What Have You Learned?

What do you know today that you didn't know 5 years ago?

Last month?

Yesterday?

If the answer is nothing you're not in service to yourself.

Thus,

not in service to others.

Then,

what's the point?

Lessons Learned from Struggling Beautifully

A year and half ago, I stepped off a plane and into a strange land. I made my way down a long corridor en route to the baggage claim as weary speakers rained down announcements from above.

I scanned the room, taking in my equally disheveled seat mates as I wheeled my tattered bag away. The moment I stepped onto the arrival curb a familiar Bay Area breeze washed over me as I stared blankly off into the distance.

There was a fear that belied my poise; the kind that comes when the first half of your life hasn’t gone according to plan and the second feels uncertain.

Just then, a dusty Tacoma truck pulled up. The driver was lanky, a hair taller, and losing his once coarse black hair. It was my brother.

I’d just moved home after 12 years.

The transition back was far from seamless. It felt like watching someone trying to use chopsticks for the first time. Every move to get my footing felt awkward, embarrassing, and little bit impractical.

I also felt like a stranger in my hometown. The faux hawks, overpriced coffee, and trendy storefronts that now lined once forbidden streets put me in a daze.

Where am I? I thought.

Oakland was now uttered in the same breath as the Brooklyn’s, Hollywood’s and San Francisco’s when referencing the graveyard of once affordable cities. This town had changed.

And maybe I had too.

I looked to make myself useful in whatever way I could. I made inquiries to universities and colleges, half expecting them to roll out the red carpet. I thought I’d be a shoe-in to help young actors tell stories. But the replies, if at all, were never invitations.

I took long walks and even longer drives. I thought long and hard about how to find a home for my unique but not particularly marketable skill set.

Just what exactly could someone who’d spent nearly 1/3 of his life pursuing a professional acting career do other than help others do the same?

My humble pie became even more tart when I took on a roommate for the first time in nearly a decade. Correction, my friend now had someone inhabiting his guest room in his already cramped single-family home.

I did my best to stay out of his hair. I’d tiptoe out the front door by 6:45 am and usually tucked myself in bed by 10:00 pm or so. The only solitude I could find was within the small frame of my Honda Accord. That little car suddenly became a mobile tabernacle — a place of peace, quiet, and sometimes even prayer.

I understood that sometimes life requires a little brinksmanship. That you must fall in order to get up, go backwards to move forward, but I wondered at times if I could just pass GO.

Strangely, the lack of housing or steady work was not the hardest part. I knew in the back of my mind those matters would eventually work themselves out. What felt most daunting was trying to figure out who I now was. Without a stage, a story, a monologue, I suddenly grappled with loss of identity.

Losing that also entailed losing my sense of self-worth because it was so embedded in who I perceived myself to be.

This month, I’ve been home for almost a year and a half. Looking back, I’m profoundly grateful for both the struggle and where I find myself standing today.

I also took away some invaluable lessons, not the least of which was the importance of being patient with yourself. Understanding that progress is slow and often uphill is all the blueprint you really get.

But it’s something.

Redefining yourself is also not a sign of defeat but evolution. It means you haven’t gotten lazy on the only kind of progression that surpasses career, salary, and recognition.

Progression of SELF.

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"Is this some type of joke?"

"Is the voltage in Portugal 220?" the elderly man sitting beside me asked. "I have absolutely no idea," I told him. "That's an interesting question." There were several moments during my flight when I wondered if the man knew where he was going, and perhaps more importantly, why. It then dawned on me if the latter was a pre-condition for travel I'd have far less stamps on my passport.

I cleared customs without any real issue, which was a far cry from my voyage through Central America just a few months earlier. I was part of a group casually shaken down for a few bucks on the Costa Rican - Nicaraguan border. It all happened so seamlessly I almost didn't mind.

"Maccarone?" the man sitting opposite the thick glass asked. "Is this some type of joke?" I looked at him quizzically. 

Over the years my last name had drawn its share of bizarre inquiries but never in all my life had I been asked if my surname was an attempt to dupe someone. I kept quiet. I was a guest in Portugal, a moniker I've long wanted to claim. Part of that responsibility entails picking your battles and occasionally biting your tongue, especially when pride is involved. There was no sense in taking on the trivial with a man wielding the little power he had within a designated space of time. "Go ahead," he finally said. 

I arrived at my host's apartment after the cab driver and I spoke about the weather, sports, and traffic before I began to feel devoid of any depth. I gradually redeemed myself by pelting my driver with questions considered the "third rails" of every Thanksgiving holiday: politics, religion, education, and health care. He answered each question honestly and even with pride. 

A few minutes later, a tall, middle-aged, and handsome man named Antonio showed me around the flat I'd call home for the next two days. Just as he was about to head out we somehow stumbled on the subject of Portugal's history, which promptly led to world history, then politics, the environment, self-awareness, masculinity, vulnerability, meaning, immigration, Elon Musk, relationships, mortality, success, taxes, and trade. 

Between the two of us we could have brokered a peace deal and written a bestselling self-help book. We spoke for 45 minutes, which was only 3 minutes less the length of time we'd known each other. 

This is why I do AirBnb, I thought.  

