Tag Archives: Patrick Rothfuss

All The Things You Thought You Were (But Really Weren’t)…

“It’s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.” –Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“When I discover who I am, I’ll be free.” –Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

I have been on a photography kick for the last year or so.  I have always liked taking pictures and wished I knew more about how to make good ones, but this year I have started to take it more seriously.  I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with it–not yet anyway–but I am definitely fascinated and absolutely eager to learn everything I can about it.  It’s an artform that I really connect with.  I want to think I have it in me, too.  I would love to one day feel like a “real” photographer, able to create jaw-dropping images of the people and places in my world.  Full disclosure: my current fantasy is not just to feel like a professional; it’s to be one.  I daydream about people hiring me to take their portraits or buying my photos for the walls of their homes.  The thought of it gets me all stirred up inside.

Here’s the kicker, though: becoming a “real” photographer requires not only the talent for it and the time to invest in learning the art and science, but also many thousands of dollars for the equipment to try.

Whoa!  Time to pump the breaks!

I am such a cheapskate!  I can’t stand the idea of spending what little “extra” money I have, especially not while I have people depending on me for food and shelter, not to mention fees for sports and the prospect of college in the near future.  How dare I think of blowing cash on myself?  Especially for something as decadent as multi-thousand-dollar art supplies?  It just feels greedy and irresponsible to splurge on something I can’t even be sure I will make happen.

I mean, it feels right to me now.  It’s giving my belly all the tingles and my brain a flood of fantasies.  I can really see myself doing this and loving it.  HOWEVER—ugh, I hate the however—I know I need to check myself.  I am aware that I have a tendency to get excited about stuff, especially my kind of stuff—adventures, art, physical activity, mindfulness, self-improvement, etc.—and allow my mind to run away with fantasies of an entire lifestyle of whatever that thing is.  I realize that I can get sucked into an Inspiration Du Jour.  I own that.  So when I really get into something new that feels oh-so-exciting and potentially fulfilling, I have to remind myself I have been here before.  A few times.

When I was in my twenties, I read so many books.  I loved books!  But not only did I love them, I thought I should own all of them.  I fancied the idea of owning all of the classics, leather-bound.  I would line my walls with bookshelves and fill them all from floor to ceiling.  And of course I would read them all.  And not just the classics but every book in the genres I was into at the time.  Every sacred religious text, every book of modern spirituality.  Every great work of philosophy and poetry.  Biographies, too, of course, and works of history.   I liked dictionaries and thesauruses, too, as well as books of quotations and idioms.  I wanted them all.

And now?  I am SO GLAD I did not buy them or commit to reading them all!  I would be thoroughly disappointed in myself.  The book collector and nonstop reader idea matches up beautifully with someone who has neither children nor other major hobbies or obligations (like a job!).  I still think it is a romantic idea, and it may be perfect for someone with a lot of extra time, space, and money.  I don’t have any of those things, so it wouldn’t be a good fit.  I never stopped loving books, though.  Now I mostly just get mine from my library’s app, though, and read for a few minutes in bed before I fall asleep.  I thought I was a book collector and devourer.  I was wrong.

That is a lifestyle/hobby example, which is significant. But it doesn’t feel like as big a miss as those involving a career.  I don’t know which category the photography thing will end up falling into, but if it is the career misfire, I’ve already been down that road, too.

About a decade ago, when I was ready to transition out of coaching tennis professionally, I became quite excited about the idea of becoming a life coach.  I had thought seriously about becoming a psychologist when I was in college (and still believe that would have been a solid choice for me), but ultimately I went a different direction.  But what I liked—and still like—about the concept of life coaching over therapy is dealing with “well” folks who aren’t looking to have their problems solved but just need someone to help make the path to their goals more clear and manageable.  They want to go from good to great.  That gets me charged up.  Like therapy, though, life coaching is one-on-one and highly focused on going deep with a person, which suits my personality beautifully.

I enrolled in course work and was fully engaged, doing lots of practice coaching sessions with my classmates and other volunteers.  I found I had a real knack for it and enjoyed being a part of someone else’s progress toward their goals, similar to the reason I loved coaching tennis.  I believed I was making the world a better place, too, which is important to me.  It felt like a perfect fit.  I was into it!  I believed this was going to be a smooth transition into my next career that I would ride all the way to retirement.

