Reach for the stuff that’s real

A craftsman cobbler just resoled my fly fishing wading boots, and they’re ready for another “one hundred thousand casts.” The landfill was calling for them.

Our modern world has an insatiable appetite for new—version 6.0. Version 13.0, and it’s killing us and the planet we call home. This isn’t a post just about saving the world. It’s about the deeper drivers-what and who we value and how our hearts and souls are connected.

Allow me to share a cowboy tune from Guy Clark with you, and then we’ll reconvene.

I got an old blue shirt and it suits me just fine.
I like the way it feels, so I wear it all the time
I got an old guitar, won’t ever stay in tune
I like the way it sounds in a dark and empty room
I got an old pair of boots, and they fit just right
Well I can work all day, and I can dance all night
I got an old used car, and it runs just like a top
I get the feelin’ it ain’t ever gonna stop
Stuff that works, stuff that holds up
The kind of stuff you don’t hang on the wall
Stuff that’s real, stuff you feel
The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall
I got a pretty good friend who’s seen me at my worst
He can’t tell if I’m a blessing or a curse
But he always shows up when chips are down
That’s the kind of stuff I like to be around
Stuff that works, stuff that holds up
The kind of stuff you don’t hang on the wall
Stuff that’s real, stuff you feel
The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall
I got a woman I love, she’s crazy, paints like God
She’s got a playground sense of justice, she won’t take odds
I got a tattoo with her name right through my soul
I think everything she touches turns to gold
Stuff that works, stuff that holds up
The kind of stuff you don’t hang on the wall
Stuff that’s real, stuff you feel
The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall

Perhaps, the boots we have, the old car, the pretty good friend, and the partner we love are the stuff that’s real, stuff we feel. The kind of stuff you reach for when you fall.

Stay with the stuff that’s real. Resist the upgrade.

Keep going-

Aaron

“I can work all day and dance all night”
“I got an old used car, and it runs just like a top
I get the feelin’ it ain’t ever gonna stop”
“I got a pretty good friend who’s seen me at my worst
He can’t tell if I’m a blessing or a curse
But he always shows up when chips are down
That’s the kind of stuff I like to be around”
“I got a woman I love, she’s crazy, paints like God
She’s got a playground sense of justice, she won’t take odds
I got a tattoo with her name right through my soul
I think everything she touches turns to gold”

A good story is not a straight line

Intellectually I know this, “a good story is not a straight line.” In the beginning, I wanted to be a mountain guide, exploring the rugged blank spots on the map. Immaturity convinced me to avoid the world of business for fear of losing my friendship with the heart of God.
I side-lined my guide aspirations and started selling radio advertising commercials and playing at the park—home by 5 pm for family dinner and bedtime stories for the kids. The younger places in me could not see the good story being forged. All I thought I saw were zig zags.

Maybe you’re like me, and you want a foolproof plan to the result, the destination.

A plus B equals C.

Results in linearity, sequential, predictable outcomes, and only straight lines. For some, their five-year plan appears flawlessly executed. “This same some (apparently) forge through life with a plan, a map they chart by bolder stars. I, on the other hand, wake to mild confusion most days, not about the tiny aspects of self-respect such as brushing my teeth and paying my bills but more the big things like my destiny, etc.” (John Blase)

I’m no celestial navigator either, so I wake to surrender with radical acceptance the path marked for me (King David’s words below), as the poet David Whyte names “the pale ground beneath my feet.”

Decades later, inclusive of all my jagged lined, cliff jumps, plummets, high places, “unbroken lines” culminating in a good story worthy of a campfire—wholehearted, friends with God, accompanying clients into the frontiers of business and wilderness. I’ve been led.

Embrace your long way round. Embrace the zig zag lines, the setback and allow yourself to be led.

Keep going,
Aaron

Poem by John Blase, It Is Not So Much
David Whyte, Start Close In
Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow, “Unbroken Lines”

“You’re blessed when you stay on course, walking steadily on the road revealed by God. You’re blessed when you follow his directions, doing your best to find him. That’s right- you don’t go off on your own, you walk straight along the road he set.” 

-King David, psalm 119

Pierce the veneer of outside things

“We had pierced the veneer of outside things… We had reached the naked soul of men.”

