Breathe Deep

‘Breathe Deep’ is a chapter from my book, “Looking at Forty: A Most Meaningful Year”

I meditated today. It was part of an experiment that my wife and I are doing. As I mentioned before, we have been trying out new hobbies on our “date days.” This was part of that series, and I had no idea where we were going or what we would be doing until we arrived. We pulled into the location about 15 minutes early and sat in a driveway parking lot before we walked in. The location was a small old house that did not lend any clues to what we were getting ourselves into. I was not made aware that meditation was on the menu until we walked in the door and were met with pamphlets and the like. We also met the instructor and the others in the group who would be joining us. This was a unique set of individuals, to say the least. They numbered about seven or eight, including the two of us. They were very quiet leading up to the lesson, which I suppose is to be expected. Perhaps they were a little nervous, as most were trying this out for the first time. I would not use the word nervous to describe how I was feeling, but it was something along those lines. Meditation is something I had been wanting to try for some time, and it was exciting to finally go for it. 

The entire lesson lasted 40 minutes, which does not seem long. But I felt like that was the perfect amount of time for an intro into this world. The short timeframe allowed for focus on the important aspects of the lesson. The lesson included two actual meditation periods—or attempts—of ten minutes each. I thought the ten-minute window would be too long, but it actually was quite the opposite. During the first block, it took me a good three or four minutes to even have enough focus to attempt an actual meditation. I assumed it would be difficult, and it was. I felt like a dog that had been told to wait and stay while another group of dogs were running around playing. I always feel like there is so much I want to do with every minute of the day. That makes it difficult for me to do nothing for ten of those precious minutes. The second ten-minute session felt similar, but I was surprised how well it went for a novice such as myself. Even if I only came close to what could be considered meditation, for one or two minutes in total, the effort was worth it. If anything, it proved my expectations that this would be a difficult challenge. This sitting still and focusing while trying not to focus. I would say the sessions were taxing yet relaxing, which I understand may sound diametrically opposed to one another. 

When I was younger, I would have felt even more like that dog. I would have gotten up and ran around, disregarding the instructions to sit and wait. Come to think of it, I would not have found myself in that situation at all. First of all, I did not know what meditation was and why it might be beneficial to give it a try. Even if there were a hint of interest, I would not have shared that with anyone. I would have been afraid of a slight chuckle at my expense. To be fair, I would have been the chuckler if the shoe were on the other foot. In my younger days, I was not exposed to the various types of people who have embraced meditation as a life-changing experience. I would have stereotyped that crowd without ever realizing that successful and motivational individuals were in this group. If I did find myself in that small old house learning to meditate, I would not have given it a full and fair effort. I would have felt self-conscious of my attempt and appearance in that room, even though everyone in there was in the same boat. I would have turned it into an opportunity to joke and laugh about it later that evening. 

At 39, I can see the benefits. I am beginning to realize the importance of clearing the mind if even for a few fleeting minutes. If I never become a true practitioner of meditation, I will at least respect those who are and those who try to be. At 39, I will not laugh or chuckle or joke when I hear others discuss their meditation efforts. I will do quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. I no longer have that stereotype in my head when I hear the word meditation. I now understand that all types of people take advantage of the benefits of the practice. What I appreciated at 39 was the difficulty in this exercise. I experienced how tough it was to clear my mind, to sit still, to slow down. It seems like a task that should be easy yet falls far from that. 

The moral of this day was that it is never too late to learn, even if it’s something new that you must challenge yourself to do. Even difficult and uncomfortable things. I realize that meditation is not that scary in its own right, but it is new, and new things can push the border of being scary. I am glad I tried it. I have committed to trying it a couple more times to see if it will catch on and be a part of my life moving forward. Even if what I learn is that I do not receive any great benefits, then at least I know for certain. I can then move on without wondering if it could help me. Sometimes that alone, the ability to move on, is worth whatever time and effort you must put in to realize it. If anything, today gave me yet another experience to write about. I am trying to squeeze meaning and experience out of my 39th year. Today accomplished that for me. Sometimes the experience is all you can ask for.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Holding On

I have a strange habit. 

Sometimes I buy things and then do not use them, instead allowing them to sit and collect dust. I rarely purchase things, but many times when I do, I do not want that thing to go away. I’ll give you an example. My wife and I travelled to New Zealand back in April of 2018 (it is currently March 2020). While there, I bought a bottle of Havana Club rum- the real kind, from Cuba. This is something you hear about in the US, but you can’t actually purchase due to our relationship with the island nation.

This was not a big bottle, just a quick and easy 700 ml (which I found interesting as compared to the “normal” 750 ml). Within that first year I made a few cocktails with this rum. I even shared a little with a visiting friend who had also long wanted to taste this elusive beverage. But then, the bottle got down to about one-third full. That is when the use of this liquor ceased. It is a weird thing, me not wanting this rum to be gone. Why? I bought it to drink it, but I do not want it to leave. I want it to sit on our bar, seemingly so I can just look at it and feel good about owning it. 

I do this with many other things as well. If I have a favorite shirt, I never wear it due to fear of wearing it out- I have shirts that I love, hanging in my closet, tags still attached, a symbol of stubbornness. Same goes with a couple of hats I own. I also have favorite pens, and I do not like to actually use them. To see that ink disappear would be a terrible experience. This list could go on, but you get the point.

I can’t quite put my finger on why I do this. Does it have to do with holding on to something, whether it be to the past or the experience of purchasing these items? If I am somewhat certain I will do this, why do I buy these things in the first place, knowing they will not be used for their intended purposes? Why am I scared of having to throw away a pen, or a shirt, or an empty bottle of Cuban rum? Strange. I am sure other people do this as well, but I do it all the time.

There has to be something to this, so I will think on it and perhaps follow up. I find this curious yet interesting and wanted to get this out there. If you have thoughts on my strange habit, let me know what you think is going on in my mind. Also, let me know if you do this and what items you do it with. Perhaps we are all strange.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

A Travel Post- Patagonia

Patagonia Journal

This is a weird post, I know...but I wanted to share. 

Much like my last post about a trip to Michigan, I wanted to share my notes from a trip that my wife and I took to Patagonia for my 40th birthday. These entries were not in a “story” form, but in bullet points. I will share them exactly as they are. If I put a “(1st)” next to the note, it means that I believe this was the first time I did this particular thing. What a trip. Enjoy.

4/1/2019

• We’re in fu#$%!g Patagonia (1st)                                         

• EcoCamp is great

• Amazing food/wine

• Saw Guanacos (1st)

• Don’t forget Raymond- petrified wood, fossils

• Great stars

• Saw glaciers already

• Flamingos

• The group = me, Nat, Megan, Scott, Raymond, Heather, Kari, Dave, Beth/(Alberto & Caludio)

• Punta Arenas, cool town, cool dogs

• Puerto Natales

• Ate at La Luna

• Had beets twice in same day (1st)

• Cold & rainy, but not terrible

4/2/2019

• Saw a wild horse (1st?)

