Asay: Offline and Off-topic

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 25 Feb 2019 16:43:00 +0000

Getting off Instagram and Facebook was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I went dark on Instagram on May 25, 2017. My last post on Facebook was February 25, 2017. I dumped Facebook for a variety of reasons, but the final spark was a political debate with someone I didn't know in the comments section of a friend's (political) post. Instagram was harder and had nothing to do with politics: I just didn't like how I felt when I posted: skewing reality to game the most "likes". It brought out the worst in me.

Months later, I wish I could quit Twitter. Actually, a few days ago, I deleted the app on my phone and removed the open tab on my laptop. So far, so good. I have kept Twitter alive because it's quite helpful when I write. I'm not sure, however, that it's worth it, given all the negativity I have to wade through to get those nuggets of wisdom.

So maybe Twitter is dead for me. Next (and final) would be getting rid of Strava, which a neighbor last night described as "Oh, it's Instagram for athletes." It's somewhat true, and somewhat destructive because it leads me to FOMO at all the cool lines or vert that others are getting. But it's also where I gauge safe places to ski, so I'll try to manage it for a few more months.

What winning looks like

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 25 Feb 2019 16:39:00 +0000

A friend sent this to me this morning:

C: “H, did you know that every week Matt Asay goes to England or France just to get fancy candy to give to our primary kids at church on Sundays?”

It's not true. I only go every few months or so (and, yes, I do buy "fancy candy" that the kids also look askance at because it's not what they're used to), but it's the kind of rumor I wish were true.

It's also the kind of thing that reveals just how amazing kids are, that they would even think that was possible or likely. Made my day.

A friend in need

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 10 May 2016 21:20:00 +0000

Sweltering through the smother of rush hour on the Central Line this morning, jet lagged and missing family, I felt profoundly weary. I had to prepare for my meetings, but all I could think about was a favorite passage from Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment:

We're always thinking of eternity as an idea that cannot be understood, something immense. But why must it be? What if, instead of all this, you suddenly find just a little room there, something like a village bath-house, grimy, and spiders in every corner, and that's all eternity is. Sometimes, you know, I can't help feeling that that's what it is.

While I don’t believe in such a heaven (even though I still struggle to square the Mormon worker bee mentality with “eternal rest”), it’s very much what life is like. At least, my life, and I know I'm not alone in this. (Cue "Eleanor Rigby."). I keep finding that Facebook isn’t so much a projection of real life as it is a desperate aspiration to the lives we wish we had.

When we let down our guards, though, and admit that we're hurting, we discover compassion from and companionship with others.

But first we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to be crooked.

Two women did that in our Sunday meeting, sharing the burden of motherhood from the pulpit, exposing their fears and weaknesses, while also offering hope in its joys. I'm not a mother, but I felt so happy after listening to their talks, because each helped me see some light in the darkness of my own personal afflictions.

It happened again today, when a dear friend from high school reached out to comfort me. I love close friends like this, people for whom we needn't pretend at Potemkin lives. We bleed and they aren’t too bothered by the mess.

I never thought life could be so surprisingly, amazingly hard. So unfair. So relentless.

And yet people can be even more surprisingly, amazingly good. And fair. And devoted. I'm so grateful to the guardian angels, living and probably dead, who help make this life wonderful, even when it's not.

Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 08 May 2016 14:05:00 +0000

Each Mother's Day I get flowers for Jen, but also for my three daughters. I have long wanted them to reverence the calling of "mother." It took me 20 years to appreciate my dad, but I came out of the womb loving my mom.

I think many of us grow up feeling this way.

I could offer up a range of reasons for this disconnect (It's not as if my dad wasn't/isn't an exceptionally generous and thoughtful person who coached me and helped me in numerous ways - he was), but perhaps the best came from my recent reading of Thackeray's Vanity Fair, in which he says: "Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."

"Mother," in other words, is childish shorthand for mercy, love, and forgiveness. But of course it's not "childish" in the pejorative sense. Mormon that I am, I can also rely on Eliza R. Snow's expression of our doctrine that if we have a Father in Heaven, we surely have a Mother in Heaven ("In the heav’ns are parents single? / No, the thought makes reason stare; / Truth is reason—truth eternal / Tells me I’ve a mother there"), one that is deeply concerned with our well-being, even as our Father in Heaven is. They are equal in that loving concern for us.

However, one other thing I've learned is that no mother really feels up to being idolized as some earthly imprint of heaven. I first learned this from Jen.

Jen is away today, on a trip that unfortunately coincided with Mother's Day. "Unfortunate" for me and our kids, but not so much for her. Jen has never liked Mother's Day, at least, since she became a mother. Though I and the kids think she's wonderful, it's not a "job" that she ever aspired to have, and it's not one that she feels she does especially well.

So for her and many others, Mother's Day can feel like one big guilt trip, not a celebration. This is why we stopped having "my mom is perfect" talks in our ward five years ago when we began hearing from women in the ward about how painful the day and that meeting were for them.

Which leaves us here.

I'm trying to find ways to celebrate what Jen does, and what my daughters will do, without making them feel the burden of unrealistic expectations. I'm trying to find a way to express love for who they are, not some stylized Mommy Blog version of who they could be If They Just Tried A Little Harder™.

I don't want, in other words, a seemingly abolitionist To Kill a Mockingbird Atticus Finch divorced from the reality of segregationalist Atticus in Go Set a Watchman. The best people do noble things in the midst of gross imperfection. They struggle. They're ugly at times. They're real.

For my daughters, this means they may have less-than-perfect homes. They may raise their children alone. They may not have any children, whether by choice or circumstance. They may be divorced or never choose or be able to marry.

And yet they can be mothers.

When they are, I hope they will be as wonderful as Jen. Or as my mom, Vicky. Or as my mother-in-law, Kathy. Not because these ladies are perfect. They're not. But because when we're struggling to reach our merciful God, they will be adequate shorthand for Him...and Her. Someone to listen. Someone to care. That's enough.

Learning to be real

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 13 Dec 2015 23:05:00 +0000

I think I've struggled my entire life with how much I was supposed to be a real person, or how much I was supposed to plaster on a facade of what the perfect me would look like. Some day. When I was perfect.

The problem, however, is that it's far easier to appear perfect than to be perfect.

Or maybe not. After all, I'm pretty good at spotting the sanctimonious Pharisee, having spent so much of my life being that person. You know, the person that makes rule-keeping obnoxious; the person that has every commandment nailed (except for that minor one to love thy neighbor).

And if I find it so easy to spot them, maybe everyone else does, too?

I was thinking a lot about this during our LDS stake conference the past two days. One of my friends, Dave, spoke, and he talked about a principle he now uses to guide his Sabbath-day observance: he basically tries to do things that build his personal and family relationships.

That's it. No long list of Do's and Don't's. Just that guiding principle.

Then another friend, Harland, spoke about how we need to ask ourselves if we're giving our best selves to our church, work, or anything other than our families. I care deeply about my family, but I'm pretty sure they get second or third place in my attentions quite often.

And then another friend, Laura, spoke about the need for empathy, and how Christ shows perfect love and understanding of each of us, whatever our trials. It struck me that being Christlike isn't about keeping rules, really. It's about developing profound respect and love for others, such that we want to carry them even despite their flawed, sometimes annoying selves.

