“Being in the wild gathers me. It astonishes me. It quiets the negative voices inside of me and allows the more constructive ones to talk. It humbles me. It reminds me of how small I am, which has the reverse effect of making me feel gigantic inside.”
—Cheryl Strayed, author of Torch, Wild, and Tiny Beautiful Things, two books I highly recommend.
Please take a little hike with me as I explain, in my words, why we hike:
About a month ago, our 5-year-old son, Fin, asked me: “When a man is old, is that his last age?”
His question was so profound I didn’t immediately know how to answer it.
Of course all of our lives are of different lengths. Unfortunately, I’ve lost friends and loved ones of all ages.
Howdy.
I love books. I read and read and read. Lately, my favorite author is Cheryl Strayed, author of one of my now-all-time favorite books, Wild. Strayed is a wonderful writer, and I feel a kinship to her when reading her words and experiences.
Recently, I finished (more like devoured!) her latest book, Tiny Beautiful Things. In a chapter called “The Obliterated Place,” a 58-year-old man writes to Strayed (“Sugar”) about the loss of his 22-year-old son, his only child, who was killed four years earlier by a drunk driver. He asks how to go on, and how to be human again.
In her response to the man, Strayed (“Sugar”) mentions a remark her own young son made that is, coincidentally, similar to the aforementioned question Fin asked me. (“We don’t know how many years we have for our lives…”)
Strayed, when she was just 22, lost her mother. She writes how deeply sorry she is for the man’s loss, and among other things, writes: “It has been healing to me to accept in a very simple way that my mother’s life was forty-five years long, that there was nothing beyond that. There was only my expectation that there would be — my mother at eighty-nine, my mother at sixty-three, my mother at forty-six. Those things don’t exist. They never did.”
“Sugar” continues by encouraging the man to think: “My son’s life was twenty-two years long… There is no twenty-three.”
The words and sharing, both the man’s letter, and Strayed’s (Sugar’s) response, are poignant. Reading it broke me open, and has caused me to think, often, of Strayed’s wisdom reminding us that any thought we have about the length of our lives is an expectation, not a certainty.
So, to the point of this blog post… Imagine, for a moment, that your life has only one more year in it.
What changes would you make? Who would you choose to experience your time with? How would you be? What would you say?
A busy life describes a life that feels as if our life is at or over capacity. When we’re busy, we are often overwhelmed and over-scheduled. It doesn’t feel like we own our time. Our days are full of things we “have” to do. We feel like a victim of our circumstances.
Hi there.
A full life is rich. It may or may not be “full,” but it feels full. It is a fulfilling life, one in which we choose many of the things that are in it.
A busy life is a life where we spend our time.
A full life — our epic life — is a life where we experience, or invest, our time.
I think this is a good challenge — to create, and live, a full life rather than a busy life. I am glad we are at choice and have the power to say yes, and to say no, and to create boundaries.
These abilities are necessary when it comes to creating our best life. After all, we cannot “get back” time that has passed.
Today, as you do things, and time passes, check in with yourself by asking, “Am I spending this time, experiencing this time, or investing this time?”
A book that I revisit often is Seneca’s On The Shortness of Life. Seneca writes: “It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it. Life is long enough, and a sufficiently generous amount has been given to us for the highest achievements if it were all well invested. But when it is wasted in heedless luxury and spent on no good activity, we are forced at last by death’s final constraint to realize that it has passed away before we knew it was passing. So it is: we are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it… Life is long if you know how to use it.
One strategy I try hard not just to say to myself several times throughout each day but to actually try to believe is “I will live today as if I will die tomorrow.” As long you’re serious about the intention, it is a sound strategy for not wasting time, and for being more present.
I have clients — and friends — who often are overextended. They find it difficult to say no. I’m no different. I also have this problem.
Most of the time we find ourselves overextended and saying yes too often because others need us, or can benefit by what we have to contribute so we say yes so we can be of assistance, or to avoid the guilt we conjure up if we were to say no. We’re “pulled” into things by our desire to help and to make a difference in some way.
Eventually this takes a toll. At some point, you need you, as much or more, than all those other people and things need you. What then?
Imagine this scenario — we’ve all probably been there: At the grocery store, a woman has a cart full of groceries. Several other shoppers are gathering in line who have fewer items. (Unfortunately the “fewer than 15 items” aisle is closed)
One woman approaches and gets in line behind her who has only a gallon of milk and a box of fudgesicles in her arms. The woman with the full cart offers, “Go ahead; you have only two items.”
Next, a man appears and he has just a candybar. She lets him go ahead, too. Then, a woman with three items. Same thing. This happens several more times, when finally there is a break in the action as far as people with fewer groceries approaching goes and the woman with the full cart is able to pay for her things and be on her way.
