Mo’Magic Winter 2025

Wait, wait, wait—it's the winter holidays ALREADY?! I could have sworn we were all making ambitious New Year's resolutions approximately five minutes ago. You know, the ones about drinking more water, finally organizing that junk drawer, becoming a morning person? Yeah, those. But here we are, hurtling toward the end of another year like time itself has somewhere important to be. Rude, honestly.

So, is it cold where you are? (Please say yes, because suffering through winter without the cozy aesthetic is just cruel. Nobody wants lukewarm December.) Are you gearing up to visit family and friends? Fantastic! Planning a fun New Year's celebration? Even better! I'm genuinely rooting for you here.

Ah yes, it's that magical time of year: twinkling lights, cozy sweaters, heartwarming gatherings, the smell of cookies baking, and—let's be honest—at least one spectacularly awkward conversation about your life choices over dinner. "So, when are you getting married?" "Have you thought about buying a house?" "Why are you still single?" It's all part of the charm, really. The holidays wouldn't be complete without “Aunt Karen's” unsolicited opinions or your cousin's humble-brag about their promotion. Drama: it's the gift that keeps on giving!

But here's the real real talk: whether you're absolutely loving every festive second or just white-knuckling your way to January 2nd with a forced smile and a glass of wine, please carve out some time for you. Your mental health isn't just important; it's non-negotiable. You can't pour from an empty cup (yes, I said it, and I meant it). Take that walk. Read that book. Hide in the bathroom for ten minutes (or much longer) of peace. Do whatever you need to do.

So take a breath. Be ridiculously kind to yourself. Set boundaries if you need to. And remember: you're going to make it through this season, drama and all—and you might even find some genuine joy and connection along the way.

Here's to hoping your holidays are filled with more warmth than weirdness, more laughter than stress, and more magic than mayhem. You've got this. 🎉

Warm Wishes,

Robert

Six WONDERFUL Years of Emancipation from Corporate Enslavement

October 31, 2019: the day I officially freed myself from corporate enslavement. (Okay, slightly dramatic, but it genuinely felt like breaking out of prison.) And six years later? I've finally cracked the code on "live life first" mode.

Here's the thing: my father passed at 62. I turned 54 in 2025. That gives me 8 years. Morbid? Maybe. But honestly, it's the best wake-up call I could ask for.

Now, I live deliberately. Work exists—sure, it's there—but life? Life takes priority. I block out my calendar for what actually matters: projects that spark joy, time with incredible friends, reconnecting with people who make my world better. My mornings? Reserved for customer calls (when I'm not fiercely protecting my "me time"), and I only work with clients I genuinely enjoy.

Some people might think counting down sounds dark, but for me, it's liberating. It's permission to say no to nonsense and yes to meaning. It's choosing presence over productivity, connection over chaos.

So here's to living intentionally, working selectively, and making every single year count—because time's too precious to waste on anything less. 🎉

My 2025: A Year of Roads, Reflections, and Real Connections

Co-Author: Claude.ai

This year, I found myself drawn to the open road more than ever before. There's something about putting miles between yourself and the familiar that makes space for everything you didn't know you needed to think about.

The American Heartland Called

I bought a National Parks annual pass this year, which felt like a small commitment that turned into something much bigger. Yosemite, Rocky Mountains, Zion, Bryce Canyon, Kolob Canyon, Arches—each one humbled me in its own way. Standing at the edge of these places, I was reminded how small I am, and somehow that felt comforting rather than diminishing.

The roadtrips became their own form of meditation. San Francisco to Montana. San Francisco to Denver. San Francisco to Tennessee. Each journey stitched together a patchwork of America I'd only glimpsed before. I stopped by Graceland, which was surreal in the way only Elvis's former home can be. I rolled through tiny towns—some warm and welcoming, others a bit unsettling in their isolation, but all of them deeply, authentically American in ways that can't be packaged or explained easily.

And then there were the Love's gas stations. If you know, you know. If you don't, well, they're these travel stops scattered across America's highways, and there's something almost poetic about finding one when you need it most. "The loveliest gas you'll ever fill your tank with" became my private joke with myself.

When Nature Gets Real

Not everything went smoothly. In Arches National Park, I learned the hard way what 104-degree heat can do to a body. I pushed through a hike I probably shouldn't have, and heat stroke doesn't care about your determination. That experience taught me something about limits, about listening, about the difference between perseverance and stubbornness. And water, always bring water with you on a hike in 104 degree heat! Shout out to that one guy who gave me one of his bottles of water, which actually saved my life (No joke!).

Then there was the bull. Driving through the middle of Nevada, near Area 51 of all places, I came around a bend and there he was—just standing in my lane. Not a cow. A bull, horn and all. It was just me and him, no one else for miles in either direction. We had a moment, that bull and I. He had no intention of moving so I slowly drove around him, making sure I didn’t provoke him. He had a ‘this is my road dude!’ look on his face and was not about to give up his road to someone who is passing through his territory. He wins! And I’m all for it!

