Pieces of Oslo











I didn’t find myself able (yet?) to distill the usual “10 Lessons I Learnt from Traveling to Oslo” kind of post, but what I can say for now is this:

  • Oslo is a beautiful city.
  • It is also extremely expensive. I was never happier about my carry-on bottle of rum.
  • Eat more cakes. They are delicious and, interestingly, the cheapest thing we could find in the whole city.
  • I don’t know what they put on their lawn (Milo: “Shite?”), but I do know how it smells (Milo: “Shite!”). Not a good idea to give the whole city an aroma of, well, shite.
  • The end of the world is actually not the end of the world.
  • Meeting your blogging friends in real life is a great experience. It feels like a natural extension of what we’re doing here and we need more of it.

More information? Michael’s portrait party, Milo’s photos and, of course, Milo’s video diary of our trip!

Mountain Shores #3: Cakes and Slow Travel

Our podcast baby has a name, finally! Started as a wee experiment, we’re glad to bring you Mountain Shores episode 3, recorded with my co-host Milo McLaughlin and our regular guest (let’s me honest: our co-host honorem causa) Michael Nobbs.

In a premiere, we met up in real life – in order to attend Chris Guillebeau’s Party at the End of the World, celebrating the fact that he achieved his goal of visiting every country in the world by the age of 35 (it was also his birthday party!).

On a mountainside in Oslo, Milo, Michael and myself discuss slow travel, making deeper and more meaningful connections (even at crazy parties) and why the word awesome can sometimes feel a bit awkward to say out loud (but is still referring to a good thing). Also, feat. lots of cakes. Think of it as a special guest.

Listen to the podcast on soundcloud.com

Show Notes

Also, see some wonderful photos of the trip by the amazing Milo McLaughlin over at Flickr. (And at the top of this post!)

How to Live 100 Years

Psst, today is Beyond Rules Day! Go to Amazon and grab a free copy of my first book! (Details at the bottom of this post.)

Here’s the story of a lung cancer patient who was given six months to live and decided to go to his native Greek island to die:

Six months came and went. Moraitis didn’t die. Instead, he reaped his garden and, feeling emboldened, cleaned up the family vineyard as well. Easing himself into the island routine, he woke up when he felt like it, worked in the vineyards until midafternoon, made himself lunch and then took a long nap. In the evenings, he often walked to the local tavern, where he played dominoes past midnight. The years passed.

It’s a great story, and a beautifully written article. You really should read it, as it will warm your heart. But as a public service in these busy times, here’s an executive summary on how to live a hundred years:

  • Transfer a bunch of communists and radicals to a remote island. (Be sure to add plenty of friendly anarchists!)
  • Smoke as you please, but stop sometime before your 80th birthday.
  • Have a couple of glasses of wine a day.
  • Then, have another 1 or 2.
  • Have fresh, unprocessed, local produce.
  • And plenty of fish.
  • Some meat, but don’t exaggerate.
  • Have two or three cups of coffee, plenty of herbal teas, …
  • …and loads of olive oil.
  • Have it all slowly, and with good company and enjoyable conversation.
  • Take naps. Lots of them. Don’t go to bed too early, but feel free to sleep in. (Wake naturally!)
  • Meet people to chat every single day.
  • Have sex. Regularly. And don’t stop just because you’re older than 70 years!
  • Stay active, keep doing things: Work in the garden, keep your friendships and your hobbies alive. If you’re enjoying life, why the fuck retire and spend your day sitting in a chair?
  • Don’t wear a watch. ((Here’s what Dr. Ilias Leriadis says, one of Ikaria’s few physicians: “Have you noticed that no one wears a watch here? No clock is working correctly. When you invite someone to lunch, they might come at 10 a.m. or 6 p.m. We simply don’t care about the clock here.”))
  • Don’t care about money. Make your community an ‘us’ place! ((Quoting Dr. Leriadis again: “For the many religious and cultural holidays, people pool their money and buy food and wine. If there is money left over, they give it to the poor. It’s not a ‘me’ place. It’s an ‘us’ place.”))
  • Be self-sufficient. Don’t just have one job, but learn to work in different areas. Learn to manage your life. The real things, you know, not just the bureaucracy.
  • Accept less privacy. Thea Parikos, a guesthouse owner, says: “When everyone knows everyone else’s business, you get a feeling of connection and security.”
  • Give meaning to your life.

