The Dime

What I Learned In My Magic Year and What I’m Looking Forward To In My Jesus Year

I keep an inconsistent journal. I have a goal to write daily, but some days I either distract myself enough to forget or, I try too hard/not hard enough and can’t think of anything interesting to write about. Recently, I took a look at my journal to see what I was inspired to write in past entries and came across the one from my birthday last year — the first day of my Magic year. In it I wrote about some of the moments in my life that have led to now — personal philosophies, new and old experiences, places I’ve been, the people I met in those places, and lessons I’ve learned.

Por ejemplo, I wrote about meeting Clinton Adams at veterinarian summer camp when I was twelve. We were at Tuskegee University. Clinton was the fellow camper that jumped in the pool to save me after he saw me get pushed into the deep end and realized I couldn’t swim. Honestly, “couldn’t swim” is being too kind. My survival strategy was, hold my breath, sink to the bottom, jump like Mario toward the surface and in the direction of the shallow end. Rinse and repeat. A similar situation happened to me at a lake in Guntersville, Alabama when I was 18. Lorin, you too are an angel. My takeaways from those experiences? Life comes at you fast — be ready — or hope somebody else is. Also, I should probably learn to swim.

I’m grateful for Clinton, wherever he is in the world, and his willingness to “jump in” because, if not for him, I wouldn’t have had any takeaways from that experience. Like, none at all. I’m still here to tell the story, in part, because of Clinton and, in part, because of a slew of other people (Hey, Mama). I get to keep learning from my mistakes, failures, and experiences because of people like them.

I spent last summer in southern Wyoming as a line cook at a guest ranch, which is where I wrote the journal entry that kicked off my Magic year. There, I saw parts of the country I never knew existed and did things I’d never thought of doing. I wrestled and branded some cattle, added the deer antler to the list of instruments I want to learn to play, ate Rocky Mountain Oysters (which aren’t bad if they’re seasoned and fried — a little Tony’s goes a long way), and rode a horse named Harley (who Jimmy Fallon also rode) in pitch-black darkness through the Medicine-Bow Forest down a trail called “Devil’s Slide”. While in Wyoming, I was fortunate enough to strengthen an old friendship and meet new friends who came to the ranch from all over the world. But of the ranch’s 100+ staff employees that I met, Tom was probably the most interesting.

I met Tom my first day on the ranch last summer. Like me, he was a part of the kitchen staff. He was the baker, so he and I spent quite a bit of time together. Mostly, that consisted of me hanging around the bakery to taste test his baked goods, soups, and prime rib, or we’d shoot the shit on his porch while drinking beer. Tom is 70 years young. He lives in St. Paul, Minnesota. I learned he’s lived in my home state of Alabama, and a host of other places that are too many to recall. He plays the bass in a band that still tours and performs. He prefers riding his motorcycle to driving his Subaru — a Subaru that has amassed over 200,000 miles. Me, Tom, Dave, and Dave (two more members of the kitchen staff) put a few hundred miles on that Subaru on a road trip to Steamboat, Colorado. While in Steamboat we went to Tom’s favorite lodge, dispensary, and Mexican restaurant. We also turned a two-hour return trip into a five-hour ride through some of the most fi(r)e stretches of forest I’ve ever seen. I got to hear countless stories about Tom’s life and toward the end of the summer he shared another of his talents — Tom was also a poet. He wrote one poem, in particular, he autographed and gifted me before we left the ranch in September — it was titled “Collection of Somedays” and it’s mostly responsible for me writing this, right now. Hopefully, this inspiration sustains the effort to write consistently.

Full disclosure, I planned on quoting some lines from the poem but, true to form, I’ve misplaced the physical copy he gifted me somewhere in my apartment. I’ve been playing the, “If I was that poem, where would I be?” game for hours with no luck. So, Tom, if you’re reading this, I’m either going to find it or I’m going to call and ask you to send me another autographed copy. Scouts honor, bubba. But, for now, maybe it’s better this way.

When “Collection of Somedays” begins, Tom is explaining his day — where he is, what he sees, how he feels. He then discusses a series of events in his life and some questions surrounding those events. The meat of the poem, for me, is his exploration of the things in his life he’s yet to do (as if he hasn’t done enough). The homie contemplates his mortality and the vitality he has to accomplish the undone — all the things he would do…someday. He closes the poem with a statement of how he wants his life to end. He draws parallels between him and his motorcycle, describing the desire for his engine to be exhausted at the end of the road. That, to me, says to hell with age and other limitations — go after everything you want until it kills you which, I’m sure, is what the good brother Tom intends to do.

