Thanks for appreciating some absurdist writing from The Nomad Theory and A.C.E. the Theorist. 

Stay wild folks! 

~~~~~~

“These ones are always bigger at the start of the week until I can’t take it anymore.”

“The temptation gets to you, huh? I think it does everybody.” 

“Even beyond aesthetic, I don’t know anything more satisfying,”

“It’s hypnotic,”

“Yeah forget a watch, find a mirror,”’

“Do natives get them? Like uncontacted tribes and that?”

“I don’t know, wherever they sell Coke products I guess.”

“Mine were from stress in high school, when it all started.”

“Puberty is a thing,”

“I used to break down crying,”

“Used to?”

“Used to.”

“You gonna get that one?”

“Which?”

“That big white one on your left forehead,”

“It’s not ready yet,”

“Like hell, lemme do it.”

“No way.”

“Come on,”

“What’s it gonna do for you?” 

“Hmm, fulfill my deepest desire as a sentient being…”

“There’s nothing else you’d rather do?”

“Nothing.”

“Go on then…

~ 15 seconds later ~

“Was it worth it?” 

“Yeah but you’ve got another one. Lemme get that too…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Resulting Cycle is Inevitable

From the flesh it drops, exasperated having suffocated under the pressure of its purpose, having given everything it had.

Oxygen consumes and somehow the hydration that once liquified its core is sucked into the surrounding saw dust. 

Any remaining nutrients are blended with more plant based carbon, and a musky sponge-like substance accumulates beneath the wooden boards. The encapsulation providing haven for interesting fungi. 

No longer we can wait. Somebody’s gotta do it. A shovel. A bucket. And a place to put it. 

We decide on the banana patch. Last year we did the same thing, 300 pounds of yesterday’s bananas. The shovel comes in handy. 

We spread the human butter out like peanut butter. It smells of rejuvenation and heat. 

Two years will pass and the bananas will be ready to pick. A yellow phoenix bursting from the dirt. What was inside me, will be inside me once again. 

At breakfast, we’ll sit, drink coffee, maybe smoke a cigarette; the resulting cycle is inevitable. 

While yesterday’s will surely fall to dust, today’s banana finds its place...

inside my bowels. 

~~~~~~

Hell is… 

Hell is living in a concrete box being fed Monsanto corn with fertilizer sprayed on it for every meal with your nose stuck up a fat old gringo’s butt.  

Hell is hearing an illiterate coal miner cheering as Donald Trump imitates a handicapped person struggling to ask where the nearest restroom is.

Hell is eating human hair from a cotton candy stick by accident. Which really isn’t so bad, considering it was freshly shampooed hair. At least it smelled like rose hips. 

Rose hips still smell in hell, because the olfactory structures still exists in Hell. In fact, so do taste buds, nerve endings, ear canals, and eyeballs. 

What organ we lose in Hell, however, makes this having of senses a sorry scam. Not having one is worse than buying a rotten avocado, or walking in on an overflowing toilet. 

Hell… is a heartless place. And without the heart, none of the other bloody organs work. 

A.C.E. Ridenour 

Correctly, the territory (as it is legally declared) recorded over 4,000 deaths and a growing $50 Billion in damages since Hurricane Maria. But as far as the citizens are concerned, they’ve recovered, and are already moving towards a more sustainable future. 

I spent twenty days on the island in August of this year, and sought a true picture of their status by interviewing local people affected by the record breaking storm. A part of my stay was passed as a volunteer on a permaculture farm called The Las Marias Project located on the western side of Puerto Rico.

In 2015, Clint Poplar moved from his hometown in Minnesota and started developing the 25 acre parcel of land with his girlfriend Andrea Durano, a Puerto Rico native. Together, they hope to establish themselves as an example of self-sustainable agricultural design for other projects in the area and provide educational programs promoting permaculture.

They work intentionally with local school districts and other co-operative farm projects to align their shared visions for the future of Puerto Rico; A land where unexpected hurricanes won’t cripple their social structure for half the year. 

The house sits upon a mountain top, overlooking acres of banana trees sprawling up and down tropical valleys that eventually meet an ever-glistening Caribbean Sea. A volunteer’s work on the property ranges from planting papaya seedlings to nurturing the field of fruiting trees. My favorite part however, was feeding the adult boar, Piggie Smalls, who flattens the parcel’s tall grasses to make room for future crops - all by going about his daily business creating mud. 

Clint and Andrea balance their day-jobs by directing smaller projects on the property such as a earthbag structure, built using recycled nylon bags filled with dirt and clay, that will eventually serve as a garage for their restored off-road Jeep.  

When the sun goes down, and the croaking frogs start their symphony, it feels good knowing work done at The Las Marias Project contributes to a more sustainable Puerto Rico.

~~~~~~

August 22, 2018

Las Marías, Puerto Rico

“It’s probably going to rain”

“You’re right”

“We could just stay here and read books”

“Yeah, but I just drank a cup of coffee… see ya soon”

I took off, machete swinging’, greenish shorts ablazin’.

The hill was steep and packed tight with grayish-red clay in spots, but blasted by banana leaves everywhere else.

Chop, chop, slice, clang *rock, chop, slice.

My machete minced overbearing vines and sideways sugar stalk into a fine salad, revealing massive mossy logs, previously chewed by el dueño and his chainsaw.

Glistening drips of sweat made it nearly (nearly) unsafe to be swinging a recently sharpened blade, and I decided a tropical plunge was in order.

Sliding past the last, sometimes pricklin’, thousand meters, I met flatness. A plane, with 15 feet of rushing rapids splitting the scene.

Perfect, I thought, what a treat from wherever.

The machete found its place, sticking from a wall of clay, and the rest of my sticky clothing hanging with it.

Dip, slip, dunk… I was under water. Upon breaking surface, some seriously striking thunder soaked my cerebral - it was loud - as if part of a grander subjective clock.

And with it, thousands of gallons of water.

“Hoooo, cooo, cooo, cooooo, coooooo!” My heart howled without intention, sending a reverberation off the bambooed walls.

Tooka Tooka Tooka, the rain didn’t stop.

I sat beneath the tree, “thinking’ bout stuff”: Where I got my opinions. Whos’ my heroes? Why am I cool right now? And not tomorrow?

Then I got bored. And cold. Naked, shivering, in the jungle.

Better question: Why am I always naked?

~These were Q’s for later, best get home, buddy~

Hopping in the pants, plucking up my knife, I started sprinting. Up the hill, dodging bolts, squatting for my life, like they taught us in Cub Scouts.

Squat. Sprint. Squat. Sprint.

Lightning bolt, who needs a coat.

Soaking wet, with mud and sweat,

that’s what I get… for drinking coffee after 3

People “hang out” less than they used to. I remember when my family first moved into the neighborhood 12 years ago. Within the first week of our relocation, a kid from down the street came knocking on my door with an offer. He wanted to “hang out.” 

So, with sweaty palms and shaky knees, I followed him – albeit, mostly because the boy had said, “my mom just made chocolate chip cookies.” 

Even today, social interaction gives me the same sweaty palms and shaky knees it did the week we moved. Only instead of seeking chocolate chip cookies to “hang out”, I now rely on the promise of alcohol or free food to transcend that sweaty resistance and go out on Friday nights. 

“I have Netflix and GrubHub … where’s the necessity to make new friends that I had 12 years ago?”

At the boy’s house, we ate his mother’s cookies. And before long, a gaggle of other neighborhood kids showed up, all older and more familiar with this “hang out” process. They enjoyed a treat and talked, but under the oldest boy’s direction, we quickly got to the core of why we were there: Flag Football. I had played football at recess, but on such occasions, our teams were formed of same-aged competitors. So, the idea of playing with the “big boys” wigged me out, and I grew increasingly anxious, despite their congenial attitudes. 

“Seeehhhhhttt…. Blue 42... hike!” 

My hands were still sweaty, but on the first play, I was dodging tackles and snagging passes. There was nothing to fear except grass stained shorts, yet it took years (years!) of playing football with the same boys for that anxiety to eventually wear off. 

I have many theories why this uneasiness still occurs, but the most promising lead stems from a lack in social necessity. 

⥨⥩

An example. If I stumble upon a mechanical issue with my lawnmower, I no longer have to ask my handyman neighbor for help. Instead, I flip open YouTube and search for an on-the-spot answer. Never during the process did I have to leave my couch or talk to another human being. The necessity to be social has almost disappeared. Of course, it is a personal choice to use YouTube, but when the less social option exists, I will normally at least try and solve the problem myself using the internet before asking someone else. 

Which brings me to a crucial question: With increasingly realistic forms of artificial stimulation, do kids still play self-organized football after school? 

The BBC reports that between required school work, and after-school leisure, kids spend between 5-8 hours in front of a screen per day. The shocking stats are the result of a young brain searching for a way to spend its time in the least resistive manner. 

In fairness, the culprits - such as Snapchat, Instagram, and Fortnite - each contribute to anxiety in their own complex manner. But at the end of the day, what’s gone missing overall is the social necessity.

Today, kids can get the same satisfaction of a “stimulating” afternoon without ever looking another human in the eyes - without ever facing the resistance - which leaves in-person “hang-outs” to days when a parent (uncomfortably) forces their child to interact socially. 

Why suffer through those sweaty palms and shaky knees, when an X-BOX provides a similarly satisfying, albeit artificial, stimulation? 

⥨⥩

Fortunately, the growing gap in social interaction can be filled by something as easy as and going for a stick-tossing walk in the woods with the neighbor kids. 

What I am worried about is a future when the kids, who are now on their phones for 8 hours a day, have kids. If I needed chocolate chip cookies to play flag-football with a neighbor, what will my kids need to leave their bedrooms? 

That line fills my chest with butterflies, nervous fluttery ones. What on Earth could those butterflies possibly want with my sentiments?

Starting February 2nd 2017, I made a solemn vow to myself that I would write everyday.

There were very few guidelines other than, of course, that I had to write everyday. Some days this habit produced little more than a tricky word in Spanish, or what I had for breakfast. But on special planetary rotations, when even there was plenty else to do, a swooning literary goddess would surf into my consciousness upon a wave of Cabernet Sauvignon and dark chocolate. With her, trailed a thousand tiny grammar fairies disguised as vocabulary words and punctuation marks.

The fairies kissed my neck and the goddess massaged my feet. We had a grand old time, scribbling stories together atop a melting glacier, or scrawling desperate prayers to God while sleeping alone at the bottom of a deserted riverbed.

Writing became my best friend, from an odd social standpoint, or at least I could call a most consistent receiver of expression.

I would write what I had for breakfast, often, and then go from there. Most days I would write down recaps, business ideas, recipes, contact info, directions, poems, interview notes, article notes, quotes, and sayings. But on those special days, I would sit down at a desk and write a hyperbolized or intensified version of something that actually happened to me while traveling. In whatever college-ruled notebook graced my backpack that month, these stories would span 8-12 pages and take me well over 5 hours.

One entry above all others caught my attention as a catalyst. It was in a hostel in Bariloche Argentina enjoying a little pit stop after living and working as an unpaid volunteer in El Bolsón for the two months previous.

The night before I crossed into Chile to begin a new job as a carpenter at the Chili Kiwi hostel in Pucón, I went on a bike ride with one of the wildest travelers I’ve, to this day, ever met. The morning after our bike ride, I began writing a hyperbolized story about what happened and didn’t stop for about 8 hours.

Finally, just as the hotel's owner walked in with a 5 litre jug of port wine, I finished it. We drank the port and floated on down the street to where a vagabonding angel named Oliver “showed me the ropes” and provided an example of what it meant to be completely and totally beyond yourself. It was as if he showed me how to crack the concrete mold that had been encapsulating my personality, and I could finally “be myself” as the say.

Although seemingly melodramatic, the writing of that story followed by concrete smashing ceremony of port was the match that ignited a potentially perpetual fire inside my hear.

That is, only if I keep on writing, right?

Within a day of returning home from my 2017 GapQuest, on December 22nd, I began writing my first book. It is a 537 page absurdly altered account of what happened in South America that year, and I didn’t stop (except for one month - August - when I stopped to work on TNT Podcast) until December 22nd 2018, exactly one year after I began writing the thing.

All names were changed in this book and some stories never happened whatsoever, but it could certainly not be called pure fiction.

In fact, I have no idea where you would put it in a library. Perhaps that is becuse it does not belong in a library. Honestly, who tf knows?

I sure don’t, so it’s sitting on an external hard drive in a place that is probably too obvious, but still not yet totally obvious.

And this is where it will remain until I figure out what the hell to do with it.

That year, 2018, I wrote everyday. Then, for 2019 my intentions were to print all 537 pages of the first book and edit it by hand for 4-5 months living off the grid in the Peruvian Amazon. Which I attempted, but upon reading the first page, decided that the original version was a dry run, so I began writing an entirely new book.

The second book, I can say with honor, is all fiction so far. And it has been a much better time.

Will this second book be The One? For a while I thought it could be, and it still could, but I’ve told myself it could be another dry run, just to entertain the thought and reinforce my commitment to the writer’s life. Besides, it’s not even done. I’d say I’m about halfway, and I don’t personally know exactly what’s going to happen in the story.

Even then, intertwined character flashbacks and extracted concurrent scenes take the story in directions I never could have predicted everyday.

There she goes again, it’s the swooning literary goddess, swooning her swoon all over my notebook pages.

In all relationships there will be times of separation. Sometimes it’s forced and unpleasant, other times we’re just so fucking tired of each other that we just need to leave the countray and be thumbin’ bums for 11 months.

So for the last week (tomorrow will be 7 days) I took a break from writing to work on this podcast and read books.

It has been a breath of non-polluted air. (not to say writing air tastes like toxic smog). I have been able to read and ride my bike after work instead of writing EVERYDAY.

It has been a healthy break, and i may continue until the feeling and desire are there and some universal guiding manifestation of Love communicates that it is time to write again.

So I say YES, we writers are allowed to take a break… for a little while.

Although our food in question has lived through a spectrum of admittedly awesome nicknames, (such as, but not limited to; Goobers, Earth Nuts, Pindars, Ground nuts, Earth peas, Goober peas, and Ground beans) today we know them most commonly as Peanuts.    

This final decision is still notably deceiving, seeing as peanuts are not technically nuts, but legumes. 

 Instead of growing on trees like most nuts, peanuts sprout from a green leafy plant displaying a large yellow flower. Then, they launch below the ground to fruit, making them unique to the legume family, and positively foreign to the nut category. 

An average child in the United States eats approximately 1,500 Peanut Butter sandwiches before graduating high school, and by our country’s average, it might be reckoned that at least 80% of homes in the United States contain at least one jar of the creamy nut spread. 

Obviously, consuming peanuts in the form of store bought butter will change these facts, but for better or worse, here are some nutritional points for the peanut itself. 

Protein Power

By percentage, peanuts are about 25% protein, making them one of the highest sources of plant-based protein for vegetarians and omnivores alike. Munch a few handfuls with breakfast and stay charged until lunch. 

Varied Vitamins

Manganese, Magnesium, Folates, and Niacin. Believe it or not, these harshly named vitamins and minerals are integral parts of the organ systems that keep us breathing. Specifically, systems sourced at the heart. Each of the above mentioned elements help balance heart health, so by eating peanuts you are really just following your heart. 

Biotin Boost  

Peanuts are one of the highest sources of edible Biotin, which is an important vitamin to consume during pregnancy. It can also help prevent hair loss and promotes healthy nail growth. 

Allergy Awareness

Peanuts are one of the most common food allergens and affect nearly 1% of all North Americans. A reaction to these allergens at any age can be deadly, but especially in children. This makes for tricky elementary school lunchtimes. Thankfully, school supervisors often separate affected children during eating periods to avoid incidents.  

Not wild about hydrogenated oils or other emulsifiers that usually come in store-bought Peanut Butter? Making homemade peanut butter without the trash isn’t as mystical as it seems. Read my Theory about Jungle Butter: Hommade Nut Butters and the Key to Perpetual Health. 

Jungle Butter: Homemade Nut Butters and the Key to Perpetual Health 

Legumes and Economic Disparity 

At any outdoor market or street corner in Perú, weary travelers can usually find shelled peanuts for about $3 a Kilogram, making the peculiar legumes an affordable option for basic survival and quick protein on the go. 

The issue for travelers from the United States, unfortunately, is that these peanuts are not in the form of butter. 

According to the Texas Peanut Board (this actually exists), we consume 700 million pounds of Peanut Butter a year in the United States, which is enough to slather a satisfyingly thick layer across the entire floor of the Grand Canyon.

The Creamy Question

Needless to say, while living in Puerto Maldonado, Perú, I found this lack of butter, to say the least, utterly disturbing. I was surrounded by some of the cheapest, freshest peanuts in the entire world, but not a single vendor sold the creamy stuff -- let alone the crunchy. 

When an infrequent grocery store does happen to carry some Peanut Butter in stock, it’s often absurdly priced; at about $5 for a small jar. Now, I agree this does not sound convincingly bank-breaking, but when the price of a Peruvian bed and breakfast is around $4 a night, the classic legume spread becomes a precious commodity. 

In short, one sunny Sunday morning after waking in the Jungle from a vivid dream about Peanut Butter, I looked at the idle bag of whole roasted peanuts sitting on my bedside table and asked myself: 

What is Peanut Butter, really, but a bunch of smashed up peanuts?

As it turns out, traditional Peanut Butter production in the United States is quite extraordinary relative to its finished appearance...

Traditional Process

By the time it reaches that red and green jar labeled “Jif,” the original peanuts have undergone a hugely industrial process. Seeing as Peanut Butter has become known as an “All-American Food,” these steps could be considered the Traditional Process.

Starting from seed in early spring, the plants, including their fruit, are finally harvested in October after months of tending. Then, from their farms  the legumes are sent to moisture-controlled shelling factories where they are carefully cracked and screened for contaminants. 

Next, they are shipped to a roasting plant where enormous revolving ovens set to 800 ℉  dry roast the goobers until evenly prepared to cool. Up until this point, the skins are still present, so a blanching process is then executed by dumping the funny little foods into massive boiling water baths.  

Furthering this factory affair, the peanuts are then run through two phases of grinders and mixed with several other ingredients such as salt, sugar, and oil emulsifiers before it is finally pumped into plastic jars and ready for your fried Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich. 

Thus, we needed an alternative… and Jungle Butter was Born! 

Does happiness really have to be so complicated? For several hours after asking this new question, I shelled, smashed, and ground the remainder of my lackluster, regular peanuts by hand until the physical state of the legumes transformed into a squishy brown paste. 

Now at this point, wielding full control of the additives, I was able to experiment with different flavors until finally winnowing down the list to this recipe: called Jungle Butter. Which is an appropriate name considering the location of its conceptual origination -- the Peruvian Amazon. 

I have modified the recipe slightly to make it more “first-world” by including the option of  using a food processor, as opposed to the “molino” hand -grinder limitations present while in Peru…

Please make this Jungle Butter recipe and eat it everyday. 

HOW TO MAKE JUNGLE BUTTER

You will need: 

1 Pound Roasted and Skinned Peanuts 

2 Tbsp Oil (peanut or avocado work best in my experience) 

Dash of salt

1 tsp Cinnamon 

1 Tbsp Honey

Step 1: Place all ingredients in a food processor and blend. 

Step 2: Add more oil if smoother consistency desired. 

Step 3: Taste and continue adding flavors until your butter reaches optimal taste. 

So to answer the original question: Yes, peanut butter is basically a bunch of smashed up peanuts. 

“We need to move through space in mindful ways, for a regenerative future, we need to get this going.” - Elisa Beck

I often get impassioned at parties, late night, and end up sharing my Theories with unassuming party guests. Sometimes this pisses people off. But Elisa Beck showed me that even if they won’t budge in the moment, a seed was planted.

Because we don’t have time to be losing these crops. The fracking companies are putting a fucking frack pad 2 miles away from Elisa’s house  in Monroeville and it will likely destroy the smaller water sources in that area, and surely pollute the larger ones.

Elisa Beck is an Neurodevelopmental optometrist with an eye for what’s inside. Her current ambitions in the realms of protecting  public water sources from further pollution ask her to be at top energy levels on a daily basis.

To do this, she eats an extraordinarily healthy diet, meditates amongst trees regularly, and does EmbodYoga when feeling active

One meditation she finds particularly powerful is looking inside yourself to ask the question “what is it that I’m doing to create this?” instead of externalizing and blaming “this politician or that politician.”

Listen in to the episode for more stories about Elisa’s early activism, environmental entrepreneurship, and her future book.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY,

Stay wild folks

A.C.E. the Theorist

2:00   Elisa’s cousin originally got her interested in nature by explaining that different rocks came from different places, and by running through the woods with her Basset Hound, Maxwell.

3:15 Elisa describes her refined process of looking internally to ask the question “what is it that I’m doing to create this?” instead of externalizing and blaming “this politician or that politician.”

We are all participating

6:00 Elisa follows Deepak Chopra. Deepak used to do guided meditation courses with Oprah.

7:45  Elisa was going door to door collecting signatures for the Kidney Foundation in the 9th Grade. She used to   

9:05 “We need to move through space in mindful ways, for a regenerative future, we need to get this going.”

9:30 Elisa gives examples of how we can approach apartment complex owners to ask if they would potentially put solar panels on their roofs.

12:15 I often get impassioned at parties, late night. Sometimes I piss people off. Elisa shows me why what I did at this party was a good thing, because I planted a seed.

17:30 “It’s not them, it’s all of us, we are the collective. How do we come back to ourselves to know we are all hippy, we are all executive, we are all Trump.”

20:00 Elisa talks about how she became an MSG detector at restaurants after becoming closer to vegan for the first time 8 years ago. I experienced a similar sensitivity during the one month I went 100% vegan.

25:00 I talk about a dream I had where Burger King adopted the fake meat that Richard Branson is investing heavily in, it is grown in a lab and has exactly the same DNA as real beef.

32:30 Brandon Denison and the Coal Field Development initiative have brough 1000’s of people out of the coal industry by using other entrepreneurial ventures. Was it easier for him because he is farther away from the city?

35:00 Announcement of Elisa’s future book.  Enlivening Consciousness Spirituality, Wellness, and Veganism from a Neurodevelopmental Optometrists View (a working title) The book is based on her Master’s thesis and she is in the editing process now.

A GapQuest is a period of time when your priorities are intentionally focused on an interesting mission. 

For example: Learn Spanish while volunteering in a Spanish speaking country for 6 months. 

It is 100% possible to do this with a proper preparation and intention. 

A plane ticket to Colombia costs $129 from Spirit Airlines (if you buy it early enough). After you arrive, there are ways to ball out for 6 months, half a year, and have exotic adventures while spending less than $2000. 

Compare that to a $25,000 semester of college. (Sorry, that’s the way I see it, Mom)

Using a collection of Nomadic Skillsets, you can transcend socio-economic structures altogether, and learn from your unique experiences in the process.

Don’t want to go to Colombia? 

No matter what age you are, or what stage of life you are in, there are volunteering hosts looking for help all over the world. 

The best resource for finding a place to volunteer is workaway.info. At workaway.info, you make a profile and browse projects from almost every country on the map. 

A typical work-trade involves approx: 5 hours work, 5 days a week. But many are much less. In return, you receive a place to sleep and food to varying extents. (Some hosts provide all food, others give you a kitchen and you buy your own ). The deal depends on what you agree upon with the host. This is all set up by email before you arrive. 

There are the classic projects like permaculture farms, hostels, and child caretaker gigs. 

But there are also more absurd options like sustainable home builds, language trades, horse ranches, plant retreat centers, teaching gigs, and mushroom farms. 

