January 3, 2026
1.3.26
Today Alaska turns 67.
Six. Seven.
Sounds like a smile.
January 3rd has been Alaska’s Statehood Day since 1959.
It’s also my dad’s birthday.
He’s 72 today.
When I called him this morning, he didn’t say seventy-two.
He said six dozen.
That’s Alaska energy.
I was born and raised in Anchorage.
Alaska has always been my scale corrector.
If denial is pretending you’re bigger than reality, Denali is what cures it.
You don’t argue with Denali.
You don’t brand Denali.
You don’t optimize Denali.
You look up.
You recalibrate.
You proceed with humility
(or whatever poor choice you made).
Pulse Check
Lately, fear seems to enjoy masquerading as wisdom.
What a time to be alive.
What a time to be a’lied to.
Yes, we're being lied to.
And have been.
For quite some time.
Fear technology.
Fear change.
Fear each other.
Not much pisses me off.
But that last one.
To sum up the end of 2025, offered plainly:
AI hasn’t been “easy.”
It’s been work.
Time. Listening. Iteration.
It’s only a force multiplier if you join forces.
(which may seem odd to some, even shocking).
It’s even more easily a force divider.
(which is not odd at all).
The hardest part hasn’t been learning the tool.
The hard part is shutting out the noise and moving forward with intent.
It's only fascinating if you're fascinating.
“It’s tells you what you want to hear.”
It can. Sure.
So do the people we vote for.
“AI acts stupid.”
Well, AI are tools reflecting back to you.
So are the people we vote for.
This isn’t about machines replacing humans.
It’s about humans remembering to be human.
Curious. Patient. Responsible.
Kind on purpose.
Humanize.
That’s the pulse.
The heartbeat of Mother Earth.
From Denial to Denali
Denial is loud.
Denali is quiet.
Denial demands certainty.
Denali commands respect.
When things feel overwhelming, I return to Alaska in my mind.
Year after year, it’s become ever clear.
Alaska is my grounding anchor to this rock of ages.
Anchor ages.
To cabins with no electricity.
Babbling brooks and rocky creeks.
Outhouses with crescent moons carved in the door.
Tire swing and a tree.
Details matter, and scale matters more.
Alaska doesn’t rush you.
It waits you out.
Still and patient.
A Sourdough Crumb
This is not a hot take.
It’s a starter.
Truth isn’t meant to be gulped like tea in a wellness segment.
That’s honesTEA.
Truth, when told honestly, sometimes stings.
That’s honesTEAR.
Both are real.
Both belong.
Like sourdough, the good stuff takes time.
It ferments. It breathes.
It feeds more than one person.
No loaves thrown.
Just crumbs on the trail.
Dumpster divers and drivers everywhere.
Nobody cares about the dumpster.
Even on fire.
Especially when they're even on fire.
Happy Birthday, Alaska
Sixty-seven years young.
Still wild. Still humbling. Still teaching scale.
Happy 67th!
Happy birthday to my dad, too.
Six dozen candles.
Happy 72nd!
If you find joy in whimsical stardust, curiosity, and visions, welcome.
You’re in good company.
Look up.
Breathe.
Proceed with care.
Travis