NOPE.

It turned out I was missing one important piece of the professional life coach’s toolkit: salesmanship.  Life coaching isn’t covered by insurance, and doctors aren’t sending patients to coaches like they are to physical therapists or other specialists.  There is no pipeline of clients banging down your door once you put your new website online.  These folks are independent contractors, so they have to attract each client to them, convincing them of the value of coaching.  You have to be willing to put yourself out there, strike up conversations with strangers about your skills, have an elevator pitch, and all of that kind of stuff.  And because lots of regular people don’t really know what a life coach even is or what they do, it puts extra emphasis on the salesmanship element.  I quickly realized that no matter how well I thought I could do the coaching, if I wasn’t willing and able to do the selling, I was not going to be a life coach.

STRIKEOUT.

Just telling that story bums me out, because it really felt like the right thing for me.  And not doing it obviously shaped the course of my life in a major way.  I wish I had been right.

I’ve been wrong about less consequential things, though, too.  When I was in my early twenties, I developed a great love for the mountains and camping in the great outdoors.  I was so happy to be out on a hike in the wilderness or sitting by a campfire looking up at the magnificence of the night sky before zipping myself into my sleeping bag in the tent, listening to the sound of the forest as I drifted off with a grateful smile on my face.  I was an outdoorsman!  And I was right about that—hooray!

But then I met my less outdoorsy wife and got busy with little kids in suburbia.  When I believed they were finally ready, I planned an epic family adventure during which we would camp in the spartan national park campgrounds at Yellowstone and Glacier.  We would do it like proper outdoorspeople: prepare our own food outside and sleep in the tent.  I bought all the gear and supplies, as though this was our new lifestyle.  And we all did it!  It was great, our best trip yet.  So of course, I was sure we had just become a camping family.  My wife and kids would be begging for trips to the national parks, and we would know the tent sites and hiking trails all over this beautiful country.  I was thrilled! I would be communing with Mother Nature again and I could pass it all down to my kids.  A legacy of campers!

NEGATIVE.

We haven’t camped as a whole family since, and the gear is collecting dust in the attic.  No one is begging me for more nights in the tent or tough mountain hikes.  I still hold out hope that they will come on another big adventure with me to the Tetons or Sierras, but I have a feeling we will need to rent a cabin or hotel room and eat at restaurants rather than by the fire.  I was wrong again!

I’ve always been fascinated by vision boards.  You know, getting a piece of posterboard and then searching through magazines or the Internet to cut out pictures or words that speak to you about who you want to become.  The resulting collage strikes me as so inspirational and a good reminder of what you are striving for.  I love looking at them.  I’ve never made a vision board.  I bet if I had at any point along my journey, many of the pictures or words I pasted on my board would have been proven flat wrong by the way I have lived my life.  That seems weird to me.  I tend to think most people’s paths are much steadier than mine, much less erratic.

This is not to say I have never been right about who I am and what I ought to do, even if I no longer do that specific thing directly anymore.  I have always been a coach, even if I no longer do it as a full-time job.  Any time I drive by a tennis court at a local park, I still feel the pull to give someone a stroke tip or some encouragement.  Even though I no longer act on stage, I still feel that artform inside of me and would surely be delighted to find some role in a community theatre production when I have the time.  Even though I write these letters to you much less often than I used to or than I would prefer, I still know deep down in my soul that I am a writer and always will be.

Maybe my disconnect is about distinguishing between what I love to do, what I do well, and what I can reasonably sustain as a career.  I have shown a propensity for believing I ought to make a career out of things I love to do, especially if they involve being some sort of artist.  I guess that’s where I am right now with this new fascination with photography.  I know I enjoy it and that it scratches my creative itch.  I know I am eager to learn everything I can about it.  I know it plays into my ideals of setting my own schedule, being my own boss, working alone (in some cases), getting to be outside for parts of the day, and producing something people will enjoy or be inspired by.  All of those things are great.   But can I???  Will I be able to learn enough of the technical skills to become competent?  Am I gifted enough in the artistry of it to make my images worth paying for?  And, perhaps most crucial given my track record with entrepreneurism and salesmanship, do I have the marketing and business savvy to actually create a functioning business out of it?  If the answer to any of these is NO, well, then I am wrong again about the thing I imagined myself to be.