If you do all this, you might just forget to die.

Today is Beyond Rules Day, the 2nd anniversary of the release of my first book, Beyond Rules. In order to celebrate, please go to Amazon.com and download a free copy (offer valid until Sunday, March 17, 23:59pm PST). If you enjoy it, you would become a favorite person of mine by leaving a positive review.

Alternative download links:

Mountain Shores and Tiny Steps

As I was busy traveling through Colombia, diving deeply into my research on the topic of creative idleness, Milo McLaughlin and I found a working wi-fi signal and some time to record a follow-up episode to our surprisingly successful December podcast.

Listen in to hear my deplorable attempts to command the English language when describing the beautiful city of Medellín ((Mountain shores? Mountain shores?!? That just makes no sense at all. Mountain range was the word I was looking for.)), and our thoughts on the beginning of 2013.

Then, say hello to our very special guest Michael Nobbs! We talked with Michael about theming every month of the year, reflection and planning, the usefulness of even tiny creative steps, and about his new (work)book that inspires people to draw more. Hear how it feels to write a “real” book and to work with an editor, learn about Milo’s failsafe strategy to keeping his promises in 2013, and see how it all ends with the sudden appearance of a delicious Colombian breakfast.

The best 33 minutes you’ll ever spend with a podcast today!

Show Notes

The Transition

“Nothing is as empowering as real-world validation, even if it’s for failure.” –Steven Pressfield

People have asked me what drove my decision to become a full-time publisher. ((Or writer. Artist. Call it whatever you want. I’ve yet to order my business cards, but might eventually just go with the good old dilettante label.)) It’s my main goal for 2013, but writing and taking photographs certainly isn’t a safe way to make a boatload of money. (A dinghyload, maybe?)

Here’s one reason: I needed a cure.

I reached a point in my life that made me stop, observe and notice a very important thing: Not writing makes me sick. Not photographing makes me sick. Not creating makes me sick.

Interestingly, and despite the perils of sickness, there’s still such a thing as writer’s block. My experiences with it influenced my decision more than you’d expect.

(…)

I know that some smart people don’t take writer’s block for granted. Seth Godin popularly compared it to talker’s block:

“No one ever gets talker’s block. No one wakes up in the morning, discovers he has nothing to say and sits quietly, for days or weeks, until the muse hits, until the moment is right, until all the craziness in his life has died down.”

Turning Seth’s argument around I’d say: Sure there’s talker’s block. No doubt about it. You’re suffering from it when you merely use language as a means to get through your day: “Good morning; Yes Sir!; I’d like fries with that.” You’re suffering from talker’s block when you’ve got nothing left to say because your world view, your beliefs and your emotions have been shaken by an experience that’s beyond your current filing capabilities. Death, grief, terror, paranoia, love, ecstasy, enlightenment, pronoia: All of these are classic ingredients for a well-pronounced talker’s block.

Not to mention the thorough existential boredom that has large parts of the Western world by its balls these days. Oh sure, we’re babbling all day long. We’re writing emails, sending text messages, chatting for hours on our cellphones. But do we actually have anything to say?

Remember your primary school teacher: “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” It’s the same line of thought that leads to writer’s block.

(Time to close a long parenthesis.)

The Worst Possible Reaction to Writer’s Block

So yes, there is such a thing as writer’s block: The creeping feeling that whatever it is that you’d like to say won’t really reach your audience, no matter the way you express it. Or, the more severe condition: Not having anything to say at all.

People who raise their eyebrows when they hear somebody complaining about writer’s block are right about one thing, though: The worst possible reaction to writer’s block is to stop writing. Seth Godin’s assessment: You can always write something. And he’s right, of course. But until we not only agree with him but really get it, some time can pass. It certainly did in my case. (Learn from my mistakes, if you may.)