As if that wasn't enough, on my flight today, I decided to read more from Way Below the Angels, which has been such a refreshingly honest assessment of LDS missions (or, at least, mine):

But then just like in the dismal upstairs bedroom in Hasselt long before, and sort of like in the attic just a few hours ago, came that calm that I now recognized as the closest thing to sure I ever felt about God. And that feeling said, without any words, that I didn’t have to baptize Lieve or even 83 other people to feel good about what I was doing.

The whole mission business, it hit me for at least a nano-moment, was more about suffering a little with people and feeling connected to them than it was about baptizing them.

It was about being a friend, however trite that sounded, however much breaking-up boyfriends and girlfriends debased the term by saying they just wanted to be friends without even really meaning it, however much leader types were always saying to missionaries you’re not here to make friends, like that was some bad thing. Jesus had a pretty strong view about friends, as in laying your life down for them, which went way beyond the casual sort of relationship most people meant by that term.

That’s what the whole mission business was about, it now seemed to me. Maybe even the whole religion business. Maybe even the whole life business.

This feels profoundly Right to me. Though it's also not who I've been for much of my life.

I was the missionary that took 18 months of my 24-month mission to realize I wasn't there to keep rules (which I did, to an amazing degree). I was there to love the people of France and Belgium.

And I was the father that didn't really understand until my eldest was nearly 18 that my job wasn't to block-and-tackle my kids into rigidly living every commandment that I had failed to keep as a youth, but was instead to help them understand how to become clean once they found their way to dirty. (And everyone, everyone, does, though some don't recognize pride as the most pernicious of all "dirty.")

And I am the husband that continues to struggle to truly partner with Jen on all this parenting without becoming so consumed by it that I forget that she's my first priority. Or should be. If I were actually a good husband.

In short (or, not, given how much I've already written), I think I've pretty much failed at life so far. The good news, however, is that I can do better for the rest of my life (and the remaining gazillion years we Mormons believe all of us go on - sorry to break that to you), and be much happier by living "after the manner of happiness."

Which is not really to make a fetish of commandments. Instead, it's to keep the two great commandments of which Christ said, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." Namely love God and love our neighbor.

Only two. That seems easy. :-)

A day I needed saving

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 13 Sep 2015 20:28:00 +0000

Yesterday wasn't Ryan Hobson's best race. Nor did it go according to plan for Matt Hemmert.

And yet both of these Adobe colleagues ensured that I would complete a race that I desperately wanted to quit. They saved me when I desperately, frantically needed saving.

Ryan and I started Lotoja together, but we were never going to finish it together. He's faster/stronger than I am on the bike, as were the others in my Adobe race group. As we started to climb Strawberry, I fell behind, only to plod along in the 100-degree heat until I gasped my way, solo, into Montpelier and then on to two more climbs and a descent into Afton, Wyoming.

At that point, I felt like heat exhaustion had claimed me, and I just wanted to quit. I was done. Cooked.

Maybe literally.

However, my ride support (Matt - more on him in a minute), told me that some other Adobe colleagues had just left two minutes beforehand, and I figured I could catch them.

That's when I saw Ryan.

Ryan had flatted two or three times already, and was clearly frustrated. As he said, "I've trained all season for this, only to have the work wasted due to bad luck with pinch flats."

Except that it wasn't wasted. Ryan's place on the podium had been ruined by his flats, but he accomplished something much more profound:

He saved me.

I tried to give him my wheels, hopeful that it would give me a great reason to quit the race. He refused, and instead insisted on pulling me all the way to Alpine, powering through brutal headwinds for 37 miles. He had to go slower than he wanted, but he saved me.

At Alpine we ran into a group of Adobe colleagues, and I finished the race with them. Some were struggling even more than I had, and now it was my turn to help others, as Ryan had helped me. We rode that final quarter of a 202-mile ride together, sometimes going painfully slow.

But I didn't care. I was with my team, my family. I have always been alone the last half of Lotoja. Today I crossed the finish line with a team. Every time I think about it, I tear up, because I was so close to abandoning all hope (actually, I had abandoned hope), and my Adobe team saved me. They resurrected me, as it were, and gave me strength to complete the ride.

Which brings me to Matt.

Matt was supposed to be riding yesterday, except he's had some medical issues (an issue with his Achilles, if I remember right). So he volunteered to help me, feeding me throughout the day. Every time I pulled into a support zone, he was there, encouraging me, clearly anxious for my welfare. Matt and I attended junior high together, and neither of us back then would have scored high on empathy.

But today he, too, saved me.

So today I feel grateful. Grateful for the good people with whom I work. Grateful for my Adobe team, my Adobe family. And particularly grateful to these two men. It wasn't the day they had wanted for themselves, but it was exactly what I needed for me.

Go Set a Watchman (The complexities of conscience)

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 27 Jul 2015 23:19:00 +0000

Go Set a Watchman was written first, but it's right that it has been published after To Kill a Mockingbird. And, fittingly, well after.

After we've had time to prop up Atticus as a hero, as a perfect man who stood against white racism. He was that. He is that, segregationalist and all. Precisely because he is complicated and sometimes wrong.

I have heard friends talk about not wanting to read Watchman because they're afraid it will ruin their conception of Atticus. But this is foolish. It just means they want to maintain a false conception of Atticus, one that Harper Lee (the author) never intended.

As Dr. Finch (Atticus' brother and Lee's primary speaker of truth) tells Scout,

As you grew up, when you were grown, totally unknown to yourself, you confused your father with God. You never saw him as a man with a man's heart, and a man's failings - I'll grant you it may have been hard to see, he makes so few mistakes, but he makes 'em like all of us.

So, too, did we deify Atticus in a way that even a fictional character couldn't sustain. And we, too, were like an "emotional cripple, leaning on him, getting the answers from him, assuming that [our] answers would always be his answers."

But in Lee's mind, Atticus was always messy. He was a segregationalist in her mind long before he defended Tom Robinson.

Or, actually, he was both defender and segregationalist at the same time, because both are covered in Go Set a Watchman. This is Atticus. Messy. Human.

Like you. Like me.

It's easy to blank the bigots, damn the racists, and sideline the various people that don't agree with us. But as Dr. Finch points out to Scout, "You'd better take time for 'em, honey, otherwise you'll never grow."

That growth doesn't come from relaxing our standards or principles, but rather in seeing and caring for people. That is, Lee (through Dr. Finch) is urging us to take people on their terms, and love them for who they are, for who someone is will always be dramatically more complicated than the symbolic what we assign them.

Which is why I believe anyone that loves Mockingbird should read Watchman. The writing isn't as good, though some parts are exceptional. But the challenges it imposes on facile thinking are desperately needed now, even more than they were when Lee wrote the two books.

Scout, Atticus, Aunt Alexandra, Henry Clinton...they're all painted in much more complexity, and precisely because no one comes off looking perfect, they each look all the more beautiful.

That's why as writing it's just good, but as an exercise in making us think it's great.

The burden of what I know

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 12 Jul 2015 20:20:00 +0000

In a note to some close friends today, I said this:

One of the great things about community is that it puts us in contact with all sorts of people who are different from us. That's also the terrible thing about it.

One of the great things about the gospel is that it gives us perspective on why life can be so crappy and hard at times. That's also the terrible thing about it, as it can prevent us from venting and grieving and hating life for being hard. And unfair. And unrelenting.

