the Piper Paradigm.

I am thinking about a comment made at dinner by a friend a few years back. While I don’t recall anything else about the conversation, I remember when he said (dreamily, as if it were an out-of-reach impossibility) – “I wish I could just take off and travel across the U.S. in an RV with my wife and my kids.” I was so surprised by this comment that I don’t think I said anything useful at the time. I was surprised because I was thinking – You are maybe the most capable person I know of doing exactly that right now.

This comment was made by one of the most ‘successful’ people I know personally – high paying career, solid rental portfolio, the person through which I first heard about Dave Ramsey (the starting point of this whole journey). I thought, Why on earth are YOU, of all people, NOT doing that thing??

This reminded me of a quote from the wonderful book Vagabonding, by Rolf Potts, in which Rolf references a quote from the movie Wall Street, where Charlie Sheen’s character is talking about his dreams – “I think if I can make a bundle of cash before I’m thirty and I can get out of this racket, I’ll be able to ride my motorcycle across China.”

I believe I said “HA!” loudly when I first read this. An appropriate reaction. Rolf goes on to say:

“When I first saw this scene on video a few years ago, I nearly fell out of my seat in astonishment. After all, Charlie Sheen or anyone else could work for eight months as a toilet cleaner and have enough money to ride a motorcycle across China. Even if they didn’t yet have their own motorcycle, another couple months of scrubbing toilets would earn them enough to buy one when they got to China.”

“WHOA!!!” I believe I said next (also highly appropriate). See, this was validating to a viewpoint I already held that was only becoming more solidified with each passing day. What I wasn’t prepared for at the time was how different the people around me viewed the world.

My friend’s comment that day paid homage to a very common American mindset – a duty to fear, consumerism and monthly payments, and the ever-present excuse (well-intentioned but an excuse nonetheless) that we are working so hard “for our children,” all whilst dreaming of some seemingly unattainable future adventure.

I am not aiming to tell you to stop what you’re doing immediately and go clean toilets for eight months. Rather this is an invitation to examine your life with your head tilted just a bit to the side.

I’ll try to explain. You see… I care about hiking.

Try this – Grab a notebook & pen & describe exactly what your ideal day would look like, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. Tip: If you’re at a time in your life where it’s difficult to imagine the possibility of an ideal day, describe a day ten years from now. Everything has changed. What happens on that day?

I care about hiking A LOT. I am most present and content when I am climbing up a mountain with my best friend, with DH, or even by myself for the better part of an entire day. What do I actually need to accomplish this? A backpack. Water. Snacks. Sunscreen.

Easy right?

Ok, maybe we need to get a little more granular. I don’t just want to go on a hike, I want to be able to climb as many tall things as possible and for the longest period of time possible. Therefore:

• I need to be fit enough to climb tall parts of the earth now and for years to come.
• I need relationships with other people that also enjoy this activity.
• I need close access to places where this activity can be conducted.
• I need low recurring expenses to be free from the cycle of payments, payments, payments, omg-I-should-be-working-more-to-make-these-payments.
• I need time (entire days or even weeks) to engage in this activity.

I just created an entire framework for my life in five bullet points because I care about hiking.

And so I work out with weights five days a week not because I care about lifting weights but because I care about building muscle to protect my knees and the ability to carry a heavy backpacking pack. I work out not because I care about having really sculpted shoulders but because I care about building the longevity to enjoy hiking for as many years as possible.

I foster relationships with people that care about hiking because sharing an incredible experience is just a little bit better than doing it alone.

I tend to live in highly inconvenient places not because I love driving four hours to get to an airport and not because I hate cities (I don’t), but because I care about hiking.

I refuse to have a car payment ever. I refuse to have a credit card bill I don’t pay the full balance of every month. I live in a little house not only because monthly ongoing expenses are low, but also because it keeps me from filling it with stuff I don’t need that I would feel obligated to maintain/clean/etc. (thanks, I’d rather be outside).

And then there’s time, I need time, which means I am not looking for the next highest paying thing where I’m trading all my time for money so that, what, someday I can retire and go hiking?

All the hours I do spend (hey, rainy days were made for this) analyzing different long-term financial scenarios and all the tracking spreadsheets I keep are not because I am obsessed with money. It’s because I love understanding the mechanics, the knobs and levers, the controllable components of shaping all the pieces of the framework of operating life from a position of strength.

I don’t care about money. I care about hiking.

What would you like your life to look like if you were no longer working (aka ‘retired’)? How much does that actually cost? Why aren’t you doing it now?