Truth:

Most people will walk this earth for decades, feeling guilty for not pursuing the great adventures inside of them, but will never do anything about it.

Truth:

Most people are overwhelmed by fear, and will make some of the worst choices of their lives because of it.  Greatness evolves from trust–in yourself, in your ideas, and in your ability to know, deep down, what’s best for YOU.  We must not betray that trust, because the moment we do, we betray our own potential.

Truth:

Most people will do exactly as they are told to do, won’t ever question the rules, and will believe that by doing so, they’ll get farther in life.  While this may have once been the case, in a time when assembly lines were hip, the exact opposite is true now. In the age of technology, success awaits only those who are willing to break the rules, stand out from the crowd, and be daringly, unflinchingly, unapologetically DIFFERENT.

Truth:

Most people believe that there is more safety & security in a 9-5 than there is in being an entrepreneur.  Though, more and more it becomes glaringly obvious that relying on only one sole source of income is a big (and irrational) risk. Furthermore, by building your work around yourself & creating new business opportunities, rather than building yourself around your work & having to adapt to already available business opportunities, your measures of success go far beyond money. And this is always, always, ALWAYS a good thing.

Truth:

Most people leave the quality of their lives up to luck & happenstance, and believe, somewhere deep down, that eventually they’ll be rescued by someone or something.  As much as I love a pristine white horse as much as the next guy, it’s crucial to remember that you’ve got to be the hero in your own story.  The damsel-in-distress role is the coward’s way of living life.

Truth:

Most people want more from life–more fulfillment, more excitement, more pleasure, more peace, more self-assurance, more satisfaction, more happiness, and way more juicy stories to tell–but they’ll never get it because they let the lack of immediate know-how become an (unnecessary) obstacle.

Truth:

Most people will never actually live–they’ll just think they did.

Take Away:

If you want to do meaningful, rich, brilliant things in life–if you demand more from life than an average, humdrum existence–you cannot be most people.

There IS another way.

More is possible.

You’ve simply got to want it bad enough–bad enough that the pain of NOT moving forward is greater than the pain of taking action.  Then you have no choice but to rally every single cell of your body, mind, heart & soul to go forth and fight for it–honorably, and with conviction.  And then make it yours.

You Don’t Need a Job

Many of you are reading this, likely because you’re dissatisfied with your life.  (Been there.)

Maybe you long to escape the cubicle nation.  Maybe you want to travel the world.  Maybe you want to live authentically & do meaningful work that you’re passionate about.  Maybe you want to do all of the above.  Or maybe you just want to ride alpacas & drink homemade beer all day.

The point is that you AREN’T.  (Yet.)

….

But you CAN be.  (Soon.)

Most of the time, the reason you aren’t falls into one of the categories described above–common traps that most people fall into, preventing them from taking control of their own lives, and let their lives control them.

It’s a deadly combination mostly comprised of: lack of know-how + lack of confidence.

And that’s exactly why I started The Middle Finger Project, exactly one year ago today:  To provide you with the know-how, and to provide you with the confidence, so that you can rock the hell out of your life, & love. every. single. second. of. it.

The Middle Finger Project was created with everything I’ve got in order to help you break free of your own self-imposed limitations, to help you gather the courage necessary to take big leaps, to help you start believing in the power of meaningful, passion-driven work, to help break down false assumptions regarding work & life, and, ultimately, to help you build a life that you’re damn proud to call your own.

Over the past year, I’ve worked hard to present the right frame of mind, revving you up & helping you to see life from a new, more self-loving perspective–one that will pave the mental path that you need to push past societal expectations & think in more unconventional terms in order to be in a position to do remarkable things.

I’ve pored over my keyboard, communicating my deepest & most sincere belief that LIFE IS MEANT TO BE PLEASURABLE–not merely tolerable. I’ve put painstaking effort into helping you realize the value of every single precious moment, and the true fleeting nature of time.

I’ve tenderly put forth this website, my thoughts & the contributions of others to serve as a pillar of support for your journey–and to stand guard against your most penetrating fears, your deepest doubts and your most deep-seated apprehensions.

And by golly, we done good, guys.

But one thing that I haven’t done–yet–is provide you with a more tangible, actionable means of accomplishing your goals.

Most of you are on board with the whole I-realize-I-don’t-have-to-suffer-doing-meaningless-crap-I-don’t-enjoy-just-for-a-paycheck’s-sake, but now you need to know exactly what the next step is.

