I Am Large! I Contain Multitudes!
A few notes on my goings on and what's to come in 2025
Hey folks.
Recently I’ve had a sudden influx of subscribers who do not know me outside of Substack. This post offers some context for who the heck I am and who I am becoming. But rest assured, I’ve also include some curiosities for folks who’ve been here a while.
Thanks so much for hanging out. Thanks so much for supporting my writing.
I love you all.
-Tom
A Few Notes On More
Allow me to quickly introduce myself. My name is Tom Griffen and I am a self employed, nontraditional, freelance professional currently working in various fields. I make my living as a writer, retail trainer, public speaker, personal coach/guide, visual artist, and reseller of curiosities. Sometimes I do body work, too. And I probably should get back to doing it since I am really good at it.
If you ever happen to ask me what I do, my answer will likely be whittled down for brevity. I don’t want to subject you to my scattered array of circuitous hustles and bustles. But make no mistake, I do a lot. I work more these days than I ever did at any of my past 9-to-5s. The difference these days, however, is in how it all feels.
Compared to when I had office jobs, my workload these days doesn’t really seem like work. It just feels like life. Every bit of what I do represents who I am and what I believe in. This reality is the result of a conscious choice. A dedication to the kind of life I know lifts me up.
I should also mention that if I didn’t have to make money, I’d spend my days doing 3 simple things: I’d write, walk, and visit friends. My life would be a simple yet endless cycle of creative thought, physical movement, and intimate togetherness. Ironically, my life is mostly this already—how lucky I am! But I do wish it wasn’t loaded with unequivocal financial responsibilities. I monetize the things I’d do anyhow so I can afford monthly rent payments, student loans, car expenses, and an occasional new pair of walking shoes so my legs don’t ache as much.
I share all this because if you are reading this, you are consuming something I’ve created. It stands to reason that you enjoy or, at the very least, you are curious about my stuff. As such, I want to point you in the direction of more! I am large! I contain multitudes!
Last week someone asked me if I had any of my books on hand for sale. Unfortunately I didn’t have any copies of my best-seller, With a Good Heart, but I do have a handful of the accompanying poetry book, Imagine the Sea, along with a dozen copies of my book of travel essays, Vacilando. (I also have other books for sale HERE, too). It’s probably too late to guarantee a before-Christmas delivery, but you never know! Hit me up if you are interested in a signed copy of what I have in my home inventory. I’ll ship for free for the rest of the month.
I also always have bunny paintings ready to go. My obsession for these suckers has amounted to more than a thousand hung randomly worldwide with a note on the back saying, “Congratulations—you found me! Now take me home!” If you’ve been lucky enough to find one hanging somewhere in the wild, great! If not, and you simply must have one (for you or someone else), I will make one just for you. Like my books, these fanciful bits of fun-loving, folksy art make great gifts.
Additionally, if you need a guest speaker or keynote or storyteller or experienced professional trainer for your next company gathering, I encourage you to consider me. After 20 years of honoring my craft, I am pretty great at what I do. My uplifting content and engaging delivery style suits any business that wants to bring their team closer together. I guarantee a thought-provoking and inspirational event! More info can be found on my website.
And finally, if you are not already a paid subscriber to this Substack, I would surely appreciate your financial backing. This year I wrote more than 50 essays that amounted to probably over 750 total clocked desk hours. Your $5 per month is the sort of nudge that helps me justify this massive expenditure of precious and limited time.
No matter what, I thank you big time for your ongoing support!
A Few Notes On Now, Then, and What’s Ahead
I had planned to write a summary here of 2024’s highlights, but every time I sat down to start it, I became stymied by the scope of the year’s events (I thought) I wanted to weave together. A sampling of these happenings:
- Caretaking for my mom, which, perhaps, was the hardest and most sacrificially rewarding thing I’ve ever done (and am doing).
- Witnessing the momentum of my consulting business come to a screeching halt while, coincidentally, the 3 work events I did do (compared to last year’s 30) were the absolute best I’ve ever done and reminded me of what I am really, really, really fucking good at.
- My despair as my savings account grew smaller and smaller. My realization that my age-old money trauma is alive and well and it doesn't take much for me to feel like once my green paper is gone, I am too. I really need to get a grip on this.
