We're explorers by nature, a feature of insatiable curiosity. 

While curiosity has many merits, such as expanding your field of awareness and keeping your mind agile. It must be managed to be helpful. Curiosity without constraints is just epiphany huffing. 

For us, a healthy life is balanced between curious, exploratory openings and regimented periods of focus. Our work follows this format. At a more macro level, our life follows this format. A perpetual cycle of divergence and convergence. We roam and come home. 

Our Portland era was one of those exploratory arcs. It could not be further from how we grew up; it was amazing. At the end of this year, we started coming back home. Not to our literal home but to our roots. To take what we've learned in this exploratory period into a focused next chapter. 

Home is more than a single location. Neither of our families lives where we grew up. Home has always been particularly confusing for me, as I lived in five different states before University. My extended family being an Air Force family makes a sense of home even more stratified across generations. For example, my father was born in South Carolina, and my mother was born in Japan. Both on military bases. 

For us, home is a feeling, a connection, when you're aligned with what you love. I have been reflecting on this recently after encountering a Frank Bidart Poem called Guilty of Dust. The poem ends with a profoundly insightful line, "Whether you love what you love or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate." I believe home is what you love. Mollie and I are returning to what we love with the love we found. Hoping to build up our homes with the loves we've discovered and received through our travels.

Geographically, we decided to return east and are currently living in Tampa, Florida, accomplishing our goal to live within a drive of our parents for the first time since we were 18 and my personal goal of becoming a FLORIDA MAN. Needless to say, mission accomplished. To spend time with elders, cousins, and old friends has been so beautiful. We feel at home whenever we are with family, wherever we are. 

We also both got to spend some time where we grew up this past year. In Omaha, I have been fortunate to work on a few exciting development projects with old friends and new ones. Building up places and spaces I wished my friends and I had growing up. Helping the city grow into its next evolution. Giving back to the city after it gave so much to me. 

Mollie and I also spent a lot of time in Michigan this year. We went to Mollie's cousin Hayley's beautiful wedding up-north in Traverse City and spent time on the lake with family, soaking up quintessential 'Pure Michigan' summer. We also returned to Detroit when Mollie was inducted into her High School's Hall of Fame. She was inducted in the first group and was the first singular athlete in her high school's 65-year history to enter the Hall of Fame. It was pretty amazing to see Mollie on stage, in her former high school, being interviewed by a Detroit sports broadcasting legend in front of an auditorium of faces I didn't know. 

After touring the school gymnasium, it made sense why she was the first to be inducted; it's a Mollie shrine. When you've won 16 state championships and hold nearly every record in the school's history… you have a lot of real estate in the rafters. 

That moment in Mollie's high school reminded us of the importance athletics has played in our lives. Both committed athletes growing up (albeit one FAR more decorated than the other, I will let you guess who), we both felt a need to distance ourselves from this singular identity once going pro was no longer the goal. Many serious athletes will tell you it can feel like a double-edged sword. You're so explicitly categorized that it can be challenging for people to see you as anything else. Getting out of that reductive box takes time. 

When I moved to Portland, no one knew ANYTHING about me, including my background as an athlete. (It helped that athletic experience isn't seen as a negative at Nike.) I reveled in that as it felt like I could be ANYTHING for the first time since I was a kid. Mollie felt similar. We both reveled in unlocking our creative potential with some of the best in the world. Unexpectedly, the process felt oddly familiar. The most helpful part of being an athlete is knowing what it takes to get good at something. More importantly, if you make it to elite athletics, you know what it takes to become great at something. Once you've learned this, you can apply it to ANYTHING. 

The formula is relatively simple. Identify what you want to accomplish → set clear goals → learn from those who have accomplished those goals → surround yourself with the best trying to accomplish these goals → hold yourself accountable → work your a** off → track your progress → iterate, iterate, iterate. 

Frankly, it's the opportunity and fortitude that are the hardest parts. Finding the opportunity is a mix of privilege, luck, and ingenuity. Every opportunity is unique, and identifying which are least dominant for you informs where you need to lean in. Fortitude is a different beast. There are a whole host of ways to build that. The most effective and the healthiest is simply being deeply interested. To put it bluntly, the best athletes, the best at anything really… are OBSESSED. This is why sages tell you to do what you love. Beyond the spiritual benefits, it's the most likely way you will ever have a chance at becoming great at something. Even if you aren't great at it now, time x attention is THE most simple formula for success. Success = compounding interest. 

In the spirit of coming home, Mollie and I are returning to what made us. For the first time in many years, we are publicly integrating sports into our lives. Finding harmony in our two primary identities – creative & athlete - Creative Athlete - Athlete Creative. We finally feel we have something to offer with our shared experiences. Health and wellness have always been at the front of our value system, we are excited to share these learnings beyond ourselves. 

While we've been working on a series of projects under this newfound harmony, two particularly stand out from this past year. 

For Mollie, it was trail running. For those who know Mollie well, running used to be her least favorite form of exercise. I could relate. Anything used as punishment for the sport you like is difficult to appreciate as a pursuit in and of itself. I got over that hurdle through trail running. It felt far more playful than street running, closer to rainforest parkour than punishment laps after practice. 

I introduced Mollie to running mid-COVID when we were both starved from our standard exercise outlets. I suggested a short jog around our neighborhood to get the hang of it. She begrudgingly grinded out a mile through gritted teeth before declaring, yet again, how much she hated running. I almost gave up but thought she likes hiking, and we live next to some of the most beautiful trail running paths in the world. I also hated running when I thought it was nothing more than pounding pavement; let's give it one more go. So we went out to Leif Erikson trail, and she was hooked. Within a month, she was running 5 miles a few times a week. Three months later, she was trail running with the Arc'teryx ultra team. Classic Mollie.

For me (and other mere mortals), it takes a little more than 3 months to become elite in something I just tried. Instead, I have returned to one thing I can confidently say I know deeply – soccer. 

I helped curate a soccer inspired art show for Art Basel called the Footy Temple. It was a beautiful experience. This event combined my first love of soccer and my second love of art. After 10 years apart, I was whole again. Harmony restored. I came home.