Category Archives: People

GSE

The best thing about old friendships- they just keep getting better. Dustin came thru Missoula in July while driving a new (to him) truck home to Portland. We haven’t gotten to spend much time together the past few years and we both felt overdue for some shenanigans. I’ve struggled with a neck injury this year, and Dustin is more open-minded than a simple climbing trip would accommodate. We picked a week in October, settled on a sport we’ve never done, and drove to a place we’ve spent very little time. It was awesome.

I drove thru Grand Staircase-Escalante (GSE) National Monument in 2011 and barely stopped for gas. I was 26. I was focused on climbing. That was dumb. We explored a handful of classic slot canyons and motored around some incredible proposed wilderness area.

Not surprisingly, a week of perfect weather, during a year in which road trips and public land are the only recreation activities didn’t result in a lot of solitude, but we managed to find a little bit anyways. We slept under the stars, hiked enough to make ourselves smell terrible, and cooked on the tailgate. Necessary.

After the “classics” of Escalante, we were eager to find a little more variety and an excuse to drive back up Hwy 12 from Escalante to Boulder. Capitol Reef National Park is apparently the least visited of the Utah National Parks. While the scenic drive was slammed with people, the perfect 5.9 hand crack just off the road was not and I got my climbing fix.

Game for one more healthy exploration, we finished the trip on Saturday with a car-to-car trip down the Burro Wash on the east side of the park. There were a handful of cars at the pullout, but as usual, once we left the “standard” trail, to head for the top of the canyon, we were alone.

One major difference: the “slot” canyons of the Escalante were deep and mysterious, but didn’t allow for much view outside the canyon. In the more open canyons of Capitol Reef the views were more expansive and the various side canyons gave a single wash the feeling of an entire mountain range in a single afternoon. 10 out of 10.

Two old friends, a sweet truck, and some of the worlds most beautiful desert. The conversations were better than music or podcasts and didn’t stop for 6 days. We walked and drove and marveled at the severe, abundant beauty of the desert.

It was a good trip.

pc: dustin

Mountain Home

We are privileged to live in a mountain place. Miles of off leash terrain for ourselves and the dog, alpen glow on peaks we can see from our deck, and trailheads to deep wilderness just outside town. October 12th was my 36th birthday, and I can’t help but look at my life and feel profoundly grateful.

Unfortunately like most other places in America, there are plenty of folks living in this same idyllic setting that have more important responsibilities and less resources. For the past few years, I’ve found a lot of purpose in financially supporting the community at Mountain Home Montana. I got to know Mountain Home through a long friendship with their current executive director and her husband, who let me sleep on their couch and found me a room to rent when I first landed in Missoula- no small example of putting their values in action inside and outside of the office.

My own mom had my oldest brother at 19, alone, and in a foreign country. She had some help, but it was a far cry from the comprehensive and compassionate network that Mountain Home Montana provides.

They are celebrating 20 years of operations this month, and asked me to help find 20 new donors to pitch in $20 each. I’m happy to match half of the ask, and hope that you’ll consider joining me in supporting the young moms and dads that Mountain Home Montana helps put down roots here in this amazing place.
https://mountainhomemt.org/donate/

Thanks.

2019 – A Summary

I didn’t get a lot of writing done this year. We moved, bought a house, changed jobs, traveled the world, traveled the west, got a dog, and celebrated family. A few photos just for the photo, a few photos just for the moment and the people. I’m just a damn lucky dude.

Adventure Enablers

Occasionally, I am lucky enough to have readers say “wow, that was a great post/cool adventure/link/whatever, how can I support your blog?” I’ve never really wanted to raise money from this little writing project, but the adventures don’t happen for free. One thing that has made most of these stories possible are generous friends in far away places. Margaret has hosted me, fed me, and driven me around Alaska countless days and nights. Now, she’s looking for a loan for her business supporting the local food movement in Alaska. Join me in supporting her campaign thru Kiva.org, and consider making a donation to Kiva while you are there.

https://www.kiva.org/lend/1745300

You can read about some of my time with Margaret here, here, and here. If you haven’t heard of kiva.org, they provide a platform for micro-finance loans all over the world. I’ve been a supporter since 2015 and generally have made a point of supporting small construction entrepreneurs in South America. I’ve also loved supporting a couple more local friends over the years. If voting with your dollars matters, this is the best way I’ve found to do it.

2019: Intention

My lovely step-dad once showed me a little of his spine. “If you want to change your life, just change it. If you know you need to change, don’t wait for some date or time. Just do it.” One day, I’ll get there. Grateful to have just had a really nice Christmas with him in Chicago. Somehow it’s still useful to have a blank slate to reset my intentions. 01/01 is a day worth paying attention to. Change is hard- it takes persistence and encouragement. Regular re-commitment to the goal. Regular practice, and a willingness to fail- often repeatedly.

