It’s been three weeks since I’ve been back in NYC, and I’ve been feeling a mix of overwhelm, excitement, and disorientation. A friend recently asked how I stay so calm while apartment-hopping through the chaos of Manhattan, and the short answer is: I don't—at least, not always. Although I’ve cultivated grounding practices and mastered the art of scavenging for sublets, I’m not always a cool cucumber.
On paper, you would think that a three-bedroom penthouse in the trendy Flatiron neighborhood with at least five skylights would evoke sensations of spaciousness and serenity. In reality, my return to the big apple has been rather turbulent, starting with the flight. Over a span of five days, I took two red-eyes. Never again. Upon arrival, the entire apartment was being painted by a crew of six. For the first three nights, until I borrowed my friend’s Swiffer Sweeper, our bedroom floor was covered in dust. Climbing into bed by first taking off your Birkenstocks is as uncomfortable as accidentally liking your crush's Instagram post from five years ago.
Three weeks in, and I’m finally starting to feel more settled. After filling the empty kitchen with cooking equipment and fresh groceries, I can actually eat something not from a restaurant or a microwave. I’ve figured out how to not freak out about the wifi not working. It turns out, when you live in a place this large and the router is on the other side, you just need to move closer when it gets unbearably slow at 12pm everyday. Also, as of this week, I can finally exhale, having secured a sublet in Park Slope for next month.
Despite addressing my physical and logistical problems, I still feel a bit unsettled, probably because I’m working more than I want to. This sense of destabilization stems from the growing pains of a recent rapid evolution in my work. Just a couple months ago, I was living off savings, with ample time to wander and embrace spontaneity. Now, my days are packed with a part-time job, helping out with Downshift, and my nearly full coaching practice, leaving little room for unstructured time. The decision to trade unstructured time for financial stability and growth in my coaching practice was exactly what I wanted, but this sudden shift coupled with the chaos of moving, has felt unfamiliar and constricting.
Case in point: it's been three weeks since I last found time to sit down to write.
Despite the recent whirlwind of change, I find myself grateful for where I am. This season of life is energizing, dynamic, and sometimes teeters on overwhelming. Rather than seeking homeostasis, a return to familiar rhythms, I’m embracing the concept of allostasis, actively adapting and changing to maintain stability in this new way of being.
The contrast to my past life is stark. Two years ago, I equated satisfaction with getting away with quiet quitting or vacationing while still getting paid out by big tech coffers. Now, I find fulfillment in the repetition of honest days of deep work. In this season of work and flux, I’m being asked to form a new understanding of equilibrium.
I've reached a point where every major aspect I desire from work is being met - financial security, learning, mentorship, community, creative expression, ownership, and a sense of responsibility. It's a delicate balance, but one that has coherence—the sum of the parts form an integrated whole.
The transition from financial uncertainty to bustling stability has also revealed an unexpected unfolding. I've somehow rebuilt my career from a singular full-time job to an alchemy of four distinct elements, each serving a unique purpose.
In observing how my own life has changed, I’ve been wondering: How did society come to expect a single full-time job to fulfill all our professional and personal wants and needs?
The All-In Bet on the Modern Job
The current expectation of finding complete fulfillment in a single job is a modern concept. Historically, work was more diverse, tangible, and deeply embedded in community life. It was often seasonal, hands-on, and rich with human interactions. People found meaning and belonging through a tapestry of activities: laboring alongside neighbors, participating in local organizations, and fulfilling familial and communal responsibilities.
In the post-World War II era, the concept of a lifelong career with one company emerged, laying the foundation for today's work culture. As society shifted, so did the nature of work itself. Now, instead of toiling in fields or on factory floors, many of us find ourselves in a more abstract realm. Work has been reduced to hitting buttons on a keyboard and conversing with floating squares on Zoom. This abstraction extends to the benefits of work as well, making them sometimes imperceptible or unfulfilling.
In this new landscape, we've grown to expect our single full-time job to be the sole provider of meaning, creative expression, money, belonging, ownership, agency, and responsibility. It's as if we're asking our careers to fulfill the roles once played by church, community, and family – institutions that were once default anchors in people's lives. These workplace aspirations are great when fulfilled, but when unmet, work transforms from a choice into an obligation, leaving many (including myself) feeling disengaged and disillusioned.
The definition of work continues to evolve, shaped by the confluence of the creator economy, remote work, async communication, and AI. Instead of "going to work," we roll out of bed and lift our laptop lids, or even worse—remain in bed and open the Slack app on our iPhone. Rather than punching in and out, we're perpetually connected, blurring the lines between professional and personal life.