- My 6-month long debilitating injury—a dislocated cuboid in my right foot that kept me in a constant state of worry that I’d have to pull out of long-planned reunion trip with my oldest and dearest friend. Or worse, that it might keep me from ever being able to walk long distances again.
- A reunion backpacking trip to Auyuittuk National Park on Canada’s Baffin Island with my best friend, Kent (I already wrote 9 essays about this adventure, and there’s still so much more to say).
- A year’s worth of heart palpitations and cardiologist visits that deepened my already ongoing and poignant conversations with death—until I learned the arrhythmias were all stress-induced and I began to embrace the inevitability (if not the beautiful terror) of my own eventual demise.
- More live music than I’ve ever seen before, including IDLES at Rabbit Rabbit in Asheville, which was the best show I’ve ever attended (I wrote about it here, too).
- A regional cicada storm that eerily swirled in the air for months, a time-stopping solar eclipse, two instances of unexpected northern lights, a couple new tattoos, and nearly adopting a dog on multiple occasions.
And, of course, plenty more…
I sought to find a common thread that made it easier to understand this trying year. I squeezed metaphors from memories and worked them together like an impossible puzzle. My brain wanted a pattern, and do did I. I squinted hard in order to make my dizzying efforts and miscalculations and confusions made good damn sense. But it was all in vain. Nothing made sense. It just was. It just is.
If anything, the unifying factor of 2024 was introspection. I spent a lot of time looking inward. A lot of time questioning myself, my narratives, my choices. Many of my Substack essays reflect this, but they don’t show the half of it.
At times I felt burdened by all this contemplation. Stifled by it, even. I spent more time in my head than I did tromping through leaves. More time thinking than I did listening to rainfall, sweeping up clouds of porch pollen, sketching narwhals at my farm table, carving miniature spoons from my dad’s blanks, or wondering about all the possibilities for a million tomorrows. Instead of dreaming, I analyzed. I thought so much about so many things that I stopped reciting my daily affirmations. I lost sight of the skies. And in the thick of it all, I regularly forgot how to just be.
2025 was a year of pressing details, complex logistics, and sensible answers. The year demanded it, and I did what I could to stay upright, front and center. Now, as I near the end of this year, I am left with an empty tank. And though the emptiness represents a fatigue that demands a hard stop (and some naps), it is also a clue to fresh opportunity. Unknown opportunity, in this case.
I choose to accept this framework as something exciting. Something that’s worth looking forward to because it is unknown. The trust this requires from me has historically been elusive. But after this year’s obstacles, it’s suddenly more accessible. I am better for having endured. For having humbled myself. For letting go of trying to control things.
As I dream about 2025, here’s what lifts me up:
- A professional settling, of sorts. Trusting that all I’ve done up until this point has been enough to help me thrive hereafter.
- Allowing my dedication to care to be a daily driver in my professional life. Whether it’s with speaking engagements, training sessions, or working with clients 1-on-1, never losing sight of the reason I am there in the first place—I am present for them. Oh how fortunate I am to be able to give so much of myself!
- Community. As in, a real and well-grounded community. Holding close friends closer, feeding the relationships that are mutually beneficial, and seeking out delightful nooks that both offer and accept vulnerabilities. I sense that this might be something we all need now more than ever.
- Thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. Starting in early March, I’m giving myself 100 days to do the entire thing. Georgia to Maine. Not 100 days because I want to do it fast. Not even to prove anything to anyone. 100 days because I want to stare a hard thing in the face and love on all that comes with it. I need this love to be the fullest version of myself. I will do it. I will do it with peace. With grace.
- Applying for and being accepted into the 16-month certification program at the Spiritual Guidance Training Institute. A friend told me about it, and even before I knew anything about it I knew it was something I had to do.
- Going nomadic starting in July. For years I’ve felt called to make a life on the road. There are still a lot of questions around this, but I trust I’ll have the answers I need when I need them. Meanwhile, anyone got a reliable van for sale?
Not too long ago I came across these few lines: “Ultimately, most of us are not that wise. We’re not really trying to be free of our own stuff. We’re actually trying to justify keeping it.”
May 2025 be a year where I give away all that’s superfluous. May it be a year during which I refill and refuel with all the right bits and pieces. May 2025 be an uncluttered open space where the peripheral chaos is kept at bay (and there surely will be chaos).
May we, you and I, find this place together.
I do not compete with others,
I compete only with myself,
For my progress is my true victory.