The Perfect Picture!

How Your Ambitions Hurt The People You Care About

Within everyone there is a desire for greatness. We want to be known for our grand acts, our abundant wisdom, and the whimsical ease in which we wow the world. As children we dream of being super heroes, to be gods of the playground. As adolescents we dream about being rock stars or professional athletes. Some achieve these goals, but the majority continues on with their lives, aspiring to have successful rewarding careers with happy families and ample vacation time. Finally, we look for the perfect retirement plan, as close or far away from family as we see fit. Each person has there own unique desires for the future and our drive to achieve these goals is our ambition.

American’s love the ambitious underdog. The story of the talentless, penniless, nobody who through pure determination becomes a hero is what inspirational Hollywood movies thrive on. Whether it is the loser getting the girl, the under talented under funded sports team winning the championship, or the man who punches raw meat in a freezer beating the boxing champ, we love it every time. Movie producers can recycle this plot a thousand times and we will never get old of it because it gives us hope that we can make our dreams happen too. “If an Indian slum dweller can get onto ‘Who wants to be a Millionaire’ and win then so can I!” we think to ourselves after confusing the real point of Slumdog Millionaire. We tell inadvertently tell ourselves time and time again that it doesn’t matter who I hurt or what I lose, if I get the goal then it will all be worth it. Our ambitions are a great gift that can push us to become people who have achieved what we never knew we could do. But every gift comes with a cost and an ignorance of ambition's cost is surely a recipe for a lonely and ultimately fruitless life.

The way our ambitions affect those around us was recently demonstrated to me on a simple hiking trip with a friend. My friend Cassie and I planned to go on a hike to a local waterfall that neither of us had been to before. We had the day off and an"adventure" sounded like a nice way to spend it. We headed out bright and early to make sure we had time to stop in Portland to pick up some overpriced lattes before finding our destination.

Gorton Creek Falls is just off the Columbia River Gorge and is completely surrounded by the reverent beauty of nature. Towering Evergreens cascade down the mountains as if to hint at the hidden water that falls freely among them. The trail begins along the river before eventually turning into a series of rocks and trees you have to climb over as you continue to follow the river up to the source. Nothing like rock climbing makes me feel more like a delighted child and as I ducked below branches and maneuvered over the moss I constantly stayed alert for especially impressive views I wished to capture.

At the end of the year I always appreciate having pictures so I can remember what happened in my year. They also work as a nice way to tell your friends your also cool because once a month you go on hikes to cool looking places instead of sitting on your computer like the rest of the month. However, there was an element of purity in picture pursuit as I hoped to demonstrate to others the raw beauty of an area. I wanted to find just the right angle to capture it all. The creek, the waterfall, the moss folding over everything like a soft blanket, and the bare rocks slippery and jagged from years of standing against the cold caress of the creek.

Gorton Creek Falls

After a relatively short journey we made it to the waterfall. How so much water can constantly be streaming through I’ll never be able to understand. To be honest the amount of water flowing to and fro through rivers and creeks, into oceans and seas, I’ll never fully be able to grasp. For some strange reason it’s all too much for little brain to comprehend. Regardless, a subtle mist greeted us as we came up upon an overflow of that marvelous mystery. Mother Nature’s gift to the winsome wonderer: a roaring waterfall.

As we headed back I was again reminded that slippery slopes are always safer going up then down. It was at this time I spotted my white whale, the pristine picture location. I spotted a dirt patch across the river that would give a perfect view of the bubbling brook while allowing the falls in the background to shyly peak into frame. My desire to capture the perfect picture (and all the pride and social reward that comes with it) was perfectly matched by a call to adventure. I determined that my future lay on the other side of that river.

Now there was no safe way across the river. It was just wide enough to be unable to jump across and there was no safe path across. The rocks came in two hazardous varieties: overgrown with moss or sharp, smooth, and slick. My friend was not keen on me going, mostly because she was afraid I would slip, crack my head open, and drift unconscious down the river. I failed to quell her fears with a simple, “Don’t worry, I got this,” followed by a quick thumbs up and turned to find my route. The easiest path I could find involved hopping to a boulder, clinging to said boulder while dangling a little leg out in order to get to a small rock in the middle of the river, before finally leaping onto a log from which I could hop onto the other side. This was all done in a less than elegant but overall successful manner. I was feeling confident and a bit smug about how quickly and efficiently I reached my goal. I snapped my picture and turned to plot my way back.

