Niall Doherty's Blog, page 211

The Truth About Passive Income

A quick note: on Tuesday, July 21st I’ll be releasing an in-depth guide teaching you how to travel the world and work online (like I’ve been doing for the past five years). More about that at the end of this article.

…

Let’s tackle everyone’s favorite topic when it comes to working online.

But in this article I’m NOT going to give you seven steps to passive income or anything like that. Because honestly, I’ve been self-employed and working online for almost five years now, and I still haven’t cracked it myself.

What I have done these past five years though is waste a ton of time chasing the passive income dream.

And so I want to offer you some simple advice: forget about it.

That’s right. Forget about passive income.

I’m not saying it’s a myth, and I’m not saying it’s impossible.

What I am saying is this: focusing on passive income when you’re just starting out trying to make a living online can be very distracting, and very costly.

In my experience (and the experience of many other web workers I’ve talked to about this), you’re far better off focusing on “active” income when you’re just starting out. That means becoming a freelancer and trading your time for money.

Why are you better off doing this?

First and foremost, you’re simply much more likely to make a reliable income as a freelancer. You know that if you put in five hours working on a freelance project, you’ll be compensated appropriately for those hours.

With passive income there’s a lot less certainty. You could spend days, weeks or even months building some automated system that you believe will generate passive income (as I’ve tried to do several times in the past), only to end up disappointed (as I’ve ended up several times in the past).

That’s not to say that you should never take a risk and invest a bunch of time and energy into a project with little or no guarantee of reward, but it’s foolish to pin all your hopes on something like that. It’s much smarter to build up a reliable freelancing business first, and have that to fall back on if your later attempts at generating passive income fail miserably.

Another reason I recommend focusing on “active” income first is because the experience of working direct with real clients on real projects is invaluable. You learn a lot about your chosen industry and begin to see which problems are most painful and prevalent. You also learn how to market your services, make pitches, close deals and manage projects. If you grow your freelancing business steadily you can begin to outsource some of the work and transform into an agency.

Once you get to that point, you’ll be better able to identify solid opportunities for generating passive income, and you’ll be better equipped to capitalize on those opportunities.

All that said, it’s good to always have your eyes open for passive income opportunities, even if you’re just starting out. Just please be skeptical and do your due diligence before investing a ton of time and energy into the chase.

A lot of people online will tell you that passive income is easy to achieve, but out of the literally hundreds of web workers I’ve personally met or corresponded with over the years, I’d say less than 1% of them are truly making a good living from passive income.

Maybe you’re exceptional and you can generate passive income right out of the gate, but your best bet is to assume that you’re going to have to knuckle down and grind it out as a freelancer in the early days.

And honestly, that’s not so bad. You may go through some struggles, but in the the long run freelancing beats the hell out of traditional, nine-to-five, working-for-someone-else employment. As a freelancer, the opportunities to grow and learn and earn are endless, and you’ll have the flexibility to live wherever you want and set your own hours.

In whatever niche you choose to serve as a freelancer, with even a mediocre amount of hustle, you should be able to work your way up to a rate of $30 an hour within six months or so. Work three hours a day, Monday to Friday at that rate, and you’re grossing $1800 a month. That will buy you a nice lifestyle in many a tropical country, and give you plenty of free time to actually enjoy it.

Now all that may not be what you want to hear — promises of passive income are much more seductive — but I strongly believe it’s what you need to hear if you’re serious about making money online.

I have much more information on this topic in the guide I’ll be releasing on July 21st, including interviews with several people who are earning more than $5,000/month as self-taught online freelancers. They started with no special skills or experience yet were able to make it happen.

If they can do it, you can, too.

Make sure you’re signed up to my mailing list below so I can give you a heads up about the guide as soon as it’s released. I’ll be sending information about an early-bird discount to everyone on there.

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The Worst Travel Mistake I Ever Made

In a little thatch-roof cottage in the center of Kathmandu, I sat at my laptop and pressed submit.

And it was done.

I’d just sent $1,200 to a specialist travel agent to book passage aboard a freighter from Sri Lanka to Malaysia.

I sat back and smiled.

Almost a year into my trip around the world without flying, the next big leg of the journey was now arranged and paid for.

The payment was non-refundable, but I was confident everything would go according to plan. All I had to do was make my way down through India, cross the ten miles of sea to Sri Lanka, and be in Colombo on October 9th, ready to board that big beautiful boat to South East Asia.

I sat there all self-satisfied, daydreaming of upcoming adventures.

I pictured myself riding trains all the way south to Chennai, sticking my head out of open doors and basking in the breeze like a dog riding shotgun with the window down. I looked ahead to crossing the Bay of Bengal and the Andaman Sea, perhaps catching a glimpse of an untouched island or the occasional whale shark. And I imagined stepping off the freighter in Malaysia and making my way north to the promised land of Siam, where friends and lovers awaited.

And then a thought entered my mind that gave me pause. I sat up and quickly and began googling:

ferry from india to sri lanka
boat from india to sri lanka
india to sri lanka by sea
india to sri lanka without flying
why the fuck is there no ferry between india and sri lanka???

I wasn’t overly concerned at first. It was ten miles of sea. Surely I’d find some way to cross it without flying.