The first time I read the conclusion I was sitting on a picnic table outside the ranch laundromat waiting for the dryer to stop. I was fixated on Tom’s poem and its perspective. It made me think about my own existence, what I want before my engine is exhausted, why I want what I want, and how to go about getting it because, in the words of my friend, JU, Mr. Multi-talented himself, “I don’t want a lot. I want it all.”

What do I want right now? I want to share some of what I learned in my Magic year leading into my Jesus year. And I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t they get Jesus up out the paint that year?“ And the answer is nope. Jesus got RISEN!

So, from midnight, August 15th, the year of our Lord, 2018 to 23:59:59, August 14th, the year of our Lord, 2019, here’s a few of many takeaways:

• Love is cool, even the selfishness of love. When you lose somebody you care about to death or otherwise, at some point in the grieving process you began to think about how it affects you. We think about the things that we loved about them that we don’t get to experience anymore. That selfishness is a testament to real connection.
• You have more power than think. Define what “better life” means for you and go get it. We’re constantly engaging in experiences that are a collection of data which help build our individual fabric. Only you understand what your fabric is made of. Set your sail and navigate the course. If not, you’ll be a passive recipient of what the world has to offer.
• Related: Ask for what you want. If you hear no, good. Find a better way to ask or go look for it elsewhere, but don’t give up on it because someone closed a door. Knock on another one, or build an entrance of your own.
• Related: There will never be a “perfect” time. Don’t wait for your opportunity. Create it. Shoot your shot. You have a feeling about a thing you want to do, so do it. The feeling will likely never go away, it’s just going to transform. Over time the transformation will turn from the excitement of possibility to regret you never pulled up for the J (jumper). An airball is better than a shot clock violation.
• Saying “Yes” to shit works out…sometimes. And shit working sometimes is all you can ask for.
• PYE: Protect Your Energy. Somebody’s always saying something and that something ain’t none of your business. First of all, you don’t have as many haters as you hoped. Secondly, if they’re not saying it to your face, it’s not meant for you. Keep it pushing.
• You don’t have to consume things you don’t enjoy. Nobody made you watch that show or listen to that album or try that food. It was your choice. Don’t use so much of your energy hating on things. (See: PYE)
• Cancel plans and spend that time by yourself. It’s okay. Say that’s why you canceled. Wanting to be with yourself is a good thing and society (i.e. your friends) need to understand that. (See: PYE)
• Random, but relevant: Producers should get paid more. Producers also deserve their own category at the Grammys (especially in Rap/Hip-Hop). They’re responsible for so much of what we enjoy about music. I know in the current landscape artists across most mediums aren’t seeing much of the fruit of their labor, but producers need to see a larger slice of the pie in proportion to their cultural contribution.
• I heard the quote: How you do anything is how you do everything. I think about it often.
• Take your time. Gameplan. Work hard. Live the way you want to. Get wins. Don’t take other people’s advice…too seriously. Currently, there are over 7 billion experiences happening simultaneously on this planet. Most of those people think they’re doing life right. They’re not wrong, but when they impart advice onto you, know that’s what worked for them. You have to cater the messages that resonate with you to yourself.
• Invest in people.

“Why don’t you live for the people? Why don’t you struggle for the people? Why don’t you die for the people?”

-Fred Hampton

This a quote from one of the greatest people and leaders in the history of history. He left a legacy centered around service to his fellow man. Do yourself a favor and spend time learning about Chairman Fred.

People are the best and worst thing about the human experience, but there are few things better than investing time and energy into relationships with other sapiens, which includes investing heaps of time and energy into yourself.

• Listen more. I meet dope folks. I’m also blessed enough to have an amazing family (friends included). I learn a ridiculous amount by shutting my mouth and listening to what they’re willing to share.
• Hug somebody. And don’t half-ass it. Hugging is an exchange of energy. If you engage me in my love language of hug, one of the greatest human traditions and interactions, really HUG me, cause I’m coming in for the real thing, bebe.
• Don’t freak out about getting older, *whispers* it’s high key fire.
• Finally, I’ve learned the secret to women. But I’ll write about that…someday.

Magic year, thanks, you were better than good to me — we put up some great numbers. Jesus year, check in the game and let’s get these buckets.

Keep fighting,

P.