Over some harsh time, I basically didn’t write at all. I’d prepare the occasional post for The Friendly Anarchist, but it was a slow and painful process. Nothing seemed good enough to me, nothing made my heart smile. The results most certainly reflected that. But I didn’t learn from that at first. I just kept drowning further, writing even less.

Poison

Have you read the novel Cloud Atlas? (Spoiler Alert! The movie will do, too.) Remember how notary Adam Ewing gets poisoned by his alleged friend Dr. Goose aboard the vessel to Hawaii? How he’s convinced he’s getting a cure when in reality he’s slowly killing himself by taking more and more of the poisonous “treatment” he decided to believe in?

This is exactly what happened to me: The more I distanced myself from writing (in order to get my head clear), the worse I got. And just as the novel character, I was convinced that I’d have to get worse first in order to get better later. Turns out that was a bullshit believe.

The less I wrote, the harder it seemed to start again. The less I wrote, the less did I believe I’d have something to say. The less I wrote, the more senseless the whole idea of writing appeared to me.

Thankfully, just as Ewing got saved by a real friend, the liberated slave Autua, I got saved by either a stroke of luck, time or coincidence. Or maybe it was a Muse, the marvelous and powerful Goddess of the Lost Writer. Whatever the case, at some point I noticed that whenever I actually wrote something I felt better. Often, I’d get bitten by the writing bug. Even when it wasn’t aimed for publication, the mere act of putting words onto paper (or the screen) made me happy. And inventive. As I wrote, new ideas lit up, new connections were being made. Almost magically.

This was the moment when I started to write regularly again. Mostly for myself, at first, but I wrote nonetheless. I made it a regular practice once more, and I made sure to make time for that practice on every single day.

The Joys of Habitual Drug Use

The power of habit itself is neutral and can be both helpful or destructive. While my personal experience with bad habits is probably bigger, good habits are, without doubt, insanely useful. They help us navigate the complicated times in our lives and they reinforce positive behavior. (No matter what we understand by that.)

Over a couple of weeks, I probably wrote a whole novel of reflections and thoughts. As it turns out, some of these reflections and thoughts weren’t completely stupid, so I could turn them into post ideas and chapters for my next book. And the more I wrote, the better I felt about it: Writing was becoming my daily drug once again. A laptop and a text editor make the perfect addiction. ((This is probably a blogger thing: We get addicted. Unfortunately, many of us become addicted to money. Those of us normally become boring rather quickly. Others become addicted to writing, though. Addicted to telling stories. Those, they are pretty interesting. Check out people like David Cain, Patrick Rhone and Chase Night.))

The Transition

So is that all? Writing feels good, I’m addicted, I needed a cure – and therefore I write?

Not really. I’ve written two books already. I even sold them (thanks to all of you who supported me!). But there’s something deeper behind it all: I’m a curious person. To some degree, all the writing and thinking and photographing and philosophizing is just an excuse to go out there and learn stuff. To experience new things, visit new places, meet new people, make up new thoughts.

In the words of Buster Benson:

“You can’t express until you’ve explored. The best way to explore is to begin expressing.”

Writing and all kinds of exploration reinforce each other. In his post, Buster notes that introspection, exploration, goal-setting, strategizing, experimentation and “finding fit” all are different modes of work, ultimately leading to “executing”, generating output for others to see. It’s a connection that got clearer and clearer to me in recent months.

My question is: Where can I take it?

I never aimed at building a huge audience. I prefer my niche and feel blessed by the privilege of knowing many of you through personal email and even meet-ups.

I’m curious to see what happens once I take it all a bit more seriously, though. More dedicated. With more time and more focus. Once I integrate all these different modes of work more consciously. And my main question is if there’s a way to make writing a “job” while still living an interesting life.

Could that possibly work out? We’ll see later. But the game is on in 2013. As quoted at the top of this post: “Nothing is as empowering as real-world validation, even if it’s for failure.”

Sure, there are many distractions. Many things to take care of. The desire to wait for ideal conditions.

But at some point, maybe all you need is to jump right in and see what happens.

The transition is only just beginning.

Next up in The Transition series: The Money Question.
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