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Hello, friends.

I'd planned on sending this out yesterday, before year's end. I chose to leave everything in tense present rather than artificially reframe.

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This is the final quarterly of the year. After the presidential elections, I couldn’t bring myself to expect much from 2017. It’s now largely over, with what seems like an unspoken and uneasy truce between nations for the holidays. I half-can’t believe that more than twelve months have passed since we elected a reality-tv star as our head of state; at the moment it seemed an unbearable tract of time to endure. W.G. Sebald said in The Rings of Saturn: “It takes just one awful second…and an entire epoch passes."

Will the next three abide in such a way? Bittersweetly, in the span of a swallow? I want to take this pill (more palliative than punishment, I hope) with as much awareness, trust, and intent as I can maintain.

The theme this time? "Faith.”


FOCUS


In October I traveled to the Japanese Alps to attend an intimate retreat hosted by industry OGs Craig Mod and Jan Chip Chase. It was called "Focus," and about fourteen invitees from all over the world—Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York, Hong Kong, other parts of Japan, Zurich—made their way to an idyllic Japanese countryside minka about five hours Northwest by bullet train from Tokyo. It felt like a pilgrimage. 
 

The goal was to converge, disconnect, and engage. Specifically, it was a gathering of makers, three days filled with each sharing their work with the group. Work sessions were followed by communion through long hikes, lovingly-crafted meals, deep conversations. (Photo below by Craig Mod)
 

Far-flung strangers were drawn to a remote location to connect with each other, first and foremost, as human beings. We slept on traditional Japanese futons in close quarters, made breakfast together in the early mornings, whittled wood, ate satsumas, presented art and vulnerabilities, drank good sake, made confessions, shed tears.  (Photo below by Craig Mod)
 

Most of us didn’t know who the other attendees would be, in advance. I didn’t connect faces with reputations or titles until impressions had long settled. I had no idea how much prejudice I came to first meetings with, with tech peers in particular. The fact that I was able to connect on a deeply personal level with the other attendees, a handful of whom are recognizable names in the industry, struck me. Given the context, it was natural to begin with personhood as the primer, and this greatly shifted the way I saw and interacted with them. It was revelatory to realize how perniciously my biases may have influenced, or prevented, new relationships in the past. (Photo below by Craig Mod)
 


I came away from this retreat with a new perspective, and was so grateful for the intimate dialogue I was able to engage in, with strangers who so unexpectedly became my friends.

I hope, for life.


I remained in Japan for another week or so, taking full advantage of the ultra-efficient and extensive Japanese rail system. Their luggage delivery services (such as Yamato), which to this day seems nothing short of magical to me, also made travel via public transportation relatively effortless. 

I stayed in Kyoto for a few days...
 


...then made my way to the summit of Mount Koya, a well-known Shingon Buddhist commune, to meditate and walk. I stayed at a warm, private temple room with an antechamber where I took my meals. I soaked in deep Japanese tubs called ofuros at the end of long days of hiking. 
 

All said and done I was in Japan for about two weeks! It was the first time I’d traveled outside of Tokyo, and I'm so happy I did it alone by train. If only for the romance of riding into the mountains, and the novelty of hurtling forward at almost 200 miles per hour on rails.


WORK, ODDS, ENDS


When I returned from Japan, I continued consulting for Sequoia Capital, where I’m fortunate to maintain an ongoing relationship. 2018 will bring some exciting changes (and challenges); stay tuned.

My short essay "Windows," about the potential for technology to be magical, was published in Offscreen Magazine’s 18th issue. Subscribe and support wonderful labors of love like this print publication. The issue itself is only $20. 

My essay, "Why We Make," was published online in The Human in the Machine, where I wax philosophical on the idea of productivity.
 

2017 was a year of drawing and illustration. I learned how to paint with watercolors, which had been a longtime goal.
 

Lastly, I continued to mentor and advise, paying it forward as much as I was able. In that vein, I submitted some answers to Playbook, a great resource for designers seeking actionable career advice. 

What can you do to support a teammate having an emotional moment or experiencing hardship?

What’s the best way to ask for someone’s time when seeking advice?

I hope to contribute more in 2018.
 

RECOMMENDATIONS


Art I enjoyed during 2017:

David Lynch never fails to astound me with his audacity to be authentic. The fact that a major cable network succumbed to his conditions and aired Twin Peaks: the Return, an exceptionally uncompromising work of art, blew my mind. 

Salt Fat Acid Heat is a wonderful book on the principles of cooking.  It’s illustrated by Wendy McNaughton.

Aki Inomata’s work (below) celebrates the blurred boundary between humans and other living things. She was one of the attendees at Focus Hida.
 


NEW YORK CITY


As most of you know by now, I’m leaving San Francisco for New York City after nearly two decades as a reluctant Bay Area resident. I’ve wanted to live in in Manhattan since the first time I stepped foot off a train into Penn Station in 1996. I’ve close friends and acquaintances in the Upper West Side and Williamsburg. I’ve favorite haunts and can navigate expertly through the subway system. I walk fast. I love extreme weather and high heels. I love overhearing cafe conversations about plays and literature.

While I’m grateful to San Francisco, which is a beautiful place that’s given me much, I’ve largely felt like an alien here. The more I live, the more I realize how important alignment is for all aspects of my life. In order for me to best support my next phase, I want to be in an environment that best complements my disposition and affinities. I will be moving into a beautiful flat in Harlem during the first week of January, 2018.

I’m excited to experience what it’s like to live among my people, and to begin fresh with the new year. It’s a big move, both geographically as well as emotionally and professionally. It’s a risk.

But what is faith if not an exemplar of investment in one’s intent? Trust, despite liability, difficulty, uncertainty, darkness? There’s a reason we say “leap” when we refer to faith. There’s action involved, a tremendous reserve and subsequent release of energy, a measure before one kicks loose, pushing off with great force and extension toward the mark, the body stretching, riding on the kick away from origin.

Faith says: I am here. I want to be there.

Happy 2018, everyone. 

Run hard, leap far. 

 
Copyright © 2018 Coleen Baik, All rights reserved.


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