Hey friend,

*Golda and Abe exploring our backyard this month*

Fresh Air

For nearly the entire year, we eat inside.

But this last month and through October, usually, our family eats outside when we can.

Barbecues, picnics, snacks at the public pool or even a cold beer in the backyard.

We're outside a lot these days. Pardon my Italian, but we love al fresco.

I'm thinking a lot about going outside.

First, in the literal sense, where I want to be in nature and taking every call as a walk.

This last month also served some critical warnings about climate change: wildfires in Canada made the air quality here in New Jersey nearly unbreathable.

I'm also thinking about outside and inside in the metaphorical sense.

How much of our lives at this point are going outside our normal routines, routes, and ruts? And we learn– about ourselves and the world– through those experiences outside ourselves.

So how can we embrace novelty and "going outside" more?

Get your hiking shoes on.

We're going outside.

*L’Esprit Nouveau Pavilion in Bologna, Italy by Le Corbusier; Photograph by* *Matteo Carassale*

Identity Portfolio: Outside Work

It's summer 2013 in LA.

One of my greatest joys is playing monthly shows at a bar with a group of 20ish people called "The Classic Rock Singalong." After two years, I still don't know ANYTHING about any of them except that they're killer musicians. We don't really talk about work or our personal lives. We just play together.

They know me as the guy who played piano.

This is in stark contrast to my life at work– my first job after college was at an ad agency in LA. I joined the softball team and basketball team, went to happy hours every week, and I stayed late and worked weekends with my team like a badge of honor.

My social life was tied to that agency.
My identity was there.
10 years ago this month–June 2013– I quit working in advertising.

And because of that, I learned that without a job, it can be disorienting to find a new identity.

The more that work becomes everything– a place where we find our friends, our value, our purpose, our identity– the more that we have to consciously create separate spaces outside of work.

The Classic Rock Singalong was part of my identity portfolio.
It's an idea I've been sitting with for over 10 years now. That I make investments in different parts of my identity in order to diversify and broaden the idea of who I am. Not just myself at work.

We need to be of value in different ways to different people who know us in different contexts. Because if who we are and what we provide is solely focused on productivity, bottom-line, or profits, when those things inevitably fall short, WE don't need to.

Invest in your selves.

*Photograph from the "I Fought The Law" series by Olivia Locher*

Emotions and Language

I've got Abe slung over my shoulder, screaming as he is desperately reaching, crying, scratching, trying anything to get to Lauren.

But she's laying with Golda who's melting down because she's hungry (she didn't like what we cooked for dinner), she's tired (under no circumstances will she go to bed before Abe), and we turned the TV off 6 seconds too early (the show is not done until the next episode appears).

He's loud which riles her up screaming even louder.

We're still an hour out from bedtime; all Lauren and I can do is look at each other and laugh.

The next day, Golda explains,
"I was sad because it was too loud and I also wanted to watch TV and have some space."
"And are you sad now?"
"No! I'm happy."

Together, we talk about feelings the way we talk about sickness. Or hunger.
Feelings come from outside our body.
They visit our insides.
Then leave.

Even when they take over, they're temporary.
|Seth Godin writes: we don't say, "I am a fever."
We say "I have a fever"... because it's temporary.
It's not part of our identity. Perhaps we should talk about emotions the same way.

I have a fear is different than "I am afraid."

I feel sad.

I'm experiencing anxiety right now.

This situation is overwhelming.

You are not your emotions.

Emotions are just visiting.

Being the Bouncer of Your Attention

Imagine the front door of your house.
The color, the texture, the locks. The feeling of the knob in your palm. The sound when it closes.
It keeps you safe.

Who we choose to let in matters because anyone inside is encroaching on our space.
Our house is private.

It’s easy to think about the barrier of a door to guard the entrance of a physical space.
But what about the entrance to your mental space?
If our mind is a house, most of us have an open door policy.
Anyone with an email address, a phone number, or an app you've downloaded can just get right in.
Buzz!
20% off!
Hey, it's Joe.
We miss you.
Your dentist says happy birthday.
Check out this link.
Ping!

These distractions enter our mind uninvited and often overstay their welcome.
Just like your house has limited space and valuable items, your mind is worth protecting.
Your attention is valuable.

What would it look like to close the door?
Wait, maybe even back up: what would it look like to have a door?
What might it feel like to have a bouncer?

To set up your tech so that only certain people, apps, and timing allows only certain people in. “Sorry you’re not important enough to get my attention when you want it. The VIPs are inside, but you, Sales email and social IM? You’ll have to wait and pay a cover.”

To block notifications and messages would be like a note on your door that says, “Please leave deliveries for me here. I’ll be home later to pick them up on my own time.”

You protect your house and lock your door.
Probably worth considering if you should protect your attention, too.
Maybe it’s time to change your open-door policy.

Outside My Experience

There is one central paradox of being a parent:
I want my children to have a better life than mine, but in creating that for them, I am limited by my own experience.

If I want to break a cycle, or change the way I teach my kids to do anything, I need to find new models and consciously, intentionally, update the patterns that I was raised with and born with.

The process of gaining experience–
any learning for that matter–
brings the world outside, in.

***

I hope that you found something outside your world from this month's Refrigerator to change your inside. Thank you to all of you who read this every month, reflect, and talk about this and never respond. I see you.

With gratitude,

Jake