Dear friends, looking over many of your holiday cards inspired me to reflect on 2021 and revisit my intentions for the new year. Even though it’s no longer the holidays, I wanted to share a little with you about what’s been happening in my world and some of the images I was able to capture this last year (better late than never!). 

Thank you for caring. I hope that I’m able to connect in meaningful ways with each of you in 2022. 

With love and appreciation,

Tim

A Year of Transitions: (1) My National Parks Journey 

For the last three years I’ve essentially lived in America’s National Parks. After taking tens of thousands of photos, driving thousands of miles, wearing through multiple pairs of hiking boots, and surviving two near-death experiences – I (nearly) finished my quest to explore and photograph all of America’s 63 National Parks this year. (American Samoa – someday I’ll see you if Covid ever ends…)

Looking back at the moment when I was promoted in the fall of 2018 to a corner office, I never could have imagined that just months later I’d embark on a journey that’d keep my constantly outside for the next 3 years. I feel so grateful that life has been so much bigger than the span of my imagination then. This journey has been one of the most meaningful and transformative experiences of my life. 

As I’ve neared its end, I’ve been reflecting a lot on what it’s meant and what I want to take with me to whatever is next. I took a first stab at collecting my thoughts in June when I was asked to give a speech to a group in Minnesota this summer. After multiple emotional meltdowns trying to write my speech, I was finally able to pull something together that made me feel really proud. If you’re curious, here is a link to the transcript and the images I shared. 

The speech not only helped me clarify my thinking; it also inspired me to finally start selling some of my photographs. I’ve been so grateful for the outpouring of support since I started doing so. I feel especially proud when I see photos I took up on friend’s walls. If you’re curious about buying one, don’t be shy about reaching out. Or, I list my photos and prices here: Tim’s photographic prints. 

This year, I traveled to fewer places than in prior years, but I was able to linger longer at the places I went. Two trips meant the most to me. The first was the week I spent in Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Parks in May. It felt equally sacred to sit beneath the giants and to climb up into so many remote parts of the high Sierras that I know were special to John Muir.

The second was the six weeks I spent in Alaska backcountry backpacking and kayaking in five different National Parks (nearly all it completely off the grid). Three particularly unforgettable moments were:

(1) The three “bonus” days five friends and I got at the end of a five-night wilderness expedition in Lake Clark National Park, when the bush plane that was coming to pick us up couldn’t land due to weather. As we waited in our tents, not knowing whether it’d be hours or days until help came, we attempted to stay dry (and sane), while splitting one granola bar a day. On the plus side, we all got an ascetic mediation retreat with a non-optional fast (for free!).

(2) 8 days-worth of grizzly bear run-ins (and an earthquake to boot!) while exploring the snow-capped peaks and volcanic wasteland of The Valley of 10,000 Smokes in Katmai National Park.

(3) Camping with a small group of fellow adventurers near the face of the John’s Hopkin’s glacier in Glacier Bay National Park. That evening was the culmination of a weeks-long sea kayaking trip, one where just about everything that could go wrong, did. Day one: our drop off boat broke down. Day two: a once in a generation “atmospheric river” dumped driving rain on us. The downpour lasted for days on end. Together, these events forced us to paddle 40 more miles (in fewer days) than originally planned. Day four: we helped rescue a group of other kayakers. Day 5: 6-foot swells nearly capsized our kayak miles from the nearest shore. Despite all the mishaps, of all 60+ parks, the memories from that week are among my most precious. I’ll never forget hearing the rocket-boom of the glacier calving through the night that we slept by her face; touching the giant bergs that washed ashore by our tents each morning; or seeing the 40-foot back of a Humpback emerge silently from the water to take a breath, coming up literally feet from where we were cooking dinner.

After spending so much time in the wilderness these last three years, sometimes it’s hard to feel fully “at home” in civilization anymore. A part of my soul is always longing to be away from the sounds of human society, somewhere deep in the mountains. At the same time, my time in the parks has also taught me better how to seek (and savor) what is beautiful in every moment, no matter where I am. As I move into 2022, I am trying to honor both of these truths at once. 

(2) Moving to Austin

While I’m still living in the midst of many questions about the future, some things have become very clear to me this past year — for one, just how much I value my relationship with Morgan. In April, I decided to pack up my few remaining physical belongings, and move down to Austin, Texas to be with her.

Even though it lacks proper mountains, moving to Austin has been a wonderful experience. I never thought I’d be a Texan, but I do relish the fact that I can use the word “y’all” unironically. So, if y’all are ever traveling through, please let us know!

But seriously, Austin is a great city with so many outdoor spaces, young creative people, quirky stores, and cheap(ish) restaurants. Real estate prices are outrageous (half of the Bay Area’s tech millionaires seemed to have moved here in 2021), but despite that we were fortunate to find an apartment with lots of natural light and old trees, and more importantly, it’s near many of our soul-filled friends. 

