Learning Yes

Posted on August 27, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Saying yes to myself fills the page with words and my world with opportunities. Saying no stops progress. Saying no is necessary when too much is going on, but saying no out of humility is a luxury. Yes is an affirmation, and sometimes yes is a necessary step that moves someone from a comfortable rut and into an uncertain but hopefully improved situation. I’m learning to say yes.

I hesitated as I started to write this post. It may sound silly or contrived but the sentences in that first paragraph that included the word yes flowed and the sentences that included the word no took longer to write. My original mental sketch of the post changed after writing one paragraph because I was aware of the immediacy of my response. No wonder (and oddly enough there’s a hesitancy again) no wonder some people find themselves stymied as they try to progress by considering each possibility with how it will fail to meet expectations instead of how it will succeed.

Lately I’ve found myself lining up new types of classes. Each is an extension of an existing class or an ongoing energetic conversation. Half of the new classes are the result of someone turning to me and asking, “So, Tom, would you teach that class?“. I’ve said yes. Details to follow, both for this blog, but also within my head.

Modern Self-Publishing – I’ve talked about it before, and each time I teach it something has changed since the last time, even if the previous session was only a month ago. I always handed out class notes: handouts xeroxed and stapled. Blurb.com offered a new type of paperback printing process, so I tested it by converting the handouts into a bound pamphlet. One of the attendees pointed out that their friend in Boston wished she could’ve taken the class, could I send her a copy of the handouts? Well, yes! There’s an online version, for a small nominal fee. Then I quickly went home and clicked the right buttons on the web site to make the book public and profitable.

There’s another yes there. Inspiration followed, and now I’ve expanded it from a pamphlet into a book form by including my narrative beside each slide. (Email me for details. tetrimbath@whidbey.com)

Art & Photo Book Making – A good friend (Joe Menth from Fine Balance Imaging) helped put together my photo essay books, knew about my self-publishing classes, and taking two positives we’ve made another class – Art & Photo Book Making. The first half will be Joe talking about how to make the book: properly formatting the images, collecting the requisite text, working in and around the restriction. I’ll teach the second half, the what to do with your product, by talking from the point of view of a self-publisher: the art and photo book as gift, portable portfolio, or item to sell.

People learned that I knew something about writing, photography, and publishing, so I received an unsolicited request to teach a class that pulled all of those elements together for one group’s special needs.

How to Prepare, Write and Publish a Family History – First an unexpected email, than a phone call, all without knowing the details but always with a cautious yes. When they mentioned they were willing to pay for my time the yes became less cautious and more enthusiastic. I’d actually said yes in my head, even if the arrangements fell through, because they’d inspired new avenues for me to travel. Anyone interested in self-publishing for a writers’ group, travel enthusiasts, business seminars?

Seemingly separately at a meeting of the artists that will be on the Whidbey Island Open Studio Tour, the topic of social media came up. I mentioned my use of blogging, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and now Google+. A few curious heads turned my way and asked if I would teach a class about that.

Social Media for Artists – in negotiations, because I said yes, but I wanted to include a local expert to add to my pragmatic perspective. Russell Sparkman of The Center For New Media will teach half. I’ll teach half. Stay tuned for what that means and when it will happen.

Saying yes at so many junctures has resulted in a fuller and funner life. Saying yes has also become a practice and a habit that makes me more aware of the questions and requests that I overlooked before. Life looks busy and more is approaching.

I know people who deeply understand subjects and skills to the point that they aren’t conscious of their unique ability. To their eyes, everyone should be able to understand how to dance, or how to repair a computer, or how to decorate, or how to listen, or how to laugh. One of my favorites is a friend who understands computers so well that he knows when it is easier to rebuild the hardware instead of tinkering with the software. A blue screen of death on a Friday can result in a rebuilt, updated and upgraded computer by Monday. Why doesn’t everyone do that? Dude. We few of us are as smart as you, particularly in that field.

Acting as if everyone knows as much as you is honorable humility. It places everyone on an equal level without a hint of ego. It also denies gifts to the rest of us. It can be comfortable saying, oh no, no one needs to hear what I have to say. But I’ll return to my most posted Will Rogers paraphrased quote, “You know everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.” If my ignorance and curiosity matches your skill and expertise enough that I ask for your help don’t be too humble; don’t assume I am merely being polite. Learn to say yes and share your gift, probably for a nominal fee of course.

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What Is The Same

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Step away from anything for several years and then step back in. Our world is changing rapidly. That’s not news. In some cases it is even good. I’m an optimist; so, of course I’ll find the good in that. But that doesn’t negate the emotional reaction. Adjusting to something that is not the same is educational and, at some level, a source of stress. Hopefully the stress costs less than the education is worth. In either case, plans and actions must change as well.

My dad turns 85 this week. Happy Birthday Dad! His world and mine have lots of similarities, but the way they play out are completely different. He had to find a new career at 58. I’m submitting resumes at 52. He moved to the West Coast from outside Pittsburgh several years ago. I went through that culture shift a few decades ago. I learned my work ethic from him and my mom. He works every day tending twenty acres. I work every day managing my writing, photography, events, and charitable work. He gets dirtier than me.

Back when I was a new engineer at Boeing, Mom and Dad came out to visit. They were a bit surprised to find that I wasn’t wearing a suit and tie to work. As a pragmatist I didn’t see the need. I worked with computers more than people. The computers didn’t care what I wore, though anything that built up a static charge was considered a bad idea. I took a day off so we could all go on the Boeing tour. Lots of folks want to see buildings that dwarf jumbo jets. While we stood in line outside the gate my mom pointed out the well-dressed men heading in to work. She thought I should dress like them. They looked impressive, but I didn’t work with them. I worked with the next guy that showed up. He was wearing a wide-brim Panama hat, knickers, suspenders, and knee-high argyle socks. He was the computer guru responsible for operating my groups’ “mini” computer (only the size of four refrigerators and three washing machines!) So, Mom, do you want me to dress like the folks I work with? My work environment was not the same as they expected.

