2014

There were 66 posts published in 2014 (this is page 2 of 7).

The Law of Attraction and the Power of Action

I’m not a fan of the Law of Attraction, the idea that people bring into their lives the things they think about. In fact, I think it’s bullshit. In The Secret, Rhonda Byrne explains how this “law” is purported to work:

Thoughts are magnetic, and thoughts have a frequency. As you think, those thoughts are sent out into the Universe, and they magnetically attract all like things that are on the same frequency. Everything sent out returns to its source. And that source is You.

[…]

It takes no time for the Universe to manifest what you want. It is as easy to manifest one dollar as it is to manifest one million dollars.

This kind of stuff makes me SO TENSE. To quote Han Solo, “No mystical energy field controls my destiny.” Authors like Byrne do a disservice to folks who ought to be changing their lives by becoming more active participants in their futures instead of passively “manifesting” what they want.

That said, I do believe our thoughts create our reality. As positive psychology has demonstrated, the things we choose to think about and how we choose to think about them can have a profound impact on the quality of our daily experience. If you focus on the negative, life is more likely to suck for you than if you were to spend more time paying attention to what’s right with your world.

Plus, I cannot deny that the more open I am about my intentions — about what I want do and how I want to do it — the more help I get from unexpected sources. But the key here is that I have to intentionally put myself out there for anything to happen. I have to take action. Hoping and wishing and thinking aren’t enough.

For instance, Kim and I are in the middle of planning some future adventures. We want to spend some of our vacation time traveling the U.S. in an RV or trailer, seeing the sights and filming the people we meet along the way. There are a couple of complications, though.

  • First, neither one of us has experience with RVs or trailers. We need to figure out what the heck we’re doing before we hit the road. Will we rent? Buy? New or used? How much space will we need? If we tow a trailer, what kind of truck should we buy?
  • Second, how do we document our journey? I can write, obviously, and I’ve had some modest success with my amateur photography (one photo published, some prizes at the county fair). But my video skills are rudimentary. How do we produce quality shorts that people want to watch while keeping the gear and hassle to a minimum?

The old J.D. would have dealt with these dilemmas by thinking and reading and hoping. But the new me has learned something useful: If I talk about my plans with the people I meet, help often appears. I think of this as playing the lottery of life. Each time I meet with somebody, it’s like I’m receiving a lottery ticket. Most of these tickets don’t pay off, but sometimes I gain new knowledge, new experience, new friends.

Over the past few months, I’ve been talking about our proposed trip with the people I meet. Last month at Fincon, for example, A.J. and Walter interviewed me for the SmartAsset blog. As they were setting up their gear, I realized they might be able to give me some tips.

“Tell me about your camera setup,” I said. “What gear do you use and why?” Walter and A.J. described their equipment and the rationale behind each piece. Later, Walter sent me an email with a more detailed explanation. Based on his recommendations — and the recommendations of a few other folks I talked to — I’ve expanded my kit of camera equipment. I’m ready to dabble with video. (The sound and lighting stuff still worry me, but I feel prepared for the actual filming part of the project.)

Here’s another example: A couple of weeks ago, Scott and Chelsea were in town. Because I’ve wanted to get to know them better, I took them out to lunch. Over Thai food, I told them how I wanted to learn more about video production.

“I know somebody you should talk to,” Scott told me. “You need to meet Chase Reeves.” A few days later, Scott made an email introduction. Chase and I met earlier this week we spent an hour getting to know each other. He shared some of what he’s learned about creating podcasts and video for the web.

Or last week, my ex-wife and I spent a couple of hours together in the car. As we drove, Kris and I talked about how our lives are going and what we plan to do in the future. I mentioned that Kim and I might buy an RV but have no place to park it.

“You could park it at my place,” Kris offered. “But you’d have to let me use it when you’re not on the road.”

“That sounds fair,” I said. Another problem solved.

One last example: In just a few minutes, I’ll head to north Portland to meet with Cherie and Chris from Technomadia. This couple has been on the road since April 2006 (the same month I started Get Rich Slowly!), moving from a sixteen-foot trailer to a full-sized Greyhound bus. I emailed them yesterday to see if we could chat online. They upped the ante. “We’re in Portland,” they wrote. “Come see our bus.” Once I look at how they live, I plan to take them to lunch and ask them what they’ve learned during their years on the road.

Here’s my point: Although I despise The Secret and the Law of Attraction, there really is something similar at work in the universe. But that something only works when you go beyond wishing.

When we’re open about what we want, when we begin to take action, things almost seem to magically come together. Wishing and hoping aren’t enough, though. They key to making this magic is to take action. Action is the catalyst that attracts people and knowledge — and all of that other good stuff — into our lives.

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: ‘Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!’ — William Hutchinson Murray (1913-1996), The Scottish Himalaya Expedition

Meet the New Blog (Same as the Old Blog)

On the surface, things have been quiet around here lately. Underneath, however, there’s been a flurry of activity.

A few weeks ago, I was asked to rename this blog from “More Than Money”. But what to name it? You folks offered lots of suggestions — along with encouragement to write more often (and about whatever the hell I want).

In the end, I realized the best name was the first name. I’m going to call this site Foldedspace, which was the name I picked for the blog back when I started it in 2001. (My previous web journals from 1997, 1998, and 1999 either had no name or were called “Great Expectations”.)

Foldedspace is back!