But alas, no.

The next four weeks saw me try my luck with cruise lines, cargo ship companies, fishing vessels, sailboats, even the Sri Lankan coastguard… but I found no way to cross that stubborn strait without wings. There had been no ferry in operation for thirty years. There were no suitable dates for a cruise. It was illegal to pay a fisherman to taxi me across. The sailing season was months away. And the Sri Lankan coastguard warned that they would open fire on unidentified vessels.

October 9th came and went. My big beautiful boat disembarked from Colombo, Sri Lanka, en route to Tanjung Pelepas, Malaysia.

I was still stuck in India. And $1,200 poorer.

Eventually I would escape India without flying — I tell the whole story in my book, The Cargo Ship Diaries — but losing those dozen benjamins ate away at me for quite a while. All it would have taken to avoid that loss was a little extra rigor in my research, devoting just a few more minutes to investigate and confirm every part of the route.

Of course, as I’ve often said, you can’t have an adventure if everything goes to plan. But some adventures are more expensive than others. Whenever you’re about to spend a significant sum on travel — or anything else, for that matter — first ask yourself if you’ve done your due diligence.

What’s the worst travel mistake you’ve ever made?

I’m putting together a short guide on costly travel mistakes and how to avoid them. I’d love if you could share your biggest travel mistake in the comments below. If your mistake is appropriately cringe-inducing, I’ll include it in the guide. Be sure to drop a link to your blog/website in the comments if you’d like some google juice.

(Alternatively, if you haven’t traveled much before, let me know in the comments what travel mistake you’re most worried you’ll make when you do hit the road!)

How to work online and travel the world

Lastly, two weeks from now I’ll be releasing an in-depth guide teaching you how to work online and travel the world (like I’ve been doing for the past five years).

If you’ve always wanted to live a travel lifestyle and earn money from your laptop, but aren’t sure where to start, this guide is for you.

Sign up below and I’ll email you a special discount offer when the guide is released.

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Momentos: June 16th – June 30th, 2015

16.

Reading two books written by one-time lovers, and loving them both. The Fountainhead is one I’ve long been intimidated to tackle, but more enjoyable than expected. And then there’s Branden’s masterpiece on self-esteem. That’s one you have to read slowly. I’ve been working through it for almost two months now. It’s made me a better man.

17.

I told a friend I couldn’t meet him for coffee this afternoon. Of course, I could have, but I’m trying to keep my schedule sacred. 6:30am to 6:30pm, no exceptions. Tonight was another challenge, with a dinner date at my place. I could have asked her to sleep over, and it would have been nice, but she was gone by eleven. Need that rest to be at my best.

18.

What would your days look like if you had all the time and money in the world? I thought about it and decided I’d spend an hour each day reading a book and I’d take a nap every afternoon. Then I thought, shit, wait… those luxuries are available to me now! So I’m claiming them. Seems lots of time and money weren’t required, just a little prioritizing.

19.

It’s not sex that we’re having. No, this is making love. It’s a spiritual experience, lasting hours at a time. Lost in each other’s eyes, trembled by a thousand touches, awed by the occasional tear. I’ve never been this intimate with someone so fast. It feels effortless, and right, like breathing clean air from a wooded hillside somewhere south of Schafberg.

20.

Facing a familiar dilemma in this tiled and narrow room. There are two doors between us, one slightly ajar. It’s times like this I envy the Japanese and their magic buttons. I have to make do with primitive forms of aural camouflage, like a fake cough or a flowing faucet. Of course I could just kill the smoke and mirrors and let rip, take our intimacy to the next level.

Feeding swans at Lijnbaansgracht, very near the Heineken Brewery.

21.

There are days when it feels like a heavy block of dull stone sits in the doorway and you can see slivers of grass and sunshine beyond but you’re trapped inside where it’s cold and grey and everything’s moving in slow motion and you can try pushing and pounding on that stone but your best bet is to step away and let it crumble beneath the weight of a good night’s sleep.

22.

Nathan Myhrvold once said that in order to do “wild, new shit… you have to be confused, upset, think you’re stupid.” Mr. Myhrvold so happens to be one of the smartest men on the planet, so it’s good to hear that coming from him. Business-wise, I’ve been going back and forth the past few days between thinking success is inevitable, and feeling confused, upset, stupid.

23.

That travel agent idea didn’t pan out. I found one that let me play with their email marketing this month, but the response wasn’t great, so we’re dropping it. I’m happy with the effort though. I took a good crack, learned a thing or two, and failed fast. As in poker, losing a hand doesn’t mean you played it poorly. I’ll keep my seat at the table.

24.

Yesterday wasn’t very productive for me, and I realized it was because I kept letting myself get distracted by email and Facebook messages, falling down endless rabbit holes of correspondence. So my key habit for today was to only check both inboxes once in the morning, and once in the evening. In between, much work got done.

25.

It’s before seven on a weekday morning and we’re taking a leisurely stroll to Rembrandtplein. One of the many things I love about this city — and you notice it now, too — are the little independent stores everywhere, the time-traveled shopfronts of tailors, cobblers, cheesemongers, barbers, publicans and coffee merchants. They’re all closed at this hour, but still alive somehow.