More than the place, I feel so grateful to be able to share my life with someone again in a way that feels “easy”. Sharing life has also been the source of a lot of healing, especially of wounds I didn’t even know I was carrying. For so long, I thought it was my responsibility to take care of my baggage alone. This year together has taught me again and again that so much growth is only possible within a committed and secure relationship.

Another joy of moving to Texas has been becoming a dog-father to two adorable 40-pound pups: Cody and Moon. Most days begin with Moon waking me up by jumping on me, and end with Cody curling up on my lap. The dogs are awkward, adorable, naughty, and playful, and they steal my heart multiple times every day.

(3) Vocation

At the beginning of the year, knowing my parks journey was winding to a close, I felt a lot internal pressure to decide “what’s next” career wise. Initially, I thought it’d make sense to continue seeing coaching clients part-time (like I did in 2020), and then use the extra hours to write a book about the Parks. 

Unfortunately, every time I sat down to write a blog post (let alone the book!) I’ve felt stuck. After months of banging my head against the wall, Morgan kindly suggested that I not to be so hard on myself. “Perhaps you need to further integrate what you’ve learned on the journey into your life first” she suggested.

I’m trusting that nudge, both for spiritual reasons, but also for earthlier ones, like, you knowing… paying the bills. Joking aside, as frustrating as my writer’s block has been, it’s also been a blessing, because it created space for me to work on a number of unexpected projects, all of which have been quite meaningful (and healing to wounds that were created in my old career).

Looking back, 2014-2018 were extremely painful years in my work world. By the time I left private equity in early 2019, I felt burnt out, self-doubting, and cynical about the value of anything in finance. I thought the best path forward was to reinvent myself and move on as quickly as possible. My aversion was so strong that for a long time whenever I met a new person, I’d simply refuse to talk about what I used to do. In retrospect, I’m thankful that my rejection of my old identity created the space I needed to explore, play, and grow. However, I now see that it also meant I exiled important parts of who I am too. Thankfully, I was given a chance to re-integrate and honor some parts of myself this year. 

It all started serendipitously when a close friend decided to launch a Venture Capital firm last winter (Avalanche VC). Perhaps because Katelyn’s been in a similar, multi-year process of self-discovery and reinvention, it felt safe to engage with her (with all of who I am) when she asked me to help her think through a few issues about starting her business. A few weeks later, one of my coaching clients told me he needed help working through some sticky corporate governance topics at the company he founded.

As I began digging into their situations, fairly quickly I realized four truths. One, I actually learned a lot from my years on Wall Street that’s valuable to small business owners. Two, the coaching work I’ve been doing is a perfect complement to the hard skills I had before in the corporate setting. Three, I love figuring out the nuances of messy business situations. And four, it’s so energizing to work with people who share my values. 

Together, these experiences and insights gave me the confidence to seek out other engagements. Throughout the rest of the year, I’ve been lucky to work with companies as different as Juv (a Gen-Z marketing agency and brand consultancy), Grantable (an online marketplace for grant writers and grant applicants), a creator of online content and community for musicians, a gym in Texas, a global children’s product company, and even a high-end fashion brand in Europe. Each situation has looked different, ranging from helping founders work through the practical (and emotional) aspects of shareholder disputes, capital raises, strategic planning, and business sales. However, what’s been the same in each is that I’ve loved the work and the people I’ve gotten to know through it. For the first time in my life I can say in full honesty - I love what I do. (What a difference 3 years can make!)

Concurrently, Morgan (who runs a psychotherapy private practice and trains other therapists) and I started two groups this year. The first is a group for entrepreneurs to be talk through the the emotional and psychological issues impacting their business in a safe community. The second is a group training for executive and life coaches, to help them learn the foundations of Internal Family Systems, Interpersonal Neurobiology, and Non-Violent Communications.

Looking ahead, I don’t know fully know what 2022 will look like. A number of my big corporate client projects are nearing completion. A few others are starting to ramp up. I’d still like to get 2-3 more individual coaching clients. But, rather than try to predict the future, this year taught me to trust the process. If I keep having the right conversations, keep learning new skills, keep offering what I know to others with humility, I know the right opportunities will continue to emerge. If you know anyone that you think would make sense for me to talk to, I always appreciate referrals.

2022: more transitions ahead 

2021 was full of big transitions. As I look ahead to important decisions in both my personal and professional life looming, I expect 2022 to be as full of change as 2021.  

Whatever happens, today, as I write this, I feel very present to the truth that life does not go on forever. More than ever, I want to only give my attention to the things that really matter — so much of which is relational.

So, I want to end this reflection by saying how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for caring so deeply about me and my journey through this life. Wherever the path leads in 2022, I feel so thankful knowing I am loved and supported by so many extraordinary people.

With gratitude and love,

Tim G

P.S. below are a few pictures of some the wonderful people who’ve walked beside me through the parks this past year.