Twenty Thirteen was a university of the possible for me. It wrapped up the way you wrap up lunch with an old friend. Awkwardly. You both loved it, but neither knows how to say goodbye.
Twenty Twelve delivered me, cold and wet, on to the streets of San Francisco. The ensuing hours and days took my brightest dreams and darkest fears and smacked me in the face with them.
I started a company from an idea and raised a couple million dollars to build it. I recruited a top flight team, built an app, and now have thousands of people using it every week.
I traveled to seven different countries this year. I meditated with Hindus in India. I snake-charmed with thieves in Morocco. I rowed through the canals in Amsterdam. I ate Jewish desserts till I was silly in Melbourne and cuddled as the sun set in Baja.
I found a new home in San Francisco from São Paulo this year. Making California my home for the second time after 26 long years. I found myself here in the way I needed to, but wasn’t sure I could. I think many people come to SF looking for something, but never find their feet and I was fortunate enough to find mine.
My son started walking. My daughter started school. My wife and I lost a combined 43 pounds. We fell in love all over again as we continue to define what makes a successful marriage.
My kids were kidnapped. The car was stolen with them inside and I called 911, where they asked me to describe my son and my daughter to them, creating a new low in my life. They were found 40 minutes later and returned to us within two hours. Short. But terrifying.
Three employees of my company quit this year. They all left for reasons, but most days I don’t want to confront those reasons. The company and the team today works well and I’m glad things turned out the way they did. But it hurts watching someone walk away.
Soaring highs. Plunging depths.
It’s the human experience. Deciding in a leaping moment that no one else will decide your fate. You might get fired. Your kids might get taken. Your team may abandon you. But the whole earth is still yours for the taking. It may all burn to the ground tomorrow, but today you have a world to change, because you can. You really can. And 2014 will be my year for doing just that.