Meanwhile, I’ve updated my blogging software to the current version of WordPress (4.0) and have upgraded all of my WordPress plugins. I also installed the latest version of the “theme” this blog is built on.

But that’s not all!

I took the time to import most of my old articles from previous versions of Foldedspace, and I’ve built an archives page that allows easy access to this content. (Note that there’s a bunch of stuff from before 2005 that remains trapped in a dead database. I’ll get it over here eventually.)

Plus I updated the about page and created a page dedicated to my best articles from this site and others (including Get Rich Slowly).

But wait! There’s more!

I spent several hours re-vamping the sidebar here at Foldedspace. For the six of you who actually visit this site on a regular basis, you’ll now find my Twitter and Instagram feeds, my most recent bookmarks at Delicious, and an up-to-date blogroll linking to the latest posts from some of my friends and colleagues.

If you look at the image box in the upper-right corner, you’ll see that I’ve doubled the number of photos that are cycled randomly. (I get a lot of questions about these photos, by the way. Just to be clear: They’re all images by me or of me. They tend to be photos of my travels or of my daily life. Each image is meaningful to me in some way.)

There’s been another, more important change behind the scenes. Just as several other old-school bloggers have re-dedicated themselves to “middle-form” content over the past month (Matt, Andy, Gina), I’ve made that leap as well.

No more fretting over what’s okay to post here. It’s my site; I’ll share what I want to share. I hope you like it, but if you don’t, that’s okay. If I post too many cat videos and you need to unsubscribe, I’ll understand.

There’s still quite a bit of housekeeping to be done. I want to get those “lost” articles imported, for instance. Also, during the process of importing past posts, I created several duplicate categories. As a result, categories are useless right now (so I’ve removed them from the site). I want to fix that. And more. I want to do lots more.

Right now, though, it’s time to head to the gym.

Welcome back to Foldedspace…

Why You Shouldn’t Keep Pumpkins Indoors

This post is meant as a public service announcement for pumpkin carvers everywhere — but especially those who might consider keeping a carved pumpkin indoors for a day or two.

Don’t do it.

Eighteen months ago, I moved into a condo. Last year, Kim and I were too busy to carve pumpkins, so we didn’t bother. This year, however, she’s been feel especially festive, so we decided to decorate with style.

Two weeks ago, we took a trip to Kruger’s on Sauvie Island to pick pumpkins with Sahra and the Limbaughs. The day was lovely, and included a rare double rainbow.

Double rainbow at the pumpkin patch
Double rainbow at the pumpkin patch (only one rainbow shown)

We all picked pumpkins. Kim and I took home three. Here’s Reagan with hers:

Reagan with her pumpkin
Reagan with her pumpkin

At home, Kim and I put on the big band music and poured some champagne. We spent several hours carving our pumpkins.

Kim carves her first pumpkin
Kim carves her first pumpkin

They looked great!

Two jack o' lanterns
Two of our three jack o’ lanterns

We turned off the lights, lit the jack o’ lanterns and all of our candles, and then watched an old movie. Everything felt like fall.

So far, nothing unusual, right? Well, here’s the thing: Neither of us has ever lived in a condo before. We’ve only ever kept our jack o’ lanterns outside. In our current place, though, that doesn’t make much sense. Sure, we have three balconies, but if we put our pumpkins on them, nobody will see them.

Instead, we put one pumpkin in the hallway, one on the liquor cabinet, and one in the living room. So festive!

On Tuesday night — 72 hours after carving our pumpkins — we sat down for dinner as normal. “Hey,” Kim said, pointing at the pumpkin across the room. “Doesn’t that look like it’s slumping over a little?”

“It does look a little crooked,” I said. “I wonder why.”

“I think it’s okay,” she said.

A few minutes later, however, we both noticed that the pumpkin was not okay. “Holy cats,” I said. “I think it’s melting!” And indeed, that’s what it looked like. Kim got up to check things out.

“Get the garbage can!” she said. “And a towel!” I ran to the kitchen to grab the emergency tools. Thinking ahead, I also grabbed my phone. When I reached Kim’s side, this is what I saw:

A melted pumpkin
“Help me! I’m melting…”

Our pumpkin really had melted. When Kim pulled off the top, a mass of fruit flies flew spewed forth. A thick green mold coated the entire inside of the pumpkin. When I tried to pick it up, I was in for another surprise. The pumpkin no longer had any sort of structural integrity. It just sort of oozed in my arms so that there was no way to lift it into the trash can. We were forced to scoop it over in a wet and mushy heap.

“I wonder if the other pumpkins are okay,” I said.

We went to check the pumpkin on the liquor cabinet. “This one seems okay,” Kim said. But then I poked it and my finger sunk all the way through the skin. When Kim lifted the top, there was the same green mold and the same mass of fruit flies. That pumpkin too ended up in the trash. And so did the one in the hall (which wasn’t as bad as the other two, but soon would have been).

The moral of this story? Don’t keep carved pumpkins indoors. Let our foolishness serve as a warning to you all!

Thoughts on Taking Risks, Making Mistakes, and Solving Problems

Faith in ParisLast night, I met with my friend Faith. Faith is eighteen, and she’s just getting started in life. Her parents are two of my best friends, but they’re still parents. You know what I mean. Faith wanted to meet with me one-on-one to talk about family stuff and to talk about boys.

I’m not the best person to give advice about dating, but I did the best I could.

