Coming Full Circle: My Return to Real

I just got back from Connecticut.

I went for a Titans mastermind hosted by Brian Kurtz. The room was full of people like Jeff Walker, David Deutsch, Perry Marshall, and Ryan Lee, who’ve spent decades figuring out what makes people pay attention and take action. They were remarkably generous with what they knew: what worked, what didn’t, and what they’re still figuring out.

But one word kept coming up the whole time.

Analog.

That’s when it clicked. Without realizing it, I’d been heading that direction for about a year.

A Year of Slowing Down

It started with a little Field Notes notebook in my pocket. I’ve always had ideas running through my head, and most of them disappeared as fast as they showed up. So I started writing them down.

Then came bullet journaling. Then cursive practice, fountain pens, stationery, an embosser for personal letters. Now I’m even hunting for a typewriter. Not because I need one. Because speed isn’t always the point.

When I write a handwritten letter, I can’t just hit send. I have to sit down and think about what I want to say. That’s why a letter feels different from an email. Someone gave you something they can’t get back.

Their time.

I’ve gotten back into sketching for the same reason. A photo takes a second. A sketch makes you stop and actually see.

And I’ve been spending more time walking the creek near our home in Mountain Home Village, sometimes with our German Shepherd, Bruno. The Japanese call it shinrin-yoku, forest bathing. It just means slowing down in the trees and not trying to accomplish anything.

That’s hard for me. I’ve spent my adult life solving problems. But the creek doesn’t need anything from me, and the mountains aren’t impressed by how busy I am.

Less rushing. More noticing.

Then They Handed Us a Book

So there I was in Connecticut, surrounded by people who know how to reach millions through technology, and they kept talking about printed newsletters, physical books, handwritten notes, and face-to-face conversations.

Then they gave each of us a copy of Return to Real. Not a PDF. Not a download link. An actual book.

I nearly finished it on the flight home.

Anyone can generate a thousand emails now. How many people will write one thoughtful letter? I use AI every day and I believe it’ll change how we live. But I’ve learned something this year.

Just because we can automate something doesn’t mean we should.

Just Being Dad

The best part of the trip had nothing to do with business.

I got a couple of days with my daughter, Bella. She’s a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy in New London, juggling military life, college, and volleyball. I couldn’t be prouder.

Watching her play. Hearing about her life. Just being Dad. No agenda, no project, no need to make the time productive.

Liz and I are empty nesters now. Andrew has his own family, and I’m a Pops. I love who my kids are becoming. I also miss the ordinary days when everyone was under one roof.

Glass Balls

Since I got home, I’ve been rereading a James Patterson book with a passage I underlined. It describes life as juggling five balls: work, family, health, friends, and spirit.

Work is a rubber ball. Drop it, and it bounces back. The other four are glass.

I’ve lost almost everything financially and rebuilt. I don’t regret the hard work. It helped build the life we have. But building something and enjoying it are two different things.

There will always be another client. There won’t always be another weekend with your daughter.

Time doesn’t bounce back.

What’s Next

I want to keep growing Tax Debt Consultants and helping people with serious IRS problems. But I’m building it so it doesn’t need me for every single thing. Better systems, smarter technology, and more freedom to write, sketch, travel, and spend time with Liz, Andrew, Bella, and my grandchildren.

I’m also working on a printed newsletter for the business. It feels different to me now. People in financial trouble want to feel seen and understood. Technology makes us faster, but trust still takes attention.

Full Circle

The notebooks, the cursive, the sketching, the creek. They weren’t separate hobbies. I was trying to slow down enough to notice my own life.

Then Connecticut, a book called Return to Real, and a few days with my daughter tied it all together.

I’m 57. I still have plenty I want to build. But I want the next chapter measured by more than that. By what I notice, what I make with my own hands, and how much time I spend with the people I love.

I don’t want to stop using technology. I want to use it wisely enough to have more time to be human.

Maybe that’s what returning to real means.

Some things are worth doing slowly.

— Carlos Samaniego