For years, I’d been feeling stuck and existentially at odds with the corporate work and culture I was immersed in. When my manager let me know in June 2019 that he intended to get rid of my position, I began to allow myself to dream beyond this life that I’d fallen into without great intention. Six months later, one year ago today, I left my corporate job of nearly 8 years without a clear idea for my next endeavor.
Well, that’s not exactly true. It was fairly clear to me that I would be taking time to connect with myself and my purpose, and also to connect with people who may provide input into that process. What wasn’t clear was how I would plug into the existing economy or, more importantly, what my contribution to the world might be.
In the last year, I’ve learned oh so much. And somehow, despite being confined to my apartment for half that time, I’ve also experienced oh so much. I’m going to attempt to reflect on it in this blog post.
The Before Times
After I left my job, what I most held in my mind was the inhumane nature of the corporate environment. I developed a vague sense of wanting to change that corporate environment and somehow make it more humane and conducive to our human existence. As the system currently exists, you have someone with an idea of what they want to contribute to the economy: a widget, say. That person decides they need help making those widgets, and so they find a bunch of people who are willing to accept green pieces of paper in exchange for helping the boss actualize his vision. That’s it. “Do what I want, I give you money.” That simplified system is fine in a world where workers want money, above all else. But we spend more than a third of our waking hours at our “jobs,” and it’s a disgrace that most people are spending that time contributing to someone else’s passion. Money simply isn’t enough.
“Organizations are people-growing machines.”
What I envisioned instead was inspired by something my (now) friend Bob Gower told a group of my clients many years before: “Organizations are people-growing machines.” This pithy statement flipped the model upside down for me. I’d always thought of the primary purpose of an organization (e.g., a business) to be about growing a product or service. But what if the purpose of an organization were instead to promote the well-being and self-actualization of the people within the organization? This idea blew so many things open for me, and it posed the beginnings of my thinking of a more human-centric society and economy. A model that cares about the holistic well-being of all the humans in it, rather than simply well-being as measured (poorly) by financial gain. Using money as a measure of well-being is sloppy at best, and we can do better. Of course, US society is strongly based on the presumption of money as an accurate measure for well-being, so rooting it out is an extremely challenging task.
In any case, one of the first things I did after I left my job was to reach out to Bob, who at the time had no idea who I was, as he’d only been a one-time guest speaker to our clients several years before. We had a really stimulating conversation, and I’m pleased that we’ve been able to continue to connect every few moths. This conversation was the first of several “informational interviews,” or better put, chats with smart people, that I worked my way through over the next couples months. I did so many of these, I even pretended to be an authority on them in a short piece I wrote. Through this route, I linked up with Bear Icebox Communications for some project work and with the Knowledge Graph Conference, for whom I organized an investor event.
Both of these engagements helped me refine what types of work called to me and which did not. I realized that I was going to have a very hard time doing any work that was not aligned with my values. Of course, I always kept my commitments, and I did the work well, but I wasn’t always happy about it. My engagement with Bear Icebox did yield me a trusted friendship, and in recent months this has given me a glimpse of what it may look like for me to provide some sort of holistic coaching (based in anti-capitalism and anti-racism), which is a potential path that I can’t help but keep coming back to in my thinking. More on this another time.
I also pursued a personal interest of mine: ceramics. I signed up for a class at a local studio, and I proceeded to spend 10 to 15 hours a week in the studio, honing my craft. I didn’t know if this would yield anything that I could share with the world, but it was a craft that brought me great joy.
In the before times, I also continued my engagement with the Burning Man community, and I was a co-lead of my camp at Love Burn, the regional Burning Man event in Miami. The re-injection of Burning Man values at this time was an important reminder for me about the man-made nature of our modern system and the fact that we do have choices within it and outside it. I craved the ability to spread that message.
I had given myself until March to decide whether I would bite the bullet and start applying for a “job,” or whether I would continue down my path of uncertainty. I had started an endeavor to create a nail polish line geared toward men, in the interest of challenging gender norms. I wasn’t sure where that would lead. And I did have some minor fantasy of my ceramics taking a more serious trajectory. But whatever the path, the choice was clear that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate another “job”; at least not quite yet.
The Pandemic
We all know this story. For the first several weeks of the pandemic, I was ill at ease. Days dragged on, and weeks flew by. I read, wrote, cooked, I tried to stay in touch. I grew a mustache. In the early days, I wrote a fairly well-received essay (2,000 views!) on how to grapple with this pandemic.
The days went by, and I saw the illusory walls of our toxic society fading away, as we all were forced to reckon with our mindless daily habits, our blithe consumerism, our hardened individualism, our denial of our own mortality, and our willful blindness to the fact that all the “rules” and structures in our world and society are simply made up by humans who had the boldness to declare themselves an authority. This last bit was laid totally bare when all of the systems and structures that we presume to be authorities (governments, corporations, etc.) had no idea what to do when faced with a global pandemic. Everyone just started making it up. I saw an opportunity for wholesale culture change, not just corporate culture as I’d fancied before.
I lost sleep over the urgent opportunity to drive a massive awakening among the US population. There were people calling for policy changes, but top-down policy doesn’t change the minds of 70 million Americans who voted for Donald Trump. That comes from a change in values and culture. I saw the opportunity, but I felt so powerless. I also felt alone in my hopes and vision. I saw (through social media) friends lamenting the boredom of being locked inside, extolling the virtues of “Tiger King,” and hoping for a speedy return to “normal.” Meanwhile, I quietly hoped that “normal” might never return, and the prior world might be revealed for the inhumane illusion that it truly was. It was ever so lonesome.
Then mutual aid entered my life.
