This is the first of its kind, for me, and it explains itself if you've got the time to listen. It's an unedited, unstaged, video blog. The thing that happens next is thinking out loud more often, in more ways than I have been. :) Thank you for being here.

Love,

-Isaac

Transcript

(exhales) Hi. I've been experimenting lightly with using Twitter for journaling thoughts as a way to get my process outside of my head and have other people be able to benefit from what's going on there.

And have that be it for now, because I haven't... State in the positive, because right now, the way that I know how to be creative works best without outside input, but with it constantly flowing out of me. So I'm trying video. And we're gonna talk about Lightward.

The context for this is that my family needs (chuckles) money. Let's state that in the most pedestrian of terms. Every so often, somebody shows up and says, "Hey, a life situation X. I just need 10 grand." (machine whirring) I think this is a pretty common thing, like you break a leg or someone breaks into your house or—making up examples here—but resource scarcity is a thing for most people. And for a variety of factors, it's not a thing for me and for Abe, and that's really cool, on the one hand. On the other, I wanna solve that problem for everyone. And that's what I'm laying here thinking about. That's what I'm shirtless in my room doing handstands with a candle, thinking about, 'cause I think it's solvable. So I'm gonna solve it.

I'm thinking about the ways to do that, right? And I'm very not motivated to take the route that most people take, which is to figure out how to charge a lot for their time or whatever. Like these things are usually solved for individuals through a series of one-off transactions: I do X, I receive Y. I do that enough times, I throw in some multipliers, and suddenly the return of my time is enough that I can be very comfortable and so can a limited number of other people. That doesn't work for me. That's not how what I've set up works for our existing lifestyle. And that's not how it works for other people. I'm sure there are mathematical ways to describe this stuff, and I should ask my brother Aaron, because he has more of a background in that than I do.

But rather than revisit the path of consulting, or even of creating a bunch of mini mes—which is what I see a lot of people who have graduated consulting do—it needs to be something around energy. It needs to be something around movement. Jasmine Starr actually seems to be doing a really good job of this, at least from what I've seen over her shoulder on Instagram and whatever else. She energizes people and supplies them with what she knows about her specific industry—photography and social media—and energizes them to go out and do whatever they do. She disseminates the principles that she's discovered so that other people may apply them and do what they do… do whatever they do. Like she aids other people on their journey to becoming themselves. This is different—I hold this to be different—than creating mini mes, like rather than training up a bunch of people to make web apps the way that I do, rather than her training a bunch of people to do photography the way that she does it.

There's a term from math that I want to use here; I can't remember what it is. But regardless, rather than taking who she is and duplicating it, rather than me duplicating what I am, I and she—I want to, and she does—take the principles that are behind what works and give 'em to other people so that they can find out what that means for themselves. It is mini mes, but only in a way that's more abstract. And if you take that one step further, that abstraction thing—if you teach other people to expand their thinking the way that you expand thinking—then you're still creating mini me, but we're two abstractions deep. You're no longer teaching people to do what you do, or teaching people (to go one abstraction layer deep) teaching people to think the way that you think. Teaching people to learn the way you learn… that's more of where I'm headed, I suppose.

But I don't want to get too deep down that road. Returning to the original point of this, I stated it in super blunt, unattractive terms: my family needs money. I want to create something that is all energy, and all things are. But I've got a very specific sense for what this thing looks like. And it really—it feels like if you've played video games, it feels like a fog of war type thing. Like when you play a game, you start out with a map and you may or may not have a sense of the shape of it, but the whole thing is covered up by fog. And only as you adventure through it does the fog lift and you get to see what was there all along. It kind of feels like that. Like, I have a sense for what this thing will be. I'm only gonna find out what the particulars of it are once I visit those particulars.