• 10 mile hike in the wind and rain

• Thankfully Raymond’s wife is alive- and famous for bees! (he was by himself, we were worried)

• Our 4x4 is stuck in the mud

• Talked to a lot of Chileans today

• Ate lunch in a field

• Saw puma poop (1st)

• Had Patagonian beer (1st)

• Fun, well- traveled group

• Weather is “miserable” (with a smiley face)

• Coffee w/ Bailey’s before our hike

• Worried about our dogs

• Chilean dinners = long with wine

• Bed time: raining hard, no electricity, no wifi/internet/phone...feels good

• Had eel (1st)...ehhh

• Haven't met a Chilean who wasn't nice

• Chapped lips

• Haven't thought about work more than 2 times

• Head lamps = clutch

• Played w/ outdoor puppies

• In camp, toilet paper goes in bins (1st)

• I can see why people love this region: challenging, beautiful...no snakes

• Good camaraderie today- people not taking the truck even though it is raining and cold

  • The outdoors brings out the best in people, and the best people choose to be outdoors

    • *I should write something about this- how we could all use more of the outdoors to bring people together

• Something about writing by little light/rain beating down/a few glasses of wine…

4/3/2019

• Kayaked in 0 degrees Celsius water today (1st)

• Saw an iceberg break off, had to paddle away very quickly (1st)

• Saw 3rd largest icefield in the world

• Skipped stones in a Chilean lake (1st)

• Spoke some basic Spanish

• Pisco sours/skipped a shower (I think I was going for a clever rhyme here)

• Shared tea w/ Chileans 100 ft from a glacier (1st)

• Forgot what day it was (positive)

• STRONG winds

• Icebergs = the bluest blue I have ever seen

• Tender lamb for dinner

• What a GREAT day- notes don't capture it

• 10 years, today, since I met Natalie

• End of rainbow

4/4/2019

• Sleep was tricky due to wind

• Weather has already changed twice in 1st 1.5 hours of the day

• Lots of coffee

• Biking today

• Saw a fox within 5-6 feet that had what I think was a bird in his mouth...he didn't care about humans, standing, waiting (1st)

• There was potential to see a puma today- driver saw 2 the evening before

  • Sat on a kill for a bit, with no luck (1st)

• Multiple rainbows, again

• MUDDY!

• This BBQ lamb lunch is what it is all about: us, Chileans and family, outside, tin roof, smoke, beer, wine, LOCAL (side note: I may write a post just about this event one day)

• The “Patagonian breeze” was brutal today

• Ate octopus (1st)

• Look up “Harlem River” song- heard it in EcoCamp bar...haunting (I prob had some wines in me)

4/5/2019

• Got within 2 feet of a fox, he was on the walkway to the restrooms- awesome

• PUMAS!- saw a mom and 2 cubs feeding on a dead guanaco, cubs were playing/running...it was awesome, one of the coolest things I have ever seen (1st)

• Saw some legit Gauchos (1st)

• Hiked: bridge was out, which was actually cool

  • Insane wind and rain, everything and everyone was soaked...sucked but awesome

• Put Claudio’s wipe-out video on a loop at EcoCamp dome bar

• Smoked lenga tree in my whiskey- awesome (1st)

• Played “guess my animal” game with Natalie

• Raymond told me he wasn’t going with us tomorrow- I’m bummed, but for good reason- tough hike and he has a…….pacemaker

  • He said his wife would be happier if he didn’t go

4/6/2019

• Last day in the “wild”

• Hike trail closed- bridge washed away, still went on a legit hike

• Best weather yet, still windy though

• Done early- kind of nice to have some down time on last day

• Wind literally blew snot out of my nose...multiple times

• Close fox in AM

• Need to get Glenn’s book into the “book trade”

• What time does the bar open?!

• Great night- laughs, jokes, etc.

• Grouper for dinner

• Claudio won an award for being the best guide in the region- well deserved

  • I talked sports w/ him...was interesting to get his take on American football- he likes it

• Week has been the best, but ready to get home, mostly because of the dogs

• Sun was finally out today, and that was good for all

• Laughter and camaraderie can be heard around camp, as new friendships were forged and old renewed...thanks to the outdoors (and no wifi)

• S. America changes times, but Patagonia does not

• Interesting how quickly cliques form, I suppose it is natural...Nat and I bridged the gap for the group this week (also included was a drawing of how we accomplished that)

4/7/2019

• Last full day in country

• Cruised back to Punta Arenas

• Great pizza for dinner, wine, champagne

• Saw killer whales (we think) from hotel room! (1st)

• Back to civilization, phone, internet- kind of good, kind of bad

• Love this hotel

• Dogs are safe! (we checked in finally)

• Found some sea glass for Aunt Phyllis

• Time, man

• Said goodbye to the group...mixed feelings...weird to think you will likely never see them again- I should be used to that (military)

• Travel is SO good, yet can be so exhausting

• May never see a guanaco again

• Claudio seems to have his dream job

• Leaving in the AM

OK, so there are my notes from an EPIC trip to Chile & Patagonia. Some likely did not make sense, hell some didn’t make sense to me. I tried to include some links so you can learn a little more about the things I mentioned. That trip should be on your short list, especially if you love the outdoors and getting away from reality. I hope you enjoyed this somewhat odd post!

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

A Travel Post- Visiting Michigan

(I came across an old entry into a “travel journal” that I keep. This particular one was about a trip to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I thought I would share…)

What I’ll remember most about Michigan is the surprise. I felt as if I were on a trip to an actual coastal town, some small stop in South Carolina or coastal Georgia perhaps. I could have sworn I tasted a hint of salt, both in the water and in the air.

I walked in Lake Superior for the first time. I swam in Lake Michigan and felt a touch of danger, like I was in the Atlantic Ocean, like the old days. I write this while sitting on something I am becoming more willing to call a beach. I sit with my wife, and other family, and feel almost at home.

I realize the torrential snows will come soon, but you wouldn’t consider that fact today. At the very least, you block it from your mind.

(next day) The mosquitoes absolutely obliterated my body. As I write this, my arms and back swell with the poisons passed to me by the world’s number one killer. Slightly fewer than a hundred bites adorn my body. Coming from such a swampy area, Central Florida, I didn’t expect to be caught off guard. It almost made me respect this location just a touch more.

We hiked through a swarm of killers and I take just a bit of pride in that. I will be recovering for a small window of time, but the window that was opened up to me by this experience was well worth the trouble and irritation.

-Houston Bailey

The Places We’ve Been

Some places can bring you back to a certain time in your life. I suppose they can be either good or bad times. For some people, smells can do this, or maybe a song.

In my current job, I work immediately next to a place that does this for me. In my case, it brings me back to a good and meaningful time in my life. This place happens to now be an apartment complex of sorts, but was once a hotel that I lived in for a little over three months. It sounds weird to live in a hotel for that long, but I was on a “business trip”, if you will.

These days, when I see this complex, and more specifically the room I stayed in, it makes me happy and it makes me think. Immediately upon my eyes making contact with that room, I am automatically brought back to that space and time, back to 2005. Back then, my life was significantly different than it is now. I will say that my current life is better, but it is different. Back in 2005 I had much less responsibility, both personally and professionally. I came and went as I pleased and work did not come home with me.

I am reminded of that, and almost feel like I am back in that situation every time I look across that field and see those apartments. I do not have the ability to put that feeling into words on a screen, but trust me when I say that I can feel it deep in my gut. Some, if not most, of you know this feeling, I am sure. Or, I am at least hopeful, because it is a visceral feeling.

I can remember working over nights and sleeping during the day. I can taste the free breakfasts I would partake in after my shifts. I can feel the warmth of the pool water washing over me.

I suppose these feelings make me both happy and sad, and I can't quite figure out why that is. The happy feeling makes sense I suppose. I have fond memories of the location and everything that the work I was doing has provided me. The freedom, the mostly carefree attitude of the months I was there. But why the sad? Do I long to go back to that time in life, if even for a short period of time? Is this a midlife thing? Whatever it is, it is weird, but the feeling is real.  

I can’t remember the names of the people I worked with at that time, but I can see their faces. But that feeling. That feeling is as clear as day.

It is strange that all these years later, I work about 200 yards from this meaningful place. Sometimes when I get an extended break from otherwise endless meetings, I will go park my car in direct line of sight to that old hotel room. I look at it and get that feeling. I wonder what those people are up to these days. I wonder how my life would be different if I did not get this experience. I want to go knock on the door and see how I would feel walking into that room. Strange, I know.

Do you have a place like this? Do you ever go visit it and get those memories and that feeling, if even for a few short minutes? Why do some places hold this sway? What is a good phrase for this feeling? It is odd, but it is interesting.

-Houston Bailey

Christmas Has Changed

Christmas has come and gone, much like my thirties. This year, for whatever reason, is the first year that I could feel a difference in the cold (not COLD, I live in Texas) December air.

When I was a kid, which I understand is a line that is written due to my ever-increasing age, the gifts must have been different. (Generic) Bikes, (generic) skateboards, Wiffle Ball bats, Nerf guns- these all made an appearance under the tree at some point. What did this mean? It meant I unwrapped them, threw on a sweatshirt, and immediately headed outside to partake. Most other kids in the neighborhood did similar things. We would meet at the corner and compare new things, or perhaps even share our new wares.