My "Perfect" Picture

I looked puzzled as I realized the way I had come was not a safe way to head back. While previously I had a boulder to hold onto for balance, from the this side I would have to jump onto the tiny slick rock and then go for the boulder which I was not sure I trusted my feet to stay attached to. Across the river Cassie shouted my name with a clear hint of fear and worry. Her voice and face showed that she was much less afraid about her own safety and much more afraid for mine. It was a side of her I’d not seen before. I’ve always seen her a strong and confident person. This image built off stories like the time she fell in an open park service hatch and got a piece of metal wedged into her calve. In that instance she did not cry while the paramedics had to cut the metal off of the hatch and then rip it out of her leg, instead she had to console her friend who was so scared for her that he was crying. She was strong and capable and I had always seen her this way, but in this moment she seemed like a worried momma hen watching their chick get grabbed by the butcher.

This is where the reality of my ambition started to dawn on me. I had been so self-absorbed weighing the risks verses the reward and letting my ambitions drive me that I had never thought about how putting myself in danger might cause her to feel. As I scrambled up and down the river looking for a way back she was stuck on the other side, unable to help and unable to keep the worst possible scenarios from playing through her head. I’ve never in my life heard my name called out so many times with such fear and hurt in the voice. I eventually, and very begrudgingly, took off my shoes and socks and waded through the freezing water. My more empathetic side realizing my warmth in that moment was not worth making my friend wait any longer in fear.

When I reached the other side she released a sigh of relief and as the fear subsided it was not followed by anger or laughter but rather by a soft sadness. I had broken her trust. Though unspoken there was an agreement within our friendship that we would not intentionally put each other in fear filled situations. I had been a bad friend. My ambition and the pursuit of that dream had led me to abandon her and disregard how she was feeling about what I was doing. I realized my mistake and was quick to apologize and was lucky that she was quick to forgive, but I left some of her trust at the river that day, trust I will have to work to get it back.

Western culture preaches pursuit of our dreams at any cost. We are told we need to have what it takes to overcome any obstacle. If people are getting in the way then when push comes to shove you shove them to a place where they cannot get in the way. You push others aside so you can go and go and go until you reach what you’re striving for. Ambition is praised and reaching your dreams is worshiped. But at what cost are you getting what you desire?

When you reach that mountaintop and you turn to see who is still with you will you find anyone? Or will you look down the path and see a path of bodies. Friends and family that you cast away in order to summit your dreams. And alone atop your peak you’ll sit and know that this life was not about you and it was not about your dreams. Alone you will sit and know that it was about how your dreams could bless those around you and with the clarity only found in reflecting your mistakes, you will see that your ambitions and the source of your greatest strength can be your greatest enemies.

We cast aside what matters today for our hopes and dreams of tomorrow and all we reap as a result is an unreachable dream, always a day away. As you step out into pursuing your goals think of this, “Whom am I doing this for and how will it affect those I care about?” because it doesn’t matter if you get the perfect picture, if you don't have anyone to share it with.

Percolator VS. Coffee Maker: Choosing To Steep In "GREAT" Ideas

Today, like most days, I awoke tired. On these days I kick-start myself awake by pumping my body with human gasoline, the magical juice that keeps first world humanity going. This invaluable liquid I’m referring is, of course, coffee. Coffee is a beautiful drink, but the real reason I want to discuss the methodology of making it has much more to do with the way our culture is trying to ingest ideas then beverages. But first we need to discuss the brown bean a bit before getting on to the uncanny parallels between coffee and culture.

Coffee needs no introduction but out of respect I will give it a brief one. According to my extensive research (on Wikipedia), coffee first came out of Arabia in the 15^th century. Like so many other wonderful items it made it ways across the Mediterranean Sea before exploding in popularity throughout Europe and eventually landing on my side of the Pacific Ocean in America. As it gained popularity over the centuries wise men from all corners of the globe (which has no corners but we’ll explore that in later posts) tinkered and experimented with various ways to get the most out of the bitter nectar of life. This has left the world with an absurd amount tools and techniques to get our java juice out of those magic beans and into our veins and membranes. Even today you can find lists of all the new and improved ways of making that morning brew. My local third wave coffee roaster Stumptown goes so far as to make video tutorials to tell you just how to use coffee to wow your friends (which requires all their products of course).