The thing that I create, the machine that I create, the dynamic that I create must not be something driven by transactions, again, in the way that most consultants do with their time or the way that maybe even people in stores do with their wares or whatever else. It can't be me selling my hours to somebody or me showing up to do webinars on a regular basis or anything else like that. More than that, I think my role in it is less of… I think my role in what will be is much less of me, like, pushing something down the road and more of, like, let's get off the road into the water where there's less friction. But beyond there, let's get into a river where there's an actual current, and so I'm not like—(chuckles) okay, all right, let's continue this transportation thing. We're not pushing a car down a road or whatever. We're off a flat surface. We're getting onto the water where there's a lot less friction, but we're not on a lake and having to paddle constantly with a paddle boat or something so we keep moving. We're on a river where there's a current, and we're able to flow with it. And my role is not to push a car down a road or to be constantly paddling on a lake. This is really fun. But instead, it is to be the oar on the back of a canoe, making sure that we always stay in the current, giving the occasional big push as warranted to make sure that we're headed in a way where there lies more current. I wonder what that's gonna look like.

The name that came to me a couple of weeks ago is Lightward. And I've shared that name with very few people because only two people have gotten it the way that I feel it—my husband and a good friend out in California. Lightward. L-I-G-H-T-W-A-R-D. One word, as in toward the light. And it's the kind of name that motivates me to do the—it's the kind of name that, if I think about it for more than two seconds at a time, I start to tear up. Abe and I went to a photography retreat a couple weeks ago, and someone there, an instructor there, said that "The right brand will free you to do what you really care about doing, what lights you up." I'm paraphrasing here, but the idea was that the right brand is gonna light you up. And if I can reinterpret that in a way that rings really true for me, the right brand is just truth. Like the right brand is just finding the way to communicate the thing that was true for you all along. It's not finding a lens that focuses you in the right way; it's finding a lens that isn't a lens—it's just a pane of glass that lets people see and lets you see you for who you really are. Or in this case, in Lightward's case, me for who I really am.

The thing that I care about the most is, in words that ring true for me, chasing the light—chasing down patterns and rhythms and things that are toward the light, for whatever light means. If that's truth, if that's energy, I don't know. And I know when I'm on the right track, like, I know when I'm moving lightward. That's what it comes down to. Like, I know when I'm in the flow on something. It might just be the same as what a lot of people think of as flow, something that lights you up, if I can keep using related stuff. You're in a state of flow when the next movement is effortlessly available to you, when time just vanishes because you are simultaneously energized and engaged by and with what you are doing. And to me, the word that fits that, the word that makes me feel—I guess this describes how I feel about it—That is lightward. And the system that I envision, or the thing that feels the most true is, yeah, one…I don't have specifics yet, but one that is that rudder-on-the-river metaphor. And to do that, that means me showing up in public places more. That means me having some kind of connection with other agents more. That means…in very simple terms, that means passing the energy around.

I know that I'm an energizing force when I am connected with other people or when I connect with other people—when people take in that which I have, that which comes out of me naturally—regardless of what the art or the mode of expression actually is. And I've done that, and I've done that in a bunch of ways so far. I've done that with… I mean, I guess anything that I do that can be interpreted by somebody else. I've done that with writing, I've done that with music, I've done that with a series of Instagram videos that I did on inspiration-related stuff this year. I've done that with photography, I've done that with software. I've done that with customer support, I've done that with team management, I've done that with my marriage.

I started doing affirmations back in January, and the first one that I started with that really resonated with me was, "I'm a massive force for love and wonder." In fact, I wonder…there was more to it than that, but that's the sense, that's the piece of it that sticks: I'm a massive force for love and wonder. The next sentence was something like, "It lights up whoever it touches. It resonates deeply with the world around me. It leaves a mark, it leaves a vibration, it leaves energy behind—a massive force for love and for wonder." And I know that to be true about myself. And the name Lightward connects with me in the same way that that sentence connects with me. Like, it shows me myself in a way that I find completely joyful and completely like, this is amazing, let's go and do something with this. Let's go see what this feels like. Let's go spread our wings and see what happens next, right?