The idea of wearing a tie came up again while talking to my dad about my dating life. He remarried after my mom passed away. That’s how he ended up on the West Coast. Ain’t love grand? He probably wore a tie. I’m single and he suggested that I might have more luck if I dressed better, maybe wear a tie. A tie on Whidbey means either you’re not from around here, or you’re delivering bad news, or you’re going to ask someone for money. Maybe it means it’s Sunday, but I wouldn’t count on it. I wear shorts most of the time, and the only odd thing about that is that I wear them throughout the year. For most of the year it isn’t much of a topic of conversation. Welcome to island life where even the billionaires wear shorts.

So here I am, 52, applying for jobs and signing up for eHarmony. My how things have changed.

Thirty years ago, applying for jobs meant reading the paper, asking for an application, typing up resumes using fresh typewriter ribbon and heavy paper, with a nice cover sheet, and mailing everything off in crisply lettered envelopes. Don’t forget to sign with a good pen and a strong signature. Be patient. It would take a while. Today I applied for a job online. It was natural to link to my LinkedIn profile, upload a resume or two, click on some pull-down menus, and hit Send. Oops. I probably forgot to read the Terms and Conditions page. It was probably delivered within seconds, but maybe as long as minutes. I could hear from them anytime, or not at all. They might even read this blog post before calling. (Hello.) The world is not the same. But I like it better this way.

Fresh out of college, dating was tough. I was an engineer in a building of engineers and in 1980 very few engineers were women. My social scene was like that last sentence, lacking punctuation. Dating was a random thing, though as my mother pointed out it would be easier if I put on a tie and went to church. I didn’t do either. Maybe she was right. About ten unmarried years later I finally placed a personal ad in the paper. Other busy professionals were doing it too. The process was less random, but it took weeks. Post an ad, receive weekly bundles of postcard replies or not, mail back responses or not, maybe call, maybe meet. Now, answer a questionnaire, upload some photos and phrases, type in credit card info, and a computer can provide a match within minutes. Almost none of them live on my island, but so it goes. At least the process is efficient. (And yes I am a fan of eHarmony, and No, I am not going into details. But I will say that I am happy with the results – and still single.)

My plans for my life have changed. Retirement, a divorce out of a marriage, my first career, have not worked out as I expected. At an abstract level, I know that life will not turn out according to plan except through either extreme luck or extreme rigidity. The changes catch me by surprise despite that awareness.

Amidst the changes, I strive to maintain some constants within my life. Frugality and adaptability have always been useful. Frugality has allowed flexibility because I am less likely to be constrained by monetary pressures. Even amidst this month’s personal financial upheaval, my frugality has enabled me to readily extend and rearrange my resources. I’ll miss my Dad’s birthday party, but I’ll probably get to visit later this year. Adaptability has made it easier to react to my new situation. My passions are people and ideas, which means I’m part of a community and I’m aware of what’s new. Over the years I’ve kept somewhat apace of technology, so I’ve already established an electronic network of friends via Facebook and Google+, while also reaching out via Twitter and LinkedIn. If I’d retired as a recluse the transition would be too traumatic. Friends and familiarity make life easier.

What’s the same? Personal values and an acceptance of change.

And if I have to wear a tie – well, luckily, wearing a tie is merely a fashion choice. I actually enjoy wearing a suit occasionally. I’ve been told I look good that way. Maybe I’ll be able to work in jeans. Maybe I won’t have to get a job. The market will probably recover. Windfalls happen. Books and photos can sell. Who knows? But something will change and I’ll be ready to adapt while I, essentially, stay the same.

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Sketching Life

Posted on August 20, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

This week we held a board meeting for The New Road Map Foundation, an organization that advocates financial literacy for individuals. Good timing. Have you seen the economy lately? It’s looking sketchy. New Road Map helps people draw the life they want instead of just copying someone else’s. But we don’t all have to do it the same way.

We all agreed this is a prime time for the organization’s goals that I think of as financial literacy, financial integrity, and financial independence for individuals by individuals. (I forget the exact wording.) Every person may not be their own credentialed financial expert, but professional institutional expertise has lost much of its credibility. New Road Map provides resources based around the 9-Step program developed by Joe Dominguez and written and championed by Vicki Robin. The site has study guides, inspirational stories, access to classes, speakers, and the Simple Living Forums, which are possibly the busiest part of the site. The forums are online discussion groups of people at every level of financial knowledge and stability. There’s a lot there. Spreading it around is the hard part.

I’ve been Secretary, prime note taker and agenda collector, for a bit more than two years now, during some of the worst economic crises in memory. I feel sorry for anyone that’s only known investing from 2000 until now. To them it must seem like perpetual drama and trauma. It wasn’t always that way. In the meantime, though, even experienced money managers find themselves avoiding the topic and the news. (Hmm, maybe if I wasn’t Secretary the economy would return to normal.)

Despite the drama, we know there are people who are taking personal responsibility for their finances. We also know that many people don’t know where to start.

Art comes to mind as an analogy as I write. That’s probably because I am blogging from my Saturday station sitting beside my photos amongst the painters, sculptors, and jewelers at the Bailey Saturday Art Market.

Creating art intimidates many. They look at masterpieces and balk at starting because they can’t imagine getting from not even knowing one canvas from another to somehow being able to create stunning imagery. The trick is realizing that every masterpiece was painted by someone who, at one time, knew nothing about paints, pigments, brushes, and easels. Child proteges happen, but I suspect most artists follow a much longer and more strenuous path without knowing how far they’ll go. The important accomplishment was the tendency to continue the journey.

