About three weeks ago, I announced (with tremendous fan fare and a rousing opening second only to Beijing’s Open Ceremonies) that I was starting my own business.  So, my dear and trusted readers are probably wondering, how are things going?

Well, so far so good, but some days I wake up and wonder if I would have been better off staying in Tibet as a yak herder.  Getting out of the gate is truly difficult: the work that you put in is all expense, with very little tangible results (everything is on paper) and half the wild ideas that I’ve come up with end up going in, not the recycling bin, but the trash.  Some of my original ideas were so bad, they were put on a train in contamination barrels headed for the Yucca Mountain Nuclear Waste Repository in Nevada.

Sarcasm aside, when I stand back and look back over the last month and look at the process that has gotten me to where I am right now, I’m rather amazed at it all.  Somehow, a little flicker of an idea sparked in my head, and through a rigourous process of throwing everything I could against a wall to see what stuck, has now turned a strategic and tactical plan that, if all goes well, is ready to be implemented and, barring any funding hiccups, should be live by the time we all sit down to eat Turkey.

Did you see that slight of hand?  I gave you a nice gloss over in my perfect plan above.  Funding!  While I’ve spent almost all of my professional career in Finance, asking people for moola hasn’t been the easiest experience.  On the fun scale it is somewhere between having your face duct taped to Michael Moore’s thigh on a 98-degree day in the middle of the jungle and being kicked in head by a Clydesdale.  Getting funded has almost nothing to do with Finance and everything to do selling yourself–just as much as your idea, if not more so–to people who are smarter and more experienced that you (that’s why they have money) and think you might be able to make them rich.

My description above is apt, but I’ve now embraced a core piece of my personality: I really do need to embrace my inner masochist.  Last year, when I was freezing in a tent at 19,000 feet ?  It sucked and I might have lost half my brain cells, but I loved it and would do it again and again.  As much as I whine about the funding process, and as much as it hurts starting from absolute zero, there is something really enlightening and actually <gulp> enjoyable about it.  It is amazing waking up in the morning with your unrestrained creative process as your best friend and, not being able to rely on anyone else, you have to figure out a way to take all of these ideas on paper and give them life.  In the Corporate world, my creative process has often gotten me into trouble, but here it is really the only asset I have.

This endeavor has also greatly challenged my views on optimism.  There are so many factors flying in your face every day that tell you that this is the most highly improbable thing you could be doing for yourself.  Much of my life, I’ve internally programmed my conscience to warn me of danger and to look for signs of safety.  Now, I am dangling myself out on a limb with my whole net worth, which isn’t exactly Gettyian, on the line with failure a strong possibility.  If I used the oh so illustrative and relevent Homeland Security Threat Level Metrics to measure the early stages of my constitution under likelihood of upcoming danger as Severe, High, Elevated, Guarded and Low, I’d be somewhere around F–ked.

Initially, the bumps in the road set me to panic as I had somehow convinced myself that mistakes along the way were going to be costly to my meager sums and that my margin of error was way too small.  Now, I realize that a day without a setback is a day where I am probably not pushing myself hard enough.  It is difficult, day after day, deliberately throwing oneself into the fire without support, but after you do it a few times, it becomes kind of cool.  Not to say that I dance through this mine field as Fred Astair either, but somehow, my brain is starting to look beyond the clutter into the potential future.  Being wound up so tightly, it took a few blows to force me to loosen my grip and understand that I can actually stear a lot better when I’m laid back in the seat, with a cold, um, Pespi in my hand (I would never condone drinking and driving under any circumstances) and Panama cranking on the radio.

Who knows how this will all turn out, but so far, the most important thing I’ve learned is I’ve found where I belong.

Heart warmning, isn’t it?

Just like Jerry’s kids, I’m just buttering you up to take your wallet.  So, if you want to give me some MONEY, you know where to find me.

If not, enjoy the free Doritos, which I’ve grown addicted to in the last month.

Things have been running rather quiet here since the launch of Continuous Wonder, leaving the continuously loyal masses of our site to continuously wonder when we are going to consistently publish here. It is a fair question, as we’ve asked people to hold tight during this time of war and want while we get our crap together and commit to executing our vision. The purpose of this post is to give you an idea of what has been happening behind the scenes that will eventually provide the foundation and basis for what will be published in this space going forward.

The purpose behind this site is really something that, I believe, captures one of the central values I have, which is the conscious and deliberate engagement with the world around oneself and how we, as an individuals, interact with it. What you, the reader, will see is ultimately the contributors’ highest form of self-expression. However, although I’ve been speaking in terms of “us” and “we” here in that Continuous Wonder is a collective, the purpose of this post is just to give you a personal look into what “Doug” is doing and thinking and I speak for no one else who contributes to this site.

One year ago, today, I was freezing my butt off in a tent, halfway around the world at 20,000 feet, generally wondering just why the heck any sane individual would deliberately choose to do such a crazy thing. This trip was the most dangerous trip I’ve ever taken, not due to any physical harm that could come to me, but that I would gain the knowledge and awareness that I would be required to live my life in a way that will forever bring intense challenges and uncertainty. Some of the decisions I had to make were the beginning and ending of a fantastic relationship, changing jobs and, finally, the re-commitment to some larger physical challenges, which slipped away as many of the disordered and unbalanced parts of my life were causing static and mental roadblocks towards their fulfillment. Baring major injuries, I know now that any drop offs in physical activity are usually an outward manifestation of internal strife.

