Hi friends,

Important: I am moving to Substack. You can read the newsletter there instead (there are more pictures). This is the final post coming from here!

The primary reason is that I am interested in exploring and sharing myself in areas beyond Phin, which is what this space was intended for. Phin will continue to be fertile inspiration but in an abstracted way, which is to say more in essence, less in substance. Those who’ve talked to me enough know that Phin has always been a canvas - my first one - for an education in the art of entrepreneurship. I appreciate you being on this journey with me.

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There’s a hazy film that clings to the PNW summer. No, not the wildfire smoke that lumbers over the mountains in recent years like a forlorn relative to a July BBQ, a new in-law the family hasn’t quite figured how to deal with at parties so they turn their ire toward the aunt/uncle whose careless actions may have ruined all future gatherings. This haze, amassing in stealth at the borders of seasons as we sought winter comfort from introversion, is one of delusion. At the first 5 AM sunrise, the forces of wanton optimism and glee and chance come marching through the city in search of unsuspecting victims. One morning, I’m awakened by the din of possibilities and know that summer has arrived.

I got in my car and drove straight toward life out there with the confidence of someone on their way to pick up a sofa in a hatchback whose plan rests solely on the fact that the back seats fold down. No projects too big, hangouts too late, deadlines too soon, side quests too frivolous. My color-coded schedule very quickly looked as if someone had spilled Skittles on the screen. I couldn’t resist putting the sweet chewy morsels in my mouth, which were fun at first but then stuck to my teeth and chafed my tongue and tired my jaw. By mid-August, the calendar was still giving off Lisa Frank vibes but my stamina was already dwindling. Some mishaps and unexpected chores were all it took to put me in a power-saving mode where most of my brain’s processing power went toward keeping my body upright. At the end of each day, I melted into a puddle and dreamed about Japanese trifele tomatoes.

We were spared actual smoke this year. In fact Seattle was kind of a climate oasis compared to the extreme heat, earthquakes, floods, typhoons that besieged elsewheres. Perhaps the illusion was just how quintessential a PNW summer we were having, the kind my younger self took for granted until the arrival of our new weather patterns. It was a picturesque summer for which delirium could be excused so I’ve forgiven myself for such reckless deployment of my mind and body.

Fortunately our northern latitudes also induce periodic change in character, if we allow ourselves the pleasure. The sun snoozes until 7 now, if it appears at all, and the maple leaves outside my bedroom window blooms yellow and red. They seem more effervescent in the breeze, lighter for having completed their photosynthetic fate. I wonder if I’ll have the chance to celebrate my own karmic fulfillment like them.

Whatever you do, don’t say the leaves are dying. Autumn is for the leaves to truly live. And for colors, for soups, for teas, for goose bumps on our skin instead of sweat, for words, for fun hats, for chayotes and mooncakes, for putting away summer illusions. Autumn, the most uncomplicated season, is for tending to the life within.

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Notes: