2022 Annual Review
I listened to 49,814 minutes of music this year, according to Spotify. And my most streamed song was one I absolutely hate, and really don't remember listening to it more than once all year.
The Annual Review process, whether it's quiet self-reflection, answering a set of questions or the automated facts from services like Spotify, gives me insight into me. And I learn lessons from the process each year.
A familiar lesson to this reflection process is the recent past clouds my recollection. This year I forgot big things (my sister bringing her family to LA, traveling to Ventura for a wedding) and little things (taking Jack to Riviera, taking June to a farmer's market) before going through this exercise.
The other lesson learned, again, is how bad I am at gauging the 'temperature of the water'--how relevant things are happening, often repeatedly, and I am not really attuned to them. Like those nearly fifty thousand minutes of music.
We'll have the tech soon for this, but if I were to make it: In 2022, I spent 89,672 minutes with Jack but our top song is "Can you clean that up?"
I know I spent long hours online this year, but aside from a few good Wordle runs, I'm not sure that my top song was all that good: sending pointless emails or scrolling mindlessly through web pages.
But enough about the review process; 2022 was a good year.
There were a handful of experiences this year--the World Domination Summit and a leadership training at the US Olympic training facility--where I was overwhelmed with energy and good spirit. The commonality, I think, is hearing people's stories. This was more involved than simply logging into a zoom or getting a coffee: I clear my schedule, I travel, I feel adventurous and I become wholly focused on really hearing and seeing others. I'd like more of this in 2023.
In reviewing this year, I'm also pleased with some of the systems that have come together. Some examples:
Over the past few years, I've built and rebuilt practices around daily notes. Today, I have something that works for me--almost every day, I answer a few questions, write my gratitude list, read something interesting and review notes from previous years. New in 2022 is writing two or three pages of longhand each morning. That last one is difficult and started a bit rough, but now I have some confidence on what that practice is for me. And my review process of all these notes is relatively light and informative.
After trying a mobility coach, online training, kettlebell programs, I've found a weightlifting trainer that mostly focused on good form, and solid movement, and I've seen incremental progress in getting and feeling stronger.
My Board of Directors has pleasantly morphed from an accountability measure to one of deep sharing and vulnerability--I'm so touched by the group and everyone's willingness to participate.
In January 2022, I set out to do a few things. The one area where I'm most proud of progress is investing in friendships more. I want to continue here in 2023.
Bad stuff happens. This year, Amy's father passed away. Less tragically, I broke my foot, was told I need back surgery and, in November, I lost my job. All of these things hurt. The job loss affects me more than I thought it would and clouded my perception of the year until I was able to do this exercise. But I'm also struck how little bad stuff happens to me, and how grateful I am for that.
Finally, it's obvious to me in going through this exercise, in reviewing my daily entries and thinking about the year, how much family is at the forefront of what is important to me. They are almost all my good memories and it's hard to overstate how rich my life is because of them.
In thinking about next year, here's my initial thoughts:
- Vastly simplify my creative ambitions
- Spend very little time in analysis, planning
- Improve my ability to ask for help
- Soften when being helped
- Seek and be ok with risks. Some comps from 2022: David Crabb class, yoga, being on Midlife Athlete podcast
- Stop running yellow lights. This also means doing a cool down ride when I bike, squeegee the shower door...
That's the review. See you at the end of 2023.
Appendix: Favorite 2022 Memories
Each of these deserves a novel, but I think a list will have to suffice:
January 2nd. From my nightly journal: I ran my 9 miles, jumped two fences and ran up La Brea (it was blocked off).
February 23rd. I am buzzing. The JC Board of Directors had just met, and I floated the rest of the day.
March 24th. With co-host Kathleen Grace, 75+ people show up to support Venice Family Clinic at our home, look at art and celebrate being able to be together with people. Separately, my sister Jenny and two of her kids were in town, and we spent a week together. I write in my journal later that week: "I'm sorry that I couldn't spend more time with her alone but felt like every minute was really well spent."
June 26th. Jack joins Amy and I at the World Domination Summit. We hear Frank Warren speak about how he started Post Secret and Jack laughs and laughs. We all set a world record. And Jack asks if we can attend every year.
July 14th. "We have hit the family lottery." My aunt says on a back porch in Pittsburgh, truthfully. I had just had the thought "I need to get back to LA, away from these people."
August 4th. Jack loved the dinner I cooked tonight. "Can we have this on my birthday?"
August 24th. I have an opportunity to go to the Olympic training facility in Chula Vista. I meet Wes, who has worked with Paralympian Lex Gillette for the past 8+ years. Wes gave up his own track and field dreams to be a guide runner for the blind Lex.
October 9th. Jack and I go with Ruben and Gabe to the LAFC game. Ruben memorably says: If someone asks me what one event captures the spirit of Los Angeles, I think it's a LAFC home game. Gabe memorably eats two street dogs.
Appendix: Favorite Books
At the end of every year, many publications publish their best-of-the-year list. But my favorite list, year in and out, is the WSJ's; their prompt, to dozens of business and cultural leaders, must be wide, because the responses are varied, interesting and, importantly, not necessarily books that happen to be published in a year.
For instance, Katherine J. Chen says something I have felt numerous times in my life: "There is, however, a recurring pattern in my life: I always seem to pick up the precise book I need at the moment, usually while undergoing some kind of internal crisis"--that's me, too.
So instead of a list that is simply, I liked this one and that one, let me try to give some context for my 2022 reading list.
Sometimes, it's an event or topic area that is relevant to my daily life that sparks some line of reading. My mid 40s have led me to learn more about this stage of adult development. Kieran Setiya's Midlife, which was philosophical and important and original (he says we need to have a better 'philosophical palette' of midlife, an image that I keep going back to), led me to similar books, including the wonderful Andrew Jamison's Midlife: Humanity's Secret Weapon.
A friend recommended George Saunders' A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, that I mixed in with his Tenth of December and Liberation Day. Patricia Lockwood's essay on Saunders in the London Review of Books then made me feel small for liking what I read.
Other topic areas included John Banville novels, the Italian-Scot painter Eduardo Paolozzi, and the economics of Sport (The Barcelona Complex and An Economist Goes to the Game).
There are then books that come up in conversation, they go to the top of the list.
This year, a few online friends praised Paul Millerd's Pathless Path. It wasn't what I expected--more of a set of connected thoughts than a polemic (this is a good thing). And then meeting Paul in July was a treat.
In a different but similar vein, I read an excerpt and then heard Ian McEwan read Lessons and I quickly devoured it.
I read something nice in the LA Review of Books and then found myself puzzling over and re-reading whole chunks of Always Crashing in the Same Car, watching Tuesday Weld films because of Matthew Specktor's obsession. And some great lyrical moments, including, "Autumn in Los Angeles ... Everything grows more chromatic: the late sunshine, the shop windows, the cars. And then evening arrives like an orange rolling off a table." I know that orange.
Jhumpa Lahiri's Whereabouts was stellar. I picked up Trust, by Hernan Diaz, because of numerous "best of 2022" lists, and it was terrific. Book reviews led me to Checkout 19, funny, touching, something else, and Damon Galgut's The Promise, which was, if pressed, the single favorite thing read this year, mostly because how intricate and rich the story is.
Finally, there are the stacks of books that I have purchased, and haven't yet read, that call out to me nearly daily on my shelves.