change makers

The Refuge We May Find in Beauty

/ Greta Matos / 2 Comments

The words I read in the headline burn my eyes. I click the “x” in the right corner of the browser, closing the news article, feeling full of its toxicity, disgusted and saddened, ashamed at the level of political discourse in my country has sunk to- between candidates yes, but also between one another.

I log into Facebook and send a little note of love to a dear friend, and before I know it, I’m caught up in the quicksand action of scrolling through my newsfeed…again the toxicity of the posts I read feels tangible. So many people sharing the next obscene and ridiculous thing that has been said, and possibly done. So much expression of outrage. So much conflict and argument. So much talking and declaration, so little listening and asking.

I log out of my account and close my computer.

I sit for a moment quietly, taking a few deep breaths with my eyes closed. My eyes continue to burn as I rest them, the words and images plastered across the various articles, screaming for attention, pop up in the darkness of my mind, continuing their torment.

Dishes from breakfast beckon for cleaning and I have work to do, so up I go. I turn on my NPR One app to catch the morning newscast. Why? I’m not sure…a small part of me wants to further engage with the drama, perhaps?

Why are we so easily addicted to the things that do not truly nourish us?

The newscast offers up what I expect it to…and suddenly a stream of horrifying reports is flowing abrasively into my ears while I scrub off the remains of egg from my frying pan.

After several minutes my heart can no longer bare it, and begs for retreat. My ears feel overwhelmed by all the junk I’ve just consumed, like a guilty child who’s eaten too many sweets and now has an awful tummy ache. If only my ears could vomit all of that poison back up and release it from my body.

We are so much larger than this…I know we are.

The overwhelm of my senses is collectively gathering and I feel physically heavier as each moment passes.

I suddenly pause, and realize I’m starving for beauty, gasping for sustenance, aching for kindness.

I grab my jacket and step outside into the pouring rain, heading toward the forest that leads down to the river. Fresh apple blossoms greet me along the way, splashing their obvious beauty across my view, demanding I take pause to study their delicate, delicious and brief existence.

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I let the beauty of the forest fully embrace my eyes, soaking up every inch and detail of the vibrant green mosses and delicately dripping leaves. The spring (yes, it’s spring in Chile!) rains have been falling heavily for hours, and the leaves shimmer and shine brightly, reflecting the bright white sky above.

My eyes no longer burn.

I pause beside a thick tree trunk, suddenly lost in its web and variety of mosses and ferns that have claimed residency on its living, growing, breathing real estate.

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The green vibrance of the freshly-born leaves hanging from the trees invoke a sense of wonder. Each day their hue changes ever-so-slightly as they age from their spring birth into their midlife summer.

But now they catch the freshly falling rain with a full and delicate vulnerability. The rain splashes upon their new skin and they bounce under its weight; and they are resilient, these bold little leaves are not discouraged by the constancy of this heavy spring shower. They continuously reach upward, toward the sunshine they know resides behind the clouds.

Perhaps we can be as resilient as these bold little leaves, we can continue to reach toward the sunshine in the midst of this heavy downpour.

Before moving on I close my eyes and turn my face to the sky. The rain falls freely, delighting my skin with its fresh and delicate kisses. Each raindrop laughs as it collides with the leaves above, sliding down onto my skin, rolling onward from the clouds to the thirsty soil. I revel in the joyful journey of these little drops of water.

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I smile quietly and continue to follow the path toward the river, breathing deep the smells that the rain has encouraged forth. It’s so wonderful that rain produces such lovely smells in wild places.

How lucky are we for that? Very, I think.

And how delicate the smells are, they’re unnameable and unseeable, like fairies ducking beneath the leaves and emerging quickly and elegantly here and there, only to disappear again when another wishes to tickle our noses with delightful scents.

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Just down the hill I reach the spring where an underground creek gushes forth in crisp, pure form, traveling with great intention to join the Liracura river that runs along the property.

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The sounds of the forest pour into my ears- the gurgling rush of the water mixes sweetly with the pitter-patter of the heavy raindrops falling onto the fresh spring leaves. Various birds sing to one another and their calls mix with the lonely call of our dear rooster who seems to have lost his hens.

My ears seem to froth with gratitude for such lovely offerings, and I sit quietly, simply soaking in the beautiful sounds that surround me.

I dip my hand into the water, it’s icy cold and as I splash it on my face it takes my breath away. I cup the fresh water in my hands and take several deep sips. The cold, clean water washes its way down my throat, into my body, caressing my organs and my cells, sharing its vibrance with me.

My body, my senses, my heart no longer feel heavy, or full of the abrasive things I consumed earlier.

The world is a mess. And it’s also overflowing with beauty.

