Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 3

I almost never care if you were drunk or high

Here’s a good rule of thumb when it comes to storytelling:

If you were drinking or drunk, or if you were buzzed or high, but these activities or mental states had no bearing on your story, I don’t want to hear it.

Neither does anyone else.

If the point of your story is to tell people how drunk or high you were, definitely stop talking.

You’re telling a boring, stupid story.

The celebration and glorification of alcohol and drugs is stupid, unnecessary, overdone, and unoriginal. If that’s the point of your story, you’re telling a tale that’s been told countless times, and it’s always been boring. You’re merely adding your boring, stupid story to an infinite train of boring, stupid stories.

More often than not, the use of alcohol and drugs is meaningless to the story, making it even easier to avoid including.

I’ve heard lots of stories this summer that included enthusiastic references to the use of drugs and alcohol, even though their use played no role in the story.

Essentially, the storyteller was saying:

“By the way, I was drinking whiskey at the time, so I’m definitely cool.”
“On a side note, my friends and I were doing keg stands, so laugh and think of me as hilarious.”
“In case you wanted to know, I was high at the time, so think more highly of me.”

I don’t.

Nor do I think anyone should.

So stop mentioning it.

It only makes you sound immature, simple, and dumb.

If your use of alcohol or marijuana had a bearing on the story, then include it. But if it’s an ancillary detail that had no relevance in your story, please don’t.

You sound like a 19-year-old bragging about your first successful trip to the liquor store.

Ruckkehrunruhe

A new word for me:

Rückkehrunruhe: The feeling of returning from an immersive trip only to notice it fading rapidly from your awareness, as if your brain had automatically assumed it was all just a dream and already went to work scrubbing it from your memory.

Is this a thing?

It’s never been one for me, probably because I spend a lot of time during and after a trip writing about my experiences.

In addition to writing about what I did, I also write about what I thought and felt. I document new ideas and surprising revelations. I do so during and after vacations, business trips, golf outings, and any other travel.

I did the same thing on the day after our wedding, capturing every moment and nuance I could remember so that 19 years later, I can read those stories — of which there are many — and feel like the wedding happened yesterday.

I also did the same for the day I proposed to Elysha, every day of our honeymoon, the day Clara and Charlie were born, and many more.

Whenever something important happens, I write incessantly — during, after, or both.

Between…

Fourteen years of Homework for LifeA daily blog post for nearly two decadesA separate daily blog post written (and now printed in large volumes) to my children during the first six years of their livesA pile of handwritten journalsThree unpublished memoirsSix years of humor columnsMore than 200 different stories told on stages all over the worldHundreds of partially written blog posts and notes about my life

… I am awash in memory.

When I look back, I see so much. While time slips away for many, I happily look back and can still see so much of my life with clarity and precision.

Rückkehrunruhe?

I don’t think so. Not for me, at least. Our memories are our most precious possessions. I cling to them with all my might.

I suggest you do the same.

I performed in front of Hannibal Buress

I spoke at a conference in Victoria, Canada, last month. It was an extraordinary three days spent with some of the most accomplished and fascinating people I’ve ever met.

I was also lucky enough to have two friends from Connecticut joining me, including storyteller Ellen Last, who performed and taught alongside me.

She was pretty extraordinary.

I told stories, taught storytelling, performed comedy, and ran a workshop on how to write jokes.

While I was onstage attempting to tell stories to make people laugh, comic legend Hannibal Buress was in the room as one of the conference attendees. I was told that he was recording one of my stories with his phone.

When I was teaching a workshop on writing jokes, Hannibal Buress — award-winning, world-renowned comic  — was seated in the back of the room, watching me.

I had not planned for any of this.

I’ve told people that I’ve never felt nervous performing onstage, probably for a variety of reasons:

Unjustified levels of confidenceAn unholy lack of concern over what most people think of meA keen awareness of how quickly a poor performance is forgottenEndless amounts of forgiveness for myself

Probably, most important:

Once you’re tortured by murderers at gunpoint — gun to head, trigger pulled — nothing ever seems so scary or difficult.

