The Soul of abk

One of the pitfalls of the outdoor lifestyle, especially as it gets warmer here in The Deep South, is the presence of potentially dangerous animals. The gators, for whatever reason, don’t really phase me. In fact, they fascinate me. But the snakes, oh, the snakes. Copperheads and cottonmouths, namely. They just blend right in.

A week ago Saturday, I was out on the course playing 18 at sunset. I played the back 9 first and then played holes 1, 2, and 3. As I drove from 3 green to 4 tee, something grabbed my attention. Just on the cart path, the end of a snake’s tail peeked out at me. Just off the cart path, the remainder of the rather thick, venomous snake blended right in.

I’m not a big fan of horsing around with snakes, but something inside of me told me I needed to handle the situation. The snake was nestled right around a bend, right where walkers might walk, camouflaged completely. I couldn’t take the chance that another person might encounter it. At a minimum, I needed to get this joker back into the woods just to my left. So I grabbed a log, some sticks, and some pine combs, but instead of me encouraging the snake to wiggle back into the woods, I just pissed it off. It started striking at me, so I had to punt and go to plan B.

I hopped in my cart, retracing my steps back to the clubhouse so that if any other players were nearby, I could warn them. Back at the clubhouse, I found a couple of guys who were informally trained aka not terrified of snakes, and they came and helped me out.

Long story short, the situation got handled, I finished my round, and I dreamed of snakes for the next three nights (only joking). And then, remarkably, this happened…

When I was 23 years old, I found myself looking for a furry companion who, how shall I say it, shared the same zest for life as me. After careful consideration, I got Becks, a newborn Jack Russell terrier, who ate zest for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (She also ate everyone else’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I digress.)

From the start, she was my spirit animal. She loved life, and she craved freedom. She also drove me nuts, but in a I wouldn’t have it any other way kind of way. She didn’t listen to a damn thing. From Day 1, she was on her own mission, a mission that was bred deep inside of her, and I quietly admired that.

She listened so little that we had to put an electric fence in the yard, but that didn’t matter to her. I keenly remember one day (or a thousand days) where she bolted down the street, getting shocked the entire way. She’d be gone for 15 or 20 minutes, and then she’d return home, neck bright red, but happy as a clam.

For the past however many years, I’ve told people that when it’s her time, she will inevitably die at the hands of another animal, likely a snake, which makes this last bit all the more funny (don’t worry, she didn’t die).

Since the move to Mississippi, Becks has fought raccoons, armadillos, and God knows what. A couple of weeks ago, she fought, well, God knows what.

While we were in South Florida, she stayed at The Farm, where freedom reigns supreme. When we returned and she came home, she was the same old Becks, but with a big grapefruit on one side. I didn’t think anything of it. I never do with her. She’s lived nine lives plus some. But a couple of days later, the grapefruit burst, so Christy took her to the vet.

I wish I had been there when the vet examined her and said, She has been bit by something. Likely a non-venomous snake. Three times. But she’s fine. I can see it happening. The snake bites. Becks keeps at it. The snake bites. Becks keeps at it. The snake bites. Becks finally says screw this and walks away.

I called my parents. They started cracking up. I called my sister. She started howling. I’m giggling just thinking about it. Ol’ Becks. Nearly 16 years old. I’ve got her living to at least 20, easy. She’s just got that zest for life.

Have a great week.-Benj

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Two Walks to Remember

“There is no place on earth even remotely like New Orleans.”- the late Anthony Bourdain

This week’s piece has the chance to be the worst one I’ve ever written. Out of respect and privacy for the people involved (some quite high profile) along with the ever fluid Covid protocols, many details will remain only in my memory. But I’ll do my best to tell a good story.

Also, sometimes you just get lucky. Maybe my curiosity and desire to LIVE help a little, but truthfully, sometimes you just get lucky.

My job as a walking scorer at the PGA Tour’s Zurich Classic of New Orleans last week was to walk inside the ropes with my assigned players, providing real-time scoring that is disseminated all over the world. Also, if there was any weird situation that the players encountered out on the course, I was their lifeline to central command.

I had three must-do’s. Be accurate. Be timely. Be invisible. The first two? No problem. The last one? Easier said then done.