When you’re first starting out on any new journey–whether it’s entrepreneurial or not–you just want someone to tell you what the **** to do.

We all do.

So, I’m going to do just that.

Allow me to introduce my latest project:

The world’s sassiest, most fearless, most upfront, raw, honest, no holds barred eBook á la magnificent…

…that is so righteously good, so devilishly unconventional, so steamingly revelational, and so immeasurably powerful…

…in terms of the changes that YOU + THIS KNOWLEDGE can make in the world…and in your life.

You Don’t Need A Job, You Need Guts:
Combining Passion + Self  + Business
Through Digital Entrepreneurship

This femme fatale of a book will:

1. Nudge you forward (though not very gently, I’m afraid), from your current life, to a life you’ll be wild for, doing passionate + meaningful work (independent of location, if you wish) that lets you embrace every part of you, and go forth into the world, and embrace every part of it.

2. Help you clearly define + envision exactly what your ideal life looks like (you can’t hit a target that doesn’t exist, sugar).

3. Guide you step-by-step (no vague, glossing over ANYTHING, folks) through what it takes to make that life a reality, by leveraging the number one most undervalued, underappreciated, and under-used tool:  YOU.  Once we get all the glory that is you squared away, we’ll look at how you + your passion + demand + business + laptop can equal blissful digital entrepreneurship + money + a kingdom like no other ever on the planet.

4. Most importantly, You Don’t Need a Job will encourage you to think in ways that you never have, about what things are possible when it comes to life & work, and will take you by the hand and show you precisely how to leverage your own innate strengths to create the business & lifestyle that’s right for you.

In other words, it’s life on your terms.
(And business on your terms.)

It’s a life you feel good about.
(And a business you feel good about.)

It’s a life you want to have.
(And a business you want to have.)

And it’s a life you love.
(And a business you love, too.)

And it will change everything.

Why This Sexy Little Number is Worth Your Time:

You’re intelligent.

You’re ambitious.

And you want more from life.

Period.

Why This Sexy Little Number is Worth My Time:

I get to do red hot, riveting work that I love

Knowledge + sharing is the blueprint for all great movements

The quality of our lives depends on it

You Dig?

$40

Click here to view the Table of Contents

Click here to watch a fun video interview of me discussing the book.

Want to Help Spread the Word? (Because You Heart the Project & You Want to Make Money, Too)

Sign up to become an affiliate!

One Last Thing

I’ve started a fund.

(Yes, a fund!  Minus all of the lame banking attitude, of course.)

5% of all eBook sales will be donated toward a special TMFproject fund–not to benefit a big-name organization–but for YOU.  For us. For the dreamers in hiding.  The dreamers desperate to breathe.  Desperate to feel.  Desperate to live.  And desperate to come alive.  

And for the sanity of this world.

It’s tentatively called The Freedom Fund (if you have gutsy name suggestions, bring it), and it’s designed to benefit aspiring digital entrepreneurs who are struggling financially to get on their feet & make their dreams/goals/aspirations/ass-kicking projects a reality at the same time.

Maybe it’s a website design.

Maybe it’s a new laptop.

Perhaps it’s business consulting.

Or maybe just a babysitter for a quiet reprieve & some creative time.

Hell, maybe the damn water bill just needs to be paid.

-

Sometimes, we just need someone to cut us a break.

-

Sometimes, having someone who believes in us & who imparts just a small glimmer of self-confidence, is all it takes for us to go out & set the universe on fire.

-

And sometimes–sometimes–there will be girls with vulgarly-titled websites and heartfuls of hope, who simply just want to be the change they wish to see in the world.

_

Q:  Who’s Your Daddy?

A:  Novelty

In the last year, two of the countries I’ve lived in are Chile & Costa Rica.  In both places, I did a number of things, kissed met a number of people, and learned a number of lessons.

Many people advocate the value of travel–that’s nothing new–but what they’re really advocating is the value of experiences.

Experiences yield so much more than an adrenaline rush; they exercise our souls, rejuvenate our minds, refine our perspectives, provide us with lifelong memories and, most of all, make us come alive.  (Possibly assisted by Jose Cuervo, but no bold claims.)

Travel fosters new experiences.  New experiences are, by default, novel.  Novelty forces us to think critically and be present in the moment.  This is why travel is such a valuable tool in terms of personal growth.