Despicable...

However, for all this rich coffee history, many American’s have fallen on the “lazy mans” style of making coffee, the Mr. Coffee coffee maker. Of all the despicable methods of coffee making this one is the worst. Its crude methodology only soaks the grounds once and hopes that the flavor seeps through as it laboriously trickles over.

I’m no coffee expert and to be completely frank I actually do not care that much about my coffee being of the highest caliber. At the end of the day coffee is simply a tool to wake up my tired and burdened morning bones, and a more enjoyable tool then taking a cold shower or actually getting a proper amount of sleep. But bare with me a little longer as I describe one more technique, because the analogy it projects has profound implications for our lives.

The Beautiful Percolator

Of all the methods of transferring taste, and caffeine into my coffee without receiving a cup full of grinds, the one I enjoy the most is a device called a percolator. Now to percolate is to filter slowly a gas or liquid through a porous material and a percolator does this with your coffee grinds over and over again. The way it works is by sucking the water up a metal straw to the top and dousing the grinds over and over again, repeatedly immersing the water in the flavor as it boils. The result is a thoroughly tasty cup a jo with a natural flare to it that destroys any coffee makers poor attempts to match. It takes just as little work, and finishes faster then a coffee maker, and also allows you to determine exactly what size and ratio of coffee you want in it.

If your not a coffee connoisseur this is most likely far more then you needed to read about coffee, and no, a company that sells percolators is not sponsoring this…yet! The reason I wanted to talk about this is because it is a near perfect representation of how our culture is absorbing new and improved ideas verses how I believe our culture should be absorbing ideas. Many noted authors, cultural commentators, sociologists, and general laymen have noted that the world only seems to be getting smaller while the amount of information available is expanding far past what we can reasonably keep up with and ingest. This is not a new problem. Our brains simply are not designed to be dusty computer hard drives full of unnecessary knowledge. And yet, we treat our brains like they should be these super computers, which can recall any necessary stray piece of information we have ever heard at any moment so that we’ll always appear to know more than anyone around us. Pride and insecurity dwell deep in hearts and drive us to a desire to keep up with everything going on in this overwhelming hurricane of information that daily bombards our doorstep.

Our pursuit of knowledge leads us to quickly grab onto new knowledge, take the quick douse as it seeps over our brain, before downing and dowsing our brain with something else. This method of quickly attempting to inherit all the information of the world in one go is the human equivalent of the coffee makers style. This style ultimately overwhelms our weary minds with intolerable amounts of information that do not need and week later do not remember.

There are two facts I believe are essential to root deep within us if we hope to survive the chaotic maelstrom of information.

1. Admit you cannot keep up.

            There is too much for you or me or anyone to possibly keep up with being thrown into the Internet everyday. By admitting we cannot keep up we give ourselves the freedom to choose who and what we want to keep up with. So sure follow your favorite sports team, be plugged into your family, know what’s going on in the realm of your specialty, but don’t expect to know everything about everything all the time. When you give yourself this freedom you will find yourself implicitly giving this freedom to others as well. This creates a more freeing environment for discussion that feels less like a competition and more like an unexpected and surprisingly intriguing dinner party discussion.

2. Give up the “good” for the “great!”

            This is a life altering and transforming truth. Credit goes to Bob Goff and Donald Miller for introducing me to this idea (their incredibly people. Truly greats at shaping perspective and helping us tell better stories with our lives). We need to give up dousing ourselves once with a lot of good information and instead allow ourselves to sit and reflect on great information. Stop and think about what quotes, books, movies, and people have had the greatest impact on your life. Instead of trying to fill your mind with the newest “good” advice, go back and relook at the truly great advice. Spend a day and let certain key quotes soak into your essence. Have a conversation with a mentor or someone who breathes life into your work. Sit and listen on repeat to a song that moves you or skim through a book and look at those places you highlighted and reread what you found so striking. These are the “great” ideas we need to have deeply ingrained within us. These are the ideas we need to percolate through time and time again until we embody the truth they envelop.

