A Decade of Unbecoming

Ten years ago, if you’d told me that in a decade I’d be living on the edge of a forest with two cats and a pile of plants, taking a music project as seriously as I was my fitness business and bodybuilding back then, I’d have spilled my quad ristretto espresso with a half-ounce of heavy cream all over you.

Ten years ago I left Starbucks to commit—really commit this time—to building a life where my time wasn’t scheduled by someone else. A life where I could travel without having to worry about booking time off or losing income. Where I could wake up without an alarm clock, live where I wanted, and not have a grocery budget.

I had no interest in fame, flash, or fortune.

Just quiet, peaceful freedom.

The fitness business, MASSthetics, came about because I saw my lifting and nutrition knowledge and experience as the only skill I could leverage into income at the time.

Even so, I knew that a fitness business was a stepping stone, not my destination.

I felt like a frog navigating his way across a pond, leaping from lilypad to lilypad.

After two years of fitnessing, copywriting emerged as the next pad in the pond.

I held my breath and leapt.

I started making the kind of money I thought would take a decade to reach.

Then I got stuck.

I gazed at the pond relentlessly, hopefully, waiting for the next pad to appear.

There were never any in sight.

I went through multiple cycles of burning out, taking a break, then finding my way back to copywriting. All the while, my frustration over not seeing the next lilypad grew. Copywriting had been so obvious, I assumed the next step would be too.

The long dark night arrived.

The frustration intensified.

The stuckness persisted.

Then collapse.

Everything except a cat and a cabin emptied out of my life.

Clients. Income. Relationship. Interests.

I chose not to fill the gaping void.

I knew the emptying was needed. 

I knew I needed to sit in the space without rushing to fill it. 

That if I sat in stillness and silence for long enough, the clarity I’d lost and the answers I’d long been searching for would eventually, finally arrive.

What followed was the toughest eighteen months of the past ten years. 

I felt The Wizards of Wordcraft dying, and chose not to fight for its survival.

I went from earning more than I’d dared dream when leaving Starbucks, to less than I was earning from MASSthetics when I chose to hang up my apron.

I watched my partner of seven years pack her bags, and wished her well.

I knelt and let the version of me I’d known for all my life die.

I spent a long time believing that money was the biggest lever for freedom. 

I was wrong. 

Money is a lever, and an important one.

But the past eighteen months, stripped of income, identity, and clarity, have shown me that freedom is a state of mind. Something you cultivate. A practice. A way of life.

Money can assist and amplify freedom, but doesn’t create it.

The Wizards of Wordcraft generated ~250K/year each of the three full years I ran it. ‘Twas easily the most lucrative of any of the projects I’ve tackled since leaving Starbucks all those years ago. And I’ve never felt so trapped as then. Or so miserable.

In contrast, the past eighteen months, where bills were a monthly battle, food was rationed, shows were missed, and life was simple, I’ve never felt so free. Or so happy.

In the absence of life’s most popular distractions—work, business, relationships, experiences, entertainment—I slowly, steadily, carefully, deliberately built an inner world that would allow for the outer world I wanted to live in to become possible.

I recognized that the energy I was putting out into the world wasn’t generating the response that I wanted. I wasn’t happy with who I was or how I was showing up, and what came into my life reflected that truth. That’s how life works.

Your internal architecture dictates what the external world reflects back to you.

This is how you get perpetually stuck in, or finally break free from patterns.

If you want to change your outer reality, change your inner landscape first.

When you can do that…

That’s real freedom. 

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander