by Nathan Coumbe

3 meaningful moments

One of my coaches taught me a new exercise this week, and I felt I should share it far and wide.

It’s called the “3 meaningful moments” exercise.

The gist is to think back on 3 different moments from major periods in your life—childhood, adolescence, and adulthood—then write about them in detail.

Once you have this done, you are to distill your experiences into a single word that ties the threads together.

I’ve included my response to this exercise below

***

I was 9 years old, enrolled at an arts school in my city, and required to read a certain number of books each term to get Advanced Reader points. On a whim, I picked up a book that had a picture of a soldier on it— a “Dear America” book entitled The Journal of Scott Pendleton Collins, A World War 2 Soldier.

The opening scene described in graphic detail the D-Day landings at Normandy, France in 1944. From that moment forward, I was hooked on history.

I begged my mom (and she acquiesced) to take me to the library, which became almost a weekly occurrence, and read as many books (many of them well beyond what a 9 year old should have been reading) on that topic.

My interest soon spread out to encompass all of WWII and then history in general. Eventually, my bookshelf at home was FULL of books on just about every topic imaginable, and my library has only grown since then.

When I was 14, my parents bought for me a bass guitar. I’d been studying violin and piano from the age of 7, so I was not without musical skill. But I proceeded to teach myself how to play the bass.

Then I picked up my mom’s acoustic guitar, and taught myself that too. My brother got a set of drums, and I picked up the sticks and taught myself that as well.

That became my focus—I was decent at everything else, but I focused on drums for the next 10 years, taking lessons and eventually getting a bachelor’s degree in jazz studies with an emphasis in percussion.

Giving me that first instrument led me on a journey through every type of music imaginable, and taught me extremely valuable skills such as deliberate practice, diligence, patience, listening, empathy, and more.

At 27, I’d been working for Apple for about a year, when I was offered the chance to become a Creative. In that role, I served as a teacher, workshop facilitator, troubleshooting expert for customers, and a coach of sorts for employees on how to use all our technology.

This was the first time I’d been working when I felt that feeling of flow. Teaching came more naturally to me than just about anything else. Being in front of a group of people, helping them learn and master new skills—this felt more natural than just about anything else I’d ever done before.

And I was GOOD at it.

I had regular customers who’d wait and wait for my classes just so they could work with me. And I learned so many skills: how to sell, how to speak in public, how to present, adapt teaching styles on the fly. And I loved what I did.

Not only was I good at it, but it gave me the chance to learn so many new skills—drawing, computer coding and programming, music production, photography, videography, and all-around creativity. The only reason I left that job was because I wasn’t making enough money to support my family while doing it.

I’m trying to think of a word that ties all of these threads together. “Learning” is the first one that comes to mind. But then “curiosity” came to me. And that feels right at the moment. I truly think curiosity has defined my life and been the underlying reason for both my insatiable desire to learn new things, but also my ability to become proficient at so many disparate things as well.

***

If you have the time and desire, I’d love to hear about your “3 meaningful moments” in the comments below.

by Nathan Coumbe

Making a GOOD living

Most of us read that phrase and think it means “earning a lot of money so we can buy nice things, go to fun places, and have a life of ease.”

But what if we took it literally?

Maybe it means making good things to make others’ lives better. Or perhaps making “good” (the concept) part of your life and modeling that to others. 

Maybe it just means making the world a good place. After all, we do live here.

Work is how we express our gifts, our skills, our selves. It’s how we contribute to society. Hopefully doing well at our work will let us be compensated well (while also allowing us to both enjoy our time here and be generous blessings to others). 

But I don’t really think money has much to do with good living. At least not after a certain point.

That’s my definition. What does “making a good living” mean to you?

by Nathan Coumbe

Love ends because life ends

The Stoics have a practice known as memento mori. It translates (loosely) to “remember you will die.”

I’ve thought of death just about every day that I can remember since I began to understand it as the ultimate destination of life. 

But it became more real to me when I fell in love and got married. Because I realized a bittersweet truth: 

I signed up for devastating grief. 

My marriage was, eventually, going to end in death, either my own or my wife’s.***

And that’s a sobering thought. But it also serves as a constant reminder of just how wonderful love is. You can’t have one without the other. 

All love, eventually, ends in sadness. 

Teenagers break up. Adults get married, then someone dies… Or leaves. Family members lose each other slowly… Or sometimes all at once.

Ultimately, love ends because life ends. 

But maybe that’s why it’s such a powerful element. Because we willingly dive headfirst into it knowing that it will end in the most painful way possible. One way or another. 

I never really voiced this thought out loud until I came across this quote from Nick Cave:

“It seems to me, that if we love, we grieve. That’s the deal. That’s the pact. Grief and love are forever intertwined. Grief is the terrible reminder of the depths of our love and, like love, grief is non-negotiable.”

And it’s totally worth it.

***For those of you who say, “But your marriage could also end in divorce!”, you clearly don’t know Theresa or me. 🤣

by Nathan Coumbe

Everything is a tool

When I was in marketing, I defined myself as a marketer. But I hated that title because of what people expected of me (sleaziness). And because of the jobs that were available—they contrasted with the type of marketing I wanted to do. 

When I was a musician, I defined myself as much. And I burned out. I got tired of the expectations placed on me because of how other people viewed the music world and careers within it.

As I’ve put some space between me and these fields, I’ve had a revelation.

