Owais Ahmed, who, after a successful year, has lost all motivation for playing poker,  wrote: “Its like I’ve hit the ceiling – all I can accomplish at a poker table is doing more of what I’ve already done. Looking forward to a future where I should grind cash daily or a few nights a week doesn’t seem that fun. When is enough enough?”

A PERSONAL STORY: A Grande Vanilla Latte

On a hot summer morning in Laguna Beach, California I stopped to relax at Laguna Beach Coffee. I love the sensation of caffeine on an empty stomach and basking in the Orange County sun. There I could get both for $2.

The cute Polish barista who knows my drink order of choice, a grande iced vanilla latte, wasn’t working that day. In her place was Bridget, another equally inviting woman with shoulder length blonde hair and bright green eyes. She chirped loudly enough that the shop could hear.

“How can I help you?” she rhymed, carrying on. Before I could answer she interrupted: “How about this: I’ll surprise you. If you don’t like it I’ll make you another one,” she reassured me.

When I took a sip of the concoction, a cold refreshing mixture of coffee, chocolate and raspberry took me to heaven. “How did you make this?” I asked. “It’s my secret,” she whispered. “Sometimes, when I get bored at work, I just experiment, you know?

THE SITUATION: Becoming Frustrated With Work

What troubles Owasis is that playing poker has shifted from being a passion to a full time job.  Once, the idea of sitting in a casino was a glamorized goal, an abstract dream. Now, a mundane reality.In a recent conversation with Michael Kaplin, a friend and freelance journalist, we caught up about our past few months. I told him of my life post Black Friday and shift to live poker. “It’s different man. I’ve been on the road lately. Traveling around trying to find games.”

His turn: “It doesn’t sound so bad, I’d love to be able to see a few places and play more poker. I’m just working on a new restaurant review. They want me to fly to Vegas for the weekend to try it. “It sounds like a dream,” I told him, “I’d love nothing more than to be paid to travel and write”.

We both laughed and said simultaneously: “I guess the grass is always greener.”

THE PROBLEM: Routines Create Boredom

Owasis confesses “I used to dream of playing a 15 hour session. Now the same thought feels like a prison sentence.”

The problem isn’t that poker became boring, but Owasis became bored of the game.If we do the same thing every day, we are going to get used to it. The challenge then, isn’t to avoid the inevitable, but how to spice things up.

We are beings of routines. They help us in almost every facet of our lives: they increase Productivity makes us more responsible and adds structure to the day helping to get things done. The difficulty lies in not becoming slaves to them.

THE SOLUTION: Creativity

What sets Bridget apart in her job is that she enjoys her work. Her secret? She got creative. Instead of making a mundane black coffee, she sold customers on eclectic inventions.

When learning stops, boredom beings.

In poker this means our decisions become robotic.

Instead of thinking  ”I’m supposed to bet the flop, because betting the flop is “standard, ask yourself “why?” By definition doesn’t standard mean that your opponents are expecting it? And if so, could there be merit in doing the opposite?

It’s easy to get creative in a game where no two hands are the same.

Recently, I’ve experimented flat calling with big hands in multi way pots. My thought is: “everyone else raises so I’m going to call.” I’ve found that people don’t give me credit and it throws them off guard.

More, I’m constantly challenging myself by being in new spots that force me to think about the game in ways I never thought possible.

FIND THE MODEL:

Find someone in your line of work that just can’t get enough of it. Take them to dinner and get inspired. What is it about the way they approach the job that makes it so exciting?

I’ve spent as much time as possible over the last month with my good friend Michael “Play2Kill” Touritz, a witty, sharp poker player who has an unparalleled passion for the game. It’s no surprise that he’s always one of the most successful at the table. Undoubtedly, the reason is his ideal day consists of 10 hours playing poker.

I was fortunate to watch him play for several hours. It’s not just that he expanded my knowledge of the game, but he challenged what I thought to be true: “If people only call raises with hands that show a profit against you, then why raise in the first place?” Through these simple diversions, poker can become a new game.

