A couple of weeks ago, I took a taxi back into New York City from JFK airport. Usually, when I step off the plane, I feel a wave of relief. Finally home. This time, the city’s energy hit me like a wall. Its intensity poured into the car through the windows and vents. Manhattan’s distant spires seemed to scream ‘work’ at me before embracing me as the car slowly made its way through their valleys.
My Bangladeshi-American driver had been operating a yellow cab since the early ‘90s. No accidents until last year, when he was hit by a drunk driver racing down midtown at midnight. He’d spent several days in a coma and proudly showed me pictures and scars. Now he was back from the underworld, back to driving those same roads. He was also a partner in several franchise restaurants which meant dealing partners, managers, hiring, and the daily P&L. It’s this kind of hustle that the city demands.
I used to take this as a given, but it’s not.
I stared out the window realizing I could live among mountains and trees. I could spend my days conversing with birds and rivers. No doubt, I already missed being in nature’s nourishing fold. But I chose to be back in the valleys of concrete rather than eternal rock. I chose to be back because there was work to be done.
We tend to look at places in terms of prestige, pleasure, and opportunity. It’s how we seem to treat everything in our lives: what does this do for me? What does this say about me? How does this serve me?
Is this place good for my career? Does it offer a lot of opportunity? Can I find someone to date? What about entertainment and fun? What about the weather?
Sure, we consider rent, the general cost of living, and other obvious trade-offs. We think about the commute, crime, maybe noise and pollution. But we rarely ask more subtle yet important questions: what does this place ask of me? What exchange is taking place between it and its inhabitants? How does this place shape people?
How will this place and its people work on me, day and night? What values and ideas am I going to absorb? Who am I going to become here? Do I like the people who get old here? Can I see myself as one of them?
In markets they say that you ‘buy your portfolio every day’. Not acting is a decision. The same is true in life, at least in the first 10,000 days, before the responsibilities start to mount. Every day you live in one place, you choose not to live in another. Choose wisely. If you’ve chosen a place of extremes (large city, remote countryside), balance your experience regularly with its opposite.
As for me, my new awareness created a sense of urgency: do what you can while you’re here. Immerse yourself in opportunities to learn, experience, and connect. Embrace the opportunity to meet more people and be helpful. Do as much as you can until you feel the need to return to nature.
☕ An invitation
I am working on a few different ways to connect. The first and simplest one is an open invitation to share coffee or lunch. I plan on spending more time again at the New York Public Library in midtown, which makes this a no-brainer. If you’re a premium subscriber and interested in getting together, use the link below to get in touch with me.
I won’t be doing more than a couple of these a week which means I can’t make any promises if there is a lot of demand.
There is a catch (of course there is!). Time is precious and I don’t do well with small talk. I’d rather read, meditate, or sit in the park than talk sports or the weather. Just not my cup of tea. If you’re interested in meeting, you have to show up with things to talk about. You’ll see what I mean in the contact form.
Who is this for? Maybe you’re a portfolio manager with the ambition to become one of the legends. Maybe you’re an analyst dreaming of running your own fund eventually. Maybe you invest your own or your family’s capital and stare at the family office conundrum. Maybe you’re a fellow creative or business owner/founder wrestling with the maze of life, with ambition and creativity. Maybe you’ve mastered the money game but there’s still something missing in your life. Maybe your Infinite Ladder needs re-aligning. You tell me what’s going on (use the form below).
Until next time,
Frederik