There is an abundance of new information constantly on the horizon. Catchy headlines plague our browsers, screaming for our clicks and likes. They are not all bad, but simply indulging in the information of yesterday repackaged for today without ever learning the rooted message will leave you forever lacking. Instead steep yourself in the “Great” lessons from your own and others history, so that you might learn to be who you want to be, and avoid repeating the past. Do not be the lazy cog who simply skims through pop thought of the day, be the wise monk who reflects on the simply truth to produce the profound and beautiful.

Does God Care If I Succeed?

There is nothing I enjoy more on a rainy day then sitting with tea by my side and a fire to my back. I sip the bitter warmth and watch the sky wash the earth, quenching the thirst of the vegetation below. Apathy and appeasement lead me to the wondering whims of my brain as it drifts from thought to thought. There is a contentment found in allowing your questions to dance dizzily through your mind without demanding they find a resting place at the end. Like a good cliché I enjoy the scene amidst a coffee shop, because I own no fireplace of my own. My long hair is pulled up and hidden beneath a beanie to hide the fact I avoided both the natural and civilized form of showers. Intermittently I watch as faces of friends and strangers wonder past too preoccupied to notice my subtle gaze. There is a simple beauty to being invisible amidst the sea of people.

Among all this self-indulgent idealism a question lingers, unlike the others this one demands my attention. The question has been plaguing my oft-weary mind since I made the decision to strike out on my own and attempt to make my living on the uncertain seas of freelance writing. I work these waters, navigating my way through words and paragraphs as if I was Captain Ahab himself, and find a single unknowable question reappear time and time again.

Will I succeed?

As I ponder this question I seek answers from the all knowing and in doing so come to a question far more perturbing then the original.

Does God care if I succeed?

With terror I am coming to a greater conviction every day that the answer to this question in almost unequivocally no. No, God does not care. These words rip out from beneath me the safety net I’ve lived my entire life reliant on. Surely God wants me to pursue my dreams right? Surely God would not give me a desire to do something that would result in me landing face first in the dirt, embarrassed and shamefully begging for a job? Why would God send me out onto seas simply to see me sink below the waves of inexperience and immaturity in my craft?

I believe the answer to this riddle comes when I stop asking myself, “Why God would not always grant me success?” and instead ask, “What might God care about more than my success?” Before concluding I suppose I ought to back up and retrace my line of logic and experience that brought me to these convictions.

When I decided I wanted to quit me job, step out of the safety and comfort, and pursue a passion I truly wanted to live for I decided to talk to trusted family, friends, and mentors first. I wanted to pray about it to see if I could receive some clarity on this decision, in short to have a safety net on stepping out into the unknown. I wanted to know God would allow my sail happily along my way without sinking along the way. I desired to know with 100% certainty that the moves I was making were the ones I was supposed to make and that would make me succeed. Of course the only way to truly know that is to ask the one who makes the plans for our lives. Enter God.

So I made my plans to get my net back. I got together with the aforementioned groups and after much prayer with them as well as individually I found my fears to be true. Neither I nor anyone else received for me a single affirmative or negative note on my decision. Instead what I received was a series of verses that referred to the state of my heart. On my own I received Romans 12, a passage much to do with the state of our hearts toward serving God and others and little to do with pursuing your dreams (in fact it could be argued to being the opposite of that). When others spoke into my life we found Proverbs 3:5-6 to be reoccurring verses, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.” Again this pointed toward a state of my heart, not a matter of victory, success, or any affirmation of ability.

I reflected on this with some discouragement and frustration before coming to terms with this truth. God does not care whether I make a million dollars or two dollars, write a best selling book or write a page, am successful or spectacularly fail in front of friends and family. At least He does not care about any of these things in the way the world sees them. Rather God cares about whether throughout the journey my faith and trust rest upon Him.