~~~~~~

Beyond the work, a host often becomes a long-time friend; and other volunteers, your future travel companions. 

“So suck it up and throw your shit in your parents’ basement!”

For a real world example, here’s a podcast interview with Amy St. John where she talks about her experience taking a gap year to teach at a school in Cusco, Peru. 

But GapQuests don’t have to be a year long. A trip to the grocery store can be a GapQuest with the right intention. 

Ex: Optimize peanut butter quality/price ratio while considering the exact volume of organic bananas in your cart. Then, do it again, but consider the volume if you ate the bananas with the peel on, because you can.  

I joke around and say that I took a vacation on February 2nd, 2017 and never came back from vacation. 

Since that day, I’ve simply been taking vacations within the original vacation that I took in February 2017. 

Vacation inside a vacation’s vacation,

or should I say,

GapQuests in side a GapQuest’s GapQuest? 

So a GapQuest is a period of time when your priorities are focused on an interesting mission. 

Send me an email at thenomadtheory@gmail.com, and I will personally work with the first 3 people to help design and take a GapQuest that fits their current life and financial situation.  

Stay wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

Every time I'm with her she describes herself in a new way, an emergence of her deeper essence, so it may merge with her natural instinct. 

We all have this natural instinct. Some people call it intuition, or purpose, or flow. Amanda wrote a book about merging our essence with our instinct -- We are Wild and Hole-y: Merging Essence with Instinct.

She loves to bring a fresh batch of words with her wherever she goes, and the literary dishes compare to nothing you've ever tasted. 

I read a preliminary version of this and found it quite entertaining and informative, the new and finished version is now available on Amazon Kindle Here.

In this conversation we swam through a shimmering pool of mystical concepts and theories, and at the end, Amanda even shared one of her poems from the book called: The Little White Butterfly is a Moth 

It is one of my new favorite poems.

We talked about mindset differences that allow you to go back and change your memories with a new emotional charge. In some supple words Amanda describes the process like this: "We need to take on that suffering and literally purify it in the crucible of your heart, [this way] you're liberating and uplifting all of humanity, through liberating yourself."

Amanda's Instagram: @amanda_leigh_maloney

Stay Wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

Other Theories and Information mentioned:

5:15 Time travel and The Gone World by Tom Sweterlitsch

6:10 "Give yourself a creative means to rewrite the way you think about experience.

6:55 "Trust that it couldn't have happened any other way than the way it did."

7:40 This practice of recharging memories with different energies is called "Bardo" or "Death work"

12:45 Introduction of book and summary

17:45 Isis is not only a terrorist organization. This is also the name of a Spiritual Guide that has the power to ordain humans into priesthood or priestesshood. Amanda is an ordained Priestess of Isis

19:40 Amanda is a Rose worker. She explains how everybody comes from the lineage of the rose; we all have layers and we all have thorns. There are mean parts about us, self-protective parts, that we need to utilize at times.

23:30 We are all making our own meanings, that's why you don't want to initially interpret "signs". We may interpret them based on a false reality, which would lead us farther from the truth.

A.C.E.: To interpret is inevitable, until death. In life, our significance is sourced in experience from this lifetime and beyond, always.

28:30 Amanda claims Joe Rogan gets paid by the meat industry. (We will have to look this up). She says he is not integral at all. I believe he is a good stepping stone for people to be exposed to other forms of thinking especially if they are able to adopt the open-minded skeptic mentality.

32:45 Amanda reads her poem: The Little Butterfly is a Moth

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

Different Dwellings: Helping Build a Sustainable Home in El Bolsón, Argentina

By improving living conditions, human beings will, in turn, improve themselves. It’s a reciprocal cycle, and by automating everything from North Park to New Delhi, we shroud the inner workings of this constant clockwork. After all, most of us don’t really know how the lights turn on when we flip the switch.

What kind of dwellings we construct plays a huge role in the overarching evolution of the human species. From McMansions, to multiplex's, to straw bail huts -- each structure consumes energy and changes the planet in entirely different ways. For more detailed info about the components sustainable construction, slide over to my essay Sustainable Self: Where Our Power Comes From and Why Earthships are so Fantastic.

As we flock to the cities and condominiums, I can only imagine what building my own house would be like: designing the blueprints, choosing the materials, learning new skills as necessary, and maintaining it over time. However impractical a process, I reckon it feels quite rewarding.

In El Bolsón, Argentina during my unplanned 2017 GapQuest, I had an opportunity to work with a man doing just that. His name was Romundo and he liked to work with his hands.

Romundo was the host at my first ever Volunteering Gig. I chose his place because of some pictures on Argentina’s wwoofing site. I have since had over 15 other Volunteering Gigs and his is still one of my favorites. It could be said that if this first Gig wouldn’t have been great, I never would have volunteered again.

Over the course of my stay we made significant progress on his nearly six-year-long project; the construction of a two story home... built by hand... using materials collected from the land itself and other relatively sustainable sources.

The main octogonal frame of the house was supported by a concrete slab, and an arrangement of 2x4 pine planks formed the walls. The house featured a “living roof” made of grass and dirt. It insulates in winter, and cools in the summertime. “At some point,” Romundo tells me, “I’ll have to get up there with a lawn mower.”

We worked for roughly 8 hours a day, 6 days a week, cutting cypress planks with circular saws and angle grinders equipped with a chainsaw blade (a badass tool), mixing clay materials by hand and foot, and leveling eucalyptus porch posts by means of the “string and bucket filled with rocks” technique. (a truly practical physics class application).

Romundo taught me much about construction, but more about crafting quality. He considered his house a work of art, and treated it as such. Maybe I’ll buy an acre out by that pond in Freedom county, build a little shack, spend a few years writing, see what comes of it.

Stay wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

~~~~~~~~~~ 

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

Imagine waking from a peaceful sleep with hopes of sitting in a spot to think about the things that come from deep.

Morning Meditators note this as an instinctual moment, one similar to the feeling an anxious puppy must get when searching for that special spot to curl up his criss crossed legs. For the puppy, finding a perfect spot to sit is a daily challenge. The same is true for Morning Meditators. Especially ones who live amongst infinite insects, deep inside the South-Eastern Peruvian Amazon.

At Novalis, a jungle conservation center for seekers and givers of varying sorts, friends often enjoy ginger tea and conversations about funny dreams while sitting at the morning breakfast table.

Or they sip pineapple tea while describing side-stories on a jungle walk. Sometimes even, lovers share steaming cacao and talk about their feelings under starry skies, as six billion singing cicadas whisper simultaneously.

But for all this chatting, a place had not been designated, specifically, for journeys toward that inside space. These are solo journeys, I describe. Quests en route towards the roots and inside sensors. The map leads to a place where reality can be rearranged.

(Sorry, that was Absurdist psychedelic jungle-talk. Here’s a more docile translation: “there were no good places to think by yourself without falling victim to an assault by a caravan of reasonably aggravated ants.”)

Until one day - a sunny, crowded day - when a Mellow Muse convened with me in Morning Meditation.

As I sat with my white thighs exposed on the sandy jungle floor, the Mellow Muse asked me this: Why not build an enclosed wooden structure where Morning Meditators could go and sit without overhearing conversations, OR  having their nether regions tickled by irritated ants?

The Mellow Muse showed me how to source a style from inside. She showed me how to pull it out with practice, patience and persistence on-the-daily. Gradually, with enough intention and conversation over cups of ginger tea, Jefé (the boss), grew excited with my vision and finally gave me the go-ahead.

