Finding Your Rhythm: When and What Questions Are as Important as Why Post-FIRE
Yesterday, I got another open mic in. It was great. There were a ton of people there, along with some very accomplished musicians and artists.
The roster filled up fast. I got there only five minutes after the show began, and I was already 10th on the list. Another ten performers came in after me.
I was a little late because I was pushing myself to complete other projects and tasks before I left for the show. I squeezed 55 pounds into a 50-pound bag. Not double, but definitely too much for the capacity of the day.
It’s a rhythm and timing thing.
Going later in the lineup proved to be a bit of a blessing.
So far this summer, I have mostly been early on the roster, typically in the number two through five slots. A three-hour show will usually fit about four performers per hour, or twelve total. But the host and the venue allowed the show to continue for another hour and a half, so everyone got to play three songs.
There are pros and cons to going earlier, but you definitely don’t have much time to ruminate before you get up and play.
One of the acts I had to follow was a trio that absolutely rocked the place.
As I sat there listening to each really good performance, I felt my stage-fright jitters beginning to rise.
Wow… do I really belong up there?
Am I good with the songs I picked?
What order should I play them in?
Did I rehearse enough?
Etc., etc., etc.
That said, I remembered to breathe and take my time.
I stayed present.
Those thoughts either got pushed to the side, or I simply let them pass.
Either way, I got up and delivered.
Afterward, the two singers in the trio complimented my performance and my songs.
“Where’s your band?” they asked.
That question surprised me, and I took it as a compliment.
I told them that it’s just me—for now.
They were kind and enthusiastic, and I was genuinely gratified that they thought so highly of what I did.
Bottom line, after a tough week of performances, this was a great evening.
Johnny Bravo was there, too.
I had decided beforehand to let go of all my silly grousing and simply treat him like a fellow human being and a talented musician.
I made sure to tell him how much I had enjoyed his performances.
I also told him how impressed I was with his professionalism and that I figured he had probably performed at the level of a Nashville musician.
He was very appreciative and said his band wasn’t playing gigs yet because he had just moved up here (from Arizona, I’m assuming).
My new competing theory is that he might actually be the songwriter and simply performs under his middle name.
Another theory is that perhaps he hired people to write and produce songs for him, which would explain why he isn’t listed in the credits.
Either way, I plan to continue being kind, appreciative, and curious.
Maybe the answer will emerge.
It’s a fun mystery.
But what does all of this have to do with finding your rhythm in a post-FIRE lifestyle?
What you do—and when you do it—are critical.
I have known this for a while and have tried to navigate these questions myself, but it’s like going down a river with Class III rapids.
You get knocked around a bit, and you have to be very strategic about where you point your boat.
My plan this week was to play last night’s open mic, then one tonight, another on Wednesday, and perhaps leave for the Tarot conference in Portland on Thursday, arrive a day early to settle in, and still be able to continue my One Hit Wonders on Friday morning.
TBD.
However, here’s an important pattern that is emerging, and I want to Plan around it going forward.
If I really want to pursue my 7C’s strategy in any meaningful way this summer, I need to start ASAP.
As I have settled back into my rhythm after returning from the Southeast, I’ve realized that this is the kind of week I want to be spending in one of the 7C’s I had in mind when the summer began.
Next week is the kind of week I want to stay local.
There are logistical and prioritization factors that make alternating weeks make sense.
But what should I do today?
Or this week?
Not much can be changed now without creating a lot of unnecessary disruption and a scurry of activity.
I have two appointments in town today.
I have two more tomorrow.
Then I’ll be gone for at least three, and perhaps four, days later this week.
You may think this sounds ridiculous, especially if you’re trying to balance a busy professional, artistic, and family life before FIRE.
You might think, “What is up, dude? You have all the time in the world. Just get it done.”
And on one hand, you’d be right.
On the other hand, post-FIRE benefits from radical ownership of your time.
Most of us, I would propose, are not particularly skilled at that.
Many of us, if we were fortunate, were raised in highly structured environments.
During K-12, our time was largely accounted for from about 6:00 a.m. until 4:00 or 5:00 p.m.
We got ready for school, attended classes all day, and often participated in hobbies or extracurricular activities afterward.
College, if you attended, gave you a little more rope to swing from.
That’s one reason many students struggle during their freshman year.
Then many of us move into forty-plus-hour workweeks that structure our time in much the same way K-12 did.
This overly structured lack of time freedom is a big part of what many of us hope to escape by reaching FIRE.
The irony is that some structure is also necessary if you’re going to build a life you love after FIRE.
Finding that balance has been a challenge.
I have come to think of it less as finding a balance and more as finding a groove—a rhythm.
And I’m not there yet.
That’s why I’ve been thinking through my big goals, my values, and how I want to navigate the next year.
Actually, I have begun thinking of this “Year” as Having started around April 1, 2026, and extends through December 2027.
“Huh?”
“That’s way more than twelve months.”
That’s right.
It’s about twenty-one months.
The reason is that I started my first One Hit Wonder on March 17, and I’ve been adding them at a rate of roughly one per month.
I plan to stop adding them when I can no longer realistically sustain another one, but I’m hoping I can reach twelve before the end of 2026.
Then the goal will be to sustain them, thoughtfully, throughout 2027.
For example, come April of 2027, I may decide to pull back from writing a daily blog post because the one-year commitment will have been fulfilled.
But we’ll see what happens.
Using the power of momentum is one of my natural rhythms.
I also do better when I follow these simple rules:
100% commitment.
Remove as many distractions as possible.
Take small bites—baby steps.
Stack habit-forming practices together whenever possible.
Start strong and build reserves for emergencies and energy conservation.
Focus, focus, focus on the task at hand when you engage with it.
Where I struggle is with the following rhythm patterns, which may come more naturally to you:
Being mentally flexible when opportunities present themselves.
Changing up routines, because if I don’t, they eventually lead to boredom and burnout.
Accurately assessing how long something will take.
Realistically assessing how much time I can devote to multiple projects without becoming overwhelmed.
Understanding and honoring my energy patterns. More often than not, I either push forward—damn the consequences—or throw up my hands in defeat.
That is why I am being very protective about not loading my plate too heavily.
Sometimes I simply have to let the ball whiz by without taking a swing, to borrow a baseball analogy.
It may result in a missed opportunity, but at least I remain consistent with the commitments I have already made.
And I doubt it will be the last opportunity to come along.
It’s tricky.
The alternative is to accept whatever arises and simply go with it.
Be like water, as the Taoist tradition teaches, and flow with the current.
I like that idea.
A lot.
But for me, there also needs to be a quest at the center if I am going to feel fully alive and engaged.
Yeah…
It’s both.
It’s the pulse and the pause.
Which makes the whole thing even trickier.