Appreciation
by Anton Zuiker on June 28, 2026
Last year on LinkedIn I posted an update about how I was benefitting from leadership coaching, therapy, orthodontia, time to read, and opportunity to play pick-up soccer.
Here’s what I wrote:
So far in 2025, I’ve gotten a promotion at work, redesigned my long-running blog, been in good health (scored two goals in pick-up soccer on Sunday!), finished reading a few novels and memoirs, and started most mornings with meditation and mindfulness.
All of this is in my personal ‘vivid vision’ that I wrote last year. That two-page document, which describes what I want to be doing and feeling on my birthday in 2030, was inspired by a business strategy book by Cameron Herold, but really the clarity and specificity in my vision document reflects the weekly coaching sessions I’ve had with Troy Livingston. Troy’s been a curious, kind, and steady coach. I turned to him when I needed help applying mindfulness to my work life. His questions and insights have helped me grow as a manager and leader.
During this same time, my therapist has helped me look deep, my orthodontist has aligned my teeth, and my stylist has made my longer hair look good.
There’s more that I want to do. Less, too. I’m grateful for Troy’s coaching to help me see the difference. If you are at a point in your career that you’re ready to craft a vision for where 2025 will let you grow, consider Troy (or another coach) to go there with you.
Completion
Recently, I decided to stop my coaching sessions with Troy. After more than two years, I had come to a feeling of completion. “You have graduated,” Troy said to me in agreement, and so we reviewed the span of our conversations and the trajectory of my professional growth and inner peace.
I shared a small example. Here at the house we have a backyard courtyard and landscaping project underway, and there’s construction dust coating everything. Our cars, too, are full of dust from the gravel driveway and dry conditions here in North Carolina. I bought a pack of soft microfiber towels and handed them out to the family. Knowing the benefit of keeping my eyeglasses clean (I always have a hank from GondekEDC in my back pocket), I recommended to the family that they use the towels to “clear the dust daily.” I mentioned this to Troy and he agreed it was both a good practice as well as a fine example of awareness and habit and striving for clarity.
This mindfulness is precisely why I asked Troy for his support in 2023. He helped me get here, and I am grateful for Troy’s support.
Troy is available to be your coach, too. Check out Troy Livingston Coaching & Consulting.
Legacy
As good coaches do, Troy asked me repeatedly, “How do you want to show up?”
He also asked me, “What do you want to be known for?”
I never felt my answers to Troy was adequate or thorough, but I’m glad for those questions. I will keep working at being better, being kinder, being calmer, listening deeper, loving longer.
Last week, Om Malik, an influential journalist and blogger and venture investor, died at the age of 59. Om was admired, respected, and beloved, and there are many tributes to him and his kindness to others, whether strangers or new friends or longtime collaborators. (John Gruber’s remembrance is one of most beautiful of the bunch.) What a life. What a legacy. What an answer.
Josh Ritter again
by Anton Zuiker on May 24, 2026
Josh Ritter is one of our favorite singer-songwriters, and I’ve seen him perform at least six times, often with Erin but also with Oliver and Malia. Earlier this year, Ritter was scheduled for two nights at the Haw River Ballroom, where I’d last seen him. But Erin and I had plane tickets to St. Croix and we were going to miss his shows, and then a big winter storm came through North Carolina so we pushed our travel out, we hunkered in our warm house, and Ritter’s second show was canceled.
So, I bought two tickets to the final night of Ritter’s tour at the famed Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee. I invited my college buddy, Mark Schreiner, to join me in early May. Mark lives in Raleigh and he worked at Duke University until last summer. Now he’s a part-time announcer at The Classical Station and I get to listen to him talk about classical music when I’m driving to the Wednesday evening pick-up soccer game. Mark and I connect every few months for lunch, and we’ve hoped for years to take a trip together. But life got busy and I didn’t even think about the Nashville details. With airfares and AirBnB prices a bit much, we decided instead to drive to Boone, visit a couple of the breweries, and hike Grandfather Mountain.
Still, I was holding two tickets to the Ryman show. I asked around and found a Vanderbilt colleague whose parents live in Nashville and was happy to be introduced to Josh Ritter. I transferred the tickets to them from the cabin in Boone. The night of the concert, Mark and I sat at the cabin’s kitchen table to record a long conversation about our memories of John Carroll University and how our we reconnected in North Carolina and on the Duke campus. (I posted one segment over on Wan Smol Blog.)