Taking Risks

Earlier this year, Faith made a bold move. She’d been hanging out with a boy she really liked, but she was tired of waiting for him to ask her out. “You should ask him out,” Kim told her. And so she did. The boy said “no”, though, and now Faith regrets making the move.

“That was a mistake,” she said.

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “Sometimes we have to take risks in order to get what we want.” I was thinking about how people on their deathbeds tend to regret the things they didn’t do rather than the things they did. “It’s not a mistake to go after what you want. But that doesn’t mean you’ll always get it.”

Faith seemed unconvinced.

“Look,” I said. I pulled out my pen and notebook and drew a diagram.

“Here’s how I see it. You can sit on the sideline and not take risks, and you’ll never get what you really want. You won’t have to suffer failure, and that’s great, but you’ll just have to take what life gives you. Or you can take an active role in your life, make some bold moves, and run the risk of getting rejected. Or failing.”

I drew five circles and then crossed out four of them. “In my case, I probably fail about eighty percent of the time. Only about one out of every five things I try works out. But you know what? Twenty percent of the time, I get what I want. Some people see my life and think, ‘Wow, J.D. is lucky.’ There’s no question that in many ways I am. But I’ve learned that I get luckier the more things I try.”

This concept has become a core piece of my philosophy. It’s a precept preached by plenty of people in the world of positive psychology and personal development. But I think it may have been the first time Faith had heard of it — or maybe the first time it clicked. I’m not sure she’ll take my advice, but I hope she will. The bolder and braver she becomes, the more she’ll get what she wants out of life. (My bottom-line dating advice for Faith? Instead of asking the boy out, she should have kissed him!)

Making Mistakes

Faith and I also talked about making mistakes. Sometimes we do the wrong thing and we end up hurting ourselves. Or, worse, we hurt others. Sometimes we do these dumb things despite knowing better or not wanting to do them.

Faith beats herself up over her mistakes. Many of us do. But I’ve learned that the key to coping with mistakes is to own them, fix them (when possible), and move on.

Here’s an example.

Last week, I tried to pull together a whisky night with my friends Sean and Tyler. Originally, we planned to get together Thursday night but then Sean realized he’d double-booked. “How about we get together Sunday night instead?” he asked. We all agreed. But there were complications.

  • First, Sunday was Kim’s birthday.
  • Second, our original plans included our sweethearts. When things changed, Kim explicitly told me “no girls”. She wanted to spend time with Tate and Jesse if they came over but Kim already had plans for Sunday evening. During rescheduling, I forgot to relay this key condition.

On Sunday afternoon, while I was out buying cheese and sausage for the whisky tasting, I realized that Sean and Tyler still planned to bring Tate and Jesse. Instead of clearing up the confusion immediately, I sent an awkward text message that just made things worse. Tyler and Sean were confused and Kim was angry. (She never gets angry with me!)

The old J.D. would have hemmed and hawed and dug the hole deeper, but the new me took action. I owned my mistake and apologized to everyone involved. We cancelled the whisky night, and will schedule it for a time when the six of us can have a relaxed evening together.

Mistakes suck. It would be great to live a life without mistakes. But you know what? We’re all human. As a result, we do dumb things from time to time. Or we do things that seem smart when we do them but later turn out to cause woe. When this happens, the best course of action is to solve the problem as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Solving Problems

The Road Less Traveled by M. Scott PeckAnd this is the thing: Often we are so afraid of fixing what’s wrong — whether or not it’s an actual mistake — that we choose to live with a broken situation. That’s crazy!

I’ve begun to re-read M. Scott Peck’s The Road Less Traveled. This book had a profound impact on me two years ago, and I’ve been feeling like it’s time to revisit it. I’m glad I am.

Peck’s thesis is that “life is difficult”. He argues that understanding (and accepting) that life is difficult is the key to being happy and fulfilled. To Peck, life gains meaning through recognizing and solving problems. “Problems call forth our courage and our wisdom,” he writes. “Indeed, they create our courage and our wisdom.”

He goes further. He says that our “tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all human mental illness”:

Fearing the pain involved, almost all of us, to a greater or lesser degree, attempt to avoid problems. We procrastinate, hoping that they will go away. We ignore them, forget them, pretend they do not exist. We even take drugs to assist us in ignoring them, so that that by deadening ourselves to the pain we can forget the problems that cause the pain. We attempt to skirt around problems rather than meet them head on. We attempt to get out of them rather than suffer through them.

It’s like tearing off a bandage or diving into a cold lake. If you avoid the action, it takes on greater power in your mind until you’re suffering more from the imagined event than you would from the event itself. Peck’s philosophy — in my words — is to say “fuck it”, tear off the bandage or jump in the lake, and just get the damn thing over with. You suffer for mere moments and can move on with life.

For a long time, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t tear off the bandage or dive into the lake. I wallowed in unhealthy relationships and allowed myself to remain mired in work I hated. Even today — despite knowing I should make quick, clean breaks — I sometimes stay stuck in situations that suck. But I’m getting better.

Last night, Faith told me that she’s going through a period of her life where she has to make some tough decisions. Will she go to college? If so, where? What will she study? Will she live at home or move out on her own? What should she do about certain friendships that she knows are bringing her down? And what about those darned boys?

It’s an exciting time for her, but it’s also scary. Small choices today will have huge repercussions for years to come. There’s pressure to make the “right” decisions. I hope our conversation helped her to see there’s a profit to be gained from taking calculated risks instead of playing it safe by waiting. And if some of the risks she takes turn out to be failures or mistakes, that’s okay.

