Going on Offense

Exactly a week ago, with the help of my girlfriend, I packed up my Bushwick loft into the back of a 20-foot moving van. Twelve boxes and four iced coffees later, I turned onto the highway and drove upstate along the Hudson. A little over an hour from the city, this cabin will be my home for the indefinite future.

It’s en vogue to leave the city for rural living right now. I get it. While I sit squarely in that camp, my decision to move cut a bit deeper than usual.

This first began as a few scattered notes as to why I’m retreating to the woods.

Retreat. Even as I type that out, I know it’s not quite the right word here. Retreat is part of the equation, sure. But it’s not the primary motive for the move.

Offense is more like it. A personal doubling down, of sorts, on a core set of interests. ‘Everyone contains multitudes’ is a common refrain, and one that I have a particular affinity for. At any given time, one of your multitudes will appear as a dominant trait, the others recessive.

Back in college, my dominant multitude was a highly social one. While I deeply enjoyed writing, I was admittedly lost with regards to direction post-graduation. But at the time, that didn’t matter. I was 18.

So I did what other 18-year-olds around me did.

I threw parties. I stayed out late. I tried out every social scene that Brown’s campus offered. And quite frankly, it was a hell of a good time. But then I graduated and began to flex new interests and new multitudes.

Well over two years ago, I moved to San Francisco.

You could say the startup bug took hold of my psyche almost instantly. Now here’s what I didn’t realize: that bug’s effect didn't even come close to fully expressing itself until quarantine began.

I lived upstate for most of quarantine, hopping between a few different cabins with my girlfriend and friends. The quiet and solitude that accompanied remote work pushed me to embrace a more entrepreneurial lifestyle to the extreme.

However, it went beyond just a resurgent interest in tech and investing.

It gave me a brief taste of what real focus felt like.

And, in turn, quarantine offered a glimpse into the benefits of that focus and work ethic. Quite honestly, it showed me how good life can be.

But then I moved back to NYC in August.

The weather was hot and the city was bursting with life. It felt incredible.

But I wasn’t as happy as I had been for the past six months. I wasn’t unhappy, per se, but I came to realize that I felt more like myself in a cabin in the woods.

Over the course of August, I got caught up hanging out with friends, staying out late, and working less. I was going through the motions.

And look, this isn’t inherently bad on the surface. For a lot of people, this lifestyle brings genuine fulfillment. It did for me back in college, but not anymore.

Now, I want my focus back.

Not sirens keeping me up until dawn. Not a packed to the brim L train.

I crave calm, slow mornings. Waking up to a light breeze and a sunrise. Afternoon hikes and evening fishing. More than anything, I’m chasing clarity.

And who knows, I may never find it here. But my gut tells me I’m on the right track. That’s all that any of us can hope for.