PERSPECTIVE:

I was complaining to my friend about having to play poker when she stopped me, raising her finger. “You don’t have to play,” she corrected me. “You want to play.” Depending on how we approach them, the same two activities can be either painful or pleasurable. “I have to work out today to because I’m fat” and “I’m going to enjoy a swim” both lead to the same result, yet they reveal a very different attitude.

A quick fix: list 10 things about your job that you are grateful for, read it when you get up, and take them to work with you.

Here are my records: Flexibility, entertainment, universality, lucrativeness, challenging, stimulation, ability to influence others, possibility to travel, socialize with interesting people, and it’s kinda badass. The list is growing and constantly changing.

HAVE A FOCUS:

Another exercise I found helpful is called “The Week Leak.” Each week I pick one aspect of my job I want to improve. It can be anything. This week my poker goal is to “clear my mind before each decision.” For my practice, I’m going to make a deep breath and contract my stomach before every action.

Having a focus gives me a purpose for playing. My job has gone from arbitrary to centered because I have a direction and I keep in mind that making money isn’t my job, it’s merely the product of doing it well.

Those who climb the pyramid of success reach the top because of the second level, they are skilled. They are good because of the middle layer, hard work. They work hard because most importantly, they never forget the base, the structure and foundation of everything that rests above it. Passion.

The reason I enjoy what I do so much is because I love the game itself and I love playing. Keep that love alive and the rest will follow.

The grass is plenty green everywhere. It’s right there on our front lawn. Our job is not to step on it. ♠

As discussed in Part 1, Physical solutions may help after a disastrous losing session. But what about a long term downswing? A losing month, terrible World Series, or, in the extreme case of “Saxophone,” going broke? For this, a shift in mental perspective is required.

DAMAGE CONTROL

1) Count the Loss:

I often put off tallying losses because accepting the reality is too much to bear. But the sooner I do it, the sooner I can come to terms with the fact that it’s real. After I physically write the number down, I allow myself time to lament. Sometimes I go even further and torture myself by calculating how my financial situation would have been different if I hadn’t taken that bad beat.

2) Acceptance:

It is the hardest part. I continue my agony by comparing my two numbers side by side (my current financial situation and the “could have been” one).

Then, I think long and hard about my life outside of poker. What activities do I enjoy? I actually list them: writing, exercise, cooking, yoga, friends, reading and nature.

I take time to appreciate what they have in common: they are all free. I realize deeply that everything I need to be happy is within my grasp and my life would be no different with the additional money.

This realization is the moment of epiphany when things start to turn around.

3) Recovery

In this phase, I begin doing my list of activities, even if it means forcing myself to go through the motions. It is common for a simple task to seem overwhelming, like it is for a depressed patient to get out of bed. To make things easier, the night before I make a schedule. Again, I write it out. I set myself up for success by starting the day with something simple: 5 minutes of stretching or 20 deep breaths, and gradually toward more challenging activities. Regardless of time and place, I set an alarm for 7 am and get moving.

I take time for introspective moments of gratitude. I kick off each day with a simple practice. I set a timer for 2 minutes and list as many things I can think I’m thankful for.

The more trivial the better. Raw almonds, my juicer, The New Yorker, Omar Little. It doesn’t matter, just get it out.

As Oscar Wilde said, we should delight in even the extremest moments of pain, because they are, in fact, extraordinary.

MAINTAINING A POSITIVE OUTLOOK

The Problem:

What affected “Saxophone” was not that he lost his $500,000 bankroll, but his idea of what that money means. In the thread on 2p2, he admitted the money had no specific value to him. His biggest concern seemed that he could no longer compete at the games highest levels. Understood. Going broke is the poker equivalent of a serious injury for a sports star. Depending on how fast one can recover, he may be out a week, year or a lifetime.

While not being able to immediately play the biggest games is frustrating, it’s no cause for depression. What’s difficult to comprehend is the sheer amount of money lost. Even a year later, he admits being overwhelmed.

Here’s why: Money has no purpose. There’s no clear reason one needs the dough, other than they want it. (In actuality,”Saxophone” doesn’t need the cash). With no void to replace the number that’s burdening him, the pain continues so long as he cannot recover the arbitrary number, because currently, that’s how his success is measured.