To try and blend in, I dressed in the mandatory uniform, but…

One of my professionals in Wednesday’s much more laid back Pro-Am grew up roughly an hour away from where I did. This, combined with him being known as one of the friendliest players on tour, provided an easy opening for me to simply say hello. After he hit his opening tee shot, we found ourselves walking close to each other, so I took the opportunity to say hello and tell him where I was born and raised (shout out Wingate). I cannot print what he said back to me, but I can tell you that it made me laugh out loud. I can also tell you that it began a wonderful conversation that ended about six hours later. (Great job being invisible, Benj.)

He asked me why I left Charlotte, so I told him. We talked about people we both knew and some of our favorite restaurants. We talked Carolina Panthers. The whole group talked golf, soccer, and our kids.

Soon enough, the pranks started. Then came the jokes. The players and caddies were kind enough to let me in on all of it. Before the end of the day, I don’t think a magician could have made me invisible.

On Thursday’s first day of competition, it was the complete opposite. Different players. Different personalities. Everyone was cordial. Everyone was focused. I was invisible, which after Wednesday, I kind of liked. I was asked to do a job, so I did it.

Over the two days, I was able to be a fan for a couple of hours, roaming the course, the range, and the practice area taking it all in. I interacted closely with six professionals and six caddies. All of them were cordial, 70% were nice, and 40% were downright awesome!

Four of the players were ranked as one of the best 85 golfers on this planet, and therein lied my focus. As amazing and fun and lucky and whatever else was that I experienced, especially on Wednesday, I was there to learn. That’s why I threw my name in the hat. To watch and listen (and even ask a few questions) to decipher why each one was a Top 85 player on Planet Earth.

At the end of each round, I received kind words, fist bumps, a signed ball, or a signed glove (I did not request these). I got a crazy cool lifetime memory. But most important for me along my personal golf journey, I saw and heard what details were a given, really didn’t matter, and really freaking did. To the best players in the world.

It was like learning a new language in 48 hours.

Have a great week.-Benj

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abk Lifestyle: A Taste of the Deep South

Last Tuesday evening, the storm came out of nowhere. I was out on the course playing and helping another player, and we had been delayed earlier due to lightning, but something started to feel downright bizarre. All of a sudden, an intense four club wind began that didn’t stop until Thursday. 40+ mph here. 90+ mph off the coast, I read. Some how, some way, a line of violent electric storms that didn’t stop until Saturday night decided to appear.

In less than 24 hours, my parents were set to arrive from North Carolina, and they were ready to experience this unique outdoor lifestyle I had been busy designing from afar.

Well, there’s always next year.

When the golf outings and soccer games were inevitably cancelled, we did what you are supposed to do in the Deep South: eat. We ate and ate and ate. We visited. We chatted. My dad and I snuck in some wet chips and putts. My mom played Super Mario Bros., much to my delight. And then we ate some more.

Instead of trying to describe the meals, this week, I’ll simply show a few pictures and let your imagination and taste buds do the writing for me.

On the last night, everyone gathered for a big dinner out, and an interesting thing happened. When my father has a meal that is exceptionally good (both service and food), it has the same effect as some other person drinking a good bottle of wine. He subtly gets very happy, and the stories start flowing. (He was a college professor for decades, so he has some good ones.) That was really fun, and then we all said our goodbyes.

As we said goodbye, just for the hell of it, I glanced at next week’s weather forecast and just smirked. Perfect weather, as usual.

Life is absolutely hilarious.

Have a great week.-Benj

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abk Travel: That Trial and Error Lifestyle

Last week, I wrote about worlds. Throughout the past four years, I’ve written extensively about my travels, hidden gems along the way, and happy places. Places that just hit me a little differently deep down. Places that I will jump at to experience over and over. Places that provide a quite particular and personal experience.

How have I found these experiences? The only way that I know how…brochures! (Ha! Just kidding.) I just go. I go and find them. I go and feel the vibe personally. The exploration is half the battle.

Nestled just south of the mega mansions in America’s third wealthiest zip code is a half mile swath of land, if that, that is home to one of my new favorite places. Two of my new favorite places, to be precise: the small public beach run by the Town of Palm Beach, Florida, and the ridiculously beautiful Palm Beach Par 3 Golf Course, also owned by the town.

In the land of billionaires and private beaches, we enjoyed this little public nook, two hour free parking and all. Christy, Banks, and I hung out there on a sunny Thursday amidst a smattering of scantily clad women and men. (It is South Florida, baby!). It was just a vibe, really. Beautiful blue water. Boats zipping by. Not a care in the world.

