Happy second to last Monday of 2023!
It seems like only yesterday I watched the fireworks explode over the water in my satin robe. I stepped into the night and gently untied it, letting it fall to the ground, and embraced the new year with the optimism and nakedness of a child. Unashamed. Hopeful. My arms outstretched like I crawled out of Shawshank.
2023 was my year.
But, looking back, it would be easy to say it wasn’t my year. I didn’t make a million dollars. I’m no closer to being a prominent writer, and Matthew Perry died without ever telling me why he was so sad. If I looked at it that way, I’d give 2023 a six out of ten.
I just finished reading David Goggins’ book “Can’t Hurt Me,” the life story of a man who survived a sadistic and abusive father, went through the Navy SEALs dreaded Hell Week three times, completed Army Ranger training, ran dozens of ultra-marathons with a hole in his heart, and broke the world pull up record on his third attempt.
In it, Goggins speaks at length about the mental toughness he had to develop to overcome the obstacles he faced. He wasn’t particularly kind to himself in the process, as he constantly berated himself for being too fat, too dumb, and too weak to rise to the occasion, but he always found a way to get the job done.
One of his techniques was what he called the cookie jar. Whenever he felt down, like he had nothing left to give, he’d reach into his cookie jar, pull out something he did well in the past, and use it for fuel. He never let the idea of failure creep too far into his mind because he could always keep it at bay with something in his cookie jar.
Believe it or not, I found I had much more in common with David Goggins than I realized. We’re both elite athletes, his arena of expertise being running, mine being the elliptical at Planet Fitness, where I regularly crank the resistance up to ten or more.
We’re both technically Navy SEALs, as he passed BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training), and I love swimming pools.
We both wrote best-selling books.
He broke the world pull-up record, and I called the Guinness representatives to watch me break his record, but I had to stop after five and a half and reimburse them for airfare and wasted time.
But what David and I have most in common is that we need to constantly remind ourselves that we aren’t worthless, and we’re plagued with the notion that we’ll never amount to anything. I know we’re not the only two who struggle with that nagging thought, as our brains tend to be our cruelest friends.
Goggins isn’t the greatest writer; the prose in his book is simple, to the point, and never lends itself to poetic strings of alliteration or flowery similies like a lilting lily languidly longing for her love, the legless Lancelot.
This is why I found the cookie jar to be such a helpful and actionable concept. It was something I could visualize and remember easily. So I decided to reach into the cookie jar and use some of my wins to bring 2023 from a six out of ten to a nine, maybe a nine-point five.
If you’re an avid reader of this newsletter, you’ll know I did this last year, so I won’t rehash the things I did well this year that I can carry into the next. I’m not the kind of guy who recycles his writing or plastic bags. The ocean is a big place; it can handle some bags.
I only wanted to mention the cookie jar because I know many of you struggle with feeling down and fixating on the losses instead of the chocolate chip wins in your life. I won’t wax lyrically about it; I just hope it helps.
That’s all I want out of this newsletter. If this is as big as it gets, that’s okay. I only hope you find something in here that helps. I’ve rambled on for over a hundred issues, so you’re sure to find something. Self-belief? Visualization? God? Buddha? Hunter Biden? Take your pick; I talk about all that stuff.
This will be the last issue of GNM for 2023. I’m giving the staff the rest of the month off as most of them are Estonian immigrants who take Christmas more seriously than we do. Jekaterina, my head of marketing, put a straight razor to my throat when I bumped into the manger scene she set up by her desk. They’re a passionate people.
I wish the best for you and yours this holiday season. Thanks for sticking around these past couple of years, and Hunter Biden willing, we’ll keep going strong together for many more years to come.
Be kind, don’t focus on the losses; plastic bags are good for fish; let it go, travel light, don’t hop trains unless you’re experienced, fall in love with the sound, search for purpose even when it looks bleak, and above all, never play cards with anyone who has the same name as a city.
Until next time.