~~~~~~

Having subsisted as a Traveling Carpenter (ehem, Yeshua) for years, I gathered the applicable tools, set some wide-eyed goals, and recruited a cornucopia of volunteers with varied, yet relatable roles.

The overall vision flashed and flipped inside of my head, constantly evolving, constantly conforming to what the eclectic gaggle of laborers I found myself commanding could manage with the miscellaneous materials available.

The design changed almost daily. As did the multi-colored hands carrying the wood. High-fives were shared. Blood was shed (hand saws were used to avoid losing any serious appendages). And countless buckets of ginger tea were sweat.

~~~~~~

To be painfully honest,  four small hardwood trees,  as well as a single larger Palo Barbón tree, were felled during the construction of this structure. It was a sacrifice in hopes that future thoughts originating within the bowels of the finished structure would save at least that many trees in the years to come.

Otherwise, most of the building materials were scavenged from fallen trees or scraps found ‘round camp -- as they should be when your entire project could be considered rather superfluous.

I struggled habitually, as if the meditation pod (as it was referred to at the time) wanted me to stay there, at Novalis, forever. I had self-scheduled my soft departure date for one month after beginning construction, and I had planned to successfully finish “in as little as three weeks!”

Yet, this did not happen. There is such a concept called “community,” that, in dignified cases, takes precedence over personal success. Time was put aside to aid in other worthy arenas, such as mental health, and the making of Jungle Butter.

~~~~~

Upon the first attempt to raise its walls, the whole thing fell to pieces. It was a failed design. The other workers and I were distraught, realizing that time was running out and there was a shortage of roofing panels made of Caño Brava and Crisneja leaves, which were required to make the structure waterproof. In fact, we had no idea what we were doing.

~~~~~~~

Morning Meditators need a spot without external communication. A spot physically detached from where the outside action is, so they can start feeling friendly with the inside action.

People also like to drink ginger tea. Some people even like to do both at the same time. But neither like ants in their pants.

Novalis, despite being located entirely off-grid, and 2.5 hours from notable civilization, is surprisingly action packed. I began wondering: Why leave the Tea Takers out to parrish, even by so frivolous a demise as agitated ants?

I asked the Mellow Muse again for her guidance, this time by means of enduring several morning meditations deep within the rainforest, unprotected, with frustrated ants nibbling on my nards. Finally, I was blessed with a design that just might work. But it wasn’t for a mediation pod; it was for a Tea House.

As if coordinated by a Universal Logistics Supervisor, an unexpected wave of able bodied monkeys arrived (including one particularly useful kangaroo) with their hands prepared to harvest and weave the remaining 45 meters of  Crisneja roofing panels and attach the protective mesh screen that would prevent even the most antagonized ant from enjoying a taste of sweaty scrotum, or steaming labia.

In any case, as you might’ve guessed from looking at the accompanying images, the primary structure and roof were successfully completed before my forlorn departure. And despite a series of unpredictabilities, our remaining gang of jungle heroes slapped together a remarkable set of saloon doors and some stand-out decorative touches that would make any environmental designer squeal.

All in all, the project required several hundred kilos of jungle wood, ~500 nails, 10 meters of (black) wire screen, 6000 Crisneja leaves, 12 shoots of Caño Brava, one French thumb, +400 wo-man hours, 4 months, and approx. 300 cups of ginger tea.

Alas, the Morning Meditators are now protected, and so are the Tea Takers. Save the few who don’t mind angry insects offering oral titillation.

Stay Wild Folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

While marching on in search of bread and honey, or something equally yummy to quell my outspoken tummy, I heard the hollow wooden sound of something funny. 

My nylon pockets lacked much money, sixty Soles if I t’was lucky, and it didn’t help that on the map I walked in Pisac, a mountain tourist trap set on soaking up the economic max. 

Then, “twiddly toooot, fiddleee feee”,  a lofty mountain echo grew and shrunk, a sound so sweet it taunted me. 

It wasn’t jazz, it wasn’t funk. It was a weirder tune; less common than a shining daylight moon. 

A tweety bird or mountain man? I placed a bet. My mind went 50/50. 

Drum roll please… it was a bird-like man, fit with magic mountain hands! 

He didn’t need a band, nope, just one healthy set of lungs and sixty Soles worth of wooden fun.

Anthropological wiz-bangs and rainbow poncho-wearing Peruvian elders alike have come to believe the Quena flute (pronounced “Kehna”) and its birdlike woodwind tones first sliced through foggy Andean Mountain clouds more than 500 years ago. 

A surprise: although machines now fabricate a huge percentage of these magnificent Peruvian souvenirs, its basic design is still the same as it was when the Incas tooted coded messages across the mountain waterfalls. 

While potentially offensive to die-hard vegans, seeing as it is made from what I might guess was less than sustainably sourced llama bone, my current Quena flute has become one of my most noble and loyal travel companions, but this wasn’t always the case...

For a two week stretch more solid than the immoral bone itself, I blew and puffed and spit, but my flute produced little more than a random airy screech, most often sounding like a dead bird rather than a living one, or perhaps a bored infant blowing milky bubbles. 

Such toil was not only caused by an innate lack in motivation, but also the flute’s atypical design. Instead of blowing air into a normal round hole, the fluteswoman is required to cover a large hole with the flappy skin of her lower lip, then blow at a rather specific angle, with particular pressure, over the tiny U shaped mouth notch until a crisp “twiddly tooooot” follows her efforts. Fortunately for the fledgling flautist, this extra bit of effort affords the unique capability of playing a full three octaves, even though most similar woodwind flutes can only produce two. 

Some experienced flautists claim that the magically transportable instrument has a total of 101 uses -- no more, no less -- ranging from makeshift blow gun for self defense to firewood. I have personally only been able to discover 68, but faith in supreme potentiality keeps me curious and hungry. 

So, as did loly mountain peasants and alien-allied Inca Emperors, I will continue playing the Quena flute. And so will Perú. Together, like a flock of tweety mountain birds, we’ll toot into the future for the righteous sake of universal harmony and auditory fun! 

Stay wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

“The more we believe in something, the more powerful that thing becomes.” - Melanie Dizon

Melanie and I first crossed paths in 2017 while making potatoes with quinoa somewhere deep within the Amazon rainforest. Then, we talked about Earth Dome homes and Buckminster Fuller. Ol' Bucky would've loved to meet Melanie Dizon. 

Her ideas never stop flowing, and by working with some particular medicinal plants, she hones the motivation and skills required to put them into action. 

Melanie is an artist and designer of oh so many sorts. While we were working together in various capacities earlier this year (2019), I must've seen her engaged with 25 different projects. Most of which had to do with Indigenous Cultural Preservation and Rainforest Conservation. 

 She was born in the Philippines, raised in New York City, and currently resides in the Southeast Peruvian Amazon. She moved there shortly after Donald Trump was elected. 

 An entrepreneur since she was 16, her passion for design and storytelling has brought her to the work of bridging cultures and traditions through the creative lens. This sometimes means filming documentary video of legendary cacao maestras, or photographing plants for her company @nahasupernatural. 

 Her current work involves tea experiences using wild-foraged Amazonian plants, installation art using natural materials and mixed media, and is a curator for indigenous art exhibitions.

Melanie's spirit animal is a spider. 

Check out Melanie at @medizon on Instagram or @nahasupernaturals or www.melaniedizon.co

Stay wild folks, 

A.C.E. the Theorist 

~~~~~~~~~~

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

As some listeners and readers have mentioned, the focus of TNT may seem "all over the place!"

I agree with this. But at the same time, is a nomad not "all over the place?"

The original Theory is this: People who explore before deciding what to do with their lives, don’t regret it.

The core of the THEORY was mainly a response to my experience after everyone and their mothers running off to college. This included my mother and me.

For whatever reason, I didn't enjoy being in class AT ALL. I fell asleep in almost every class. There was no major that jumped out at me, even after switching between 6 majors/minors in a single year. (6!)

THE NOMAD THEORY (TNT) was a way to legitimize my exploration after leaving college -- it became an experiment. And my goal now is that TNT Network becomes an inspirational resource for other young people like me at that point, who had "no idea what to do with their lives."

In reality, these kids probably do have an "idea". But by the time colleges come banging down the door for their money (money they don't actually own), they still don't feel passionate about any one major. My Theory is that these young people may just need time to explore, first.

To explore outside an institution requires a Nomadic Mindset. This means being ok with moving from project to project, or job to job, or place to place. It means being ok with balancing out work and pure, curiosity-driven exploration.

This may mean postponing college for a year. Or taking a break after year one (what I did). It may even mean quitting a job that isn't fulfilling your innate desire for intuitional exploration and expression.

~~~~~~~

As it turns out, most people already have a Nomadic Mindset.

My mom has probably worked 10 different jobs since graduating college, and there are probably more she hasn’t mentioned. I just met a 31 year old last night who has had 12 jobs in 10 years. Many people have very emotional connections to these transitions and love talking about them. TNT is about being ok with this process, and often living it intentionally.

Plus, most people say they want to travel. Especially young people from the U.S. who have all the power in the world to do so.

Combine the two, and you've got THE NOMAD THEORY

~~~~~~~~

Even with this obvious trend effecting most First World people, explaining the benefit of Intentional Exploration as a cure for the "directionless mind" has been difficult. Even my most active listeners still don't get what I am trying to communicate. They think TNT is a "travel blog"

TNT Network is not a "travel blog". It is a resource for people who don't know exactly what to do with their lives -- just yet. It is for people who may need time to figure it out, or perhaps some guidance and leadership. TNT Network provides them with the information, tools, guidance, and inspiration needed to embark upon a GapQuest and rearrange their habits/skills/goals to find a lifestyle that feels inspiring.

"Throw in a little entertainment value and you've got yourself a show!"

THE NOMAD THEORY Podcast August 15th, 2018 Ríncon, Puerto Rico <---- (Birthday of TNT) THE NOMAD THEORY podcast is born

"On TNT podcast, A.C.E. the Theorist interviews people who embody the Nomadic Mindset -- while they sip interesting beverages. Then, on Sundays, A.C.E. reads winning submissions from the Absurd Words writing contest."

All in all, I'm learning a lot from the project, especially from interactions with listeners who have suggestions/comments. If anything I say shakes your rattle, don’t hesitate to reach out on nomadtheory.net

I reckon that a combination of TNT and some other side hustles/businesses will be financially gainful someday. I trust things will happen the way they are supposed to if I get at least 1% better every day at something. But the real purpose of this project is to teach people how to be ok with not knowing what to do with their lives (because most of us don’t)

As per usual, thanks a million for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, stay wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

~~~~~~~

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

This is why Jack Wheeler founded Xapiri the way he did. As an organization that makes money as they fulfill their mission: "to increase awareness and inspire positive change for the Amazon and its stewards."

Listen to episode #34 of TNT to hear how Jack Wheeler and Xapiri are preserving Amazonian culture and supporting ethnic artists -- while simultaneously running a sustainable business. 

Their online Reports are some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen on the internet. https://ancestraltransmission.xapiri.com/part-1

Jack and his team of cultural documentarians have relationships with 10 ethnic groups in the Amazon Rainforest. They work with them in several capacities, but the focus is always on the arts. A middle-aged woman from the Matsés  tribe for example, may weave a bracelet using yarn she spun herself, into a traditional pattern. 

Normally, someone in the tribe would wear it as a decorative piece. But because of Jack and Xapiri, the tribeswoman can send her creation to Cusco and receive a high price relative to any other retail method available.  The profits are then split between the artist and Xapiri, creating a balanced Win-Win business model. 

In this episode of TNT, Jack and I talk about how Jack started Xapiri and where he sees it evolving in the future. I feel lucky know Jack and am inspired by his creativity in the space of Cultural Preservation. 

Xapiri is very active on Instagram @Xapiri  sharing up to date, accurate news about the rainforest and conservation efforts. Their website (xapiri.com) has plenty of information about and gorgeous photos of the ethnic groups as well as an online store where you can buy products and support their vision. 

As per usual, thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY!

Stay wild folks, 

A.C.E. the Theorist 

p.s. Yes, that is Dennis McKenna in the thumbnail.

~~~~~~~~

On THE NOMAD THEORY podcast, A.C.E. the Theorist interviews eccentric people who embody the Nomadic Mindset, while the sip interesting beverages. Then, on Sundays A.C.E. reads winning pieces from the Absurd Words Writing Contest.

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

She showed me a glimpse of what it feels like to be a mother.

In this episode of TNT Abusrd Words, I share the story of how Season two of TNT got started, and announce the concept for my new tattoo. I'll give you a hint, it has to do with this episode.

~~~~~~~

On January 23rd, 2019, at approximately 10:33 p.m., walking beneath the steamy jungle palms, I sensed the presence of - and witnessed in my mind's eye - a woman standing by the pineapples wearing a white dress. 

She wanted me to dance with her. I was frightened, and apparently not prepared for this contact based on my reaction to turn away slowly and crawl into a ball on the sand. 

There, with my forehead pressed against Earth, I understood a deep sorrow for all mothers who had lost their children. Within 5 seconds I was sobbing. My tears formed a puddle and I rubbed my face in it like a bathing snake. 

These emotions passed, but were quickly replaced by an unexpected sense of arousal. I felt horny and wanted to be with somebody, but I didn't know who. My knees and elbows were still flat on the ground when a sensation of being "filled up" overcame me. 

My vision was painted with iridescent neon mandalas and I was well on my way to orgasm when the sensation stopped. Laughter seemed to echo between the steamy tree trunks like ping pong balls bouncing in a bath house... 

9 months later, on October 23rd, 2019, I started season 2 of my podcast, THE NOMAD THEORY. That evening I also drank Bobinsana. She communicated to me that it was not Grandmother Nature who had impregnated me (as I had thought the entire 9 months), but that it was her, Bobinsana.  This blog is now our baby- and we share a responsibility to care for it.

~~~~~~~

On THE NOMAD THEORY podcast, A.C.E. the Theorist interviews eccentric people who embody the Nomadic Mindset, while the sip interesting beverages. Then, on Sundays A.C.E. reads winning pieces from the Absurd Words Writing Contest. 

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories. 

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before  deciding which one is meant for you. 

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive  a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally) 

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us. 

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

Kawsiaitika means "Flower of Life" in the ancient Andean language of  Quechua. This also happens to be the name of a vegetarian café in Calca Perú, partially owned and operated by Roberto Arroyo.