But is being wrong about this actually so wrong?  I mean, if I never become the professional photographer of my recent fantasies, I will still be a guy who loves taking photos.  There are thousands of people who do that as their hobby and are deeply fulfilled by it.  They plan trips around it.  They save their pennies to get new equipment, which is endlessly exhilarating.  They take family photos as favors to their friends.  That is all positive stuff.  It’s a different lane than what I have envisioned, but still beautiful.

Also, and only in this moment am I truly seeing this as a golden truth, just getting excited about being something new and different is its own kind of magical gift.  It’s like falling in love.  There’s that giddiness and thrill of this brilliant novelty that you can’t wait to do everything with.  You generate all sorts of fantasies in your mind about how wonderful it will all be.  The dopamine rush of it all is the best thing in the world.  It’s truly intoxicating.  Does it work out in the end?  Not usually.  Does the disappointment of that hurt so much that you swear you will never do it again?  Maybe.  But is that sheer joy and the anticipation of coming magic worth feeling over and over again?  Absolutely!

So, I guess being wrong about who you thought you would be or what you thought you would be doing isn’t the worst thing.  Sure, it can be disappointing.  And it can be hard to find your way back into balance after striking out on a lifestyle you thought was meant for you.  But think of all that curiosity you get to quell by giving it a shot.  Think of all the different things you can become pretty knowledgeable about.  Think about all the fascinating people you meet by diving into a new space.  Think of the courage you gain by trying something new.  Think of all the things you learn about yourself in that trying, and even in the subsequent “failing” or course-correction.  And definitely think about the privilege of getting to the end of your life with no regrets, no What-Ifs.  That is a priceless gift you can only give to yourself.

I don’t know how many more of these “I think I’m going to be a…” I will cycle through before I die.  Probably several.  I’m guessing most people go through a handful of them in their young adulthood and then fewer and fewer as they age, but I seem to keep churning them out.  Perhaps it means I am just not satisfied yet, that I haven’t found the thing I am supposed to be doing.  Maybe it means that I am incapable of sitting still for long, incapable of being satisfied by any one thing.  I don’t know.  I just get the feeling that I am meant to keep learning and growing and discovering everything I can about this world and everything it has to offer.  One of the hazards of this inclination is that I fall in love quite frequently, with things like psychology, self-discovery, travel, music, journaling, acting, spirituality, tennis, philosophy, writing, the outdoors, movies, books, coaching, and now photography.  And even if I can’t claim to be an afficionado in more than a few of those pursuits, each one has taken its turn filling my life with such magic and inspiration.  Even if they didn’t turn out to be “Who I Am” for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t remove any of them from my journey.  And I can hardly wait to see what magnificent pursuit will captivate me next, even if I’m pretty sure it will ultimately slide onto the back burner.  I’ve been wrong about myself before.  It won’t stop me from diving in again.

How about you?  What are all the things you thought you were but simply weren’t?  Open up your journal and tell your life stories.  What things have gotten your fantasies popping with visions of your future?  What kind of career field have you been pretty sure you were headed into?  Did it start with the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” question from childhood?  What did you believe your future looked like way back then?  What was your job going to be?  What else would you be involved in?  Did you picture your family situation?  How long did you hold onto your childhood fantasies before adapting to the natural changes that come with maturity and adulthood?  How many different career paths have you gotten excited about over the years?  Of those, how many remained only in your imagination, and how many did you actually put some time and effort into exploring?  If you look at your employment history, would you say you have had multiple careers or just one career (possibly with multiple different jobs)?  Are you currently in the field that you once daydreamed about?  How close are you to that?  Has it met your expectations?  If you are not doing what you dreamt of, why not?  Are you still hoping to go for it one day?  Is the thing you wish you were doing a reasonable option or something that would be highly unlikely for someone of your talents and means?  Can you still do something like it as a hobby?  Would that still be fulfilling to you?  What other hobbies or passion projects have you imagined that you would take on?  Have you fantasized about getting into the arts in some way, like becoming a musician or a painter?  Have you dreamt of building things?  Do you see yourself as a someone who volunteers their time for worthy causes?  Have you wanted to be a mentor to someone?  Do you have aspirations to run races or do a triathlon?  Do you imagine your body looking a different way?  Is there a lifestyle change you think would be perfect for you, like traveling or outdoor adventure or a religious commitment?  How many significant changes have you undergone along your journey regarding who you think you are or what you do with your time?  Did you change more often when you were younger, or has your rate of change been fairly consistent over time?  Do you think your lifestyle is more or less stable than the other people in your life?  What do you attribute that to?  If you aren’t fully satisfied with your current lot, do you have any ideas brewing in your mind about what else you might do for fulfillment?  Which ones excite you the most?  How reasonable are the options?  Which are you most likely to take a chance on?  Of all the different ways you have lived to this point, which suited you the most?  What about the least?  Have you been pretty close most of the time?  Do you see each new effort to fulfill a fantasy as a gift—like falling in love is a gift–even if it doesn’t stand the test of time?  Leave me a reply and let me know: Of all the things you once thought you were, how many have you been wrong about?