When we’re at home, it’s remarkably easy to get stuck in a rut.  We rely on our routines to carry us through our weeks, which turn into months, which turn into years.  And while routines can be comfortable, they can also be really stifling–without us even realizing it.

Today, I want to share some of the experiences I’ve had over the past year that have kept me sane.  I encourage you to run, faster than ever, toward your own.  If nothing else, you’ll at least have one or two damn good stories to tell.  (But hide the photos.  By all means, hide the photos!)

Costa Rica, Land Where Happiness is Contagious–Possibly The Result of an Unnamed, Unknown Shot Administered to the Glutes When Developing Signs of the Common Cold.  Or Not.  But I Really Wanted to Mention It.

Did unspeakable things on top of a waterfall.  Had a healer perform a ritual on my forearm to rid me of a stomach virus.  Determined that hips not only come in all different shapes & sizes…but also range of motion.  Ran hand-in-hand with a cute German boy into the ocean at night with all of our clothes on & not a care in the world.  Just because.

Had my purse stolen.  Twice.  Watched a mother & baby whale hovering off the coastline as I sipped a caipirinha at sunset.  Learned that raw fish tastes better than cooked fish, and that butter is what you put on top of saltines.  Made peace with bugs, but mastered the art of killing cockroaches when duty called– a particularly tricky task when one’s pants are around one’s ankles in the bathroom.

Experienced a 6.8 earthquake (which was far better than being bombed, since I didn’t know the word for “earthquake,” and thought that’s what was happening at the time).  Made the acquaintance of a porn director, a Swedish prostitute & Matthew McConaughey.  Discerned the value of patience while standing in long lines, as well as the value of using the ladies’ room beforehand.  Watched barefoot children play soccer in the streets with empty soda bottles, and saw their unabashed excitement the next day when I returned with an armful of balls.

Experimented with foreign sounds coming out of my mouth, and giggled when they didn’t quite make it.  Felt the wind in my hair atop jet skis, 4-wheelers, scooters, deep-sea fishing boats & bicycles, and the sun on my skin as I rafted down rivers, ziplined my way through rainforests, kayaked my way through mangroves and hiked my way up mountains.

But Most Importantly…

Learned that people and what they do for a living are mutually exclusive.  Found out what it means to be madly, passionate, uncontrollably in love.  Found out what it means to be profoundly, devastatingly, soul-crushingly hurt.  Discovered that politically drawn lines separate countries, not humanity.  Unearthed universal truths about the world, but at the same time, uncovered even more particular truths about myself.  Understood what it finally meant to feel alive.  And last but not least, gained knowledge that in some places, short shorts really can be practical.

Chile, Land of Ridiculous-Looking Pants & Guards That Look Like the Guards at Buckingham Palace, but Aren’t.

Witnessed a man without legs heave himself down the aisle of a public bus with his elbows.  Participated in a student-run, alcohol-fueled, end-of-year celebratory party inside the walls of Santiago’s most prestigious university.  Wistfully admired the immense majesty of snow-capped Andes mountains from the other side of the glass in my bedroom.  Climbed a portion of the Andes mountains with newfound Brazilian friends, then later celebrated the glory of the vineyards of their valleys.

Taught smart, driven college students the right way to pronounce the “sh” sound in English, and they taught me what it means not to have opportunity handed to you on a silver platter.  Was flown to Patagonia in order to impart valuable knowledge to high school students, but it was those high school students who showed me that innocence is sometimes the most valuable quality of all.

Rode llamas in the city, took cable cars up mountainsides, and relished every single bus ride across town.  Ate a seafood delicacy known as locos that is apparently only available off the coast of Chile (still haven’t found the English equivalent), delighted in the tradition of warming red wine on the grill, and witnessed the power of food in connecting strangers.  Covered myself with no less than four comforters each night at my host family’s house, and felt what it was like to truly be cold, but at the same time, through their kind compassion, felt what it was like to truly be warmed.

But Most Importantly…

I learned that “friends” is a mere synonym for “family“–even when you don’t share a common tongue.  But most of all, I learned that sometimes, friends are the best form of faith.  I discovered the importance of laughing, dancing and blaring the radio with the windows down.  I determined that through the hardest of human hardships, hope & kindness prevail, yet through the cushiest of human conditions, greed & hostility are more prevalent.  I discovered that stereotypes only stretch as far as we pull them, and differences only noticed as long as we watch them.  And last but not least, I learned that when all else fails, it’s never, ever a bad idea to go to the park and whisper sweet nothings into your lover’s ear.