Here’s a video from Ritter about that Ryman show:
Ritter’s tour was over but he’d committed to a make-up date for that canceled Haw River Ballroom show. Erin surprised me with tickets from a local friend, so there we were with Oliver (and Mary and Ginny) last Tuesday for his stand-up standout solo performance. It was awesome: nearly two hours of Ritter singing his stories—Truth is a Dimension is both funny and deep—filling the old textile factory with his exuberance.
Good friends. Good music. Good travel.
Island hopping
by Anton Zuiker on May 7, 2026
Last night, I finished reading The Wayfinder, a novel by Adam Johnson. I had started this book on Christmas Day (I give books to each of my family, and when I saw this on the table at Flyleaf Books, I took it home and put it under the tree with my name on the tag), and I took my time reading the 713 pages. Savored them, really.
I thoroughly enjoyed this story of Tonga and the royal intrigue that sends princes and storytellers and poets and fefine girls and a talking parrot on journeys throughout the South Pacific. It’s Polynesian magic realism (written by a Stanford University professor who is an enrolled member of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe). I read this here in North Carolina, but what made it especially personal for me was my own connection to the Pacific: my time in Hawaii, where I briefly studied the Hawaiian language, and my Peace Corps service in Vanuatu, where I drank kava (“bitter like puddled water” writes Johnson, just as I remember it). Through the years, I’ve also read with interest about the knowledge of traditional navigators, such as this 2016 NYTimes feature and this 2025 science story, both about the Marshall Islands.
What might a nomadic life look like? Consider Vaha-loa. Cradled by wave troughs and weaned on limu, this maritime vagabond had, before his first whisker, felled a man with a Tahitian sling, shared breath with a volcano in Vanuatu, and seen the seas luminesce against submerged reefs. His father taught him the arts of barter and ransom. His mother, stealth and evasion. And he had a third parent: the vastness of the sea, whose tutelage remediated all other lessons but one: a human’s lowly place in the oceanic scheme.
I liked that line about sharing the breath of life with a volcano—I had breathed in the vapors of Benbow, Yasur, and Lopevi, all volcanoes in Vanuatu (and Kilauea in Hawaii).
Earlier in the novel, Moon Appearing, one of the heroines—there are many strong and wise girls and women in this story, in which the king and other men wreak havoc across the seas—“finished her chores, her hair had fallen and she smelled like pond water. It was evening, and the light from the west lit the thorny ribs of palm fronds and set the pale green ferns aglow.”
As I read that, I remembered swinging in my hammock in Liro Village in the late afternoon as I looked across the village through “a green and liquid light that I swear I could just about swim through.”
Reading this book was like once again swaying in that hammock, swimming in the glow of the islands, floating in the poetry of village life and sounds of tropical birds.
Kōrero is another heroine, a girl storyteller who connects all the threads of this story. Her name is the Māori word for talking and conversation, much like the Bislama yumi stap storian and also talk story that I learned in Hawaii. Both of those phrase have been important through my 25 years of blogging and community building and influenced my decade of narrative. I’ve been thinking about ways to keep up that focus, and The Wayfinder pointed the way.
“Kuo pau ke ke ‘alu,” she said to him. (You must go.)
“Pea ko koe e nofo,” he responded. (And you remain.)
That’s a refrain throughout the story. So good.
This was quite the reading experience. Thank you, Adam Johnson.
Gift bags
by Anton Zuiker on April 28, 2026
Another text message from my local bookseller, Flyleaf Books, came in today saying my order of Unreasonable Hospitality: The Field Guide was in. So, at the end of the day — after annual performance reviews for three of my colleagues, and a group meeting for a project I’m on — I drove over to retrieve two copies of the handbook. I also picked up a copy of the original book by Will Guidara, since I’d given away my last copy just yesterday. It must be over 10 copies that I’ve gifted, because this bestselling book is meaningful to me and I want others to be inspired by it, with the story of Eleven Madison Park and how Guidara and his team found ways, both simple and over the top, to acknowledge their restaurant’s guests.