And this is why the fact that my family needs money is energizing to me. Not because I have the ability to pay someone's bills, but because in chasing the light, I suppose—right, lightward—in heading toward the light, I get to catch other people along with me and we all get to go together. And the side effects of that include things like being able to pay for someone's bills, being able to take care of a car payment or whatever. But it's more than that, right? Like, it's helping each other achieve a kind of inner freedom, a spiritual freedom. And that is absolutely motivating to me, like that lightward journey. Like, it's really cool to be able to say, "I possess the right skills at the right time in order to generate a sum of money that makes some financial problems go away." Like, that's a thing. But that's only partially motivating to me. The core dynamic behind that is much more than that. And I am curious to see what it looks like.

I've taken a mini retreat here in my bedroom. Abe, my husband, is off in the other room. We've got a friend over. They're gonna watch a movie. I've got a notebook of notes I've been making throughout the year that I'm reviewing. I'm practicing handstands, and I've got a foam roller here because my upper back is tight and I'm rolling it out. And I'm taking this time to just think about everything. When a problem feels real to me—or when a situation is real to me—and by real I mean, like, in my head having a shape and weight and physics, then I can think about how to balance things so that the problem is made to be at peace, I suppose. Like, think about a tennis ball. If someone lobs a tennis ball at you, you kind of have an idea of where you need to put your hand, what kind of impact you need to anticipate, where relative to your body your hand should be, and you have instincts around how to catch that ball. But if I told you to picture a cut-out picture on paper of a ball flying at you at 20 miles an hour, you might not know how to handle that, because when have you ever seen a cut-out piece of paper flying at you 20 miles an hour? Like, that doesn't feel real.

So all that to say, I came in here to take some time to think about the idea that my family needs money, and to think about what that means and how to make that real in my head. And I think here's where I probably—if I keep talking, I'll probably get into circles—here's where I start thinking about how do I solve for that problem in a way that not only maintains my freedom but increases my freedom. Like, that's actually…actually, that might be a good litmus test for any solution to this sort of thing. Any solution to this must maintain or increase freedom for everyone. That makes a lot of sense, actually. Maintain or increase freedom for everyone. That rings really true. Because people don't do more… It's not that people are lazy, it's not that life is lazy, it's that artificial solutions don't take. There has to be a flow.

There's a name for this situation, but you've probably seen a lawn that was envisioned by the architect to be this perfectly manicured green space—let's say it's a rectangular shape—and the architect's vision was, "People will walk here and here to get from point A to point B." But people don't do that, because there's very obviously a natural path here. And so you end up with nice sidewalks or trails over there, but a line of dead grass cutting straight across because people always take the direct path. And I think that's why the things that I've made work so well for people. And I think that's why I'm very sure that any solution to solving resource scarcity must do the same thing, which is allow people to solve their own problems with dignity. Which I think is another way—it's probably not exactly the same thing as maintaining or increasing freedom for everybody involved, but I think it's a corollary. Allowing people to solve their own problems with dignity and maintain or increase freedom for everybody—I think those are siblings.

So I've been talking super in the abstract for something that has real-world—I wouldn't say outputs more than requirements. Because the way I work is to solve problems in the abstract so that when things are condensed down into the real world, they just inevitably work. Like, there can be no outcome but to have the problem be made moot. And that's what I will do here, because I think that's what I was made to do. And if I think ahead to what the real-world outputs of this kind of thing look like… I think it means me probably just getting a livestream and thinking out loud, honestly. Like, it feels good to talk about things. And I'm figuring out my relationship with sharing, and I think that I kind of already know what it is. And it feels weird and kind of selfish in a way to say that I think my mode of sharing right now is extremely one way. Like, I put it out into the world and what happens happens, that I don't do much in the way of taking things back in. It feels weird to say, but that's what feels right right now, so I'm gonna roll with that.

