Posing in the Mark Twain State Park, Missouri



The Bike Trip

Missouri is beautiful this time of year.  I’ve already bicycled from the Altantic Coast and through Virginia and Kentucky.  The September heat has bronzed my skin; the Appalachians have toned my legs, expanded my lungs.  In front of me is a road that stretches, long and tempting, until it disappears into a ferocious sky rushing headlong toward my riding partner, Jared, and I.  The clouds are an invading force that quickly conquers the space around us; before we have time to react the black sponge of clouds wrings out a deluge of water, hail, thunder and lightning.  Unable to retreat or move forward, we become aware of a disconcerting fact: we are in a lightning storm and we—atop our steel, lighting-friendly bicycles—are the highest points for miles around.

We search the distance for a place of refuge and spot a barn a mile away.  Loaded with our bicycles and all our gear we sprint across a grassy field as all hell breaks loose around us. When we come upon the barn we see a house behind it—a family is in their living room calmly watching TV.  They see us and begin waiving their hands and shout, “Get in the barn!  Get in the barn!” We oblige.  Not a minute after we take shelter, a lightning bolt strikes a tree nearby; it crashes to the ground, not far from where we just were.

After the storm abates the family brings us some food, water and towels: they think we are crazy!  We are grateful to spend the night in the barn.  As we prepare our dinner there is a blissful stillness; the sun sets behind an Earth that has been scrubbed clean.  The morning dawns cool.  We get on the road in the semi-darkness, ready to ride another 80 miles, our only job to use our legs to reach the day’s destination.  The bliss of fitting into a couple of dry bags everything you need to live is thrilling.

2 months and 3,000 miles later I arrive in San Francisco.  I look at a map of the United States and see the extent of the terrain I have covered.  If I can traverse an entire nation with my legs, what can I do with my heart?  What of my relentless ideas, my tireless passion?  Looking back at the map I resolve to honor the beauty of the land and the people and the life that has allowed me to experience such depths of feeling.

I firmly believe that the ideas I disseminate through my writings, my public talks and my other interactions with people have the potential to foster more social change than any organization I can ever create.  To bring home this point, let’s consider the case of Dr. Muhammad Yunus, Founder of Grameen Bank and the co-recipient of the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize. To many, including myself, Dr. Yunus is not only the ‘Father’ of microfinance (don’t worry, we will return to this topic in more detail in later chapters), he is also a source of personal inspiration.  Known as the ‘Banker to the Poor,’ Yunus’ bank, Grameen Bank, has over 7 million borrowers in Bangladesh—97% of whom are women.  Grameen has 30,000 employees, has a branch in every village in the country, is owned by its borrowers, manages to empower 65% of its clients to move out of poverty within five years and has, in the past 30 years, been profitable all but three years—and remember, the Bank operates in one of the poorest countries in the world!  Pretty impressive, right?

But now consider that over a quarter billion people have benefited from microfinance—small loans, insurance products, financial coaching and other financial services designed to empower the poor—in large part because of the example he set and the business model he created.  7 million versus 250 million.  That’s a powerful ratio. What Dr. Yunus has done is transform a country thanks to the organization he started, while at the same time transforming the world thanks to the ideas and strategies he has developed.

After many years of wanting to do so, I’ve finally begun writing my first book, to be called ‘Pragmatic Idealism.’ Instead of the traditional model of a writer toiling away on his work in a dark corner of his office, I’m going to take a different approach: every day, I will post my writing from the day.  What I hope is that you, o reader, will provide feedback and suggestions.  THat way, this will be a kind of collaborative, open-source process.  What could be more aligned with my core beliefs?  This is exciting–let’s get started!

Pragmatic Idealism – An Introduction

When I was little, my family lived on a Cul-de-sac near the top of a steep road that wound its way into the Santa Monica mountains in Los Angeles, CA.  From my balcony I could see long, straight streets point like arrows across the San Fernando Valley and into a distance I could only fill with my imagination.  I remember one weekend I became deeply interested in paper airplanes—I believe my mom had even bought me a paper airplane design book—and I proceeded to design and build a number of different models.  Armed with this veritable Air Force of childish delight, I stationed myself behind a gate overlooking a steep drop and began to launch plane after plane into the sky; after each throw I would watch my creation mingle with the wind and excitedly count every second of tenuous flight.  By the end of the day my arm was aching from so many throws, my eyes stinging from staring up into the sun.

Even though I am only 28, I already find it hard to recall all the moments in my life, the variables that, taken together, comprise the equation of who I am today.  I suppose it would be easier to identify a single, seminal moment, but reality is more subtle, more nuanced than that.  Did I decide to commit myself to following my dreams and battling injustice because of a day, 18 years ago, when I transmuted paper into possibility?  Was it when, at age 14, I was first introduced to Romantic poetry and philosophy? Or what about the fact that my dad, an engineer, and my mom, a university professor, have infused my life with a love of science, literature, ideas, technology, language?  Does it matter?

For whatever reason, the thing of which I am most proud is that I am living exactly the life I wish to lead.  There is nothing I would change; no regrets; no doubts about my path.  And of all the things I’ve done—however few—and all the things I hope to do—however many—I believe my greatest contribution to this world is and always will be the passion that drives me.