They are just tools.

Marketing is a tool to make change happen. Music is a tool to create emotion in, and connection with, others. 

My fellows in both fields didn’t see it that way. Marketers told me that social media and spamming were the only ways to make things happen in business. 

Musicians told me, “you must focus only on percussion. If you try to play other instruments, you’ll be mediocre at best. No piano, guitar, or voice lessons for you.”

And I believed them. And missed out on some wonderful experiences in the process. And I eventually quit both.

The lesson here is to adopt the “tool” approach, so you see things for what they are. That way, they don’t become your identity. 

I know now that I focused on percussion in college because that area of music was a tool for me to use in that moment of life. To express what was inside of me at the time. It wasn’t who I was. 

And marketing is just a tool, like a hammer. You don’t have to “become” a marketer. You can simply use it as a means to make a change you want to see in the world. 

Separate yourself from the tools you use. 

by Nathan Coumbe

Every day is New Year’s

Today starts a new year for me.

A new year of Precision Nutrition coaching, that is. 

I’ve done it three times now, and each time I’ve had a different (yet fantastic) experience.

But as I was completing my lesson for today, I realized that it isn’t a New Year in the normal sense. It’s the middle of 2023. 

The thought hit me: you can have that New Year feeling any day you decide to commit to something or make a new decision about how you want your life to look.

But there’s an added benefit to starting something new in the middle of the year: it doesn’t feel new.

It doesn’t feel like a New Year’s resolution—that feeling of anticipation mingled with dread. Because you know those resolutions only work for 3% of the people who set them. 

Instead, starting something BIG in the middle of the year (or on a random Wednesday in April) feels like… just another day. 

That overwhelming feeling of, “I don’t know if I can do this,” shrinks a bit. Or goes away entirely. 

Because it’s not a New Year. It’s just a different day, and you’ve decided to try something new. 

How can you make a new year for yourself starting today?

by Nathan Coumbe

Freedom from consequences

Trevor Noah recently said something I feel very strongly about. I’m paraphrasing a bit:

“People who are pro-free speech [at all costs]…are only really pro-free speech about their speech that might offend other people.”

Or, I might add, that may be despicably untrue…then an algorithm picks it up and spreads it to gullible or ill-informed victims…

But here’s the thing: freedom of speech protects you against government intervention.

It doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole (or evil) without consequences.

It also doesn’t protect you from businesses, corporations, or individuals limiting what you say.

You can’t say “bomb” in an airport without being tackled by TSA agents.

You can’t tell a restaurant owner to “eat shit and die”—then expect to be allowed back in to eat.

You also can’t say terrible things to a person and force them to stick around and listen… At least not in the real world (but apparently we expect others to do just that online).

That’s not free speech.

Somehow we’ve conflated (incorrectly) the idea of “I can say whatever I want no matter what,” with part of the First Amendment of the US Constitution.

But:

Everything you say or do has consequences.

They might be good OR bad, but consequences of some sort will ensue regardless. That’s a natural law of the universe. And it’s immature to say or do something awful, then get upset when it has negative consequences for you.

This argument we’re having about what’s “allowed” to be said on the internet—it isn’t an argument about free speech.

Rather, it’s a conversation about actions and their consequences.

Our desire to avoid taking responsibility for those actions…and who determines what those consequences are.

You can do whatever you want…

You just can’t control the outcome of whatever you do.

“When you pick up one end of the stick, you pick up the other.”

—Stephen R. Covey
by Nathan Coumbe

Important things don’t scream

“The things which are most important don’t always scream the loudest.”

—Bob Hawke

In fact, they often whisper. 

Like the child who quietly asks for your attention while wringing her hands: “Hey, Mom?”

Or that stabbing twinge in your chest that’s been paining you more often.

The screaming in our everyday lives often distracts us from what we should really be paying attention to.

by Nathan Coumbe

Good for the hive

There’s a Chinese proverb folks seem to have forgotten:

“What is good for the hive is good for the bee.”

Yet a lot of Americans today seem to be focused on the the bees…

“What’s best for me? I don’t care how it affects anyone else.”

“How can I maximize my short-term pleasure?” (Implied in this is, “And increase my long-term pain?”)

“This new policy is good for me, so what else matters?”

If the bees acted that way, the hive would die. And we’d have no honey. 

But we’d also have no crops. People would starve. We’d lose access to essential medications—even fibers for clothing.

Maximizing individual short-term interests rarely leads to anything good for most people.

It’s because we live in a world of systems. And systems are greater than the sum of their individual parts. They also have 2nd-, 3rd-, and even 4th-order effects. 

Ask yourself, the next time you’re voting, writing a new policy, or drafting a law:

“Is this good for the hive?”

by Nathan Coumbe

The only thing we have in common

There is exactly ONE THING that all human beings have in common with each other:

We are all completely different.

We all see things differently. We’ve all had different experiences, good and bad. We were born physically different. We were raised in different cultures.

And we’d be fools to believe this didn’t affect the decisions we make and the things we want. 

Once we understand that, we can begin to work with each other to actually make things better.

by Nathan Coumbe

Childhood inclinations

Don’t get in the way of your children’s natural inclinations.

If they want to write, encourage it. If they want to dance or sing, help them do it. If they want to play sports, give them the means to do so.

We all seem to be wired for different things. Trying to become something we’re not is the worst possible way to live.