That Pit in Your Gut

I've been restless for a long time. Years. Decades. When I was in college, I was busy, sure, but there was ample time to wonder. I wondered where I'd live after college. I wonder what I'd do.

I have a very clear memory, from sometime near the end of my Freshman year. I was reading the UMass course catalog for the next semester. UMass - Amherst is a large school. The course catalog is at least as thick as the New Haven phone book. As I turned from one section to the next, I genuinely had a hard time finding five courses that I thought I'd be sufficiently interested in to commit to a semester long class.  In the 20 plus years since, I've had that same feeling many times.

'They' say that when you feel something in the pit of your stomach or deep in your gut that you should go with it. 'They' say to follow your instincts. 'They' say to trust your intuition. And 'they' also say to do what you love. We all know that's easier said than done. Or is it? I am about to find out.

It's been an interesting time here on the Massachusetts North Shore. Linda, my wife, and I moved to Beverly, Massachusetts shortly after we got married in 2004. For a couple of years I was a partner with my friend, Kevin Burke, at burke + design. I then returned to EF Education for a couple of years. Toward the spring of 2008, it became clear that if I was to stay at EF, I'd have to take on a role that would require working many late nights, assuming a lot of responsibility (with accompanying pressures), and managing a sizable, and likely miserable, staff. I'd also have to commute about 2 hours each day, leaving the waking hours with my son, Max, to less than 1 in the morning and probably none at night.  My gut told me this wasn't what I wanted.  Linda, ever my chief supporter in our quest for mutual happiness, agreed.

For me the value proposition wasn't one I could see, accept, or compromise on. With no prospects I exited stage left and was unemployed for several months. I was holding out for something that better approximated my personal (if yet inchoate) value system. In June 2008 I accepted a position at Digital Bungalow in Salem. I could literally walk there from my house in less than five minutes. It was, for a time, perfect. I made a lot less money (35% less!), but I left the house close to 9am and was home close to 530 or 6 almost every day. What ever could I complain about?

Well, it turns out, I didn't like the job much. Couldn't I figure out a way to make it work out? Apparently not. By December, I was out of Digital Bungalow, and though the economy was crumbling, and prospects weren't bright, I felt a certain, well, relief upon leaving.  The pit in my gut was dissipating.  I was able to feel this way for several reasons:

1. Linda was working (and is highly employable as a physical therapist).
2. I had not compromised. I was not happy in that job and I felt life is simply too short to be unhappy in your work for too long. (Witness my resume.)
3. I got to spend more time with Linda and Max.
4. For a time, our finances were stable and we had cash reserves to stake us.

I knew that at some point something would have to give, but until then there wasn't a compelling enough reason to alter our strategy; we were going to formulate a new life plan.  This plan would take into account the value we place on our free time, the benefits of living a simpler life, a truer appreciation for things that really matter to us in life, and a commitment to each other that we'd seek happiness not in the ephemeral trinkets of the free market (though there are many), but in the richness of the present moment.  This is not easy to keep in the fore, not when there are sales of HDTVs, shiny iPhones,  and deliciously caloric food smells wafting from the downtown Salem restaurants.   And especially not when you have mortgage bills piling up.

[About to channel Andy Rooney.] I tend to think a lot about how we are marketed to and, for the most part, I don't like it.  I don't like how ads (necessarily?) make us feel like we don't have enough, or that we don't look like we should, or that if we don't buy now, we're idiots.  I don't like being guilted or shamed into making a purchase.  I am pretty sure that Kay Jewelers doesn't really know what would make MY wife happy.  And I am 100% certain that the vast majority of those marketers have their items on the priority list listed higher than mine.  I actually derive a fulfilling pleasure in NOT buying things, in remaining strong in the face of the constant assault of commercials on TV, Radio, and the Internet (not to mention billboards, flyers, gorilla marketing, networking, etc., etc.).  I am not completely naïve.  I know that this is a necessary part of the free market in which we live, but I like to focus on the 'free.' part - that is to say, I am free to feel good about not participating unless I consciously and purposely decide to do so.  This can, at times, make me a stick in the mud.[/Andy Rooney]

Before I lose you completely, let's just sum up a few ideas that we can pick up again in future writings.  The pit in your stomach IS telling you something.  You do have the power to make tomorrow different than today.  It's not easy.


This post is more of a diatribe than I'd like and there is much lighter fare in upcoming posts.  So for now, give it some thought and check back soon.


Stay tuned.


p.s. Today's pictures were taken by Linda this morning as I set off for a run in what I call my freaky feet - www.vibramfivefingers.com