So I think it looks like me thinking out loud more in video. It means… I've just made an app called Mechanic for Shopify. It means hanging out online with people who are using it too and giving a helping hand. It means when I'm solving other people's problems for Mechanic, doing that on a livestream so other people can watch and join in. It means just leaving behind a ton of artifacts of what's going on. Leaving behind a ton of artifacts—that's interesting. If we return to the rudder-on-the-river metaphor with the occasional push—if you've ever steered a canoe, you know what I'm talking about—leaving behind a bunch of artifacts of what I'm doing kind of feels like leaving behind lots of the videos and messages and posts and software and whatever else—art. But I guess those things are also the vehicle by which the energy that I have gets transferred to other people. So… (exhales) mm-hm. (chuckles)

And part of this is just trust. Trust that what I have will do something for other people. I know—ooh, I feel like tearing up. This is interesting—I know that when I make music, people feel it. I know that when I write, people feel it. I know that when I talk, people feel it. And I guess… I guess the doubt part of it is like doubting that I'll be understood the way that I understand myself, I guess. But I don't think that being understood is necessary. You can feel music without understanding it the way the musician understands it. People feel when I play without understanding the theory of what I'm playing. And I think that that works because when I play, it doesn't come from theory; it comes from energy. It comes from instinct. It comes from the flow—what happens next, that effortlessly available next step. Theory is how you describe that outcome. Maybe theory isn't why we pushed the paddle in the first place.

And here's where the metaphors start to get a little bit loose and all over the place, because this is much more of a feeling than it is an actual chain of logic. So I guess it's okay. Yeah, it is okay. I don't need to guess. This is a thing also: I'm paying attention to when I express doubt about something that I actually don't have any doubt about; I'm just afraid to commit to the thing that I know. I know that it's okay if I'm not understood. I know that people will get the feeling. I know that people will receive the energy that I'm sending out, even if they don't understand my words, or even if they don't have the same technical understanding of what I'm doing as I do. People still get the energy in it, and that's the important thing.

And if I'm gonna take Lightward and have it be a thing that is much bigger than me, that means spreading this energy around. It means taking everything that I've got and putting it out there in a way… no, not even that, not even in a way. This isn't about positioning. This isn't about optimizing for a particular type of reaction from somebody. It's just taking what is real that I have and putting it out there so that whatever is real inside you can respond in whatever way that response looks.

Lightward is not a consultancy. Lightward is not a software shop. Lightward is not an artistic collective. Lightward is not a philanthropic organization. Lightward is not an agency. Lightward is not a software company. It may be all of those things, but only as byproducts of what it really is, which is energy moving toward what I understand as light. And that feels right.

The last few weeks have been *different*. We're at the end of our travel, for the moment, and it is extraordinarily right that this beauty would cross my path, here, and now.

So. Here's 17 minutes of music, that we two made, for you, and your day. ❤️

Love,

-Isaac

Okay.

Okay.

OKAY YES, I am here, and I am present, and I have finally opted in to figuring out who I am, because of the joy in that discovery. And not out of obligation, or out of fear of missing my potential, or out of anything else other than the delight in discovering what energy arises from the unfolding of the self.

There were two books that did it for me.

Year of Yes, by Shonda Rhimes. I identify with the journey she describes: she also is a deeply creative and keenly intelligent person who shied away from the public eye like crazy, and who was deeply suspicious of putting herself into anything remotely resembling a spotlight. Her process of discovery – that celebrating out in the light is just sheer joy – was something I was able to follow, because I identified with where she started.

You Are a Badass, by Jen Sincero. ... I mean, same story here. A journey whose beginning looks a lot like my present, whose history looks like a lot like my past. A path I was able to project myself onto, allowing me to see what could happen next. Hard, purpose-built tools for negotiating some persistent crags on that path.

If you feel perennially on the cusp, may I sharply suggest you read these two books.

It has been an interesting few weeks. My authorial voice varies, and right now my writing belies the warmth I'm coming from, but it is nailing the intensity I feel about this. Something has changed, and that something is my openness to my own development. Because since adolescence I've been reluctant to give my own development any honor whatsoever, and that has finally, finally, changed.

"As children do."

I've started a video series. Everything I make is from my heart, but this is the first work of mine from a heart that actively, openly, eagerly wants to see what it can become. Each video is ~sixty seconds long, and contains something that I badly want to make sure that you know. Wake up with it on Instagram - follow me at @isaacbowen. Or, subscribe on YouTube.