Be glad that I’m not listing London, 2006 here, or you’d be hearing a lot more about sweet nothings & lovers.  Spanish ones, at that. Le sigh.

Surviving Versus Living – Not Even Your Mom Can Help You On This One

Nothing compares to experience.  Nothing you could buy.  Nothing you could sell.  Nothing you could find on eBay.  Nothing you could bust a rhyme about.  Nothing your mom could bake you in a bunt pan with ooey gooey chocolaty chips melted inside.  Not even anything that your Facebook farm with 700 bushels of freaking boysenberries can compare to.  (Shocker.)

New experiences are the only path from merely surviving to actually living.  And I’m pretty sure that if you don’t already have a down payment on your casket, you’re probably more interested in the latter.

Unless, of course, you have OCD, in which case you very well may already have your casket picked out.  (And you thought the Swedish prostitute had issues.)

If this topic interests you, you can grab a free copy of my report titled Living or Just Surviving?  A No-Bullshit Guide for Modern-Day Outlaws Who Want to Feel Alive Again.  It’s free–you just gotta throw in an email address down below, partner.  Then I’ll send you more free stuff later–maybe without foul language in the title.  But probably not.

LIVING OR JUST SURVIVING?
A No-Bullshit Guide
for the Modern Day
Outlaw

Want to feel
alive again?

GET THE FREE GUIDE

Name:

Email:

We respect your email privacy

Ride ‘em cowboy!

So, I may or may not have recruited a friend to write an article for The Middle Finger Project.  And her name may or may not be Katie.  And I may or may not have met her while wrangling the likes of five men at once in Chile.

Okay, so maybe it didn’t exactly happen like that.  But it should have.

Why did I ask her to write for TMFproject?  Because Katie is one of those people that I sit back and stare at in awe.  Not because she brings flowers to the house every time she visits (gentlemen, ahem, take note), or because she’s traveled far more than I have, or because she has this uncanny ability to seem so naturally at ease around strangers–even abnormally attractive ones–or because she (annoyingly) dances salsa like a sexy swan at first attempt.  I asked Katie to write for TMFproject because the girl has got game.  And by game, I don’t mean a head tilt/hair flip/seductive half smile/wink/reel-em-in combo (although, now that I think of it, she has that, too), I mean game as in the real deal game.  She’s smart.  Sassy.  Sophisticated.  Suave.  Katie knows how to make life work for her, not against her, as she travels the world, makes sense of her scientific communications degree (yes, there is such a thing), juggles suitors with all sorts of mysterious foreign accents, & spends her free time being wise enough to know when to soak up the moment, yet foolish enough to know when to let it carry her away…

For this I love her.

An Intro & Some Guy Named Curtis.  Captain Curtis, That Is.

Since you don’t know me, I’m going to tell you something about myself:  I never lost my childhood senses of adventure and imagination. In fact, they’ve gotten stronger as I’ve gotten older (…and wiser, yes, thank you for mentioning it!)

And even though we hardly know one another, I’m going to invite you to play my favorite game with me…..Pretend.

(Don’t worry, this ain’t no childish game a’ pretend!  But please do excuse the following Disney reference…)

…Hi-Ho-Hi-Ho it’s off to pretend-land we go…

Okay, you can go to as many countries as you want in one day. Any of them. All of them. Where would you go and what would you do?

Personally, I think I’d start in Ireland. Yes, please, Captain Curtis! Off we go! I want a traditional breakfast this morning. No better way to start the day than with a fried egg, rashers and sausages and blood pudding!

And uh, dare I be bold BUT is 6 a.m. too early for a pint of Guinness?

You’re right. I guess I should have juice.

In that case, I’ll have a pint of Bulmer’s Apple Cider!

(Oh goodness my taste buds are tingling!)

Where to next? I need some exercise after all that.

Captain Curtis, you’re a genius! A mountain range, you say?!  The Swiss Alps it is. Time for a hike!

Well, captain, since we’re close, why not head to Italy for lunch?

Please, bruschetta to start. And do I prefer pizza or pasta? Whatever your favorite dish is, Sergio. (AKA: my hunk-of-burning-love server whose deep brown eyes I’m honored to be staring endlessly and romantically looking into while I order.) ←Oh yes I did go there! Don’t tell me you weren’t dreaming of getting lost in the accent of a beautiful Italian as they took your order! Momma Mia! (Accent in full-blown effect, mind you.)