7am along Reguliersgracht, the famous canal of seven bridges.

26.

I knew I’d be called upon. That’s what I get for being social before the meeting. But it’s also what I want. What’s the point of being here if you don’t get up and speak? I can feel my heart thumping in my chest, imagine invisible grocery bags hanging from my hands, aware that sixty-plus eyes are on me. Then I start talking, and it’s all a bit of a blur.

27.

We stand front of a big shiny department store on the city’s prime retail route, a street named after a medieval cattle mart. This particular spot is where Amsterdam was born, why it first became famous. There was once a shrine here, to which pilgrims flocked from far and wide, looking to absolve their sins. Now people pass by oblivious, on their way to the red light.

28.

Sunday is my day for getting organized. I have a checklist to run through: update apps, pay credit cards, inbox zero, review notes on iPhone, clean up desktop, check calendar, etc. There’s a deep sense of calm that comes from having a place for everything and everything in its place. And from simply taking time to think and plan ahead.

29.

Always lots of dogs in the park, taking their owners for a walk. I saw a beautiful wolf-like breed there today, a big powerful animal. I watched as he ran past several miniature dogs, the kind you’d expect to see in a handbag, all growling in a fluster. He was a major deal to them, his presence insistent and intimidating, while to him they were invisible.

30.

Three weeks until I release a guide I’ve been working on since October, teaching people how to work online and travel the world. I’ve perused similar guides as research and my biased brain is convinced I have them trumped. Working hard on the launch plan now, but I know the real work comes after, ensuring buyers’ dreams come through.

Home gym.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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The Pursuit Of Happier

Recently I watched a TED Talk about infidelity. To quote the speaker:

“We used to divorce because we were unhappy. Today we divorce because we could be happier.”

This applies to more than marriage.

It seems happiness isn’t good enough anymore. No, we have to be the happiest that we can possibly imagine ourselves to be. (Or at least happier than all our pseudo-friends on Facebook.)

Of course, thinking that way just makes us unhappy.

I’m becoming more conscious of such thoughts in my own head. Earlier this month, on the hunt for an apartment here in Amsterdam, I quickly found a good deal on a nice place but was hesitant to commit to it.

I caught myself thinking, “What if something better comes along?”

Not a bad question to ask yourself, but a terrible one to dwell on. After all, there’s always something better out there. There’s always a nicer apartment that can be had for a better price.

But keep chasing and you’ll never be satisfied.

We get caught up in this same pursuit when making plans with other people. Tim Kreider has a name for it:

Plan shopping: deferring committing to any one plan for an evening until you know what all your options are, and then picking the one that’s likely to be the most fun, or advance your career, or have the most girls at it. In other words, treating people like menu options, or products in a catalog.

I recognized myself far too much in that description when I heard it a few months back. I’ve since been making a conscious effort to quit shopping around for the best possible option, instead allowing myself to commit to options that are merely good.

The trick is to catch yourself asking, “What if something better comes along?”

Drop that and replace it with, “Will this make me happy?”

There’s no simple answer to that first question, and so you find yourself tormented and dissatisfied. But the second question demands a binary response: yes or no.

Just to clarify, I’m not saying you should settle easily. It’s healthy to weigh your options and strive for bigger and better things. And in some areas (like business), it’s smart to pass on the good opportunities so you’re free to tackle the great when they come along.

So of course, be selective. But not so much that you sacrifice a certain happiness for a potential happier.

Momentos: June 1st – June 15th, 2015

1.

It’s been a long day. And beautiful. I awoke to a full moon and a quiet house in Ireland, and now, 24 hours later, I’m in Amsterdam, falling asleep to the flicker of candlelight and the sound of rain on the rooftop. Through every interaction today, I’ve felt this city opening its arms to welcome me, saying yeah, this is where you should be, come on in and stay a while.

2.

I wash the dishes before I go. Only fair, since she did the cooking, and I like to imagine how she’ll smile and think of me when she gets home. That done, I let myself out and wander east through the bicycled streets, across bridges and along canals, catching a few familiar sights and letting the fond memories linger. Maybe the rain will come again, but I don’t care.

3.

I knew that guy was lying to me. He maintained strong eye contact, and his story sounded reasonable, but I just knew. He stole that bike, and then he tried to sell it to me. I knew that, and I still bought it. And I have all kinds of justifications for buying it — if I didn’t someone else would have, etc. — but if I’m honest, I wish I’d had the presence of mind to just walk away.

4.

She wouldn’t give me a discount on the rent, but the important thing is I asked. I tried. It’s never the failure that gets you. It’s the not trying, the giving in to resistance. You’ve got to battle that shit anew every day, because it keeps resurfacing. So anyway, I paid the asking price and moved in today. I now live in Amsterdam. Indefinitely.

5.

How she looked this morning by the window, all aglow with the early sunshine and something else there too, something inexplicable. That was a moment that will last me forever, memory unforgettable. And I wish I could be satisfied with more of that, more of her, and nothing more. I wish that was all I wanted, but I don’t think it is.

Arriving in Amsterdam

6.

Amsterdam has a character all its own, a city chock full of uniqueness. Little independent cafes and second-hand furniture stores and quirky bicycles and miniature buildings made big. Every second view is a postcard, every second girl distinctly beautiful, every second dude your best friend in another life. I’m grateful to be here, every second.