Over these two or three post-Christmas days, in 2019, this tradition has seemed to fall by the wayside. On my daily dog walks, I have seen a total of two kids playing with what seem to be new treasure. For context, we live in a fairly large neighborhood, plenty of kids around waiting on the bus on a typical school day. What happened to them over Christmas break? Is it video games? Is it new phones and computer gadgets (word used on purpose to show my oldness)? Is it parents being afraid, maybe understandably, to let their kids go play outside? Or is it that kids just do not want to play outside these days?

I can not answer this myself, as I am not a parent (*am now). It is just an observation I have made over the past couple of days. An obvious observation, however. Also, a sad one. It seems the days of the outside child are over. Maybe one day they will make a glorious comeback, kids canvassing the neighborhood on their Schwinns or “sneaking” into your yard to retrieve an errant Wiffle Ball, but I will not hold my breath. 

Anyways, nothing mind-blowing here, just something to think about…

-Houston Bailey

Fandom

I wrote this a couple years ago, hence the outdated game reference

Fans of sports teams can be a little crazy. Hell, maybe even I have been so in the past, but I think I have outgrown that. Many of us have not.

Last night, there was an important College Football game between Ohio State and Clemson. When I say important, I mean important in the world of sports. The winner of this game would go on to play for the National Championship, the ultimate goal for a College Football player and team. During the game, a very good Ohio State player was ejected for what basically was an illegal hit. I disagreed with the punishment, but by rule it was justified. Most fans of that team did not see it that way. Many felt the urge to express this disagreement.

I woke up this morning to tour Twitter for my morning news and recaps of the game. I was immediately startled by what I saw- seemingly grown men attacking certain sports writers who dared to agree with the ruling and ejection of one of “their” beloved players. The language used in many of these Tweets were, what would you say, “Not Suitable For Work”.

I could not help myself, for some strange reason I felt the need to read several of these comments before I just couldn’t take it anymore. I found myself embarrassed for the commenters and clicking on their bios to see what they were all about. Most were adorned with pictures of “their” team, locations near the teams in which they support, and many other clear indicators that a sports team was perhaps the most important thing in their lives.

I understand the passion and pageantry of sports, I do. But, in my every increasing amount of years on this Earth, I find something a little disturbing with people who get so wrapped up in their team that they are willing to drop “f-bombs” and the like on others. You see it all the time- fights in the stands, Tweets, the home fans viciously taunting those who dare to visit their stadium and cheer for the opposing team. It is as if some of these fans honestly believe they are actually on the team. I love sports, but I hate this. 

Let’s grow up sports fans. Sports are fun, or at least they should be fun. It is just a game after all. 

-Houston Bailey

Avoiding Regret

Avoiding Regret- a chapter from ‘Looking at Forty’

I visited Dealey Plaza today. If you do not know what that is, please put the book down (just for a minute) and read up about it. Trust me, it is an important place not only in the American psyche but on the world stage. I have been to Dallas a few times in my life but, for whatever reason, I have never visited this historic location. It surprised me how small it was, but the smallness added to the character of the scene. I hate to admit it, but one of the themes of this book is honesty. My admission is that I almost did not go. I was in Dallas because my wife had a work trip and I decided to accompany her. For whatever reason, likely guilt, we decided to bring our two dogs along on the trip. We went in August, which is not the most pleasant time in Texas to be walking around outside. To top it all off, I had to go “out of my way” to get to Dealey.  

Dealey felt somber and dark. I expected this, but it was still surprising. I knew it would have a bit of that feeling, but I did not expect the amount of strangeness it actually carried. It was as if I was in a scene that has not happened yet, but I knew what was to come. I was in a location where something horrific happened in the past, yet there was some sort of looming fear that it was going to happen now, at any moment. In case you didn’t look it up earlier, Dealey Plaza is where JFK was assassinated. 

The aforementioned compactness of the plaza played into the feeling of dread. The distance between perpetrator and victim was much smaller than I pictured in my mind from all the documentaries (for simplicity’s sake, I will use perpetrator in the singular and leave it at that). In addition to the melancholy feel in the air, other things made me sad. There were people taking selfies with the ‘X’. This is the symbol on the street at the exact location where the dreadful event transpired. Taking a selfie there is reprehensible. There were also vendors selling all sorts of things. I did not feel this was respectful or even necessary to the location and situation.  

When I was 25, I wanted to visit this place. I had seen many movies and heard many stories about the event. Even in my youth I felt drawn to it. But if I had been there on a hot August day and had to brave a cross-town trek, I would have skipped it and missed the opportunity. I would have thought the whole thing was a huge hassle. I would have passed on visiting one of the more historically significant places in our country, if not the world. In all honesty, I would have preferred to go somewhere for a cold beer instead. Thinking about that now, I find it crazy yet true. To make it worse, I would not have had any regrets the following day. It would have disappeared from my consciousness.

Now that I am 39, I do not want regrets. I understand it is impossible to live with absolutely zero regrets, but it is an admirable goal to get as close to that number as possible. Who knows if I will ever return to Dallas? This may have been my last realistic opportunity to visit this historic location. I am glad I jumped at the opportunity. Being that close and not seeing it, not paying respects, would have been something I thought about for the rest of my life. When I look back on all the opportunities to do something similar to this that I have passed up, it makes me cringe. I lived in Germany and never visited many WWII sights. I have visited France and did not see the beaches of D-Day infamy. This list could go on for quite some time, but I will fight the urge to display it. This is not to say that we should visit places just to say we did, or out of some strange form of guilt. We should want to. We should feel some type of responsibility, deep down within ourselves, to do these things. That feeling comes with age for most of us. I wish I knew this when I was younger. 

I would say that when you are in doubt, do it. Doubt versus regret, a brutal and never-ending battle. I know now that regrets are far worse than any doubt or perceived hassle. The decision to visit the location of JFK’s assassination is not one of the more difficult decisions I will make in life, but it stands as a perfect representation of how such a simple choice can help avoid a lifetime of regret. I will always regret missing out on those WWII sights and the D-Day beaches. I never made the decision to go visit these places while I had the chance. I will never regret not visiting Dealey Plaza, because I made the right decision and did what I should have done. I know this is not the “moral” you were expecting for this chapter, but it is an important one to me. I would have regretted not writing this paragraph. And we all know my thoughts on regrets.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

The Times They are A-Changing

I listened to Bob Dylan today. I didn’t listen in the realm of some deep dive into his lyrical meaning or for the undertones of a generation. I listened as a first-timer, to get a better idea. That is not to say that I had never heard a Dylan song, but I had never made the effort to listen to him for an extended period of time. I had never made a concerted effort to appreciate and enjoy the man who has fascinated millions. There is some sort of synchronicity to this, because today just happens to be Bob Dylan’s birthday. To be honest, I am not sure if this is why I made the effort today or if that was some cosmic coincidence. I prefer the second scenario there, but it was good either way.

I am not much of a new-music guy these days, but I understand the error in my ways when it comes to Dylan. (And by new, I mean new to me.) I tend to put on “the usual” while cooking dinner, but today was different. I felt like my life was missing a little something, and that something was knowledge of one of the best songwriters in history. Dylan won both a Pulitzer and a Nobel Prize for his writings, along with Hemingway. This was a fact I was unaware of until today. So if I want to join this illustrious group, I should at least know something about both of them. Kidding. Maybe.

The main reason I decided to listen to him is that I am embarrassed to not be familiar with such an iconic figure. I am very familiar, and a fan of, most of his contemporaries, but for whatever reason, Dylan never caught on with me. That is my fault, never having given a real and honest chance to his music or songwriting. My parents didn’t give me a full intro to his style, as they did with Jimi, the Beatles, CCR, and the like. Does that count as an excuse? This book has something to do with it, but I am beginning to appreciate how hard writing—of any type—is. It is an effort, an effort that takes time and energy and focus and creativity. I hadn’t appreciated that until I experienced it myself in some minuscule way.