All too often we’re not conscious of what we’re consuming, nor are we aware of how the things we consume impact us. These delicate bodies of ours, they are strong, and powerful, and resilient, and yet they are affected by all things we consume. We often use the term “You are what you eat”- but we are also, in many ways, what we consume in these other forms as well. We are what we hear, what we see, what we smell, what we taste, what we feel. Perhaps that’s why we feel such exhaustion and repulsion from an overload of negative and disheartening things…our bodies and our hearts are crying out to keep this out, it is poisoning us.

And yet we are incredibly resilient, how quickly we are rejuvenated when we consume things that inspire us, that lift our hearts, that delight our taste buds and sooth our ears.

Food is not the only thing that nourishes our body. All of our senses are attuned to receive from our environment, and if we aren’t aware of what we are exposing them to, we risk losing ourselves amidst the toxic and damaging realities of our world. In order to find the creativity, the curiosity, and the resilience we need if we are to overcome these negative realities, we must offer all of our senses nourishment.

So where might we find this nourishment?

We find it in beauty.

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I wholeheartedly believe in the undeniable power of beauty. I offer refuge to myself, by choosing to engage with beauty when I need regeneration. Despite the undeniable chaos and darkness we are exposed to all across the TV and computer screens, despite all of the products for sale that have done incredible damage to the environments and communities where they were made and discarded, despite the availability of foods that are full of toxic pesticides, chemicals and hormones that have damaged our soils and polluted our waters, despite the outrage we are witnessing and probably feeling in our communities about social injustice and corporate and political corruption- despite all of this we have beauty awaiting us at every turn.

It’s waiting for us, waiting to offer us the replenishment we need so desperately so that we can carry on.

We can all be more mindful about what we consume. I believe in being an informed citizen, and in participating in our society in order to move collectively toward a more positive and regenerative existence on this planet. And I believe in being a wholesome person, who listens to the needs of her body, who seeks inspiration and opportunities to serve in a positive way, who knows that she was not made to carry the weight of the world and therefore there are times I must retreat from it. When I must retreat into it.

And when I retreat, I retreat to beauty.

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Nourish yourself. In the midst of all the embattled dialogue on our screens and public stages, take time to listen to beautiful music; make a colorful meal with fresh ingredients that is so beautiful to look at you can hardly dare to disturb it with your fork; step outside and breathe in the fresh spring rain, or the crisp fall air- both will be swollen with the life of leaves- breathe in that life. Walk up to a tree and get lost in its trunk for a few moments, oh what wonders await us when we look closely at the bark of a tree! Embrace a friend or a loved one with gratitude and appreciation. Beauty is all around us, the ways in which we may uncover it are truly endless!

So, how might you take refuge in beauty? What simple beauties invoke a sense of wonder and joy in you?

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A Simple Act of Kindness

/ Greta Matos / 2 Comments

Plump, swollen, frustrated tears formed around the edge of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I sat beside the riverbed, the misty rain beginning to chill my bones, feeling utterly defeated as I held our broken water filter in my mosquito-bitten hands. I had been trying to get the pump to work for nearly twenty minutes, all to no avail. I pushed myself up, wiped the mud from my knees and headed back to our campsite.

What had already been a tough day filled with steep elevation gains, constant rain and sadistic mosquitos that could fly in the rain and bite through rain gear, was now made a whole lot worse by the realization that our primary method of water purification was broken; and the nearest road crossing was a 4 day walk from where we were. Crap.

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Yet another very wet day on the Appalachian Trail

Ale and I had been on the Appalachian Trail for 9 days, we were just beginning our 5 month journey walking on foot from Maine all the way to Georgia. Prior to this “little” adventure of ours, neither of us had really done any backpacking; we’d both done a good bit of camping before, but nothing like this. Everyday seemed to hold a new lesson about what it would take to live on the trail.

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Simple lessons learned on the trail: best technique for climbing over fallen trees

I guess you could say the mountains were “testing” us, giving us a run for our money, proving whether or not we had the wear-with-all to walk the entire 2,189 miles to Georgia. Blisters were forming on our feet and I had them appearing ominously on my collar bones, right where my 45lb overloaded backpack sat rubbing heavily. An overloaded backpack filled with everything EXCEPT a back-up water purification method…Crap.

When our water filter stopped working, we were in the middle of a remote  stretch of trail called the 100 Mile Wilderness, which is essentially 100 miles of trail with zero road access; so once you go in, it’s totally up to you to get yourself out. It’s pretty much the worst place on the entire Appalachian Trail to have a critical piece of gear, like a water filter, fail.

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Taking in the vast, expansive section of the 100 Mile Wilderness

Ale and I surveyed our options and decided to boil all of our drinking water for the next few days rather than risk a bought of giardia. We would be cutting it close, but if we took care we should have just enough fuel to get us to Monson, the first town at the end of the 100 Mile Wilderness where our first re-supply box awaited us.