But it was Saturday at the beach that really hit deep. Christy stayed home, as Banks and I braved the windy day. As we wandered out for a more adventurous boys day, the sea breeze had the waves crashing. I asked Banks if he was ready, and he asked ready for what? To ride your first wave, son. Shaking with excitement, he said he was ready. We tried, we failed. We tried, we failed. And then with me a mere feet away, a big one got him, and he somersaulted and twisted his way back to shore. Proud as can be and laughing uncontrollably, I shuffled to shore to congratulate him as he stood up. Unsure of what had just happened, he looked at me shocked. I gave him a high five, told him great job, and asked if he was okay. After a brief confused second, he started shaking with excitement again, ready for round two (and three and four).

I had driven past the golf course a couple of years ago, musing to myself that it looked quite beautiful. Fast forward to Thursday after the beach, and it was time for my maiden voyage. Sandwiched between the Atlantic Ocean and the Intercoastal Waterway, the course is prime property. Three holes play along the waterway, three holes play along the ocean, and the others have various views that might bring you to your knees. I was in love, straightaway. Two near holes in one, four birdies, and even par on my first 18 made it even better.

But there was time for more. 9 more until a ravishing sunset hit, and then another 27 Saturday night in already worn clothes and almost comical wind. Happy places could care less about details like that, so why should I?

I’d like to shout out Aunt Robin aka Rockin’ Robin (tweet, tweet) for hosting such a beautiful Spring Break 2021. There are so many great memories: local food, drink, Miami, the safari, etc.

What could have been better?

Well, I tried a golf course on Friday that was absolutely terrible, so that was a miss. (I did, however, play with a couple of cool dudes.) The restaurant, al Fresco, that was recommended by literally everyone I met was completely booked by the time I called, so that was a miss. And it would have been awesome to have the jet ski down there, zigging and zagging amongst the yachts and speedboats of the rich and famous, so that was a miss.

But the cool thing about happy places is that they have a way of inviting you back. To repeat those things that you love to do, and to correct those things that you might have missed.

Next month, I’m headed to West Texas to an area I know little to nothing about. (I’m still waiting on the brochure in the mail 🤦🏽‍♂️.). And I have a feeling, just a little gut feeling, that it’s going to hit hard too. The freedom of wide open spaces is an exploration invitation that I have a difficult time passing up.

Have a great week.-Benj

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A(bk) Seeker’s World: Where Anything is Possible

As much as I despise limiting categories, I am equally enamored with limitless worlds.

Where I am now, both externally and internally, literally and figuratively, is because I discovered or was introduced to worlds that I did not know previously existed. To a seeker like me, getting here is both just the beginning and also a massive success.

Ocean Springs, Mississippi? Never heard of it.

Jet skiing on random Wednesdays? Get out of here.

Friday nights in New Orleans? Stop it.

Shooting under par, even par, or just over par nearly every time out? Seriously, stop it.

Running two marathons with serious arthritis? No way!

Playing golf essentially 549 days straight? Impossible.

Not sleeping in my own bed for two years straight? Maniac!

Writing 196 articles about my ongoing seeking and unorthodox lifestyle? 👀

Golfing in Tijuana? Hitchhiking in Iceland? Highly unlikely.

Unlearning everything, then consciously, thoughtfully reconsidering everything.

Learning the importance of using my unique view on life to help others.

Learning how to be a father.

Learning the importance of feelings.

Learning how to re-center my life’s priorities daily, sometimes more.

Learning how to relax. (A little.)

Learning how to use discomfort and uncertainty for extreme personal growth and to build the lifestyle I didn’t know could actually exist.

Learning to be happy.

Learning courage, and how to combat fear.

Learning to live.

Every day, I see or hear someone (or lots of someones) who, it’s obvious, has never been thoroughly introduced to another world. (Contrastingly, I also interact with tons of people who introduce ME to their many interesting worlds!)

As someone who has been lucky enough to explore thousands of worlds, I am aware of the growth, potential, and open mindedness that each new world can unlock.

At abk, I am not trying to change anybody. No, no, no. Hell, I couldn’t if I tried. That’s on each individual person to own his or her life story. What I am trying to show (introduce) are the endless worlds, possibilities, and potential that actually exist out there, should we ever choose to stop placing limits on ourselves.

For me personally, this involves constant reinvention each time I get more clarity along my journey.

