Step Outside to Recharge

My friend John texted me last week with a podcast recommendation, a conversation with philosopher C. Thi Nguyen. I didn't know his work, but I trust John's taste, so I put it on while running errands.

Nguyen's central idea is that games are everywhere in modern life, and that we're drawn to them for a reason. Games offer something our daily lives rarely provide cleanly: clear structure, defined rules, and an unambiguous way to measure whether we're winning.

In a world full of complexity and ambiguity, that clarity is genuinely appealing. We don't just play games for fun... we crave the feeling of knowing exactly how to succeed.

I found myself agreeing through most of it. Then I found myself getting a little uncomfortable.

Because Nguyen also points out the downside. The gamification of social media, likes, comments, follower counts, is designed to exploit that same craving. You're playing a game built to capture your attention, not to advance your life. And because the feedback loops are so immediate, it's hard to step away even when you sense it isn't good for you.

I finished the podcast feeling an urge to put the phone down and go outside.

The Job Search as a Game

The broader idea of that podcast wasn't lost on me, because job searching is its own version of a game. You submit applications, send messages, modify your resume, track your outreach, and optimize where you can, all in service of earning the opportunity to be paid for your value. There are inputs you control and outcomes you cannot.

Even if "the game is rigged," you play anyway.

But unlike a well-designed game, the job search rarely tells you where you stand. The feedback is slow, inconsistent, and often silent. You can do everything right and still hear nothing for weeks. That dynamic is exhausting in a way that's hard to fully explain to someone who isn't in it. It's not just the effort. It's the sustained uncertainty of effort without confirmation. Playing that game for eight or ten hours a day is exhausting.

Permission to Step Away

When I was first laid off, I knew I had to show up consistently to the job search. But I also knew I had to step away from it too. Some afternoons I'd head to North Avenue Beach (in Chicago) and sit in the sun for a couple of hours. Other days I'd go to the driving range and hit golf balls in the afternoon. Neither activity was measured or evaluated for performance, but being outside was rejuvenating.

There is actually a name for this in Japanese culture. Shinrin-yoku, which translates to "forest bathing," is the practice of spending unhurried time in nature.... not hiking with a destination, not exercising toward a goal, just being present and embracing calmness.

I didn't know this at the time, but research supports what people have long known: time in nature lowers cortisol, reduces mental fatigue, and restores the focused attention that sustained cognitive work depletes. You don't have to find a forest. A park, a lakefront, a trail, an open stretch of sky. The principle holds either way.

What I appreciate most about it is how ungamified it is. Nature has no leaderboard.

Getting Out There

I know what some of you might be thinking. Getting outside sounds appealing when the weather cooperates. But a cold Tuesday in March, or a grey Wednesday with nowhere particular to go, makes it easy to talk yourself out of it.

I've thought the same thing. But the barrier is rarely the weather itself. It's the permission we give ourselves to go anyway. My brother used to say while cycling around Chicago in the middle of winter: there's no bad weather, just bad gear. The idea being that conditions will never be perfectly inviting, and waiting for them to be means waiting longer than necessary.

A short walk in the cold still counts. Fifteen minutes outside on an overcast day still counts. The threshold is lower than we make it.

Be Where You Are

I want to be honest about something, because I don't want this to sound easier than it is. There were plenty of afternoons at the beach where I was physically present and mentally somewhere else entirely. I'd be sitting in the sun refreshing my email, half-hoping something had changed since I checked twenty minutes earlier. I wasn't job searching and I wasn't recharging. I was doing a poor version of both.

That split attention is its own kind of drain. Carrying the weight of obligation into a space meant to offer relief means you get neither the relief nor the productivity.

I started this newsletter with a podcast that ended with me wanting to put my phone down and go outside. If you've felt something similar while reading this, I'd encourage you to do the same. Close the laptop and step outside.