The next two days were brutal. Each morning we pulled ourselves from our warm, dry sleeping bags only to be greeted by cold, damp clothing that never dried in the wet night air. The mountains battered us with steep ascents to cold, windy summits followed by slippery, knee-jarring descents. At the base of the mountains, we were met by swollen, freezing, fast-flowing rivers that had to be crossed carrying our packs overhead, soaking us to the bone. All the while the mosquitos tortured our psyche, swarming our heads and attacking any exposed flesh.

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Ale going “all in” to cross the swollen rivers and find the trail. He came back to carry my pack across, as I was afraid if I slipped it would pull me under and I’d drown

I was jolted awake on the morning of the third day sans-water filter by a terrible dream that ended with us running out of fuel. I looked around the dark and quiet lean-to, reassured that it was just a dream. We were 19 miles from Monson, about 2 days of hiking (at this point we didn’t have our “trail legs” and hiking 11 miles in one day was a pretty big deal). I pulled out our camp stove and fired it up, pouring in water to boil.

Just as the water began to boil I heard the distinct sound of the canister emptying it’s last bit of fuel and *poof* we suddenly had no way of purifying our water or cooking the rest of our food.

Once again Ale and I surveyed our options as we gulped down our half-cooked mac and cheese. After nearly a week of soaking rains the likelihood of finding any wood dry enough to start a fire was low to none. Neither of us had much drinking water left, I had maybe half a canteen and Ale had half his Camelbak. Aside from Nutri-grain bars and trail mix, the only food we had left required cooking for eating. It looked as though we would have to try to push out the last 19 miles in one day with no water.

We left camp with a sense of urgency, climbing up Mount Barren, quickly soaking in the views and moving on. The sky was finally clear and the sun was warm, a nice change from the rain, but not really helping with the thirst. We hiked onward for hours, soon running entirely out of water.

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Taking that very last sip of water

My mouth was parched as we hiked along, sweat beading up on my brow. As we came around a bend in the trail, we saw two hikers ahead of us, walking along the river. They didn’t have any backpacks, and appeared to have just hiked a short distance to check out the trail. Ale ran ahead to ask if they had any water they could spare.

Now- mind you, we are looking pretty worn and torn by now. Neither of us have had a proper shower in 12 days, we smell…simply awful. Our clothes are covered in dirt and sweat. By most accounts we probably looked a little bit crazy, suddenly emerging from the woods. However, none of that seemed to phase Jake and Gram. Without missing a beat they immediately invited us to follow them back to their campsite nearby where they had bottles of water in ice filled coolers.

Ice. Filled. Coolers. I never thought I would looks so forward to hearing those three words. But after two days drinking boiled/hot water and hours of hiking without a sip of anything, this suddenly seemed like a dream.

We followed Jake and Gram back to their campsite where we met their four other friends- Matt, Russ, Loney and Chad. All six of them had been best friends growing up, and even though they had families now and lived all over the country, once a year they had an annual guys weekend out in the woods.

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Ale and the guys

Before we had even finished introductions I had an ice cold bottle of water in one hand and a double stacked cheeseburger in the other. As we guzzled our water and inhaled our cheeseburgers, they peppered us with questions about what on earth we were doing and how we’d ended up in our current situation.  As I finished my burger, without missing a beat, they passed me another and replaced my empty water bottle with a beer.

Not only did the guys maintain a consistent flow of food and beverages along with their questions and endless jokes, but they offered to drop us in Greenville on their way back to civilization that afternoon. I was overwhelmed by their kindness, their unhesitating willingness to help and their genuine openheartedness.

As we jumped in the back of the truck bed and pulled away from the trail, the wind whipped my hair and I closed my eyes, smiling, relishing in the speed at which we could suddenly move. We’d moved so slowly for the past 12 days, to suddenly be cruising at 80MPH down the dirt logging road was exhilarating to say the least. I let out a belly laugh and watched as the forest zipped by with dizzying speed.

As promised, the guys drove us to Greenville where we were finally able to buy water treatment that would hold us over until we fixed our water filter. We offered them money for gas, which they refused, and instead they offered take us all the way to Monson (a good 20 minutes out of their way) so that we could resupply food. Their selfless generosity flowed like a swift moving river, and it lifted us up and carried us onward, momentarily allowing us to lay back and simply rest.

When we reached Monson, they wished us luck on the rest of our crazy adventure, shaking their heads and laughing as they piled back into their pickup trucks to head home to their families. Ale and I shouldered our heavy backpacks and walked toward the nearest hostel where we would sleep in a bed for the first time in nearly two weeks. My feet ached, my muscles ached, my blisters threatened to pop and my bug bites itched- but all I could feel was the lightness of my dancing heart, so thankful for the simple act of kindness from a few random strangers. For the next 2070 or so miles, this lightness would remain with me in many ways, carried forward by the kindness of many more strangers, and would play an essential part of my journey toward Georgia.