I wouldn’t likely have considered these things at 26. Actually, I didn’t at all. I only would have cared if I liked something within the first 20 seconds of it hitting my eyes, lips, or ears. I would not have taken an extra step to appreciate potential greatness. At 26, I did not always respect quality, only immediate pleasure. It may seem like those two things are linked, but that is not the case. What is your favorite snack? Is that quality? What is your favorite TV show? Quality? Maybe it is, likely it is not—especially at 26. I am completely certain and aware that I listened to a lot of bad music at 26 (and most other ages). I listened to music that was written and performed by those who didn’t try quite hard enough. I still respect those people, and I could never do what they did (I failed at learning the guitar three times), but a lot of the music was borderline at best.

At 39, my tastes have changed quite a bit. That is most likely fortunate for all those within earshot of my speakers. Going back to quality, I have honed in on that quite a bit, and not only in the music realm. I still have some guilty pleasures, no doubt, but most of what I listen to these days would be called quality music. I wonder if Bob Dylan’s musical sensibilities—or what he listened to—changed when he was around my age. I am sure it happens for most of us if we let it. It appears to be the natural order of things.

I have spoken about how it is important—yet difficult—to change as you get older. It becomes increasingly challenging to force yourself to try new things, big or small. Today was important in overcoming some of those mental blocks. The reason for that is because it made me think about how things change in a natural way with time. For example, did you like eating onions as a young child? How about now as an adult? I bet you like onions, don’t you? Do you remember when that occurred, or better yet, why the change occurred? That happened naturally with age. So we have to assume that other things in life can change in a similar manner. Maybe we didn’t appreciate Dylan when we were 21, but he deserves another chance. That same sentiment could go for many other things in life. Your wife wants to take a gardening class, but you think you hate gardening? Maybe your level of enjoyment in gardening has changed—so go try it out. Scared to wear that pink shirt because you are still thinking like a 23-year-old? Try it out, see how you feel. Things change. It is OK if one of those things is you. Try something new. Purposely revisit things you think you dislike. They could surprise you, and you could surprise yourself. Your new and improved self.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Take Ownership

I fixed a faucet today. This may not seem like such a big deal, but trust me when I say that, for me, this was a big win. To give a little background, this was more of a re-installation project than a maintenance issue. We bought a new faucet a year ago and have had significant trouble with it since—and that had been a point of shame for me for just as long. At 39, this should be an easy task no matter your level of handiness, but I caught some tough breaks. The coupling device that anchors the faucet did not fit properly under the sink due to the strange design of the area where the sink meets the counter. As a result, the faucet was continuously loose and flopping around whenever it was called into action. I have been tinkering with this damn thing since day one. I have been underneath that sink more times than I can count trying to secure this thing. I even brought out a professional who gave it a shot. Two days after he left, it was loose again. I had failed every time—until today.

The difference between today’s successful installation attempt and the previous ones was focus. Prior to today, each time I attempted to fix this damn faucet went exactly the same. I muscled it into place, I fought against the elements. I used virtually the same strategy each time, and this resulted in the same failure. Along with these failures came further frustration and embarrassment. Not today. Today I took my time. I did not attempt to complete the task as quickly as possible. Instead I took a step back and thought about what needed to happen. I concocted a different measure to tackle the problem and I stuck with it, no matter how long the chore took. I was OK with the fact that I would be tucked into this uncomfortable position for as long as it would take, squeezing myself into this tiny cabinet under the sink, twisting and turning every joint on my body so that my screwdriver could find its target. So far, the results are stellar. This faucet now protrudes from the sink in a proud manner. It has easily withstood the day’s action and aggression. I am confident in the install and I am confident in myself. Weird how that happens. I finally admitted to myself that I had failed and that I needed to put more of an effort into this project—and it worked. I am positive that this success, this confidence, will give me the assurance to boldly attempt even more challenging tasks in the future.

None of this would have happened to me at 28. First of all, I would not have purchased a new faucet for my kitchen because I would not have cared. Buying a replacement would have eliminated all the hassle that has tortured me over the past year, but I would never have experienced the feeling I did today. The feeling of victory, no matter how small, is a pleasurable one. Doing things that are hard, or new, are worth the effort. My 28-year-old self wouldn’t have even considered this.

At 39, these small, mundane, daily things are suddenly full of importance. They are now meaningful enough to think about, ponder, and even write about. Being 39 has changed my mindset on so many things. I do not think I have ever had a more positive mindset in my life.

Another way this faucet symbolizes my life at 39 is that I worried about it affecting someone I care about. The haphazard installation has been annoying my wife for a few months now. I felt bad. I felt guilty. I wanted those feelings to stop, both for her and for me. I know she loves this faucet (it’s her first faucet purchase as well), but she did not love how it was operating. She was using this equipment many times a day and I could see the disappointment on her face each time it flopped around. I am proud that I put an end to that, but somewhat dissatisfied with myself that it took so long. Now that I see how much better she feels about it, I wish I would have taken more decisive action sooner. I have come to learn that when something—no matter how small—is letting down your loved ones, you need to act.

That leads to today’s moral: ownership. Taking ownership in your work is a key to life, no matter how you define work. How could I let so many months go by with this loose faucet, with this disappointed wife, and still have any pride? I understand the faucet was a minor part of my daily life, but it all adds up over time. I should have taken ownership in my installation and perfected it the first time. It makes me wonder what else I am letting slide that may seem insignificant. Is there anything at work that could negatively impact my career? Are there other things—more important things—that I am ignoring in my marriage? How about my friendships? What is the loose faucet in those relationships? My goal is to not let this happen any longer. When I do something, I will do it right, or at least to the best of my ability. If I notice that something I did does not live up to expectations, I am going to fix it immediately. I will not let the days of low effort add up and erode my pride over time. For months, I have hated this faucet. Now I owe it both an apology and a thank you at the same time. In some strange fashion, it has pointed out errors in my ways. Each time I turn the handle on my new, sturdy friend, I will take a little pride, knowing that I owned up to the previous failure.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Take Your Medicine

I laughed a lot today. I laugh every day, I would think, but today I pursued it with vigor. I did not wait for it to come to my doorstep as I normally do. I went after laughs and I got them on a recurring basis throughout the day. I realize that it may not be a normal thing to go out of your way to see how many times you could laugh. But that’s why I did it. I understand if it seems a little weird or strange to do such a thing, but why is that? I hope this chapter will allow us to reconsider the strangeness of attempting to be happier. Laughing is fun, and so today was a little more fun than yesterday or the day before. I have no way to prove that, but let’s call it a gut feeling. One thing I found interesting was how challenging it was to find things to laugh at in my natural daily routine. I also found that a little sad. I hate to admit it, but it is a fact. When I say I went out of my way to find laughs, I mean it in the most literal terms. I had to try hard to find things that were funny. I took up this challenge due to the realization that laughs were not as frequent in my daily routine as perhaps they should be.

I focused on many areas throughout the day that could provide me with these ever-important laughs. I listened more closely to people’s discussions. Not only their discussions with me, but with other people (aka eavesdropping). I heard some jokes that made me chuckle and some sarcasm that made me outright laugh. I watched people’s quirky habits from afar. This category likely provided the majority of today’s laughs. We are odd birds, us humans. Especially when it comes to decision-making. I saw numerous things throughout the day that made me laugh, and I do not know if this is good or bad. Some of the decisions I saw today would typically make me a little upset or disappointed, but today, I laughed, and it was a relief. I also looked for comedy within some of my work meetings, and it didn’t fail. I realized that laughing at some of the usual negatives associated with meetings made them far more bearable. It made them even a little interesting. I sought out humorous moments in my music and my podcasts with varying degrees of success. It was worth the effort for the few laughs I experienced that I wouldn’t have had yesterday. I even looked for opportunities to laugh at myself, and those came fast and furious. The more times it happened the more willing I was to go with it. That alone would have made this exertion worth it. In combination with everything else, it made it a stellar day.