I think everyone has some artist in them. The trick is finding the art that fits the artist. Most of the artists setting up today started slowly and small then worked their way to bigger visions and larger goals. Finding the best way to start may mean taking many first steps into different arts until one is found where the second step leads to the third, the fourth, and on. Whether it is a fad, a trend, or a major movement, sketching has become common. Groups of them gather to sketch, socialize, and amaze the rest of us with many points of view from within one scene.

Sketching groups seem to be more like quilting groups, but without the need for eye strain, pricked fingers, and yards of fabric. I don’t sketch, but I’ve watched sketchers set up with a few pens, maybe some simple watercolors, and a sketch pad. Drinks frequently are included. Maybe that’s an advantage over quilting, a stain doesn’t ruin months of work unless it soaks an entire book.

Understanding personal finance can be intimidating. Few people are taught much more than how to balance a checkbook. Credit cards, mortgages and taxes are part of everyday life and most people sign up out of necessity instead of from deep understanding. Understanding the interplay of income, debt, and taxes is necessarily more complicated. Personal investing can be that much further removed until retirement becomes less abstract, at which time there isn’t as much time for it to work readily and easily.

I think everyone can handle most, and maybe all, of their personal finances. Ideally there are steps that could almost be mechanized if a person started back when they made their first dollar, peso, or euro. Realistically, even though I am a proponent of the 9-Step program and think Step 1 is a good place to start, it can make most sense to start with the piece that presents itself. Find that comfort zone, that easy sketch, and work from there.

I started without knowing it. A grandmother who had quiet investments in stocks and rental houses, frugal parents who didn’t spend more than they made but who weren’t afraid of necessary debt, and a high school bookkeeping class meant that I started my first professional job with the ability to live off one paycheck a month and invest the rest. By the time I read Your Money or Your Life I was mostly on my way to early retirement. Stepping through the 9 steps was more confirmation than illumination. I hire out the tougher parts like taxes.

To those under thirty, congratulations if you are already sketching out your personal finances and your plan. To everyone else, don’t be surprised if your life has already provided a few lessons, some resources, and accomplishments that can provide a prepared canvas, a foundation from which you can draw a personal masterpiece. The most important step to take is the next one, even if it feels a bit sketchy.

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Tough Act

Posted on August 17, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Pardon me as I share a comment from my Facebook wall (friend me).
“Tom, the fact you can be so honest and brave by writing your most personal life story is amazing to me.” What other choice do I have? The comment was tagged to the post, Whirling Dreams, which was about my reaction to the Triple Whammy of dismal performance of my three main stocks (AMSC, DNDN, MVIS). I could act tough and pretend that nothing was wrong and that the investing strategy in my book never falters. I could act totally relaxed and trust completely that the universe will provide. Instead I try, and evidently succeed at some level, to be honest about what happens in my life.
“All the world’s a stage . . . ” – As You Like It, William Shakespeare.
All the world may be a stage but I’ve played a part, worn a facade, in the past and I found that in the end that was a tough act.

For those of you who don’t follow links, the quick synopsis is that with eerie coincidence, my largest asset, DNDN, dropped 60% the same day that the markets began their major league hiccups. A portfolio that was poised to make significant progress towards “enough” turned the other way. My net worth dropped from several years of living expenses to a cause for concern. Most people assumed that my situation degraded because of the general market. Nope. One company missed earnings by 20% and the stock dropped 60%. My resumes began making the rounds (unsubtle plug: skills resume, chronological resume, artist resume). Keep passing those along folks.

I wasn’t a happy camper, unless I was camping (Hollyhock was nice). It is unsettling to be prepared for an uplift and get hit by a downdraft. Friends consoled me with unsolicited phone calls. Talking always makes it easier to get through tough times. Yet, many talked about how long it would take the market to recover. One aspect of my style of investing is that my portfolio’s swings, and therefore some of my emotional swings, are tied to companies and their stocks instead of the market. The advantage is that I don’t have to worry as much about global economics. The disadvantage is that companies small enough to be disconnected from the market typically undergo greater swings. I could act as if the swings didn’t affect me, but they do; and life is harder if I act as if they didn’t.

A couple of weeks have gone by. Psychologists can probably analyze the various emotional stages I’ve passed through. After last week at a think-tank event at Hollyhock, the internal chaos has subsided from hurricane-strength to merely a small-boat advisory. I didn’t want to look at the market, my portfolio, and even downplayed my book if the topic came up. Now though, I’ve poked my turtle head out of the shell and looked around.

The markets aren’t a happy place. To an amateur like me, it looks like storm clouds raging far overhead with occasional downbursts causing flooding and random lightning whose thunder reaches far beyond the strikes. The finance gods are warring and we’re only catching glimpses of the battles. All this because AAA became AA+? I was always happy when I got a single A. Something else must be going on.

My portfolio isn’t a happy place either. Some stocks are recovering, but unless my recovery happens sooner and stronger, or I find sufficient revenue elsewhere, I’ll be tapping into my IRA by the end of the year.

Ironically, when I lost confidence in my book, Dream. Invest. Live., sales happened. That was unexpected. The book was first printed just as the market crashed a few years ago. It was a bad time to finish and try to sell a book on personal investing based on an individual’s stock strategy. Oops.

A sale of my own book brought me back around. What was in there that I could use? How could I learn from myself?

One of the investing mantras I use around fellow stockholders is, “What’s the company worth?” The question usually comes up because a stock price is up or down, or because someone wants to buy or sell. My stocks were down, but what were the companies worth? A quick review convinced me that the companies were doing reasonably well. Each had a bit of bad news, but each bit of bad news was potentially temporary; and I felt that each company had entire potential product lines that weren’t reflected in the financial institution’s stock valuations. Even a reduced valuation was potentially more than enough, possibly, eventually for my portfolio to fund my lifestyle and more. My portfolio of companies was fine. The current value of my stock portfolio was the only problem.