Our capacity to be kind to one another is truly remarkable and one of our greatest treasures. We all share this capacity, regardless of race, religion, gender or ethnicity. Throughout our lives, opportunities to offer simple acts of kindness often arise out of nowhere. Our lives intertwine unexpectedly in the most essential of moments. Each time we cross paths with someone, each time we have a conversation or share a random encounter, we have the opportunity to choose kindness. And when we do, we can only imagine how far that simple act of kindness may travel…

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Letting Go of the Weight of The World

/ Greta Matos / 6 Comments

I dropped heavily into the back seat of the car, exhausted from a full day bouncing between production lines and meetings with factory engineers. The air conditioning was a welcome escape from the hot, thick air of summer in China. I stared out the window, trying to clear my mind. The streets were packed. People were everywhere, walking with umbrellas to fend off the sun, others driving cars, riding bicycles or tractors or some bizarrely constructed vehicle that seemed to be a combination of both. This place felt so heavy. For me, at this moment in time, China felt heavy and full; full of meetings, full of people, full of factories to visit, full of pollution, full of fires I had to put out, full of billions of things being manufactured in every single breath I took, full of potential and full of irreparable damage. It was Just. So. Full.

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A moment in the streets of China

My driver made his way aggressively down the crowded streets, at times pulling up onto the sidewalk (full of pedestrians mind you) in order to avoid the red lights and traffic jams. Oh how badly I wanted to teleport myself back to my tiny apartment in Hong Kong and retire for the day. Finally we made it to the highway onramp and began accelerating. I watched as the half-constructed sky-scrapers faded behind us, replaced by flat stretches of watery rice fields.

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The ever-present cranes line the skylines of nearly every Chinese city I have ever stepped foot in

Suddenly, without warning, my driver slammed on the breaks, threw the car in reverse and spun us around, quickly accelerating and flying past the ramp we had just used to get on. Startled, I leaned forward just in time to see a line of cars that were blocking the entire highway, sitting at a standstill. Apparently my driver was trying to save us from hours in this traffic jam, but as a result we were cruising the wrong way down the highway at 70 MPH. I sat deeper in my seat and thought, what the hell are we doing?

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Just another chaotic traffic jam in China

At that moment, this question wasn’t inspired solely by my driver and the fact that we were flying in the wrong direction way too fast. It was a much bigger question that had woven itself into my view of the world. It was a question embedded in the products my company was sourcing for our clients. It was a question embedded in my mind every time I walked across a bridge with water flowing beneath it so polluted I had to cover my nose and quicken my step. It was a question that taunted me after I began having to wear masks whenever I left my apartment in order to keep my lung condition from worsening. It was a question embedded in the realization that everything, every single thing, carries with it a cost when we choose to bring it into existence.

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I continue to struggle with chronic inflammation in my lung tissue due to the black carbon exposure while living in China

The weight of it all settled on me silently, almost unconsciously and even as I continued with my work, that “what the hell are we doing” question just wouldn’t let me be. And yet, what could I do? I was just one person, this massive system had been around far longer than I had, and “business as usual” just felt so… usual. The experience burned me out. It shut me down, stole away my fuel for inspiration and reinforced the belief that it was all too big for me to have an impact that mattered. It made me feel small and insignificant.

I felt this way the other day, as I walked the shores of the Rio Trancura, along the outskirts of Pucon. Since October 1st, I’ve made time everyday to get outside. Some days I have hours to spend out exploring. Other days I might only be able to steal away for a half hour or so. Regardless, I try to find new spots every day, and I am finding that it’s a beautiful way to constantly discover new angles through which to see this lovely place I call home.

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A sunny afternoon hike up the Rio Turbio outside of Pucon

In addition to getting outside everyday, I have committed to post a photo of any trash that I happen to collect during my adventure. My intention from the start was to raise our collective consciousness of the stuff we consume. The entire project has turned into a kind of experiment, and I can feel how radically it’s already shifting my perspective as my mental filters change and I continuously acknowledge the incredible volume of stuff around us, even in this wild and remote corner of the world.

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All of the trash I packed out during this same sunny hike up the Rio Turbio

As I pulled into the somewhat overgrown lot with a dirt boat ramp, my eyes immediately swept back and forth between the huge piles of trash. It looked as though the area was recently designated as the public dump. I was shocked. Throughout my efforts this month, I’ve picked up a lot of trash, much more than I have in the past, mainly, I think, because I just see more of it now. But this place was by far the most polluted and it just kept getting worse as I edged closer to the river.