Her generosity and putting others first costs her time. Is it worth it? Probably. After all, it felt good, and right, for her to be generous to others. She valued their time by letting them go ahead rather than have them endure the time it would take to ring up her full cart. The time it took for the five people she let go ahead probably exceeded the amount of time it took to ring up her full cart when it was all over. Maybe she’s very generous and didn’t have much planned for the day so all this doesn’t phase her. Then again, maybe it took time that she didn’t have to give.
Another example of this was on a flight I took to San Francisco last March. A man with two children boarded and their assigned seats were not together. A twenty-something woman traveling alone offered to give up her seat so the man could be seated with his small children, and moved about 5 rows back to take his assigned seat. Soon after, a woman and her daughter appear and her daughter’s assigned seat is next to the aforementioned woman’s “new” seat. Again, the twenty-something woman offers it up so the mother can sit by her daughter, and moves back another 3 rows to take the mother’s assigned seat.
You can see where this is going, right? Unbelievably, this happened one more time and the twenty-something woman moved farther back, this time ending up in a seat next to me.
I was struck by her generosity. This woman is my hero, I thought to myself. But by the time she moved a third time and ended up by me, she was worn out, and a little frustrated — not to mention her seat was so far in the back that it would take her much longer to get out of the plane when it landed. Was her generosity worth it? Probably. And yet, what if her next connection is so tight that taking five more minutes to get off the plane means she’ll miss her flight?
Another example might be the executive who works 80 hours a week and his/her health begins to fail. As a result of the work load, he/she has high blood pressure, poor eating habits and doesn’t get adequate rest. Add to that he/she has no time to spare for his/her family, or for his/her passions. His/her company is thriving; his/her life is not.
I’m not arguing against generosity. I encourage it. What I’m suggesting is that from time to time, we might be generous to ourselves, and say no to something or someone in the interest of saying yes to ourselves.
I like to say that when climbing a mountain, the bottom, middle and top are the hardest parts. I mean: It’s all uphill.
I'm going to the top of that mountain.
But I also like to say, the best views come to those willing to do the work to get to the top of mountains. One very good way to become actually what we are potentially — is to climb a mountain, to endure a struggle from which we expand and grow.
Whether in the wilderness literally climbing a mountain, such as the mountain my husband and I climbed yesterday in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, or metaphorically in one’s personal or work life, the payoff is worth it.
In the former, one gains a health benefit, increased confidence, and views that inspire for a long time, possibly forever. In the latter, there will be struggle that will generate personal discovery, growth and fulfillment.
In other words, even though it’s a bunch of hard work, it’s all upside.
Climbing a mountain is hard. It's all uphill.
Of course, my friend, Phil Powers, the first person from Wyoming to summit K2 without oxygen (maybe the only Wyoming person ever do this?) told me years ago, “The summit is only the half way point. Once you make it to the top, you still have to get down.”
But we’ll address that matter in another post.
In the meantime, and more importantly, what mountains are you gearing up to climb?
I want to make a clarification. Epic does not simply mean majestic and awesome. An epic life is not a perfect life. It’s not all awesome, all the time.
By epic, I mean something that is beyond scale — something so big you cannot exactly imagine it.
By epic, I mean difficult. So difficult that it will require skills you don’t already have. So difficult that at times it will require a heroic effort. So difficult that it cannot be done alone — you need a team, and or/significant support. So difficult that the outcome is not certain.
And, because of the scale and difficulty, it will be full of discovery and fulfillment.
An epic life is full of peak experiences. Living an epic life is about becoming actually what we are potentially. These peak experiences don’t happen without struggle. An epic life is a hard-earned celebration. It is epic not despite struggle, but because of it.
An epic life is a life that’s lived on purpose. By living on purpose I do not mean maximizing your time. I mean experiencing your time, rather than spending it. An epic life is a full life. (A full life and a busy life are not the same things.)
Why does it matter that we create and live our most epic life? Because we only have this one life. An epic life is your best life –– a life that we love so much we view it as the gift that it is.
To borrow the wonderful words of poet Mary Oliver: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
I love this Ted Talk by Buddhist roshi Joan Halifax. Halifax works with people at the last stage of life (in hospice and on death row). Here, she shares what she’s learned about compassion in the face of death and dying, and a deep insight into the nature of empathy.
Particularly, listen to Halifax at 1.55. It frames the talk. But the message is one about the importance of compassion. As Halifax so beautifully states, compassion is to recognize we are not separate from the suffering around us.
It’s hard to sign up for something that has the potential to change your life. I know because I’ve done it many times.
I also know it’s hard because right now I’m trying to compel others to sign up, and I’m not having an easy time of it. Which — I’m guessing — means I have prospects right where I want them: in the realization that what they’re considering has the potential to rock their world.
