66 Days - Mining Salt, Building Mountains, and Chasing Rabbits

Sunday Gravy #7

My first Substack post was 66 days ago. This post is coming from a significantly different headspace than my first one, which I’m happy about. Ahead lie my takeaways so far, some weekly highlights, and one ugly duckling. Welcome to another weekly recap, dubbed Sunday Gravy.

Time seemed to be flying by when I wrote that. I also felt like I had nothing to show for it. I definitely had done a lot, but that’s not how it seemed. There was nothing “monumental”… just a lot of smaller (still important) things that I was forgetting. It felt like the yearly performance report I write at work… I don’t track any accomplishments for 12 months, try to remember them all at once, and get annoyed when it seems like all I’ve done is keep a desk warm.

My Substack takeaways so far:

1) It’s a salt mine

I’ve got 23 subscribers - 8 of which I know personally and the other 15 are complete strangers. Yet, somehow, those 23 subscribers feel like more than the 970 followers I have on Instagram (been tryna hit that 1k mark forever). Instagram is great in a lot of ways, but it’s got just as many downsides. I won’t air my social media gripes here. I assume you probably feel the same if you’re on Substack. I get more genuine interaction from strangers on this platform than I do anywhere else. It’s a game of quality over quantity, and I think that’s due to 2 things:

1. The long form content. If you want to appreciate and enjoy Substack, you have to read. You have to be intentional to some degree. You can’t scroll, look for 2 seconds, double tap the screen and be on your way. There’s no immediate satisfaction, which leads me to my second point.

2. Substack users want to be here. It’s not a household platform the way Instagram is. You’re not here because everyone else is. If you’re here, you made a choice to seek out value in some form or another.

I genuinely enjoying reading the publications I subscribe to. My reading list grows faster than I can whittle it down (again, it takes time and effort), but it’s much more enjoyable than other platforms I’ve grown so accustomed to. I save peoples’ posts for later… I make mental notes of who wrote what… I put little mental bookmarks down when someone uses a catchy title or a cool picture.

The salt of the earth is here - good, interesting, creative people sharing their perspectives. You learn more about a person through their writing than you do through an Instagram post… personality comes out in prose, and passions bubble up through chosen topics. I’m not even personally invested in some of the topics I read about… I just like a certain writing style or witty humor (there’s plenty of people writing about the things I do like, too). You can write about any damn thing you want and someone is bound to appreciate it.

You have to work this salt mine to find people and publications you’re interested in, but that makes it rewarding. It’s intentional - a nice switch up from all the shit that dominates today’s world.

2) It cultivates creation and builds mountains.

Consume good content and you’ll strive to create good content. Inspiration is infectious. I’ve found that to be the case so far. My goal is to build a mountain of my work, for no other reason than the fact that I want to and can… so I can revisit this in another 60 days and proudly hang my hat on it. Not a task to be completed overnight. Slow, gradual progress. Like tectonic plates.

3) It keeps me on track

Everything you want to try or do becomes realer when other people know about it. Keeping it to yourself is the best way of making sure you don’t follow through.

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The man who chases two rabbits catches neither

But sometimes you have to. It’s not realistic to focus on a sole thing. You want to do what’s fun and you have to do what’s necessary - they don’t always overlap. That’s why people say “life gets in the way”. What I’ve been learning lately is that life is not getting in the way of anything, it’s simply just happening. It’ll keep happening too.

I’ve been rebuilding the motorcycle I wrote about in the first Sunday Gravy feature. It’s gotta be ready for a big upcoming trip. It’s been a fun, yet incredibly stressful, process for the past few months. Stressful because I don’t have my two usual motorcycle comforts - knowledgeable friends and a dedicated workshop to wrench and hang out in. I’m working out of a makerspace… there’s people coming in and out, classes going on, and a million distractions. It’s also 45 minutes away from my apartment and I can only work there on limited hours. Balance that with work and you’ve got 2 full time jobs. I’ve spent a lot of miserably hot weekends sweating and baking in the sun (but I have a sweet tan now). Oddly, those are all the reasons it’s been so fun too. I’m relying on myself. The times you’re without help will humble you. They’ll give give you an honest look at yourself - a necessary exercise to bridge the gap between where you are and where you want to be.

I’ve been working on just about every piece of this bike. Seeing them disassembled, some decorating my apartment, was a constant reminder of how much work I had to do. It’s daunting. It’s why so many people lose steam on projects… but finishing something washes all the longstanding frustrations and stresses out of your mind. It’s a fucking grind, and the time to reach that finish seems completely erratic. Like you’re in a tunnel looking at a distant light. Then one day that light takes you by surprise and you’re standing outside. It should be no surprise. You put in the work to get there. It doesn’t matter how many rabbits you chase, only that you do it with gusto.

Here’s a glimpse of the past few months building what I like to call The Midnight Runner:

bare bones

frequent runs to the parts store

The Midnight Runner. Yeehaw

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Here’s exactly what I listened to while writing this. And a burger from a local joint.

I love finding new music and places to eat. I’ll take a one-off joint over a chain any day. It’s part of getting to know your city and the people in it.

Cheers to you. I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for reading.