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A discouraging site as I pulled up to the trailhead

I got out of the car, let the dogs out, put my backpack on and began walking toward the river. As I walked to the water’s edge, I looked to my left and right, trying to decide which way to go explore; but all I could see was trash. Everywhere. Instead, I walked back up to the car, took my gloves and trash bags out of my backpack and left my pack in the car. Today would not be about the adventure. Today was about the trash.

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I was so pissed off at the end of this day. I spent about an hour collecting trash along that incredibly beautiful river, and I was never more than 100 feet from my car the entire time. I focused on the trash closest to the river, along the trail and in the sand. I packed out diapers, paint cans, cardboard boxes, bottles, plastic, cans, clothing and by far the most styrofoam to date. 3 kayakers floated by, waving at me as they moved along; 4 large rafting groups also passed by. The sight of them discouraged me, as I felt indignant that they were not making more effort to care for this precious place we were all so lucky to enjoy.

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I lugged the two trash bags that I had filled back to the car, cursing that I hadn’t thought to bring more. I sat in the car with the engine off feeling heavy. Feeling that same silent weight I felt when I was in China, when I was just becoming so aware of the amount of stuff we were producing. Here the weight was tied to my heightened awareness of all the stuff we were consuming. My efforts felt futile, small and insignificant. The two bags of trash in my car didn’t even appear to make a dent in the garbage that remained. Yet again I felt like we were speeding the wrong way down a highway and I was sitting there wondering what the hell are we doing?

Over time, I have found that confronting big, heavy, challenging realities can be overwhelming and discouraging. I have also found that confronting them can lead to some of the most inspiring and motivating work I have ever done in my life. The trick, for me anyway, is to first get out from under the weight of it all, to begin by letting go of the weight of the world. We simply do not have enough strength or space to bear this weight while also imagining positive solution-oriented ideas that lead to incredible change. While the process of getting really pissed off and angry about a certain reality can be a pivotal catalyst for action, in order to be effective with whatever action you take, you have to let go of that anger and frustration to make space for all the creative juices to flow.

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I draw so much inspiration from wild places

For me, the most powerful way I have learned to let go and make space is to go outside into nature. After reaching an overwhelming state of cynicism during my first few years working in global manufacturing, it wasn’t until I retreated to the Appalachian Trail and removed myself from the discouraging environment that I really began to see how I could influence change in this space.

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Learning to let go of the weight of the world while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail

Sometimes you have to go out to go in. After my angry evening on the river, I decided I should go climb a mountain the next day. I went to a remote area where I would have to work physically to muscle my way up. As I hiked up the steep trail, I spent time with all of my thoughts and frustrations from the day before. I acknowledged them, dug a bit to the core of what was motivating them, and then I let them go. The higher I climbed the lighter I felt. As I entered the incredible mixed coihue and araucaria forest I stopped repeatedly, leaning back and staring in awe at the huge trees. A child-like grin spread across my face as I was filled with delight and wonder by my surroundings.

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An amazing, massive araucaria reaching for the sunshine. This tree is around 1000 years old, inspiring awe and deserving respect

As I reached the ridge I stopped to catch my breath and take in the view of the three incredible volcanos on the horizon.

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I felt invigorated and strong. I continued along the trail and began thinking about different approaches I could take to inspire curiosity about the things we buy. I explored how I could motivate changes in behavior locally in a way that could also inspire others globally. I imagined tangible solutions I could contribute to immediately, and played with big, fantastic solutions that had huge-reaching impacts. I just let all of the creative ideas come in and excite me and it literally felt as though my excitement about these solutions was filling the space I had made when letting go of the anger about the problems. I didn’t feel heavy with this invisible weight, I felt lifted by this invisible force.

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I can do this. You can do this. We can do this. Whatever it is- whatever impossibly huge thing you want to tackle, whatever negative thing that you see in the world that you believe can be turned into a positive- it can be done. Don’t be discouraged by the weight of the world. It is not your responsibility to carry it. It is important to acknowledge it, to face it and see it for what it is, but then let it go. Let it go and get on with the good stuff, the stuff that excites and inspires.

The Work You Can’t Not Do

/ Greta Matos / 9 Comments

My legs were on fire, the muscles burning with exhaustion from the effort to overcome gravity and continue up the steep slope through the knee-deep snow. The sun shone warmly, reflecting bright rays back up from the white, untouched snow. The bright blue sky was a welcome surprise, having begun the day under heavy cloud cover and the prospect of rain. The air was brisk with the slightest hint of warmth, a whisper of the coming spring. My heart felt fit to burst, but not from the exercise, it was pumping wildly from the ear-to-ear smile across my face, overflowing with gratitude and joy for this moment, in this place, and every single moment before it that brought me here. Gratitude for the feeling of full participation in my own life.