Perspective is a powerful thing. I wouldn’t wish my particular brand of perspective on anyone, but if given a time machine, I wouldn’t change it, either.

But performing comedy in front of the great Hannibal Buress?

And teaching comedy in the presence of Hannibal Buress, who has more funny in his pinkie finger than I have in my entire body?

I thought to myself, “If I’m ever going to feel real nervousness, this might be it.” Then I took the stage.

Did I feel nervous?

Thankfully, no.

I wanted Hannibal to love my comedy.

I wanted him to think my methods of joke writing were insightful and brilliant.

I very much wanted to make him laugh.

But nervousness?

No.

Excitement for sure. I was filled with elevated levels of expectation and a deep desire to perform well, but not nervousness.

And if Hannibal hated my comedy or thought my joke writing strategies were nonsense, would that have upset me?

Not really. I would’ve been disappointed in myself for failing to take advantage of this unique opportunity, and I would’ve been annoyed at my inability to perform to my standards of excellence, but again, I’m exceptionally forgiving of myself.

It was Hanibal Buress, after all. A comic legend. Impressing him was going to be exceedingly difficult regardless of the circumstances.

I also know that poor performances are quickly forgotten. If Hannibal hated my performance, he wouldn’t be thinking about it or me an hour later. By the end of the day, I’d be entirely forgotten.

A missed opportunity, for sure, but not a career destroyer.

Besides, everyone bombs. Even the great Hannibal Buress bombs.

I was also keenly aware that this was Hannibal Buress, comic legend, but also Hannibal Buress, human being. He’s exceptionally skilled at making people laugh, but we all have singular talents. He probably can’t teach a class of fifth graders, write a novel, or avoid three-putting for multiple rounds of golf in a row like me.

I can almost certainly cook a better egg than he can.

We’re both just people. We do some things well, some things poorly, and most things in between.

An audience is also just people.

A room full of some of the most accomplished and fascinating people I’ve ever met is also just a room full of people.

Perhaps this is also why I don’t get nervous speaking in front of audiences, and perhaps why you shouldn’t, either. An audience might consist of many faces and twice as many eyes and ears, but each one is a singular human being, just like you.

Like you, they all have dreams and flaws. Hopes and failures. Wishes and fears. They have all enjoyed moments in the sun and suffered long days in the shadows.

They are all just people like you. Nothing to be nervous about. Nothing to fear. Just human beings hoping to be entertained.

Even if one of them happens to be comic legend and genius Hannibal Buress.

On the last day of the conference, I spoke to Hannibal at a picnic beside a lake. I told him that I loved his comedy and thought he was brilliant.

He said, “I like what you do, too.”

Did he really mean those words?

I’m going to assume he did, because I also believe in being kind to yourself whenever possible.
Assuming the best intentions.
Finding your fuel wherever you can.
Telling yourself the best story possible.

We all deserve every bit of sunshine that you can get.

I caught a ray of sunshine that day when a comic legend said that he liked what I did, even if he was being a little generous.

Please don’t be mean to your kids

Over the last week, I’ve overheard three different sets of parents yelling at their children in public, and in each case, the parent sounded like a monster.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” one parent said to a little girl who was probably four or five years old. The words weren’t great, but it was the tone — filled with genuine anger — that was even more upsetting.

And this was said on a crowded beach within earshot of at least a dozen people, which made me think this particular parent thought her words and tone were perfectly acceptable.

They were not.

I know it’s easy to judge someone’s situation from a distance, but sometimes, that judgment is also correct.

In this case, it was. And it happened two other times over the past couple of days — in a restaurant and outside an ice cream shop. In all three cases, the child in question was young.

Under ten years old.

In each case, the words spoken by the parent weren’t ideal, but it was the way they were spoken — filled with anger and rage — that upset me more. Parents are the one rock upon which children can depend. In the mind of a child, the world is a vast, often scary place where they cannot survive independently.  They rely on their parents for every earthly need and want, including essentials such as food, water, shelter, clothing, and comfort.

