – and difficult – adventures I’ve had. What a beautiful mountain.

It started Thursday evening when my rope team met up to do a gear check and talk about plans, goals, and logistics for the trip. I had borrowed a lot of gear, and it turns out I’ve never been mountaineering before. I hike and rock climb, so I have some basics like a harness and helmet, but glacier travel was totally new to me. A friend lent me an ice axe, glacier glasses, extra carabiners, collapsible shovel, an avalanche beacon (despite low avalache risk for the weekend), cramp-ons, double plastic mountaineering boots, and a balaclava (full head and face mask) in case of extreme cold at the top. I ended up using everything except the beacon and balaclava. This trip was wild.

We confirmed that everyone was fully equipped, had a couple big bowls of pasta, and enjoyed a beer over discussion. It was really good to talk about goals for the trip, summer camp style. Mine started out as pretty much just wanting to reach the summit, but I started to realize there was going to also be a huge opportunity for learning and practice over the weekend, and I started getting more excited about that. The phrase “mental elevation” came up, which I thought was cool but wouldn’t really understand until about 60 hours later.

Satisfied with our discussion and bags packed up, we set our alarms for 4:45 am and got in sleeping bags to catch as much sleep in the remaining 5 hours as possible.

And 4:45 came quickly, as it always has in my experience. We secured our packs, loaded up the car, and took off for the mountain, about 2 hours southeast of Seattle. We had reserved campsites ahead of time, but still ended up getting caught in a line at the ranger station for about 45 minutes. You don’t expect a line at 6:30 am, but that is how the mountain works. We filled out our trip plan and set out. We ended up with a campsite at Glacier Basin for Friday night (about 3.5 miles in at 5,000 ft), Camp Schurman for Saturday night (another ~3.5 miles at 9,500 ft), and another night at Schurman on Sunday if necessary. We wouldn’t be doing the rush up and down the mountain that some people do, so there would be time to practice glacier skills and get a bit used to the altitude. Pretty much ideal.

So we strapped on our packs and got moving. I think we were all hauling about 40-50 lbs, but even so, 3.5 miles goes quickly. The trail was nicely maintained and mostly snow free. They had had a serious wash out a few years back, and the trail has been completely rebuilt. All in all, an easy walk. We got to our first campsite around 11 am, leaving plenty of time to practice knots and self arrests. We set up camp and took a breather. The 4:45 am wake was pretty apparent, and our conversational skills were in a serious decline. I looked over a mountaineering book and dozed off on a sunny rock.

Evan, Greta, and Justin scoping out what lies ahead

After a bit of back and forth between half-wakeful studying and half-restful dozing, we all got back together for the hands-on practice. We roped up, did some laps around the snowfield, practicing commands and arrests. Informative and necessary, but definitely clouded by lingering exhaustion. Around 5 or 6 we decided to cook some dinner and get tidied up for sleep. The plan was to hit the trial while the snow/ice was still good (i.e., not slushy yet), so we set our clocks for a 4 am wake up. We were in our bags by 10 pm, and these 6 hours would be the longest rest of the trip.

Snowfield at Glacier Basin

And this time I was a little bit more ready for 4 am when the alarms started chiming. It is a good feeling to be up before the sun. The moon and stars were beautiful. We had a quick breakfast and chai tea and packed up camp. By the time we got moving, the sun was starting to shine on the western edge of the basin. It felt good to be moving in the shade – things would clearly be getting hot when the sun surfaced fully. We worked our way slowly up Inter Glacier on the way to camp Schurman. There weren’t any crevasses on this one, but it did get pretty steep toward the end. Our early start paid off, and we were rewarded with some pretty spectacular views by about 9 am. At the top of the ridge we roped up to move onto Emmons Glacier. We were expecting minor crevasses, but mostly we wanted to get some experience on the rope and with our knots. We snacked and hiked, practiced setting some gear, snacked and hiked some more. We might have taken our time a little too liberally and ended up at camp around 1 pm. We were greeted by David Gottlieb, a reknowned mountaineer who has climbed Rainier enough times to be “too embarassed to keep track” anymore. He gave us some tips on our knots and packing and wished us luck. We were reassured to find out that he would be summitting Sunday morning about the same time as us.

Sunrise on the mountain

1 pm may not seem like a late arrival into camp, but we were already moving pretty slowly. At 10,000 ft everything takes longer than you expect. We set up the tents, got a water-drip going to fill our bottles, played a game of Euchre, and suddenly it was 5 pm – later than we had hoped for dinner. We cooked, ate ravenously, and cleaned. Suddenly 8:30 pm. We decided on a very early start – 12:30 am. So we set our alarms for 11:30 pm and got in our bags for a glorious 2.5 hours of rest.