Taking a moment to catch my breath and embrace all the beauty around me

Taking a moment to catch my breath and embrace all the beauty around me

A year ago I let go of a lot of things I loved in order to make space for the things that truly brought me joy in life. I left a company filled with wonderful people, and work that was fulfilling and meaningful. I also left a daily commute through the bustling city streets of San Francisco and the required daily onslaught of emails and hours in front of a computer in the confines of an office building. I left a comfortable little rent-controlled one-bedroom in Noe Valley with a hot tub and a lemon tree. I also left the “need” for a bigger home and more things to fill it with. I left beloved wild places all around the USA that I could have spent a lifetime exploring. I also left the limitation of the brief two-day weekend window in which I was allowed to explore them.

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My last year in San Francisco I tried to find balance between city life and my love of the outdoors, but ultimately the desire to be outdoors outweighed all else

As I take a break in the middle of this mountain in Southern Chile, on a Tuesday, my snowboard strapped to my back, my chest heaving, the sunshine drawing sweat from my brow- that joy and gratitude threatening to burst forth from my heart is inspired by that decision to choose a different path for my life. It is a brief moment taken to celebrate the delicacy of life, to acknowledge the preciousness of it, and to be thankful for the courage to step onto the unmarked path and break trail on my own.

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Literally breaking trail in the Chilean mountains behind my home in Southern Chile

Recently I received news that a beautiful soul had lost his life while climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. To say the least, Scott Dinsmore was a beacon of light in this world. In his very brief time on this planet, he directly impacted hundreds of thousands of people, inspiring them to let go of the things in their life that aren’t working to pursue what they are passionate about. With all of his interactions- in person, over email, or in his writing/recordings online, he emitted an energy that was both inspiring and challenging, that embraced you while also pushing you. And he could achieve this without even really knowing you. He built a global community, Live Your Legend, that existed with the sole purpose of positively encouraging one another to pursue our dreams and build a meaningful life. With the news of his death, this community came together and thousands of people have expressed how Scott changed their lives, many of whom he never even met.

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The last Instagram photo that Scott posted before going offline to climb Mount Kilimanjaro

This, is a life well lived. Regardless of its length, the depth of his life is simply incredible.

In his last blog post he wrote about the decision to book this trip to Mount Kilimanjaro. He talks about how it almost didn’t happen because of fear, and how it would have been a tragedy if he had not decided to go for it:

“I almost decided not to book this Tanzania trip because I didn’t think I could (or should) step away. How ridiculous is that? To pass up an adventure I’ve talked about for years – because I’d convinced myself I couldn’t disconnect. Or more truthfully, because I couldn’t find the courage to do it.

That would have been a tragedy.”

The gut reaction when reading these words is that it was a tragedy for him to have gone for it, because by doing so he lost his life. But that is the kicker of it all- it is not a tragedy for him, it is a tragedy for those of us who feel the pain of his loss. For him, it is a grand success. It is the essence of the life that he decided to live. Mount Kilimanjaro was the whole point of the journey up to that moment, and had he not pursued it, then it would have been him who experienced the tragedy of a dream unfollowed. Scott didn’t die just doing something that he loved, he died having lived a life that he truly loved, one he celebrated often, and as a result one that will continue to inspire love, risk and a tireless addiction to life in countless other people around this world.

We should all be so bold. We should all be so courageous to consider pursuing a life that threatens to explode our hearts with gratitude because it is simply So. Damn. Beautiful. How different would this world look if we did? That is what Scott was trying to accomplish, and he certainly initiated the ripples necessary to bring about waves of positive change.

For me, this year has been all about embracing this boldness. I’ve taken time to redefine the work that I do, and take it beyond the confines of the corporate definition. And I’ve committed to spending more time in wild places, which brings me the purest form of joy and inspiration. Although I have a much less “public” life than Scott, and I am still exploring the delicate vulnerability of using my voice in a public manner, his boldness with his own vulnerability is a constant source of inspiration for me as I embark on new adventures in a public space. I know that I met Scott for a reason and that I too have an opportunity to inspire others by encouraging a tireless addiction to life by choosing to live deeply myself.

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Take a moment to jump for joy when you feel as though your heart may explode with gratitude. Laugh, run, turn your face toward the sun and jump.

In January 2016, I am planning to ride my horse, self-supported, along the length of the Chilean Patagonia. The estimated distance will be 1200KM (around 745 miles) of the Carretera Austral, although we’ll likely be venturing off trail quite a bit as I connect with local ranches en route. I am estimating that the ride will take two months, and it will take us through some of the most pristine and wild places I have ever experienced. The purpose of my ride is to celebrate simplicity while inspiring curiosity. I will be focusing on the necessity to travel light (and as a result reduce our general consumption and the negative impact on the planet) and celebrate the simplicity of life on the trail.