And, yes, I’d love a bottle of red. (Silly question!)

And when I’m finished with all that, could I please have a (bucket-sized) cappuccino? And a Cannoli?

(Okay. Now my taste buds ARE tingling…AND mingling!)

Oh, Sergio! What a great thought! Of course I’d love to have a language exchange. I’d love to learn some Italian and would be delighted to help you improve your English.

What’s that? You’d like to go for gelato now? Sì, per favore!  Che buon’idea!  Grazie!

Captain Curtis, you’re right, we need to leave. But where to for the evening? To Russia for the ballet, to Australia to see a Rugby match or back to Ireland for that Guinness and a traditional music and dance gig?

I know I want fresh Sushi smothered in caviar from the Philippines for dinner.  And a Bubble Tea!

But, Captain Curtis, the flight after will be a long one. Since today’s tomorrow on the other side of the world, we are SOOO dancing across the Americas!

First we’ll stop and warm up with some belly dancing in Turkey and some tribal dancing in Mozambique!

Then we’re off to dance the night away! The possibilities are endless!

Samba in Brazil!

Tango in Argentina! (And of course more wine!)

Cumbia in Colombia! (Tequila optional! Wimp!)

Bachata in the Dominican!

Reggaeton in Puerto Rico!

Oh my! WHAT A TRIP! Captain Curtis, thank you! And YOU, yes YOU my reader out there lost in the middle of this cyberspace pretend adventure, thanks for accompanying me!

Back To Reality

Okay, in reality, our trip has been too action-packed for one day, BUT, here’s my point:  All the cultural things I mentioned above are closer than you think. You don’t need an expensive plane ticket or a Captain Curtis to get you there. [Sidenote from Ash: Who is this mysterious Captain Curtis character?]  Hell, you don’t even need a passport.

Why?

Because we, in the USA, live in a melting pot.

Merriam-Webster’s defines the term “melting pot” as:  a place where a variety of races, cultures, or individuals assimilate into a cohesive whole; the population of such a place.

I define it as: all the world’s cultures hand delivered to you—and pretty dang close to your own backyard.

So tell me this, why haven’t you explored more of it? Why not make it a point to get out on the weekends and explore China Town or Little Italy? Are you afraid someone might step on and break your toe during salsa class? Or do you really hate subtitles that much that you can’t watch a French film? Or perhaps it’s because of a stereotype you’ve heard. Or a fear of exploring something new? Or maybe fear of language? Understandable, really. Just how do you communicate with that giant purple, headless monster with fourteen eyesballs that hails from all the way across the * GULP * Atlantic Ocean?!

Regardless of the excuse, here’s what I have to demand say to you:  GET OVER IT.  NOW!

Trust me, if you miss your friend’s status update on Facebook, he won’t hate you forever…but he might be jealous when he reads yours and sees what kind of amazing venture you’re taking.  And here’s a simple solution: Invite him, too!  And tell him to invite his friends so they’re not jealous of his status!  The more stereotypes we can break, and the more we can spread cultural understanding and acceptance, the better.

In this country, we are SO fortunate to have so much culture readily available to us.  What is unfortunate, however, is how little we take advantage of it.

Of course it is easier to ignore it (or, worse yet, * GASP * ignorantly and negatively judge it) than it is to enjoy it.  You’ll be amazed to see how many ‘foreign’ options you have available domestically.

Visit the closest city and see for yourself.  Heck, be brave.  Head to a city you’ve never seen. (But take a map. No, not because I think you’ll get lost, but so you can navigate easily and visit as many cultures as possible, silly!)  [Additional sidenote from Ash:  Is the culture otherwise known as "Sexy Mediterranean Men" labeled on this so-called map?  Someone get me a highlighter.]

Whatever you do, make every effort to step outside your (triple-safety-netted) comfort zone.  Actually, on second thought, don’t step outside it.

LEAP!  DIVE!  PLUNGE!

Get up!  Get out!  Get your cultural exploration on!

What are you waiting for…another invitation from me…like one for a real life adventure?!  VAMOS, AMIGOS!

…Where are we going to go?  What are we going to do?  Who else are you taking?