This shift has led to career breakers wandering on the pathless path and digital nomads passport-hopping as an adventurous, yet potentially numbing coping mechanism. For the quiet quitters who are mentally checked out but haven't resigned yet, there's the mouse jiggler. This real object you can get on Amazon for $22.99 simulates human hand movements on a computer, allowing even the most disengaged to maintain an illusion of productivity.
There are only so many Mykonos sunsets and Dolomite summit views before novelty wears thin and introspection becomes inevitable. Just as unlimited PTO isn’t actually limitless, vacations aren’t a panacea to the root problems of misaligned work. Escapism is a viable strategy until you yearn to return to yourself, to awaken from your hedonistic slumber. Eventually reality sets in as you find yourself slumped over again, staring at a screen for eight hours a day.
In my case, this disillusionment manifested as a fragmented existence. Despite the idyllic lifestyle of splitting my time between surfing in Hawaii, hustling in NYC, and skiing in Tahoe, I felt deeply lost and dissatisfied with my work. It took stepping away completely and embracing a blank slate mentality to find clarity. After 18 months of introspection, experimentation, and living off savings, I've reformed my concept of “work”. What emerged wasn't another all-in bet on a single job, but an alchemical blend of distinct elements. I call this new approach the elemental career—work comprised of multiple elements, each serving a specific purpose in fulfilling what I truly want from my work.
An Elemental Career: Earth, Fire, Water, Air
I'll be the first to admit that an elemental career sounds exactly like a portfolio career. So why try to rename a reasonable term? I've never resonated with describing my work as a portfolio because to me, a portfolio is something to be displayed to an interviewer or potential customer. This seems externally oriented, whereas my unplanned unfolding journey has been more internal, sensing into what I view as elemental for my work. Just like the periodic table of elements represents the building blocks of matter, these career elements form the essential components of what I want my work to be. Instead of strategizing what will appeal to an audience of judges, fans, or investors, an elemental approach to work starts from your most intimate desires and only after deep digging does the multifaceted shape start to emerge.
I recently watched Avatar: The Last Airbender on Netflix, which brought waves of nostalgia and probably led me to subconsciously thinking about my work through the four classical elements of earth, water, fire, and air.
Earth, represented by my part-time product manager job, provides the solid, grounded foundation of my career. Like the earth itself, this role is reliable and constant, offering financial stability and a predictable structure. Working about 20 hours a week, it's the bedrock that supports my other pursuits, representing the tangible, material aspects of work. This job ensures I have enough money coming in to sustain my lifestyle and focus on long-term pursuits without financial worry.
Fire, in the form of my coaching practice, is what lights me up. This element represents transformation, energy, and intensity - all qualities that align with the dynamic nature of my early coaching journey. Like a flame that requires steady tending, this craft demands continuous care, preparation, and reflection. Stoking the fire gives me energy in ways I didn't expect, providing me with a sense of service, meaning, and joy. Surprisingly, within two months of launching, I'm nearly at my self-imposed capacity of 10 clients. While my coaching practice is not my primary source of income yet, it's what I intend to focus on for the coming decades. In this element, I show up as an solopreneur, taking full ownership and responsibility. It’s all me—checking emails, sending invoices, writing post-session notes, reading up on new material, and of course, actually coaching in sessions.
Water symbolizes the fluid nature of my work with Downshift. My responsibilities ebb and flow, from video editing to workshop participation to curriculum review. With two cohorts a year, there’s a seasonal rhythm of in-season and off-season. From orienting my daily schedule to the weather during ski season, I’ve learned that we're not meant to work in the same mode all year round. Downshift's fluidity extends to its working model resembling a collective. We collaborate as a team while maintaining ownership and creative expression of our 1:1 coaching practices. To me, this is the best of both worlds: community and collaboration paired alongside our own individual creative independence.
Air represents my writing, giving breath to ideas and allowing for free movement of thought. Like air, writing can be clear or foggy, reflecting the process of refining ideas. My essays on More Human Possible are like air in motion. They start as gentle drafts of ideas, swirling and wisping away only a couple leaves. Through writing multiple drafts, these thoughts gain momentum and take shape, much like how a breeze builds into a wind. Just as air is omnipresent, my writing (thanks to the internet) is always available to be read without my constant involvement. Above all, writing is my medium for self-expression, which I consider vital in my work. While coaching is still a nascent industry, I have a hunch that my best ideas lay undiscovered in the deep recesses of my mind. Ultimately, writing serves multiple purposes. It’s primarily a form of creative release, secondarily a laboratory for developing my slow hunches1, and lastly, a form of marketing.