Mutual Aid
In March, a friend shared a Facebook page of a mutual aid group in a nearby neighborhood, and I knew instantly that this was my outlet. That day, I created a Facebook group for Sunnyside & Woodside Mutual Aid, and I discovered a group of neighbors had had the same idea. We linked up. Over the next 4 months, I focused on the establishment and growth of this project. I could write several pages on the whirlwind that was mutual aid, but I’ll focus on some of what I learned.
- I learned how many incredible, tireless, brilliant, and passionate people (most of them women) there are around us everywhere doing important work fighting for a better world for everyone. The early days were so inspiring, because everyone wanted to get involved and help out their neighbors.
- I learned about myself, and particularly about a lot of what I need to unlearn. Many of these habits I had picked up in the corporate environment, and I realized I was exhibiting so many habits that were antithetical to my values.
- I learned about radical organizing principles, such as consensus decision-making, self organization, proactive inclusivity, etc. I learned how much I have yet to learn.
- I learned even more about the reality of the world we live in, and the everyday injustice and indignity that so many have to suffer.
- I learned about radical and progressive politics, anarcho-communism, direct action, and I learned that it’s powerful to dream of a better world, as impossible as it may seem.
- I learned about anti-racism, and the role of racism in our history and modern day
- I learned more about the historical and ongoing devastating treatment of indigenous peoples in the US and beyond
- I learned that not everyone is going to like me or think I’m as delightful as I hope to be. Some of it has to do with choices I make; some of it has to do with things out of my control.
- I learned more about what it feels like to act in my power (or “from the best parts of myself”, or “from my genius,” to use various ways to frame the idea), and situations and contexts where I end up acting otherwise.
- I saw cracks in radical organizing spaces that I fear will doom these efforts when put up against the level of organization and power of entrenched entities in our world.
- I came face to face with the hopelessness in the struggle for justice and a better world. I really want to believe that the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice; but lately I’ve been thinking that the best we can do is to struggle for the moral arc to simply not bend so far toward injustice.
- I learned that some people, perhaps most people, are fundamentally and intractably opposed to change and constitutionally opposed to listening with their hearts.
Every item in that incomplete list of lessons could be expanded upon vastly (and perhaps it will be when I write my magnum opus of reality according to Michael). But time to move on.
Moving On
After some time with mutual aid, I sensed that my presence in the project was perhaps doing more harm than good. I am proud of what I helped build in the first few months and the people that were empowered through that. Heck, someone was even generous enough to invite me to be part of a panel on mutual aid for a Burning Man audience. But mutual aid is a long-term strategy for local organizing and material support, and I realize now that some of my approaches were not appropriately aligned with that objective. There were many people in the group that clearly were doing exceptional things without me.
In August, I decided to get out of the city and to go back-country camping alone in the Adirondacks. I had recently finished reading “Walden” and craved a connection with nature. I connected deeply with nature and with my solitude, and I gave myself the space to imagine life beyond mutual aid and beyond New York. In the coming weeks, I decided that I would not seek to remain in my apartment for another year, and that I would hit the road in pursuit of my next endeavor.
I grieved. I grieved the loss of my mutual aid project that I had poured my heart into. I grieved the loss of a stable home that had provided me a safe foundation for my life the previous three years. I grieved the loss of New York City as my home (although this had been a drawn-out process over the previous several months, as the city I had known for so long took on a different form in a global pandemic). I grieved the loss of whatever semblance of stability and certainty I had created for myself.
Hitting the Road
As of November 1, 2020, I no longer live in NYC. I built this website and refined the Wandering Mystic persona, which I had conceived of roughly a year before (a post on the name is still in the works!). I purchased and modified a minivan (a post on the details is also in the works), and I planned out the early steps of my wander. I gave some thought to my mission, and I wrote it down to keep myself somewhat accountable. Since then, I have visited three states, lived off-grid, and taken the GRE; my prior posts can fill in many of those blanks. This chapter is in its infancy.
Consistency
Throughout it all, I have started and maintained a daily morning routine that has become very dear to me. Many days it’s my favorite part of the day:
- Meditate
- Read
- Journal
Every day since March, this has been my routine (with some flexibility on timing if I’m in a rush in the morning). Most days also include some light exercise and a beautiful ritual of brewing coffee. My routine has provided me consistency when the circumstances provided none. It’s allowed me to connect with myself when the world allowed very little connection with anything. Journaling has helped me to accelerate and refine the ways I think about the world, society, existence, and myself. Reading has inspired in me visions for the future, understandings of the present, and lucidity on the past. And my meditation has reminded me of my inherent ability to ground within myself and the sublime beauty of simply “being.” I am very proud of this consistent thread that has tied the last year together. It gives me a feeling of safety and confidence that whatever instability and strife I may encounter, I have at least this modicum of power over myself and my being.
It’s in vogue to dump on 2020 as a terrible year full of terrible things. And it unquestionably was. But 2020 has also revealed many opportunities for a better world. It has thrown a wrench into all of our lives. Don’t forget that a wrench is a tool as much as it’s a way to gunk up some machinery.
I never could have predicted a year ago that I would be writing this blog post from my sister’s home in North Carolina, having driven here in a minivan with a mustache on the front. And I think that probably means I’m doing something right, at least at this stage in my life. I spent 8 years having a pretty good idea of what my life would look like in a year, while secretly hoping that I’d be wrong.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve felt stuck, hopeless, unmoored, and doubtful in the past year. The ever-present “What the hell am I doing with my life?” Heck, I feel that right at this very moment. And yet looking back, what a year it’s been! I couldn’t tell you where exactly (or even remotely) I’m headed, but I can say for certain that I’m headed somewhere. And sometimes all you need is to just keep moving. Because perhaps if you just keep moving, you can usually look back and feel pretty good about the moves that you’ve made.
