“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
“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
“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“.
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.
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 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
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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
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.
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.”
Adventure, big and small is out there. Sleeping in a Wigwam (like a teepee) on historic Route 66. Coming back from visiting the Grand Canyon National Park, we opted for a warm clean bed at the Wigwam.
Built in the 1950’s the Wigwam Motel rents to curious Route 66 travelers for $70 x night. Originally there were eight Wigwam Villages, now only three remain, two are along Route 66 Holbrook, AZ and near San Bernardino. Full history here.
From the Wigwam Motel: “The motel is a striking sample of Western Americana culture. It is the most prominent landmark in Holbrook and one of the most noticeable in Northern Arizona along Old Route US 66.
Many people remember the road trip adventures they took as children in the family car’s backseats along Route 66. Quite a few of these people return to Wigwam Village #6 to stay in the motel again. The nostalgia of yesteryear’s adventures brings them back and gives them a piece of Western U.S. culture they remember from their youth. Newcomers also enjoy the unique setting of the Wigwam Village. Children and adults alike are excited to sleep in a wigwam. A classic car display is present in the parking lot outside of the wigwam sleeping units.”
Ten rings later in the oak tree.
Radius etchings tell the truth of living forward.
Closer to fine.
Empty bedroom, not to dinner. Quiet deafening disappearance.
No search party assembled.
Empty wheelchair affixed for helium flight.
Unconvincing logic to limbic smells and sounds, “Was that her shadow-her cry?”
Hair clippers to mourn. The reminder of not fine.
Staggering, limping, walking, living again.
Ring seared chronicles of summer’s laughing, winter’s ruminating, spring’s living.
All the roots go deeper when it’s dry.
I wrote this poem to reflect my decade journey of learning to live forward from our daughter Hadley’s death in 2011. I envisioned a tree’s aging rings, each annual etching telling the story, some thick with growth, others thin but still standing. To live authentic and wholehearted, we embrace our humanity’s spectrum and remind our souls that God is with us and for us, even when.