When the single source of sustenance and love is suddenly filled with rage and lashes out with anger and vitriol, it can fill a child’s mind and body with anxiety and fear. The person for whom the child once depended can no longer be trusted, and the world becomes a much more uncertain and scarier place for the child.

There is nothing wrong with being angry with your child.

There is nothing wrong with telling your child that their behavior is unacceptable.

There’s nothing wrong with punishing your child for inappropriate behavior.

Parents can and should be firm, consistent, and stern when necessary. They can raise their voice if needed. Yell, even.

But they should never lose control.

Rage has no place in parenting. Vindictiveness is never okay.

Frightening your child should never be a thing.

You should not speak to your child in a way that makes people around you worry about the safety of your child.

I heard that happen three times over the last week, and each time, it broke my heart.

Parenting isn’t always easy, and sometimes you can become angry with your child. You might even become filled with rage. But there is a simple solution in these precarious circumstances:

Wait.

Unless your child is running into oncoming traffic or removing their life jacket in the middle of a lake, wait to say something.

Count to ten.
Breathe deeply for a minute.
Give yourself 15 minutes to pull yourself together.
If there is a second parent in the household, ask them to step in and help.

The world can be scary enough for a small child without the one person whom they depend upon for almost everything becoming unstable or untrustworthy.

Please don’t be mean to your child. Be tough and consistent and insistent and demanding. Scold and punish.

But don’t be mean.

Your words carry so much weight, and the impact they have, and even more, the tone you use, can leave a lasting, determinant impact on your little one.

My TikTok adventure

You never know what might happen when you listen to experts.

Back in August, I met a man named Tuan Le at a conference in Victoria, BC.

I actually met him thanks to my friend and partner, Pete, who introduced us while I was eating a hot dog beside a lake.

It’s good to have smart friends.

Tuan is a social media guru – a 23-year-old who has made a fortune helping companies promote themselves on platforms like TikTok and Instagram.

Earlier this year, he paid for his parents to retire.

Tuan told me to launch a TikTok channel. He had spent the last three days listening to me teach, tell stories, and perform comedy, and thought I had the content and voice required to be successful.

I had never even downloaded the TikTok app. Other than posting an occasional photo at the behest of my publicity, I had never used Instagram. I had never scrolled through either of these platforms or spent any significant time on either one.

“Just point the camera at yourself and start talking,” Tuan said.

That sounded too easy.

I wondered about the quality and length of the videos. Proper posting times. The means by which I might leverage the algorithm.

Tuan told me that all of those things were nonsense.

“Good content. That’s all you need,” he said. He explained that none of the things people think are important to gain views and subscribers matter at all.

He told me to just post things people will want to watch. “You speak well and say smart things,” he told me. “You’re funny and entertaining.” He said that I could even post some of the stories I’d told that week and they would do well, too.

“But those stories are five or six minutes long,” I said. “I thought TikTok videos were short.”

“Nope,” he said. As long as it’s good, it doesn’t matter.”

I felt like I had just met someone who sees the universe in a way no one else could see it.

A better way. The right way.

Four days ago, I posted one of my stories to TikTok – a story I told in Boston a couple of years ago that I’ve shared many times since. A story about my Spoon of Power.

It’s long — almost six minutes.

I didn’t attempt to time the posting.

I didn’t edit the video at all.

I didn’t seek to leverage the algorithm.

I just posted it, as Tuan said, and watched.

On day three, the post hit one million views. Tens of thousands of comments. I went from zero followers to more than 10,000 followers almost overnight.

Yesterday, the video hit 1.1 million views.

Tuan was right. He told me that great content will always win, and it did.

A single conversation on the side of a lake in Victoria, Canada, with a singular person made an enormous impact on how many people have seen and heard my story. It instantly launched my TikTok account into the monetization level, creating a new revenue stream for me. It’s driven people to my YouTube channel, resulting in a substantial increase in my subscribers. It has significantly boosted traffic to my website.

It may be the start of something big. Or perhaps a flash in the pan. Either way, more people have heard and seen this story than any other in my life.

I have additional plans that may extend this moment even further.