A crypto currency expert, trained vegan chef, and all around Zenful guy, Crypto Roberto shares his best kept secrets about the Sacred Valley of Perú. 

This is one of my favorite episodes of all time.

 The belly of the Sacred Valley has grown fuller since the last time I was here in 2017. Fuller, but not fatter. Just like your belly if you stop by the Kawsaitika Café in Calca, Perú. 

In 2017 I had the delicious privelage of assisting Vegan Chef and generally awesome human Roberto Arroyo in the kitchen as he "guest cheffed" at the restaurant I was working at in Pisaq. "Back in the Saq!" 

On the day of our interview I enjoyed a creative twist ona typical Peruvian dish called Lomo Saltado, where instead of using Lomo (beef flank) Roberto substituted local mushrooms. I could barely tell the difference. 

Except, in how I felt afterwards. Normally I eat after interviews, but as you can probably tell from my voice, Roberto's funky fungi twist on the dish had me bursting with excitement.

Listen in to hear why Roberto thinks the vegetables can help connect us all like nodes on a  computer network, and how anyone can step into a happier lifestyle  -- one meal at a time. 

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, stay wild folks.

A.C.E. the Theorist 

Quotes:

"Most of the food we produce goes straight to the animals. -- the soy, the corn. If we were to switch to a vegetarian diet as a planet, we would reduce a lot of that environmental destruction."

Cowspiracy: Documentary about the meat industry.

"We underestimate the network effect. If we just focus on one person, then two people, those people can then share something with two other people. If we look at it this way, we're kind of like nodes in a hub. Every network has hubs from where they share data. 1 person can tell 10 people instantly. If we look at it that way, we can have more impact that we think."

"Protein is in everything. It's even in lettuce."

Hats and socks off to Abigail Dundon for winning the 2nd weekly Absurd Words Writing Contest with here piece mummy martyrs. 

                                                   mummy martyrs

a female fig wasp will climb inside the fruit from which she is

named and, if the fig is male, lay her eggs. If the fig is female

and unfit for the offspring, the wasp will have no choice but to

pollinate the plant and die alone, cocooned in its flowers.

her two she wings will sit paired in the grass like dirty

sneakers on a welcome mat as the sticky womb, suspended

above, digests the body until there is nothing left of it – a

closed casket funeral in the middle of may.

in a few weeks’ time, when the flowers are bloomed and the

fruit is sweet, you’ll choose a coffin from the tree and eat it

piece by piece – picking bones from your teeth like seeds.

and I hope, in that moment, you’ll think about the last day

before flesh turned to sugar, picture the welcome mat wings,

and convince yourself that maybe no one knows sacrifice quite

as well as fig wasps do.

     And here's mine, it is unnamed, as are so many soldiers who've sacrificed it all...

A camel spit on our passenger’s side window. The gooey liquid, (if you could even call it a liquid), slid through the thick layer of dust and old oil spray that covered not only the window, but every inch of our Humvee. In a way, the camel had helped us, seeing that the 5 inch splat provided a tiny crystal peep hole on an otherwise nearly opaque glass panel.

Through it, I saw cages of dogs, a kid selling DVD’s, and the rest of our 6 vehicle convoy trailing closely behind. Nothing out of the ordinary.

My trigger finger was stuck in its usual position, gently brushed above the steel ring that kept my rifle from firing against my command. The safety was on and I laughed as my best friend mused about flat beer and strip clubs. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. He was the only single one in our platoon. Everyone else would see their beautiful brides that Thursday coming – for the first time in 18 months.

I took a breath, remembering how it felt to run my hands over her shoulders, and then closed my eyes…

Tick, tick, tick.

A shower of pebbles shot from the tail of a motorbike that had been stopped in front of us. Its rider -- a twenty-something dressed in black robes -- looked back frantically, then sped around a crumbling concrete wall. As soon as he disappeared, a rusty pickup truck took his place, then another, until 5 more were blocking our path, each of them retrofitted with machine guns and makeshift plated armor.

My trigger finger slid off of the solid steel and onto something more useful. I opened the door and took aim.

So did they.

Snaking lines of RPG smoke whizzed past our leading vehicle. Bystanders ducked and screamed. Clink, clink, clink. My best friend was yelling through the open Humvee, but his shouts were broken up by vicious brass clapping glass.

Another whizzing rocket. I turned for that moment and watched as our secondary vehicle incurred a direct hit. Our third vehicle was now our secondary vehicle.

Within one minute I had run through an entire clip. Half my bullets hit their marks and the half whizzed into an open air market located behind the trucks. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

They wouldn’t stop. Three of my men were lying dead behind me. The other four were standing strong beside me. I needed to get them home. But I would never know if they did. An armed grenade rolled beneath the door, and I jumped on top of it. 

THANKS FOR LISTENING TO THE NOMAD THEORY

and thank you The Good Lawdz, for letting us use their song, Evidence Song

I was looking for a cozy place to stay - with friends - not a glorified pick-pocket tour guide administration dead set to suck my Gringo blood.

At UchukutaWasi, my belly is full, I am warm, and there is reason to leave my bedroom besides buying bread or bananas.

Although I still eat plenty of bread and bananas, Steph Marca and her tranquil partner Neyser (one of the cooler names) have made my shortish stay in Cusco a cultural delight.

Having passed through Cusco a plethora of times, I was tired of staying by myself in hostels. I wanted to make friends and taste some "non-touristic ice cream". (in this case, the "non-touristic ice cream" being access to information that the tour guides won't tell you.)

Steph speaks Spanish, English, French, and Quechua.

She will tell you all the juicy details:
1. Where to eat (or how to cook) the dankness.
2. Which of the mysteriously confusing buses to take.
3. How to do Salkantay, Rainbow Mountain and Machu Picchu for a smidgen of the normal cost.

She will hook it up!

Plus, the house is literal meters from an expansive eucalyptus forest where physically inclined people can enjoy a 4-5 hike to and from Ruins that only very Special Gringos get to see. Stay at Uchukuta Wasi, and a Special Gringo you can be

UchukutaWasi is more than a hostel, and it is more than a Couchsurfing house. Here, you will be family. And that is not to be cliché, I truly feel welcome as a brother of their little growing tribe. Hey, you even get a key to the front door!

Stay tuned. Steph and I did a podcast about her vision for the future of UchukutaWasi and you will be able to hear in her words how this place is set to grow.

I LOVE UCHUKUTA WASI!

Come and get yourself some "non-touristic ice cream"!

Stay Wild Folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist

p.s. Here's a recipe to make Uchukuta:

Gather these ingredients: 

1. Fresh Parsley
2. Peanuts
3. Onions 
4. Hot Yellow Peppers 
5. Huacati (if you can get it)(it's basically mint)

Then blend them with a food processor or a hammer. 

Serve over rice, chicken, or non-touristic ice cream. 

Practicing his heavily autobiographical “spontaneous prose” style of writing , unproclaimed Father of the Beat Generation, Jack Kerouac, famously wrote the final draft of his cherished novel On the Road within a period of twenty days. He did this while his girlfriend systematically administered him benzedrine, cigarettes, bowls of pea soup and cups of coffee. 

According to Kerouac, the book (now considered an American classic) was “really a story about two Catholic buddies roaming the country in search of God.” Yet, from a generational perspective, On the Road seems to have been misinterpreted as a tale of two drunken companions “out looking for kicks.” 

In either case, Kerouac's vivid first-person accounts of hitchhiking, spiritual jazz, and social transcendence quickly became somewhat of a religious reckoning and the basis for a characteristically distinct perspective that would eventually be termed The Beat Generation.  Whether the Hippies themselves were products of On the Road is debatable, and Kerouac would likely cringe if someone made such a statement in his presence. 

However, one thing is certain; I wouldn’t have started hitchhiking if it weren’t for that book...

Hours after an abrupt and accidental separation with my business partner, I stood alone, waiting with my thumb stuck towards the heavens. There, along an empty gravel berm fifteen minutes outside Ushuaia, carrying a box of corn flakes, I waited. And waited. And waited. And ate corn flakes. 

From the asphalt beside a yellow billboard -- “Chile 50 km”-- a mangy black dog caught scent of my cereal and approached the box with his slimy pink tongue hanging out. My K-9 companion, as he was, looked to be a mutant experiment programmed to survive at all costs by some demented unseen hand of nature. 

Swollen, balding lumps protruded from the beast’s matted coat, which ran in swirling directions over his crooked back and bowed hind legs. His appearance resembled the efforts of an elementary school art student attempting to paint a dog, but if that same student had recently consumed a sufficient dose of psilocybin containing mushrooms.

I imagined a wild sewer system orgy taking place beneath the streets of Ushuaia, with several generations of freaky cross-bred canines barking and splashing orgasmically; of course, going at it raw-dog. 

His pimpled tongue graced my hand as I knelt in respect to his consumptual desires. “Now if I give you these corn flakes, you’ll guard me from any unwelcome sexual molesters, right? Yes? Ok, friend, here you go.” And just like that, we were intertwined. Harry and Hedwig. Solo and Chewbacca. Jesus and God. 

Kerouac's famous story reads like one long poem, pulsing in and out and up and down as might an improvisational jazz saxophonists lungs as he plunges through a twinkling piano riff. That is, if the musician were inspired by what the revered Beat author might call “it.”

 “He has it!”  might’ve said Dean Moriarty, the fictional character Kerouac used to embody a real life  Neal Cassidy in On the Road. The notion of “it” today is lived as an intuitional state of feeling often called the “Flow State”  by Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and professional snowboarders. 

Flow State is a humanoid experiential phenomena where thoughts blur into actions without ever being considered. Think pure human instinct, but on a tangible, technical dimension. People in the “Flow State” display seemingly superhuman feats and occasionally, depending on the activity, experience a euphoria more addictive than adrenaline. 

Kerouac, it seemed, at least towards the end of his career, relied on a potent concoction of fermented beverages and prescription amphetamines to reach such an elusive state. Consumption habits aside, his previous years of practice writing novels and poetry should not be forgotten. He must have possessed quite a degree of trust between his work and inspiration, considering his premeditated decision to cut and tape strips of tracing paper together (into a 120 foot long roll) before beginning the twenty day creative bender that produced On the Road. 

Not so uncharacteristically, Karouac claims the effort was “inspired by the Holy Spirit” and died considering himself a Catholic above anything else. 

From townside, moving in our direction, waltzed a twiggy, conquistador-looking fellow wearing a knit beanie atop his braided dreadlocks. 

Having woken up well before dawn, I was logically entitled to first dibs in the pecking order. This was my berm. These were my corn flakes. But that didn’t stop this undignified invader. No, he walked closer and closer, before silently taking a stance -- with his own thumb stuck up towards the heavens-- a mere twenty-five meters down the road in front of  me. 

I smirked at my flea-ridden partner with a furrowed brow, and he stared back, using his one functional eye. 

“What are we going to do about this, champ?” I asked, kneeling down to get his opinion. The dog woofed and I felt a layer of moist, vaporous saliva form on my face. “Good idea,” I said. “Let’s go with that.” 

I turned in direction of the speechless invader and cupped my hands together, forming a makeshift amplification system, and informed him, politely, that this was my turf. He stared a moment, then started walking back towards town. 

Elated with the effectiveness of my assertion, I called out again: “Yeah, that’s right! Keep on walking!” which, as it turned out, wasn’t a very good idea. The dreaded disruptor clipped a rock from the ground and started charging towards us with savage rapidity. 

“Oh shit!” I yelled, fleeing further up the berm, showering an arc of cornflakes in the process. “What are you doing? Get him boy!”  But the dog only galloped along, slobbering gleefully. So much for our deal, I thought, and we retreated up a small hill, defeated. 

Though the final draft of On the Road was completed in twenty days, Kerouac spent five years or more beating around the United States by means of stuck-up thumb, hard labor, and good will; all the while scratching notes, persistently building on previous drafts, and laying out a storyline for the eventual finished product. He recorded quotes and spontaneous “sketches” of scenes as he saw them at their exact moment of occurrence, using whatever words flowed, and supposedly left editing to the wayside in his final draft, despite constantly revising and rewriting his notes. 

This deep interdependence with spontaneity, or the flow state, was notably connected to his faith in the Holy Spirit and the Catholic God while he wrote On the Road.  According to his biographer, Douglas Brinkley, nearly every page of his diary during this period featured a sketch of a crucifix, a prayer, or an appeal to Christ to be forgiven. 

When Kerouac was six years old, he was asked to say a rosary as penance after his first Catholic Confession, during which he heard God tell him that he had a good soul, that he would suffer in life and die in pain and honor, but would in the end receive salvation. This experience, in addition to his later studies in Buddhism, would inform the worldview of Kerouac's writing. 

Drivers employ a variety of signals to communicate the simple phrase “screw you dirty hippy” as they carry on, dejecting your request for charity. 

The most common, and most annoying, is an attempted proclamation of innocence in the form of a frantic forward pointing motion; as if they did not understand I would have felt beyond blessed receiving a mere five-minute joyride, just to say I’d hitchhiked.

But the worst way to say it, the truly soul crushing one, is the complete disregard of your existence. Stark-faced and frowning, they drive past without offering even the slightest glance of empathy. A lonely crippled homeless man, stepped on and over, by dignified, middle class citizenry.

Until someone does stop, in a black van, with electronic salsa music rattling its doors.

“Where you go, Gringo?”

“Chile,” I said, staring in the face of my potential savior.

“Vamos!” Let’s go.

I threw my furry friend a mound of golden flakes and cranked the metal portal shut.

We didn’t talk, my driver nor I, until we reached the border crossing when he said: “You go.” and pointed at the office gate.

Naturally, I got out expecting him to pull on through and meet me on the other side, but I was only fifteen feet from the door when –Skrreeeeaaaccch -- the sound of whining rubber filled the chilly Patagonian air. There he went, my savior, raging back towards town.

A lonely Gringo once again, and damn, he drove off with my cornflakes.

If he were alive today, Jack Kerouac might either be a tongue-speaking born again Christian minister, or maybe, just maybe, a meditating ashram-bounded Buddhist monk.

Instead, he died at age 47 on October 21, 1969 of an abdominal hemorrhage; not as a minister or monk, but as a writer, writing whatever came to him. The man flowed with God and wrote it down, up until he hit the final border, beating in a state of thumbs-to-Heaven generation glory. 

She would switch from French, to Swiss German, to English, then to Spanish all around the same breakfast table, and she was only 19 at the time!

We talk about her time volunteering at a school called Pukllasunchis with children with "habilidades differentes," or "different Skills," while living in Cusco. And also how she studied in Chile for a year while still in high school.

She mentions that just because she took a gap year, and was on a second during the time of our interview, this doesn't mean she won't ever go to college. On the contrary, it is preparing her for the day when she knows exactly what she does want to study.

Amy Started a travel blog a couple years ago where she shares stories and photos about places she has visited. It's mostly a hobby, but she says anybody is welcome to check it out. We talk briefly about her preferences in language for different activities and for different reasons. She prefers English for writing and reading, but finds math easier in German. Here's a link to her blog: http://unacaminanteinquieta.com/

Amy Saint-John is one of those people you feel like you will run into on the road again someday, I surely hope it happens. All the best to you Amy with your travels and language learning adventures!