I’d given that copy of Unreasonable Hospitality to a colleague yesterday at the end of our day-long team retreat. We’d spent the day looking back on a year’s goals and challenges and results and accomplishments. We’d also heard from a couple of the leaders with their historical perspectives and guidance on what’s important to focus on in the months ahead. I had prepared handwritten notes and gifts for each of my colleagues, and the two leaders. This is part of my goal for 2026 to become a better gift giver, inspired in part by Guidara but also Erin and Edwin and others in my circle.
“I like that you’ve reused gift bags, which we do at our house,” said one. I was about to hand her the bag with Unreasonable Hospitality. Perfect, I thought to myself, and out loud I said, “Yes, thanks for noticing! I dug into the box of bags at home and this is what was left.” I’d felt bad about the bags not matching or being pristine, but this comment and the team’s chuckles told me this was even better. I’ll probably write a version of this blog post into the notes pages of the handbook.
Oh, and I gave copies of The agile comms handbook to other members of the team.
The easy postcard
by Anton Zuiker on April 10, 2026
Uncle Larry's postcards to Jenny, collected
My uncle, Larry Zuiker, founded a hikers club in Arizona and wrote a book about his treks throughout the western United States and our national parks, and he once lead me on hike near Phoenix when I was there for a conference.
Over the last 20 years, Larry has been sending me postcards about his adventures, including in Zion National Park. When we saw him in Boulder for Uncle Denny’s funeral, Larry had given me and Erin tips for our own trip to Zion, including to get up to Walter’s Wiggles and Angel’s Landing; he followed up by sending his own photos of the canyon’s hikes, simply writing on the back of each photo, adding our address, and affixing a stamp. As I blogged last week, I only made it as far as Scout Point, but on my way down the trail, I paused at the top of the Wiggles to record a short video message to Larry that I texted him later that night. I also sent him a Zion postcard once I returned home to North Carolina.
In Boulder, I also had learned that Larry’s been sending postcards to some of my other cousins. Jenny had her collection on a ring so we could turn through them all. I was impressed that Jenny had presented them this way, and I had even more admiration for my uncles.
Coincidentally, the same day that I was hiking the wiggles, my friend Karyn Murphy, who lives in Homer, Alaska, was telling her own story of a postcard collection. Alloted just five minutes to show and tell (it’s a format called PechaKucha), she explained how her mother had sent simple-seeming postcards to her when she was living on the island of Molokai and how, in the final year of her mother’s life, she returned the favor. It’s a heartwarming story and, given Karyn’s artistic and curious nature, an inspiring one: listen and watch. (Karyn told a version of this story in one of the Talk Story sessions I hosted in 2012. Watch here and read the News & Observer report.)
And yesterday, at a perfect vineyard wedding in Lovingston, Virginia, I was invited to do just that. Instead of a traditional guestbook, Agustin and Maya invited us to pick a postcard from the rack—cities, states, countries, and national parks—write a message, and drop it into a metal lunchbox. Zion was there, and many other places I’ve visited or hope this lovely and talented couple may one day visit, but instead I selected Big Bend National Park, which reminded me of my sister-in-law’s art about the Rio Grande and the rafting trip in Big Bend that Katherine had taken us on in 2015. ‘May you have wonderful adventures!’ I finished my note to the newlyweds.
Here on my desk is a stack of unused postcards, which I’ve ben collecting since my childhood and that I dug out of a storage box. In another box, I’ve saved the cards I’ve received through the years; it was fun and emotional to reread these. Last year, I wrote about the collection of postcards that Malia had written to me and Erin during her studies in Madrid and tour through Europe. Her messages made me proud and happy.
Giles Turnbull recently wrote a blog post about How to write more postcards — “Make it easy, like texting is,” he wrote, along with advice that “you don’t have to have a lot to say. It’s fine to just send a single question, or a sentence or two.”
Thank you, Larry and Karyn and Agustin and Maya and Giles, Malia, and so many others.
It's good to be outside
by Anton Zuiker on April 5, 2026
From the Watchman Trail, Zion National Park
As I noted in Shows I attended in 2025, my personal five-year plan, under the question “What is my state of mind [in 2030]?” says I will find awe, beauty, and wonder from nature and spend 5 full days outside each year.
I’m glad to have just done that with the family. Our trip to Zion National Park was spectacular.
Sure, I had moments of impatience and frustration and worry—a work stress was particularly hard to shake—but being able to slow down, breathe deeply, and look up and around and into the eyes of my loved ones confirmed that this outdoors goal is right to be at the top of my ‘vivid vision’ document.