Renewed confidence in myself and the future changed my outlook. Dream jobs exist, and my varied skills and ability to adapt mean I can be enthused about possibilities that range from engineering to art to advocacy to entrepreneurship to fill_in_the_blank. I also realize that smaller jobs, short but deep writing assignments, organizational consulting, facilitation, public speaking, etc. could be fun and satisfying and make a big improvement in my cash flow. Even my current projects in my books, photos, and classes can help significantly. Instead of living in fear I began to live within enthusiasm.

I don’t think I could have made that progress if I’d fallen into an act of toughing it out.

During one of the sessions at Hollyhock I had the opportunity to describe my response to the recent crisis. I made the point that my disruption was disassociated from the market turmoil. I’m sure my point didn’t register with the audience that ranged from struggling artists to major financiers. No matter. The main point I made was that in the process of living a frugal life I’ve had to understand my values, my skills, my needs, my wants, and where help is very handy. Living frugally is a glass-half-full life. To many it looks half-empty, but from within there’s an appreciation for what’s there. Asking those questions is tough. Answering those questions is empowering. Acting is replaced with action, and that can be fun.

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Generational Waves

Posted on August 13, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

My head feels like it just came off a boat ride. My balance is tuned to react to waves, so sitting still has an undercurrent of expected adjustments. This might be because I spent three hours on ferries yesterday on a thirteen hour trip from Cortes Island up in Canada down here to home on my island of Whidbey. The ride was smooth. My internal waves have more to do with my time at Hollyhock Resort on Cortes. Every year some friends gather as diverse a crowd as possible for almost a week of commiseration, consideration, and calls to action about the planet, its people, and our role in the world and the universe. Oh yeah, and it is a good party. Diversity extends across generations and it stretched and shaped every topic.

It is too easy to limit our social connections to reasonable facsimiles of ourselves. Community may contain diversity, but it is based on commonality. The internet has freed the flow of information, but many people use it to concentrate on their favorite topics and have discussions with agreeable people, from a personal perspective. Pittsburgh Steeler fans don’t suddenly became enraptured with cricket matches in Australia. Many conferences and gatherings are based on common topics, otherwise they would be exercises in chaos.

The folks I hung out with for the last week aren’t threatened by a bit of chaos. Some of them actively produce it. It makes for a good party, or at least a memorable one. It also makes for more memorable conversations.

There was a group exercise that concentrated on age diversity. Elders were paired with young folk and we shared our stories of change. What inspired our acceptance of change in our lives? Afterwards we sat down, but organized with the youngest at one end and the oldest at the other end of the hall. Much was talked about regarding the advantage of different perspectives. Comments ping-ponged from one side of the room to the other. A statement was made about the value of generational diversity, which was true, but it revealed a point by emphasizing the value to the extremities of age in the room. A hand went up in the middle.

What about us? The question wasn’t phrased that way. Maybe it was a comment instead, but the essence was the same. What about the middle-aged people that watched the ping-pong of ideas being tossed back and forth over their heads?

I enjoy the group that filled the hall because they do not balk at challenges. Simple social norms are easily modified and the conversation became more segmented as BabyBoomer, Gen X, Gen Y, Millenial, etc. Go find the links on your own because I find them arbitrary.

The intermediate groups pointed out that they are left out of many such discussions. The youth are emphasized because they are the greatest potential for change. That’s always been true and moreso now. Mentoring and other forms of support are directed at them because that is the most powerful way to change the world and improve the future. Baby boomers receive a lot of the spotlight because they aren’t babies anymore. They are the greatest source of experience, connections, and money – though even in such an open-minded crowd riches are talked about with euphemisms. Some of the comments from the middle ages (that’s a joke folks) were that they could use support and that they had much to offer too.

Many conversations reach to the extremes to define the bounds of an issue. It is a useful tool that I enjoy employing. But I am also an extreme independent moderate. I know, am certain, that the answer is most likely to be nearer the middle. Anything that only exists at its extremes is hollow. I’ve found the greatest value in the conversations happening back from the edge.

I sat there quietly. I know that I have much to offer, and that after last week’s DNDN collapse and my personal Triple Whammy I also could use support. Many others are in similar situations. But I kept quiet because I was reflecting on the group dynamic.

As the group attempted to include more people they added the labels I mentioned above, Gen X et al. Each slice segmented the crowd and enriched the debate. Some missed the Sixties and their dynamism. Some haven’t caught on to social media. Distinctions were made around technology or social change. Each slice through a specific date separated two individuals into this camp and that camp, us and them. It was necessary for the conversation, but I noticed that the line nearest me bounced back and forth from my left to my right. I didn’t feel integral to either.

Humanity has been counting generations for generations, but we don’t birth successors and descendants in sync or even in waves. We are a near-continuum of individual births.

Generations are a handy way to describe the general influences of major events: The Great Depression, World War II, The Cold War, The Sexual Revolution, Civil Rights, Watergate, The Collapse of the Soviet Union, etc.

Generational labels describe influence. They do not define individuals.

Everyone has something to offer. Everyone can use support. Young can teach old about new. Old can teach young about experience. And young and old can happen at any age – well there’s probably a line back about the cradle. Labels are abstractions and people are real. When two people connect, it isn’t two generations getting together. It is two individuals, and maybe one consciousness.

In the closing ceremony we were asked to allow at least one of our vulnerabilities to show. We were asked to describe one of our real needs without abstractions. Here I will pass along a simplified version of mine that may paraphrase those of many other people:
“I could use some help here and I’ve got a lot to offer.”

Of course, a little luck wouldn’t hurt. Where is that lottery ticket?

Oh yeah, and as for those waves – the Canadian ferries ride smooth. Do you think a week of parties might have something to do with the room softly settling?