Though it now seems trite, I think Nietzsche had it right: “What does not kill me makes me stronger.” Or, to use a more eloquent Spanish proverb, “No hay mal que por bien no venga.” (That is, “There is no bad from which good does not come.”) Failures, mistakes, and problems aren’t the end of the world. In fact, sometimes they’re beginnings in disguise.

What Should I Call This Blog?

Over four years ago, I sold Get Rich Slowly, the little personal-finance blog that I somehow built into a behemoth. After the sale, I thought I’d leave the site quickly — but I stuck around for three years.

Eventually, I moved on. I tried to return to Folded Space, the personal blog that I started in 1997, but it didn’t feel right. Instead, I moved all my writing here to jdroth.com.

“I don’t know what to call my new site,” I told my friend Adam Baker (from Man vs. Debt) at Fincon a couple of years ago.

“You can’t you just call it J.D. Roth?” he asked.

“I could,” I said. “But I want some sort of title that conveys what I’m writing about. I’m moving beyond just personal finance. I want to write about more than money.”

“Well,” he said. “Why not call it that? Why not call your blog More Than Money?”

And so this site was christened.

Time passed. I wrote about fear and happiness and freedom. Much of the time, I didn’t write. Other times, like now, I felt like I was bursting at the seams with things to say. But through it all, this site was More Than Money.

Yesterday, I received an email. A fellow named Gene Dickison wrote to tell me that he owns the trademark to ‘More Than Money’. “I respectfully request you discontinue the use of [the name],” he said.

At first, I thought it was a joke. But a quick check at the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office revealed that there are several trademark registrations for “More Than Money”, including one for Dickison and his company. I spent some time reading through the trademark rules and regulations, and based on that cursory scan I felt as if my use of the name were not infringing on anyone’s rights — but at the same time, I don’t want to waste any time, money, or energy to challenge this.

I’ve exchanged email with Dickison — who, aside from making this claim, has been civil and pleasant — and told him that although I don’t agree that I’m infringing, I’ll change the name of this blog.

But to what?

Several folks on social media have recommended that I not name the blog anything. For instance, Rob from Dough Roller wrote:

Rob's recommendation on Facebook

Many people agreed that I should just call the site “J.D. Roth” and be done with it. Maybe so.

I have a couple of weeks to think about this and make a decision. What do you think I should call this blog? And while we’re at it, are there specific topics you come here to read about? I’m always amazed that this site has so many readers, especially given the random topics that I tend to cover. But then maybe that’s why you all stick around: because you know that I’ll write about early retirement, fitness, travel, and cuddly furry animals — all in one place. Thoughts?

On a completely unrelated note, I finally convinced iMovie to upload the 8-minute video I made featuring footage of last month’s our motorcycle trip along the Oregon coast:

This was my first experiment with a GoPro. And although I find much of the scenery pretty to look at, the video will probably only be of interest to hard-core motorcycle fans. You have been warned!

Which Scotch is Best? A Macallan Taste Test

Last week at Fincon, I spent some time becoming acquainted with Shannyn Allan, who writes about finance and fashion at Frugal Beautiful. Though we’ve known each other for three years, we’d never spent time getting to know each other until this conference.

Shannyn says that she can be an enigma to some men. She’s a self-confessed nerd. “Plus, most men don’t know what to think of a woman who orders a ten-year-old Scotch.”

If that’s the case, most men are dumb.

On the final night of the conference, a group of us (a horde of us, really) sat around the hotel lobby, chatting and drinking drinks. The subject of whisky came up again. Since I was sitting with Shannyn and Jim Wang (among whose many blogs is Scotch Addict), I decided to have a little fun.

I found Sylvana, the woman who’d been our waitress all week. “Sylvana,” I said, “I want a couple of glasses of your very best Scotch.”

She went behind the bar and looked at the shelf. “We have a Macallan 18,” she said.

“That’ll be just fine,” I said. I’d never tried the Macallan 18 before, but I suspected it would be good. And it was. I took a glass to Shannyn and I kept one for myself. Once Jim discovered what we were drinking, he ordered one too. We sipped the Scotch and marveled at its smooth and silky nature.

“That’s good,” Shannyn said. Jim and I nodded in agreement.

When we’d finished our drinks, I went back to Sylvana. “It’s my last order of the week,” I said, “and I’d like another glass of the Macallan.” She gave me a sly smile. Then, presumably because I’d tipped well for the last five nights, she gave me a whopper of a pour. The three of us gratefully shared the drink.

Fast-forward to last Tuesday. I was driving home from errands when Shannyn sent me a text. “Is the 15-year Macallan as good as the 18-year Macallan?” she asked. Her timing was impeccable. I was just passing the last liquor store before home. I pulled in to the parking lot.

“Don’t buy anything,” I replied. “I’ll do a little test.”

And so I bought a bottle of the 15-year Macallan and a bottle of the 18-year Macallan. Then, for good measure, I bought a bottle of the 12-year Macallan to add to the mix.

Note: Under no circumstances was this a frugal thing to do, I’m well aware. But I’m a whisky drinker. I knew that these bottles would fit nicely with my existing library of Scotches.

Then I drove home and made a little video:

As you can see, I had a lot of fun with this project. (And as you can also see, I forgot to edit the title card at the end of the clip. Haha.) It’s been pleasing to find that the folks who watch this find it as amusing as I do.