Consider this: Is it possible to conceive he would be less unhappy if the number he lost was $300,000? What if he began with $10,000,000 and lost $9,500,000? He would still have the $500,000 he laments losing, but I believe he would feel an equivalent sense of loss. The problem then is not in the figure, but his idea of it.

The Solution:

Give your chosen non poker activities meaning by making goals and working towards them.

I recommend using Tim Ferriss‘ Dreamlines and his Monthly Expense Calendar. Ferriss’ best-selling book: Four Hour Work Week covers, in detail, how to create your ideal lifestyle and the steps to cultivate and calculate it.

I’ve done this successfully for years and never once has my annual Dreamline exceeded $100,000. Please note: I’m high maintenance and my girlfriend calls me “Little Prince.”

Once we realize that the money we need to do what we want is far less than we think, it’s easier to accept the loss. Contentment comes the moment we appreciate the fact that we’re no happier with $100,000 or $10,000,000.

Lasting Happiness:

There are two types of goals: extrinsic and intrinsic. Extrinsic ones involve material, status and fame, while Intrinsic goals involve personal growth, relationships and experiences. I cannot stress how much more rewarding intrinsic goals have been in my life. Learning Italian, backpacking through New Zealand and playing piano crush owning a new wardrobe, more twitter followers and a bigger bankroll.

Happiness should be our religion and the basis on which we make our decisions. Fortunately, since it is a mental state of being, it is also a skill we can develop. Practicing Happiness should be embedded into our daily lives. Gratitude, kindness and modest expectations should be applied to not set ourselves up for disappointment. As little as five minutes a day can make all the difference.

Contentment is not a mysterious place at the end of the rainbow. It exists here and now. Most of all, when choosing an industry where money is the standard way to measure success, we must remember, the goal is not to be rich, but to be happy. ♠

“Be happy for this moments. This moments is your life.” – Omar Khayyam

A Two Part series on recovering from downswings, shifting perspective, maintaining a positive outlook and general happiness, in response to “Saxophone,” on 2p2, who is struggling to recover from losing a $500,000 bankroll.

Preface: A PERSONAL STORY

Walking through the Bellagio, I see a large crowd gathering around a bunch of screaming people. I stop to see the cause of the commotion. “What’s going on?” I ask a man huddled at the back.

“Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce are playing blackjack.” I nudge my way to the front. The group erupts, hands flailing into the air. In the process, a drunk man nearly spills his beer on my head. They must have won a fortune.

When their hands came into view the first thing I noticed wasn’t their bets, but Kevin’s watch. Massive, embedded with diamonds, it shined even on the dimly lit casino floor. My eyes followed his wrist down his hand and then his fingers. It can’t be. I squinted to make sure, but the two neatly staked red chips were unmistakable. They were betting $10 per hand.

The Reason: STIMULATION

Even though they were barely playing, the excitement created a lot of fuss. On the other hand, a high stakes poker player with a fraction of the net worth can win three zeros more then them without flinching. How is this possible? When we gamble our minds develop a tolerance to the stimulation, no different than the alcoholic who can put back 10 shots. Excessive becomes normal.

There’s only so much fluctuation we can handle before the money becomes real. Once we pass this threshold, emotions return.

When we win, joy and euphoria. When we lose, pain and panic. The losses are always worse than the wins. They are so detrimental to our state of being that I refer to the tipping point for pain as the “PT,” pain threshold. PT’s vary depending on frequency of play. For two athletes who rarely risk money, the least amount of volatility is exciting.

The Problem: COMPULSION

If one chooses to gamble, crossing the PT is unavoidable. It can be avoided by implementing stop losses before they are reached or taking breaks after significant losing streaks. Nevertheless, while these tips are good in practice, they don’t always work.

First we have to cross them to know where they are. And also a big game with a lucrative spot is often too irresistible for even the most conservative poker player to turn down. Let’s face it, we like to gamble. The real problem, then, is how do we recover when the inevitable happens?