These four elements collectively embody what I seek in my work: financial sustainability, continuous learning, creative expression, ownership, responsibility, and purpose. While the conventional expectation is to find all these in a single full-time job, I've discovered the value of a more elemental career. Although I didn’t methodically plan this approach from the start, in hindsight I can see how each element was intentionally sought out by sensing into my true desires.
By deconstructing work into elements and thinking from first principles, I can audit what is being met and what's lacking. This allows me to take agency in creating and receiving what I am longing for, rather than expecting everything to be fulfilled from a single job. For example, until recently, my work felt imbalanced. Despite pursuing my passion and channeling creativity, I lacked financial stability. With this awareness, I sought out part-time work that could pay the bills without having to trade-off a full 40 hours of my time, energy, and attention.
While these four elements currently fit the metaphor of earth, fire, water, and air, they'll inevitably evolve over time, reflecting the fluid and complex nature of a fulfilling career. The essence of this approach is staying attuned to my inner wants and needs, allowing my work to flow and transform like the elements themselves. The elemental approach is ultimately to be in service of creating a fulfilling life, not just work. Its effectiveness is determined by how well it expresses my core values and supports my beyond-work ambitions. It's a deeply personal, ever-evolving journey.
Keeping It Real
This elemental approach to work is easier said than done. Maintaining a sense of coherence across distinct work elements requires careful intentionality, disciplined prioritization, and open experimentation—kind of like coordinating travel plans with a group of eclectic friends.
One challenge I face is the tendency to deprioritize writing when things get busy. Since the other three elements involve other people, it’s easier for me to sacrifice solo writing time. This creates tension, as writing isn't necessarily the least important, but most easily neglected. When life gets hectic, I’ve seen how this pattern of sacrificing fundamental practices can extend to essentials like diet, exercise, and sleep.
My perspective on time off has shifted since I’m paid hourly in my part-time job. Taking a full week off feels less worth it compared to half-days or long weekends. Extended international trips seem increasingly challenging to pull off. While part of me wishes I could work remotely from the Dolomites, Mexico City, or Japan, I recognize that travel and jet lag would impact my ability to coach effectively. So in this current season, I’m choosing to deepen my coaching practice over exploring new destinations.
The reality of solopreneurship often involves working nights and weekends. While the wellness industry promotes an idealized image of wrapping up at 5 PM and unwinding with a candlelit bubble bath, I’m responsible regardless of the hour. This might sound like overworking to some, but it's a choice that aligns with my current lifestyle and intentions. To be clear, it’s not like I'm chained to my desk in a cubicle or burning my eyeballs in back-to-back Zooms. My flexible, yet busy schedule allows me for midday walks, lunch with friends, and work outs. For me, writing at a coffee shop on a Saturday morning is enjoyable and it’s also work for me.
On a practical level, juggling multiple work elements means frequent context switching and managing fragmented tasks. To avoid feeling the frenzy of intense game of Bop-It, I've set up specific guardrails and boundaries. I use Arc because the tabs are hidden and toggling workspaces requires precise intention instead of false impulse. I have zero notifications and I deleted all social media apps. The web version of Instagram doesn’t support stories so whenever I want to post something, I’ll literlaly download the app, post, and then immediately delete again. On top of all this, when I do check social media on my computer, I use this extension which blocks the fire hose of algorithmically-fed content. So if you’ve been wondering why I haven’t been liking your posts, that’s why. These tedious tactics might seem like overkill, but for me they’re how I maintain sovereignty of my most valuable resource—my attention—instead of surrendering it to these digital dopamine dealers.
Beyond technological solutions, I've learned not to bounce between tasks too frequently or transition immediately from one task to another. When I do, my brain feels like it’s in perpetual pinball. When in between tasks, I pace around to create a pocket of quiet space in my mind or use late morning workouts as a built-in break. These physical rituals help me reset and refocus, reducing the mental spillover that occurs when jumping between disparate tasks.
Maintaining a sense of presence is challenging when ideas can arise anytime. During peak busyness, my mind can feel like a stormy sea of information. In the past couple weeks, I’ve been meditating longer and incorporating yoga nidra2 to self-regulate and center myself.
One downside is the lack of empty time for aimless wandering. As a type-A person planner, it takes conscious effort to preserve unscheduled time and resist the urge to fill it with plans. Now, it’s tough to find a completely free day, so I’ve been leaning more on my precious period every morning from 6:30-8 AM where I avoid looking at my laptop or picking up my phone.