When I was 36, I was serious in all facets of life, or at least the vast majority. I am sure those who know me well would agree, whether they know me from professional life, personal life, or through some other method. You could say this about me at 39, but not to the same degree. I chose to discuss an age much closer to 39 than I typically would in this book to display how quickly you can change your mindset, if you so desire. At that point in life, I considered it an imperative to put on a stoic face, day-in and day-out. I believed that acting seriously would lead to people taking me more seriously. I thought that was important, even one of the more important things in life. I went out of my way to appear overly thoughtful, to appear stone-faced. I did not partake in comedy nor did I seek out opportunities to laugh at or with others. And I definitely did not laugh at myself.

At 39, I am trying to separate myself from that antiquated thought process. Today was a good push in that direction. I am trying to more clearly and easily see the joy in things. I seek the comedic value of events and what that value contributes to the overall happiness in life. This sounds hyperbolic, but finding the comedy in daily events and circumstances is of utmost importance. I am starting, at 39, to realize how good life is, and I am beginning to see the close connection between laughter and enjoyment. I am also beginning to see the merits of some old clichés. Laughter is contagious. I would have sarcastically laughed this off in my past, but no more. I now see the benefits. That is why today happened and why I want more of this. I want to pass this along to others who surround me, or whom I surround. I now see it as important—something I will consider on a daily basis, at the very least.

The least we can all do is attempt to find the happiness that lies within us. We want to be happy, we truly do. How we define happiness may vary, but there is no denying that this is a key aspect and a key desire in life. I urge us to attempt what I did today. I urge us to dutifully seek out laughter and enjoyment. Do not wait for it to approach you on the street. That will happen less often as it should. There could be stretches of barren wastelands between true laughs if we wait. Go after it, search for it. It will not feel manufactured—quite the opposite. I am glad I created ways to laugh today. It changed my mind on the importance of doing such a thing. Laughter makes life lighter. It makes life more refreshing. Sometimes it can seem hard to come by, but I promise it is out there if we look for it. So go look. We will not regret it, not for one second. If we do, then the joke is on us.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

It Takes a Village

I borrowed a tool today. I borrowed it from a neighbor whom I had not met before, but we’ll get to how that happened shortly. I needed this tool for a project I was working on, one I was happy to undertake to improve my skills of being handy. The project had to do with installing a type of security system for our house. This is important to me as a husband and something I should have done long ago. I feel as if I am responsible for the physical well-being of my family, meaning my wife, and I have not done this to my utmost ability to this point. In a way, I have failed her.

The install began early this morning and I made good progress up until no more progress could be made. Part of this installation was drilling holes into the front of our house. The issue is that our house is brick, and I own a drill that is incapable of drilling holes into bricks. This drill is the first one I have owned in my life, and I have been proud to own it up until about 8:30 this morning. I attempted the brick drilling four times before I realized neither I nor my drill had the slightest likelihood of success. This is when, because I am almost 40, I decided to take a step back and a deep breath.

I had a few options, none of which were ideal. The first option was to go to the local hardware store and buy a drill that would allow me to make headway with the brick. This was a less-than-ideal option but was alluring at the same time. There are many things you could buy for the money it would cost to buy this powerful instrument, but it would be nice to own something capable of punching holes into material as strong as brick. Classic dilemma.

The second option provided a similar predicament: I could simply abort the mission and go about my day, but as I mentioned, this project was important to me as a husband. My wife would not have been thrilled if I gave up and put this new security system on a shelf somewhere. Add the fact that my mother-in-law bought this system for us, and well…

On to option three. The time had come to borrow this piece of equipment from a friend or neighbor. I chose this option and went the route of a neighbor. Given this book will be timeless and read for generations to come (right?), I should explain the current state of borrowing from neighbors. The neighborhood in which we currently live has a social media page, so I chose to go on this page and ask for assistance. This request was successful and I ended up with a high-powered drill in my hand only an hour later.

Option two would have been the option of choice back when I was 23 or 26 or 30. This project would have been abandoned before completion. This is sad to admit considering that I was employed by the US military at the time, and I should have felt quite the opposite. Always accomplish the mission no matter the circumstances—that is the military way. I probably would have blamed my inaction on the fact that I dealt with this all the time at work and did not need to deal with it at home, the whole “mission accomplishment” thing. The other options would have fallen by the wayside. The ability or willingness to spend the money to acquire such a tool would be a daydream at best. As for option three, even though it sounds ridiculous to my 39-year-old self, I would not have been willing to ask for help. I would have been embarrassed that I was not able to handle such a menial task on my own and with my own gear. The project would have gone unfinished and chalked up to the stubbornness of youth.

At 39, it seems that I have more willingness to accept help from others, even from those outside my circle. At 39, there is a willingness to reach out to a group of (mostly) strangers. Today, there was an understanding that it was OK to ask others for help, even for such a mundane thing as a decent drill. I swallowed my pride and it worked out well. Today, it was important to get the job done, no matter what it took. I chose not to make excuses but instead stood up to the responsibility of completing this task. I understand what today meant and what it means going forward into my forties. I know that this project was important to my wife and her family, and so it was even more important to me. At 39, I am proud of what I did today. I am proud to have overcome the stubborn tendencies of my younger self. I am proud of getting this task done even though I had to overcome some unforeseen challenges.

The importance of today’s lesson may not even need mentioning at this point. We all can see how today represented swallowing my pride and asking others for help. It worked wonders for me, and I wish I had followed my own lead countless times over the last 39-plus years. We all see the positives and benefits of counting on and trusting our neighbors, communities, friends, and family, yet for some reason, a lot of us fight the urge to do so. At this point in life, that is a mystery to me. We should all be willing to get help. We should also all be willing to give help any chance we get. There is no better feeling, right? We need to realize that the vast majority of people are good and are willing to help if they are asked. As we age, do we overestimate our abilities? Are we too scared, prideful, or just plain ashamed to ask for help or ask if someone else needs help? While it would be easy for me to challenge us all to lend a helping hand to our neighbors, I will do something else. I challenge us to ask for help when needed. I challenge us to be willing to admit when we need that help. We will be pleasantly surprised with what we find if we just ask.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Turbulent Times

I took a flight today. You know, on an airplane. This fact is nothing new to me. I have likely taken hundreds of flights at this point, some good and some not so great. Today’s flight was all those things swaddled into one. To avoid burying the punch line, I will tell you that the genesis of this chapter was a crying baby. A baby who cried the entire two hours in the air, as well as the time leading up to takeoff. It was not a pleasant or cute cry. It was the opposite of both those words, and maybe even a little worse. Let me add that it also seemed unusually warm on the plane as well. I am not stating that as fact, it just felt that way. Like when the room seems to warm up significantly when it is your turn to speak to a group. This warmth did not help things for anyone involved. My wife, who was sitting by my side the entire trip, seemed a little frustrated by all the racket. She is not easy to frustrate.

To make matters worse, it was a small plane due to the relative shortness of the flight. Small plane equals close quarters for the passengers. All passengers, even the crying ones. You could feel the tension in the air and taste it in your ginger ale. The close vicinity amplified the sound by (what seemed to be) four or five orders of magnitude. The augmented sound in return made the close quarters seem closer still. It was a never-ending cycle of noise and proximity. It was interesting to see other people’s reactions to the crying. You could see the gambit of emotions—frustration, sadness, angst, anger, empathy, sympathy, even laughter. I find it interesting to see how people react in uncomfortable situations, and today’s event did not disappoint. So there was a positive side to this assault on the senses. Being stuck on an airplane and close to the culprit forced me to think about what was happening and consider the meaning behind it. I had to consider how it was impacting me and how I was choosing to react, or not react, to it.

If I were 23 years old, I would have been upset for those two hours of flight time. The feeling would likely have lasted for much longer after we landed. I would have complained to myself, as if someone was listening, as if complaining would do anything at all. I would have complained so strongly to myself that I would have worked myself up into a frenzy of sorts. I would have stewed on this crying baby for the rest of the ruined day. I would have clearly blamed the parents. I would have questioned why they would think it was a good idea to bring such a young baby onto a flight filled with unsuspecting travelers. I would have then wondered if the parents were even attempting to calm the child. Deep down, I would have known that it was not actually anyone’s fault, but it would have taken me a while to come to that conclusion.