The Physical Solution: TAKING ACTION

The life of a poker player desensitizes one to money. Personally, this is a constant battle because I’m nowhere near rich enough to justify such an indifferent mindset. The biggest hand I’ve lost is $475,000. The biggest downswing I’ve had is $1,000,000. Following both, I experienced a sense of loss, despair and a void, similar to the pain of a bitter sweet breakup. In my experience the best way to recover from such a traumatic experience is to compartmentalize the two distant realities: poker and life.

I know that my PT is the most I can lose without losing perspective. Win cap, “WC” is the opposite. When either of these lines are crossed, I take a day off to do something explorative, creative and new. Something as simple as trying a different restaurant, walking through a unseen part of town, or exercising can make the difference between a successful reset or a stressful morning. For further therapy, I make a small reward or recovery purchase. This reinforces the truth that the money I make in the poker world has value in the real world and motivates me to play better.

Sometimes I don’t have the liberty of a day off. A lucrative cash game compels me to grind or even more imminent, I cross my PT during a session and want to continue playing. The quickest way to refocus is a bit disturbing, even blasphemous, but it works. I rip up money.

That’s right. I walk away from the table, take out a $1 bill, tear it to pieces and throw it away. If you just cringed, that’s good. It’s intended to be painful and remind us that our distress is not because of the money, but that the brain is addicted to the stimulation.

In order to recreate this spark, we need more fuel and higher levels of fluctuation. This petty $1 sacrifice save thousands at the table.

Lastly, we must remember the thing that trumps all: Happiness. When debating whether or not to play poker, we shouldn’t make our decisions based on EV (expected value) in dollars, but on how it will affect us mentally, hEV (happiness expected value). ♠

Physical recovery is important in the short term: losing sessions and bad days. But in the long term, for losing months and busted bankrolls, a mental shift is required.

Check back Monday, March 18th for Part Two where I’ll cover mental state, balance and happiness.

I did it. Twelve consecutive days of playing poker and 90 hours later, I earned well beyond the amount to justify the purchase. “I deserve them,” I say aloud, holding them to the light. I turn to the salesman Matthew: “How much?”
“5050 HKD” ($650 USD).
“I’ll take them.”

I walk out of Louis Vuitton beaming. When nobody is looking, I actually skip. The delayed gratification of a lavish purchase silences the ache I felt about spending $650 on a pair of sunglasses. Besides, in Bali, Indonesia there’s going to be plenty of sun.

On the streets of Bali one can find tons of freshly picked coconuts. Local Balinese women cut off the tops with a machete.

I have 15 minutes to kill at the airport. I run to the gift shop to pick up some last minute items. They’re only 100 HKD ($12 USD). They look just like mine!! What the heck? “One for $650 or two for $662.” I add them to my cart.

As I land at the airport in Ubud, I look for the sign that reads my name. “Alec Torelli.” Mare, my driver, takes me from the airport to my villa. $20. When I arrive, chef Katut greets me. “Welcome Sir.” A private pool, outdoor kitchen, and hand picked fruits spell paradise.

A local Balinese fruit, the mango steen is a a mango and only sweeter and tangier.

The first thing I sign up for in Bali is a bike tour. It comes not only with two buffets and a trek around the gorgeous island, but an inclusive tasting at the Lawak coffee plantation.

Following a 30 mile bike ride we induldge in a home cooked meal!

It’s hot and I’m going to sweat profusely so I opt for the cheap shades. They’re ideal for the day, protects with style, and if they break, who cares?

On a stop in the rice fields I got the chance to work with the locals.

Afterwards I’m exhausted, so I spring for an in house hour long massage. Dinner is free, cooked by the chef using the freshest ingredients from Bali’s local fields. Sensational.

Our chef prepares a home made feast cooked in coconut oil.

The next few days I don’t do much of anything, just relax. Island living.

I take a two hours daily class for $12 at Yoga Barn, Bali’s premier studio; I visit a monkey forest, where I feed bananas to baboons for free and I do some shopping.

Ubud's Yoga Barn is one of the most beautiful in the world, offering an indoor/outdoor experience.