I don't want to turn this into PDA (public display of angst), but I did want to reach out to others who, like I, may feel burdened by what they know. That is, they feel compelled to act in a certain way because of truths they know (religious or otherwise), but sometimes are tired out by the seemingly endless list of demands made upon the "knowing".

There are times I just want to check out. When I don't want to be kind. Or diligent.

Times when it would be easier to sit at home and read a book, or go on long bike rides, or ski, or do anything other than fulfill obligations to my various communities (family, neighborhood, church, work, etc.), and live up to what I know.

Everyone feels this way at some point, because only a jerk is completely selfish.

The rest of us are jerks, but only in part.

For we minor to moderate jerks, we may not want to do half the things we will end up doing today. But we will. Because we know.

But we don't have to like it. Not always. At least, for me, not today.

My fascination street

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 27 Jan 2015 14:52:00 +0000

I remember driving with friends up Provo Canyon sometime around 1990 to The Cure's "Fascination Street." Actually, it was the whole Disintegration album, but that's the song I remember, particularly this morning when my iPhone shuffled its way to that song's pulsing bass and slippery guitars.

It's an incredible song.

It's also a reminder of all the broken promises of youth. At least, that's how I hear it. I'm not someone to pine for the past, and particularly my high school past. I feel for my children who have to go through the slog of adolescence in today's world. It was so hard for me. I imagine it's much harder now.

All of which is captured in the music and lyrics of that song.

Robert Smith, the lead singer and magician behind The Cure, once explained the song is meant to capture the thrill of adoring crowds, the mania of the concert. It does that.

But it also points to the emptiness of it all.

I feel it all fading and paling and I'm begging
To drag you down with me to kick the last nail in

Maybe Smith felt that emptiness then, the emptiness that comes through in Bob Seger's exceptional "Turn the Page":

Out there in the spotlight
You're a million miles away
Every ounce of energy
You try to give away
As the sweat pours out your body
Like the music that you play...
Here I am
On the road again&nbsp
There I am&nbsp
Up on the stage
Here I go
Playin' star again
There I go
Turn the page

The other day I watched a recent Cure concert on Palladium. They were playing "Fascination Street," but it was a much different Smith on the guitar and vocals. He still sounds pretty good. He doesn't look quite as good:

At some point we grow up (hopefully) and realize that the so much of the glitter of youth isn't gold. That it's not worth "pulling on the hair and the pout" to pretend that our youthful indiscretions were actually all that interesting or fulfilling.

But somehow inescapable. And important.

In boring old marriage with all the accoutrements of minivans and mortgages we discover a joyful serenity. Or can. It's not flashy. You wouldn't want to see it in concert. But it's stable, it's healthy, it's happy.

Not always, of course. And not everyone has this opportunity, or the chance to have children. Yet all of us have the chance to raise children, ours or otherwise. (A reminder of this came today as I drove past my kids' school and saw our wonderful crossing guard. I think that's the job I want: to get to greet the kids each day on their way to and from school. Also, I wouldn't mind aggravating drivers that want to zoom by....)

As much as I might want the energy of my youth, and at times the opportunities that were still so open. Yet I wouldn't want to drive back down its fascination streets. But I do love raising kids, my own and those of others.

Nothing makes me happier. Or as frustrated. Or as tired. But happy, too, and happy, mostly.

Life is better when you're old....especially when you get to help your kids navigate their own youth.

Not sure where this is going (I think I just wanted the opportunity to juxtapose The Cure with The Book of Mormon), but it felt like it came to a happy conclusion this morning when I read Lehi's words to his son, Jacob:

And now, behold, if Adam had not transgressed he would not have fallen, but he would have remained in the garden of Eden. And all things which were created must have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created; and they must have remained forever, and had no end.

And they would have had no children; wherefore they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin.

But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.

Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.

No children, no youth, no misery. But eventually, because of these, joy. I guess the point is to move on, to at some point stop trying to be a child and instead become happy with raising them. Not always easy, but it has been worth it.

The highlight reels of our social media lives

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 27 Dec 2014 00:09:00 +0000

I don't write as often as I used to. Not on my blog, not in my journal. Because, well, Facebook. Or Instagram. It's just easier to pretend to be witty in a sentence or two than demonstrate I'm not in a blog post.

Which is another way of saying it's harder to be honest in a blog.

It's not that I try to lie about my life. It's just hard to encapsulate the messiness of life in an Instagram picture or a hash tag.

Instagramming lies

But last week I went backcountry skiing with a friend, and as we skinned up to Little Water Peak, we talked about the reality distortion field that is social media. As just one example, here's the Instagram post from that outing:

With the associated text: "No lift lines up Mill D."

I'm not sure what people thought when they read that - the picture gives off an idyllic vibe - but the reality is that the absolute best things about the day were the exhausting climb and the chance to talk openly about how broken we are as people much of the time. In other words, my day was made by learning that my friend's challenges are just as bitter and hard as mine. Sometimes more so.

It wasn't a great day because the powder was great (which it was). That was probably the least interesting part of the outing, but it's the only thing captured for everyone to else to envy.

If anything, the picture conveys a carefree life which is unfortunately not the one I happen to lead.

Look at all the lonely people

Just as it's likely not the life you lead, either. But that's not what your Facebook posts say. Unwittingly or intentionally, we tend to project our best selves on social media. a-Ha sang that "the sun always shines on TV," and on Facebook we're always smiling, our kids are always smart and the food is always beautiful.

Which is why those browsing Facebook end up depressed, as several studies have found. We just lost our job, got divorced, learned our child is addicted to pornography or simply burned dinner, but everyone else on Facebook is AMAZING!!!!

At least, until we talk to them offline and learn that they, like we, are kind of messed up. Just like us.

In my church calling I get to assign talk topics to our sacrament meeting speakers. My counsel to all speakers is always something along the lines of: "No one wants to hear how perfect you are. We want to hear how you've overcome trials or are trying to do so, because we're all broken to some degree and need help."

When the speakers take this to heart, our meetings are incredible. I wish our Facebook posts were as enlightening.

So why exactly did you choose Adobe?

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Fri, 31 Oct 2014 16:06:00 +0000

As hard as it has been to make the decision to leave MongoDB and join Adobe, I haven't said nearly enough about why I'm so excited to start at Adobe on November 3.

And I am. Extraordinarily excited. Adobe's opportunity is immense.

It's all about the data

I believe in data. The last few years I've been swimming in it at MongoDB and Nodeable, but I've been down in the Big Data weeds with both companies, laying data infrastructure to help companies take advantage of an increasingly dizzying array of data sources at ever greater volumes.

As important as this is, it's only when data touches business that it becomes truly groundbreaking, as friend and former analyst Peter Goldmacher has written. He identifies three categories of Big Data winners, the first being the world I just left:

The Big category of winners is the infrastructure providers like the Hadoop vendors and the NoSQL vendors. These are critical enabling technologies and the winners here have very bright futures as we believe these are the technologies companies will build businesses on for decades to come.

The second are those that "appify" data. In some ways, this represents Adobe's opportunity:

The Bigger category of winners are the Apps and Analytics vendors that abstract the complexity of working with very complicated underlying technologies into a user friendly front end. The addressable audience of business users is exponentially larger than the market for programmers working on core technology. Importantly, over time, apps that just automate processes are a commodity. We believe that next gen apps will embed data to give processes context, and the value is in the data, not the automation.