By the way, in my humble opinion and experience, it’s often harder to sign up than to do the thing you’re signing up for.
My mission at Epic Life (as your coach, or not as your coach) is to dare you to live as if you’re dying — to live each day as if it counts. Because each day does. None of knows how much time we have. I have a friend who died suddenly from an aneurysm at the age of 52 last October. It happens. (Lori was a mother, wife and grandmother, and a terrific friend to many. She lived life to the fullest better than anyone I know, and she continues to be an inspiration to all who knew her.)
You make each day count by living on purpose. An Epic Life is not a perfect life, but a life that’s lived on purpose.
Your life is your story. Contrary to what we often tell ourselves, we are at choice. We get to create our own stories. To create yours, you’ll have to go off-trail. My wish is to support others in going off-trail, so that they may discover what’s there.
Living an Epic Life is signing up for charting your own course, where the going will often be difficult, and the outcome uncertain.
What will you get in exchange? Discovery of your best life – an Epic Life.
If your current life is not your best, what are you waiting for? Serious and important question, this is.
People ask me what I do. I tell them I’m a life coach. Instead of answering their question, this response often generates a confused look.
The confused then follow up by asking, What’s a life coach?
As a life coach, I encourage, and help, people to climb the mountains in their lives.
By the way, an epic life is not a perfect life. An epic life is a life lived on purpose. Living on purpose is not easy. If it were, everyone would be doing it.
To live on purpose is to experience struggle, sometimes frequently. It’s hard saying yes; it’s hard saying no; it’s hard letting people in; it’s hard setting boundaries; it’s hard doing the right thing; it’s hard honoring your values 24/7; it’s hard to work less; it’s hard to honor all the relationships that matter to you. The list goes on for all the choices one must make in order to live his or her best (epic) life.
The fact is, living a meaningful life is hard. This is not bad news.
Most of us don’t want to do difficult things. I understand this. I often don’t want to, either, despite my understanding for the point in doing them. But I would argue that it is not despite hardship that we grow. It is often because of it.
In life, there are mountains to climb, some of them seemingly insurmountable.
As a life coach, my mission is to inspire and encourage others to choose to climb these mountains and to support them in the process. I believe that, in most cases, what is on the other side is worth it. I believe this with all of my might. (But, at the very least, the views are better from up high, and you become more skillful and experienced at climbing mountains and enduring struggle. You become more as a result of your climbs.)
So, that’s the best way I can describe what I do. And, it is an honor for me to do this work. Thank you for your support. I am grateful.
(Next up: Tools for discovering your life’s purpose. It is fun and important work to do.)
Zion National Park, in southwestern Utah, is one of my favorite places in the world. If you haven’t been there, add it to your list. You will thank me.
Greetings from Zion.
I am on my way to Las Vegas to give a presentation that is tomorrow morning. I jump on any opportunity I have to experience Zion. Given Zion is just 2-3 hours from Vegas, I blocked out a short stop in Zion. I hiked all day, including to Angel’s Landing, farther up the West Rim Trail, to Telephone Canyon, through Echo Canyon, to Observation Point, and to Hidden Canyon.
I saw countless flowers, including Indian paintbrush that grows out of the cracks of Zion’s big red walls. Tiny lizards crossed my path throughout the day and hummingbirds “buzzed” regardless of my location.
Flowers grow out of the walls.
Observation Point awards its hikers with views like this one.
The most epic views in Zion will take your breath away — both metaphorically and literally. I highly recommend you hike to Angel’s Landing, as well as to Observation Point. These hikes are not for the faint of heart. (Reasonable — and fit — people will hike one of these per day.) There is 1,500′ of elevation gain to Angel’s Landing and 2,500′ of gain to Observation Point.
Views from Zion's West Rim Trail.
I shared the trails with more than 100 people. I shook hands and shared brief conversations with 28 people. 28 wonderful people. I normally don’t keep track of how many people I meet in a day.
But yesterday was different. By 10 am, I had talked to more than 10 people and all of them were from outside of the U. S. This made me curious. All told, 20 out of 28 of the visitors I conversed with yesterday were from outside the U.S. I met people from France, Switzerland, England, Germany, Japan.
One woman, from Australia, was in the area to run in the first-ever Zion 100. I did not know about this event. If I didn’t have to be in Vegas tomorrow morning, perhaps I would enter that event. Or not.
Last year, I did an almost-50-mile traverse day hike from West to East of Zion National Park and it remains one of the most epic and unforgettable experiences I’ve ever had. I can only imagine what 100 miles of Zion would look, and be, like…
I am happy to report that I have a special use permit so I can guide Epic Life clients on hikes in Zion National Park. If you, or anyone you know, is interested in participating in a guided Epic Adventure with me to Zion, please let me know.
