2023 year in review

walking the path

There is a scene in the movie Lawrence of Arabia where one of the soldiers (William Potter) asks his Lieutenant (T.H. Lawrence) to light his cigarette.

Lawrence proceeds to strike a match and set Potter’s cigarette alight (as any good lieutenant would).

Mission accomplished…or so we think.

Rather than blowing out the match, Lawrence holds it out, looks around to make sure he has everyone’s attention, and then proceeds to pinch the flame between two fingers (without flinching).

Clearly amazed by the spectacle, Potter grabs a fresh match, strikes it, and tries to do the same.

As soon as his fingers touch the flame, however, he jumps up and exclaims, “It damn hurts!”

Lawrence, clearly amused by the spectacle, gets up and responds, “Of course it hurts.”

Potter retorts, “Well, what’s the trick then?”

To which Lawrence responds, “The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts.”

This scene “lives rent-free” in my head as the kids say. It does so for many reasons. Beyond just being a high-quality 60 seconds of cinema, the scene speaks to much of what I came to know, experience, and understand over the course of the last year.

I wrote a sentence in my birthday essay (back in August) that is some variation of, “Growing up is simply the process of realizing that clichés are true as hell.”

And while that’s not the quote I hope to be remembered for when all is said and done, it’s one I have continued to come back to over the past few months. It is profoundly un-profound. But more importantly, it’s pretty damn accurate (if I say so myself).

The fact that one can “realize” that something they “already know” is “true” highlights the practical limitations of intellectual knowledge. In a much broader sense, it speaks to the delicate interplay of knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. I recognize that the distinctions between these terms are arbitrary (at worst) and vague (at best). But if being arbitrary is the worst thing I do in this essay, I can live with that.

So, as the (self-proclaimed) arbiter of arbitrariness, I will (arbitrarily) define:

• “Intellectual knowledge” as that which we learn through consumption (be it through books, conversations, or other).

• “Experiential wisdom” as that which we learn through action (be it through failure or success).

• “True understanding” as that which arises when we have managed to attain and synthesize both intellectual knowledge and experiential wisdom for a given “thing.”

We can liken the process of gaining true understanding of a “thing” to the process of getting from point A (not understanding it) to point B (understanding it). And to successfully walk such a path between those two points, we need two things.

The first is our eyes, which allow us to see the path.

The second is our legs, which allow us to walk the path.

Intellectual knowledge serves as our eyes, allowing us to look where we are walking.

Experiential wisdom serves as our legs, allowing us to walk where we are looking.

Without the former, we would wander blindly.

Without the latter, we would stagnate eternally.

Over the course of this past year, I did my fair share of looking, walking, wandering, and stagnating (in no particular order). And while I certainly stumbled many times, I like to think that I came to know, experience, and understand a few things about myself and the world.

These “things” include, but are not limited to:

• People do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons (and generally feel justified in doing so).

• Beating your coworker 21 to 3 in ping pong at a team outing is not socially acceptable.

• Making quinoa is actually pretty easy.

• Mineral sunscreen is elite but doesn’t look that cool.

• Sometimes (often) I use humor as a defense against being vulnerable (I’m working on it).

• Fleece jackets and crocs are back (I now own both).

• Most people don’t actually want you to solve their problems, they just want you to ask good questions and (genuinely) listen to their answers.

• Film cameras are a very fun form of delayed gratification.

• Montreal is a vibe, but contrary to common lore, the locals do not actually wear berets.

• I am more likely to publish an essay by xx date if I have an agreement in place that requires me to pay my friend $100 if I do not publish said essay by xx date (hypothetically speaking of course).

• You’re allowed to make new friends after college.

• Sometimes, if you really love something, you should let it go and trust that if it’s meant to be it will come back.

• Tennis isn’t that hard if you don’t care how good you are.

• Refraining from saying things about someone that you wouldn’t also say directly to them is generally a good way to keep yourself out of trouble (socially).

• Weddings are really fun.

• Flagstaff in July and Seattle in September are special.

• Actually going to therapy is very different than reading books about people who are actually going to therapy.

• Tel Aviv sunsets (and falafel) “hit different.”

• The right thing to do is usually also the hard thing to do (which is pretty annoying).

• Baseball games go by way faster with the new pitching shot clock rule, but they are still the most boring sporting events to watch by a fair margin.

• No one ever goes back and watches the videos they take at concerts.

• Codenames is potentially the greatest game ever.

• I am way better at buying books than I am at reading them.

• Not speaking for 10 days straight is not as hard (or boring) as it sounds.

• Doing Iceland scenic rides on the Peloton while listening to Dirty Paws is the most effective way to channel your inner Walter Mitty on weekdays before work.

• Worrying is overrated.

• Vibing is underrated.

I will spare you the rest of the list. It includes a few other things that are some combination of more beautiful, sadder, and/or more frivolous than the items I already listed.

But before you can consider yourself officially spared of the rest of the list’s contents, there is one final thing that I came to understand this year:

• I tend to over-index on accumulating intellectual knowledge (learning) and under-index on accumulating experiential wisdom (doing).

Saying that I “tend” to do this is an understatement. I am a seasoned veteran—a future Hall of Famer. And while I am trying to be a better man, I don’t fault previous versions of myself for operating like this. The logic is actually pretty sound.