And now that you’re thinking…admit it…the possibilities for experiencing foreign cultures in your own city are endless and pretty friggin’ awesome, aren’t they?!!

Do it, just do it..do it, do it, do it.  And yes, I think that pretty much sums up what I wanted to include here.  Does anyone have any good suggestions for unique cross-cultural activities that we can–as Katie put it–leap, dive and plunge into?  (I beg you–anything but the pig!)  What about you folks currently abroad?  Are there any unique ideas/ways of life/foods/traditions, etc. that you’d like to share?

P.S.  Thanks, Katie.  And an even bigger thanks for hostels.  In Chile.  Where you meet people like this chick.  Even if she does dance better than me.

P.P.S.  Katie does not have a blog.  Nor Twitter.  So I’m hogging her all to myself.  Deal with it.

I am in hot, humid, sweaty-in-all-the-wrong-places Central America, and I am invited to a Christmas party.  Eager to experience the holiday through a shiny new cultural lens, my mistletoe and I happily accept.   In the name of cross-cultural exchange, I carry an innocent little twig of mistletoe, in hopes it will aid my mission to gather a more intimate knowledge of the culture, if you know what I mean.  Wink-wink-elbow jab.

The taxi drops me off at the address.   It’s dark.   It’s muddy.  I’m wearing red heels.  I can envision it now:

Perfect little tan bodied, long-haired, hoop earring donning Latina female number one: Who brought the idiot who can’t even walk like a proper woman in tacones?

Perfect little tan bodied, long-haired, hoop earring donning Latina female number two: Pshhh, who cares.  She’s a gringa–what do you expect?

As I not-so-gracefully tip-toe my way around the emerging pieces of rock that play a cruel game of peek-a-boo with me and the dry, hard earth, threatening to make a fool out of me with just one wrong step, I reprimand myself for not just surrendering to flats and settling for stumpy.  But what latin lover is going to want to whisk the stumpy, sweaty girl off her feet?  None.  Especially a stumpy, sweaty girl that, for reasons unknown, is dangling a strange, berry-laden plant above her head.

My schizophrenic thought-process is immediately put on hold in response to a disturbingly sudden, high-pitched shrill that echoes throughout the air.

As I approach the house, I hear it again, but this time much louder.  And again.  And once again.

As I make my grand entrance into the door of the tin-roofed home–a bit nervous, knowing I will be a stranger in the room–I am greeted not with the warm welcome I was optimistically envisioning, but rather, by an unexpected, alarming scene of sorts that instantaneously sends a wave of nausea rushing through me.

The image is just as horrifying as the sound:  A massive pig, larger than most of the humans that surround it, is being violently chased in circles around the backyard.  There are five males, each armed with what appears to be an oversized mallet, scrambling around the yard, determined to deliver a mighty blow to the panic-stricken pig atop its head to render it unconscious, at which point its throat will be pierced with the large machete that dutifully hangs from the wall.

I quickly ascertain that heels were most definitely an inappropriate selection of footwear for this party.

Well, That’s Awkward

I am horrified.  I have no idea what to say, do or even feel, and can’t bear to watch as they silence the pig’s last desperate squeal, and collectively heave it onto a large wooden chopping block to saw off its head.

As the rest of the attendees take delight in gathering around the cauldron-like wok they have suspended over a fire with the help of three heavy-duty chains, patiently awaiting sliced pieces of pig fat to be fried and served, I, on the other hand, sit on an opposite side of the yard, quietly sipping my lager and contemplating, philosophizing, mourning.

Witnessing this event was a great mental exercise for me, and one that boldly challenged my perception of reality, ostentatiously mocking it with its unabashed display of complete and utter opposition to my ingrained cultural norms, which was, by extension, opposition to everything I had previously known to be true.

I fling the mistletoe to the ground.  There will be no stolen kisses tonight.

Words such as PETA, animal cruelty, and inhumane come to mind, as I question the ethics–or, perhaps, lack of ethics–of the human race.  But then, I’m suddenly also forced to question myself.  My automatic reaction is to be appalled, and to proclaim such an act as loathsome, detestable and just plain cold-blooded.

But then, I think, is it actually?

I remind myself that we, too, kill thousands and thousands of pigs each year for consumption, and, according to some recent documentaries, we aren’t as “humane” in our practices as we might like to think.

That said, I question why it doesn’t bother me if I don’t have to witness it with my own eyes.