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Unfortunately Common Ignorance

Posted on August 9, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

What in the world is going on? I won’t tell you. I’ve been out of easy communication for days, thanks to a trip to resort in Canada: Hollyhock. Just by chance I’m up here, out of the way, while enormous waves are tumbling through the financial world. Ironically, the visit is to coordinate and learn from as diverse a crowd as is practical. Even amongst veterans of the World Bank, financial institutions, wealth managers, investors, entrepreneurs, and advocates of alternative economies, no one knows exactly what’s going on. Ignorance is common.

These are not ignorant people. They are brilliant, educated, motivated, and passionate about finding sustainable solutions to many aspects of this world. The majority are not the money types. The majority are artists, philosophers, teachers, healers, and philanthropists. After listening to many of them, I think we may understand art and spirituality better than we understand money and the economy.

Money was invented to make life easier. Barter came first, but it has lots of limitations if more than two people or more than two villages are involved. Money was tangible, exchangeable, and non-perishable. Money was very handy for  trading between farmers, craftsfolk, and service providers. The local doctor wants to be paid in something more than only chickens.

Debt was also invented to make life easier. It enabled larger projects for businesses and better homes and education for people. My mortgage is why I have a house.

One of the topics we discussed was the nature of currency and debt and how that all plays into our lives. it is a diverse group and multi-national so the distinctions between capitalism, marxism, democracy, aristocracy and a few other -cracies made for a fascinating discussion. There were some intriguing combinations present. If nothing else, I enjoyed the notion of the marxist-entrepreneur. One person even pointed out the fact that the pyramids and cathedrals were funded by economies that worked with perishable currency. I’ll take his word for it, but despite the resulting impressive infrastructure, I’m not interested in societies ruled by pharaohs or kings.

Everyone that talked started their discourse with the variations on the same caveat, “Well, I don’t understand everything that’s going on, but I can tell you about this . . . ” Ego or not, impressive credentials or not, wealthy or not, no one felt comfortable claiming sufficient comprehensive knowledge of how money, debt, economics, and governmental policy are entwined. It was also obvious that these folks were smarter than the average legislator or senator. If such a group of experts can’t claim expertise, then what chance is there for solutions to come from government?

The first session pointed a lot of blame outside the room. Government, financial institutions, cabals, conspirators, and vague references to “them” were easy targets. It was their fault.

An unrelated session talked about people who stood up in situations that seemed hopeless and futile with too few resources and too little expertise, yet they succeeded. They succeeded because they took personal responsibility.

We had a second session. Placing blame got nothing done, except to raise the anxiety level. We decided to get positive and get responsible. What could we do? Did anyone have first hand experience implementing at least partial solutions.?

The ignorance was gone. The energy came back. Solutions ranged from using subtle pressure to swing corporate policies, down through mid-level socially responsible venture capitalism, down to community currencies and cooperative exchanges, down to the power of individual introspection into personal values and actions.

I’ve blogged about some of the direct actions I’ve taken. As time allows I’ll blog about the others.

The key was that while no one can understand or therefore explain the current crisis, all of us can do something that makes the situation better. If you earn money, if you spend money, if you maintain a household, if you have a job, you can affect change. Look to those changes that are in, and especially along the borders of, your comfort zone. Courageous types can go beyond, but their courage also means that they have fluid definitions of comfort.

On a personal level, I recommend going back to the roots of financial responsibility that I listed in my book,
“Invest for the future. Pay yourself first. Diversify. Think long term. Get started now. Don’t spend more than you make. Put some away for a rainy day. Don’t try to get rich quick. Slow and steady wins the race. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
When I feel that the world is out of control, I remind myself that, whether that is true or not, I always have some part of my life that I can control; and then I find ways to empower myself from within that.

Amidst my financial turmoil, which has little to do with global economics, I know that by living frugally and my understanding my skills, talent and experience, I can make many good things possible. There are no guarantees, and that goes both ways. There are no guarantees that the crisis will be catastrophic, despite what the media portrays. There are no guarantees that our current institutions and their solutions will survive or prove to be fruitful. And I find it fascinating and unfortunate that it is common for people to be ignorant of the power they possess, yet personal action has the surest guarantee of all the options.

Be uncommon.
(And if you need a starting place, cruise over to The New Road Map Foundation or the Simple Living Forums. There are people who want to help because they like to help.)

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Whirling Dreams

Posted on August 6, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Life without dreams is a lot of goal-less work. The financial turmoil has shelved lots of dreams, American and otherwise. This blog is inspired by my book, Dream. Invest. Live., and I admit reluctance to pointing that out. Two years ago may not have been the best time to publish a book about personal finance. But I also believe that challenges aren’t to be avoided. So I’m taking my own title as advice and going back to word one in the title: Dream – as starting over.

I am a long term optimist and a short term realist. The country is in better shape than the government. People are becoming more resourceful. Companies are making money, and regardless of economic statistics, are evidently hiring because I see friends shifting careers and breaking out of ugly situations. In the long term, we, because the government is us, we, will fix our problems. In the short term, dysfunctional institutions have yet to dissolve and emotions have yet to abate, so I am looking for a good job while this turmoil swirls down. (unsubtle plug: skills resume, chronological resume, artist resume)

Sleep happens, even in tumultuous times, and dreams do too. Describing dreams is always risky because the dreamer replays the imagery and symbolism while searching for words that might capture the concepts, but the listener only hears the words which may weave a different and unexpected tale. Let’s see how well I do. This week I had two dreams. In the first I was inside a rust-belt industrial shop as the floor turned into a whirlpool. A couple of people were staring at and concentrating on the center, and were being pulled into the vortex. I didn’t want to get sucked into that, turned the other way, saw a window and jumped through two panes of glass to escape as the floor began to move beneath me. I don’t know if they followed me.The second dream was completely different. George W. Bush dropped by to convince me to take the job of Aide and Advisory to the British Prime Minister. Different dreams but a common theme: my best path may be in unexpected directions. (But really, George Bush? Where’d that come from?)