7.

FB message: “Soooo I have a friend going to Amsterdam sometime this month and she is looking for people to hang out with. She’s super hot and really an all-around kind and fun girl. She is traveling with another female friend of hers and probably wants to have fun and get into some trouble. Want me to put you in touch?” Call me crazy, but I said no thanks.

8.

Today was a day I’d been looking forward to for months. I got a ton done without feeling rushed. This, my friends, is the luxury of routine. A week deep in Mokum and I’ve got a good one going. I read for more than an hour today, got a decent workout in, meditated, took a nap, spent solid time on personal projects, and put in four hours of client work.

9.

I have a sanctuary now, a place to retreat and recuperate, light some incense and listen to Nina Simone while cooking up a good meal. They say extroverts feel energized from being around people, while introverts feel drained. If that’s true, I definitely lean towards the latter, and so these quiet evenings alone in my apartment are something akin to bliss.

10.

I’ve been working on a product to sell via the blog for several months now. It will be a bundle of guides about how to live a travel lifestyle and work online. I was aiming for a June 30th launch but a marketing-savvy friend took a look at my launch plan today and highlighted plenty of room for improvement. So pushing the date back to July 14th. Lots to do before then.

Sarphatipark (aka my gym in Amsterdam)

11.

Sarphatipark before seven, sun just starting to sneak through the trees. I see the same family of ducks there at the pond every morning, two big and five little, glimpsed bright green wings on the wind yesterday, wonder if I’ll see them again today. I settle into a stretch routine on the grass, alongside words of strangers telling me what they want to do before they die.

12.

I’ve never paid for sex and I’ve never smoked weed (yet), but I like that those things are decriminalized here. The way I see it, drugs and prostitution happen in every city in the world, but mostly underground and down dark alleys where bad shit is more likely to happen. The Dutch seem to have a more mature approach to vice.

13.

Breathing in the memories of Leidseplein, watching characters come and go, trying to notice things nobody’s noticed before. I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes. Chances are this girl won’t show. And I’m okay with that. There’s no feeling of disappointment, no feeling of worthlessness, just acceptance of what is. I’ll go home, watch a movie, and call it a perfect day.

14.

Basketball. Still love it. Catching up on NBA clips on YouTube is a daily delight, makes me feel like a kid again. And I still love to play. Found a good scrimmage this afternoon in Oostpoort and went for ninety minutes full-court. I’m more aware out there than I used to be, can see gaps and cutters a younger me would have missed. Must try make this a weekly thing.

15.

I’ve noticed myself getting tight when I’m deep in a work session, shoulders tense, teeth sometimes clenched. Probably not good to sit for hours like that at a time. So today I set an app on my phone to buzz every five minutes as a reminder to breathe and release. Hopefully that will train me into a more relaxed posture while cranking away at the laptop.

Street performers in front of the famous I Amsterdam sign.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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Momentos: May 16th – May 31st, 2015

16.

Twas a rough night sleeping across two seats on the ferry, but I’m awake at the crack and giddy like a kid at Christmas. Today is the day, three and a half years in the making. I go up on the top deck and find it empty. The helicopter pad becomes my dance floor, the wind my music, the rising sun my spotlight, and I dance the dance of a very happy man.

17.

Ran into an old school friend in the supermarket. He married a nice hometown girl, works a steady job, raising a kid or two. And I see on Facebook that the girl I dated here several years ago is getting hitched soon. An alternative life flashing before my eyes, the path I chose not to choose. But I think I could have found peace on that path, too.

18.

I’m exhausted, took a ninety minute nap today despite solid sleep the past few nights. I think I need the down time, though it’s always a challenge for me to unplug completely. It’s not in my genes to sit around and do nothing. But I’m trying to keep the work stuff at bay and be okay with wiling away a few unproductive hours at home.

19.

Still lonely, longing for deeper chats and intimacy, but it’s easier knowing that I’ll be starting a new life soon, one which won’t involve faces and places changing quite so rapidly. Instead I’ll be building foundations, investing in friendships, relationships, community. It won’t happen overnight, I know, but it will happen. I’ll put in the time.

20.

It’s interesting that people keep asking what’s next, what’s next, what’s next. I just got done traveling around the world for 44 months, give me a chance to catch my breath! At the same time though, I know they’re just echoing the thoughts in my head. And many of those thoughts are about Amsterdam. My new life starts there in eleven days.

The green green grass of home: arriving in Rosslare on May 16th.

21.

It’s easy get excited by business ideas. I’ve been obsessing on one this week, thinking it’s a no-brainer, that people would be mad not to buy in. But it’s all in my head so far. I haven’t talked to any potential customers. I’m actually stalling on doing just that, because I like this excited feeling, and real-world feedback might extinguish it all too soon.

22.

We just left a one-man show about an Irishman who explored the Antarctic a century ago. The light is fading on a Friday evening in Cork, and the city’s vibrant as ever. We bump into a friend of my cousin and stop to chat about strong dogs and improv comedy and lying down in department stores. There’s a homely feel about all this, something I’ve been missing.

23.