The third applies more to companies that aren't in the business of selling software or related services at all:

The Biggest category of winners is the Big Data practitioners. These are the business people that have identified opportunities to use data to create new opportunities or disrupt legacy business models. We think this opportunity is so profound, we believe that the dividing line between winners and losers in the business world over the next decade will hinge on a company’s ability to leverage data as an asset.

While Adobe leans into the second category, it also embraces elements of the third. Few companies I know can credibly claim to be as devoted to data as Adobe's digital marketing business is. The business revolves around enabling companies to build content-rich and data-rich web and mobile applications, and then parse that data to give companies meaningful insight to their customers.

Why mobile is now

Having acquired Omniture years ago, Adobe has been a leader in such data analytics for a long time. However, the world is changing, with mobile devices and machine data (Internet of Things) playing an increasingly important role in our lives. To get context on a prospect or customer, organizations must understand such mobilized data.

Which is why I'm joining Adobe.

Adobe is already the undisputed leader in digital marketing, as a recent Forrester Wave proclaimed. Nothing else comes close.

But there's more to be done, because there are richer, more immersive digital experiences to be created - whether in mobile apps or on the web or elsewhere - and far more data to be analyzed and made understandable.

I'm not yet at the company and don't have perfect visibility into Adobe's activities, but I've already seen a great deal of movement on mobile. My job as vice president of mobile for the digital marketing business is to help channel existing energy around mobile and help figure out new mobile strategies for driving additional growth.

In so doing, we'll make an exceptional company even stronger. But ultimately it's not about Adobe: it's about Adobe's customers. It's about helping companies to take advantage of their most important asset - their data - as it's increasingly mobilized and harder to understand.

It's an absolutely massive opportunity for Adobe and I'm very grateful to get to contribute a small part in its success.

Parting thoughts

Will it include open source? Of course. As I wrote recently, every company necessarily involves open source now, because every company must appeal to developers. Adobe is no different and has recognized this for some time. (PhoneGap, anyone?)

I'm not leaving open source behind at MongoDB. I'm not leaving Big Data behind, either.

No, instead I'm taking both and adding mobile to them, which is wise given that mobile is eating the world. I could not possibly be any happier than I am with the decision. I will dearly miss friends at MongoDB, but I am anxious to get started making new ones at Adobe.

It's home.

My Own Unexpected Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Wed, 29 Oct 2014 19:05:00 +0000

Friday is my last day at MongoDB. Monday is my first day at Adobe, where I'll be heading up mobile strategy for Adobe's digital marketing business. This wasn't a change I expected two months ago, but it's one that feels very right.

I joined MongoDB two years ago and expected to stay forever. I loved - and love - the technology, the people, the potential.

But for a variety of reasons, I found I needed to move on. I don't understand why it ultimately didn't work out as expected. Someday, I will. But today I don't.

Of the various startups and enterprises I considered, some of them the most visible companies in cloud and Big Data, many will think Adobe is not an obvious fit. It's not an open source company, for one thing, though it has significant open source assets (PhoneGap, for example). It traditionally hasn't focused on developers. And so on.

Despite these diversions from my status quo, it has felt like home since my first meeting with Brad Rencher, who runs Adobe's $1 billion digital marketing business. As I drove home after each successive interview with him and others at the company, I found myself aglow with happiness and energy. Though it looks least like my obvious next step, it feels most like my natural home.

I need to be at Adobe.

It will be my first time commuting to work in over 15 years. That will take some getting used to. It will be my first time working daily in an office with colleagues. This, too, will require adjustment (and a fair amount of patience from them :-).

But it's the right place for me.

Why? I don't really know, other than the feeling I get when I walk into the building, and when I talk with my soon-to-be colleagues. These are my people. This is my company. It's good to be home.

Snapped

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 30 Sep 2014 13:55:00 +0000

Last night I snapped. It wasn't the opportune time for a breakdown. We were starting Family Home Evening and, well, it's supposed to be a family bonding time. Like this:

Instead it was more like an angry dirge, and I was the angel of death.

It wasn't meant to be that way. Our FHEs are never idyllic but usually they don't cause contention. Well, not much.

But after 11 months in exile from our home and a fair amount of soul-searching about my job, I'd had it. In fact, we all have. We've been living in rental homes, never quite sure when we'd be booted out and have to find another place. I've been ruminating over work and what I really want to do, and that has taken its toll, as well. We've been very fortunate to have good, convenient houses to live in, but the rental houses are not home.

They're not ours.

This Saturday we get to move back to our home, and it truly feels like home. Every time I walk through I feel peaceful. That's particularly impressive given the amount of debt we had to take on to build it. I'm extremely squeamish about debt, but our decision to rebuild the home has not troubled me. It felt right a year ago, and it feels right today.

But last night the weight of nearly a year living in limbo overwhelmed me and I snapped. Lily wailed, "Why isn't anyone in this house ever happy?" Which, of course, made me angry because WE ARE HAPPY, DAMN IT!

Sigh.

It spilled over into the morning, and only just now in the midst of typing this did the waves of frustration crest and subside into gentle assurance that all will be well. A few minutes ago Isaac asked me to drive him to school as his ride never showed. I had been frustrated with him for not doing his chores but this chance to serve him...calmed me.

I drove home joyous that in the midst of so much uncertainty, my family...is certain. My wonderful wife and kids...certain. No matter what they do or who they are, we are family.

And we are going home in just a few days. All is well. Damn it.

Because You Chose Her

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 11 May 2014 15:37:00 +0000

The same lady has been cutting my hair for roughly 25 years. As we talked this week, she started relating how her ex-husband treats his new fiancée, doing things for her that he refused to do for his first wife. It clearly frustrated her, but I offered these words, "Don't worry. He hasn't changed. It's just unfortunately easier to treat a comparative stranger with grace than someone we know well."

When we're dating someone, we tend to gloss over their problems and emphasize their strengths. This is normal: we're in love (at this point, it's really mostly infatuation) and tend to see through rose-colored glasses.

Jen and I had a lovely dinner last night, and fell to discussing how our life together has ended up different - and much better - than we had expected when we married at the infantile age of 21. Nearly 20 years into our marriage, we've discovered that the inadequacies we once glossed over haven't gone away. In some cases, they've become more pronounced.

For far too many, the answer to this realization that our spouse isn't perfect, and almost certainly never will be, is to divorce. To give up. To determine that it would be easier to start over with someone else.

But Sherlock - yes, the BBC production that you must watch - helped remind me recently that we generally choose the problems we see in our spouses. In this scene, Sherlock Holmes' friend and colleague, John Watson, has just discovered that his wife, Mary, is a former assassin. (Hey, we all bring baggage to a relationship! :-)

JOHN: What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you [Mary]?
SHERLOCK (now leaning against the right-hand door post): Everything....
SHERLOCK (a little louder but still quieter than we’re used to hearing his voice): You’re a man who couldn’t stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high.
(He pauses for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: That’s me, by the way. (He raises his left hand and waves at him.) Hello.
(He points towards Mrs Hudson.)
SHERLOCK: Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel.
MRS HUDSON: It was my husband’s cartel. I was just typing.
SHERLOCK (looking at her): And exotic dancing.
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock Holmes, if you’ve been Youtube-ing ...
SHERLOCK (louder, talking over her): John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people ... (his voice becomes quieter again) ... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman you’ve fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?
(John grimaces briefly and then, with his eyes still fixed on Sherlock, he points towards his wife at the other side of the room.)
JOHN (his voice full of suppressed tears): But she wasn’t supposed to be like that.
(Mrs Hudson looks across to Mary in shock. Mary lowers her head.)
JOHN (to Sherlock, pointing again across the room, his voice a little stronger): Why is she like that?
(Sherlock looks away towards the sofa wall for several seconds and then turns to look directly into John’s eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Because you chose her.