This week measured my optimism. Despite the fact that my net worth dropped by half, a stock market recovery is delayed by quarters, and my country’s credit rating has dropped to AA+, after an initial total body shudder I saw an opportunity for the universe to amaze me. That shudder was significant. Gastro-intenstinal distress is annoying. The next day I surprised myself. Rather than looking at what could go wrong, I looked at what could go right. I was amazed at the possibilities. (Someone suggested I get a job as a part-time CFO. That would be fun. Then I found a job for a rocket aerodynamicist. Yep. And there was that possibility of a job on the island . . . )

There will always be an American Dream. We may mourn the evaporation of the dream of suburban or ex-urban home ownership, but that dream was recent. It came with expectations of hard work resulting in tangible benefits. Prior to that, during the Depression, hard work didn’t seem to show a benefit, merely survival. Dreams took a nap for a while. Scroll back before the Depression and the dream was of quick wealth in the Roaring Twenties. Prior to that the dream was the dream of homesteading. The home wasn’t as important as the land. The United States of America was a dream of democracy, though packaged as a republic. The first Europeans saw the American continent as opportunity to escape from the constraints of aristocracy and theocracy.

Dreams change as we live. Life is what happens while you are making plans. Especially in times like these, plans change, life changes, dreams change.

People’s dreams seem to be shifting to eliminating excess, aiming for sustainability, and finding values in themselves rather than in institutions. Or maybe that’s just what I see because I live on an island. Islanders are resourceful because islands have limited resources. Islanders frequently move to islands to live lives away from the mainstream. I see the shift here, but I hear about it otherwhere too.

The world seems to be in a whirl. America’s bond rating has dropped for the first time. The climate is swinging through unseen extremes with little chance of settling into something that meets our predictions. Power centers are in motion and are harder to track despite the great visibility within the information age.

Trying to understand the grand and global shifts can be futile and headache-inducing. That’s too much to shove into one skull. I guess, but I don’t worry, because I know I can’t know every nuance and possibility. I can, however, find enough to fit within one skull. I start by thinking about one life, mine. What do I need? What do I want? What do I have? What else do I need to do? Me first is not a long term strategy, but in a disaster even the Red Cross advises people to make sure they and their immediate environment are safe first. If you’re already in the lifeboat it’s easier to save others.

In times of stress the human body can withdraw into the fetal position. That only works if the crisis is short and life returns to normal. Laying still may not be safe. Standing still may not be safe. Finding a new dream or revising an existing one can point me in a new direction that turns crisis into opportunity.

The universe may amaze me, but I might have to dream a bit different, think a bit different, and look in new directions. Does anyone have a good link for the job of Aide and Advisory to the British Prime Minister? I’d give it a whirl.

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Triple Whammy

Posted on August 4, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Triple whammies hurt, even when they are more like two whammies and a flounder. The beginning of August has been atrocious for my portfolio. Dendreon missed its numbers and the stock, DNDN, tanked. My net worth dropped about half and my semi-sustainable lifestyle is at least temporarily threatened. It’s time to look for a job.

I wrote the book Dream. Invest. Live. because I have decades of experience in stock investing. My investing has enabled a return to college, houses, early retirement, and a new career. Friends pointed out that I could explain personal finance and investing in practical terms, so rather than continually answer questions verbally, maybe I could put them into a book. I did. The basis of the book wasn’t just investing though. Investing is teamed with optimism and frugality. Frugality makes early retirement more likely and more sustainable. Looking at companies frugally provides a perspective that makes personal investing easier.

Investing can be made easy, but it can not be made risk-free. That’s true of stocks, bonds, anything.

I prefer a diversified portfolio, and I tend to invest in companies that I can understand but that may be mis-understood by the mainstream financial institutions. My strategy gives me the opportunity to buy companies when they are small and sell them when they have grown large, and their stocks have finally caught up with the company’s value. It is a risky way to invest though because stocks are risky and misunderstood stocks swing more wildly through the market. A diversified portfolio lessens the chance that they’ll all be down at the same time and increases the chance that some will be up when the others are down.

The chances worked against me. My three most prominent holdings, AMSC, DNDN, and MVIS are all down at the same time. Each has had recent bad news. In each case I think the market has over-reacted, but the market is tending to over-react because fear is peddled in massive quantities since 9/11. The details of each story can fill this blog, but I’ll direct you to my post, “Semi-Annual Exercise“, which has links to the pertinent discussion boards.

I am an optimist. I think American Superconductor will probably see the delayed orders restarted and the superconducting cable business or its other projects begin to generate revenue. I think Dendreon is onto a major innovation in biotech, but the change is so dramatic that medical and insurance institutions are finding holes in their understanding of the treatment. The rest of the pipeline is being treated as if it was worth nothing, which is probably not the case. Microvsion sits and waits for a cheap green laser, which existed but wasn’t cheap enough, and then was delayed, but is hopefully ready any month now.

In the meantime my bills must be paid, and my years of saved living expenses has drastically diminished. Don’t worry too much. Even amidst this dismal period I have enough to take care of bills for at least a few years, especially if my books sell (the other ones have nothing to do with finance), or my photos sell, or if my classes continue to do well. Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I have many “Lines In The Water”. But for now, those revenue streams aren’t enough to pay my mortgage. Very soon I may have to dip into my IRA, years ahead of time; and unfortunately, my IRA is basically those stocks I just described. Maybe they’ll come back. Maybe GGOX.OB will come through strong.

Times like these are when frugality is a comfort. I know what my expenses are. I know what I can cut back. A frugal lifestyle means that it won’t take much money to make a big difference. A job that pays as well as my time as an engineer would dramatically re-establish my comfort level.