Our conversations are long and rambling and range from the deep and philosophical to the silly and immature. I’ll share one topic we dove into today, that being a question on evil: Does it exist beyond humans, or is it purely a human concept, a label we apply to things we don’t like or understand? Can a wolf be evil, for example? Or a hurricane? Or a mountain?

24.

There was something that man said today that struck me as profound, and I remember thinking as he said it that I should try to remember what he said so I could write about it later, but then he kept talking and I kept thinking and between the trying to listen to the new thing and trying not to forget the old thing, it wasn’t long before I’d lost it all.

25.

I walked into seven businesses today, off the street, out of the blue, and tried to learn what I could about their online marketing. It was a lot like approaching and hitting on women. Some interactions went well, some went poorly. The trick, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, is to go from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.

The view from my grandmother’s house in Ireland.

26.

Today was lots of face time with cool people, just sitting and chatting. I bought a friend lunch, another friend bought me dinner. I took some scary business action, made some money and learned a few things. I sat in the sun and drank coffee and read a book. It was one of those perfect days, the kind we dream of having but too often fail to appreciate when they come along.

27.

Another alternative life flashed before my eyes today, as I was down on my aunt’s farm, nine acres of beautiful countryside with an old mill and a shy stream and all kinds of birdsong. Part of me longs to work the land, to plant and grow and shape a landscape. Maybe build a big outdoor gym, a spartan-style obstacle course, cabins and camping grounds, too.

28.

I walk out of there thinking the meeting could not have gone better. Exactly the kind of business — and the kind of people — I’d like to help. Now that we’ve shaken hands and I’ve a foot in the door, all I have to do is boost their sales, leverage that success to sell others on the same service, scale the bejesus out of it, and reap the rewards. Simple, right?

29.

My grandmother was born in the house she still lives in. She grew up riding horses and fetching water and leaving bicycles unlocked in public places. All her schooling was in Irish and she remembers the priest calling to the house to give you a scolding if you skipped mass of a Sunday. In her cupboard there’s an envelope full of postcards a grandson sent her.

30.

Having spent the past two weeks living back home and visiting family, you might have expected me to write more on that topic, but my family is quite private you see. While I’m happy to be very transparent about my own life online, I try to respect the fact that not everyone likes having their words and deeds written about on the Internet. (Pretty sure my gran won’t mind though.)

31.

It’s 3:08 am and there’s the sound of a clock ticking and keys tapping but nothing else. The countryside is dark and quiet. I doubt there’s another person awake for miles. The past two weeks have been like the slow turn of a page, and now comes a new chapter. It begins with a giant flying machine rocketing me towards the land of tulips and windmills.

Packing for Amsterdam.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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Make It Sacred

A bit of context for this post: I wrote it six months ago while traveling, but the same thoughts are very much on my mind lately as I get ready to move to Amsterdam and make business-building my priority for the foreseeable future.

…

It’s almost midnight as I’m writing this, on a Saturday night in Panama City. I began the day before sunrise on a sailboat in the Caribbean, could barely sleep a wink last night, seas were rough.

And now I’m about to fall asleep at the edge of the Pacific. I’ve crossed a whole country today, taken two buses and tried three different digs before ending up in this hostel I’m in, easily the worst I’ve ever stayed at — grungy showers, blocked sinks, busted mattresses — but everything else in this town was full so I had no choice.

I hadn’t showered in almost a week. I’m tired. I just want to close my eyes and shut out the sight of this shitty dorm room and go to sleep.

But I can’t.

Because I have to write for thirty minutes.

I have to write because not writing will cost me $1,000.

You see, I made it sacred.

I meet once a month with this Mastermind group I’m in, meet online and set goals. Goals that will make a big positive difference in our lives. My latest was to get back to writing regularly. I have to do at least thirty minutes a day and send a screenshot of my writing alongside a timer to the group.

If I miss so much as a day, I have to pay the group $1,000, to distribute as they please.

I was on that boat for five days, crossing the Caribbean from Colombia to Panama. And you best believe I wrote at least thirty minutes a day on there.

I had to.

I made it sacred.

This is why I’ve yet to succeed at the software business. I haven’t made it sacred. Success would be nice, but it’s not necessary.

Or rather, I haven’t made it necessary.

In fact, for the past three years or so, you could say that about my work life in general. Success hasn’t been necessary. I’ve been content just to scrape by.

But that’s coming to an end. It’s why I’m cutting short my trip, aiming to settle in one place for at least a year come June. I’ve got to make this work stuff sacred. Office hours. No bullshit long lunches or afternoon coffee with friends.

Make it sacred.

Just to be clear: I’m not saying you can’t succeed without making it sacred.

I blame my travel lifestyle for holding me back work-wise, but there are plenty of people out there who manage to travel like heroes and still thrive in the business world.

Good for them.

But I’m not talking black or white here. I’m talking about stacking the deck in your favor. Mine too.

And to do that, I need to make the work sacred. Just like I’ve made my writing sacred these past few weeks.

For you, maybe it’s something else.

Maybe it’s getting in shape. Maybe that’s a struggle for you.

Well ask yourself: have you made diet and exercise sacred? Have you made it absolutely necessary that you succeed? Or would it just be nice if it all worked out?