Keep diving,

William

P.S. If this letter resonated with you today, please share it with your community.  Let’s talk about this stuff!

P.P.S.  If this way of introspection appeals to you, I encourage you to buy my book, Journal of YOU: Uncovering The Beauty That Is Your Truth, at your favorite online booksellers.

Spoiled, Selfish, & Stupid: Why We Are Not To Be Trusted

“Living as I do with human beings, the more that I observe them, the more I am forced to conclude that they are selfish.” –Natsume Söseki, I Am A Cat

“Pride and folly, they go together like two tightly grasping hands.” –Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear

Hello friend,

Open the floodgates! The Americans have left their homes and their senses!

We gave it a good run. We–well, most of us–did the decent thing for a solid month or so. We sacrificed. We listened to scientists who told us that the best way we could help was to stay home and keep our distance from one another. We actually considered how our behavior affects others. We showed a conscience. We were selfless, altruistic. It was like a weird, totally surreal, alternate universe. But we made it cool! Social distancing and masks became the darlings of social media, inspiring all sorts of clever memes, GIFs, and videos. It was this quaint little throwback thing we were doing together–like having a 1980s Day at school or pretending we were re-enacting “Little House On The Prairie”–all with a collective ‘wink-wink’ knowing we were way too cool to actually live like this. We were playing along until we got the first signal that we could call off the charade.

Apparently, the signal was not a vaccine to prevent anyone else from getting Covid-19. It was not a medicine to help alleviate the symptoms. It was not the steady decline of new cases over a 14-day period, as the experts had told us from the start would be best indicator. The signal wasn’t even any sort of decline. As it turned out, all it took for Americans to assume permission to return to regular social living was the mere mention by folks on TV of the possibility of a slow, measured re-opening of the economy.

And with that, social distancing (and sense) is a thing of the past.

Exhibit A: Last weekend, my wife, kids, and I took a bike ride around our neighborhood. The first park we passed had a full parking lot, people playing volleyball and other sports, grilling, playing on the playground, and hanging at the beach. I could feel my sensible wife fuming behind me as we passed from the road. She had already made clear before we left that we would not be entering that park, as the nice day would draw too many people. But this was another level. This was Summer-day-level crowding. I sped up my pedaling to get past it, and we soon arrived at the next park, where we would be circling the more remote path that surrounds the hub of the park. Of course, we immediately spotted in that center a large gathering of what appeared to be friends, some playing full 6-on-6 volleyball and many others gathered around the court lounging and socializing in very close proximity. Again, it looked like an ordinary-times Sunday afternoon at the park.

Keep in mind that at that point, where I live in Minnesota, there had been no new guidelines for removal or even decrease in social distancing or gathering size suggested by the governor or other top scientists in the state, just talk about some upcoming small measures to get a few more businesses operating.

My wife, who may be accused of being cautious and germaphobic–qualities I have finally come to appreciate with a killer virus in town–but also has a track record of wisdom and sense, was livid. She could not wrap her head around what these people were thinking–or, perhaps more accurately, not thinking–to be in each other’s space and touching the same things willingly. I admit, I was outraged at their behavior as well, but I was less shocked. I had felt it increasing the entire week leading up to that day. And immediately prior to our bike ride, I had witnessed Exhibit B.