And as per usual, thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY!

Stay wild folks, 
A.C.E. the Theorist

It’s suffocating up here, really. Too many breaths I’ve taken full of rotten dust. 

My breakfast tastes of alien excrement and dinner moldy avocados.

Answer me this, hermano? Why me? Why am I the one assuming such a burden? 

Morning, dawn and dusk and night, all I see are charcoal clouds. 

The others don’t seem to mind as much, yet I am tortured here, dangling by a little stem, while my older cousins drift away; motivated by nothing, it seems, but moving on. 

If it were me who bore those roots below, I’d jump into the river. 

Yeah, get me and mines a spot down stream, reroot somehow, grow some apples, maybe make some apple cider. 

But it isn’t up to me, apparently. I’m just a le . . . le . . . snap!

What was that? It’s happening! The ancient wiggle wiggle! Detachment. 

Freedom! Ffffffffffffff

David Nebinski is the host and producer of Portfolio Career Podcast. 

I have never met anyone more excited about podcasts, or finding your passion for that matter (save Tony Robbins).

David is the fearless leader of our TPF (The Podcasting Fellowship) Alumni group. This is a magical place where all the members of the first ever Podcasting Fellowship run by Seth Godin and Alex DiPalma meet to communicate and share progress. It's a "cohort", really.

David is constantly experimenting with different methods to connect with his listeners. #PodcastLife. And the work shows, too. At the time of this TNT episode, David had recently released the 78th episode of his show (in only a little over a year!) One of these episodes was an interview with Seth Godin himself, which we talk about more particularly in our conversation. 

David interviews people who are intentionally learning new skills, building projects, and gaining experiences which form a portfolio that helps them attain an optimum state of passion. It seems a unique mixture of these are required to reach premium productivity. 

I owe David a lot, and I hope we continue making audio magic together for years to come! Thanks David

And as per usual, thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY,

Stay wild folks,

A.C.E. the Theorist 

For more information about the Absurd Words Writing Contest, visit nomadtheory.net. There, you'll also find podcast show notes, a Bootstrap Business page, a catalog of Interesting Beverages, a Library of Medicinal Plants, and an extensive series of written Theories.

By implementing a combination of TNT principles and Nomadic Skills, you have the power to explore exotic and absurd lifestyles, before deciding which one is meant for you.

And for a limited time eternity, visit nomadtheory.net to sign up for an occasional newsletter -- Theories from the Road (which is a trip of its own) -- and you'll also receive a video of A.C.E. playing the flute in a special outfit. (changes seasonally)

Please take a deep breath aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh and feel a live fellow theorist, because the Age of Intuition is upon us.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, I'm A.C.E. the Theorist,

Stay Wild Folks

View and Purchase books here: https://amzn.to/2pNVjNe

5:00 Dennis works with a lot of corporate executives. He noticed they have learned to create internal superstitions after giving up on religion at some point. He helps them put a name to it.

6:00 "I was the bridge between spirituality and business... You can call it anything you want. We can call it mindfulness... Or stress management... By selling it to to these corporations, people who wouldn't normally be exposed to these subjects find themselves in a yoga studio"

17:00 At some point people call Dennis "too positive". He will hope for the best but prepare for the worst, but also be open about when he is nervous.

18:00 "I hope to always approach a person as a future friend"

27:00 One of Dennis's friends only carries a single roller suitcase. In the summer he trades his pants and in the winter he trades his shorts. This way he can travel and house-sit anywhere in the world on a whim.

35:00 Dennis and I talk about drinking and ecstatic dance. In NYC the dance events can have over 600 people and run for up to 5 hours. They have them 4-5 days a week and people rarely drink alcohol. It is a wonderful exercise, in my opinion, to go to a party and not drink. It forces you to be a different kind of social.

45:00 Dennis works with local NYC companies that sponsor his events. He tries to find businesses that will benefit from having their products around the type of people who attend his events and they gladly provide refreshments for no charge.

47:00 I asked Dennis if he would call himself "enlightenment". He answered by explaining his philosophy of Stoicism and a book called The Obstacle is the Way by Ryan Holiday. His Mother was basically a natural born Stoic and lived by the principles of the book without having heard of them.

49:00 "You build a staircase one step at a time" - Dennis's Grandpa

4:45 Grace explains how she goes about making decisions. “What I like to practice is always following my heart. taking a moment to really tap in to what my heart is really telling me… It can feel like a lot of different things. it can feel very physical at times, like even a pain or a twinge in my heart that says this isn’t the right place for you to be right now.”

13:45 Grace gives her language learning tips (common words, important words, useful words) I’ve written about this briefly in a magazine article, here’s a link to that:

12:00 How long is necessary to stay in one spot if you want to fully engage with the native people? and how do you engage with local people while you’re there instead of just wasting all your money at the bars?

17:00 How to be of service

Thinking about taking a gap year, but don’t know anyone who did it without becoming a good-for-nothing wastrel? 💩

I was planning to interview Dennis Sarkozy (episode #13 TNT in NYC) during my tour of NYC, but I didn’t expect the surprise guest of today’s show — Joshua Keay. 🗽

To use Dennis’s words, Josh “jumped” when he heard I am focused on finding the best ways for people to take a guilt-free gap year without going broke. Having taken one himself, he was excited to share his thoughts on the concept with anyone considering a gap year. 🤔✈️

Listen to the show and read the notes/quotes here🌈:

☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️

Josh developed some basic skills in graphic design (namely photoshop) around age 16 or 17, and was supporting himself entirely within a year of graduating high school. ✌🏼️💵

After realizing a college degree wasn’t 100% necessary, he worked more and more independent gigs with design agencies, or architecture firms; eventually earning enough to survive only working 2-3 days a week. 🗓

Josh is big on semantics, so calling himself an “artist and designer that works in technology” is mostly a simple tag line for when people ask the classic question: ”What do you do?” 🕴🎩

Furthering that thought, he talks about certain words being “precious” and shares brief stories about working with the founders of Air BnB, who would rarely mention what they do at a party, even though they are billionaires: 🔮🛌

“There’s something interesting to be said about when you get to a point of not broadcasting what you do. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication and humility is the ultimate status symbol.” - Joshua Keay

This interview is one off the most full-bodied and informative I’ve done so far. Josh considers the word ‘insights’ too precious to describe them — preferring ’ramblings of a madman’ — but I highly recommend reading through the show notes/quotes dictated below. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Especially if you are at all interested in developing a career as a designer, artist, programmer, consultant, or anything traditionally considered “freelance”. (Josh doesn’t like the word ‘freelance’ either, lol: )✏️💻🎨🎷

I admire his semantic obsession, if he would call it that, and found myself with an increased awareness of my own speech after our conversation. Of course, it helps listening to my own enchanting voice 100 times over while editing these episodes, but let me know if anyone experiences a similar phenomena in the comments below! 🤓

As always, thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY 🔮

Stay Wild Folks!

A.C. Ridenour🍌

(THE NOMAD THEORY is available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and GooglePlay. If you feel so inclined, leave a review on Apple Podcasts and I would be very happy :)

☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️

3:45 Josh talks about the term “sliding not deciding”, which sociologists use to describe people who follow in the steps of their life based on “what others think they should do” v.s. “what they personally want and think they should do.”

4:05 “[Find] opportunities to do a cold stop and say ‘wait, is this something that I want, is it really really important?’ And that gap year that I took between high school and college made all that difference — and it was definitely an opportunity to self reflect. I went into it with a certain amount of confidence and I emerged with dramatically more confidence when everything kind of worked out.” - Joshua Keay

5:30 “After graduating high school, Josh walked into a Boston temp agency and said, “hey, I’m a graphic designer” and showed them his portfolio as a 17 year old. They didn’t even notice he hadn’t been to a University and a week later they called him with a job offer.”

7:00 Josh joined the Brown University entrepreneurial society without actually attending the school.

9:30 Josh gives his opinions about not going to college: He says if you are not going to go to college, you should have some sort of group to attend or activity to practice on a consistent basis that gets you to need an alarm clock in the morning. I agree with him. It can be as simple as writing in a journal everyday or some kind of meditation practice, but having a grounding intention of improvement at some kind of craft or practice helps when trying to make decisions.

11:15

“You can think of Universities and corporations as medieval kingdoms;
you’re either part of this one, or you’re part of this one.”

15:30

"Paying my way through school made me keenly aware it is an expensive
hobby. Every single day sitting in class is costing hundreds of
dollars and suddenly playing hooky is quite expensive."

16:25 Josh talks about the variance in the price of College depending on if you are getting student loans or not. It is kind of like paying for a hotel; there’s the rack rate, which is the highest possible cost, but with a little bit of haggling that can usually come down. It’s the same way with college.

17:00 “An artist and a designer that works in technology”

18:00 “The founders of Air Bnb don’t even mention what they do. There’s something interesting to be said about when you get to a point of not broadcasting what you do. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication and humility is the ultimate status symbol.”

19:00 Josh describes the difference between a freelancer and a consultant. “As a freelancer you are more like an employee with no job security. As a consultant, you are providing your opinion about what should be done regarding the direction of a company or project.” I think this distinction is key, and might be extremely valuable before starting out in a bootlegger-type scenario.

20:00 Josh talks about confidence and shares some examples of how it feels to be worthy of sharing your opinion with conviction. “I’m still wrong about stuff, but I’m wrong with conviction” Sometimes it’s like being a therapist and your client just needs to sit down and talk through their problems.

His Soundcloud (https://soundcloud.com/alec_munson) currently features 79 original tracks, including his Sun King EP [70k plays], and the single "Agave" [156k plays]. 👏

His latest release "Attached" will be featured on his freshly polished album Season of the Witch, which goes public tomorrow, 11-1-2018 on Spotify. 💽

In addition to the album, Alec is throwing a ALBUM RELEASE PARTY this Friday, November 2nd @FullPintWildSide in Lawrenceville. 5310 Butler Street. $5 cover at the door. Everyone's invited. 🔈🔈

☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️☮️

Being someone who struggled (and continues to struggle) with Public Identity, I asked Munson why he decided to stick with his birth name instead of picking a stage name, like "lil Munson" or something equally ridongculous. (3:00)🌀

We talked about the publication strategies he and Red 7 have tried, and he shared his favorites -- along with some brief advice for anyone starting out in the music game. (7:20)💵💰

Alec released his first full-length work, Lost Art, over 3 years ago. He describes what has changed in regards to his expectations and aspirations since starting out. (9:00)🚀

Towards the end, I tried to figure out where Munson gets his inspiration -- without asking the question "where do you get your inspiration?". But of course, like every good podcaster, I couldn't help myself and kept the cliche alive by asking that exact question. (15:00)🤔

Listen to Alec's new album, Season of the Witch on Spotify tomorrow! And check out the ALBUM RELEASE PARTY this Friday at Full Pint Wild Side in Lawrenceville. 🎉

As always, thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY!🌎

Stay Wild Folks,

A.C. Ridenour🍌

Enjoy!

On my way again, zooming at top-rate speeds beneath a stained glass skylight.

A drip of foggy condensation grows and shrinks from the window's frontward edge.

It was 9:15 when the Megabus picked me up from 10th and Penn; en route for New York City.

Tomorrow is my Birthday.
Today is my "last day as a 22 year old."

And for once, I actually have a decent idea where I'm headed.

“A sower went out to sow his seed. And as he sowed, some fell along the path and was trampled underfoot, and the birds of the air devoured it. And some fell on the rock, and as it grew up, it withered away, because it had no moisture. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up with it and choked it. And some fell into good soil and grew and yielded a hundredfold.” - Jesus

I guess I better learn some gardening skills.

But first, I have to pee, because that coffee runs right through me.

A.C. Ridenour

September 27th, 2018
New York, New York

Happy Birthday Aodhán!

You made it to 23, congrats kid!

"How does it feel?"

I try to answer that question on a daily basis. Much more often than "what do I think?"

Perhaps, seemingly less applicable while analyzing data at a finance firm, than while planting pineapples; feeling always brings a different perspective to the present moment. It's another tool in the toolbox.

Of course, I'll think, I think? I'm human - it's basically our only claim to fame.

I already think too much, so why not focus on the feeling? But how do I do that, really?

1. Take a deep breath. Better yet, take 10. Hopefully not of toxic air.

2. Listen. Let the sounds come to you, not the other way around.

3. And that should be it. No need to over complicate things.

By God I Love Coffee.

Thank you everybody for the Birthday wishes, it's nice to know the clan cares.

A.C. 🍌

In Hamilton Heights, people speak more Spanish than English, and the Spanish billboards take prominence over their English counterparts.

Yet when the deli salad boy hears an English tongue, he echoes back, "So you want a pound a' that?"

It's a bilingual haven sharp with statements unheard elsewhere:

"You wanna come down here con esa mierda y talk to tu mama así? En que piensas you are boy! No puedo believe this kid."

"Ay yay yay yay, son locos"

Manhatten is like an ethnic parfait, and public policy is the spoon; stirring up trendy economics with Rap Caviar.

I don't want to forget it: the sauces tasted; ego punches taken; words learned in conversation; dreams coming true beneath my nose; and of course, the really funny jokes.

A.C. 🍌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 29th, 2018
Sugar Hill

It's a slippery slope, this city; and the stakes are higher here.

But with all the competition, helpful acts still happen.

It was a helpful conversation, generously shared on mic while dripping nitro cold brew coffee through cheery smiles.

Thank you invisible Facebook cyborg for rearranging my life in a more exciting manner.

Could it have been more exciting without the digital nudge from Señor Zuck? Maybe.

But when all the stakes are higher, better to stay wired.

A.C. 🍌

“You keep your arm inside Charlie, inside, or I’m going to break it off next time.” said the burnished man, unlatching his scissor lock from my abdomen.
“You’re too freaking strong Rodrigo, I don’t stand a chance.” Sweat poured from my scalp, mixing with the puddles already pooling beneath our bodies.
“This is not true, man -- look at your big muscles. It is all in the position of my body, the position of my mind. Nothing else.”

We indulged in a few gasping breaths of sweaty air, shared a high-five-fist-bump, and started rolling again.

I began Jiu Jitsu last week, thinking it would keep me focused, and perhaps give me reason to not eat 19 cookies for breakfast every Sunday morning. Little did I know, I’d get my butt kicked by another mysterious force, with even more power.

At home, I showered, flipped on Adventure Time, and prepared a piping hot bowl of veggie chili with creamy guacamole. Like every good Millenial, I checked my phone for the 150th time that day, only this time was different. The glowing screen made me spit a glob of guac on my Grandma’s Persian rug.

“I need you to call me” said the message, displaying a profile picture of a 12 year old boy with a blonde Justin Bieber haircut and black sunglasses.
“I have your wallet”

Coming from a rando requesting this on Facebook, I naturally assumed it was a scam. But after searching my usual wallet storage locations, and finding them empty, I gave him a call.

The guy found my leatherbound life floating in a toilet.

“I don’t know if it counts for anything” he said, “but I’m a Pastor at the Church behind your Jiu Jitsu dojo. Your wallet’s drying out in my office.” We agreed on a time the next morning when I’d retrieve it.