Nice isn’t good enough. You have to make it sacred. No “just this once” as you pass the donut shop. No skipping workouts because it’s raining out, or because you were out late last night, or because you have a bit of a headache.

Get your ass up and moving. Order the fucking salad.

Make it sacred.

Maybe you want to learn a language. But do you really want it or just kind of want it?

I’ve only kind of wanted it for the past few years. My Spanish isn’t near as good as it should be given that I’ve spent several months living in Spanish-speaking countries.

Why?

Because I haven’t made it sacred. I haven’t gone out of my way to have regular speaking practice. I haven’t hired a personal tutor. I haven’t done a whole bunch of things that would have put me way ahead of where I am now.

Making it sacred means cutting out a bunch of other shit. You have to choose. You can have anything you want in life, but you can’t have it all at the same time.

There’s a story about Charlie Munger, one of the richest men in America. An employee came to him asking for help. Charlie asked the guy to write out the ten things he most wanted to accomplish in the next ten years. “Write them out and prioritize them, one through ten.”

The guy did and came back with the list. Charlie took it, circled the top three and said, “Focus on these. Forget the rest.”

That’s not easy. But that’s how you really succeed at something.

You make it sacred. Cut the fluff and focus.

My thirty minutes are up. I kept it sacred, made it another day.

Let’s do it again tomorrow.

Momentos: May 1st – May 15th, 2015

1.

When people ask which is my favorite place I’ve been, I answer that my two favorite cities are Amsterdam and New Orleans. But after just two days in Barcelona, methinks I’ll be adding it as a third. I could get lost in these gothic streets for years, eating tapas, admiring stone, wiling away afternoons in hidden coffee shops, spots of sun sneaking through the leaves of plane trees.

2.

I’ve given up the chase. I’ll still approach and escalate, but I won’t make it my main thing. Gonna focus on hobbies and friendship and let things unfold naturally, no forcing. With this decided, I’m at peace passing beautiful women on the streets, chatting with attractive ladies at the hostel. No pressure. No wanting. Just breathe.

3.

Fourteen-bed dorm. Everyone was out last night, except me. I stayed in, read a bit about Winston Churchill, watched a movie. It’s eight a.m. now and the room feels hungover, one dude snoring like a bear, one chick comatose with her tits out. I lace em up and hit the streets running, park-bound in the morning sun, beneath parakeets and palm trees and balconies.

4.

I’ve been testing out a new set of food rules for myself. They’re pretty detailed. I have a points system now, deducting points for eating certain foods. The goal is to average 9/10 or better for six days, then reward myself with a cheat day. It’s going well so far, but the system needs battle-testing the next couple of weeks on the road before I call it a keeper.

5.

Wandering these narrow streets, looking for a coffee shop. I find one and knuckle down for a work session, only to find they have the worst wifi in the history of mankind. Ah well, guess I’m not supposed to work right now. I kick back and read a bit, scribble on some postcards, finish a sudoku. Been thinking lately that feeling unrushed has a lot to do with happiness.

Back in Europe! Posing in front of the Arc de Triomf in Barcelona.

6.

I may have spoke too soon about giving up the chase. Met up with a friend today and we walked around and did a few approaches. Had some fun interactions, got one number. I think there’s a balance that can be struck, knowing when to face the fear, and when to let go. I don’t want to be rubbernecking, nor do I want to be completely passive.

7.

Wrote my own press release earlier this week and sent it to a bunch of media contacts in Ireland. That led to a Skype interview today. Three things I’m aiming for: get some traffic to the site; inspire a few people to chase their own crazy dreams; and remind myself of what I’ve accomplished these last few years, people met, adventures had.

8.

Comfortable silences. Working on those. Just met this girl at the hostel, enjoying her company all evening, but trying to resist the urge to jump in and fill every lull in the conversation. I see if I can just sit there and be at peace with the silence, wait until she has something else to say. Next I’ll need to add more eye contact and easy smiles.

9.

My last night in Barcelona. I used to like the feeling of leaving town, but not so much anymore. Three weeks from now, when asked the question, “How long are you here for?” my reply will feel like apple pie, all warm and sweet inside, a one-word answer preceded by a contented sigh: “Indefinitely.”

10.

Daft Punk on my mind as I wait to board a bus bound for Paris. Who knows when I’ll take another overnight. I flash back along the trail as I sit here, to other stations I’ve sat in, people watching, patiently waiting. Bucharest, Tehran, Luang Prabang, Managua. These buildings have been good to me. So have the journeys in between.

Hanging out with friends in the glow of the Eiffel Tower.

11.

Paris, France. The weather is beautiful here today. I break a 27-hour fast and take a quick nap at the hostel, then head to the park to do some stretching and save myself $1k. On the grass between an old clock tower and a man-made lake, couples cuddle and kids play. Regular people going about their lives, while I’m just passing through.

12.

Got a taste of it today: that feeling of community. Met up with friends and we spent the evening sitting by the Seine, basking in the sinking sun. The riverbanks were packed with people, some working out, some having a drink, laughs and smiles all around. There was a magic feel about the place, social circles interweaving like a venn diagram all massive and merry.

13.