My first instinct at 39 was to feel bad for the parents. It was such an obviously uncomfortable situation for them, and I know it had to be excruciating. I felt pain for them, and for the baby as well. While some of the passengers may have felt as if this was one of their worst flights, there was little doubt that it was, in fact, the worst of the worst for the parents. You could feel the judgment coming from the exit rows and the scorn from business class. At 39, I was more apt to judge the judgers. One in particular stood out. A guy who kept turning his head around to look back at the young family in hopes that his continual glances might distract the infant from its cries. He had no success in this strategy except to make me have some strange disdain for him. Weird how that works. The pain that these parents—and this poor infant—were feeling made me actually appreciate the flight. Compared to their current state of affairs, I had it very easy. I listened to music and was fairly relaxed for those two hours. After all, I was sitting in a metal tube flying across the country through the air. That fact made me realize how insignificant the minor annoyance of a crying baby was.

This was my main takeaway from today’s events. How having empathy for others can make you appreciate the things you have in life. The struggles of those parents today made me realize how easy my trip was in comparison. I felt what they were going through, and I wish there was a way I could have helped make it a little better for them and the baby. Seeing the negative reactions of fellow passengers also made me grateful. It made me grateful to finally be at a place in life where I am on the other side. I did not get upset or angry at those parents—it was actually quite the opposite. This 39 thing can be good at times, at most times. These kinds of feelings allow you to live with a clearer head, a clearer conscience. I am sure there were many others on the plane who felt this way but did not consider the meaning and importance of it. There were also those angry passengers who will never think about how that negative mindset impacts other areas of their life. Little things like today make me appreciate 39. I hope everybody can get to a similar point at some time in their lives if they haven’t already. And to all those parents of crying babies on airplanes, your next drink is on me.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Start Strong

Start Strong

I woke up early today. To most people, I typically wake up early anyways, with 5:01 a.m. being my primary alarm. But today I woke up at 4:00 a.m. Honestly, it wasn’t my idea, but the dog’s idea. I got out of bed to take him out for a quick trip around the block and then decided to stay awake, figuring he would not want to go back to bed anyway. It was a good decision, to say the least. I am sure we have all woken up early in our lives, but for some reason, it just feels different—and better—when you are 39. It feels especially good because I wasn’t waking up to go into work early or anything along those lines. I was the opposite of rushed. This wake up allowed time to enjoy my coffee, prep for the coming day, and start the writing process or whatever other process to which I felt inclined.

The most striking thing about 4:00 a.m. is the quiet. This seems like an obvious quality of the time slot, but it really stood out, even compared to 6:00 a.m. While outside with the dog, I heard no cars. I heard no other neighborhood dogs barking. I am currently writing this at 6:31 a.m., and that has already changed. Even though we live in a quiet neighborhood, I can still hear the hustle and bustle signaling the beginning of a new day. 4:00 a.m. felt like a whole different world. It was my day and no one else’s. There were no cars to interrupt my thoughts, no need to check email or the phone. Hell, even my two crazy dogs were too tired to be annoying.

The quiet provided me with a unique feeling. My brain felt completely fresh and relaxed. It was not yet bogged down with the tasks and information of the day. Even at my normal waking time, my brain has to fight the knowledge that I must be soon getting ready to slog away to my cubicle and waste the beautiful day. My brain usually focuses on the chain of events that need to happen before that dreaded commute. Make the coffee. Make the second batch of coffee. Decide how long of a walk I can take the dogs on. Take the dogs for a walk. Decide what I should eat for breakfast. Cook breakfast. Choose suitable clothes for the workplace. Make sure I have everything I need for the day. At 4:00, I did not yet have to worry about these things. I could enjoy myself a little even, and I did.

At 4:00, I felt alone. I use the term “alone” here in a positive manner. Even when I am alone during my normal days, I do not truly feel that way. There is always so much to do, so much to consider. When you get true alone time, take advantage of it. It is deeply, deeply refreshing. It was almost to the point of amazing how easy it was for me to create an outline for this chapter. At this time of day, it took less than five minutes. If I had waited until later, it would have been impossible. My mind would have been tangled with other things it thinks I should be doing. But this early in the day I was able to control that, having that buffer zone of time and comfort on my side. Combining the quiet, freshness of the mind, and the solitude of it all made me feel as if I was on another planet. I was on a planet where I could accomplish anything I wanted, at least for a couple of hours. Without the ability to find a better word, it was revitalizing. This extra hour also allowed me to extend my day. I had the time to do several items that usually would have been crammed into later in the day. Those things would have eliminated the ability to create, think, or laugh. The hour between four and five felt like the equivalent of a 24-hour day.

In my younger years, I would have felt differently about this. Being a military man for a chunk of my adult life, I have had more than a few 4:00 a.m. wake-ups. Those were not the same thing. Those were, let’s say, forced wake-ups, not chosen ones. Those were not refreshing or reinvigorating. In fact, I would likely consider most of my early wake-ups the opposite. If you woke me up at 4:00 when I was 19, I would have been perplexed as to why. Why would anyone in their right mind get up—and stay up—at that Godforsaken hour? At 29, I would have been a little more comfortable with it, yet still strongly disagree with the reasoning behind it. At those ages, my dog would have to wait. Maybe at 39, I am showing a little more compassion for other beings. But that could be its own chapter. At 39, I appreciated what those extra minutes meant and what they provided me. At 27, those thoughts would not have crossed my mind, even if I did wake up early.

At 39, I am thinking I need to make this a somewhat regular occurrence. I see the benefits to this and I love them. The way my brain felt at 4:00 was fantastic. Clear and ready. Highly functioning. The quiet felt good, both mentally and physically. I cannot explain the physical part, but I know it was there. I am trying not to think about how many of these moments I missed in previous years. If I had started this as a trend ten years ago, where would I be? Would it have had the same benefits as it does for the 39-year-old me? Likely not, I suppose. No need to dwell. If I enjoy the extra hour here and there during this year, I can squeeze a few more 24-hour spans—and a few more chapters—out of my 39th year. That sounds like a pretty damn good idea to me. I hope it does to you as well. Set that alarm. Listen to it.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Stop Avoiding It

Stop Avoiding It

I dreaded something today. To be honest, it was not only today but for several days—maybe even more than a week. I’m using today as an example due to the fact that I had to stop dreading this thing—I just had to complete the task and get it off my long to-do list. I woke up with the dread right there in the pit of my stomach, awaking at the same moment as I did. Maybe it’s even what woke me. What I dreaded today was making a phone call. I received a job offer recently, a good job offer that I had to decline. There were several reasons for the need to decline, and that is what today’s phone conversation was about, turning down this job after weeks of contemplation. It is always worse when you wait.

Turning down a job offer is a good problem to have, and I completely understand that. This one was different, at least for me. I was not calling some faceless human resources department and speaking with someone I do not know. I was not declining the position over some computer-generated system. I was calling a guy who I know very well and with whom I’ve had a professional relationship for over five years. This is a man who I respect deeply and who has helped thousands of people throughout his career. He is a serious and hardworking man. To make it worse, I feel as if I gave the impression that I would be accepting the job. That fact makes me feel guilty and is at the root of the dread. I felt sick and nervous today, all about making a simple phone call. This is not typical behavior for me, and it was admittedly difficult to handle throughout the day.

When I was younger, I would have done anything in my power to avoid this phone conversation. I more likely would have sent an email with some lame excuse as to why I could not call. I would not have taken the road of responsibility. To tell the truth, I fought that urge for the past two days, the urge to send off a three-line note why I would be declining. It is difficult to avoid taking the easy path at times, no matter what your age. Even worse, I may have waited for him to call me (although this would not have been ideal for my younger self, seeing as I would still have to speak with him). Once on the phone, I probably would have made excuses as to why I would not be accepting the job and skipped right over the truth. I don’t know what those excuses would have been, but I am confident that I would have tried. Perhaps I would have blamed my wife and her intense desire to remain in our current location. Or blamed my current role with the military for not allowing for my departure. I would have thought of something, I am sure of it.