Spring hiking in Zion
by Anton Zuiker on April 4, 2026
Snow Canyon State Park, Utah
Late in the day on Wednesday Oliver and I met up above Walter’s Wiggles at the top of the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park. We were in Utah for a spring break adventure with Erin, Anna, the Claffey family (Erin’s sister, Mary), and Tom and Katherine (Erin’s other sister) from Boise. Our group had won a morning permit to crawl out to (death defying) Angel’s Landing, but the overnight rains kept us away (great excuse to skip the danger) until late afternoon. After hiking other parts of the park (muddy Lee Pass Trail in the Kolog Canyons section and then Watchman Trail in the main park), most of us took up the challenge to hustle up to Scout Point, just before Angel’s Landing, and then down again in time for the last shuttle down to the visitor center.
While I waited for Erin to arrive at the trailhead, Oliver and his cousins started up the steep trail. Eventually, Erin urged me to go ahead, so I hiked fast, barely stopping to catch my breath and not even enjoying the cool beauty of Refrigerator Canyon. I met Oliver at Scout Lookout, snapped some photos, and used the toilet. Yes, there is a set of pit latrines up at the top of the trail.
“Toilets at the top!” I said.
“That’s funny,” said Oliver.
“It could be the title of a blog post,” I replied. [I tried to use it as the title for this post, but it just doesn’t work. I clearly was tired from the hiking when I had that bad idea.]
Down the trail we went, pausing every few minutes to watch the growing shadows on the canyon walls. So late in the day meant the crowds were gone and we were basically alone on the trail. We didn’t make it to the iconic Angel’s Landing but we did get to enjoy the park in a memorable way.
Other hikes we did: Weeping Rock, Riverside Walk (along with hundreds of families in their waders on their way into the Narrows), and Kayenta Trail to Upper Emerald Pools. We took hundreds of photos along the way, and I stopped even more to just look up and marvel at the expanse and scale of the rock cliffs.
A birthday
Thursday was my birthday, so in true Zuiker fashion we started the day at River Rock Roasting Co. for breakfast and giant cinnamon rolls. We sat outside on the veranda that overlooks the Virgin River, which comes out of Zion Canyon. (Another family walked by, one girl wearing a Carolina shirt, so we chatted with them to find out they, too, were from Chapel Hill.) Around the table, we discussed our itinerary, which needed to end in Las Vegas for our final night. Since it was my birthday, I got to decide, and since there were Mojave Desert tortoises to be seen, I opted for Utah’s Snow Canyon State Park. This park is just outside of St. George, and near the BLM’s Red Cliffs National Conservation Area, and I was surprised by how much there was to do. Alas, we did not see a tortoise, but we hiked for more than three hours amid the beauty.
Glamping
Erin had made most the trip’s arrangements months before, and when she suggested we sleep in the heated tents of Under Canvas, I gave an enthusiastic yes. This was a fun place, set on a beautiful hill at the very edge of Zion National Park, with an on-site kitchen and family activities and plenty of dry firewood for the stove inside the tent (and a heated shower, a sink, a toilet). We’d been promised stellar views of the Milky Way but rain clouds and then a full moon kept the heavens away. Still, a very enjoyable way to visit the area.
Las Vegas
We flew in and out of Vegas, stayed two nights at the Bellagio and then a final night at the Palazzo at the Venetian. The lights and noise and crowds of the strip were exciting, at first, but quickly unpalatable (having to walk through the smoky casino to get in and out of the hotel added to the discomfort). The highlight was pizza, gelato, and espresso at Eataly. From Vegas we took a day trip to the Hoover Dam and nearby Boulder City.
The Wayfinder
On the flight home, I read for hours, still only half through The Wayfinder, the 700-page novel by Adam Johnson.
On page 365, I read this dialogue, in which the young Kōrero answers that she had been lost when sailing on her own.
“When I focused on where I was supposed to go and how I should get there, I felt pretty lost. When I forgot all that and just sailed, I seemed to go in the right direction.”
There were moments on the trail, my phone away and the family spread before and behind, when I felt perfectly in the moment, the stillness of the desert or the strength of the canyon or the vastness of the universe taking me just where I needed to be going.
I want to go back, to Zion and St. George and everything else there is to explore in Southwest Utah.
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