I blog because the content of any finance book rapidly ages, with few exceptions. I blog because personal finance can sound abstract and distant, and I think it is important to show the reality, both good and bad. The best way to do that for me is to pass along my experiences. I also blog to openly disclose what I’ve done and how it’s affected me. I don’t want to hide, though I also don’t want to look at my portfolio right now either.

This has not been a pleasant experience. My emotions have churned my stomach and my thoughts have contributed to a headache, but I recognize that it is all temporary. For many stockholders, their reactions are more severe. Some will be scared away from stock forever. That’s why I emphasize that very few people should invest in stocks, but that those who have the skills and particular flavor of fortitude necessary can find a way to possibly fund their life. DNDN went down over $22. The possible range of news could have equally likely risen the stock that much. I’ve got champagne for that.

As I wrote this a friend replied within an email thread. She was checking on how I was doing. I mentioned that with everything going on in my life, “I give the universe the opportunity to positively amaze me. ” She agreed, and she plans to amaze the universe. That’s optimism plus.

To any stockholders in AMSC, DNDN, MVIS, or other beaten-down stocks, I sympathize. To anyone considering investing in stocks, check your risk tolerance. And as I write this I realized that, despite such a dramatic drop in DNDN, the price is above what I paid. I’ve been down here before and I now know the path that we may travel again.

In the meantime, if you know of a good job that could use the skills of a writer/photographer/speaker/innovator/ex-aerospace-engineer, send me a note. And I’ll fire up the word processor and update my resume.

“Never give up. Never surrender” – Galaxy Quest

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An Explicable Life

Posted on August 3, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

How do you answer the question, “So, what do you do?” Your answer, and how long it takes you to think of it, can tell a lot about your sense of identity. That’s not a typical daily concern, but people who’ve left the world of paychecks can find the answer comes uncertainly and slowly. Living frugally may allow early retirement, but using the word retirement may hijack the discussion. What do I do? Allow me to explain.

“Allow me to explain” is a bad answer. The person that asked probably wanted a job title (engineer), and would probably accept a role (American), or a passion (dancer). I retired, or at least left paycheck employment based on sufficient resources for a comfortably sustainable lifestyle, about 13 years ago. (Pardon a personal moment as I let that sink in yet again. – Whoa.) Retired is the wrong word. Since I left Boeing I’ve taught karate though now I only train myself, written five books and continue to write more, sold my photos and continue to sell more, helped people start or steer businesses, aided various official charities and have been unofficially charitable, taught various classes and given a variety of public talks, and am probably overlooking something but don’t want to spend time being complete. You probably got the point earlier in the paragraph and skipped past a lot of the details. If you continued reading though, go check out my bio for more. The answer isn’t concise because my life doesn’t fit under one label.

Many “retired” people have the same issue. Our society and civilization are changing and we need a new vocabulary. We’re living longer. We’re living longer than our occupations and sometimes our relationships too. Retired was originally a very short period. When it lasts a few years, retired is a good enough label. After a decade or so though people with passion have probably found a new vocation or an avid avocation. If the new activity makes money, does the “retired” label stick?

Labels and vocabulary also fail at describing modern relationships. A few decades ago divorces were uncommon and scandalous. Empowerment, empty-nesting, decayed support networks mean marriages aren’t as permanent and the frequency of divorce worn down the stigma. What does a middle-aged single person call themself? What’s even more confusing is what do middle-aged unmarried couples call themselves? Spouse sounds like married. Partner sounds like a business relationship. Significant other has too many syllables and is emotionally limp.

In the last week or so I’ve finished the photo essay Twelve Months at Penn Cove, scheduled to teach classes in Modern Self-Publishing and Creating Your Photo Book, been interviewed on KWPA radio about my book Twelve Months at Merritt Lake, held meetings for new ventures like island movie productions and classes in Social Media for Artists, and have finished and shipped two self-published books (one is private for my family, one is semi-private for students in my Modern Self-Publishing class). That list skips the volunteer and charity work. Over the weekend someone asked me what I do and even I noticed my pause.

I’m a single guy. Being a guy I can claim oblivious manners. After I’m seen with a single woman I’m asked if it was a date, or if is she my girl-friend, or some question equally expected to be answered with simple labels. That’s when I step into oblivious mode and answer that I don’t know. My vocabulary fails.

Mostly what I don’t know is how to simply explain a self-defined lifestyle. I’m not alone. Many people through intent or circumstance are changing occupations and relationships. These have not been easy times for most. My transitions weren’t easy either.

When I left Boeing, I quickly learned that calling myself retired upset conversations. The common challenges were, “You’re not old enough to be retired.”, or “Well, you must have been lucky.” In the first case they didn’t accept that retirement is based on money not age. In the second case they didn’t believe that conscious frugality existed or could succeed.

After my first book I used the title, writer. People have low and broad expectations of writers and they’d continue the conversation with that neat answer inserted in the blank. When I started selling my photographs I switched to writer and photographer, but that didn’t last long because it had too many syllables. Now I pick whichever one I want: writer, photographer, or even artist. All of them fit that blank and fit people’s impressions of my lifestyle and lack of fashion sense. Some friends and colleagues have also supplied a couple of labels I enjoy: social innovator and instigator. Dancer fits too, but all of these other labels end up with more explanations than are comfortable within most conversations.

Our labels have power over our perceptions. I realize that labels are arbitrary and merely language constructs, but I admit that calling myself an artist, or a karate instructor, or an ex-rocket-scientist subtly shifts my attitude. Fortunately, I have a good transmission because I shift that attitude and perception frequently. I don’t get stuck in ruts for long.

A frugal life, a conscious life, an artistic life, is a personal life, but we are social creatures which means that we’re expected to live explicable lives. So, I pick a labels that almost fit. I don’t sew them on or get them tattooed. Instead I wear them like costumes, something that doesn’t shock the neighbors, fits and covers well enough, and may have nothing to do with the body inside.