Worth Contemplating, But Not My Point

I don’t intend for this to be a statement of my position on the integrity of eating meat, because, frankly, I don’t have one.  I am from Scranton, Pennsylvania.  There’s no question that I like meat.  Right now, it’s not about that; it’s about the far broader message that can be extrapolated here.

No matter how you dice it, the simple fact is that it’s unfair for me to judge, because I’m judging based on a different set of rules.   A set of rules that we’ve internalized and perpetuated among ourselves as truth, when, in reality, it’s not truth–it’s purely our perception of truth. Relative to this example, it’s our perception of how we view right and wrong.  And this, to me, was wrong.  But I’ll tell you what–to the people at the party, there was nothing wrong about it.   Their truth is that the merits of to-kill-a-pig-or-not-to-kill-a-pig just isn’t a debate that exists.  On the other hand, what does exist is the need to eat, and, frankly, it’s a luxury to have meat at all.  No one is disturbed.  No one is shuddering.   Instead, they are rejoicing.  They are grateful to be fortunate enough to even have the opportunity to kill a pig.

There are some obvious implications that should come as no surprise, namely that, as I’ve stated before, reality is subjective.  But it goes beyond that, and makes another, perhaps less salient point:

Subjectivity implies choice.

You have two choices:  Allow society at large to define your perspectives on your behalf, or define your perspectives for yourself.

What do you really think?  What do you really believe?  … Do you even know?

There is no inherent benefit in accepting the perspectives that society arbitrarily determines for us–whether it’s right versus wrong or any other myriad of possibilities.  There is a perceived benefit, though, and it goes by the name of fitting in.  But, in my view, that’s far from beneficial; quite the opposite, actually.  On the other hand, when you’re capable enough to cut through the noise and learn how to think independently of the group, that’s where the real benefits lie.

Am I saying that I’ve shed my deeply ingrained culturally-based thought patterns overnight, and am a newly converted, red heel wearing pig butcher, in the name of independent thought?  No, certainly not.

But am I open to the possibility that this isn’t as loathsome, detestable and cold-blooded as I was originally inclined to think?

Yes.

If there are currently 7 billion people (that’s 7,000,000,000, in case you need all of those fancy zeros to conceptualize just how many people that truly is) on this planet, and all of us have different perceptions of what’s right or what’s wrong, or whether or not red heels do anything at all to detract from stumpy sweatiness, then it would be preposterously arrogant of me to assert my own perception of right or wrong as truth.  Extended beyond pig killings, if we can learn to apply a similar thought process to other traditionally rigid ideas, such as religion, marriage or even what constitutes success, who knows?  We might just do alright for ourselves, after all.  Not to mention a possible diminishing of supremacism, americentrism, racism, and a host of other ugly -isms and the unflattering baggage that comes with it.

It all starts with the pig, I say.

And with that, I take all of my assumptions, and throw them haphazardly to the wind.

I am left with only two questions:

1)  Where can I find some more mistletoe?
2)  Who’s your daddy now, life?

A Tale of Dirt Roads & Deodorant,

AKA My Pocahontas Moment

I bob up and down in my seat, occasionally clanging the side of my head abruptly against the window pane–clearly a form of revenge on mankind for having long ago forgotten the rocky, untamed, desolate road. My skin sticks to the tattered brown faux leather bench seat, and a continual stream of sweat faithfully travels down the back of my neck.  Thankfully for the other passengers’ sake, I am armed with a solid supply of Old Spice deodorant for men–the only product man enough to step up to these overactive sweat glands.  Coupled with 100 degree heat, I can make for a real treat.

I am en route to Dominical, a small, undeveloped beach town that lies quietly on the south central coast of the pacific side of Costa Rica. Vibrant green foliage surrounds the bus from every angle, and whimsical jungle vines that nonchalantly dangle from the tallest tree branches have the effect of making me feel ever-so-slightly like a modern-day Pocahontas, on a bad hair day.

The air that I take in with every breath is so pure, so clean, and the calm silence so refreshing, at one point I question the feasibility of setting up shop right there, followed by thoughts of whether or not people can actually start fires by rubbing two sticks together.