I spent the bulk of my afternoon wandering through this beautiful city, while fighting jet lag and the subtle pangs of hunger if there is such a thing. The narrow cobblestone streets and Gothic, Baroque, and Neo-Classical architecture (among many others) are as harmonious a blend as the words that make up the rhythmic musicality of their language. I'm half convinced I could listen to a Portuguese person read the phonebook. 

Other than buying a bag of hot peppers I mistook for goji berries my adventures have been tame. I can't wait to see what else this often overlooked country has in store for me.  

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Walk Long Enough and Far Enough and You'll Find What You're Looking For

My theory when traveling has always been walk long enough and far enough and you'll eventually stumble on all that you need to see. Or at least have time to.

This morning I set out on foot in search of Marquis of Pombal Square, named after the man credited with rebuilding Lisbon after the devastating earthquake of 1755 that claimed the lives of some 30,000 people. He also managed to find time to expel the Jesuits, which goes to show you nobody is perfect. 

Would you believe I failed to stumble upon my destination without a map or real sense of where I was going? Instead, I waved the white flag and hailed a cab. I was whisked through narrow streets lined with people heading to work before discovering I wasn't particularly close but had at least been on the right path. This by the way offered some solace. The older I get the less I have qualms, if any, about accepting "small victories."

Marquis of Pombal Square sits atop Liberdade Avenue, which is essentially the 5th Avenue of Lisbon. Anyone looking to go "Gangnam Style"in the Portuguese capital will not be disappointed. The street is teeming with name brands like Aramani and Hermes. Even the young professionals I saw heading off to lunch looked as though they'd just stepped out of a fall catalog.

Eventually I boarded a brand new Hop On Hop Off red tour bus, a mode of transportation I'm now as well versed in navigating as my Honda Accord. Similar to my staple blue blazer and scarf the bus has started to somehow define my travels, if not, my very being.

In the 80-minute ride I learned loads about the city on 7 hills. Like most parts of Europe it was at one point a revolving door to visitors who not so politely insisted on hanging their hat in this coastal city. For anyone who has had the great fortune of visiting Lisbon it's easy to see why. 

The Phoenicians, the Moors, and of course, the Romans all bought their "I love Portugal" t-shirts before deciding the place was theirs. Then in 1494, the Spanish and Portuguese empires decided to amicably divide the world between them through the Treaty of Tordesillas. How thoughtful. 

If ever there were greater evidence that men were in charge of something I've yet to find it.

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Musings While Stuck in a Castle

Two summers ago marked the first time I’d ever been stuck in a castle. Well, sort of.

A rain started to fall in Ljubljana around 2:00 pm one afternoon and showed no signs of letting up. Still, no matter how long I waited it would still manage to be far less time than many before had spent behind these thick impenetrable walls.

Ljubljana Castle, or the “crown above the city,” as it’s also known, was built 5 centuries ago. Over time it received its fair share of renovations and makeovers that would have made it a very popular medieval reality show.

When World War I broke out, the castle was used as a penitentiary for political prisoners and criminals. There were prominent Slovenians kept behind these walls as well.

From mid-1915 it also turns out Italians counted for most of the prison’s POWS, many of which were allowed to participate in orchestras, theater groups, and painting studios thanks to Major Karl Knight of Dern.

Let’s call him the Slovenian P. Diddy.

As the years went on the castle grew indecisive, choosing one moment it wanted to be a prison and the next that penitentiaries were so not in style.

I gathered it was run by men by its trademark fear of commitment.

The first prisoners were brought in around 1815. They left, or were kicked out in 1849 when the space was converted into military barracks.

Then in 1868 when the army left it became a prison again until 1895 when an earthquake struck, damaging the building so bad it could no longer house inmates.

Finally, in 1914 they gave it the old college try, once again opening its doors for business.

Looking at the black and white photos of these men dating back to 1916, I couldn’t help but notice how young so many of them look. I wondered what they thought about, how they felt, what they’d done, where they came from, and if they had families.

But mostly, I was curious about who they were.

Here were hundreds of lost souls I would have known nothing about had I not schlepped up a steep hill an hour earlier.

How many other stories will I fail to know in my lifetime despite the most earnest of efforts?

It’s a daunting thought the castle and these men, now long gone, have given me to consider.

Thankfully the rain looked to be letting up and the sun showed signs of breaking through the headstrong clouds.

It’s probably time for me to get out of here, I thought.

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Plus, I’d love to share my free Creativity Day Planner — a simple two -page template on building good daily habits.

Kindness to Self

Hustle. Grind. Putting in the Work. These are some of the words and phrases that have become part of our contemporary narrative. In our quest to gain riches, start flourishing businesses, and inspire the masses we sometimes loose sight on the importance of being kind to ourselves.

During my grad school days I can remember walking to the theater during a chilly February mornings, sometimes at 5:30 am, thumping my chest while mumbling various mantras under my breath. I was usually able to tease out a little more energy, some motivation, however fleeting.
But looking back,  I failed to show myself enough compassion.

Work hard. Chase your dreams. Hold yourself to a high standard.

But remember to treat yourself the way you'd expect others to. You'll end up finding the work much more fulfilling, the journey far more gratifying.