I was in my kitchen and happened to look out my window to see some neighbor kids and their friends from a few blocks away right up on the front patio of a different neighbor, where that neighbor (a middle-aged man) was sitting with his girlfriend. (You may recall that I mentioned in my last letter my anger with my neighbors that have kept up frequent play dates and social gatherings throughout the pandemic. Well, these were the kids and friends.) I was immediately shocked and angered at their proximity to one another, of course, but its lack of appropriateness also captivated me. I kept watching. The kids proceeded to circle this guy’s house over and over again, stopping by the man and woman as they went. Then, when they seemed to tire, he gave them a drink from his cup, which they proceeded to pass around to everyone in the group.

As someone who has taken the scientists very seriously regarding the necessity of social distancing and mask-wearing during this global pandemic, my jaw was practically on the floor. Why worry about the spit droplets traveling randomly through the air and only maybe reaching someone else when you can just pass those little guys directly via a cup? Brilliant! These same folks were part of a several-family, no-distancing yard party just a couple days earlier that I also got to witness in horror from my window. All that is to say that by the time we got to that park last Sunday, my sense of disgust was still strong but my ability to be shocked by foolishness had been dulled dramatically. Mostly, my neck was getting tired from shaking my head so often.

Though I have no satisfactory justification for anyone willfully breaking the simple social distancing guidelines that have been in the public forum for several weeks now, I have thought a lot about the mindset behind it. As always, I spend a lot of time considering how we humans think and the impulses behind our actions. It starts with myself, of course, in my daily journal entries that have been helping me understand my shenanigans for decades. But I am equally fascinated by others, both individually and collectively. I am a fan of all studies sociological and psychological. And obviously, immersed as I am in American culture, I am particularly fascinated by attitudes and behaviors that seem uniquely American.

This recent abandonment of conscience and the corresponding moral free-for-all regarding social distancing and our obligation to care about the health of people we don’t know seems to fit the bill as something thoroughly American.

For the sake of today’s discussion, I am separating the people gathering at my neighbor’s house and in the park to celebrate and play socially from the maskless hordes storming state capitols and shouting in people’s exposed faces in protest. Although there is some relation between the two groups, I think the arguments get much more complex when you bring in the economic aspects of stay-at-home orders, which I like to think are motivating the protesters. People simply craving human contact and unfettered hanging out occupy a different spot on the spectrum. It is these people who are just over social distancing and are moving on despite the potential consequences that are the ones I am pondering today.

When I think of my wife’s shrill, panicked, “WHAT IS HAPPENING????” when she first witnessed up-close these blatant acts of disregard for established guidelines for protection against a deadly virus, the first thing that came to my mind to sum up my theory was “spoiled Americans.”

Sacrifice is not something we are accustomed to at this point in our history. For those of us in the middle class and higher, anyway, we haven’t spent much thought on how our lives affect others or ever had to “take one for the team” and make do with less so others could live. The term “first-world problems” has caught on in the common vernacular precisely because for many of us, we simply aren’t very inconvenienced by the world. But now this coronavirus has kept us away from the blowouts, hangouts, and make-outs that we have come to see as our birthright.

So sure, we played along at first (at least most of us). We stayed at home. We stayed apart. We wore our masks and acted like this virus was real. We posted on social media about the blessings and bummers of staying at home, the heroes on the frontline, and the plethora of new memes on this fresh topic. It was a quaint little game we were playing together. For fun, sort of. Something to tell the grandkids about one day, anyway.

But then it became dull. It was no longer enough that we all had computers, phones, FaceTime, ZOOM, Google Hangouts, Facebook, Twitter, InstaGram, TikTok, and a million other ways to connect with friends and family in real time. The world had denied us of one thing–proximity–and we aren’t people who suffer denial well. So, over the past couple of weeks, the bat signal somehow went out. Every time I took a walk or rode my bike around the neighborhood, I saw more and more gatherings with less and less space between the gatherers. Before I knew it, neighbors were passing cups around to share. Americans had revealed themselves. Spoiled, self-absorbed, foolish.