Some might worry about a lack of depth in pursuing multiple work elements. But I've come to realize that true depth comes from tending to a dynamic balance and orienting towards long-term sustainability. While everyone chase passive income through acquiring small businesses and random SaaS widgets, I'm more interested in leveraging money to resource fulfilling work that becomes increasingly enjoyable as I improve3.
I'm confident that financial wealth will follow from focusing on enjoyment and learning over decades, rather than pursuing it directly at the expense of fulfillment. It's less about hedging my bets or minimizing risk, and more about creating a sustainable ecosystem of work that nourishes different aspects of who I am and who I want to become.
I Am Where I Need To Be
As I reflect on two months of elemental work, I'm noticing how earth, fire, water, and air create a symbiotic synergy greater than the sum of its parts. Nothing feels forced. There's a depth and richness to my days, which can sometimes feel overwhelming if I’m sleep deprived or the wifi craps out. I sense I'm learning and experimenting faster than if I'd gone all-in on one thing, as each element has space to incubate, germinate, and blossom.
Instead of defaulting to homeostasis (climbing the path to L7 at [insert big tech company]), elemental work assumes change is constant. Stability isn't about maintaining a static equilibrium, but achieved through an allostatic process of growth and adaptation. Life feeling ever-changing, sometimes verging on overwhelming, but I'd rather ride this dynamic rollercoaster than be stuck in a corporate hamster wheel, watching the same episode of my life on repeat while the 'Days Since Last Promotion' counter ticks.
This approach has given me more agency in my work. I've realized ownership, purpose, and creative freedom matter more to me than money. Once basic needs are met, feeling useful and of service become essential. It’s about finding work where "the reward for good work is more work.”4 This shift in perspective has led me to lower my coaching rate for a client I was excited to work with and offer free mentorship to another.
Work isn't something I'm trying to avoid anymore. I still crave vacations and deep resets like retreats or solo backpacking, but I just really want to keep honing my craft. With finite time on this pale blue dot, I'd rather improve my writing and coaching than make more money to buy more shit. You know what feels better than having a walk-in closet filled with Birkins?5 Being good at what you do. And even better than that? Being good at and enjoying what you do.
Looking ahead, I foresee new elements emerging, possibly more seasonal, collective work. My long-term vision is to coach and write full-time, though the details, timeline, and shape remain unknown. I'm just trying to stay upwind6 and tend to the slow hunches I've already planted.
If more people embraced this approach, we might see an increase in seasonal work, gig-like projects, and collectives. Apprenticeships might rise as people recognize the value of direct experience while supporting themselves through other work elements. We may even see fewer sabbaticals – they're transformative, but there are many ways to discover what you want from work without completely separating from corporate life.
The future of my four-element approach to work remains uncertain, yet exciting. I anticipate each element will evolve organically, potentially intertwining in unforeseen ways. While I can't predict the exact shape of things to come, I'm confident that my elemental career will be quite different by this time next year. Evolution—in nature and in our lives—is an unstoppable force. Rather than resist, I'm choosing to embrace it. As I continue to refine what my work actually is and the notion of “what is mine to do”7, I remain open to the inevitable changes and unknown possibilities that lie just beyond the horizon of what is known.
I’m currently setting aside some funds for my first formal training program next year, possibly in somatic therapy.
It’s unclear who to attribute this quote to. It’s either Tom Sachs or Kevin Kelly.
I got the staying upwind metaphor from Paul Graham’s essay How To Do Great Work
I thought I got this phrase from Jim Dethmer, co-founder of The Conscious Leadership Group, but it turns out he didn’t say this, so idk where I got it 🤷♂️
Hey Matt, resonated with a lot here, I also went on a long sabbatical, changed my relationship with work, etc., settled on an Octopus metaphor along similar underlying themes as your Elements. Now trying to figure out what my mix of "elements" is going to be for work. For your part time job did you ask to do part time, or did that just happen to be what they were looking for?
wonderful post matt, had this sitting in my to-be-read and happened to open it today when I happen to feel like at a bit of a career crossroads i.e. 26 years old, i like my job but dont LOVE, paid pretty well but either want, selfishly ill admit, either 1) more money/status 2) more learning or 3) ownership of my own. i’ve only got two elements right now with my fulltime job (earth) and writing (wind) and wonder what my water and fire would be… and I suppose that’s my question to you. for your coaching and Downshift and the things you do outside the corporate world… did it come naturally or were you terrified? when did you decide it was the right thing to try out - what age were you and where were you?
also, I realise this is a 2024 post that I’m commenting on in 2026, which is evident to how cool it is to have your writing on the internet :)