John's reaction (video) to this is classic. He rages against the fact that, truly, he has chosen all the wonders and problems Mary brings him.

I've watched this episode two or three times now, and I cry every time at this point. Because it's true.

As many times in my life as I've wondered why something bad has happened to me - why a child or Jen or a sibling or friend or someone has let me down - I've ultimately realized that this is the life I've chosen. These are the people I've chosen to muddle through life with. I married Jen not knowing her perfectly, but knowing her well enough to understand she's not perfect. And yet she makes me very nearly perfectly happy. Every day that we struggle together, I love her even more.

Not because it is easy. But precisely because it's hard.

We choose our trials by choosing the people with whom we want to spend our lives. But not merely trials. We also get to choose the people who will make our trials meaningful.

With that in mind, what a fantastic choice I made in marrying Jen Minster, now Jen Asay. This hasn't always been the case, but it's true now: she is my best friend. Jen is the best wife and mother I could possibly have chosen.

I chose to marry her back in August 1994. I choose to be happy with her each day now. I'm so grateful for Jen.

Why Trust Is the Foundation for Economies and Homes

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 27 Apr 2014 13:18:00 +0000

The foundation of any economy is trust. Thus spake Francis Fukuyama years ago, and thus I see on a regular basis in my own work. Companies thrive on trust. So do families. Indeed, every organization that we care about depends upon trust.

Which is why it's so critical that we live lives of integrity, and assume others do, too.

Trust At Work

Think about that person at work (you know of whom I speak) who talks behind others' backs. The person who is constantly critical. The person who is clearly looking out for themselves and will throw you under the bus if doing so is to her advantage.

We don't trust that person.

And when we don't trust, it's hard to get excited about collaborating with them, even if doing so is important to the efficiency of our team or company. Instead we route around them, looking for people within the organization we trust. We end up creating a wasteful organization that functions, but not nearly as well as it would if there were more trust.

Now magnify this by a million companies and it's easy to see why trust matters to the proper functioning of an economy. If we can't trust the person on the other end of the transaction, we'll either create all sorts of infrastructure to try to discard the need for trust or we'll simply do business with someone else. Either road leads to inefficiency.

Trust At Home

The same is true of personal relationships. One reason that marriage is so important is that it's an exclusive union, or should be. Marriage isn't convenient. It's not porous, allowing for fading or emerging loyalties. I committed to love my wife exclusively, forever. (There is no "until death do us part" in Mormon theology.)

Assuming we're faithful to that covenant, imagine the trust it engenders. Because we needn't waste time worrying about the basic commitment each of us has to each other, we can invest our time on far more important things (like the optimal way to bury ourselves in debt with a home remodel :-). No matter how committed another relationship may seem, without the bedrock commitment of marriage it's hard to imagine equivalent levels of trust.

Of course no marriage is perfect. Of course marital commitment ebbs and flows. But I still feel it's a superior bond with superior power to deliver trust. It has been in my home, anyway.

More Trust, Please

That's why I'm trying to live a life of greater integrity, both at home and at work. Turns out this is hard. Because we live in an increasingly individualistic and selfish society, it's hard to live in such a way that others realize we're not equally loose in our commitments.

One way I'm trying to instill trust in others is by constantly telling them how much I value them. When I feel disappointed by someone else's actions, I find a way to tell them (hopefully in a gentle way that builds the relationship rather than weakening it). I want the people around me to understand that I trust them, that I'm depending on them and will not be drawn into second-guessing them.

For those that report to me, this means that I defend them and their actions at the executive team level, but also when their peers or subordinates come to complain. My reports need to know that whether they have done well or poorly, I will take the blame for their actions and not propagate gossip or criticism of them. They also need to know that I trust them. Completely.

The same is true at home, whether with Jen or with my kids. Life is too short to doubt people. Yes, others will let us down, but it's simply too much work to constantly worry about whether Isaac was telling me the truth about his music, or whether Scout really did her homework. People need to be trusted. It's for them to live up to that trust, not for me to micromanage how they do it.

In so doing, I've become much happier and, hopefully, so are the people with whom I live and work.

All Business Is Personal

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 15 Mar 2014 12:52:00 +0000

There must be jobs that don't involve working with other people. I don't happen to have one of them, nor would I want one. The longer I work, the more I discover how essential people are to the allegedly impersonal world of business.

Business, ostensibly about making money is really about connecting with people.

I have a brother-in-law (let's call him "Ryan" because, in fact, that's his name) with whom I like to ride bikes and talk business. I remember years ago Ryan evaluating different job options, trying to determine the sort of job that would fit his personality. I and other members of the family, perhaps Ryan included, thought he might be best as a counselor, as he tends to be a good listener and offers thoughtful advice.

Instead he's in sales.

Sales would seem like an odd resting place for someone allergic to the stereotypical sales persona. And yet sales is actually a great place for someone who genuinely likes other people, wants to understand their needs and try to meet them. A great salesperson, in my mind, is precisely that counselor-type who cares more about taking care of the customer than squeezing her for cash.

This is as true in business management, marketing, engineering or any other area of the modern business. People matter, and being great at business essentially translates to "being great with people."

Sometimes those people are co-workers. Sometimes they're customers. Or suppliers. Or competitors. But always, always business is about people.

As such, when I hire I try to find people that I both like and respect, and that I feel will like and respect their colleagues, customers, partners and more. Importantly, it matters as much to me how they treat a competitor - the supposed enemy - as their customers.

To evaluate, I try to see them in non-business settings. If someone is a jerk to their waiter, they're going to be a jerk to their colleagues. If they're intemperate with their children they'll be the same with customers. As Sirius Black, in one of the Harry Potter novels, articulates it:

If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

Business is personal. Always. It's about people. Always. Hence, it's important that in recruiting people for a job we pay as much attention to their essential goodness toward other people as their specific talents in some impersonal task (writing, engineering or whatever). This balance of great talent with essential goodness is why I love my MongoDB family so much, and it's the benchmark by which I now judge other enterprises.

What religion has taught me about business

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 22 Feb 2014 16:14:00 +0000

So apparently I’m in the right religion to be a CEO. At least, according to Amy Chua’s new book, co-written with her husband (and my former Constitutional Law professor), Jed Rubenfeld. In a nutshell, the book says that certain groups - Jews, Mormons, Indians, others - are particularly likely to be successful because of a somewhat unique combination of inferiority complex (“everybody hates us”), superiority complex (“we’re the chosen people”) and the ability to delay gratification (“real salvation comes after I die”).

It’s a nice theory, and true so far as it goes. Which may not be that far.

Religion = Money? (Nope)

For example, it doesn’t explain why the vast majority of Mormons aren’t leaders of nations or corporations. It just (maybe) explains why a comparative few Mormons come to run the U.S. Senate (both sides of the political aisle), why we have a disproportionately high number of CEOs in large corporations, etc.