The People Who Made It Matter

But here's what I'll remember most: it wasn't really about the destinations.

Kayaking (see photo below) with Rick and his youngest son Finn (13 yrs) in Montana on a perfect afternoon, watching bald eagles soar overhead while deer grazed on the shoreline and pelicans glided past—that felt like watching life in its most unhurried, honest form. casually floating the river (as the locals call it) and catching up on life, family and friends. It’s those moments of just chatting, not with some objective, but just to be with one another which gives me a sense of ‘being, just being.’ The three of us met up again in NYC (my natural habitat) the weekend they visited the Princeton freshman, Mack (18 yr old, middle son). I took them to the most high energy spot in NYC, Time Square, but not just Time Square, the top step of the stairs so we can overlook the energy flow of the square (see photo below - it’s Rick and his ‘mini-me’, Finn, at that point was 14 yrs). As you can see, it was a little overcast with some drizzle, but we hit some key spots in NYC because NYC does not wait for anyone! Along the way we had Korean BBQ at my favorite place in K-Town (Miss Korean) and had some Shake Shack shakes in the original Shake Shack spot in Madison Square Park.

Biking with Rene across the Golden Gate Bridge (see photo below) turned into a friendly battle of wills. He pushed me just to the edge of breaking a sweat (only because I refused to make it too intense), and waited patiently at the top of every hill. That's friendship, isn't it? Pushing you just enough, but never leaving you behind. We chatted A LOT during our ride, but only when I was able to catch my breath. Rene is just a competitive by nature, but me, I bike to enjoy the sites and spend quality time with a buddy. After our ride, I mapped out an extension of our route that will take us to Tiburon, this will be our next ride when I’m back in the SF Bay Area. At some point, I’ll get an e-bike so we can go as far as Mount TAM! Just kidding, I would never get an e-bike, that defeats the whole purpose of sweating a little! Stay tuned Rene, we’ll continue to expand our routes or find new spots to bike in the Bay!

Camping with Tom in the Great Smokies became hours upon hours of conversation—the kind where you lose track of time and don't mind at all. And apparently, totally forgot to even take a single photo! We barbecued dinner, and I discovered that a bit of char on steak and some burnt fat might be exactly what good food is supposed to taste like. Simple. Real. Shared. This was the first time I’ve EVER driven cross 3 time zones to go hang out with a friend, and it was so worth it! Do not underestimate IRL time (in real life, as the kids say) with close friends to tighten your bond. I remember I did take one snappy of the car just next to the camp site, which you can see below. No photos of Tom & I though. Next time!

My Third December in Italy

For the third year running, I spent December in Italy. This time, Venice claimed most of my attention. There's something about that city in winter—fewer tourists, more locals, the fog rolling in off the water. Rome welcomed me back like an old friend. Milan surprised me with its museums, though I missed seeing the Last Supper because I didn't plan ahead. Maybe that's just Italy's way of making sure I come back.

I ate Italian food, of course, but also found incredible Vietnamese food, satisfying Chinese dishes, and yes, burgers—which somehow taste different in Europe, made with real beef that hasn't been processed within an inch of its life. Gelato and takeaway crepes kept me company on long walks through narrow streets.

What I'm Building

This year, I finally gave structure to something that's been forming in my mind for a long time. I completed the workbook for Mo'Me Mo'Money, my framework for living authentically while creating positive outcomes—financially, emotionally, practically. It's not revolutionary philosophy, but it's practical. The workbook shows people how to leverage AI tools to accelerate their journey toward a more authentic, rewarding life. It feels like the right project at the right time.

I also launched Dharma Desk, an AI art project that asks a simple question: what if we thought beyond the walls of our offices? What if we refused to treat our work spaces like jail cells? It's for anyone who's felt trapped at a desk, wondering if there's more to life than this particular view, this particular ceiling, this particular fluorescent light.

What It All Means

This year taught me that adventure doesn't always look like summiting mountains or crossing borders. Sometimes it's a bull in the road. Sometimes it's heat stroke teaching you about hubris. Sometimes it's waiting for your friend at the top of a hill, or burning the edges of a steak over a campfire while talking about everything and nothing.

I'm learning to say yes to the road, to the unexpected, to the friends who push me just enough. I'm learning that planning is good, but leaving room for the unplanned is better. And I'm learning that the best way to live authentically isn't to find it in isolation, but to build it in conversation—with friends, with strangers, with tiny towns and massive canyons, with bulls who won't move and heat that won't quit.

Here's to the miles behind and the ones still ahead.

Photos for You to Enjoy