— Ernest Shackleton, South

The veneer of outside things exists in polished half-truths. “I’m great. So busy,” we say, operating at seven thousand RPMs. Drop the busy merit badge. Pierce the veneer. Real connection, belonging, and community exists in the deeper textures. Be whole, be intentional, be on purpose. Reach the naked soul.

Keep going,

Aaron

Dream Bigger Dreams

“Disturb me, Lord, when I am too well. Pleased with myself when my dreams have come true because I have dreamed too little.” I’m wondering about these lines, asking myself, what are my new dreams? Not the vintage ones of yesteryear, but the bashful whispers too big to say aloud? Danger’s calling.

Keep going-
Aaron

Exploring winter’s edge the Brooks Range Gates of the Arctic National Park

What Can You NOT DO

“Vocation at its deepest level is. ‘This is something I can’t NOT do, for reasons I’m unable to explain to anyone else and don’t fully understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling.”

Parker Palmer

A generous, expansive invitation for us to consider what can we NOT DO. What’s the thing you find yourself doing, thinking, exploring without prompt or obligation? A friend shared with me that he “Can NOT” photograph bacteria. He discovered galaxies in his DIY Petri dishes, unable to stop himself, he’s documented his work in a children’s book for his daughters. I call that a “Good Amount of Weird“.

Compelled for reasons I do not understand

Palmer absolves us of the necessity of explanation. We need not attempt to have a sensible reason, even for ourselves. But paying attention to what and where I feel compelled, mysteriously thrust into, unable to resist.

I am compelled, for reasons I do not fully understand,

-help humans thrive

-recharge my mind and soul in the wilderness

-go first down unknown paths

-extract my interior life onto paper, pen, audio

-make maps like a cartographer documenting the topographic edges of the frontier.

Let’s close with another sojourner compelled to make maps for us to follow. “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Frederick Buechner

Where is your deep gladness?

Keep going,

Aaron

Write it by hand instead

Write it down. Don’t send a text, an email, a DM. Take out a piece of paper, tear out a page in a magazine, locate your favorite stationery in the back of your closet, and handwrite your thoughts, appreciations, birthday wishes, and good-byes.

Years ago, a friend of ours shared his homemade birthday card with me, “I make all of my cards.” I’ve never purchased a card since. Last month I scribed notes to dear allies in my decade-long grief journey, a letter written on a topographic map to a friend-of-a-friend’s daughter in a trauma recovery program.

Handwritten words create physical artifacts to reside in our lives, serving as reminders-we’re loved, we are seen, of who and how we want to be.

Live bravely and write it down to bring more life.

Keep going,

Aaron

My daughter wrote me this note on an old surfing journal to ask me if I wanted to camp out in our ’74 VW Bus in the parking lot of the new Chick-fil-A to get free food for one year.
On vacation I wrote these notes to our family and taped them to the front door of our beach condo reminding us to ask for help. The instigator of this note came after our son scraped our car pulling into the garage. 🙂

The world needs more wholehearted humans

I’ve got two quotes for you. “I wanted more than a job. I wanted deeper congruence between my inner and outer life.” Parker Palmer

The second quote, “The longest journey you will ever take is the 18 inches from your head to your heart.” Andrew Bennett

Friends, if we desire more than a job, our vocational existence becoming more than just showing up with butt in a chair for role call “present”.

And if we dare to dream beyond the transactional interchange of relationship, the mini-dramas and living small.

There is only one choice.

The courageous choice is to put your money down, buy the golden ticket of congruence, buckle up for the mysterious beauty and mess of discovering how to foster friendship of heart and head—cultivating a deep knowing of God as your friend.

It isn’t quick. There aren’t shortcuts, VIP lines to skip ahead, and there isn’t a finish line.

The world needs more wholehearted humans. Signup. Buy the ticket. Wear the T-shirt and get started living true.

Developing an Every Day Muscle

I’ve always wanted to be more consistent-stone cold, steady—the person who skips all of the fussing, excuses, and mini-dramas. I wished myself to be the guy who shows up, does the work; enough said. Instead, unfortunately, I’d often be the guy with a lengthy explanation of why I couldn’t, didn’t, or won’t. Here’s what changed.