This is the second video I’ve posted this week. (It’s actually the third if you count the video of our recent motorcycle trip.) There’ll be more.

Kim and I are embarking on a fun, open-ended project in 2015 that will be very video intensive. As part of that, we’ll be filming interviews with dozens of people.

But while I feel I’m an acceptable amateur photographer, I know next to nothing about videography. I’ve solicited advice from some of my colleagues (David Hobby, Wes Wages, etc.), and their recommendations will help me track down the lighting and sound gear I need. Having good gear is great, of course, but what I need to do most right now is get practice using the gear.

To that end, I’ll be creating lots of short one-off videos. Many of them will be about silly things — like drinking Scotch. I won’t publish all of them here, but I do hope to share the best ones.

Next up? This afternoon, Kim and I are headed to Oregon’s wine country to do a bit of tasting. Who knows? Maybe I’ll put together a short clip about that…

Blog Consolidation, Step One: Far Away Places

I just returned from Fincon, the annual conference for financial bloggers and other folks who write about money. After a week in New Orleans with my colleagues, I’m inspired to become a better blogger. For me, that’s going to be easy. It just means I have to post more regularly around here!

As part of that, I’ve begun to do something I threatened to do several months ago. I’m consolidating my writing into one place. Instead of having dozens of blogs scattered across the internet, I’m compressing many of them into this single site. That means moving old articles from those places to here.

My hope is that this doesn’t create a deluge in your inbox and RSS feeds. As I move these articles over, I’m giving them their original dates. I hope that means they don’t get published as new, but I could be wrong. I’m also moving many at once so that if they do get pushed out in email, they all get pushed in one giant email on the same day. I apologize for any inconvenience.

The first articles I’m moving over here are from Far Away Places, my defunct travel blog. That blog has been broken for years, and people can’t even view the past posts. Plus, Kim and I want to use that domain for an upcoming project. (I’ve told many of you about this project in person, but I’m not ready to publicize it on the web. Soon though!)

In case you’re curious, here’s a list of the 22 articles I moved over yesterday:

I’m not sure which articles I’ll move next. There’s no rush, of course. And if all of this flooded your inboxes, I might actually put the project on hold. I’m hopeful, though, that this is a way to consolidate all of my online writing in one place!

Please let me know if this process was a problem from your end…

How I Pack for Travel

I like to travel.

Since 2007, I’ve visited twenty countries and eighteen states (where “visit” is defined as “spent the night”). I’m not on some mad quest to uncover every corner of the planet — although that does sound fun — but I like taking time to travel to new places.

Travel isn’t without its annoyances, however. Bad taxi drivers, sketchy hotels, and long layovers are just a few of the headaches we all encounter. To make things easier, most frequent travelers develop certain systems to make life easier.

I just returned from a week in New Orleans, for instance. Yesterday, I rode to the airport with my friend Ryan Guina (one of the funniest and friendliest men alive). To make his life simpler when flying, Ryan does a couple of things. For one, he wears shoes that slip on and off with ease. He keeps his belt in his carry-on until he’s through security. And most importantly, he carries a ziploc bag that contains everything else that would normally be in his pockets.

Smart man. I think I’ll have to copy his ziploc bag trick.

Doing so shouldn’t be too tough. You see, ziploc bags are actually the cornerstone of my own packing philosophy. In fact, when Kim and I returned from Ecuador a couple of weeks ago, I made this short video that explains my entire packing system — ziploc bags and all.


This video contains the exact same info found in this article — but in visual form.

For those who’d like more detail (or who aren’t interested in watching the video), here’s how I pack for long trips.

The Bags

First up, let’s talk about bags. I’m a self-confessed bag junkie, and my closet contains about a dozen packs and suitcases of different shapes and sizes. None are perfect but some come close.

When I travel abroad, I take three bags.

  • First, there’s my main bag. This contains my clothes and my “kits” (explained in a moment) and is almost always (95% of the time) a carry-on sized bag. If I think I’ll be stationary, staying in the same hotel for days or weeks, I might take a suitcase. But generally I take a backpack. My preferred pack is a discontinued model from REI, the 46-liter Vagabond Travel Pack. (There’s an updated model of this pack, but it’s smaller.)

  • Second, there’s my personal bag. This is where I keep the stuff I want close to me at all times: my cameras, my computer, my writing. Whereas I might sometimes check my main bag, I never check my personal bag. This is usually a briefcase-type bag, although sometimes it might be a smaller backpack. My current personal bag is the 72-hour briefcase from Filson. It’s expensive, but I love the layout.

  • Finally, I carry a light, collapsible daypack in the main bag. This is the bag I use while traipsing around Paris or Peru. When I leave my hotel, this is on my back. My current daypack is another discontinued item from REI: the Flash 18 pack. There’s an updated version of the Flash pack but it sucks. The new model has a rigid back which totally defeats the purpose. I don’t know what I’ll do if my Flash 18 gets cut or torn. It’s a workhorse!

These three bags are the backbone of my packing system. Next, lets look at what I carry inside them.

The Clothes

As my ex-wife can tell you, I’m not a fashion-conscious fellow. That’s probably a good thing because travel clothing tends toward the functional rather than the flattering. Or at least my travel clothing does.

When I travel, I usually take two pairs of shoes: a main pair and a comfortable pair. Often, my main footwear is a pair of hiking boots, which I wear on transit days in order to save room in my suitcase. My comfortable pair is usually some sort of sandal (flip-flops, Birkenstocks). Rarely, such as last week in New Orleans, I’ll carry a third pair of shoes for dressy occasions.