Resolutions:

-Communicate conflict without aggression. Same passion, same rigor, same intention. Less tension, less aggression.
-Write more than I did in 2018. 12 blog posts minimum.
-Learn to knit.

Some other gentle reminders:

-More Headspace. Less Instagram.
-More climbing, less “training.”
-Less judgement, more observation.
-Less hesitation, more taking things all the way through.
-More working at my very limit. Not just “hard enough”

2018 you were amazing. Welcome 2019, I’m ready for more.


Welcome to the Workplace

Stop thinking you are going to be a “leader” when you walk in the door.

I’ve enjoyed serving as a mentor for the Washington State Opportunity Scholars program over the past few years. I drafted this post a while back, but sitting on some recent interviews and recruiting events prompted me to finish some reflections on what I’ve learned from the really awesome team of young employees I work with.

The typical narrative for emerging professionals is “be a leader!” Every university magazine touts the institution’s ability to train leaders. LinkedIn articles and business magazines buzz with advice about “entrepreneurship” and “innovation.

It makes me want to gag.

The most impressive and effective young professionals I work with encompass a description I learned on a NOLS course: “active followership”. They have found a leader whom they trust, and figured out how to support them really well. Their job hasn’t been leadership.  My department head is the leader- leading is their job, and the best way to support them is being a person that will reliably get stuff done. Sometimes it means leading other employees, but most of the time, it means getting stuff done.  This is active followership.  Here is what I see them doing (and what I enjoy learning to do better):

  • Ask great questions, and don’t be shy about it.
  • Clarify the commitments and expectations being asked of you. Be certain of what you are trying to do, before you go try to do it.
  • Be as knowledgable and focused about the outcome of your assignment as your boss is.
  • Figure out how to run tasks to ground- so that you leave nothing un-done.
  • Make your work as concise, thorough, and on message as it can possibly be.
  • Solicit the opinions of other people in your office (and outside your project team) to provide feedback and input (something your boss might not have time to do).
  • They pay attention to their peers, and actively look to learn from them. They also share what they know without hesitation.
  • They have engineering “moxie”- a willingness, and interest in doing a great job.

This is not traditional leadership. As an entry level employee- or anyone working as an individual contributor, the job is only mildly about delegation, or brainstorming, or innovating. It’s about making things happen.  As I slowly move into a position of delegating more, these lessons remain just as important to set others up for success.

 

Postscript:

A note on “moxie”- it’s the thing that really sets people apart, and deserves more explanation.
>Find something you are passionate about and think that you want to become an expert in. Realize that your time in entry level positions is the bread and butter of your experience- the foundation of your expertise. Get as gritty about it as you can- learn every part. For me in HVAC, that was drafting and installing, not just ideation and calculation. The earliest investments pay the biggest dividends- but they only pay if you stick with it for a long time. If you are trying out different things, do them as fully and deeply as you can- if they aren’t for you, the process will still benefit you when you finally find the thing you are supposed to do. I started my career in this field, but it took me the first 8 years to really feel passionate and invested in it. Had I been more intentional in thinking about the field as a craft and trade, and then more intentional about investing deeply, I would have done much better,  much more quickly.

The City

Fall has burst onto the city like a trap, summer is suddenly overshadowed by color in the trees and the crisp air of an early sunset. After an amazing wedding and lovely honeymoon, the professional responsibilities we happily shirked have surged out of the closet with fervor.

training, gym, weight lifting, burpies

Tuesday nights, trading one set of work for another.

I met Michael during my interview in 2015 and I hoped we would become friends regardless of what job I worked. I am grateful to be right, and our early friendship has since been nourished by miles of trail and late nights at the office. No surprise either that he also loves to suffer in the gym, and has been a reliable motivator to work on our weaknesses together.  A few weeks ago, both of us were headed for a late night at the office but managed to shift towards a different plan, well honed over the past years. We dropped into the company gym around 630pm and got dinner at a local joint around 8pm.  There is nothing like an old school ass-kicking to shed the weight of an overly full workday.  Conversation, when possible, ranges from business to art to the delicate balance of living in the city.

I haven’t written as much as he deserves, but our friendship has been one of the distinct highlights of my experience in the city. Seriously intelligent, both deeply passionate and empathetic, and always a pleasure to spend time with. Michael has supported me (and Abigail) in many great ways since we arrived here. Tonight I stopped by his desk around 6pm and encouraged him to get out of the office- and to ride together for the short common section of our commute home. He obliged and insisted on riding far out of his way, just for the joy of picking our way through Seattle traffic and catching up on life a bit. For a commute that I have regularly begrudged, I appreciated every moment.