As planned, we united outside his Chapel and conversed briefly. I tried giving a donation, but he wouldn’t accept it. Instead, inviting me to a service at his church that Sunday, and making the statement that, “I don’t believe in coincidence. Your wallet falling in the toilet could have been the best thing to ever happen to you”. His words were certainly heavy, but I don’t believe in coincidence either.

Not 5 minutes after that meeting, my best friend, a devout Christian, delivered a text message inviting me to join him for a service at his church on the North Side. I knew the church he was referring to. Well, from the outside at least. It sat on a hill in my old neighborhood, providing some pretty architecture on my walk to the bus stop.

This congregation partially consists of people participating in a rehab program. People recovering from opiate addiction, who somehow find themselves pulled in from the streets, and end up falling in love with God’s word, using it as a motivation to stop the drugs. Based in their charismatic engagement with the live band and gospel readings, I’d say the program is working.

Not entirely unfamiliar with the Christian concept, I let myself absorb their teachings openly. We listened to stories from the pastor’s days as an addict. About how he thought he was destined for life as a “ghetto rat” (as he put it), but through accepting God’s plan for his life, ascended the darkness and found Love. It was a powerful story, to say the least, and really hit home as I was personally battling an unhealthy dependence to cannabis.

Towards the end of the service I decided to meditate and started seeing closed-eyed visuals within moments. Visions of a glowing purple and blue ribbon falling from the sky and twisting itself around my head and body, accompanied with physical sensations I can only describe as being gently wrapped by a warm cloth.

As soon as the invisible ribbon reached my foot, the pastor called out, “If anyone feels extra connected to the Holy Spirit right now, I want them to come up to the Altar and receive a blessing.” I had no idea what he meant by a blessing, but certainly felt connected to something. It was organic, like I almost didn’t have another choice, and left the chair walking towards the front. With the band jamming, the entire church started cheering and clapping for me.

I was directed towards a large man, wearing a flat brim hat turned backwards that brandished the word, “AWAKEN”, in all caps.

He touched my shoulder and asked if there were any special prayers in my soul. Without thinking, I mentioned my aging Grandmother and her recent stroke. The man began calling upon the Holy Spirit, seeking a cleansing of her dementia and my anxiety from it. To say I was touched would be an understatement. My closed eyes began to swell, a physical pressure fell upon my body, and I wept. Wept uncontrollably, in front of the entire church, nearly falling to my knees, but was held up by 3 or 4 other people who now also had their hands on my shoulders.

Someone passed me a handful of tissues and the big man asked if I wanted to be instilled directly by the Holy Spirit. Again, this carried no previous significance to me, but I was already that deep into it, so, still balling my eyes out, I said “Sure”.

He promptly explained, almost hugging me, that he would begin speaking and it wouldn't necessarily make sense, but that if I felt inclined by something inside me, I could share my own articulation. Over the pounding drums I heard his voice: Commence speaking in tongues , and I eventually felt an urge to open my own mouth. In a trance-like rush, I responded, void of self jurisdiction ** my own articulation of the tongues **.

As if in a dream, I was visually transported to the outside of the church, walking along the street by my old house, looking at the steeple and re-experiencing my consciousness I possessed as a child. It was an impossible clarity of mind, like I could feel what was meant for my life, all through a lens where I’d never been influenced by any drugs -- not even coffee.

Clutching that lingering feeling of possibility, I opened my eyes, present again -- looking at the big man.

My mind clambered with words, like a cosmic black belt Jiu Jitsu master had me clamped in a spiritual scissor-lock around my consciousness, but was finally relieved when I “tapped out”, so to speak. Allowing myself a few deep breaths, I remembered one thing -- I am strong -- and sincerely thanked whatever touched me that night. Amen.

" It’s a community thing. Everyone’s working to help each other grow,
it’s not competition. We call it co-opetition. Everyone’s working to
help each other become better, not better than each other, but better
than the old version they used to be." - Chris McIntyre

Take a gander at a random Grandmother’s prescription medicine shelf, and a common sight meets the eyes. Pillars of white and orange plastic tubes line medicine cabinets across the United States, stuffed to the brim of their “child-proof” lids with potent prescription drugs. In some cases, the drugs are extremely addictive antidepressants or life threatening opiates.

Imagine a world where these drugs were a second option for people experiencing the most common symptoms of aging, not their only option. Chris McIntyre and his team at St. Margaret’s Holistic Remedies based in Denver, Colorado not only think this is possible, but that their products are potentially more effective than prescription drugs - and a whole lot safer too.

His company produces High Quality CBD from Industrial Hemp in a variety of consumption methods. Put most simply, CBD is the non-psychoactive component found in Cannabis, or Hemp, and can be consumed without smoking the plant.

HEMP IS FEDERALLY LEGAL IN ALL 50 STATES (H.R. 1866 and Sec 7606 of the Agricultural Act of 2014)

Chris, and his team at St. Margaret’s Holistic Remedies, occupied a hemp-focused tent at the Arise Music Festival in Loveland, Colorado, and provided free samples of CBD concentrate to anyone interested. I took a few hits of their Banana Kush: Altitude Extracts strain, and felt more relaxed within minutes. The effects are subtle, but powerful, making me think my own Grandma might be open to trying CBD. Instead of relying on her prescription medications, she could potentially take some CBD and feel better without all the negative side effects.

The notion became a question: How can I convince my Grandma that CBD is a legitimate medicine?

Chris was kind enough to sit down with me to answer this question, and talk about his personal relationship with CBD, how the CBD industry has grown, and where it is headed.

At St. Margaret’s, their mission isn’t only making money. Listen to this recording about why Chris originally began taking CBD, and where he has seen it provide benefit to other people - including his own mother.

Search “CBD products” on Google, and a wide array of producers appear, making it difficult to choose a trusted source. The CBD industry is obviously exploding in states where its production is legal, and I wondered how a company like St. Margaret’s Holistic Remedies is different from all the other start-ups.

In this clip, Chris explains his experience in the CBD industry and how his company got started in such fast-paced times.

(8:15) CBD is legal to sell in over 24 countries

In states like Colorado, residents can attain a license from the department of agriculture and grow hemp in their backyard. The process includes paying a few hundred dollars and an inspection of the intended growing property, but growing your own medicine is totally possible.

This degree of accessibility might seem revolutionary from a legal standpoint, but most people probably don’t know that the United States government once fined people for NOT growing hemp. In 1942 the Federal government funded a campaign called Hemp for Victory, encouraging farmers to grow as much hemp as possible in order to produce stronger textiles during World War II.

After his own experiences and years working in the Hemp Industry, Chris is well aware of CBD’s historic legal evolution. In this clip, he breaks down the common misconceptions associated with Hemp and what people should know about its current legal status.

As the industry grows, and more and more people understand its potential benefits, new forms of processed CBD will become available. Yes, it can be smoked as a flower like marijuana or tobacco, but there are also a wide variety of less invasive consumption methods.

I asked Chris what form of consumption would be best for my Grandma who has never smoked anything her whole life. The available options might surprise you.

Looking at CBD and its seemingly unbelievable applications, one might assume the industry is reaching a peak in production possibilities, but Chris would say otherwise.

In fact, he lit up with a huge smile when I asked him which 3 parts of the industry’s future he is most excited about. He’s confident that we’ll see CBD branching into new sectors at an increasing rate, as more people accept it as a legitimate form of medication.

Whether you’re a parent of a child with epilepsy, a Grandma tired of popping daily opiates, or an athlete looking for soreness relief, check out this clip of Chris explaining how CBD could help you in the future.

In this clip, Chris talks about which 3 parts of the hemp industry he is most excited about in the future.

• Children having safe access to CBD that doesn’t get them high
• Elderly to replace or supplement their prescription medications
• Acceptance across the board for CBD. "We need people who are willing to risk things"
  • Chris talks about how aspartame was invented and how it is different than CBD

“If it weren’t for the people given the freedom to experiment we would
not be able to move as quickly or efficiently as we are right now.”- Chris McIntyre

Of course, Thank you Chris and his team at St. Margaret’s Holistic Remedies for answering a few questions that might help me convince my grandmother that CBD isn’t really the Devil’s Lettuce.

You can find out more about St. Margaret’s at their website smhremedies.com or link up with them on all the major social media outlets.

To hear Parker on the mic, check out Parker Webb Raps on Soundcloud

2:35 Parker describes the ambiance in a recording studio and how it differs when the producer has a different style than someone else you worked with before.

5:35 Parker talks about the flow state and the first time he remembers freestyling in Middle School when he won a rap battle and the whole grade was cheering.

7:05 Chuck lays a beatbox beat and Parker performs a freestyle rap about the Super Moon and purifying the soul - all on the spot.

8:15 “There’s a lot of magic that happens when there’s somebody else there.” - Parker Webb

How the flow changes when the environment changes.

9:20 How your brain can be like a computer and what programs you download have an affect on what comes out while in the flow state.

10:45 Does Parker want to get big? What comes with fame; The pros and the cons

13:20 Does Parker listen to Mac Miller? What made him such a real M.C.? R.I.P. Mac Miller

14:05 What Parker allows himself to be influenced by and what he thinks about when allowing inputs into his brain.

15:35 Elemental Purification
Breaking the Death Habit, Leanord Orre

16:25 What habits help promote the flow state.

• Conscious breathing
• Water healing by bathing in pure water
• Sitting around a fire
• Earth purification: eating healthy foods

18:20 Parker’s Go-to-guiding principle
“Refine your vision and make decisions off of that”

21:05 "You’re not fully alive until you’ve touched the extremes"

!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&(!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()

"... and I finally popped out. My arms and legs were completely
covered in scratches, I don't know how I didn't contract some sort of
Peruvian Poisonous Ivy. But I made it out without any dog bites. I
just got out to the road and stuck the thumb up and waited till a van
drove by." - Bobby Wasileski

0:00 - 2:15 Intro by A.C.

3:10 - 4:30 Learn how Bobby heard about the Study Abroad options and why he ended up choosing Peru in the first place. He found out that Penn State offered a program that was tailored specifically to his major; Energy Business and Finance.

5:15 - 5:17

"Lago Titikaka" - Bobby Wasileski

5:35 - 5:50 Bobby Describes the "Gringo Trail" and why it is so popular. He traveled as a nomad backpacker for 3.5 weeks in South Eastern Peru before beginning class in March.

5:55 - 7:05 Bobby describes his living situation while studying in Peru. He was the only American student at the entire university (ESAN University) and one of 3-4 Caucasians in his neighborhood where he lived with a native Peruvian family.

10:10 - 11:00 How much did it cost? Bobby spent $200 less for rent than he was at Penn State. It is considerably cheaper for almost all expenses. Except the tuition, which was the same as Penn State.

11:10 - 11:45 What was Bobby's housing situation? He lived with a family in an Apartment; they had a maid who cooked lunch and did their laundry. "It was nice getting pampered in that way"

12:15 - 12:30 The classes were smaller than they are at Penn State. Usually there were no more than 15-20 students per class.

14:30 - 15:15 Bobby talks about how much freedom you get to explore as a student, and shares some possible excursion ideas outside of the city. $20 max will get you pretty much anywhere in the country by bus, and they are always running.

15:30 - 17:30 Bobby shares a story about a time he felt unsafe while on a backpacking excursion. It is really hilarious, and told well - definitely worth a listen.

"... and I finally popped out. My arms and legs were completely
covered in scratches, I don't know how I didn't contract some sort of
Peruvian Poisonous Ivy. But I made it out without any dog bites. I
just got out to the road and stuck the thumb up and waited till a van
drove by."

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, and stay wild folks!

A.C. Ridenour

Together, they translate a variety of theories about our Universe and communicate different meanings depending on which perspective you choose.

In this episode, A.C. Ridenour shares a freestyle explanation of the three animals from two different perspectives, and gets a little bit heated near the end while talking about where people generally get their information.

The second portion of this episode is an example of a practice A.C. calls "word-breaking". Word-breaking is the process of considering a different meaning for a word; usually this is done by separating the roots and making connections, or translating portions into different languages, just for the hell of it.

In example: Dichotomy, Diabolical, Divided, Diablo.

All of these words start with "Di" which means "separated". Except, we don't think of "Diabolical" as meaning separated. We think it means "evil". "Diablo" is the Spanish word for "Devil".

Considering those connections, is it possible that Jesus meant to say anything separate from God was evil?

For a more thorough explanation of this, check out the essay in the show notes at https://thenomadtheory.simplecast.fm/70c739b2

So yes, it is a rant. And it gets a bit religious. But that is what came out at the time, so A.C. had to go with it - In the name of Intuition.

Thanks for listening to THE NOMAD THEORY, stay wild folks!

!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&*()

SAMPLE FROM: Diaries of a Dirty Gringo by A.C. Ridenour

"A satellite village exists—not 45 minutes outside Cusco,Peru—called Pisac. Shuttles run all day, everyday, and depart from a particular street located twenty walking minutes outside Cusco’s central plaza. Seats are shared by native Quechua speaking mamitas with rainbow sacks of wild herbs, and gap-year German engineering students alike.

An hour of walking around Pisac and one easily forms a book-cover judgement. The town’s main infrastructure measures only two square kilometers and can be traversed on foot within 20 minutes. Beyond the city limits, stretches of healthy farm land run in all directions like splatters of green of green and brown paint at the bottom of a bowl. Where crops and ranch homes end, a wall of rock and dry Evergreen forest begins, and doesn’t stop in it’s gradual escalation until a cloudless sky consumes the sometimes jagged peak. They call this region the Sacred Valley. Besides Pisac, the Valley also encapsulates ten neighboring towns, each one unique and independent of the others geographically. A single river fed from . Despite providing one of the smaller layouts, Pisac receives the most visitors of all the villages due to its prominent location as the first stop for people traveling from Cusco.

Pisac and its concentration of expatriate esoteric types could be described as a wholistic whirlpool. Concrete facades outside vegan restaurants and “shaman shops” featured floor-to-ceiling murals that resemble those purple shirts with a silver wolf howling into the cosmos. We all know those shirts. Only these paintings usually contained a different trifecta of animals: The snake, the puma, and the condor. The three symbolic creatures appear in every region of Peru, even on the interior walls of State Banks or molded into iron statues outside Christian churches.

I heard a variety of explanations regarding the significance of this ubiquitous trinity. Perhaps most obvious to a Western thinker, the snake could represent the underworld, or Hell, while the Puma and Condor align with Earth and Heaven respectively. From this more commonly Christian perspective, the snake would therefore be considered a bad omen. Personally, I wouldn’t want to get tangled up with any of the creatures in question, but are snakes really that much worse than pumas?

Instead of the snake representing Hell, Peruvian spiritual theology would suggest the snake is a symbol for the microcosmos, or the ever present interactions between the submicroscopic aspects of our universe; like what we call electrons, protons, and neutrons. Not to distract from the point, but the word “atom” means “cannot be divided”, yet humans proceed in dividing them into increasingly subatomic scales all the time. We have an obsession with separation that, I would guess, will not end until every human takes magic mushrooms at the exact same time.

