Peaks and Valleys

I’ve found myself in somewhat of a dilemma the past few weeks as I prepare and send this newsletter. On one hand, I have the sincere desire and presumed responsibility to deliver meaningful insight and pragmatic perspective on what it's like to be creating something. On the other hand, life keeps putting circumstances in front me with a different agenda, leaving me with a feeling of inadequacy to deliver on that. But I suppose it’s like I learned in screen writing class years ago — write what you know.

That’s the approach I’m going with, flaws, struggles, and all. It's just where I am and I think that's what we like to call a differentiator;) I’ll do my best to weave the reality of my experience with the stuff that resonates across creativity and culture and hope that within that vulnerability you’ll get something worthy out of it.

I'm deferring my creator conversation until next week. As much as I love putting them together, they do take a little more time and I'm giving myself permission to acknowledge that when necessary.

Thanks for being here again.

I love mountains. I don’t think I could ever tire of them, even if I lived at elevation within their grandeur on or their doorstep in the foothills. It’s easy to say that while I live in central Florida, but I just know it to be true in my bones.

I've skied, snowboarded, hiked, camped, and fished across Colorado. I also worked on a dude ranch for a summer with 75 horses and thousands of square miles. I’ve mountain biked and hiked the Blue Ridge mountains. I’ve fly fished and white water rafted in the Appalachians. I did a Tough Mudder in Aspen. Hiked and camped the base of Mt Rainier. Two years ago I got to experience mountains abroad in Iceland and Norway. The biggest tattoo I have is a minimalist mountain range up my forearm.

A few weeks ago, we were talking with our good friend Jules about someone in life and she used a mountain metaphor that has stuck with me. This particular person's entire identity has been wrapped up in a singular aspect of life and she made the observation “It’s like they spent their whole life climbing a mountain, but then they turned around and realized they’re the only one at the top. Now they can’t figure out why and resent that everybody else picked another mountain.”

Damn. She absolutely nailed it.

A few weeks ago I wrote about the transformation of becoming something new. I got a handful of replies from people feeling they are also “in the (caterpillar) soup.” Part of that piece involved my diverse background of seemingly disparate experiences. Jumping tracks between roles and industries in B2B SaaS over the past few decades after graduating with a degree in Elementary Education.

What I didn’t even include in that was how immediately after I decided I didn’t want to teach, my first dream was to open a restaurant. That led to my newly married wife and I managing retail locations for a high end chocolate/dessert company and plotting with the owners that we'd move to Chicago to open one on Michigan Ave.

But then we decided to move to Florida instead (for a handful of reasons). There, I found myself waiting tables and working construction jobs while I went back to get my Associates Degree with a concentration in film. I wrote a screenplay. Worked on festival films. Directed a music video.

Then I started a digital agency doing client work across brand, web, and video. I created a clothing company concept and made a few prototype shirts in preparation for a Kickstarter. I’ve built furniture and taken up painting, either of which I could imagine making a life of. God knows if I had any musical talent I would have gone down that path at some point.

All the mountain experiences sound like exhilarating variety. But when it comes to the work experiences, schizophrenic seems more adequate. But that's only because I haven't achieved true success or longevity in any of them. Otherwise I could prob ably get away with "eccentric."

But alas, here I am at 46, a little over three months out from my most recent career crash out pivot and doing something new and uncharted yet again. Facing all kinds of headwinds, uncertainty, and the nagging question, “Am I climbing the right mountain?”

That's where it gets a little harder. Have I spent my entire life half-climbing mountains only to come back down and trek over to another one and start over? Is my story just a series of unfinished endeavors, and I have yet to experience a summit? Those questions have been doing a number on me.

Do I want to be like that other person though—the one who climbed to the top of their life’s only to realize they’d done it alone? Certainly not. Thankfully, I think we have more than just those two options.

The challenge I think sits at the root of this dilemma is tough to put words to. It looks like hard work, sounds like adaptability, but feels like fear. When you’re raised with an intense sense of responsibility, tireless work ethic, and a belief that any decision you make could very likely be the wrong one, it trains you for wearisome anxiety and second guessing everything. You go really hard because action is everything, and question direction later when it gets uncomfortable.

This mountain is too steep and gravely.

This one is too exposed to the sun on the climb.

This one has a storm coming over the horizon.

That one over there looks just right… better traverse back down and across the valley and start over.

As you can imagine, this gets exhausting. And at the stage in life where you’re supposed to be hitting your stride and finally getting ahead, it can become disheartening.

As I’ve become a veracious reader, many books I’ve picked up lately explore the idea that we experience life as a culmination of the experiences we’ve had and the things we learned by early adolescence. That we are either operating from a place of low energy/expectation and lack/scarcity. Another term for it would be contraction. The opposite would be operating from a place of highest intention, belief, energy, and abundance (also known as expansion).

I won’t elaborate on it too much because there's an entire newsletter on that topic alone. But it's worth pointing out the very real way it changes our journey. Old stories, narratives, and beliefs are powerful in shaping our current behavior (and in turn, reality). Maybe I’ve tried scaling so many mountains because I don’t believe I’m actually capable of reaching the top of any. Or because I internalize natural obstacles as personal threats and a reason to retreat. Maybe I’ve experienced so much time in the valley because I’ve been trained to think that’s where the safety is by not committing to a mountain.

Also key to this same reading is the awareness that we are not our thoughts, and not our emotions. We are the conscious being experiencing those thoughts and emotions, of which there are unlimited options.

There’s an unspoken assumption to the mountain illustration. In order to describe peaks and valleys, a broader perspective and awareness is required. One that can take in and understand the whole picture. That can see the difference between mountains and lowlands all at the same time. We’re the photographer. We’re the painter. We compose the piece based on where we point the camera or put pressure on the brush. While it sounds relatively simple, it is obviously not easy.

I suppose that much like the array of real-life mountain experiences keep me coming back for more, something similar (and probably subconscious) has been happening in my work. Maybe I've been experiencing so many terrain types as training for the mountain I'll eventually realize is "the one."

-Justin

I’ve only made brief mention so far of what exactly I’ve been working on. Here’s a little bit more background, and what my “plan” was leaving my job.

My wife and our good friend Jules co-own a large counseling center here in Orlando. I really enjoy everyone there and have seen multiple therapists as a client during different phases of life. It’s a very different environment and business than the ones I’ve been spending so much time in (and thus it’s appeal).

Over the past few years I started thinking of it more as a legacy business. One that I could join and help in brand new ways by increasing brand awareness, creating digital content opportunities, and expanding to into categories like “for business” and “for school” and even resources for new or solo counselors (eg. developing CEUs)

We built the concept of Chris Courses over the past few years, and my primary focus has been to grow it with additional content and marketing. We recently finished one for parents of ADHD children. We’re about to launch one for teachers, developed by a counselor who spent 20+ years in education. I’ve been developing the concept for an emotional literacy for leaders cohort with another counselor. My wife and I have started a course series on demystifying LinkedIn for therapists after seeing how nearly every counselor has little to no presence on that platform.

It’s a lot for having only been at it since April (after basically taking March as a mental health reset). So when you hear me describing challenges and headwinds, it’s really just all about how fast we can get traction and give me a shot at replacing my salary with more meaningful work. I love it. I love the people. I love the opportunity.

I’m currently working on a pricing structure change, a mobile app, adding communities and more. (Not to mention a much needed website upgrade for the counseling center)

I’ll share more as the story unfolds.