And then, as we approach a clearing, I see them.  There are several of them, and they look normal enough.  I can’t believe my eyes.  Human.  Beings. They are gathered together in a circle of wooden rocking chairs, one adolescent-looking girl bouncing a baby on her lap, all of them barefoot.  They seem to have a distant, vacant look in their eyes as they emotionlessly watch our bus pass on.  A few short meters up the road, we come upon the village’s church, a brightly painted rectangular building that resembles that of a one-room school house, followed by a similarly-sized school and a handful of small, tin-roofed homes.  My first thought is to question where these people derive an income, as there are no visible commercial properties in sight, but beyond all of the other technical questions one could ask, like what happens when emergency medical attention is needed or, equally curious, where one goes to meet cute boys, the one that lingers in my mind is whether or not they are lonely. Would I be lonely?

I stare out the window for a long time, contemplating such an existence, before a small smile spreads across my lips, taking the place of my furrowed brow and look of worry.  It occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, they are the ones who have this whole life thing figured out.  They are, in essence, the ultimate minimalists, who have the luxury of being at liberty to simply live life, instead of feeling the unrelenting pressure to make life into some great event. They may not have laptops, or flat screen TVs, Blackberries or Guitar Hero, yet ironically, I get the feeling that they have something that the rest of us can only long for.

There’s No Such Thing As a Universal Truth,

AKA My Philosopher Moment

It serves to remind me that the world in which we were born into is only one model of reality. “Life” cannot be universally defined in terms of an ultimate ideal, because what’s ideal for you may not be what’s ideal for another, and I think that’s the important lesson here.  For too long, our society has forced a predefined concept of what our ideal lives should look like–education, “good” job, save money, find mate, buy house, spend first year of marriage together, get busy with kids thereafter, go on vacation once per year and then wait until your kids are old enough to make you grandparents, then write your will, then die.  People often say that life doesn’t come with a manual, but in all actuality, it does. There you have it, the steps to being a “successful” American adult.

But what if there’s more out there?  What if there are other things you can do?  What if you would more enjoy doing other things?  Should you be able to explore those options, or are you obligated to follow the manual?  Is it possible that there are other manuals out there that make more sense to you?

What constitutes “life” and “living” are relative truths, not absolute ones. Other well-known examples of relative truths that are commonly mistaken for absolute truths include: religion, marriage as an ideal and higher education as the path to success.

Absolute truths are a cruel, cruel joke.

Absolute, by nature, is inflexible, unchanging, unyielding, hard, cold, a little cranky, and, frankly, arrogant. By believing in absolute truths, we become inflexible, unchanging, unyielding, hard, cold, a little cranky, and, frankly, arrogant.  And so do our perspectives.  Ouch.   Kind of reminds me of the old slavery mentality that black people aren’t as intelligent as white people.  Antiquated.  Downright false.  And just flat out ridiculous.  But there was a period in which many people held this as truth.  Nowadays, we’d just call those people ignorant.

I believe that the greatest form of repression is the belief in an absolute truth, and subsequently using that one representation to form core beliefs, values and perspectives that ultimately serve to guide YOUR ENTIRE LIFE.

Travel Helps The Life Design Process,

AKA  My Preacher Moment

There are many, many different realities that exist, and other ways of life aren’t failed attempts at being you; they are other human beings being them. Your way is not necessarily the way.  It might be one way, but by exposing yourself to only one, you’re severely limiting yourself.  And that, friends, is why I advocate for travel so much.  Don’t get me wrong: I’ve said it before through my Operation: Get Excited initiative, as has Andrew MacPherson in his recent guest post–travel is not necessary to lead an exciting, awe-inspired life.  That said, I do believe that travel can bring a great deal of clarity that can significantly help in that journey.  Travel helps you break free from your pre-set settings, as a function of your culture, and allow you to form a more objective view of life in general, and more importantly, that of your own.  The phrase “reality check” has never been more relevant.

By being exposed to the realities of our fellow human beings with whom we share this great planet, we are engaging ourselves in some hardcore lifestyle design, because we open ourselves to other ways of doing things, other perspectives, other beliefs, other existences, other foods, other experiences, other forms of dress, other forms of LIFE. From there, we are better enabled to selectively pick and choose aspects we like, discard the ones we don’t, and essentially engage in the highest form of lifestyle design based on a much wider knowledge of options.

So here’s to the villages of the world, the people of the world, and the lessons that await us all as we form our own versions of reality.

“The people who say you are not facing reality actually mean that you are not facing their idea of reality. Reality is above all else a variable. With a firm enough commitment, you can sometimes create a reality which did not exist before.”

MARGARET HALSEY, No Laughing Matter