But now that I am 39, I thought that it is important to be, you know, more grown-up about it. Today is the day I decided to suck it up and get it over with. I felt the guilt of stringing him along and not answering the offer. I will admit that I still waited until 4:00 p.m. to make the call, so I did give in to the dread just a little. But I did it. I finally got it over with. I ended the stalemate for both of us. I was open and honest about why I would not accept the offer and gave no excuses on the matter. I told him the truth, which was that the job was just not to the same level as my current role, and therefore would be a step back in my career. I did not blame or implicate others in the decision and expressed regret on how long it took me to get back to him. It felt terrible to decline but great to have this done. Looking back on the experience, I realize how crazy it was for me to put it off so long. Sweating and stewing in my own nerves for many unnecessary days, hours, and minutes. We seem to do this kind of thing often, and at 39, I realize that this is pointless. It never helps to wait to do something difficult, something you do not want to do. It just makes it even harder to accomplish, every single time.

The older I get, the more I understand how important it is for us to do the hard things and do them the right way. It would have been easier to avoid a conversation on this matter, but that would have been the coward’s way out. That would not be the way a grown man would complete the task, no matter how strong the urge. Even though I still feel a tinge of guilt at the fact that I declined the offer, I can look at myself in the mirror and know I did it the right way, even if it took me a little longer than it should have. We need to fight the instinct to take the easy road whenever feasible. The feeling you get when you end up doing something the right way is well worth it in the end. We should all quit putting things off whether they are easy or they are hard, but this is especially true of the difficult things. Living with that feeling in your gut is a killer. Why do we do it? Most of the time, at least in my experience, we know what we should do, how we should do it, and when we should do it. We know these things, so let’s start doing them. Do not let guilt sit upon your shoulders. Do not allow dread to be the thing that wakes you in the morning.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Relax

Relax

I took my time today. I was in no rush, and I didn’t plan any specific actions or timelines. I woke up and had my coffee, started some projects without a true plan, and followed that path the entire day. I have to tell you, it is a good feeling. I feel relaxed. I feel happy. I feel accomplished. It’s ironic how much I can accomplish when I don’t have a looming timeline hanging over my head, like an axe ready to descend from the sky at any second. For some unknown reason, we continually put ourselves into a rush. Our minds and bodies are rushed and not functioning at full capacity. We introduce, over and over, self-imposed stress. I have yet to hear one good explanation as to why we do this to ourselves. Perhaps we see everyone else rushing around, being busy, and believe we should be doing the same thing.

I am by no means immune to this. I rush, a lot. I set deadlines and timelines on things I should not. I do it all the time, but today I didn’t. Today I did not give in to the manmade temptation of forcing myself to do things that had no need of getting done. I did the things that mattered to me, and I did them when I wanted to. I have an obsession with time and what it means, so much so that I would consider a love-hate relationship. I love always being on time. I love (and expect) others to be on time. I love scheduling my day by the hours on the clock. I hate the overall feeling of time, however. I hate sitting in my kitchen having coffee at 6:00 a.m. knowing I have a 9:00 a.m. meeting. It’s that all-to-familiar feeling of something looming. I hate it, and I want to rid the world of it.

But today I have no timeline, and I feel free, as we all should. Today’s feeling of freedom correlates with a feeling of accomplishment. That is no coincidence. My soul feels as if it is smiling. These are benefits that we rarely take the time to enjoy, much less understand their importance. We are too busy rushing to notice. My mind was freer today than it has been in quite some time. That freedom allowed my mind to more easily focus, without the distraction of feeling rushed. I am not trying to finish this chapter before that 9:00 a.m. meeting. I have all day. My shoulders are lax and loose, but not too lax—let’s not get carried away! Today’s feeling and success will likely bleed over into tomorrow. I would like to say that this could start a streak, but Monday will be here before you know it, and that will provide a challenge. But, I will put that out of my mind for now.

Where this paragraph would typically follow my template of comparing my younger self with myself at 39, this one is different. A lot of things in this book are things that I have gotten better at over time. But time, itself, is not one of those things. At 28, I took it seriously easy on weekends. I didn’t feel bound by the laundry or the groceries or mowing the yard or the Monday ahead. I am sure that there were many days in my 20s where if you asked me what time it was, I wouldn’t know. And I wouldn’t care. I was better at taking my time at 28 than I am now, no question. That luxury has passed me by, and I am uncertain if it will ever return. I am significantly more rushed now, and the scheduling of events and responsibilities seems to be always snowballing.

What has changed is my clear realization that I do not want the rushed, pressed, or looming feeling in my life for much longer. I want today to be the norm, so normal that it would not merit a chapter in a book. Another benefit of my attitude will no doubt be my relationships with those around me. When I see my wife this evening, I will be calm and happy. She will undoubtedly recognize this and hopefully take some of that feeling for herself, even if only subconsciously. There will be no stress when I call my family members later—whenever I get around to it. I will talk freely and openly and not feel rushed to hang up and go do something else. I will not check to see how long the conversations have lasted. They will feel loved, my family. I think you get the point.

My goal is to allow today to carry over into other days to whatever extent possible. Even at work, I do not want to think about what time I need to leave to beat traffic. I do not want to care what time a certain sporting event starts or what time is the best for dinner. I want those things to be more natural and work themselves out without needing to stress about them. I want the feeling of calm and accomplishment to spill over. I do not want to think of the things I have yet to accomplish, but how much I have already done. I want to make more of the decisions that impact me and my time, and not give others the opportunity to do so. I understand that you cannot make this happen 100% of the time, but I would like to increase whatever my current percentage happens to be. The feeling I have today is my goal.

We need to slow down, or at least not make ourselves feel rushed by fictitious time-bound deadlines. Slowing down today actually sped me up as far as production goes. A little concentration goes a long way. I used to get irritated at how certain family members seemed to have no rhyme or reason in regards to their schedule, where a trip to the grocery store could somehow take two hours. Now I almost crave that freedom. Not the actual freedom—which I do as well—but the mindset it takes to let that happen. Taking your time is perhaps the most underrated pleasure in the world. I dare you to name a better or more beneficial one. And make no mistake about it—it is most certainly a pleasure. Don’t let the modern-day expectations of time take it away from you. Fight with everything you have. Find a hobby—or a job—that has fewer timelines and scheduled meetings. Maybe become a writer, a photographer, or some other form of creative outlet. Do the opposite of what we often hear, and let time get away from you.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Expect the Unexpected

May 20 / Expect the Unexpected (a chapter from my first book)

I watered our plants today. We have five separate plants in the house: four small potted succulents that live on a window sill facing east and one large fiddle leaf fig tree that occupies a corner of the living room with a large window view. They each get watered once a week, so this is not anything new. I go through this same plant watering process weekly and have now for about six or seven months, maybe more. But today was different.

Perhaps it has something to do with a sense of responsibility. Today was the first time that I thought about the fact that I was helping to keep these living, breathing plants alive and well. If I did not take up this responsibility on a weekly basis, they would not survive. I understand that in reality my wife would likely take over, but you see where I am going here.

Now, I know that those of you with children are probably casting a mocking laugh my way, but don’t ruin it for me. This task became important for me today. It became meaningful in a way that had not sunk in up to this point. Not only did I feel the sense of duty, but I also enjoyed it much more than usual. I enjoyed the whole process of filling the cup with water, carefully pouring it into the container, and spraying down the leaves with a misting bottle. Another realization I came to this morning was that I was actually looking forward to this event. After letting the dogs out back, it was the next thing I did at 5:03 in the morning. Was I thinking about it somehow throughout the night? Did I dream of it? This was the first time I felt any real sense of urgency to get this done. It was fun; it was relaxing. Again, I enjoyed it.

At 31, there was not a plant to be found in my dwelling, which at the time was a small apartment with minimal belongings. As a matter of fact, I can say with absolute certainty that I never even considered purchasing something that would cause me more work or add more responsibility. When I think about that now, it seems a little crazy. Who wouldn’t want a live plant in their house to brighten up the scene and the day? The closest I came to that at 31 was having a shower curtain with palm trees on it. I find amusement in wondering what would have happened if I did in fact have another living organism in my house. I’d put the over/under on survival at one month. And that is only because a lot of plants can probably live that long with no help whatsoever!

