For now, I’m calling Medellín, Colombia, home. While here, I’m organizing talks, connecting with local universities, and continuing to build my coaching and speaking career. I’m also doing my best to “Live Regularly ✌🏾🙂↕️”, sample new regions of the world, and live the way I want.
Since there’s so much to enjoy in the immediate vicinity of Medellín, we decided to visit nearby Guatapé, about two hours outside of the city and home to a massive rock called La Piedra.
If you spend any time in Medellín and ask where to go outside the city, this is one of the first recommendations you’ll hear. While my inner Brujo ✨🧙🏾✨ loves the energetic immensity possessed by such a massive monolith, the more practical initiation is simple.
Climb the rock.
To get to the top, you ascend ~750 steps, covering the vertical equivalent of a 70-story building. No tram. No elevator. Since I’d lived in San Francisco and climbed those hills for fun, I didn’t give this climb much thought. But it turns out, it was much harder for me than I expected.
As soon as I start climbing, I immediately notice how short and steep the stairs are. This created my biggest concern because I wear a size US 14 shoe. There’s simply less physical “step” to put my foot on. Not a complaint, just my reality. But as I climb higher, the gorgeous view around Guatape begins opening up.
Wow. Gazing over the landscape, it looks like some sort of dreamland. I think to myself, “How is it that an ordinary guy like me gets to do this on a Wednesday afternoon??”
As my mind wanders, a wave of peace moves through me.
Then I feel myself wobble.
I start getting nervous.
I’m usually not afraid of heights. For me, I actually like the sensation of looking over a balcony edge straight down to the street. But what I realize in that moment is that I only like it when I know I’m safe. And on these stairs, I DO NOT feel safe.
This isn’t standing behind a railing and leaning forward. In my mind, that’s now shifting into a panic mode; the higher I go, the more it feels like I’m trying to climb a slip’n’slide while wearing clown shoes. If I lose my balance anywhere on these 750 stairs, it’s not going to turn out well for me. One misstep, one wobble, and it’s Game Over.
I pull over to take a break, watching the smaller-footed people bounding up the stairs. Some even turn to talk to each other. I feel queasy just watching them. Until finally, we reach the summit.
We walk slowly around the lookout, taking in the views, and of course, I begin to reflect.
I reflect on impermanence and how there will be a point in my life when I won’t feel physically confident enough to do this climb again.
I reflect on the number of tourists swarming the lookout.
I reflect on the fact that humans decided the top of this rock needed a restaurant and bar.
I reflect on how surprisingly difficult I found the way up.
But then it was time to go, and I suddenly found myself reflecting on the treacherous way back down. Just as quickly, the anxiety and pressure returns because I already know the climb down will be much harder mentally, given the level of focus required. You’re lowering yourself down steep, narrow stairs. There are railings, but if you slip, you’re going to tumble, and you will get hurt.
We begin the descent. Easy does it. Slowly and gently. My legs are wobbling like crazy, but I try not to spiral. Just. Go. Slow.
Then, about halfway down, we stop to rest, and an American family we’d met at the top pass by. Two women ahead and an older man coming behind. We make light conversation as we all slowly ease ourselves down these stairs.
I fill the air by saying, “Man, isn’t this the epitome of one step at a time?”
After a brief pause, he replies,
“At my age, I’ve got one rule. Don’t fucking fall.”
For the next fifteen minutes, it’s the only thing that matters. His words feel like someone slowly lodging a needle into my Third Eye, with the entire cosmos folding in around this single pinpoint. Nothing else needs attention. Not work. Not the future. Not meaning-making. Nothing. Just don’t fall. It’s perfectly precise, and anything softer would’ve diluted the truth.
Earlier that day, I’d watched people carrying beers, taking selfies, sending texts, and casually chit-chatting as they climbed. Even now, I can’t understand what could be more urgent than simply not falling down those stairs. Everything else should be irrelevant. …Besides, if you slip, whatever else you were doing becomes irrelevant anyway.
This moment was so powerful for me that it perfectly encapsulated something I’ve known, but could never quite put into words:
Either live by subtraction, or die by distraction.
When you’re in a high-stakes moment, life has a way of multiplying the number of moving parts simultaneously, as leaving a relationship, exiting a career, or rebuilding your life comes with legal decisions, financial decisions, identity decisions, and lifestyle decisions.
When I transitioned my relationship, my career, my identity, and my lifestyle—all at once—my life became pure chaos. There were moving parts everywhere, and it was a very high degree of difficulty. However, I made it through and avoided several potentially costly mistakes by staying focused on what was directly in front of me. I had to subtract friends, social events, idle entertainment, and anything that wasn’t in service of getting through this transition period.
Thankfully, like everything, seasons are temporary. Sometimes that season of focus is takes only 20 minutes—like descending La Piedra. But sometimes it drags on for 20 months—like finalizing a divorce. Either way, the principle doesn’t change. If you allow your attention to scatter when the stakes are high, you increase your risk. The work is in identifying what actually matters during that time and giving it your full attention.
During high-stakes transitions, the instruction is simple:
Focus on what’s important.
What I carried away from that afternoon was the understanding that in certain moments, it’s ok for unnecessary things to fall away. You don’t need to solve your entire life every day. You certainly don’t need to bite off more than you can chew. You just need to handle what’s right in front of you.
So if you’re in a major transition right now, treat it like those stairs. Decide what matters right now and protect your focus accordingly. I’ve personally lived through transitioning all aspects of my life all at once. I know what that pressure feels like.
If you’re serious about moving through your own transition season, this is the work I do. Sometimes rah-rah motivation helps, but usually all you need is steady focus and someone to help you use sound judgment. If that’s what you’re looking for, let’s talk.
Nice Don! Steady focus + sound judgment =🧑🍳🤌