Past Jarreds didn’t want to start doing stuff until they felt like they really knew what they were doing. They didn’t trust themselves to decide how to act until they felt as though those decisions would be well-informed.

In a vacuum, it makes sense. But as a good friend likes to tell me, the only things that live in a vacuum are dust and crumbs. And unfortunately “becoming informed” is neither dust nor a crumb. So out of the vacuum we go.

The path to “becoming informed” can quickly become a (very) slippery slope. The slipperiness of the slope lies in the fact that the process of becoming informed (as with any process) begs the question of when the process has reached its conclusion.

In this case, the question would be, “How informed is informed enough?” And because information is (functionally) infinite, it is not reasonable to believe that anyone will ever know everything about anything (aka be “perfectly informed”).

The implication, then, is that there comes a point where we must make the decision that we are now “informed enough” and transition from the “collecting intellectual knowledge” phase to the “accruing experiential wisdom” phase.

From the “studying the path” phase to the “walking the path” phase.

From the learning phase to the doing phase.

From the “not doing the thing” phase to the “doing the thing” phase.

The challenge I have personally faced in this realm is that not doing things is typically a lot easier than doing things.

And although doing things tends to be a very worthwhile endeavor, not doing things is really easy. And in the battle between easy and worthwhile, worthwhile hardly stands a chance.

I have rarely failed spectacularly or gotten hurt in the process of consuming information. And since my biological needs are largely met with predictability and consistency, the path with the lowest likelihood of me getting hurt is generally the one that the primitive part of my brain (strongly) recommends to me (in the form of instincts).

This logic embedded in this approach is quite helpful for surviving (in 50,000 B.C.) but quite unhelpful for thriving (and/or vibing) (in 2023).

In the past, when I have found myself at a crossroads between listening to another podcast about doing a thing or actually doing the thing, I’m almost always instinctually inclined to choose the former.

These instincts are soundly rooted in biological mechanisms that have been fine-tuned over millions of years. But it’s been important for me to recognize that my instincts are not constraints. They are suggestions.

Often helpful ones, but not always.

In the past, I have failed to recognize that with the right combination of (1) the fear of doing stuff that might hurt and (2) the ignorance of the essential role that (painful) experiences play in the process of gaining true understanding, listening to a lot of podcasts can often feel like a perfectly reasonable substitute for action.

But as Tiger Woods said to a reporter who asked him if he had any advice for amateur golfers, sometimes you need to just “stop watching f***ing YouTube and go hit golf balls.”

While on the surface that is pretty hilarious advice, I think it’s actually pretty profound.

Watching YouTube videos of people playing golf can often feel like a worthy substitute for actually playing golf. It can feel like real progress. This is, of course (pun intended), not a golf-specific phenomenon.

Learning about doing things instead of actually doing things can feel like progress in any realm (I can personally confirm).

Broadly speaking, we are wired to obtain the maximum possible output with the minimum necessary input. We are wired to achieve the best possible results, but to do so using the best possible shortcuts—the best tricks.

In the context of navigating the world with a brain (and within a broader culture) that values this sort of approach, sometimes the real shortcut can be to reject the premise and stop looking for shortcuts in the first place.

The real trick can be to stop looking for tricks.

The problem is that, at an intellectual level, neither of those conclusions are very satisfying. Not looking for shortcuts does not feel like a shortcut at all. In the same way that not minding that something hurts does not feel like a trick at all.

They both just feel like roundabout ways of saying, “Just do the damn thing you have been trying to find a reason not to do and deal with the consequences.”

I have spent the last several years looking for tricks. As a result, I stand here today with (1) over-developed eyes (a fair bit of intellectual knowledge) and (2) under-developed legs (relatively bereft of experiential wisdom), without having walked as far (or as well) as I would have liked to (gained true understanding of various things in the world).

As I have come to learn over the last several months, it is one thing to know every cliché in the book. It is another to actually understand how true they may (or may not) be (spoiler alert: they’re usually true).

The former requires a well-curated Pinterest account. The latter requires a rolodex of life experiences (and also a well-curated Pinterest account).

Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be a true Lieutenant Lawrence and be able to (metaphorically) pinch the flame between my fingers without minding that it hurts. But I do think I can continue to contend with my instincts and pinch the match between my fingers even though I know it’s going to hurt.

There is only one thing more painful than learning from experience, and that is not learning from experience.

In some senses, this will be a personal endeavor, but in many senses it will not.

I have never been more keenly aware that although no one else can walk my path for me, others can still walk it with me.

Someone asked me a few months ago what I am most proud of in my life.

I hadn’t given the question much thought previously so it took me a few minutes to come up with my answer.

And ultimately, when the time came, I think my answer surprised both of us.

The thing that I was (and still am) most proud of are the people who are in my life.

The way most people have entered my life has been largely a product of luck, but I like to think that keeping them around has required (at least) a little bit of skill.

To everyone who not just helped, but was integral in making this year so special, I am incredibly grateful for your patience, generosity, love, forgiveness, and friendship.

Thank you all for putting up with me. I can’t imagine it’s always (or ever) easy.

I have never been more excited to continue to trudge through whichever twists, turns, and obstacles present themselves in the next year(s) to come, because I know I will be doing so surrounded by a truly amazing bunch.

And although many things have changed over the last year since I wrote my 2022 year in review, one thing hasn’t.

I still don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.