On long trips overseas, I bring Ex Officio travel underwear. It’s not flattering nor especially comfortable, but I can wash and dry it quickly. (For shorter trips or for trips in the U.S., I stick with my normal cotton undies.)

Also on long trips overseas, I bring my zip-off pants. Zip-off pants have detachable legs so that they can convert from shorts to slacks quickly and easily. They also tend to have lots and lots of pockets. Some people hate these pants, and I get it. They’re pretty damn ugly — but they’re also pretty damn handy. Do I look like a tourist when I wear them? So be it, I look like a tourist.

When I travel, I always take three to five wool t-shirts. Why wool? Simple. Wool stays cool when it’s warm outside and stays warm when it’s cool. Best of all, wool does not retain odors. I can wear the same wool shirt for several consecutive days and it’ll never stink. I know a guy who once took a single wool t-shirt on a long trip. This was his only shirt. He wore it every day, and he even did daily runs in it. He didn’t have to wash it the entire trip. I swear by my wool t-shirts. You should too. (All of my wool shirts are Icebreaker shirts like this one.)

Lastly, I’ll carry three or four button-down shirts designed for travel. These might have secret pockets or special vents for hot days hiking through the jungle. Which shirts I pack depend on the country I’m visiting and what I plan to do when I arrive.

The Stuff

Earlier I mentioned that I carry “kits” when I travel. That’s because I practice what I call “modular packing”. Simply put, modular packing means I separate my gear into groups of similar items and then pack each group into its own ziploc bag. For instance, I pack everything related to sleeping — my eyemask, my earplugs, my nasal strips, my sleeping pills, my doorstop, etc. — into a single bag.

Note: This is an instance where watching the video will make more sense. If you’re not sure what I mean, go take a gander at my modular packing system.

I have kits for most major activities. I have the afore-mentioned sleep kit, a dental kit, a hygiene kit, an outdoors kit, an electronics kit, and more. Each kit gets its own labeled ziploc bag, and all of the bags live together in a small plastic bin when not in use. I don’t need every kit for every trip. For last week’s trip to New Orleans, for example, I didn’t need the outdoor kit. When I’m packing, I simply grab the bags I need from the bin and I’m good to go.

This system works well except for on transit days. On transit days, I have to transfer all liquids to an extra shared bag so that I can get through security. Once I reach my next stop, I return each liquid to its respective kit.

Perhaps the most important kit in my modular packing system is the bag for travel documents. This is where I keep my passport, along with any vouchers and tickets. As I get receipts on my trip, they go in here too. This is also where I keep my travel itinerary, which is the final piece of my travel gear.

The Itinerary

I’ve learned that for a long trip, it’s vital to have a written itinerary. This document becomes the organizational backbone of the trip.

At the moment I start planning my trip, I create a text document. To start, I include my passport info and my frequent-flyer numbers. As I make my plans, every scrap of info gets placed in the itinerary.

  • When I book my flights, I put the flight numbers, the schedules, the confirmation codes, and everything else into the itinerary. (I’ve developed a standard format for this info.)

  • When I book my hotels, I put the address, phone number, confirmation codes, and other bits of info into the itinerary.

  • When I book a tour or a shuttle, that info goes here too.

Here’s an example of my actual itinerary for our trip to Ecuador last month:

A sample travel itinerary

This document is so important that I carry two printed copies with me. One lives in my pocket at all times and becomes very worn by the end of a long trip. The other lives in the document kit with the passport and my other vital info. Plus I store a digital copy in Dropbox so that I can access it from anywhere in the world.

Note: During our recent trip to Ecuador, I used airmiles to upgrade to business class. Perhaps that was a mistake. Having never flown other than coach, I was unaware just how truly awesome the first-class experience can be. No waiting! Ever! Free airport lounges! Delicious hot food! Hot towels! Free drinks! Priority baggage unloading! Traveling first class takes all the trouble out of travel. It comes with a cost, of course, but sometimes that cost is worth it. For whatever reason, my recent flights to New Orleans didn’t cost much to upgrade — so I did. From now on, I’ll go out of my way to find cheap ways to fly first class. It’s worth it to me.

So, that’s how and why I pack the way I pack. How do you pack? I’d love to learn some new tips, tricks, and tools to make life easier while on the road.

Ecuador 2014: Thoughts on Happiness and Well-Being

Kim and I have just returned from two weeks in Ecuador. For a second year, I participated as a presenter for one of Cheryl Reed’s “Above the Clouds” retreats. Once again, the experience was awesome.

We spent the week of the retreat at the El Encanto Resort outside Los Bancos. (“Resort” is a strong word, in this case. The place was lovely, but it’s not a resort in the way I think of a resort. It was more like a standard American hotel.) El Encanto is located exactly on the equator, near (or in?) Ecuador’s cloud forest. When we woke each morning, we could watch clouds being “born”. Condensation from the river in the valley below would rise in slow, misty columns — not unlike smoke from a bonfire — to form clouds in the sky above. Once, on a bright and sunny day, a wall of fog surged in from the south until everything was dim and grey…and then the fog slipped away as quickly as it arrived.