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Getting ready to take to the mountains of Patagonia on horseback!

I will also be weaving my passion for sustainable supply chains and corporate social responsibility into my ride. Rather than asking companies to sponsor me with new gear, I’ll be connecting with a handful of the companies who made the things already I own, and asking them to sponsor transparency in their supply chain by helping me tell the story of where my things come from. It’s a little like “Worn Wear” meets “Planet Money Makes A T-Shirt”– I plan to weave the stories of the raw materials, the factory production, the transcontinental shipping, all of these “life-stories” of my things, into the stories of our adventures in the harsh and wild conditions of Patagonia. My intent in doing this is to tell beautiful stories that invoke curiosity about product life cycles, inspire reflection on the life we give the things we own, and motivate action that encourages greater transparency in supply chains globally.

Something that Scott said during his TedEx talk several years ago was “What is the work you can’t not do?”- and these words are on repeat now as I wrap my head around the logistics, the costs, and the raw reality of embracing this adventure. This ride will challenge me physically, mentally and emotionally, but it will also challenge me to use my voice in a way that is meaningful- to lead a revolution beyond just conscious consumerism toward curious consumerism, and to bring environmental impact to the forefront of all business and personal consumption decisions. This is the work I can’t not do.

So with that, I am putting this out there in an effort to open every door possible and see the “hows” unfold. All the pieces of this expedition puzzle are not yet in place, but Scott also said you should take “imperfect action”- even if you aren’t 100% ready- so here I go. I ask that if you are interested in contributing to this adventure and revolution in any way, feel free to reach out to me here – I am always looking for thought partners! You can also follow along with updates on the expedition as it evolves here.

Finally, if you want to join me in my efforts to build a community of Curious Consumers, watch this space, I will soon be creating a place where you can join me in taking the Pledge.

The last thing I’ll leave you with is one simple question, the question that Scott asked himself when he left the work he didn’t love and began his pursuit to build Live Your Legend; the question that has become an affirmation for me as I attempt to take on one of the most challenging experiences and works of my life; and the question that could change your life if you give it some real thought:

What is the work you can’t not do?

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If You Don’t Love It, Don’t Buy It: The Shift to Consuming Consciously

/ Greta Matos / 2 Comments
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There is great opportunity when we realize the impact of our individual actions, and collectively choose to engage.

The audit report sat heavily on my desk, the weight of it bearing down on my heart.  The situation sounded like a recipe for disaster…the perfect storm for the next tragedy on the front page of the morning news.  Thoughts of the recent fires at Ali Enterprises filled my mind, the lives lost due to working conditions similar to those documented within the report I had just read.  Locked exits; barred windows; children as young as 12; no fire extinguishers or fire drills conducted; unsafe electrical wiring; the list went on and on.  I felt powerless, this factory was not my factory, it was not manufacturing any products that I was directly ordering.  I did not own the relationship with this factory management, nor did I have any opportunity to directly influence them.  My client, who was manufacturing product in this factory, would immediately halt production and move it elsewhere as a result of this audit report, the risk of a future factory fire or child labor scandal being too great to manage, the need to ensure their products were not being manufactured in this type of facility, the foundation of their company code of conduct blatantly disregarded.

I was taken back to my very first time stepping onto a factory floor in China.  I was 22, juggling the shock of all the sites, sounds and smells I had been experiencing since entering the manufacturing-driven factory cities where we would be sourcing our products.  As I walked down the production lines, young workers looked up at me, staring as they continued their monotonous task, watching me walk along the line inspecting their work.  I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through their minds, the looks on their faces entirely unreadable.  Later I sat in the sample room, watching my boss negotiate the cost of our tooling and per piece product price, down to the half cent.  We had three priorities in that room- timeline/production turnaround, material and product quality, and price.  Those were the priorities during that initial negotiation, that was all that would determine if we placed production in that facility.  The faces of those workers were not yet a part of the conversation.

My experience during that first visit is not necessarily the status quo of how every brand and retailer chooses to source product globally, however, it is the reality of the priority for most companies when they begin building relationships with factories.  The company I was working for was not a “bad” company with ill intentions, actually it was full of well-intentioned caring individuals who were raising families and simply doing business as usual. I have spent years working with companies to manage the challenges that are uncovered by audits, the poor working conditions or environmental practices, the lack of systems or understanding of requirements.  More than anything, this work has shown how critical that very first meeting with factory management is, that very fundamental establishment of priorities, establishing what matters most.  Had my client taken into account the zero tolerance issues that were a part of the audit in the very beginning of that factory relationship, production would never have begun. But, does that mean these people working there would have been safer as a result? No.