Maybe.

But it also misses the point. I really dislike this narrative - “all Mormons are programmed for success” - because I think it does a really shoddy job of extrapolating worldly success from a religion that truly only programs us for spiritual happiness. (D&C 82:8-9. Commandments teach us how to be happy, not how to make money.)

All that said, I do find that religion helps me in my work, but not in the way that Chua and Rubenfeld suspect.

Bold Vision, Minus the Arrogance

For example, my company, MongoDB, has been extraordinarily successful, both in terms of developer adoption and subsequent financial success. A recent $150 million funding round pegged our valuation at well over $1 billion, a number that seems ridiculously low when you consider just how ambitious our mission:

We’re enabling engineers to build and run modern applications.

Simple on its face, but potent in its meaning. An entire generation of developers is growing up on MongoDB, a data infrastructure that fosters business creativity and agility never seen before. Along with Hadoop and other complementary technology, we are, quite literally, changing the world.

It’s therefore not surprising that we have very vocal detractors or “haters,” if you will.

Haters, as I’ve written, are a leading indicator of success. No one bothers to pile criticism on the losers. It’s a waste of time. No, it’s only when someone is changing the world that the critics line up to try to shoot them down.

A Religious Way to Succeed

But one thing I’ve learned from my religion: it’s never worthwhile to fight back against critics. Love them? Yes. Try to understand their positions? Yes. But fight them? Why?

For one thing, both my religion and my blogging have taught me that criticism quickly fades. The half-life of a negative blog post is 24 hours. Our attention spans are so short.

Plus, we always overestimate how many people heard the criticism in the first place. I’m reminded of a story I heard at church. I can’t remember the source, but it goes like this: a man comes to his friend to ask for advice about responding to a negative story in the newspaper. His friend suggests that he not bother. “Half the people in town never saw the story. Half of those who did didn’t believe it. Half of the believers didn’t care. Half of those that cared have already forgotten about it. And the half who haven’t are such a small group that it really won’t matter if you just let it slide.”

By responding to criticism we amplify it; we give it a broader voice than it otherwise would have, and generally a much bigger voice than it deserves. As such, the only way to overcome evil, or criticism, is with good. Only a positive message effectively resolves a negative critique.

So my policy, and my company’s, is not to respond to critics except with ever more customer case studies of success using MongoDB.

Taking the High Road

Sometimes this is hard. It’s hard to sit by while critics unjustly malign a product and a company I love. But as a Mormon, I’m somewhat used to getting attacked unjustly. It’s been happening for over a hundred years. Sure, sometimes people have valid disagreements with my church. But articulating them through bitter denunciations and anger is never correct, and responding in anger is never right, either.

This is just one example of what my religion has taught me about business.

It hasn’t made me rich. It hasn’t made me CEO. So in Chua’s and Rubenfeld’s eyes, maybe it hasn’t made me “successful.” But my religion has made me happy, generally, both at home and at work, and that’s my measure of success.

A much more positive perspective on repentance

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 02 Feb 2014 15:37:00 +0000

Each week I write to the missionaries from my LDS ward, as well as to my cousin. This week I was thinking a lot about repentance - what it means, how it works, etc. In my studies, I was reviewing the etymology of the word "repentance" and came across a scholarly discussion on the topic. Buried in it was a fantastic gem of insight, which I shared with my missionaries.

Here's an excerpt from my letter today:

One scholar traces back our word “repentance” to “metanoia,” which has a far more positive definition than we normally give it:

Of 'metanoia', as Jesus used the word, the lamenting one's sins was a small part; the main part was something more active and fruitful, the setting up an immense new inward movement for obtaining the rule of life. And 'metanoia', accordingly, is: a change of the inner man….'Repentance' has an emotional tone; [...] is ethical and intellectual; the former is negative - a turning away from sin; the latter is positive - an enthusiasm for righteousness.

In such a positive view of repentance, there is still sorrow for sin. But it is not debilitating sorrow. It’s not “sit around and think ‘woe is me I’m so terrible’” sorrow. Instead, it’s an active enthusiasm for righteousness; for being better than we’ve been.

Small wonder, then, that Alma told his wayward missionary son, Corianton, not to let his sins trouble him except unto repentance (happy change). Or that Christ told thewoman taken in adultery to “go and sin no more.” It's not that Alma and Christ couldn't see the gravity of the sins. Rather, they simply recognized that true change doesn't come through languishing in hair-shirt sorrow for years. Both instead issued a call to get up, to move on and love righteousness.

Doesn’t that sound more like what actually works to make us change and be happy?

So, in practical terms, rather than trying to avoid doing wrong, repentance is really about actively seeking to do more good. It’s a supremely positive thing.

I think we too often get religion wrong. We think it's about a list of "Thou shalt nots," when instead it should be read as a roadmap to happiness. Not killing your neighbor is a nice start, as Christ taught, but the thing that will make us truly happy is to love our neighbors as ourselves, and the intermediate step is simply to think positively about them.

Anyway, time to spend more time with metanoia today. :-)

This week I made a friend

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sat, 18 Jan 2014 14:34:00 +0000

Friendship is a dangerous thing. Not once you're obviously friends with someone, but rather that moment when you suspect you might be friends with someone but it hasn't yet been confirmed by them. When they do, it's truly divine.

I had that happen this past week with a work colleague. I have a number of friends at my employer, MongoDB, but this week it became obvious that one of our senior leaders felt the same about me as I do about him: real friendship. He didn't say, "Matt, I hereby pronounce you my friend." No, it was more subtle than that. It just became obvious in a meeting we were having. And both of us relaxed.

Because that's what friendship does: it lets you relax your guard, and be yourself. Perhaps that's the true definition of a friend: someone with whom you can be most authentically yourself, because you genuinely care about them for who they are, and not for who they might pretend to be.

Friendship, then, may simply be a way for souls to converse, rather than exchanging pleasantries between hollow shades of who we really are.

Anyway, I'm not sure exactly how to express it, but it makes me happy. I'm very blessed to have good friends at home and at work that let me be me: crumbly, hugely fallible me.

"What Shall We Do?" - Finding Answers (and Happiness)

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Sun, 12 Jan 2014 23:15:00 +0000

Today I'm giving a talk in the Yalecrest 2nd Ward, thinking through the question asked in Acts and throughout the Book of Mormon: "What Shall We Do?" Here's my outline, if you're interested.

A. At some point in our lives, each of us has the same question: "What shall we do?” (It is a question repeated constantly in the scriptures, too)

1. Uttered by the poor and despised (of course the poor feel needy!) (Alma 32:5),

2. the despondent in sin that recognized light in others (Helaman 5:40),

3. the good people at Pentecost who felt the Spirit and wanted it consistently and plentifully in their lives (Acts 2:37-38)

4. and even a great king (Alma 22:15) who felt the Spirit urge him to seek greater happiness.

B. Growing up, I had the same question

1. Wayward, depressed youth, only thinking about good grades and my next date

2. My Targhee commitment

3. Around 1990, I decided to read the scriptures - even if just a single verse - every day (This changed my life)

4. At each step, I learned that there is the same formula for being happy:

And it came to pass that the Lamanites said unto him: What shall we do, that this cloud of darkness may be removed from overshadowing us?