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Our view from El Encanto

Last year, attendees knew me as J.D. from Get Rich Slowly, which is how I’m accustomed to being identified. But this year was different. This year’s attendees were largely unaware of Get Rich Slowly before the retreat. Instead, they knew me because of this blog. As a result, they went into the week with a different preconception of who I am and what I do. It was interesting.

At Get Rich Slowly, I wrote about my struggle to overcome debt and develop smart financial skills. Over the course of several years, Readers got to see both what I did right and what I did wrong. I presented a real-time log of who I was and what I was becoming.

But here at More Than Money, most of my writing has been centered on presenting a (relatively) polished philosophy that I’ve been developing for a decade. My articles have been all about the things that lead to a happier, more successful life. I haven’t dwelt on my past mistakes, and I haven’t spent much time chronicling my current ups and downs. The result? This blog hasn’t painted an accurate picture of who I am today.

“I was so glad you wrote about your struggle with the doldrums,” Jen told me during a chat early in the retreat. “After reading your blog for several months, I’d begun to believe you were one of those folks who had it all figured out, who never struggled like the rest of us.”

I had to laugh at that characterization. Long-time readers (and those who know me in Real Life) are well-aware that although I’m always trying to become a better person, I’m far from having everything figured out! But Jen’s comment made me realize that even while sharing a well-developed philosophy, I need to leave room to explain the process that led me to these ideas and beliefs. It hasn’t been easy or quick! And I’ve made plenty of wrong turns along the way. Plus, the philosophy continues to evolve as I gain more knowledge and experience.

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During a stop in the town of Nanegalito, we happened upon a town carnival.

The core of the retreat was a series of two-hour presentations from three different speakers. Like last year, I spoke about defeating fear, creating happiness, and choosing freedom. (These are the very ideas I’ve been writing about at this blog for the past year.)

During her presentation, Cheryl Reed went into greater depth about what it means when you choose to be happy. She shared how she used to search for external sources of happiness (new clothes, new job, new home) before realizing that if she wanted to change her life, she had to change her self. She learned that she had to adjust her expectations. She had to change the way she thought and how she responded to situations. (Sound familiar? That’s because we talked about these ideas here at More Than Money earlier this year.)

David Cain (of Raptitude) talked about how to create a life of well-being. He delineated the difference between happiness, which is a mercurial emotional state tied to exceptional short-term circumstances, and well-being, which is a state of mind tied to more permanent long-term circumstances. “Happiness is like emotional weather,” Cain explained, “whereas well-being is like emotional climate. You’re happy because you ordered the salmon; you have well-being because you live in a city you love.”

I liked this differentiation between happiness and well-being. Sure, you could split hairs over terminology, but it’s the concepts here that are important.

Cain says that we’re taught to pursue happiness instead of well-being. Our biological makeup urges us to worry about threats, hoard resources, and eliminate risk and uncertainty. Deep down, we’re still animals just like any other; left to our own devices, our survival instinct takes over. We have to consciously choose to pursue long-term good over short-term pleasure. Meanwhile, society teaches us to compare ourselves to others and to always want more than what we have. This produces a constant yearning for something different. (In personal finance, we call this lifestyle inflation or the hedonic treadmill.)

With wisdom, we can overcome these outside forces to find a personal path to well-being.

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A happy Kim during our visit to the butterfly gardens in Mindo.

In general, well-being is best pursued by:

  • Learning to live in the present. “Suffering comes from resisting the present moment,” says Cain, “from longing for something other than what is.” Once the present is unfolding, it’s already happening and we no longer have a choice about what is occurring, so resisting it only brings unhappiness.

  • Understanding our moods and emotions. There’s nothing wrong with becoming angry or tired or frustrated. But if these are a permanent state, they decrease your well-being. Instead of fighting bad moods or trying to figure them out, learn to “hang out with them”. Don’t make decisions while under the influence of strong emotions, but let them pass.

  • Purposefully cultivating gratitude. Like many before him, Cain says that learning to be thankful for what you have is a key to long-term happiness. Waking in an uncomfortable hostel bed, for example, always makes him grateful for the comfortable bed he has at home. (Or that he even has a bed.) Driving through Ecuador made me thankful for the more calm and orderly roads at home.

  • Learning about and training the mind. If you allow your “monkey mind” to control your actions and dictate your response to life, you’re abdicating responsibility for your well-being. Instead, learn how the mind works. Practice structured meditation and mindfulness in order to feel better and work better. “The more I meditate, the more beautiful I find ordinary moments and events,” Cain says.

Cain says that you ought to cultivate a vision of your ideal life. Where would you live? Who would you be? How would you spend your time? Give yourself permission to pursue this dream. Too many people are reactive, moving away from the things they don’t want instead of toward the things they do. “Fear and desire are competing forces,” Cain says. “But fear doesn’t give you direction and desire does.” (Please re-read that last bit. I’m glossing over it right now, but it’s very important.)

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During our visit to the school, the kids played with a piñata.

Sidebar: I had a rough stretch early in the trip. First, I dropped my digital SLR and shattered the viewscreen. (Fortunately, I’d brought my “cheap” DSLR on this trip.) It still takes photos, but I can’t preview them or make deep changes to the camera settings. Next, my MacBook Air gave up the ghost. While prepping for my talk, it shut itself off. It didn’t restart until after Kim and I had returned to Portland. (I suspect it didn’t like Ecuador’s humidity.) Then the navigation buttons on my Kindle stopped working. And lastly, my own body gave out on the day of my talk. After my presentation, I spent 24 feverish hours curled in bed. Following my own advice, I chose not to let these minor trials and tribulations get me down!