Feeding a mom and her baby in Ubud's Monkey Forest

The hand carved wood Buddah statues are perfect for a house center piece. Enjoying a fun game of bargaining, I pick up three plus some unique style clothes. $100.

Found all over Bali, these hand crafted Buddah's can be had for unbelievable prices.

Bali, Indonesia Wood Carvings from Alec Torelli on Vimeo.

My week in paradise comes to a bitter sweet end. I tally my expenses:

Room: $40 x 6 = $240
Bike Tour: $40
Driver: $40
Food: $150
Statues: $100
Clothes: $100
Yoga: $36

Total: $706

When I return to Macau, I stop by Louis Vuitton. “Matthew, I don’t normally do this, but I’d like to return these.” When he asks why, I explain to him my shame at spending the same amount for a week in Bali as on a ludicrous purchase. He sympathizes… but “Unfortunately sir, we can’t accept returns after 7 days.” I’m reluctant, happy and sad, in the same time.

At dinner that night, I head to Il Teatro, the Italian restaurant at the Wynn Hotel. A few drinks and three hours later, I leave empty handed. It was’t until the following morning that I realize I left my glasses at the table! “I’m sorry sir,” the Lost and Found tells me, “we can’t locate them.” $650 has never stung so much.

It’s impossible to compare doing something vs. having something. While being bombarded with media and advertisements, we are taught that things will bring us meaning and happiness. We are wrong. The media’s message stems from embedding this falsity deep within to generate revenue at our expense.
Imagine losing your camera or cell phone. The item is replaceable, the content is not. We can acquire, use, break and lose things, but they will never last.

Both my sunglasses and Bali are over.

One is gone forever. The other will last a lifetime. ♠

San Remo, Italy at the rocks of inspiration

We made the trek from Parma to San Remo in record time. The drive boasted little villages and picturesque scenery of the Mediterranean. We arrived at the Royal Hotel just in time for dinner, and after indulging in gossip, gnocchi and gelato, we went to bed in anticipation for day one of the European Poker Tour. With some of the biggest expected fields in EPT history, I made sure I was up in time to be ready by noon. But to nobody’s surprise, the tournament started two hours late. Italy. I played patiently for the first ten hours, attempting to avoid catastrophe. Unfortunately, as the day came to an end, I stepped on a land mine, and just like that, I was out. It was my twelfth consecutive tournament without a cash, which was quickly becoming one of my more expensive habits.

As I debated what to do next, I sat on my balcony watching the sun grow weary. The Mediterranean was covered in wooden blocks with little white flags attached by strings, flowing into the horizon. The trees swayed blissfully in the wind, with birds whistling heartfelt songs. I spotted an elderly couple walking by the rocks, which extended 100 meters info the sea, forming a pier of sorts. The man energetically helped his wife, carefully bracing her shoulders with each passing step. Their newlywed love radiated to my balcony, transforming my tilt into tranquility. I felt a presence, yearning for attention like a crying child does to his mother. Having no choice but to tend to the tears, I made haste for the rocks.

I raced down the steps in front of the hotel, past the laymen at the pool, past the cars stuck in traffic and past the streets thronged with people. A light perspiration came over me as I set foot on the rock formed pier. I started my hunt like a mouse searching for food. Perhaps there was a hidden treasure waiting to be discovered. Something, anything. Half way down the pier, I paused to catch my breath. I gazed down the coastline, the clear blue water rippling into infinity. I picked up the pace, hopping quickly from one rock to the next. As I neared the end of the pier, I turned around to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Behind me, I saw nothing but layered houses waiting patiently on the hillside like a tiered audience. Thousands of them lined up to fill the auditorium, the price of admission extortionary. The sun set behind the viewers, boasting a vibrant display of oranges, yellows and reds. I turned to face the sea but was greeted only by a swift current. “What now?” I said aloud, but a gale blew chills down my spine. “Sssshhhhh” it said. “Okay, okay” I screeched. I tip towed warily toward the end of the pier, listening carefully for the wind’s whisper.