Tiny Habits and Sobriety

At the beginning of COVID, I decided to run a life experiment, inspired by my son Holden and the work of James Clear. Three hundred fifty-seven days and counting, I’m growing an everyday muscle- habit streaking -by running a minimum of one mile every day. 365 here I come!

Atomic Habits, Clear’s book on tiny habits, caught my attention, giving validation to my question, “How can I just do it-stop the fits and starts?” Here are a few core ideas to his work, 

+Become 1% better over time, not tomorrow.

+Make the new habit so small you can’t fail. 

+Never miss twice.

+Root your new habit or practice in an identity statement, e.g., “I’m an everyday runner.”

Inspired by sobriety

Illuminated when my wife, Leith, counted up the number of days our son Holden remains sober, not drugging and drinking, over 2,000+ and counting. Reflecting on my own life and healthy habits, I felt confident I couldn’t even claim a daily teeth brushing habit streak for 2K+ days.

Alchemy enters. I realize that my everyday muscle was under-developed. I had some growing up to do in the world of action, choice, and purposeful living.

The Big Idea

How might I develop the muscle of consistency, without fail, on a tiny habit or new practice that I want more of in my life? What new momentum might I experience in other aspects of my life from starting small with running 1 mile (insert your desired new habit) by just doing it?

Update: I’m 357 days into my new habit streak, and I’ve become an everyday runner (identity). Catch that- my identity now includes a rooted practice of consistency. Notably, my health and fitness are improving, but even more importantly, I see how becoming 1% better, starting tiny, is a better way forward than fits and stops.

1-mile (so small I can’t fail).

Never miss twice (I use this habit tracker with a friend for accountability).

My identity now includes being an everyday runner, but at first, it was my aspiration.

1% better, I see how my overall fitness has increased, not by a lot, but daily.

How’s your everyday muscle? Maybe a tiny new habit or practice is what you need too?

Keep going-

Aaron

One of my favorite runs, longer than a mile, with friends Justin and Dave on the back side of Pikes Peak, Sentinel Point after the first snow.
Oil Well Flats beyond Canon City, CO stoked by the endless desert canyon-riddled vista.
Alex and Dole helping shake it up a bit with a Chug-N-RUN. Drink a beer, run one mile, repeat. Made for a fun winter microadventure.

Dispatch: Fly Fishing The Green in the Fall

Fly Fishing The Flaming Gorge of the Green River is like playing a round of golf on an epic course-tough shot, precarious and exhilarating. Be ready for a challenging game of fishing in the fall on the Green. Sure we met a few lucky bastards, skillful in landing hungry trout. We weren’t invited into their elite club, nor were 99% of the drift boats floating by with their dejected clients asking us “any luck”. Even the professional guides, at $500 per day weren’t landing trophy trout.

The Green River is guaranteed to always deliver on beauty, but there are no guarantees on dialing in the fly fishing. Each time I return to the Flaming Gorge, I vow to come back again to experience her. @thepathfinder and I followed our adventure nose down dusty roads and discovered more places to explore. Like The Gates of Lodore -5 day float (which I know almost nothing about). Here’s to curiosity and tracing routes in pencil.

The Green River is The Grand Canyon meets the Snake River maybe not exactly, but it’s otherness.
Although we didn’t set new records for the number of trout in our net, we did break in @Pathfinders Adventure van.
We scouted future adventures in the Dinosaur National Monument, The Gates of Lodore.

Play Unplugged-Live Music For Money in a Park

This really happened.

I convinced my brother that we needed to play impromptu acoustic unplugged live music in the city park in Santa Fe, NM. We’d just driven 2,700 miles across the desert southwest in our 1974 VW Bus and it was time to go out on a limb.

When was the last time you’ve done something ridiculous? I bet it’s been too long. Bang off the rust and go!

It reminds me of a great quote,

“The glory of God is man fully alive.”

Saint Irenaeus

Sometimes we need to jump, leap-off the couch of comfort, and into the wild places-past the caution signs and fear. Armed with a bit of tequila Santa Fe buzz, we unleashed our finger-picking, generously offering up a simple repertoire of brotherly riffs.

Instagram video @aarondmchugh “Truth be told we made $1 in tips on our first ever live park pickup jam acoustic unplugged session.”

Proudest moment Acoustic unplugged guitar pickup in old town Santa Fe