All thanks to an introduction, a few minutes of insight and expertise, and a willingness to try.

Also, the story, of course, which was the result of 15 years of performing onstage and almost 35 years of writing stories.

Good content, as Tuan said, is king.

But I’ve learned (and been reminded) of some important lessons from all of this.

Don’t get trapped in false beliefs.
Don’t overthink and overplan.
Don’t doubt experts.
Just move forward.
Experiment.
Don’t delay.
Do it.

Thank you, Tuan. Brilliant advice. Amazing results.

Resolution update: August 2025

Every month, I record my progress toward my yearly goals to hold myself accountable and occasionally seek help and advice from readers who are willing to offer insight, ideas, and solutions.

Here are my results from August.

PERSONAL FITNESS/ATHLETICS

1. Don’t die.

I’m still rucking. Forty pounds on my back now.

I’m going to live forever.

2. Lose 10 pounds.

Four more pounds gained in August. Vacation in Canada, filled with delicious food, made it difficult to maintain my weight,

Four additional pounds in 2025.

3. Do a targeted push-up workout at least four times per week. 

I skipped a week while on vacation, which made getting back to my routine unexpectedly difficult.

4. Complete 100 sit-ups four times per week. 

I skipped a week while on vacation, which made getting back to my routine unexpectedly difficult.

5. Complete three one-minute planks four times a week.

I skipped a week while on vacation, which made getting back to my routine unexpectedly difficult.

6. Cycle for at least five days every week. 

I completed 19 rides in August — a mix of indoor and outdoor.

I was in Victoria, Montreal, and Quebec City in August for a total of 12 days, and I was unable to ride on any of those days.

I was also in Michigan for four days, but thanks to an excellent hotel gym, I was able to ride twice per day for three of these days, which helped a little.

A total of 168 rides so far this year.

7. Try at least three new vegetables I have never eaten before or do not like. 

I ate my first gooseberry in back in July, which is not a vegetable.

Otherwise, no progress.

8. Get a DEXA Scan and VO2 Max test at least once in 2025.

Done!

9. Lower my handicap to 19.9. 

I played 12 rounds of golf in August, including three 18-hole rounds, and my handicap rose to 27.8.

I am, however, making legitimate progress on my swing and have upgraded my driver.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              WRITING CAREER

10. Complete my eighth novel.

Work continues.

11. Write, edit, and revise my golf memoir.

No progress.

12. Write my “Advice for Kids” book.

Solid progress. Nearly complete.

13. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist.

I have an excellent children’s book idea that I will begin shortly.

14. Write about my childhood in partnership with my sister, Kelli, at least once per month. 

No progress.

15. Write a new solo show.

Done!

16. Submit at least three Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.

No progress.

17. Write at least four letters to my father.

I sent a letter and photos to my father in August.

Two letters so far this year.

18. Write 150 letters.

Done!

A total of 17 letters were written in August to students, former students, fans, clients, and my kids.

A total of 156 letters have been written in 2025 so far.

19. Write to at least six authors about a book I love. 

No progress.

STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER

20. Launch a new Homework for Life app.

Done! You can download Apple’s App Store now!

21. Record and publish at least 25 videos on my YouTube channel.

Done!

Four videos were posted in August. A total of 27 videos have been posted in 2025 so far.

Thanks to my production manager, my YouTube channel is really taking off.

Subscribe here.

We’ve also launched my TikTok channel. I’ve never been on TikTok, but my content is!

One of my stories has 950,000 views in four days and counting.

22. Perform a new solo show.

Done! Two sold-out shows were performed in May. New venues are now being sought.

23. Revise my free Storyworthy Academy.  

Done.

Thanks primarily to the work of my partner and production manager, we have an outstanding free academy for anyone who wants to learn more about storytelling.

We’ve also just launched a brand new version of our website.

Check it out at storyworthy.com.

24. Record and produce at least three new Storyworthy courses.

Done! Two new courses have been completed and are now ready to launch with our new website.

25. Produce a total of six Speak Up storytelling events in 2025.

No shows were produced in August.

