They wanted to build a neighborhood on a dry lakebed, so they did. Then the worst rain in decades swept through the area. The weather station called it an atmospheric river, which, to me, seems insulting, knowing that this neighborhood is about to be destroyed by something that sounds like a smooth jazz album.

After I go to Apple Music and search “atmospheric river,” I’ll get back to this story.

The water dumped onto the dry land, too fast to be absorbed into the ground. The dry lakebed wanted to become a lake again. The rain would stop, and the residents felt relief that it might be over. They hoped the water would start to be absorbed back into the ground, but then the rain would start back up again. Pouring down from the charcoal sky, the ground absorbed the water about as well as I absorb information on how crypto works.

During the storm, a weekend retreat for aspiring entrepreneurs is happening at a downtown hotel. Learning powerful hacks, optimization techniques, and marketing strategies to grow their businesses to 6, no, 7, no, 9 figures. Dumping onto them like a business-casual atmospheric river.

High-fives, challenges, PowerPoints, inspiring quotes, and of course, golf metaphors, to flood them with impactful learning nonstop from 6 am till midnight every day. More, more, more; they just can’t get enough.

After the retreat ended, the entrepreneurs headed home. 

“Welcome home, honey! How was the retreat?”

“It was A-MAZE-ING! Nonstop for three days.”

“What did you learn?”

“Umm. A lot.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t really remember; it was so much, but I took notes.”

“What did you like about it?”

“It was just great to be around such an inspiring group of people. I miss that.”

There’s a dried-up sponge somewhere in your house. You know the one. The one you find under the sink or in the garage. Used up and left to dry out in some bucket or an old yogurt container. It’s hard as a rock, a third the size it used to be, and the abrasive side, revered for its scrubbing power, is as fluffy as a freshly blow-dried Pomeranian.

I have one of those sponges, and I keep it in my backpack. I grab it whenever I feel dried up and dehydrated, or just forgotten about. I have ghosted myself in so many buckets until I’m dry as chalk; you’d think that’s how I “unwind.”

Dehydrated by impatience and the chasing of what my Aunt Patty calls “The I wants.”

I want love, I want success, I want community, or just I want a reliable car with air conditioning.

“Mathew, it looks like you have a bad case of the ‘I wants.’”

“But Aunt Patty, I really want that…”

“Give it time, play with what you have; you’ll get over it.”

She also taught me to “Always carry a steak knife.”

Try spraying water on that dry sponge. At first, it will bead off it like a duck’s back, but as soon as something starts to soak in, the sponge swells and hydrates.

Now squeeze the sponge, feel the water rush through your fingers and down your wrist, then open your hand. The sponge keeps its shape and stays that way unless you put it back in the bucket under the sink. Leaving it to dry out and harden again.

If you were dehydrated in the desert and someone gave you a drink of water, that water would feel like magic, but take a drink right now. It’s just water.

What’s wrong with regular ole’ water?

Nothing, unless you don’t notice you’re dehydrated, and someone is trying to sell you tap water for 15k as “magic high-ticket water.”

I take my sponge out of my bag sometimes and run it under the sink faucet. I remember the many times I got what I wanted, and it felt like magic, until I was hydrated. Love and community felt exciting, until they were just another day surrounded by people and obligations. Success had me living my dreams of martial arts stunt work and being a working musician, until it just became a lot of maintenance. I was dressed as a ninja on a film set and, unironically, for the first time in my life, thought, “Thank god it’s Friday,” while just wanting to get home and take off my eyeliner.

My reliable car with air conditioning, driving around the country, camping, filming, and training,  just became a mobile closet for my workout clothes and a backseat full of empty kombucha bottles. So I gave everything I had to keep that first “aha” feeling of hydration, and it led me right back to the old bucket that dried me up in the first place.

I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on water.