There are eleven videos up, as of today. There's a new one every morning, 'cept Sundays.

Watch all of them, in a row, here.

I love you. And, more relevantly, I love me. Here we go. -Isaac

We are constantly on the edge of everything changing (or maybe we are on the edge of every change), and if we don't tip over that edge, everything remains the same. But we are organic, we are home-grown systems of subsystems, and everything cannot change in a moment or we would have no identity, no history, no sustaining threads. I think this means that our best hope is to stay open to those flashes of brilliance (and this metaphor requires literal brilliance, as the sun is brilliant), and let the temporary blindness inform our return to habit, allowing it to alter our systems and our subsystems by degrees. I cannot become a different person overnight. But in a year, a month, a fortnight, my ears ringing and my eyes blinking, I'll make out your figure and tell you what I've seen, and you'll hear a different timbre in my voice than you've heard there before. (no I did not do shrooms) -Isaac

I've been appreciating Aesop's work as of late (no, not that one), and (among other things) the way they speak with the words of those who have spoken well, as if Mrs Who were a chemist. In the same fashion, the much less vaunted cans of tomatoes in our cupboard quote John Muir on their label:

When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.

It's hard for me to write about anything, because everything I want to tell you seems self-evident in context. Whatever I have to tell you is something inferable from its surroundings — if I never told you, if I never filled in that gap in your awareness, you might still fill it in by looking at the things that surround it.

Having said that, you do not know what you do not know, and awareness knows nothing of gaps. Awareness is always seamless, with no perception of what isn't perceived.

So.

I'm not driven to seek out new information. I am driven to make sense of the information I have. I am very, very good at synthesis, and there's no shortage of material already in my sphere.

Which is why I'm grateful for the incursion of fire that is my husband.

Before meeting him, my soul color was a kind of grey blue. It was a color born of synthesizing everything I had in that period: sober and cerebral friends, sober and cerebral work, sober and cerebral play. I read books and played games and had conversations and created things that were interesting, but burned cool.

Someone's color does not change all in a moment. I met Abe in 2014, and 2018 was the year that I found the fire. The Sixty seconds of light series was from the very start of this period.

And really, the only thing that did it was that Abe gave me a book to read.

I talked about the specific book before; right now I want to talk about the fact that the book showed me things about myself that weren't in my awareness already. You don't know what you don't know; you never know who you are all at once, and the best thing I received this year was an introduction to more of who I might be.

My soul color is now a bright orange-red.

:)

This post is really about the fact that I just read a (I think he has several?) Richard Branson autobiography. I didn't have a role model until I read this book. I never felt like I lacked one, and "role model" isn't really right either: I don't want to model myself after this person, but Branson is a stellar example of someone whose ideology and way of modeling the world is suuuuuuuper close to mine. I've never run into that before, and it's incredible and enlightening and encouraging to read an account of what someone might do with 50 years of that toolset.

The principle thing that Branson and I both know:

Everything we create must either exist all at once (a event to be attended, a musical recording), or live a full life of its own. And if you are aiming for the latter, you must start with how the thing will feed and grow and how it will relate to the world around it. Branson has a lifetime of doing this with businesses, and I do this in a way that I'm exploring. ;) We both create things that want to live, and do so with a care for the fitness of this new organism, and the way that it keeps itself fit. The metaphor almost has to be organic: if you are creating a living meta-thing (for all life is recursively meta) (and to be clear, I'm talking about a kind of living thing that exists between people, like a business or some other network), you're going to be making sure that its airways are clear and that its heart can support its organs and that it has the instincts for self-preservation. If you do not, your creation will either be stillborn or sputter into life and then expire, more or less violently for the energy you gave it at the start. This is not what I do: I create things that live their lives well and in good health, and that give life to the things around them. And hot damn is it good to read the life story of someone else who does this too.

And I think that is actually all that I want to say about this book. I don't come away from things with bullet points of things to remember. I come away having expanded my personhood. I think everyone does, but it's hard to talk about without having to condense the change into bullets. But that's not how I work and it's not how I think, and I'm learning (bullet point) to lean, further, into how I was made to be.