And Aminadab said unto them: You must repent, and cry unto the voice, even until ye shall have faith in Christ, who was taught unto you by Alma, and Amulek, and Zeezrom; and when ye shall do this, the cloud of darkness shall be removed from overshadowing you. (Helaman 5:40-41)

5. But, like Amulek, I didn’t always want to know. I wanted my immediate pain removed without truly turning to the ultimate source of comfort:

I did harden my heart, for I was called many times and I would not hear; therefore I knew concerning these things, yet I would not know. (Alma 10:6)

C. Hence, it is interesting how Amulek interprets this question, in response to the Zoramite poor:

And we have beheld that the great question which is in your minds is whether the word be in the Son of God, or whether there shall be no Christ.” (Alma 34:5)

1. In our depression, our desperate need for happiness, we’re really asking, “Am I alone in this struggle or is there help?"

2. Over time, I have learned that the answer - Christ - dispels the immediate darkness, as Alma taught his son Shiblon:

And it came to pass that I was three days and three nights in the most bitter pain and anguish of soul; and never, until I did cry out unto the Lord Jesus Christ for mercy, did I receive aremission of my sins. But behold, I did cry unto him and I did find peace to my soul. (Alma 38:8)

3. This is not some vague suggestion to turn to an unknown being but rather to discover our closest ally and friend.

D. Why? Why turn to Christ?

1. As I’ve learned by studying the scriptures daily:

And now, behold, my beloved brethren, I suppose that ye ponder somewhat in your hearts concerning that which ye should do after ye have entered in by the way. But, behold, why do ye ponder these things in your hearts?

Do ye not remember that I said unto you that after ye had received the Holy Ghost ye could speak with the tongue of angels? And now, how could ye speak with the tongue of angels save it were by the Holy Ghost?

Angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, I said unto you, feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do. (2 Nephi 32:1-3)

** This isn’t just a matter of having academic appreciation for what’s right, but rather a deep, spiritual understanding embedded in our hearts as to what we should do

2. And, more than just telling us what to do, the words of Christ give us the power to embrace truth and change:

Behold, he [God] changed their hearts; yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they awoke unto God. Behold, they were in the midst of darkness; nevertheless, their souls were illuminated by the light of the everlasting word…. (Alma 5:7)

3. God holds the power to change us. Our work is to open our hearts - even fractionally - to desire to believe:

And now I ask of you on what conditions are they saved?

Behold, I can tell you-did not my father Alma believe in the words which were delivered by the mouth of Abinadi? And was he not a holy prophet? Did he not speak the words of God, and my father Alma believe them?

And according to his faith there was a mighty change wrought in his heart....

And behold, he preached the word unto your fathers, and a mighty change was also wrought in their hearts, and they humbled themselves and put their trust in the true and living God. (Alma 5:10-13)

When we establish that foundation, nothing can shake us:

And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall. (Helaman 5:12)

E. Why it matters (Happiness)

1. Keeping the commandments makes me happy (Mosiah 2:41)

2. This isn’t surprising, because the commandments teach us to live like our Father in Heaven, the absolute standard for eternal, god-like joy:

I give unto you a new commandment, that you may understand my will concerning you;

Or, in other words, I give unto you directions how you may act before me, that it may turn to you for your salvation. (Doctrine & Covenants 82:8-9) ***

3. Testify that “there is no other way nor means whereby man can be saved, only through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ” (Helaman 5:9).

*** Footnote: This is the great advantage of a church with living prophets: more commandments to help us have more joy, even in the midst of a darkened world (Romans 2:26-3:1)

A New Year...and Chocolate Coconut Macaroon Pie

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Tue, 31 Dec 2013 17:14:00 +0000

As 2013 ends and 2014 nears, I thought I'd share the one pie that I came up with all by myself. Well, that's not true. While I didn't follow any particular recipe, I did rely on others' recipes to help me create my own.

A year or two back I had an exceptional tarte aux noix de coco (coconut tart) in Paris. When I returned to the States, I wanted to bake something similar, but couldn't find a good recipe from which to work. So I made one up using macaroon cookie recipes to figure out how to make the filling, and then guessing a bit to fill in the blanks.

The result is superb, if I may say so.

Rather than keep it to myself, which I find silly, I thought I'd share the recipe here.

Crust

Any pâte sucrée crust should work. (Yes, I know pâte sucrée is generally used for tarts, but I find the distinction between a pie and tart unnecessary.)

1 1/2 cups flour (I prefer unbleached)
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1/8 teaspoon (sea) salt
1 egg yolk
2 heaping tablespoons of whipping cream (By "heaping" I just mean that I err on the side of too much whipping cream, as it makes handling the crust easier, though you don't want too much as it then makes the crust tough)

I also often add unsweetened coconut to the crust (just a small handful), but most people won't have this on hand and shouldn't worry about it.

This is a super easy crust to make, as it doesn't require any rolling out. Simply combine the dry ingredients and the wet ingredients separately, then use a fork to mix the two together until they start to hold together. Use your hand to combine the crust into a somewhat coherent shape, then drop it into the pie plate and use your fingers to mold it.

I usually make the crust the night before and then freeze it (after putting it/pie plate into a large ziploc bag), but you're fine if you don't.

Filling

1 1/2 cups sugar (I use superfine baker's sugar, but you'd be fine with normal granulated sugar, and I sometimes cut sugar to a single cup)
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp (sea) salt
1/2 cup soft unsalted butter (I melt it in the microwave for 40 seconds)
1/4 tsp almond extract
1/4 cup flour (I prefer unbleached)
1/2 cup whipping cream
2 (or even more) cups shredded (sweetened) coconut (Roughly 2/3 of a bag of Bakers coconut - don't go cheap on the coconut - it really does make a difference). Retain the other 1/3 to top the pie)

Directions
Prebake the (somewhat thawed) crust at 400° for ~10 minutes, let it cool a bit, and then "paint it" with melted chocolate (I use a bar of Lindt 70% dark chocolate).

Beat sugar, eggs and salt together. Add butter and flour. Mix it up. Add milk/cream, almond extract, and fold in the coconut. Pour mixture into pie shell. Bake 30 minutes at 350° and then spread the remaining 1/3 coconut (if you used 2/3 of the bag for the filling) onto the top of the pie. Turn down the oven to 325° and bake for another 30 minutes.

It's done when the filling stops jiggling madly when you impatiently push the pie plate. Note, however, that it shouldn't be completely set: the pie will continue to bake even after you remove it from the oven. You shouldn't need more than 60 minutes of baking time. Also, I put a ring of aluminum foil around the pie crust for the full 60 minutes to keep it from getting burned.

Lastly, because so much of the pie experience comes down to first impressions, I melt another bar of Lindt 70% dark chocolate and make shapes/words/whatever on top, as shown above. (You needn't love Sue to love this pie.)

On being openly gay...or openly religious

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 30 Dec 2013 19:36:00 +0000

I'm not gay. But I admire Business Insider's Josh Barro's reasons for being openly gay. To paraphrase Barro, "Being open and unashamed about being [religious] is just one small thing I can do to change the culture and make life easier for people who haven't had my luck."

Barro talks about the obligation to make life easier for those bullied or ostracized for being gay. At least for Barro, as he acknowledges, "his side [is] winning the culture war," being openly gay has never hurt him in his career, etc.