We have produced five shows in 2025 so far:

January 11 at the Connecticut Museum of History and CultureFebruary 7 at District in New HavenMay 10 at the Connecticut Museum of History and CultureJune 7 at the Mark Twain HouseJune 28 at Hartford Flavor Company

We have upcoming shows on October 11, November 3, and at least one more date TBD.

26. Submit pitches to at least three upcoming TEDx events, hoping to be accepted by one.

No progress.

27. Attend at least eight Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

Done!

I attended two Moth StorySLAMs in August, including Clara and Charlie’s first StorySLAM! My name was drawn from the bag in one of the two competitions, and I finished in third place.

A total of nine Moth events in 2025.

28. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.

Done! I won my 62nd Moth StorySLAM in March.

29. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

No Moth GrandSLAM opportunities yet.

30. Pitch “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” or my new show to six theaters in 2025. 

No progress.

31. Produce at least 24 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.

No progress.

32. Perform stand-up at least six times. 

I performed stand-up comedy twice in Michigan.

I’ve performed stand-up three times in 2025.

33. Pitch three stories to This American Life.

No progress.

34. Submit at least three pitches to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast.

Done.

Three pitches sent to Maron, including one in August. To my surprise, Maron announced that is podcast is coming to an end in the fall, so my chances of making this dream come true is rapidly diminishing.

35. Send a newsletter to readers at least 50 times. 

Done!

Four newsletters were sent in August to my Storyworrhy audience, plus one to our Speak Up audience and 11 to my Substack audience.

Check out my Substack here
https://substack.com/@matthewdicks

I’ve sent 84 newsletters so far in 2025.

HOME

36. Organize the basement.

More progress! Bins cleared. More furniture was eliminated.

36. Clear the garage of unwanted items.

Done! The garage is officially clean, and all unwanted items have been removed.

37. Replace our backyard shed.

Done!

The shed has been installed.

38. Refinish the hardwood floors.

Done.

FAMILY/FRIENDS

39. Travel to Europe.

We’ve decided to travel to Montreal and Quebec City instead of Europe this year.

I’m not sure whether to count this as complete or incomplete.

40. Text or call my brother or sister once per month. 

Done.

41. Bring my brother, sister, and me together at least twice in 2025.

No progress.

42. Take at least one photo of my children every day.

Done.

43. Take at least one photo with Elysha and me each week.

Many photos were taken in August. Vacation and a wedding helped. Done.

44. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

No progress.

45. I will not comment positively or negatively on the physical appearance of anyone except my wife and children to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.

Done.

46. Surprise Elysha at least 12 times.

No surprises in August.

I’ve surprised Elysha seven times in 2025:

A surprise birthday party on January 4Post Valentine’s Day flowersClever and amusing office suppliesFlowers on the first day of testingDesserts for Elysha and her teammatesUkulele care packageMocktail subscription

47. Play poker at least six times.

Done!

I played poker twice with Charlie in 2025 — both times using a video poker game on a plane.

I’ve also played dozens of sessions of online poker again on a legal, sweepstakes-based website.

I’m in the black.

48. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.

I’ve taken two walks with Bengi in 2025.

A walk was scheduled in August, but Bengi was ill.

A total of two days spent with Bengi in 2025.

MUSIC

49. Memorize the lyrics to at least five favorite songs. 

Currently working on memorizing “The Final Countdown.”

50. Practice the flute at least four times per week.

No progress.

MISCELLANEOUS PROJECTS

51. Host at least three dinner parties where I cook.

No progress.

52. Develop a course on self-confidence. 

Progress continues. Strategies are being collected, an instructional outline is being developed, and I’m conducting interviews to gather thoughts and ideas.

53. Develop a list of strategies to help people deal with loneliness and produce it in some form.

I’ve started writing a book on the subject, based on the list of strategies I’m developing.

This was a surprise to me and my literary agent. Instead of writing the full book, I’ll write a proposal for it.

54. Read at least 12 books.

Done!