Whether right or wrong, I would have considered it a hassle to take responsibility for even caring for a tiny little plant. It is amazing how much selfishness we uncover when we are finally grown enough to admit it. Those 45 seconds of watering—once a week—would have been a real pain in my 31-year-old ass.

Nowadays, it is almost comical to think about what I would have considered an annoyance not long ago. At this point on my journey, taking care of things is important to me. Again, I do not have children and I understand that is an entirely different level of responsibility, but I do enjoy the obligations that I do have to pets, plants, family, co-workers. I enjoy the challenge of helping them all get along in their own journeys, their own lives. It is fulfilling and even fun in ways I would not have predicted back in those days of 31. I would have taunted the very idea!

I wonder if it has something to do with some built-in paternal instinct. I wonder if at this stage my biology is trying to tell me something. This happens to men, right? It has to. I mean, I have a wife, two dogs, and five plants—is there only one next logical step? I am interested to see how this instinct—if that is what it is—plays out over the coming year as I meander towards 40. Does this feeling disappear? When does it reach its pinnacle? I never imagined that the act of watering plants would sprout questions of this significance, but that is what happened today. These are interesting questions and make this time in life fascinating. It is exciting to see your thoughts grow when you just give them a little light and a little attention.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Keep Moving

April 17 / Keep Moving (a chapter from my book, ‘Looking at Forty’)

I drove through my hometown today. For all of us who have left and come back, I’m sure we all have some relationship with the places we grew up. Some of those are good, some bad, and some ugly. My relationship with my hometown—Eau Gallie, Florida (somewhat affectionately known as “EG”)—has a bit of all three. I will give you a quick rundown on my hometown, but to sum it up: it is perpetually stuck somewhere in the early 90s. If you are around my age, you remember the vibe of the early 90s pretty well. Death Row Records was the biggest thing on the planet, and it seems as if EG still believes that.

Before I dive in, I will preface this chapter with the fact that I have a lot of love for where I come from. In many ways, it made me who I am today—but I have come to think that its lack of evolution is a bad thing. In EG, it seems most residents are content to squeak by and not progress in life. The same goes for the town itself. It is not actually an official town any longer, just a relic of a town that was eaten up by a larger municipality. Perhaps there is some complex meaning there that I am just now considering. EG has an edge to it, a mix of grit and attitude. This can be good, and this can be bad.

I have always expected this little corner of the world to change, if even ever so slightly. The town has let me down in that regard, as it refuses to budge. Still, this is the kind of place that, for whatever reason, I find myself missing sometimes. That is not to say I would move back to EG, but I still like to see what is going on (which can usually be done on a drive through town). Growing up I had many, many good times in this place. I suppose we could all say that about any hometown, or at least most of us could. There were bad times, too, but the same goes for those. My childhood ranged anywhere between not great to wonderful, depending on what stage I care to look at. But this chapter is not about me—it is about my hometown, a place where it seems like a disproportionate number of people never leave. Those who do not leave, whether by choice or by circumstance, seem to struggle a bit. It is likely the surroundings, as it is hard to change when those surroundings never do. Ambition can be hard to come by in that neck of the woods. As a result, drugs and alcohol tend to offer some form of escape from the everyday.

I do not want to use the word “trap” to describe the place, but it’s the word that comes to mind. When I was younger I succumbed to some of the “trappings” of this place. I have heard the word “towny” be used in other areas to describe a person who never gets out. And I will admit that I was on the border, the cusp, of becoming exactly that. On my drive through town, I could picture myself still there if only I had made a few more ill-advised decisions. There are many wrong paths to pursue in Eau Gallie, but luckily I never made it too far down any of them. I refused to follow some of my friends who explored those paths with a little too much zeal. Unfortunately, most of those paths were dead ends—or worse. I was proud of this little section of the world when I was younger, proud to claim it as where I came from. But I knew, deep down, it was not the long-term lifestyle for me.

At 39, it is easy for me to see that leaving that place was the best, and most important, decision that I ever made. It was not an easy decision to leave it behind, but the best decisions rarely are. When I stop and think about what my life would be like if I hadn’t made that leap, I can’t help but cringe. First, and most importantly, I would not have met my wife. I would likely be in a dead-end job and not pursuing my passions as I am today. I would not have had the opportunity to serve my country—something I am extremely proud of. The list of missed experiences and relationships would run long and deep while the list of accomplishments would likely be the opposite. That is not to say that many people who stick around have not lived wonderful and fulfilling lives there, but I know that mine would not have turned out as well as it has since the departure. I do not have a clear idea of exactly what I would be up to, but I know I would not have had the experiences that my current path has afforded me. I am proud of where I am and the things I have done and seen over the years. I am not sure I would feel the same way if I remained content with the status quo of that town. But who knows. There is something about that place that has the ability to hold people close. I am glad that I was able to break the grips and move on. I look back on that choice with zero regrets. I look back with happiness and pride.

Today’s drive made me consider the importance of constant progression. There are several points in life, sometimes hidden, that can get you stuck in a rut. Perhaps you get content in a job you do not like, yet it pays the bills. Maybe that group of friends or that relationship seems OK and you are unwilling to explore other, better options. Maybe you took a week off from your exercise routine, and you decide it is OK to take off another. While in that rut, a difficult decision needs to be made to accomplish said progression. Sometimes we must move along. That could be from a physical location, a mindset, or even a relationship. I suppose I moved along from all three of those with my departure from EG. We need to, or should, see what is out there beyond our everyday, self-imposed boundaries. We will never discover life’s possibilities if we do not seek them out. I do not know which would be worse—striving for something more in life and failing to achieve it, or never striving at all. Actually, I do know, and so do you. As my car pulled away from EG today, I once again realized the importance of my decision. I was justified in some way. I realized, and appreciated, that some things are best to see through the rearview mirror.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Houses as Mountains (a #5MinuteBlog)

A #5MinuteBlog- no edits, just going with the gut

Maybe not so much in the last few months, you know, due to the newborn, but I typically wake up everyday at 5:01 a.m. I will explain the :01 at some point.

I get up early because I like to be a couple of cups of coffee in by the time the sun rises. When it starts to peak out from beyond the horizon, I open all the back window blinds in the house so I can watch in real time.

The direction from which the sun rises provides a strange phenomenon that leads to a beautiful scene of nature in a place you would not expect it. We live in a location where there are a ton of houses in the distance, but luckily not right behind ours. To the east, where the sun comes up, the houses are slightly more elevated than ours. For about 20 minutes during this window, the sides of the houses that face ours are blacked out by shadows. For those few, precious moments, the houses appear as if they could be mountains.

Jagged. Dark. Interesting.

I know they are not the mountains, not even close. But I sort of pretend. Perhaps this is a sign that we should make this a reality, watching the sunrise over actual, real mountains. Maybe I am at a point in life where I see these types of signs in a lot of different things. I suppose that could be good or bad. For now, I will take it as good. Big, interesting, beautiful things to come.

Coffee. Sunrises. Mountains.

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)

Working at 3:00 a.m. (a #5MinuteBlog)

A 5-minute blog. No edits, just gut.

Do we all wake up at 3:00 a.m. and sit there for some time because we can’t stop thinking about work?

I suppose you could do this because excitement for the next work day has overcome you. Or, you could do the same but only because you are dreading punching that proverbial clock.

Unfortunately, at this point I seem to be one who experiences the latter. I need more professional excitement, passion, and drive.

It is my fault I only rarely possess those virtues these days.

So what do you think about at 3:00 a.m.? Is it work? If so, are you excited, bored, or nervous? If you are one who does not have work on the mind at ungodly hours, what is it that fills that space?

Family? Triumphs? Problems?

If you are one of the lucky few who sleep peacefully through the evening hours, I salute you. I get one of those joys only every so often.

Perhaps it is time for a change?

-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)