Anyways, if the idea of Hell not existing hasn’t yet broken your dogmatic spine, calm down a minute, and think of the puma as the physical reality we perceive most immediately as humans. Some call it the mesocosmos. It’s the banana you ate for breakfast. It’s the turd you left this morning. It’s the sex you have when conceiving a beautiful child. Whatever happens on Earth, stays on Earth, and all of it can be wrapped up in an amateur painting of a mundane wild cat.

Finally, the condor, normally depicted with its record breaking wings spread above the puma, symbolizes the macrocosmos. Yes, some aspects of what can be considered the macrocosmos are perceivable by the human eye. But any 5th grade student who watched Neil Degrassi Tyson on Cosmos during science class could explain that a vast majority of our physical Universe exists beyond fathomable size. Stars, nebulas, asteroids 1000 times the size of Earth, black holes, and essentially any other phenomena imaginable are all currently existing on a macrocosmic scale. Each level of cosmic scale exists at the same time. Each level of the cosmic scale exists within itself. The levels, and their respective animals, all exist as part of one thing. We call that “one thing” the universe. To illustrate this ironically unfathomability even further, I like to think of each layer as a concentration of variably sized spheres.

After hearing this explanation and considering it over a cup of coffee, Peru proposes it again and again. The people themselves find it unnervingly entertaining to explain, especially in Pisac. It’s like they feel an ecological purpose to share their idea with the world, with subconscious hopes of rattling the diabolical cage that is traditional Christianity. Around 1532 A.D., the Spanish began violently obliterating the Inca Empire in search of gold and other riches. With the onslaught of murder, rape, and slavery also came a widespread conversion from the Ancient Andean spirituality to the Spanish version Christianity at that time. God only knows what route their translation of the Bible’s original Aramaic took on its way to becoming a Spanish Bible - pardon me, “una Biblia en Español”. I might add that the word for “library” in Spanish is “biblioteqa”, which literally translates to “place for books”. Now, following an obvious course of deduction and common sense, the word “Bible” in English must have originated from the Latin word for “book”. So, “the Bible” means nothing more than “the book”, when broken down using its principle significances.

Please note before reading on that we humans are meaning creators; meaning that the meaning I’m trying to translate by typing the series of symbols you are now reading, are all creations of the human mind. Does meaning exist beyond the human mind? If all humans were gone, would “the Bible” mean anything at all? To say the Bible is the Truth, and the whole Truth, is, I’m sorry to say, utter insanity.

I used a word earlier in this explanation: Diabolical. Commonly, the word is defined as evil or associated with the Devil. Even in Spanish, the word for “Devil” itself translates to “Diablo”, which shares its first four letters with the word in question: Diabolical. Another generally accepted “Di…” word , “Dichotomy”, means “a division between two things.” All of these words share the same basic meaning, and are inherently important when considering any theory about the existence of our apparent Universe. I will explain why in a moment, but first, consider this.

On Earth, as humans, we will die. People familiar with the Bible are generally familiar with the eventual goal of Christianity; to get into Heaven and find Unity with God. To do so, a human must, as is most commonly understood today, accept Jesus Christ as his or her or their savior. I constantly ask myself what this means. If God is ONE and ONLY it doesn’t make sense to claim humans, bananas, atoms, or suns are seperate. It doesn’t make sense to say we are divided. Yet, it appears as so from our little human eyes. Believe it or not, there are alternative explanations for our place in the Universe besides what a Christian Pastor would preach about, just as the Peruvians have their alternative explanation for the snake, puma, and condor.

Jesus could have been trying to explain the word Diabolical in the same way I am now. Translating experiential truth into intellectually bite sized chunks was probably his biggest priority. I can only imagine his knowledge and personal experience was just as burdensome as it was liberating. The theory I am proposing here is pretty simple;

What Christians consider to be the Word of God might have gotten mixed up over the years

Just 400 years ago, when King James hired 54 white dudes to translate the preceding Bible into “The New King James Version” a word as simple as “awful” carried a significance totally different from what we think of now. Awful used to mean “worthy of awe,” which meant people commonly made statements like “the awful majesty of God.” If the meaning of a word like “awful” could develop in such a skewed manner over 400 years, it’s arguably very silly to assume a fuzzy word like “diabolical” didn’t get at least a little distorted since Jesus Christ walked the Earth. Let alone the fact that English, nor Spanish, ni Latin even existed when Jesus taught about God!

Therefore, translating these terms from Traditional Christianity into another theology is difficult at first. In this case, very difficult because the new theology doesn’t have a name. It is your personal theology. By rearranging your personal understanding of the meaning of a few words, you could completely unravel your entire belief system. The process can be painful. Especially when all of your friends go to the same church as you and they may not even invite you out for iHOP anymore if they find out you have been fooling around with significance. With that precursor of thought in mind, take caution when considering the following statement: The words in the Bible could have meant something totally different to Jesus than they do to you.

As an example, entertain the idea that when Jesus, or any of the scribes, or prophets talked about the Devil, they could have been using a translated form of the word diabolical. If they were, then they might have really been talking about “a division between two things”. Those two things being ourselves and God. To reach Heaven and come into Unity with God, these terms propose that we must accept that we are not separate from God.

I still haven't decided what I will publicly call myself and it's been the biggest obstacle keeping me from shipping to anyone besides my grandma.

Thanks for listening, and stay wild!

!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()!@#$%^&()

Here we go.

1. My birth name is Aodhán Charles Ridenour.

I love this name. I resonate with it and think it is unique and beautiful. I like introducing myself as Aodhán in person.

It is pronounced like "Aidan" or "Aiden", which you might have seen elsewhere.

The problem is that nobody can pronounce it from written text. They always say "Oden" or "Ay-oad-han".

Needless to say, this is confusing in an internet to real life translation. With podcasting and blogging we rely on presenting a combination of text and audio and eventually video, so I want the probably translation to make sense.

My thoughts have been that the written form of "Aodhán" is too confusing and my name would be passed between listeners and readers with an incorrect pronunciation.

2) While traveling in 2017, I had a variety of nicknames; Chuck, Charlie, Chuck-o-late, Chuckroona, and Charles.

I never went by "Aodhán" for almost a year.

Which is why I thought Chuck was a good name for the podcast. It is easy to pass along and I liked saying it on mic.

3) The last name "Wilde" came from this quote by Oscar Wilde;

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a
mask, and he will tell you the truth."

Was Oscar Wilde's real name Oscar Wilde?

I thought Chuck Wilde sounded cool and it rhymed with Buck Wild, which is hilarious.

While hilarious, it does make me seem less "professional".

But then again, Snoop Dogg's real name is Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr. and people take him very "professionally". I doubt he would have made it in Compton as Calvin.

4. And the newest option, the one I am most in favor of right now. I would steal some swag from J.K. Rowling and call myself "A.C. Ridenour"

My primary love and art form is writing. In particular, a travel novel that I am working on right now and hope to one day release on THE NOMAD THEORY podcast.

A.C. Ridenour seems to fit a narrow balance between weird, but not so weird that people can't pronounce it.

5. Oh, and another bit of confusion. I've already released 7 episodes of THE NOMAD THEORY under the pseudonym "Chuck Wilde" Here's the latest episode ...https://simplecast.com/s/788247b8

Not that I have a bunch of people who know me as Chuck Wilde, but it's something.

So, yes. I'm making myself insane over this. And I know it will all be fine in the long term. But for now, I really just want to decide on something I feel confident sharing.

Which name do you like best and why?

Sorry for this dissertation of a post, but I am really happy to finally be active in this group and I look forward to creating awesome stuff with you guys over the years.

Feel free to send me an email at thenomadtheory@gmail.com

Stay wild folks,

?????????????????????🍌

I sat shaking maniacally in my living room submerged in a distinct feeling that I no longer belonged in this society or country. It seemed tragic at the time, but I bailed on all the homies who were set on drinking themselves into a stupor and sided for sitting around with a cup of coffee and notepad.
“New Year’s Eve? What’s the big deal eh? It’ll just be a bunch of drunken goons blowing this week’s coin cause they feel like they have to” I said to myself. “I’d rather chill out and get down on my priorities. Yeah that’ll be good, start things off right. Goals, habits, health - the usual jazz.”
Just as the caffeine dosage hit optimal sipping temperature, my phone lit up and displayed a slightly more uncertain path. An old friend sent over this invite to a notably abnormal Facebook event called Gathering of The Tribe with a message attached saying “Here’s a great thing you might be in to”. This person had a general track record decent judgement, so I momentarily abandoned my pathological neurosis and entertained the idea.
“Drumming, Dancing, EDM, Magical Peeps, Gifting, Fire Art, Healing, etc…” it said on the detail section.
“Well dagum doogy! I like all those things!” I shouted, “But who are these people? Is it cool if I just show up at their apparently new house? They don’t even know me.” Similar discouraging questions rattled around, but with the aid of my toasty mocha flavored stimulant, some buried desire fought its way through doubt and pulled my ass off the couch.

“I’ll just bring some Kimchi and everything will be chill”

I hopped in the truck and took off racing with my flute, jar of Chi, and a super amped attitude. Hats off to coffee and all the good folks who gave their precious moments transforming it into drinkable form, from the dirty bean-boys in Columbia to the white collar shipping execs in California - couldn’t do it without ya’ll.

As the mystery host proclaimed, I-79 was in excellent condition and I rolled along listening to classic Top-40 hits through the ages on 94.5 3WS.

“Oh, no, not I, I will survive!”
Oh as long as I know how to love, I know I'm still alive
I've got my life to live, and I've got all my love to give
And I'll survive, I, I , I will survive!”

The brand new crib came into view revealing its unique woodland architecture and warmly lit interior ambiance. I took a few faithful deep breaths under the stars before strolling up with a smile and peered through the window. Someone motioned to the back entrance so I wandered around and let myself in. There weren’t any suspicious comments such as “Who do you know here” like I remember from my Frat Boy days, but rather an amiable wave of hugs and smiles.

Speakers slapped a variety of 60’s rock to harmonize with the steady hum of laughter. Silky purple pillows and glowing balloons laid piled in the corners. Wafting tickles of zesty scents floated delicately around my nostrils. And people, lots of jolly, tangy people standing, sitting, and sliding about. The house’s walls and glossy wooden floor encapsulated the scene like a womb that would birth us into the new year with howling exuberance. It’s rare, and normally less than genuine to say, but I immediately felt welcome.

Within minutes, friendly wavelengths were exchanged and conversation ran further behind the typically gated depths of community than I’ve experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. It was like holiday party small talk became unnecessary due to some unspoken understanding that everyone there could be trusted. We jumped around meditating on topics such as modern day homesteading, articulating craft through feeling, cryptocurrency, elevated visual perception, diet dialing, western shamanism, and the apparent call to personal spiritual truth. I spent most of my time listening and tossing questions with a goofy smile.

“So you think we’re actually standing here talking to each other, or is it really just some grand perceptual illusion?”
“Good question. Well, if you consider the immense portion of empty space between the particles we perceive as physicality, and that there’s a large possibility of them shifting at any moment forming something completely different than what our bodies are experiencing right now. I suppose we are doing it. We are both standing here choosing to perceive ourselves talking. Ha, cool. Thanks for choosing this form of reality with me!”
“Fosho, anytime. Hey, I don’t even know your name, but do you want a hug?”

People brought their favorite vegan or veggie dishes which accumulated around the host mother’s spectacular production of sweet spuds, spicy zpacho, and savory squash soup. Party food usually hits my stomach with a thud and stays sloshing uncomfortably for hours, but this scrumptious selection of sustenance actually gave me more energy. We drank hyper-clean healthy water™ and downed Kombucha until my eyes wouldn’t close anymore.

All of these festivities happened before the clock even struck midnight. With about 40 minutes to go, the group congregated, cross legged, in a large circle in the living room looking each other in the faces. Our bearded ceremony leader got things started by succinctly sharing his intention for 2018 and passed along the torch until everyone got out all their year end jiggles. A theme of betterment reverberated through our remarks and were always answered with a resounding A’HO, which means, “I hear you” or “I feel ya bro!”, as I understand it.

My intention:

“Have gratitude for 2017 and all it’s waves of uncertainty, surfing them into the new year on a board made of whatever wisdoms I picked up from it’s many failures and successes. Also, on a macro-level, be a Wild Child (A human perceiving the “wild” aspects of nature like he/she/they were a 5 year old, while still maintaining all his/her/their experiential wisdom.) And to work at developing my voice through writing on a micro-level .”

The sharing session carried smoothly into a guided meditation, where a trained shaman initiate, aided us in visualizing a beam of energy flowing through our “Cuzco” or spiritual portal, down to the core of Earth, and back out towards the very edge of our physical universe. I’m really glad there are people living around Pittsburgh who won’t condemn you as a crackpot hippy goon for speaking in such terms.

Finally, as time tick’d and tock’d away towards its annual termination, everyone got up and rowdy. We snagged drums and the aforementioned ceremony homie started chanting, which strapped us onto a rocket that would launch The Tribe into 2018. “Vrooomhashasana, Vroomhashasana, Vroomhashasana!” My senses and emotions were reaching peak capacity and I thought they might actually explode, leaving me incapable of frowning for the entire year if there was even a single second more to wait. But sure enough, our voices commenced in shouting the most simultaneous and recognizable series of numbers in history.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”
“Yeeeeeeehhhooooooaaaayyyyaaaaaaooooooo”

The intense drumming and hollering could be heard from across the pond, and didn’t settle for another 30 minutes or so. People slipped around dancing and singing to the tribal beats in whatever form they felt right. It was really just a big swarm of people feelin’ alright. I met and connected in a manner beyond simple acknowledgement with so many people over the next 7 hours that it almost feels like a dream. Indeed, we kept it kick’in -- ‘till the break of dawn. It was like a spiritual stimulant that could rival that of coffee, buzzing in our brains. But don’t get me wrong, I still like coffee.

I am extremely thankful to the hosts and grand variety of stellar souls who decided to get off the couch that night. This country is probably still screwed ;), but I might be able to get up on a new society, if all of you are part of it.

Peace out,
Chuck

Michael is a farmer, forager, and awesome party host who left college to volunteer and travel through India, eventually receiving his Yoga Teacher certification. In this episode you will hear how Micheal did all those things and what habits help him maintain a healthy lifestyle on a daily basis.

Michael shares some of his favorite practices and principles for navigating confusing periods of spiritual growth such as simple meditation techniques that you can do any time of day, eating habits and supplements that have healing properties, and experiential advice for psychedelic newcomers to veteran psychonauts, alike.

He tells some real-life stories about his travels throughout India and the United States, plus some hilarious "figuring it out after high school" stories. The shirtless conversation went smoothly and Michael shared a ton of actionable info that Nomad Theory fans will love.

Thanks a million to Michael for being on the show and all of ya'll for listening!

Stay Wild Folks!

“With the energy that everything has, it carries a story with it. The vegetables we eat - if they’re treated disrespectfully, I don’t believe we’re going to get the amount of energy that could be cultivated in that.” - Michael Wilson

To hear more episodes of THE NOMAD THEORY podcast or find out about the principles of a guilt-free gap year check out the Nomad Theory blog HERE. Author Chuck Wilde writes articles about the liberation of the institutionalized mind and shares alternative paths of learning after high school.