I read one book in August:
“The Art of Winning” by Bill Belichick

I’m currently reading:

“Sicker in the Head” by Judd Apatow
“Walden” by Henry David Thoreau
“The Gunslinger” by Stephen King (re-read)
“This Beautiful Day” by Fred Rogers
The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo (re-read)

I’ve read 17 books thus far in 2025:

“Unreasonable Hospitality” by Will Guidara
“Schtick to Business” by Pete McGraw
”The Humor Code” by Pete McGraw
“Catching the Big Fish” by David Lynch
“Simply Said” by Jay Sullivan
”Miracle and Wonder” by Bruce Headlam and Malcolm Gladwell
“Revenge of the Tipping Point” by Malcolm Gladwell
”Factfulness” by Hans Rosling
”Fight” by Jonathan Allen and Amie Parnes
“Steal Like an Artist” by Austin Kleon
“The User’s Guide to Storytelling” by Doug O’Brien
“Keep Going” by Austin Kleon
“Show Your Work” by Austin Kleon
“Big Dumb Eyes” by Nate Bartgatze
“Never Flinch” by Stephen King
“Lyrics to Live By” by Mitch Taylor
“The Art of Winning” by Bill Belichick:

55. Finish reading TIME’s 100 Best Children’s Books of All Time. 

No progress in August.

I’ve read five additional books in 2025, bringing my total to 44 total books read off the list.

56. Edit our wedding footage into a movie of the day.

No progress. 

57. Digitize a pile of DVDs that contain dance recitals, plays, and other assorted moments from the past.

Done!

58. Memorize three new poems.

Done!

I’ve memorized the following poems in 2025 thus far:

“This is Just to Say” by William Carlos Williams
“Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost
“Trees” by Joyce Kilmer

59. Post my progress regarding these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.

Done.

One day…

This book by Omas Akkad is not about the current political climate in the United States, but it might as well be based on the title, which was initially a tweet about the humanitarian crisis in Gaza.

This book’s title speaks the truth about the cowards in Congress who are afraid to oppose the twice-impeached felon who paid hush money to porn a star, defrauded his own charitable organization, and pardoned his fellow felons who assaulted police officers who were protecting America’s citadel of democracy.

Elected officials who have abdicated their responsibility to their constituents in exchange for the power that comes from standing beside a man whom most believe to be an ignorant monster simply because they are afraid to oppose him.

These politicians are choosing to cling to their jobs instead of their honor, reputation, and decency.

I believe that Omar Akkad is right:

“One day, when it’s safe, when there’s no personal downside to calling a thing what it is, when it’s too late to hold anyone accountable, everyone will have always been against this.”

We must be willing and ready to call out those cowards when they do so.

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Matt writes every day.

An email written by my friend, Jeff:
___________________________________

Matt,

For the longest time, I’ve had the note at my desk.

It reads, “Matt writes every day.”

It’s meant as inspiration.

Last December, as I was creating my list of resolutions, I decided I needed to add “Write every day. And so far, I haven’t missed a day.

The result?

Yesterday I finished a first draft of a novel. It’s way too long (426 pages) and needs a lot  (as in a ton) of work, but it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. There were some days when I only churned out a hundred words or so.

But I kept going and yesterday typed, “The End.”

It just shows what can be accomplished with consistency. Also, I can’t tell you how many times I had a few spare minutes and I heard your voice saying, “I can write a few good sentences in ten minutes.”

I’m going to put it away for a few weeks and work on something else now. Have to keep the momentum going.

So, thanks for the inspiration and the push, even though you had no idea it was happening.

___________________________________

I share this (with Jeff’s permission) as tangible evidence of incrementalism at its best:

Doing a little bit every day without exception will, over time, produce extraordinary results.

I think most people believe this, but very few act upon it.

Jeff did. As a result, he’s written a book, which exceptionally few people ever do. It’s a monumental achievement.

Truly.

And I love the idea of a sign on the desk that reads, “Matt writes every day,” which is true.

I’ve written every day of my life since November 30, 1988, without ever missing a day. This amounts to 13,421 days, including 7,203 consecutive days spent writing this blog and its previous permutations.