All geared up, heading for Camp Schurman

I actually didn’t realize that we had planned on so little rest (or I didn’t know what time it was when we went to sleep), and I felt surprisingly good when the clocks went off. Adrenaline and excitement for the summit certainly had something to do with it. It was beautiful out. The snow and ice were nice and solid, the sky was clear and full of stars. The moon was just rising and the whiteness of the mountain made the landscape feel extraterrestrial. Again, altitude and lack of sleep contributed. Either way, really amazing. We roped up and got in line. There were already other teams leaving, and we ended up being about the 7th team to set off. More would be coming up behind us, and it would clearly be a busy day on the mountain.

Arrived at Camp Schurman – Photo courtesy of Evan

Things got steep right off the bat, but we were in a pretty good zone. Circles of light from headlamps were moving up the glacier ahead of us and behind and it was easy to fall into a rhythm. After trekking a good way up the first section we stopped for snacks and realized it was already 2:45 am. There was one tricky section involving a snow bridge that had lost some of its integrity the day before, but it was still cold enough that there were no issues moving across it. We pressed on and it was 4:30. The sun was starting to rise directly opposite the glacier, giving us a wonderful light show. It got bright and things warmed up a bit, with the wind picking up as well to counteract the heat.

Sunrise over Washington

This continued for some time. We had some trouble with the pace and congestion at this point – we kept having to stop behind slow groups, but couldn’t get enough momentum to pass them and stay ahead. So we alternated between getting cold and getting tired, not ideal. Around 7:30 am we stopped for a longer break, about 15 minutes. We were about 700 ft from the summit, but we were getting worn down. The altitude was kicking in and it was hard to stay focused. We chatted about our energy level and motivation, and decided that if we weren’t on the summit by 10 am we would turn around and head back. Pretty generous, but it seemed like a good goal at the time. We had another snack and got our legs moving again.

The slightly longer rest and chat had motivated us, and we ended up being pretty solid the rest of the way to the summit. We slowly realized we had arrived as we saw rock and climbers resting. 8:30 am. There were some wispy clouds around and the wind was whipping across the crater. Not a very hospitable place. We could see north to Baker, but a light haze kept the views from extending more than a couple hundred miles. It felt really good to be at the top, and a huge relief to know that we wouldn’t have to go up any further.

Team Kraken at the top – Photo courtesy of Greta

I am upsidedown – Photo courtesy of Greta

The wind was keeping us from enjoying the rest too much though. We were feeling the cold and decided it would be best to make our stay short. We snapped a few photos, tightened up our gear and set off for the descent. We kept our cramp-ons on in case we came to any icy patches, but things were getting pretty slushy and we probably could have moved a bit faster without them. Still, the descent was a relief and it felt like we were covering ground in no time. We stopped briefly a couple more times to snack and plodded on. We found that the snow bridge we had crossed earlier had melted out a bit more, requiring a short jump to get across. We played is safe and set some protection in the snow in case of a slip and made it across without trouble.

It is a long way down – Photo courtesy of Greta

A short leap over a crevasse

After some final knee-high-slush trudging, we made it back to Camp Schurman where are tents were waiting for us, 1 pm. We shed our packs and crawled into sleeping bags for a quick rest. We could stay another night there if we wanted, but we had heard that there were thunder storms were on the way. We slept about an hour and a half and packed up camp. We loaded up our bags by 5 pm and got on the rope for one last stretch of glacier travel. We were exhausted but happy, and everything went smoothly. We got to Inter Glacier, the steep snowfield from the second day, and were greeted by a nicely groomed glissade track. Strapping our gear on tightly, we sat on our butts and got ready to slide. It felt terrific. The 3-mile snowfield which had taken us 3-4 hours to climb a day early quickly receeded in about 15 minutes of amusement park-style enjoyment. The snow cooled our legs, pretty much bliss. Within the hour we were back to our first camp and on our way out on a 3.5 mile dirt trail. Our heads were clear with the reduced altitude, but foggy from exhaustion. The hike felt more like about 7 miles, but we made it. We got to the car at 9 pm and took our boots off to great relief. Success! We had reached the summit and made it back down in one piece. It felt incredible. And it was really hard. We were totally beat, loopy, hungry for something other than Power Bars.

Glisssssaaaade!

We got in the car hoping to find burgers, but Enumclaw is a sleepy town at 10 pm on a Sunday, so we settled for the 24-hour Safeway. Another meal of snacks, but at this point it didn’t really matter. We got back to Seattle around midnight, ready for some hot showers and warm beds. In bed by 1 am, up at 8 am for work. 7 hours felt luxurious. What a weekend.

Made it back!