Perhaps I will write essays and articles bursting with such beauty that it enlarges and enlightens the literary world. Alternatively I might spend a month spewing my thoughts into the whirlwind, unable to raise my voice above that of the storm. It matters little. If my heart is right before God, my motives pure and true, then much like the widow who presented her penny, her lack, her poverty, in gratefulness to God, I too will be justified by the one who sees my heart. To love God and love others is the greatest gift I can present and I pray that the time spent, with however long I’m given to spend my days producing poetry out of my poverty, be stripped of my pride and pretension and instead be filled with love for God. I pray that encouragement and enlightenment is instilled on those who read that, and that the words might build them up. This is the hope I am called to and as I follow the call to step out onto the seas, I am eager see if I’ll sink, swim, or stand on the waters presented before me.

This is the journey, admittedly explained in a style far more dramatic and self-indulgent then necessary, that I am heading toward. I would be honored by your presence on the voyage and if you feel obliged feel free to subscribe on the top right side to get emailed with more thoughts in the coming month. I will warn you, I will be producing a great deal of content so be warned, there will be an influx in your inbox. However, if you are interested I will love the company.

Thanks and Enjoy,
Colby

Stepping Into The Dark Unknown

I woke up today shaking. Not shaken. Not “very” nervous or “really” anxious. I literally woke up shaking. I’ve never woken up shaking before, so this was a new experience. Don’t worry I was not having a stroke. No need to call my mom or phone an ambulance.

I was simply afraid.

You see a couple of days ago I was reading a book that questioned the story my life was living. It questioned if I was truly living a great story. If a movie were made of my life would it be one that would compel people towards a grander, lofty perspective on life? Would it inspire, excite and delight audiences? I feel that if people watched my life now they would think, “This is fairly boring and I want my money back…plus this popcorn is making me feel sick why did I pay eight bucks for a bucket of hot corn lathered in a sea of curdled cow lactate and salt?”

While I would enjoy making people question the amount of money they spend on popcorn, I would much rather challenge myself, and others to change the world. To empower people toward positive change in themselves and to help bring positive change to the world around them. Because of this and more I put my two-week notice in at work and made the decision to pursue my dream of writing full time. To pursue my passions and see where they would take me.

Now this might sound hyper idealistic, but I’m earnestly not trying to be some sort of naïve college dropout romanticizing their artistic plight. This is no, “Save the world” one blog at a time pitch. This is not a scream for attention or just an escape from an incredibly unfulfilling job. I understand that you can’t always live your dreams. I know that hard work, pain, perseverance, and suffering are part of this whole, “being alive” gig. That being said, my head was having an increasingly difficult time escaping the voices pushing me to pursue the passions and desires erupting in my heart.

The list of quotes, analogies, and challenging truths that have guided me to this decision are too numerous to responsibly list here but there are a few noteworthy ones. The aforementioned book above is Donald Millers, “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years,” and has been the straw to break proverbial camels back in my decision process. The words of Peter Scazzero in, “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” forced me to question if I was being faithful to who I actually wanted to be, or if I was the person my fear told me it was safe to be. Finally I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was made to be more than I was living up to. Maybe we can’t all live our dreams but what kind of fool would I be if I didn’t try while I was still young enough to do so without serious ramifications! So with these ideas running through my head and after a few key conversations I decided to put my two weeks in.

Fast forward to this morning.

My thoughts in the morning are always more depressed and pessimistic then those at night. Fear physically gripped me to the point of shaking. The visceral question “What are you doing?” raced through my head before I even had to chance to remember what I was doing and why I needed to question it.

I feel as though I’m standing on the edge of a precipice. Black swirling clouds billow infinitely in front of me and I can see no evidence that when I step out I’m not just going to fall forever. Faith demands I take a step and as I move out I can see one step at a time. My steps are lit only where I am, making each step clear only after I have committed to the action. I have little doubt that at the end of this journey, if I truly commit, I will find something magnificent and mysterious awaiting discovery amidst the clouds. A palace of possibilities lingers just beyond the familiar and safe.

So I’m stepping out. I’m terrified, but I’m excited and though I’ll face doubt daily, I’m ready.

I’m curious what will come of this time. Will this spur on a life of whimsy and adventure or will I crawl back to my boss in a month’s time with my tail between legs and beg for mercy? I don’t know. The only thing I know is this,

The future is a mystery and I intend to solve it.