Before I could do what I set out to do, I’ve had to begin the process of reestablishing the foundations which will eventually allow me to do what I set out to do. My initial thoughts were that this site would go silent until these things were in place, but, I’ve learned something indirectly from my good friend Ian Wood, that the process of reestablishing and regaining your foothold IS the interesting story. Fulfillment is all good and wonderful, but how one gets there is what people relate to versus the eventual results of the story. Accomplishments don’t happen without going through a lot of shit along the way.

So, where am I right now? Here is what I wrote in my journal at the Rombuk Monastery after fending off some gastro-intestinal issues, one year ago today. In a moment of weakness, I wrote about that which provides the foundational and philosophical basis for the way I choose to live my life:

An event like this (getting sick) will seriously test your will. Stories of the early adventurers in Tibet are filled with many contracting dysentery and even malaria, but those who didn’t die, found away to keep pushing on.

I’m thinking, more so than anything, that this trip is something that I need to do in order to learn that pain, suffering and discomfort are not things to be avoided at all costs. Pushing oneself and dealing with all the unseen and “unfair” adversity along the way are ultimately what makes us real human beings.

I feel so decadent in that my motivations are many times driven by the path of least resistance. My decision making is strongly influenced by this and I think this is why I’ve been ultimately restless for quite a while. I’m not taking care of my duties in the way that I know I need to only because I am trying to avoid any real pain…

This is the bottom of my depression. Once there, I see how lazy and fearful I’ve been and I start feeling very sorry for myself and many times I revert back to the anesthetizing behaviors that are ultimately harmful to me in the long-run.

Sitting here, on these rest days, although they are essential for your physical body, they are murderous on you mentally. The downtime gives you plenty of time to sit in your head and blow a lot of things out of proportion. It really leads me to question why I’m here when I could be at home in an easier life. Now, I recognize these thoughts for what they are and make the conscious choice to push on. In this case, I really have no choice and that is why I’m here. No excuses, no blame, no sore feelings, just a commitment to keep pushing to the goal regardless of how much it hurts to get there.

It still leaves me with an extremely uncomfortable uncertainty around what lies ahead. I keep relying on the trust that I’ve placed in my preparations, plan and, most importantly, my team. We’ve done an excellent job in staying strong and healthy to this point, our acclimatization plan is excellent and we have a great Sherpa with some very solid experience here.

This is the crux for me. Full, 100%, pure commitment. Putting one foot in front of the other, not looking back and, as our Sherpa says, “bhurti, bhurti” or “slowly, slowly” doing what we set out to do.

I hesitated to put this post up, because it is pretty revealing and a little embarrassing to admit and formally document your personal failings and weaknesses. But, I think that this vulnerability is required to gain a way of living that I consciously choose, apart from mindless routine designed to construct certainty and the illusion of safety. This is what Bruce Lee meant when he said, “When one is not expressing himself, he is not free. Thus he begins to struggle and the struggle breeds methodical routine. Soon, he is doing his methodical routine as a response rather than responding to what is.”

The other hesitation towards publishing this post, has to do with a fear of having this post interpreted as preaching to anyone who reads this as a check on how you should live your life. This is not my intention whatsoever. I don’t know who you are (Lord knows, I am having a hard enough time figuring my own thing) and it is up to you to do what you think is right in living your own life. I’m only writing about what I need to do, and if that inspires you, great, if it doesn’t, well, go jump in a lake. Only kidding, of course, I just hope that whoever you are, you can enjoy what we are about here and realize that this site is focused on being inclusive and that, at the very least, you can enjoy a couple of good jokes and some excellent pictures. Know that the “Comments” at the bottom are designed for all of you to bring a dialog to our monologues and that, without hearing from you, we feel like worthless dirt-bags who are doing all of this for nothing. Actually, we just like hearing from you as part of our interaction with the world is done through this site just as much as it is in the various adventures we engage in.

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As an epilogue to this post, for the good of the order, there are some practical restraints keeping me from writing here EVERYDAY. While the above post was designed to explain that excuses are bad, I do indeed have some very real, practical time restraints due to my current job that will prevent me from fully experiencing the “free” life that I’m determined to share with you. While I will be applying what I wrote about to work, I can’t write about it here. First of all, there is absolutely no way anyone would want to read it and, second, I can’t talk about it anyway. So, I’ll be committed towards delivering somewhat regular updates as I continue ridding myself of some further unnecessary time restraints outside of work, but the near long-term is going to continue to be sporadic when the required time spent in the office increases. When the time requirements ebb, you’ll see mighty flourishes from me that will leave you in strange bewilderment and confusion–but at least, you’ll have new content to read while you’re bored at work.

Sorry for the long hiatus here.  I’ve been in the middle of transitioning to a new job.  My last day is at my current gig is on Friday, then I go to Cabo for 6 days, and then I start the day after my return at my new gig. 

Lots of fun stuff in store for Cabo–I’ll be posting about my upcoming adventures shortly afterwards. 

Tonight I’m heading back up to the mountains to ski into the middle of nowhere with a large pack on my back.  The trip will involve approximitely 18 hours of driving, 2 red bulls, 4 Van Halen albums, 48 hours of exhausting ski touring and climbing, 7 GU packs, one long trailless and manzanilla-choked canyon, a beautiful snow-laden couloir and a 14,000′+ summit.  Early season conditions will surely be challenging, and some serious suffering is on the agenda.  Why do I drive such long distances only to hurt?  Maybe it is best said by the bumper sticker I once saw — “My Best Vacation is Your Worst Nightmare”.  Another perspective is seen here, in an article I wrote for Couloir Magazine a few years ago.

Enjoy the suffering!

“Franz,” one of our yaks, which carried our goodies up to Interim Camp

Rombuk Monastery Stupa in front of Mount Everest (our green kitchen tent is in the foreground)