I sometimes wonder if it’s just me or is every guy constantly sizing up every woman he meets, asking himself, a) would I want to get jiggy with her? and b) what are the chances she wants to get jiggy with me? Even when I decide to just have a nice platonic time with a girl, those thoughts are always there lurking in the back of my horny man mind.

14.

The conversation’s getting good, and seems like L really needs to be heard, so I forget about catching the last train back to the hostel. Worst case scenario, we can both crash here at A’s place. I make it sound like no big deal but that’s actually a big win for me: letting go of the original plan in favor of the moment, just sitting and being there for a friend.

15.

Watching a red sunset from the deck of a ferry heading out of Cherbourg. Tomorrow I’ll be home, 44 months and 37 countries after setting out. I’ve come full circle, completed the loop, done something few people ever have or will. And it’s all a bit overwhelming right now, many a memory vying for a good spot in the lane. I’ll let them sort themselves out, and just enjoy the view.

The last sunset of a 1,324-day journey.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

« Previous Momentos | Comments

Wake

A few months back, after stepping off a sailboat from Colombia to Panama, I met a man in the coastal town of Portobelo. His name was Jack, and he ran a hostel there. Jack is in his sixties now. He has the air of a man at peace with himself.

Things were different fifteen years ago. Jack was vice-president of a big chemicals company in the United States. He was over-worked and out of shape. Eventually he ended up in the hospital having open-heart surgery. He healed well, but the ordeal was a wake-up call.

Jack quit his job and bought a sail boat. He took that boat around the world, stopping off at more than fifty countries along the way. Then he settled in Panama and opened several small businesses.

Jack told me about his circumnavigation. “You have to cross your wake,” he said, referring to the disturbed flow of water left behind a moving sail boat. “It doesn’t count until you cross your wake.”

I write this on the ferry from Cherbourg to Rosslare. It’s been 44 months since I set out from Ireland, in my own attempt to circumnavigate the globe without flying.

Jack took one sailboat. I’ve taken 99 buses, 82 trains, 70 taxis, 27 ferries, 21 tuk-tuks, 10 cars, 7 motorcycles, 3 bicycles, 3 cruises, a sailboat and a cargo ship.

Later today I’ll be home, my trip at an end, my wake having been crossed.

T.S. Eliot once wrote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

I don’t consider this day to be the end of all my exploring, but it’s certainly the end of a significant chapter of my life. I expect I’ll get a sense of what T.S. was waxing on about these next couple of weeks back in Ireland.

The word “wake” has another meaning of course, especially where I’m from.

When an Irish person died back in the day, the body would be kept on display at their house until the burial. Friends and relatives would sit around and tell stories and drink copious amounts of alcohol. It was more a celebration of the life of the deceased than a mourning of their passing.

The past week, traveling up through Spain and France, I’ve been doing a few interviews with newspapers and radio stations back in Ireland. In that wake-like way, it’s keeping my thoughts focused on the joys of a journey gone by when it’s all too easy to get caught up in what comes next.

My cousin once told me about a friend of his in Cork. Back in the 80’s, with all the invincibility of youth, this friend took off cycling from Ireland to Lapland and then all the way down to Sudan. He told my cousin that it wasn’t until years later that he fully appreciated that journey and how it had shaped him.

When you see the word “wake”, you also think of awakening. The last 3.5 years have certainly been that for me.

Having traveled through some of the poorest parts of the world, I’m much more appreciative of the fact that I was a lottery winner at birth, lucky enough to be born a white male to good parents in the Western World, and thereby endowed with more privilege than the vast majority of people living on this giant space rock.

Try being a black man looking for a date in Bangkok, or an Asian-American trying to get a job teaching English in Busan, or a little old Iranian woman trying to move to the front of the line in Bandar Abbas, or a dark-skinned girl in Bombay. Then try being any of those people with shitty parents and little education.

Also, moving through 37 countries in 44 months will give you a different perspective on family and community. In some ways I’m more independent than ever, in other ways less. I’ve endured severe bouts of loneliness the last couple of years, and now want nothing more than to stay in one place for an extended spell and make relationships a priority, to spend significant time with a small group of close friends and laugh and cry together like only good friends can.

You may know that I broke my no-fly rule one time these past 3.5 years. Last August I flew round-trip from Rio to spend a week in Ireland, surprising my dad for his 60th birthday. I hadn’t seen him in three years. If you ask what’s been my favorite memory from this long, crazy trip around the world, I’ll tell you that it’s not the kindness I experienced in Iran or going trekking in the Himalayas or crossing the Pacific Ocean on a cargo ship or any of the other countless adventures I’ve had along the way.

No.

It was ringing the doorbell of my childhood home that August afternoon and seeing the look in one man’s eyes.

A friend once wrote to me that he realized not long after his son was born and his father passed that life is really all about spending time with the people you love. I think we all nod and agree when we hear that but few of us feel it in our daily bones and structure our lives accordingly.

Despite what I’ve written above, let me assure you that I don’t have any regrets from the past 3.5 years. I think regret is a silly thing. We look back and think, “Things would be better now if only I’d done this or that differently,” but there’s every chance that things would be worse. Who’s to know?

Through all my travels and experiences, I’ve become a different man, and I’m quite fond of that man, at peace with the path he chose and where it’s led.