After our week in the cloud forest — which included hiking, a visit to a nearby elementary school, a tour of a chocolate factor, and more — Kim and I spent a couple of days exploring Quito.

Then, last Monday, we hopped on a plane over the Andes to Coca. From there, we took a boat ride up the Napo River and into the Amazon basin. (Never heard of the Napo River? Neither had I, yet it discharges roughly the same amount of water as the Columbia River!) We spent several days exploring the jungle. We saw heaps of bugs and birds and frogs, but also caught glimpses of monkeys and more.

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Kim keeps watch for monkeys and birds in the Amazon jungle.

It was a good trip. We learned a lot and laughed a lot and explored parts of the world we hadn’t seen before. But it’s good to be home. I’m ready to resume writing in earnest — both here and for other outlets — and I’m eager to focus on physical fitness once more. Because, as Jen discovered when she met me, I don’t have it all figured out. I’m still learning and growing, just like everyone else.

Out of the Doldrums

On Saturday, Cody came over to hang out. In a lot of ways, it felt like we were kids again for an afternoon. (Forty-year-old kids but still kids.)

We spent several hours traipsing through nearby neighborhoods. We wandered through parks. We walked through Eastmoreland and imagined what it must be like to live in one of the mansions. We searched the hundred-year-old sidewalks, looking for clues about when they were poured and what the streets used to be named. For lunch, we stopped at Otto’s Sausage Kitchen. As we walked home on the Springwater Trail, we picked blackberries for dessert.

As I say, it was like we were kids again.

“How’s your back?” Cody asked during our stroll.

In April, Kim and I took surfing lessons in San Diego. While trying to “pop up” on my board, I felt my back give out. It hasn’t been the same ever since. And that’s just one of a long line of injuries that has plagued me this year.

“My back is better,” I said. “I’ve been seeing a chiropractor. I was skeptical at first, but there’s no doubt that my mobility has improved. I’ve even been able to do a bit of exercise this week.”

My fitness routine has been in the doldrums for most of the year — even before the back injury. Because of my injuries — and because of my workload — I haven’t exercised nearly as much as I need to (or want to). As a result, I’m fifteen pounds heavier than I was last year at this time. And that’s not fifteen pounds of muscle.

“How’s everything else going?” Cody asked. “I noticed you haven’t been posting on your blog lately.”

“Yeah, that’s a problem too,” I said. “I’m not just in the physical doldrums. I’ve been in the mental doldrums too. I haven’t written anything in weeks. It sucks. To be honest, I haven’t done much of anything for the past two months. I have a long to-do list, but I’ve ignored it all summer. I keep adding things to it, but nothing ever gets crossed off.”

“I get like that sometimes,” Cody said. “I’ll have a few days that are intensely productive and then it’s like I’m drained. I sit around and do nothing for a day or two — except maybe look at Facebook.”

“My pattern is a little different,” I said. “I’m productive for weeks or months at a time. But then something shuts off. Some switch inside my head is triggered and all I can do is watch TV, read trashy novels, or play videogames. After a few weeks in the doldrums, something toggles the switch in the other direction and suddenly I’m productive again.”

“Do you know what flips the switch on or off?” Cody asked.

“No,” I said. “I wish I did. My entire family seems to be like this. My brother has lost a lot of weight this year, for instance, but it’s because he’s completely devoted to his fitness program. He flipped a switch in his head and now he’s eating well and exercising. My cousin is like this too. It’s just a part of being a Roth, I guess.”

Note: I wonder if this “all or nothing” behavior style — something that both my ex-wife and current girlfriend have noted — is related to the relationship between moderators and abstainers.

“Fortunately, I’ve started pulling out of this current funk,” I said. “When Kim and I got home on Tuesday” — we took a long weekend motorcycle ride to the Oregon Coast — “we spent several hours cleaning the condo. The next day, I challenged myself to see how much I could get done on my to-do list. That was so satisfying that I did the same on Thursday. And Friday. I feel like I’ve turned things around. On Monday, I plan to sit down at my desk and start writing again.”

Cody nodded. “It’s like inertia,” he said.

“Exactly,” I said. “When I’m in the doldrums, it’s just so easy to keep loafing, to keep doing nothing. But once I start moving, it’s as if that momentum has a life of its own. The trick is to force myself to get moving. That’s one reason that I like to exercise first thing in the morning. If I get out of bed and go to the gym, or if I get out of bed and go for a walk, then I know I’ve done that one important thing before the day has even begun. That knowledge helps propel me to do the next thing, and the thing after that. It’s like a snowball.”

“Exactly,” Cody said. “Plus, if you’re productive early, then if you reach midday and find you’ve run out of steam, you still have all of that stuff you got done in the morning. That’s satisfying.”

Cody and I continued to talk about life, the universe, and everything. We walked home, got on our motorcycles, and rode to the Portland Timbers match.

Sunday morning, I got up at five in order to participate in the Portland Bridge Pedal. By ten, I’d ridden my bike for fifty miles through the city streets. I was exhausted, but I felt good. I knew I’d exercised for the day. And this morning? This morning, I got up and started to write again.

It feels like I’ve pulled myself out of the doldrums, and that makes me happy. Being productive feels a lot better than loafing around all day.

At the start of the Portland Bridge Pedal
On the top of the Fremont Bridge, at the start of the bike ride.