For Jeff, this sign (and what it represented) served as a source of inspiration:

“If Matt can do it, so, too, can I.”

For others, it might serve as a reminder that someone is getting ahead while you are not:

“Matt’s writing today. He’s making progress. Advancing his craft. Honing his skills. I can’t let him get ahead of me.”

Either way, keeping this idea — “Matt writes every day” — kept Jeff moving forward. Perhaps made the journey feel possible.

As Anthony Hopkins’ character, Charles, says in “The Edge” when facing impossible odds:

“What one man can do, another can do!”

Matt writes every day.

So, too, can anyone else.

Like Jefd..

And you.

Go walking. Perhaps while weighted down like a mule.

A post from Fabián’s Journal.When in doubt, Go for a Walk

04 Jul, 2025

Walking won’t solve everything. But it won’t make anything worse.

That’s more than you can say for most things we do when we’re stressed, tired, or lost.

You walk to get out of your head. To breathe. To let your mind drift without crashing.

You don’t walk to fix the problem—you walk because you need space from it.

The world doesn’t look so cruel when you’re moving through it one step at a time.

You notice things. You remember you’re alive.

So when in doubt—go for a walk.

And now, something about two thousand years older:

“Solvitur ambulando.”
— Diogenes

Translation: It is solved by walking.

I love all of this. I couldn’t agree more.

Recently, I’ve taken to rucking:

Walking while wearing a weighted backpack.

I’ve been carrying a heavy packpack for a long time. It’s filled with everything I might need at almost any moment, and it’s almost always with me. When people lift my everyday backpack, they are often appalled by its weight.

Last time I checked, it weighed 18 pounds.

I use the same backpack when traveling, so I’ve spent a lot of time hiking through airports, hotels, and the like with it attached to my back. And when traveling, it gets heavier because it contains everything I need for two or three days on the road.

So after seeing my friend, Eddie, go rucking while I was visiting Washington, D.C., and reading about the numerous health benefits associated with rucking, I thought I might give it a try.

I’m sort of rucking in everyday life already. Why not try it as a form of exercise as well?

Today, I walk my neighborhood for 30-45 minutes at a time, carrying a specially designed rucking backpack containing 40 pounds of weighted plates.

It’s been great. Relaxing yet challenging—all the benefits of walking, along with a genuine workout.

When I don’t feel like riding my bike or simply want a change of pace, I now go rucking.

Walking is also one of the most appealing aspects of playing golf. I play almost all of my rounds with a bag on my back, walking the course, chasing my little, white ball.

Unless I’m playing a course that requires a cart, or I’m playing with someone who can’t walk the course due to age or injury, or I’m playing with someone who could walk the course but is too weak-willed or fancy to do so, I walk.

I put one foot in front of the other, with a bag on my back, grass under my feet, and trees and sky overhead.

Good for my body and even better for my mind.

It’s one of my favorite parts of the gam.

The oddity in all of this is that I don’t enjoy walking for walking’s sake. Going for a walk has never appealed to me very much. It’s exercise, but it feels like the lowest form of exercise — the very least you could do to elevate your heart rate and work your muscles.

It’s transportation — a means of getting from one place to another — but it also feels like the least efficient way to do so.

If I’m going to walk, I might as well ride my bike. Or chase a little, white ball. Or now, carry 40 pounds on my back.

As Fabian wrote:

“The world doesn’t look so cruel when you’re moving through it one step at a time.”

I’ll add:

I think it often looks pretty damn good while doing so.

Some really dumb speaking advice

Someone told my client that you shouldn’t become emotional onstage when speaking or performing because it denies the audience an opportunity to feel things for themselves.

My client thought this advice sounded off and asked me if it was true.

I told her it was ridiculous, of course. Stupid, even.

What I really said was this:

“The person who gave you that advice is a very stupid person.”

Then I said, “Let me revise that statement, because very intelligent people sometimes say very stupid things. I don’t know anything about the person who offered you this advice, but in this particular case, their thinking and advice are stupid.”

Surprisingly, the person offering the advice is a highly successful public speaker.