As my friend Tony Books would say, “out of necessity comes invention”. And what better way to move forward than keeping the best from the past? 8 years ago, Tony began selling books under a pavillion in the center plaza of Ricon, the Caribbean’s surfing capital on Puerto Rico’s Western coast. His one man operation has since grown into a weekly spectacle of Artisinal expression, with artists from all over the island displaying and selling their hand made crafts.

He shares the Rincon Art Walk origination story with a constant smile.

https://www.tripadvisor.es/Attraction_Review-g264369-d9876830-Reviews-Rincon_Art_Walk-Rincon_Puerto_Rico.html

Local craftspeople and culinary pioneers line the small town’s central plaza, drawing hundreds of people, from all over the world every week. Surprisingly, almost everyone spoke perfect English, creating an approachable mixture of thoughts and products, for any visitor.

Vanessa Rodriguez, aka Hot Rod, a Puerto Rican Native who left her homeland to live in NYC where she hosted a radio show on WFMU for 10 years, returned after the hurricane to do her part in the island’s recuperation. She describes Rincon’s inviting nature, providing a few theories to explain why people are drawn to the village.

https://wfmu.org/playlists/HR

One Artist, Carlos Brignoni of Agua Viva Mas found his inspiration to create hand finished cutting boards out of materials left over after Maria’s brutal winds thrashed the region’s tree scape. Again, the theme of necessity and invention rings throughout his company’s history.

Beyond the art, an array of foody producers stack fresh chocolate chip banana breads beside mobile grills cheffing face-sized burritos that would put Chipotle to shame. Rolland from Get baked Rincon talks about why he moved to Rincon and how the Art Market has changed since Maria struck almost a year ago.

Rolland Sanchez https://www.facebook.com/BakedinRincon/

The spanish word Rincon translates to “region” in English, but it very well could mean Resilience. As any visitor to the Rincon Arts festival can see, the island natives haven’t lost their community spirit. If anything, the bond has grown since Maria. The energy of Puerto Rico reverberates through its people - A people who meet necessity not with sorrow, but with invention.

Make an email out to Chuck at thenomadtheory@gmail.com with any questions. Thank You for listening

Also, thank you to the drummers from the Rincon Arts festival and Juanitos for their song Cool Reggae Party.

Modern Music Festivals embody this growing, yet familiar cultural phenomenon. Consider this: Whether you attend a music festival to see a favorite band in the flesh, enjoy original and unique foods, or gain knowledge from experienced speakers, one key social component always touches your experience - community. The unification of communication, and all that comes when we open our minds to alternative perspectives. Just as music genres vary, so do festival themes and missions. Certain festivals, such as Arise, in Loveland, Colorado go beyond music, and create interactive environments that promote spiritual growth through artistic expression in all forms.

Of course, stellar musical sets from Slightly Stoopid, Thievery Corporation, and Quicksotica provided the main draw, but Arise Productions also gathered a large variety of talented speakers. In most cases, the speakers were spiritual healers or entrepreneurs representing experience in topics ranging from Musical Storytelling, to CBD Holistic Remedies, to EcoPsychology and Communication Strategies.

Organized groups called, “villages” conducted workshops from dawn till dusk, welcoming any festival attendee with an open mind. I was lucky enough to share a conversation with Bright Hawk, a modern day bard who plays a metal pan drum while sharing eclectic stories, carrying lessons, rich for all generations!

To catch a drift of where she’s coming from, listen to this clip of Bright Hawk explaining how she would title herself.

Her confident, yet warm, style and smooth sense of humor struck me during a morning workshop titled “How to tell Stories”, and it became obvious she would be a great person to answer a nagging question I’ve had since high school; “How can someone speak confidently without sounding like a douche?”

In the U.S., a predominantly capitalist First World country, an excessively competitive attitude often leaks into conversations, usually making them unpleasant for the listener. The personality trait associated with this attitude is often referred to as “douchiness”.

A douche can exist in nearly any environment, especially while telling stories. Listen to Bright Hawk talk about the difference between storytelling in an academic setting v.s. with friends, at a party.

Of course, even after considering your audience, the competitive attitude doesn’t just go away. It lingers in the subconscious; spawned while playing backyard football games and comparing snacks at the middle school lunch table. The green shadow of jealousy feeds off this unnecessary comparison, especially when a new acquaintance can tell funnier, more relevant stories than you. There’s a reason both words share the latin root “comp”.

In this clip, Bright Hawk describes why this jealousy occurs and how you can avoid making other people feel jealous as your storytelling abilities develop.

This competitive attitude is so distracting that people often don’t hear themselves while talking, then, end up using filler words instead of speaking concisely and directly. One word in particular, I reckon, has grown more ubiquitous than any other in the English language, ever.

Like, here’s a hint. If you, like, walk down the street for, like, five minutes, you’ll, like, definitely here it, like, 100 times.

I asked Bright hawk, straight up, how overuse of the word “like” is debilitating to engaging conversation. Listen to her on the spot response in this clip.

People like Bright Hawk live for the connectivity and joy that comes from community events where people can practice expression in a safe environment accompanied by experienced guides. Music and Art Festivals like Arise provide this environment for people of all ages, genders, and backgrounds. Google, “music festivals in my state” to find one within range of your home. Once the schedule becomes available, check to see if any workshops will be held besides the musical acts.

To hear more about Bright Hawk and her current projects, check out BrightHawkProductions.com

Also, Thanks to Juanitos for their song Cool Reggae Party

Well, maybe not.

In 2015 I dropped out of college and began flipping houses.

After successfully flipping 2 properties with the help of my Dad, and reading 100 self help books, the start up bug bit me and I thought I was ready to jump into the world of entrepreneurship and become a millionaire!

So, a long time friend Bret and I did just that, minus the millionaire part- we started a residential contracting company. We owned all of our own tools, an LLC, paid taxes, tested out some expensive marketing strategies and worked like animals. We were stacking bills and living thrills.

Bret and I continued contracting as a legal entity for over a year and a half. It was a rewarding business, working with your hands to create something beautiful, and it paid better than any other job I could get as a 21 year old….

Until my millennial mind got restless.

I faced the usual, “Am I doing the right thing with my life?” questions that every privileged white person does. I Fell in Love, then had my heart broken. Made a lot of money, and lost a lot of money. You could call it a relatively rapid cycle of emotional change.

We were making good money, but I was also depressed, and more anxious than ever. I saw most of my high school peers living the “college experience” and chilling every weekend like student loans didn’t exist. While my friends followed the “college path”, I found myself nearly alone, wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt, endlessly searching for our next bathroom remodeling gig.

One day, my best friend, Rodney who was studying at the State University, asked if Bret and I wanted to join him for a 3 week backpacking trip through South America before he started studying abroad in Lima, Peru.mmm

It was late 2016 and the contracting market was heating up, so we had a hard choice; Stay in Pittsburgh, and keep making money to buy rental properties and earn eventual financial freedom? Or live on the edge and gear up for a once in a lifetime adventure?

It might go without saying, based on the title of this podcast, but we took the leap and bought our tickets.

Several months of hardcore planning and we developed a 3 week itinerary that could rival that of any Lonely Planet Guidebook. Our trifecta was packed and ready to jet. What could go wrong?

Good question. Most college sophomores think the “You only live once” thing is always a solid move. In hindsight, Rodney might say otherwise.

Just a month before our departure date, I went to visit Rodney at his University for a weekend of unlimited alcohol and awful rap music. Within 8 hours of arriving, his fellow students had entered a state of violent fervor after winning an important bowl game. For some illogical reason it’s now a tradition to destroy your own school’s campus if your home team wins?

In other words, a riot broke out, and thousands of belligerent students poured onto the chilly main street, throwing empty liquor bottles, pulling down lamp posts, jumping on cars, and breaking windows. The situation was exhilarating and, of course, conducive to poor decision making.

Rodney and I stood to upon a hill, watching the scene elaborate as over 100 armored riot officers marched towards the hoarded student body, brandishing batons and plastic shields. Behind them, a formation of mounted calvary officers directed their troops like napolitonic Lords.

To our right, an intoxicated frat boy shared the view. He turned to us, pointing a cracked red solo cup towards the crowded street below and said “You guys should go smack that horse’s ass!”

Now, to be a man of character, a man must have a character. In this situation, our only real character came from a simple maxim called L.O.T.E., which when spelled out means Live on the edge.

We looked at each other, shrugged, and started barreling down the hill towards an available horse arse and lifted our hands for a solid strike.

SMACK !

That single otomotopea would ring through my cerebral caverns every day for the next year and a half. I immediately ran back up the hill to safety, turning only quick enough to witness the same horse we just defiled, buck up and charge after a skinny white dude wearing a black columbia fleece.

NOOOOOOOOOO I yelled, What are you doing Rodney?!! He had taken off running DOWN the street and the officer zeroed in on his collar. Like a bad guy from spiderman, Rodney was lifted off the ground and dropped again into a swarming circle of shielded foot soldiers.

Rodney was done for. They took his ID, future plans, and right to leave the country, all with a pile of paperwork.

“What the heck are we gonna do now?” Bret and I asked ourselves. The tickets were bought, reservations were made, but we wouldn’t be traveling as a trifecta.

mmmmmmmmOver the following weeks before leaving, Bret started acting funny. We got into arguments about who should go get fresh paint, or where to get lunch. We knew each other almost 10 years, worked together at least 3 of them, and never got in a fight.

Was it the pre-trip jitters? Financial worries? language barriers? I don’t know, but once Bret and I arrived in Punta Arenas Chile, the arguments grew more severe, and lasted several hours at a time. We would scream at each other in the face, both claiming the other was wrong, too prideful to compromise.

Then, it happened. It was a perfect storm. An opportunity for me to turn the tables and give Bret a dose of his own medicine. We all know that choice, where we feel responsible to show the other person how they’ve been making you feel, because if they knew , they would stop doing it, right?

Wrong. My attempt to emotionally educate Bret backfired, sending him charging away in a fury. We shared a tent that night after getting split-up, but in the morning I found his side of the shelter empty. I never saw Bret again.
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God bless his soul, really. If it weren’t for our argument, Bret and I would have headed right back to the Contracting company after the 3 weeks and hopefully found some happiness owning rental properties.

Thankfully this didn’t happen. It quickly became obvious that the original 3 week schedule didn’t provide enough time to truly experience South America, so I canceled all my return flights.

Over the next 11 months, I discovered travel techniques that allowed me to spend more time in the coolest places, learn Spanish fluently, budget effectively, and meet amazing people without going broke in the process.

During several periods I lived for entire months on less than a dollar a day, and in one special circumstance, went 30 days without spending a single penny. By no means were all the experiences pleasant, but even in the moment, I knew the memories would be priceless.

Which is why I kept a daily journal detailing my thoughts, theories, and stories. On this podcast I’ll discuss some principles of THE NOMAD THEORY and interview people who embody the nomadic mindset.

Catch me every week for a new episode of THE NOMAD THEORY where I look for the best ways people can take a guilt-free gap year and learn something without going broke.

Stay wild folks!

If you missed it, check out the first episode on Spotify where I explain what THE NOMAD THEORY is.

Also, thank you to Juanitos for their song Raggae Party.

If you have any questions about this week’s episode, or THE NOMAD THEORY itself, send me a message at THE NOMAD THEORY@gmail.com and I’ll get back to you asap.

What’s crackin’ kids, I’m Chuck Wilde, and this is THE NOMAD THEORY.

Today, especially for us in The United states, essentially every option is available. So how does one take a step in any direction? Let alone the right decision.

We graduate from high school with an immense pressure coming from our peers, teachers, parents and well, everyone, to find our passion and be “successful”. Generally this is by means of an outrageously expensive college education, internships, and finding “a secure job” (I hope you heard the heavy air quotes) Infinite possibilities and visions of the future sit readily at our fingertips, literally, at our fingertips. It can often be more overwhelming than exciting.

It’s a paradox of value to feel optimistic and pessimistic about this, in that, we have vastly spanning options, but it’s harder to make a decision because of said options. Which is where I believe a majority of our anxiety comes from in The First World - That is, the desire to succeed, but only dimly understanding what success means to us.

A small percentage of people know exactly what they want to do from a young age, and that is fantastic, but this isn’t always the case as we can see by the millions of people, like me, who felt vocationally lost after highschool.

So how do we get out of this generational stuckness? My proposal is a guilt-free gap year.

Average price for tuition in the United States for one year at a University is over $24,000 with private school running upwards of $70,000 a year. Let’s just say you took the middle of the road and chose a school that costs $35,000 a year including all expenses. Believe it or not, that’s enough money to travel anywhere on planet earth and do virtually anything you want for an entire year, and then some.

Other countries, especially in Europe have this “gap year” idea but for whatever reason in the U.S. the trend is to jump right into the debt and commitment of a college education without taking some personal time to make sure we know why we’re going.

When Tim Ferriss, one of my heroes, asked Kevin Kelly, another one of my heroes and lead maverick at Wired Magazine, “What advice do you have for twenty somethings wondering what the heck they should do with their lives” He responded “give yourself some slack”

Sounds weird coming from Kevin Kelly, as this principle of “slack” is commonly seen as giving up or failing, but I don’t think of it that way, and nor do I look at moving on from something as giving up. You know in yourself when you’re “giving up” or “moving on”.

This distinction is a lot messier as a young person, but as the skills you pick up begin blending together, a “path” seems to present itself. As long as you show up, have guiding principles make decisions, and do something that was important to you at the time – valuable lessons are always learned.

“Be prolific”, Kelly goes on to say. But how can somebody be prolific while staying free from extended obligation? I believe the answer lies with projects and an untethered mindset. Projects with a beginning and end. This podcast, for me, is a perfect example of this project mentality. I’m learning some tech skills, making connections, and each episode has a beginning and end.

Try things out. Start the project knowing it’s ok to move on when you feel ready to move on.

THE NOMAD THEORY is that we can be prolific and give ourselves some slack at the same time.
THE NOMAD THEORY is that we can live a nomadic lifestyle and not go broke.
THE NOMAD THEORY is that people who take a guilt free gap year don’t regret it.

Like my Grandpap always says, “Do your best, learn all you can, and don’t worry about it.”

Subscribe to THE NOMAD THEORY on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you download podcasts and let me know what you think of the show at thenomadtheory@gmail.com.

Stay Wild Folks!

In 2017 I accidentally became a professional nomad after leaving my business, and traveled from Punta Arenas Chile way down by Antarctica to Lima Peru over 11 months.

Along the way, I discovered travel techniques that allowed me to and live on less than a dollar day, learn Spanish with the locals, and use stories as a kind of currency.

My goal is to show other young people like myself that taking a guilt-free gap year is possible without going broke, so I kept a daily journal detailing all my best tips and theories.

Catch me every week for a new episode of THE NOMAD THEORY, where I’ll share stories from the road and interview people who embody the Nomadic mindset.

Stay Wild Folks

But what is THE NOMAD THEORY exactly? Dive in by checkin out the first episode on Apple podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcast fix.

Also, Thank You to Juanitos for letting me use their awesome song Reggae Party.