Derek Sivers

I was 36, and had been living in Portland for two years. I saw an amazing house for sale — really amazing — stunning design, ideal location on the edge of the city, and its backyard was the start of a huge state park. I had a visceral reaction.

I’m going for the double meaning of “get me” that also means “understand me”.

According to statistics, I’m in the final third of my life. (I don’t expect to beat the odds, because I inherited a cancer-creating genetic disorder.) So maybe it’s the final quarter.

Because I was raised with no religion, I used to think they were all ridiculous.

My parents never mentioned God or any religion. Not necessarily atheist — nothing against. The subject just never came up.

Dismissing gives me a quick little lift.

Dubai was in my “Top 5 places where I NEVER want to go”. I heard it was commercialized hedonism, glorified overindulgence, pandering to millionaires and influencers — extravagance and opulence. Everything I hate. That’s why I had never gone there.

Tomorrow you have plans to go to an event with a friend. You made the plans a month ago. You ask your friend, “Do you still want to go?”

I used to live in a basement apartment, next to the trash room. Rats were often blocking my door, and I could hear them walking in the ceiling right above me as I slept. I hated them so much that I happily killed as many as I could, with no remorse.

For many years, I was a touring musician, performing live on stage every week. But I didn’t like attending concerts. I liked making music more than listening to music. I felt I must be in the wrong line of work, creating something that I don’t consume. I never reconciled this feeling.

Not a new idea, but just another visualization and reminder.

You know that frustration of reading a book that should have been an article? Me too. So I try to do the opposite — to write so succinctly that you wish I would have said a little more. You complete it with your own thoughts.

I’ve asked my favorite musicians if, when they’re done writing a new song, they feel it’s the best song ever. All of them said yes.

I just got the call from the super-connected Alex Steininger that our mutual friend Ben Kihnel died in his sleep. He was only 48.

This is a lukewarm little story with a few connected bits, but it might be interesting or even helpful. Follow the links in it, for full effect. Esperanto start

Kevin Kelly invited me to walk 100 kilometers (62 miles) through northern Thailand for seven days, ending in Chiang Mai. Walking with us were ten other smart interesting people, including five other authors whose work I’ve loved for years. It’s a “Walk and Talk”.

People search for their passion or purpose. But “purpose” and “passion” are words we use when we’re not working.

My band was playing a gig in Oslo, Norway, when I struck up a conversation with a woman who was staring at me. Turns out we had read many of the same books, and we were super-attracted to each other. We talked all night, but just as things got physical in my hotel room, house-keeping came knocking on the door saying we needed to check out now. Right now. Damn.

I forbid myself from anything too tempting or addicting. I keep no cookies in my home. To prevent myself from falling off the wagon, I strap myself to the mast.