Left alone in pristine solitude, I nestled myself on a lonely rock and sat in stillness. The currents floated toward shore like a ballerina gliding across the stage. The sound of the waves soothed me, like a singing mother does to her child. I breathed deeply, astonished by how something so simple can go unnoticed. Reinvigorated, my mind surrendered to the moment, liberated from thoughts of chores, work and life itself. I closed my eyes freeing myself from distraction. I listened intensely to the melody of the ocean. The waves played the piano of the sea and the wind accompanied her, tickling fervently on the strings. The birds, compelled to join, chirped on their flutes in harmony. Just as I settled in to her affection, the thunderous roar of the cymbal sounded, as the waves crashed upon the rocks. As tide rose, the music crescendoed, reaching full forte. The wind, violent now, blasted against the rocks and sea, misting my face with pleasure. Louder, louder, yet in consummate exaltation, each note held to perfection. The sea, bellowing in all its fury, seemed proud to play for all eternity, as long as I’d listen. Their labor owed no debt, slaving away as they had done for all eternity. I felt the epic finale approaching, though only perceived by my human understanding of time. The symphony became too much to bear, forcing my eyes open, the music ceasing as quickly as it had began. I erupted into applause, giving thanks for such an awakening rendition, but there was nothing except birds, rocks, water, wind and peace.

~~~~~~~

Some days we wake up and realize that everything we need is right before our eyes. Yet we often pass by and sneer without the slightest hesitation, as to a beggar on the street. Most drive, some bike, a few run and others walk, but we pass just the same. Very few stop. Even less watch. Nobody listens. I took a moment, just one tiny moment to listen. To gave thanks to the sea who played proudly for me. To the rocks for granting me permission to rest. To the birds for their enthusiasm, and to the wind for her calming whisper. We can relish thousands of these evanescent, penetrating instances, if were merely stop and listen. And who knows, once in a while, we may just witness a masterpiece. ♠

“Life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you just might miss it.”
- Ferris Bueller

Nelson, New Zealand

Tuesday, July 26th

This week, I’m having what you might want to call a quarter life crisis. In the aftermath of online poker meltdown, it’s a pertinent time for reflection. While questioning is often a healthy activity that can lead to personal development, if left unattended, it can cause unnecessary stress, leading one to fret over every permutation of their future. Unfortunately, I’ve fallen victim to the latter. I’ve been all over the place, bouncing back and forth between activities like a pinball. Even focusing on the most trivial task such as taking out the trash seems overwhelming. If my mind were a computer, it would be running at full capacity with far too many items in the recycle bin and perhaps a virus. To illustrate, we’ll back track three days. On Sunday I got up ambitious about writing a book. On monday I was pursuing an online business venture. Today I am planning a backpacking getaway to Alaska. This Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde existence has become quite the burden. In all seriousness, I envy the two of them, for they’re fighting a battle amongst themselves, while I’m taking on an army of personalities, each one with a different agenda. Surely this is normal for one in their 20′s and I’m merely the victim of a disillusioned reality. Perhaps I just need time, rest and sleep. In my frenzied state, it’s easy to blame the fast paced culture for all the opportunities it presents, friends for wanting attention and Vegas, for well, being Vegas. But, regardless of whom I chose to blame, one thing is for certain: my situation isn’t improving and the distractions continue to plague me like mosquitos.

In a confessing conversation, I was offered a way out. “Why don’t you just turn off your cell phone and unplug your internet for a week. See what happens.” “You’re crazy,” I retorted, as if the notion were akin to Full Tilt unexpectedly stealing millions of dollars from its players. I dismissed this nonsense without giving the idea much credence, as if I was somehow contractually obligated to carry a cell phone. But after another day of distress and bordering on insanity, I conceded. As I unplugged my phone charger and disconnected my cable modem, I felt my heart pulsate. It’s the feeling after you pass through airport security and finish storing your luggage in the overhead compartment, only to realize you might have left something at home. What was I going to do for a week without my cell or the internet? I couldn’t imagine such a world. Had I already forgotten the simplicity of my life in Parma?

I miss you Italia.