Now, it’s time for me to switch from being a blogger to being a runner and then I’ll be a bill-payer and then a diner and then a photographer and then a homeowner and then, and then . . .

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Island Time

Posted on July 30, 2011 by Tom Trimbath

Whidbey is finally experiencing a day of summer. The clouds burned off. The sun dried the lawn. The windows and doors are open. It’s Saturday, and a fine day for feeling lazy. I’ve been so busy that I’m going to take this lazy man’s approach to today’s blog post and simply tell you what the last day’s been like living on island time.

Move to Whidbey, and probably other islands too, and you’ll hear about island time. Things get done, but they follow a different pace. It’s easy to assume things always move slower, but that isn’t right either. Most things move more slowly. Some of the most auspicious happen without warning.

Summer is the easiest season to see the difference between island time and American Standard. Year-round residents move along like diesels, steady and sure, and confident they’ll get to where they’re going. Visitors, weekenders, tourists, lost souls, raise the average energy. Horns honk. Car alarms wail. Harley’s rumble. Cell phones chatter. Sitting on my front deck I can easily hear conversations from five houses away. They, and this is an us and them thing, they have conversations in tones that would carry over sirens and traffic noise. There’s not much need for that when the loudest thing in the neighborhood is a flock of birds. All that extra noise and energy can’t sit still and a freneticism develops.

I live on the island. When I moved here I expected to head back to the mainland (aka Merika) at least once a week. Except for hiking, it’s become more like once a month or two. The culture shock is obvious.

Island time is not a philosophical choice. It is not an attitude imposed on the island by its residents. Island impose a lifestyle. Almost every road is two lanes with few passing zones. Pick the pace you want, but you’re probably going to spend a fair amount of time behind some vehicle that can’t go faster and that you can’t pass. Relax. You’re headed the same way. You’ll get there. Besides, it’s an island so to get really lost you’d have to cross a ferry or the one bridge. Where ever you’re trying to get to isn’t going anywhere. The ferries can be a reason to rush, but the chance for a speeding ticket usually isn’t worth getting to the terminal on time. There’ll be another one along shortly, or not at all. You can’t change that, and for all you know, the next run might be cancelled, or the lot is already full, or the schedule is slid because they had to steer around the whales. Leaving early to beat the crowd is a relative thing considering that the distance between any event and its parking spaces is less than half the length of any Merikan shopping mall. I will, however, get to The Clyde early (almost first run movies for only $6 + $1 popcorn), but that’s because I have a favorite writing seat in the back row.

Life on the mainland could work the same way, but there are competitive pressures. There’s always another lane to change to in the hope of getting ahead. Besides, cutting through traffic is weaving through strangers. They’ll probably never see you again. They’ll never know what they did to your blood pressure. Make your own career analogies.

Cut someone off on the island and they’ll recognize your car or your bumper sticker. It might even be news in the police blotter. Blue SUV with five bumper stickers and a fishing pole in back passed on the right . . . (Fictionalized for community harmony.)

Last night was Friday night. Downtown Langley had the Second Street Market where a couple of dozen artists, farmers, and shops set up tents in one block of the two main streets. They even had to post Detour signs. Gasp. I’d forgotten about it but happily stumbled into it on my way to meet with one media mogul (Hollywood style) and then had to walk through it again on the way to meet another media mogul (digital era). It was all relaxed and casual, running on island time, but it wasn’t lazy. The Market seemed to pop into existence, though I am sure someone was quietly working on it for a long time prior to it’s inaugural event. In that regard it’s probably like the Bailey Saturday Art Market that I helped initiate: a small idea kicked around for weeks or months that suddenly becomes established.

My two Friday evening meetings happened simply and easily. A casual encounter in a gallery led to an idea for the first. A chance comment amongst another group led to another. I’ve watched similar events occur back when I lived in Merika, but they were dismissed rather than emphasized. At the same time as those meetings I was missing out on another meeting that was equally interesting, but choices must be made and I only found out about the other one after commitments were made. No matter. It all works out. The one meeting was in a great coffee shop that turns into a BBQ joint at 5PM. The other was in the first sustainable tavern Langley’s had since the waterfront one shut down. The Dog House was great, but it’s tough to sell a bar on premium waterfront property. It would take a lot of beer to pay for that place. Instead we sat outside Mo’s (which doesn’t have a web site despite being across the street from the Center for New Media), a couple blocks back from the water, but right along two popular pedestrian routes. We sat there to organize one event (more later) but had at least a half dozen passing conversations with friends and with variations of “Hey, send me an email about that when you get home. I think I might have something that’ll help.”

Island time looks relaxed and casual, and it is at its artistic perfection; but it isn’t the different pace that’s as noticeable to me. What’s apparent to me is the acceptance of things as they are and awareness of common goals and complementary skills. There’s a recognition that fastest isn’t always best and may not get things accomplished soonest. Enabling is more time and energy efficient than forcing. There’s a frugality based on respect of time, limited resources, and impressive human talents. And what goes around comes around and that that’s much more obvious on an island where that return trip is pretty quick.

This morning I led a took a break from selling my photos at the Bailey Saturday Art Market because I was tour guide for the local land trust property called Hammon’s Preserve. Yes, it is possible to spend two hours touring a 9.5 acre ex-farm when the people in the group are actively interested in what’s happening in their neighborhood. That and it was free. Islanders can be easy to entertain.

Island time can happen anywhere, but the individual actions get lost in the crowds of a city. A city has all of the same possibilities and events as an island because both are inhabited by humans, a very social species. But at least here on Whidbey, it’s easier to respect each other because we get to know each other and because an action’s consequences are much more apparent. That can happen anywhere, and I’m glad I’ve found it here.

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