Yes, there are definitely downsides to long-term world travel, some obvious and some less so. I’ll likely write more about them another time. But I hope my mention of such won’t put anyone off pursuing their own big dream, travel-related or otherwise. You lay down a bedrock of self-assurance and self-respect when you take on a big dream and don’t quit until you capture it. Whatever else happens afterward, you can always look back with pride on what you accomplished, your heart kept warm with the memories.

Anyway, I’ll stop there for now.

I’ve crossed my wake, my eyes are open, and I’m finally home.

I Met A Man In Isfahan

First in Dublin, as I was heading out the door, an old teacher bought me dinner, appearing as he never had before.

I met a man in Durham, also working on a dream. Not long after he took the leap. He’s now in Medellín.

I met a girl in Amsterdam, and I can’t forget her eyes. We laughed and we kissed and we rode our bikes, beneath those clear Dutch skies.

I met an old school chum in Frankfurt, and he hosted me for a spell. We talked of change and adventure, and how to live life well.

I crashed with a couple in Zurich, friends from conscious growth. I wish I’d stayed in touch more since, kind as they were both.

Off the train for a cold day in Vienna, and I gave a CouchSurfer a shout. We had coffee in a house named after Albert, but I forget what we talked about.

I met a man in Hungary, who’d had quite the fascinating quest. Broke just a year before, he’d built himself a fine nest.

I met a girl in Romania, whose secret I promised never to reveal. The story was written and ready to spread, but my conscience kept it sealed.

I met a man in Istanbul, who soaped me up and spun me like a top. He flashed a grin and asked for a tip, when the bath had finally stopped.

I met a man in Isfahan, with a heart as big as the Kavir. Quick to dance and offer a hand, and even shed a tear.

I met a girl near Sharjah, the day after I turned three-oh. I took a leap and won her fair, but finished like a schmo.

I met a man in Delhi, and asked if he liked his job. “I feed my family and work inside, what is there not to love?”

I met a lady in Kathmandu, who sold handbags on the street. She wore me down and I gave her cash, but her days stayed stuck on repeat.

I met a man in Kochi, three nations shy of them all. That historic feat he did achieve, while helping me cross the Bengal.

I met a man in Colombo, a reader of the blog. We walked around and saw a big elephant, chained to a little log.

I met a girl in Bangkok, like none I’d met before. We climbed and explored and fell in deep. Her I still adore.

I met a man in Cambodia, with his belly hanging out. He told me the bus would be there on time, but I was right to doubt.

I met a girl near the Mekong, and she got frisky with her paw. I grew red and backed away, because in Laos it’s against the law.

I met two girls in Hanoi, and they took me around the town. With all the traffic on those mad streets, twas a miracle we weren’t knocked down.

I met a man in Nanning, and he invited me out to feast. We went for the famous hot pot, and I ate the schlong of a beast.

I met a woman in Hong Kong, who taught us how to fight. She showed us a dozen ways to escape a choke, when a couple would have sufficed.

I met a girl in Chongqing, it started sweet but grew absurd. Within twelve hours of meeting, she whispered three little words.

I met a girl in Busan, and she was great company. We met again another time, but we should have let it be.

I met a man in the Pacific, a member of the crew. He’d stop and think for a second, when you asked him “How are you?”

I met a man in Cusco, a schoolboy I’d once known. He’d built a business beautiful, a home away from home.

I met a man in Bolivia, when I was very short of breath. He drove me to the hospital, and I stayed away from death.

I met a girl in Salvador, who fell into my lap. If her father knew what we were doing, I would have felt his wrath.

I traveled with a girl through Venezuela, the best travel buddy you could know. We laughed through the discomfort, of several buses in a row.

I saw a man in Colombia, blind and lame as he sang aloud. I’ll never forget how happy he looked, music lifting him to the clouds.

I met a family in Panama, sailing through paradise. We stopped and swam with fancy fish, and I saw a sunken sight.

I met a man in San Jose, who’d come to learn the talk. He’d previously been in China, where he’d built a nice handwerk.

I met a man in San Juan, fascinated by the brain. “For every thought you think,” he said, “it changes once again.”

I met a girl in Honduras, as we were bussing through. She might have wanted the same as me, but I was too scared to pursue.

I met a man in Antigua, who had his life planned out. “It’s not what you can add,” he said, “but what you can do without.”

I met a girl in Mexico, with colors in her hair. It wasn’t fear that got me that time. I just didn’t really care.

I met two men in New Orleans, and we did ten nights on the trot. Through some of them I felt like a champ, through others I was distraught.

I met a couple in the Atlantic, as I was planning my next step. “We know you from the blog,” they said. “We have also leapt.”

I met a man in Funchal, spending a day off of the ship. A thousand taxis on that rock, so we gave him a nice tip.

I met a man in Barcelona, working on his game. Just when I thought I’d packed it in, I wanted to do the same.

I met a girl in Paris, and she took me to see the sights. Fancy buildings and beautiful landmarks, but it was the company I most liked.

And now I’m on the ferry home, to the road I’ll say so long. Thanks to all I met en route, who made me feel like I belong. And to all who read my words and wished me well, thanks for following along.