Why I Love Waves and Snow
First, they’re both made of water. Both always changing. Both reshaping into something new every minute.
I love watching Montana “cold smoke” powder blowing off the ridge on a bluebird day. I love riding a chairlift inside a storm — trees buried, sound muted, everything drifting silently by. A winter wonderland.
And I love waves. The big, roaring monsters of Nazaré — angry, moving mountains only a few can ride. And the chaotic, bone-breaking walls that smash into Pemaquid Point. Too messy to surf, too close to the rocks, too violent to save you if you get swept in.
Snow and waves both carry a truth:
They are beautiful, rideable, and absolutely lethal.
Anyone who skis the backcountry knows that avalanche terrain doesn’t care how “good” you are. One weak layer and the whole slope can slide. Your only safety is preparation — beacon, shovel, probe, air balloon, training — and the humility to turn around when instincts whisper not today.
Same in the ocean. One wrong angle and you go from riding the face to being swallowed, rag-dolled, pinned under a force that could snap your spine.
Both forms of water remind me of the creative and entrepreneurial life.
Powerful, unpredictable, full of opportunity — but also full of risk.Â
You can ride it. You can get crushed by it.
But you can learn how to reduce the danger.
And that’s where I come alive.
I’ve ridden waves.
I’ve crashed hard.
I’ve wiped out emotionally, spiritually, financially.
And I’ve built back — with discipline, with skill, with practiced awareness.
That’s why I write:
- To understand myself. We teach to learn.
- To give something real back. Hard-earned, not theoretical.
Most people haven’t ridden the mix of spiritual, emotional, entrepreneurial, and financial storms I have — and lived to keep carving.
Not because I built some empire. I didn’t.
I don’t live in Big Sky. I live in a 1,200 sq-ft townhouse in Bozeman and a humble 1,600 sq-ft colonial in Freeport.
I’m not “rich.”
But I am wealthy — in the ways that matter.
And I’m still riding.
Because I don’t want to die.
I want to feel alive.
I take risks, but only controlled ones.
My favorite skiing is carving — the discipline made famous by CARV, Tom Gellie,  Ted Legity. High-speed turns with exact precision. Tom can carve on greens like no one else.
It’s an art.
I’m drawn to that art — and I use it as my template for creativity, business, and life:
Speed with control.
Move fast and stay aligned.
Rails on edge.
That’s the angle I teach from controlled risk. Follow the Creative Funnel framework but also pack your “avy” gear and know how to use it – your financial plan and personal finance habits.
But even if you do everything right – sometimes the ridge slides.
You’ll be glad you have your “avy” gear and are trained to use it.