I remember running that first NYC Marathon lifetimes ago, thinking I was busting down some proverbial wall. A young man with ankylosing spondylitis pounding and pounding when he shouldn’t be. Doing something that he really shouldn’t be able to do. And then I saw the runner who couldn’t see, the participant with only one leg, the participant with no legs…

And that day, I was introduced to a new world. I remember saying to myself, When you think you are pushing your limits, Benj, you are not even close. You are just scratching the surface.

And now, four years on, it’s just my way of life.

Have a great week.-Benj

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abk Lifestyle: Spring has Sprung

“Every day is an opportunity for a fashion show.”-abk

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to live life in a certain way. I couldn’t articulate that until recently, but it has been burning inside of me for decades. I was always less concerned with the typical what, more concerned with the style with which the what was done. More concerned with the pure feeling of individual freedom, my Truth, and self-expression than, well, pretty much everything else.

At almost 39 years old, I’m as interested as ever in living a vibrant life. At all times, basically. That experience is managed individually and internally, but it can be lived and expressed in many different external ways. Sometimes that way is to talk, but if I have to actually talk, I want it to be something worth talking about. Otherwise, I’m going to use a language that doesn’t require speaking.

I always wondered why I would audibly say something when I could…wear a certain belt or pair of shorts, kick a ball a certain way, move my body in a certain manner, play a certain chord, or maneuver a little white ball exactly as intended… to say it for me?

I always suspected that many aspects of life could be fully experienced without uttering a single word.

Next week begins the next chapter (Q2 in my old banking life), a 2-3 month span of excitement that I hope introduces me to my next opportunity. At a bare minimum, it should be super vibrant.

First, a good buddy from out west comes to see what the Deep South is all about. Then, it’s down to South Florida for a little spring break family fun in the sun. Next, my recently vaccinated parents come down, eager to see if they are still taller than their behemoth 6-year old grandson. Then, it’s over to New Orleans to work at The PGA Tour’s Zurich Classic. I’m super excited to be inside the ropes with the players, watching their every move and learning everything that I can. In May, I plan to head to Far West Texas with a friend to camp and explore. And in June, a little bit of this and a little bit of that, hopefully ending with playing my first ever sanctioned (real) competitive golf tournament.

In the meantime, I work on the golf every day. 543 days now (my body hates me). It’s amazing how far I’ve come. It’s amazing how much work self-mastery requires.

During these next few months, anything but khakis®️ turns 4 and abk golf turns 2. 195 articles of talking. It’s all about creating. It’s all about passion. It’s all about pushing limits and getting better.

I use the word vibrant this week because I find it an accurate term to describe my journey’s activity, attitude, and mindset goal. As I heard Sadhguru describe this week, to live life intensely while being super relaxed. I’ve got the former dialed in. The latter, I’m getting better each day.

I’m sure the South Florida sun will help.

Have a great week.-Benj

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The Responsibility of abk (and Everyone)

“Man’s greatest burden is unfulfilled potential.”- Businessman Dan Peña

I basically live at the golf course. I love it, being outside for hours every day. I work, I help, I practice, I play, I explore nature with my son, I learn, I socialize, and I compete. I’m part tour guide, part travel agent, part therapist. Since I am there so much, I’m getting asked more and more if I give golf lessons. The corporate answer is no, I’m not certified to formally teach. But if you are asking for a little help or are just wanting to get better, then the answer is absolutely yes. Over 23 months and counting of daily grinding, I’ve learned a few things that I’d be happy to pass along.

I’m not a technical guy in golf or life. I don’t need a piece of paper or big title. I just see things. I see things you may not see or may not want to see, especially about yourself (annoying, I know). Sometimes I see things ten steps ahead. I know I’m going to get there, but I have a hard time articulating the how or why. (I’ve been working on that. The writing has helped immensely.)

As such, I cannot explain the golf swing, and I have very little interest in talking X’s and O’s. I feel things, and I like that. In the pitch black, I can hit a ball and tell you if it went straight, left, or right. I recently got new wedges, simply because my previous 58 degree wedge literally didn’t suit my eye. I can’t tell you exactly why. The grind, the bounce, the this, the that? I told the club fitter I would know it when I saw it and felt it.

Throughout my journey, I have learned that I have a beautiful gift: the ability to experience life through a unique lens. (As an outsider, this also applies to golf.). It used to make me feel so different, but more and more I have found opportunities to deploy that perspective to help others. It is actually one of my superpowers. We all have one.

When it comes to the game of golf, let me share some of my outsider observations. The physical aspect is super hard, but relatively straightforward. The mental/emotional aspect is even harder and more complex. And when it comes to regular Joe’s asking for help, three things get in the way: money, fear, and ego.