Again, that doesn’t preclude them from sometimes saying or believing something stupid.

I say and do stupid things all the time.

However, in this case, I am absolutely, positively correct.

It is perfectly fine, completely understandable, and often advantageous to become emotional onstage when performing, particularly if the moment calls for it. I often say that storytellers and speakers should not reach a “snot-bubble” level of emotion, but if a speaker becomes choked up, verklempt, or even teary-eyed for a moment while onstage, it’s perfectly fine and often expected.

The audience should never feel like you’re using them for some public form of therapy, but as long as you’ve processed the moment in question, attained perspective, understanding, and equilibrium with it, and moved forward in a healthy way, then becoming emotional is absolutely, positively fine.

I become emotional in many of my stories because I’m sharing emotional moments from my life. In many ways, I’m re-living those moments onstage for the benefit of the audience. I’m seeing these moments in my mind’s eye, occupying spaces, seeing faces, and feeling feelings from the past.

When I tell the story of the death of my mother, of course, I become emotional.

When I tell the story of the moment my friends became my family, I always become a little emotional. I can’t speak a sentence of that story without feeling myself well up with emotion, even if that sentence is spoken in isolation.

When I tell stories about my children, regardless of the context, I often find myself becoming emotional.

When I tell stories about the life and death of my dog, Kaleigh, I always get a little teary-eyed.

When I tell the story of the robbery and torture at the hands of three armed men — the source of my PTSD —  I always become emotional.

It would be weird if I didn’t.

These are just three of many examples of moments onstage when I become emotional.

I’ve become emotional in theaters, corporate boardrooms, churches and synagogues, libraries, community centers, outdoor festivals, and school auditoriums. I became emotional while training FBI agents at the FBI Academy in Quantico.

No one had any problem feeling their own feelings simply because I expressed my own. My moment of visible emotion did not somehow hotwire or alter the audience’s emotional response. People felt how they felt, regardless of me or my response. No one thought I was any less of a speaker, storyteller, or expert. No one thought I was weak or fragile.

In fact, the willingness to express honest emotion in front of others is not a demonstration of weakness but a signal of strength. People who are willing to be vulnerable in front of others are almost always demonstrating enormous courage.

Just to be clear:

This is not the case for me. I have always been able to say anything in front of an audience without worry, fear, or nervousness of any kind. I’m not implying I am an especially courageous person.

But for almost all other people, public speaking — especially when speaking about your own life — is not easy. Doing so while also willing to be vulnerable is enormously courageous.

This is also why we should stop apologizing when we become emotional in front of others. I attended a conference this summer where three speakers addressing the audience became choked up and had to pause for a couple of seconds to collect themselves. Each time the person apologized for their moment of emotion, and each time, I wanted to rise from my seat and shout:

“No! We do not apologize for being human! We do not apologize for our willingness to be vulnerable in front of others! That apology stifles and even frightens others from being vulnerable in the future! Stop it!”

I didn’t say this, of course, but I spoke to each person privately and explained why their apology was unnecessary and perhaps even counterproductive to those listening.

All of this makes the advice my client received about not becoming emotional onstage stupid.

I suspect one of three things is happening here:

The person offering the advice is uncomfortable with becoming emotional onstage and, therefore, has developed a belief system around their own discomfort. If it feels wrong to them, it must be wrong.This person does not connect with their story onstage and therefore does not become emotional while telling it, so they wrongly assume that those who can and do are somehow appearing fragile in front of their audience.This person does not tell stories as part of their keynote. They only offer things like ideas, strategies, data, and principles, absent any personal stories, so there is nothing for them to ever become emotional about. Therefore, watching someone else become emotional onstage makes no sense to them, so they assume something is not right when it happens.

In all three cases, their advice is probably not nefarious or intentionally self-serving. They simply see the world through the lens of what they can do, and as a result, they have developed a guiding principle around that limitation.

But they are woefully, dreadfully wrong.

Their advice to avoid becoming emotional onstage is stupid.

Apologizing for becoming vulnerable in a public setting is also a bad idea.

Okay?