Thanks for jumping at the chance, buddy. To many more.

 

Stick the Feeling. Now. Forever.

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This one, now, forever.
On October 21, I asked Abigail to marry me and she said yes.

As an engineer, I like to plan, I like to know how things are going to go. I like to understand and reason out the effort. The theme of this blog has always been about getting the feeling of something that I can’t reason with to stick well enough to do something special.

Abigail was committed before I was- and in these matters, she trusts that feeling more than I do. Her certainty in us made asking the big question much easier. A quick review of a feeling worth trusting:

 

 

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From a more recent note to a friend, discussing the corollary of climbing commitment:
“Marriage remains a leap, truly of faith… …That climbing helps me realize this is an obvious corollary- the difference between testing the crux moves, and the moment of full bore irreversible action, while may only appear to involve a slight change in physical position- is dramatically different in mental position. That is the leap. That is the commitment.”

That real love though, the stuff that scares you with it’s durability and it’s repose, that love isn’t going to wait. It isn’t going to let you “slide into it” because it’s convenient. That real love, demands a leap. A lot like climbing, it is worth getting out of your comfort zone for, and you can’t just hang out under the crux forever. I popped the question when I accepted the joyful inevitability of her partnership with me. When I accepted that I was never going to be perfect for this relationship, and that perfection wasn’t necessary for it to be right for us.

Every crux that has demanded my full commitment, has been scary and hard. Every crux has required humility and the right partner.  And every single one, has been worth it. I’ve been climbing with the right partner for a while now, and it is nothing short of glorious to pull through this crux together.

 

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To Truly Dance

Dear Mom,
You died on Saturday, April 1, 2017. It was a surprise. I was skiing in Whistler, British Columbia, as likely of a place as I was to be as anywhere.  I’m grateful there weren’t many things I still needed to say to you. In the time since, I’ve told our story so many times: after dad died- I grew up close to you, close to the church. We grew apart, bitterly on my behalf, when I left the church and moved west.  I found my own truth and we pieced it back together slowly, like the beautiful blankets you made for Soren and I. The last few years of your life held some of our most honest and loving conversations. The most recent lesson: that feeling the same faith is less important than feeling each others humanity.

A few more favorites:

The air smelled thick of cut grass and the quiet, high-ceilinged church- I was 9, and stood up for the first time to give a testimony in Wednesday night church. I was just back from summer church camp full of newfound confidence. The cicadas chirped outside in the sticky midwestern summer. I shared a short truth about overcoming my fears at summer camp, you beamed. My faith is different now, but no less strong- you made faith cool.

I was 13 when you were finally able to tell me about my half-brother in Australia- he was half a world away, wondering who I was. I was so mad at you- his existence seemed to refute the moralist foundation you raised me with. Ultimately, welcoming him openly into our family inspired us all to a greater sense of compassion and honesty. I can only hope to learn so much from my own indignities.

At 17 you let me drive your new car and two friends 1500 miles to spend two weeks on our own in the Wind River mountains. When we got out, you flew to Jackson to shuttle us back to the car, feed us, and send us off on the drive home. You experienced the mountains differently than I do, but loved them no less. You refused to let the fears of the world darken the light of your experience, or mine.

We were eating at Lulu’s Noodles during the spring of my freshman year at Northwestern. I was terrified, because I had met you for lunch to tell you I was dropping out of music school. To my surprise, you took it in stride and cheered for me to enjoy a more relaxed version of college. That’s when I learned your dreams for me were nothing less than exactly my own.

I skipped my graduation from Northwestern to go on a NOLS course in Alaska. Instead, you sent 5 dozen cookies up to our expedition because I was part of a winning team in my college design competition. it seemed out of place at the time, but I realize now it was the sweetest way that you could say you were proud of me. You always knew how to celebrate the important things.

Last Christmas we went out for deep dish, the whole family of us. Over the years I had always ducked the opportunity to pick up the check at a family dinner but in 2016 I was glad not to skip the chance. You always lived with the assumption of having enough to do the right thing- whether you had a lot or not. There was always enough.

And that is the point- we had less time than we all hoped, but it was enough. I’m still learning how much you cared for us, how great of a mom you were. I think you’re proud of me- I hope you know how proud we are of you.

“Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”   (Kahlil Gibran)

Climb on, mom.

You can enjoy some of my mom’s ideas through her lecturing and writing work for the Church of Christ, Scientist- her most recent piece is particularly excellent. Our family is deeply grateful for your compassion, however there will be no service. You can honor Lois most meaningfully through a donation to her church or to Mountain Home Montana

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