Now I know, of course, that it isn’t everyone. Obviously, I am writing this letter as someone who has not changed his behavior recently, and I have seen other shows of dismay and disgust in both conventional and social media (including a column in the Tampa Bay Times called, appropriately, “I Will Not Die of Stupid”). So plainly, I am not saying all Americans are selfish brats, but I definitely believe that streak runs through our culture. And, as so many people are showing us in the last couple of weeks, there is a critical mass of people in this country who are proving that this aspect of our collective personality cannot be held at bay no matter how dire the outcome. We are that petulant, arrogant toddler whose behavior embarrasses the parent when it comes out in public, so ashamed that they let the child get this obnoxious in its egotism.

Fortunately, I think (I hope) that we are also the parent, or even the onlookers who are appalled at the toddler spouting demands that his every whim be met immediately. I am confident that I am not alone in my astonishment and outrage at the foolishness of my neighbors. I know there are others who feel both hurt and confused by the collective lapse in morality by people who they have respected. I am aware of others speaking up, if only to people who share their dismay.

My question is, what is the score? How many people are on each side? Are there enough people with me to make a positive difference, or am I shouting into a vacuum? As I said, I have seen other people voice their anger and disgust over this flouting of science and disregard for the health of others, but every time I walk past the park or look out my window and see a big gathering of people ignoring the rules, all of those articles and social media posts seem like a whisper no longer heard over the shouting. I want to think that the bigger mass of people still has a conscience and integrity, but those volleyball players and cup-sharers make it hard for me to see things clearly.

We have a very long way to go with this virus, and at this rate, I know I am in for a lot of future outrage. However, I really, really want to think the best of people. I want to believe that they will look to their better angels and find the mental strength and the moral courage to do the right thing, no matter how dull and inconvenient it is. I just hope that when they are at their weakest moment, when they are lonely and cranky and bored, that they can look to the people around them and find positive role models, people who care about all of the people in their community and about getting through this pandemic as quickly and safely as possible. Together, but separately. I will be over here in my yard with just my wife and kids if anyone is looking.

How about you? Are you more likely to be hanging out with friends these days or watching the crowds in horror from a safe distance? Open up your journal and your conscience and lay bare your inclinations and your justifications? How annoyed and inconvenienced do you feel by all of the coronavirus-related restrictions? Were you annoyed and pent-up all along, or did you play along willingly at first but have gradually slid your standards of acceptability? If all of the restrictions and dangers magically went away today, what would you do to feel “normal” again? How closely have your actions approximated that lately? Do you do “meet-ups” with friends (e.g. for coffee), respecting social distance or not? If you have kids, do you allow them to play with other children who don’t live with you? Do you play sports with people from outside your household? Take walks with them? Have you had gatherings of extended family or friends? If you answered “YES” to any or all of those, how do you justify your behavior to yourself? Is it easy to do? Can you come up with sound, intelligent arguments to explain yourself? Can you reasonably claim the moral high ground? Does anyone call you on your questionable actions? Do you get defensive, or do you feel fully justified and unapologetic? On a scale of 1 to 10 and being as honest as possible, how much do you care how your behaviors affect other people? Do you feel like you deserve to do whatever you want? Does your conscience bother you at all when you skirt the guidelines of safety? How likely do you believe you are to become infected by the coronavirus? Does that percentage affect your behavior one way or the other? If you do get it, would you say it was worth it to act in whatever ways you are currently acting around distancing and mask-wearing? Would an impartial scientist say that the way you are behaving is on the risky side of the spectrum or the safe side of the spectrum? Would a wise person say you are being wise or foolish? Would I say you are acting like responsible, altruistic human of integrity or a spoiled fool who is in moral decay? Would you care what any of us had to say? Are there such things as character qualities that can be ascribed to nations or social groups? Do enough Americans act in spoiled, self-centered ways that we can declare those to be characteristically American? Thought experiment: if you were going into a theoretical battle and were choosing your teammates, would you want to get in the foxhole with “America”? Would you trust her? For individual teammates, would you more likely choose one of the people at the park playing basketball and having drinks with their friends these days or someone who is strictly conforming to social distancing guidelines? Would you choose you? Leave me a reply and let me know: What type of citizen are you behaving like these days?

Be big,

William

P.S. If this letter resonated with you, please share it with your community. Let’s raise our consciousness together!

P.P.S. If you are stirred by this kind of introspection, consider buying my book Journal of YOU: Uncovering The Beauty That Is Your Truth at your favorite online retailers. Namaste.