So when I am asked if I give lessons, I usually say this. I am not PGA certified. I am not the guy to give you advanced technical swing tips. But if you want to get better, to learn to think your way around the course, set your ego to the side, overcome your fears, weigh risk and reward, and play a little strategic offense (processed all in about 15 seconds), I might have a handful/lifetime of first person experiences that will help you.

How much for your time?

Don’t worry about it. abk is free. Actual effort is the only currency I’m concerned with.

A recent request saw me getting right to work, my matter-of-fact take on golf/life kicking in straightaway. On the par 5 16th hole, I dropped four balls at 240 yards out. Danger loomed long and right to a back, back pin. Short and left were safe. As my new friends looked on, I decided to play smart with my first shot. From a weird downhill lie, I tried to play too safe and I got lazy, the ball ending up only 125 yards down the fairway. For the second ball, shockingly, I did the exact same thing. Feeling their confidence in me waning, I torched the third ball, a 3 iron 240 yards to the bottom left side of the green, still a safe play leaving a little chip and a putt for birdie. Finally, I pulled my 3 wood, choked down, and faded the last ball right at the flag leaving about 25 feet for eagle.

I broke the silence with this. Sometimes the safe play backfires. Sometimes the safe play works out just as safely as expected. Sometimes the risky play is absolutely amazing. And sometimes you shit all over yourself. You just have to make a decision. Safe play. Risky play. Somewhere in between. The only no-no is indecision. That’ll keep you stuck in the 1800s, as I like to say.

Well, how do I know what the right decision is?

Try it a few (or a thousand) times, and then own it. It’s just a golf shot.

When I wrote that Charlotte Agenda article about style lifetimes ago, I remember reading a comment that said, Who is this guy? What are his credentials?

I then remember cringing to myself, thinking as if you need a piece of paper to prove you are truly good at something or able to help. Just another goofy comment along the way that helped empower the transformation from different perspective to beautiful gift.

Brain surgeons need pieces of paper. Ditto to airline pilots. Helping others find their highest potential does not. #abk

Have a great week.-Benj

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abk Journey: When Not Knowing is Knowing

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”- well-known proverb

One of the most powerful sentences I have learned to embrace along the journey of the last almost four years is this: I don’t know.

If you want one of my secrets, that is it. We can’t predict or control life, no matter how hard we stubbornly try. (Just look at last year’s hurricane season.)

Is this going to work out?

I don’t know.

Is this a big mistake?

I don’t know.

Does Mississippi suck?

I don’t know.

Will I get really good at golf?

I don’t know.

What’s my end goal?

I don’t know.

Will my body hold up?

I don’t know.

Will there be enough money?

I don’t know.

Will a hurricane hit?

Yes, but I digress.

Will I meet new friends?

I don’t know.

Will I be accepted?

I don’t know.

How in the world could I know the answers to any of these questions? This is my first and only life, to my knowledge, and I’ve never done any of these things before.

Previously, I had never, at the age of 36, quit my comfortable job with great pay and benefits, moved away from my family and friends to Mississippi, altered this, changed that, dropped most (if not all) stale/outdated/irrelevant beliefs, started writing, travelled aimlessly and endlessly, embarked on a rigorous golf journey… to fully understand the life and design the lifestyle that I personally, consciously wanted as a now 38 year old adult.

I had never done that before. How could I possibly expect to know anything?

Ironically, as I mentioned last week, ever since I adopted complete uncertainty into my life, I feel like I have lived four beautiful lifetimes, if not more.

It’s an unorthodox life, for sure, as it relates to the straight and narrow. A conventional financial advisor might scream at me. But surely you know by now that I’m not into the orthodox, conventional, or traditional. I’m into personalized, customized, highly intentional, one-of-a-kind living.

I’m not interested in the restrictive, made up categories of life. I’m interested in life as a massive, endless opportunity. Sure, I could offer some insight into certain categories: navigating change, playing soccer, real estate investment, or how to hit a 7 iron (I have and I happily will).

But I’m really not on this Earth to give advice. I learned that early along the journey. I like to tell stories. I don’t like answering the question, Will this work?, because the answer is often I don’t know. That’s why each person, myself included, has to own their life story. Own the dirt and the grime, the uncertainty, and the failures.