❤️❤️

Okay.

Okay.

OKAY YES, I am here, and I am present, and I have finally opted in to figuring out who I am, because of the joy in that discovery. And not out of obligation, or out of fear of missing my potential, or out of anything else other than the delight in discovering what energy arises from the unfolding of the self.

There were two books that did it for me.

Year of Yes, by Shonda Rhimes. I identify with the journey she describes: she also is a deeply creative and keenly intelligent person who shied away from the public eye like crazy, and who was deeply suspicious of putting herself into anything remotely resembling a spotlight. Her process of discovery – that celebrating out in the light is just sheer joy – was something I was able to follow, because I identified with where she started.

You Are a Badass, by Jen Sincero. ... I mean, same story here. A journey whose beginning looks a lot like my present, whose history looks like a lot like my past. A path I was able to project myself onto, allowing me to see what could happen next. Hard, purpose-built tools for negotiating some persistent crags on that path.

If you feel perennially on the cusp, may I sharply suggest you read these two books.

It has been an interesting few weeks. My authorial voice varies, and right now my writing belies the warmth I'm coming from, but it is nailing the intensity I feel about this. Something has changed, and that something is my openness to my own development. Because since adolescence I've been reluctant to give my own development any honor whatsoever, and that has finally, finally, changed.

"As children do."

I've started a video series. Everything I make is from my heart, but this is the first work of mine from a heart that actively, openly, eagerly wants to see what it can become. Each video is ~sixty seconds long, and contains something that I badly want to make sure that you know. Wake up with it on Instagram - follow me at @isaacbowen. Or, subscribe on YouTube.

There are eleven videos up, as of today. There's a new one every morning, 'cept Sundays.

Watch all of them, in a row, here.

I love you. And, more relevantly, I love me. Here we go.

1to4 is/was/whatever a spiritual successor to Heartbeat. To use it is to have a conversation with an earnestly interested party about how you're doing, using simple, unambiguous terms.

I wrote a letter to the user, published at /why, to set the tone for its use. Though, of course, every piece of it was designed to give off the same vibe of simple love, no matter how much of it the user actually found. And parts of it are meant to be "found", through exploration, just like a conversation. It operated almost like a piece of interactive fiction, but one in which the user is writing the story.

1to4 texts the user daily to see how they're doing on a 1-2-3-4 scale, and then sends that number to any configured recipients -- anyone who the user trusts to understand what a "4" or a "2" (or whatever) means for them. The recipient can text back a heart. That's it. I designed it to be a low-emotional-cost method for staying connected with others.

It used a passwordless auth system, texting the user a numeric code to enter back into the interface for authentication. This solidly predated the proliferation of two-factor auth, which is neat. :)

Here's why.

The world is exploding.

It has always been exploding, for as long as time has existed.

But the patch of fabric that you and I inhabit is becoming more densely woven, and the threads are moving aside to make room for each other, and none of us is where we were yesterday.

And when everything is moving and changing and becoming undone and redone, it is most important to ask,

How are you today?

because, answered simply, we arrive — suddenly and unquestionably — at Truth.

Truth, here defined as a complete and utterly infallible fact of reality. Reality, here defined as that which you experience; for all we know of the world, of anything, is what we experience. And because you are, in a sense, utterly alone in your reality, you are the only one qualified to say even one thing about your reality. Therefore, Truth can only come from you.

And it is most important to answer,

I love you.

because only Love can lock eyes with Truth, and not look away.

Love, here defined as a complete and utterly infallible acceptance. Acceptance, here defined as an embrace, a warmth, an open-eyed willingness to see, and to see more. Truth is at once completely simple and insanely complex, and so only something unconditional can suffice in response.

So: how are you today? Tell me the truth: your truth, the truth today, because you are the only one who can. Maybe a friend asked, and that's why you're here. Maybe a stranger asked. That's good too. Maybe nobody asked, and so I am asking you myself.

Because you are not alone, and you matter, and how you are matters.

Thank you for being here. :) Let's begin.