~~~

Wednesday, July 27th 9 am

I woke to the light shining through the curtains. I laid in bed for a half hour before moving, since, of course, there was nothing to do. I decided to make myself some food. Something felt different but my breakfast was the same: oatmeal seasoned with cinnamon and pumpkin, topped with mixed nuts and fresh fruit. I took a bite, the delicious berry combination exploded with flavor. As I was enjoying the bowl, I realized my problem. It had been a long time since I’d simply eaten breakfast, or simply done anything for that matter. I neglected to mention that during the course of a meal, from the time I lit the stove to the time I finished the last spoonful, I also managed to stretch, checked my email, chat on Facebook, sent at least three texts and made a phone call. And I eat fast. It’s the online poker player in me, wanting to 12 table every aspect of life. Damn you, Full Tilt! Unfortunately, while being able to play 12 tables simultaneously is a valuable skill in the poker world, it doesn’t translate well into stretching while making oatmeal.

Try doing 12 things at once and all you end up with is nothing.

~~~

Wednesday, July 27th 10 pm

The rest of my day continued in this manner, enjoying each activity independently. Is this what I was so afraid of? For the first time in a month, I spent the day doing what every moment should be full of, just living. It was a breath of relief, like finally paying off an overdue bill. I viewed the activities which I previously deemed stressful through a new lens. While working, I asked, “Is this something I need to be doing right now?” During times of leisure I asked, “do I really want to be doing this? If the answer to either was no, I skipped them. Why stress when I can come back to it later, when the activity can be filled with passion? I came to terms with the fact that most things can wait till tomorrow. Life is short and if I’m going to do something, I best be enjoying it. I needed to be warned by Christopher Walken like he did with Adam Sandler in “Click”: “You’ve been living your life on auto pilot.”

In poker, as in life, auto pilot can be an expensive habit. On the table, it means not being fully cognizant instead of analyzing each situation independently. In life, it means going through the motions instead of being fully aware in the present. In a recent conversation with my friend Alan Keating, he shared some valuable insight on a recent experience. Seeking a change of pace, he escaped the Las Vegas Strip to spend an afternoon at the mall. While drifting through the shops, he struck up a conversation with a sales lady who was standing outside a woman’s shoe store. She was twice his elder. He asked her a simple question in passing: “how are you?” Mistaking it to be rhetorical, she didn’t respond which has sadly become the norm. He waited with fixed eyes, a mixture of arrogance and genuine curiosity. Realizing he was serious, she muttered, “I’m okay.” Pause. “How… are you?” she asked sheepishly, aware that this was the first time she meant it in a long time. One phrase, sparked a catalyst of conversation, and four hours later, Alan left the store with something not even the nicest pair of handmade Gucci’s can provide.

I measure the level of simplicity in my life by the amount of time I spend reading and writing. To no surprise, this month was zero, save for this pithy piece. If I had a magic button that I could somehow press to see how many times I’ve asked: “How are you?” and waited for the response, I’d dare not push it. Am I really too busy to care? Sometimes, I mistakingly think so, but I must prioritize, for what could be more important than sharing a connection with those around us? Instead of merely accomplish a task, I should simply enjoy it. Instead of running an errand, I can use it as an opportunity to take pleasure in the people I encounter. It doesn’t have to be a four hour heart-to-heart, but can be as effortless as three little words: “How – are – you?” To care for the answer to such a fundamental question can make all the difference, for it is a recipe for humanity.

Simplicity. Patience. Caring. Three ingredients of the dish we savor the most, happiness. ♠

Tuscany, Italy

Have you ever felt like the world is plotting against you? Like you spend each day sailing against the wind?

Regardless of where you’re trying to go, it’s easier with the wind behind you. As my girlfriend says, “I try to envision I’m on this little magic carpet, just floating to wherever life takes me.” We’d all love to have a magic carpet to fly us around. But until that genie appears, we’re all going to face the wind. The question becomes, why resist when you can glide?

Try to imagine that everything that happens to you is the best possible scenario. What’s the difference between that and having faith in God’s plan? Maybe missing your meeting because you hit every red light saved you from an accident. If I take a bad beat and bust the next Epic Poker Tour, maybe it’s not my time.

In order to be happy, we have to focus on what we can control. I may not be able to change the wind, but I can adjust my sails. ♠