Speaking of, I have one other secret: my definition of failure is my own, no one else’s. I honestly don’t think much about failure because failing at what I’m trying to accomplish is still massive success. But if I have to articulate it, failure, for me, is not giving everything I have in the tank as it relates to my relationship with life and my potential. Failure, for me, is not even attempting what I previously knew to be impossible. You know, the you can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone that is taught in kindergarten, then oft just tossed to the side.

This not working out or that not working out categorized as failure? Who cares? Seriously, who made all this stuff up?

Have a great week.-Benj

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Lights, Camera…Quiet

“Just because everything is different doesn’t mean anything has changed.” – widely used quote (¿Irene Peter?)

Last week, I wrote about action. Doing. If doing was an Olympic sport, I’d be a five-time Gold Medalist. This week, I want to talk about stillness. Being. If being was an Olympic sport, I wouldn’t even qualify to watch it on TV. Until recently. Maybe.

They are completely opposite concepts, but both vitally important to life and my personal journey.

I traded North Carolina for Mississippi.

I traded Charlotte for New Orleans.

I traded skyscrapers for dolphins.

I traded banking for golf.

I traded Gucci loafers for FootJoy spikes.

I traded the Hornets for the Pelicans.

I traded the Panthers for the…wait, no I didn’t.

I traded eastern NC vinegar BBQ for shrimp po’ boys.

I traded lots more. Everything is different. Everything.

But the real change came in learning how to be. Learning how to sit alone, in stillness and in silence, with no outside human, commercial, or material influence. I can’t imagine a better way to find what I really want in life, especially as an already influenced adult. I did have to be able to handle The Truth. Not the truth in relation to anyone else. My Truth.

Sounds lonely? No chance. Sounds boring? Absolutely not. Almost four years on, I try to do it 1-5 times every single day. It usually involves sunrise, sunset, animals, nature, reading, and breathing. It’s really just yoga, a daily re-centering, in my own damn way.

How does just being help, you ask? It promotes calmness to explore self-expansion. It promotes clarity to explore life possibilities. It helps remove limits, most of which we self-impose.

Doing + Being = abk. There’s a little simple math for you. What does that mean?

In traditional terms, I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing over the past four years. Gone backwards even. Miles backwards in some areas. But in the grand experience of life, I’ve lived four lifetimes, if not more.

I really just made another trade. I traded traditional categories and definitions of success for life. For living. How is that measured, you ask? Don’t get me started…

Have a great week.-Benj

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The (Not So) Simple Steps of the (Not So) Simple abk Journey

“Half of the work was just starting. The other half was trying all sorts of stuff to see what I actually enjoyed. The next half was (and is) grinding on and on and on with these things until…”-abk

Look at what I found while unpacking some boxes a couple of weeks ago.

It’s been nearly four years since I started the now defunct, less than world famous fashion blog, anything but khakis. If you have an extra few minutes on your hands anytime soon, you can scroll all the way to the bottom of my Instagram page (@anythingbutkhakis) and have a great laugh with (or at) me.

While you are there, start scrolling up. Somehow, a startup fashion blog hobby turned into a pretty intense lifelong pursuit of self-mastery, lifestyle design, and an ever-expanding potential.

First, it was fashion. Then it was running races. Then it was writing. Then it was traveling. Then it was hats. Then it was more traveling. And then tattoos. And then encouragement. Sporting events. Photography. Family. Friends. Parenting. Golf trips. Mississippi, as an idea. Underwater modeling hahahahahaha!

Mississippi, as an action. Golf photography. New Orleans. The golf journey. The beach. The United States north to south. The United States east to west. Coaching kids soccer. Pelicans. North Carolina visits. Mardi Gras. Crazy belts. The fishing camp. Jet skiing. New house. New job. Scratch golf. Hurricanes. Dolphins. Fishing.

I could go on, but my thumbs are getting sore.

And to think, had I not finally garnered the courage to start the now defunct, less than world famous fashion blog, anything but khakis, none of this would have ever happened.

And to think, had I not tried all of these different things, many of them new, some of them utterly ridiculous, I wouldn’t know what sets my heart on fire.

And to think, had I not kept it moving in the right direction, I might have gone back to what was easy and comfortable.

And to think, I made it so complex. Start. Try stuff. Discard what doesn’t work. Otherwise, keep at it. I remember, prior to four years ago, when that indeed was terrifying.

Can you believe I had a business card made for an online fashion blog? I’m dying over here 😂 ☠️.

Have a great week.-Benj

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