Getting back to this moment, sitting in my office in the city, the evening turning dark, contemplating what to do with this Pakistan factory report.  My struggle was not that my client had begun production in this factory in the first place; my struggle was that there would be no one left caring once my client left.  My client’s own ability to influence change would be limited even if they did choose to engage with this factory, as their production orders only made up 5% of the factory’s output, and would be limited to one production run anyway.  This report would be sent, production of this product would be stopped but the production of the other factory customers would continue; there would be no one asking any more questions, evaluating conditions and pushing the management to create a work environment that was safe and positive. I left the office in tears, frustrated with my lack of ability to keep those people safe, my lack of ability to directly motivate positive change.

From all of these years spent working in this industry, I have a pretty unique view into the complex and dynamic environments  in which most of the products we buy are made all around the world. I have inevitably adapted a cautiousness to consumerism, bearing this weight of my conscience in knowing the conditions in which a product may have been harvested or manufactured, depending on the country of production as well as the monitoring practices and messaging of the company.  So much exposure to so many problems, challenges, and complex social and environmental conditions can be discouraging, but it can also be a huge motivator for influencing change.  Knowledge of this reality presents a profound opportunity to rethink the broken model, to come at these challenges from a different angle, to motivate and inspire change that will enable consumers as well as business executives to be conscious of the impact of their buying decisions, but will also engage them as citizens, helping us all to realize that we are all connected to the products we choose to buy and the places we choose to go.

At this moment I write this blog from the top of a cliff overlooking the Pacific coast along a stretch of sand lining the middle of Chile.  The products that I carry with me as I travel and explore must serve multiple purposes in order to make the cut.  They must be durable, resilient, fixable and reusable.  Out of bare necessity I need these products to function in this way, if they don’t serve a purpose daily, I don’t really need them.  I adapted this perspective while thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail- where every single thing you carry literally weighs you down, and when you feel the physical weight of all the items you own, your priorities shift dramatically.  Efficiency and purpose are core.  The companies manufacturing the products you use must stand by them and be prepared to support in the repair in order for the product to last through your journey.  If you extend your vision of “this journey” to be your time spent on this Earth, now you have a standard to hold them accountable to.  Even now as I now backpack through the Andes of Chile I carry on my back my Gregory backpack that I bought six years ago and have carried literally thousands of miles, across multiple mountain ranges all around the world.  I intend to pass it on to my children.

We all want to buy things without the weight of negative realities that challenge our own ethical boundaries bearing down on us.  We all want to have access to products that can reassure us that this product did not make the lives of those who made it worse, it did not contribute to further damaging our Earth.  So, what can be done?  Most simply put, if you don’t love it, don’t buy it.

Consider the life of everything you purchase- question how, where and why it was made.  Consider how where and why you will use it- how often and for how long.

Consider where it will go when you are finished with it- will it go in a landfill?  Can it be recycled?  Better yet, can it be upcycled?  Could it be composted?  Has the company who created that product also created a path for it to follow once you are done using it?

How does the company who sells this product talk about its supply chain?  Do they have a Code of Conduct, and more importantly how do they explain it to their suppliers?  Don’t demand perfection, demand transparency.  Begin asking questions, challenge companies to provide answers, not public relations soundbites or flashy sustainability reports. Become conscious of your actions and acquisitions and believe me, everything will change.

I try to put forth every effort to consider whether or not I will really love a product once I have bought it- from that essential waterproof jacket to the kitchen chopping knife.  Believe it or not, I am by no means a minimalist, I understand and appreciate the comforts of “things” that I like to indulge in, and I believe that there are many products that bring people joy and do generally improve our lives. However, I hope to inspire others to join me in this path of conscious consumerism- to evaluate our purchases with a greater sense of purpose, and to truly consider the impact that every dollar spent on a product has on the past and future of humanity.  To demand more of the companies we buy from, but to remain conscious of the fact that they are wrestling with incredibly difficult and complex realities of a global supply chain and therefore perfection is not what must be demanded, progress and transparency is.  Because it is all connected, I have witnessed it intimately and whether we like it or not we all have a hand in the futures that our children will live, as well as the present day of others halfway around the world.

So with that I ask…what is the last thing you bought that you stopped and thought, “Man I am going to love having this”?  How much do you know about the manufacturing practices of the companies you buy from, have you ever wondered about their ethical philosophy?  Just to begin, check out this great little rundown created by the Story of Stuff Project to encourage conscious consumerism.  I encourage you to begin asking, to start the conversation and continue it, because we can make a difference one at a time, we can influence change directly in a positive way, we simply need to choose to do so. There is vast opportunity to join this revolution, to change the way that we interact with our environment and with one another, to reevaluate and align our priorities with what truly matters most to us.  I don’t know about you, but I am diving in headfirst.