But for those of us who are devoutly religious, the opposite is routinely true. Being gay is kind of cool in our society.

Being religious...is not.

I discovered that at Stanford Law School, whose diverse student body all managed to have the exact same views on virtually every social issue. I feel it every day on Twitter, where my technology peers regularly spout atheist broadsides against religion. It gets old.

So for those two other people on earth who still believe in God, I'm going to make life a bit easier for you. I'm going to be openly religious.

No, I'm not going to throw it in anyone's face, because that's the antithesis of true religion. Real religious fervor shows itself in our service and compassion to others, not in some showy picketing of a Supreme Court ruling or anything like that.

Still, I want people to know that they're not alone in going to church. (Not yet, anyway.) That it's actually easy to believe in both science and religion (because, for me, science is simply a way to explain how God does things). That faith can be an integral part of who someone is, without them being considered an outcast.

In sum, I want people to see that it's very possible to be successful and religious in today's irreligious world.

I work for one of the industry's most disruptive and cool technology companies. I have had a privileged position for over 10 years helping to chart the growth of open-source software, one of the biggest trends in computing.

Oh, and I'm a Mormon. A very devout, very happy Mormon.

P.S. Because I'm a devout Mormon, of course I love my friends, neighbors and co-workers who are gay. I recently had a co-worker suggest that this is because I'm a "liberal Mormon." No, it's because I'm decidedly conservative. There's nothing more old-school Christian than "love thy neighbor." Sometimes we confuse religion with culture. That's a mistake.

A New Year, and lots of reasons to hope

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Mon, 30 Dec 2013 17:03:00 +0000

Yesterday I was fortunate to teach Gospel Doctrine in our ward. Given recent events in my own and others' lives, I wanted to talk about hope.

Here is the outline for my lesson. Hopefully you'll find thoughts/scriptures that will be of use to you.

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And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3)

Why children? Does God not see what they become? The world is filled with evil caused by those who in the blink of an eternal eye were children. Why be like them?

1. God's work and glory
a. Scripture chase: Find all the many instances of God focusing on the bad things we've done (past tense). Stumped? Try to find one.

b. In John 8:3-11 (woman taken in adultery) and Alma 42 (son who left his mission to sleep with a prostitute) we see the opposite.

And now, my son, I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more, and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring you down unto repentance. (Alma 42:29)

b. We are taught to remember. But not to make a fetish of our sins.

1) Who teaches us to focus on our sins, on hiding from God (even hiding until we're "good enough" to go before Him)?

a) Alma 36:12-19 What was the effect of remembering Christ for Alma?

Oh, thought I, that I could be banished and become extinct both soul and body, that I might not be brought to stand in the presence of my God, to be judged of my deeds.

And now, for three days and for three nights was I racked, even with the pains of a damned soul.

And it came to pass that as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.

Now, as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death.

And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more.

And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!

* Throughout the scriptures we learn that relying on our own goodness (or sins) never leads to happiness. Never.

2) We are told to remember His goodness (Mosiah 4:11-12). Why?

And again I say unto you as I have said before, that as ye have come to the knowledge of the glory of God, or if ye have known of his goodness and have tasted of his love, and have received a remission of your sins, which causeth such exceedingly great joy in your souls, even so I would that ye should remember, and always retain in remembrance, the greatness of God, and your own nothingness, and his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures, and humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come, which was spoken by the mouth of the angel.

And behold, I say unto you that if ye do this ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of your sins; and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you, or in the knowledge of that which is just and true.

Doing these things brings the Spirit, which brings hope (Moroni 8:26), but it's more than this. Having the Spirit helps us think with the mind of God, seeing eternal possibilities instead of roadblocks.

a) And what is the result? Mosiah 4:13-19 ("Are we not all beggars?")

3) But how do we break the cycle of self? Of the myopic feeding of our sins?

a) Alma 32:27-28 -> We must first desire God's presence and to change

b) Remember His goodness, not ours, as Nephi did (2 Nep 4:17-20)

But behold, if ye will awake and arouse your faculties, even to an experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words.

Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.

* and IMMEDIATELY (Alma 34:31) God rushes to our aid, upon the merest hint of a desire (Prodigal Son, Nephi and the robe of righteousness)
- Did the father meet his prodigal son halfway? No...

And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. (Luke 15:20)

- His father sprinted to the son, just as our Father anxiously anticipates our merest hint of a desire to do good and change

c) Feed this dependence on God through fasting and prayer (Helaman 3:35)

c. We are commanded to be as little children. God sees us as we are and and as we *can* become. God knows the end and the beginning, but is not an eternal cynic. He is filled with hope, even the "god of hope" (Romans 15:13)

1) Maybe we need to see others the same way. When I look at the children I see their warmth and joy though I also notice their fears and weakness. Let's focus more on the potential.

a) Ammon asked why God didn't destroy them in their wickedness. (Alma 26:17-20) God saw what they could be. It's why we need to focus forward, trusting that others can change. And so can we.

Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God. (Ether 12:4)

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said:

No, it is not without a recognition of life's tempests but fully and directly because of them that I testify of God's love and the Savior's power to calm the storm. Always remember in that biblical story that He was out there on the water also, that He faced the worst of it right along with the newest and youngest and most fearful. Only one who has fought against those ominous waves is justified in telling us--as well as the sea--to "be still." (Mark 4:39; see also D&C 101:16) Only one who has taken the full brunt of such adversity could ever be justified in telling us in such times to "be of good cheer." (John 16:33; D&C 68:6) Such counsel is not a jaunty pep talk about the power of positive thinking, though positive thinking is much needed in the world. No, Christ knows better than all others that the trials of life can be very deep and we are not shallow people if we struggle with them. But even as the Lord avoids sugary rhetoric, He rebukes faithlessness and He deplores pessimism. He expects us to believe!

c) Believe not in ourselves, but in Christ's atoning grace:

And behold, this is the whole meaning of the law, every whit pointing to that great and last sacrifice; and that great and last sacrifice will be the Son of God, yea, infinite and eternal.

And thus he shall bring salvation to all those who shall believe on his name; this being the intent of this last sacrifice, to bring about the bowels of mercy, which overpowereth justice, and bringeth about means unto men that they may have faith unto repentance.

And thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice, and encircles them in the arms of safety... (Alma 34:14-18).

c) We must never lose sight of who we are, and what we are to be.

And it came to pass that Moses looked upon Satan and said: Who art thou? For behold, I am a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten; and where is thy glory, that I should worship thee? (Moses 1:13)

1) How did Moses know he was a son? Because God always addresses us this way. He wants us to remember that in being His child we have infinite potential

For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.

For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father.

The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. (Romans 8:14-17)

Let us be children in this new year. Joyful. Trusting. Good. Filled with hope.

Our creativity deficit disorder

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Fri, 27 Dec 2013 23:10:00 +0000

Maybe it's because we don't read anymore. Maybe we don't know how to imagine things, and instead must have images shoved into our brains. Or maybe, just maybe, today's entertainers simply lack ability and class, and so rely on shock value to carry a point.

I don't know, but I find The Wolf of Wall Street disturbing.

No, I didn't see it. But based on the IMDB parents guide, I won't be seeing it, edited or not. I had read a brief description of some of the content and was surprised to see the movie could hold an R rating. Then I read the IMDB blow-by-blow, and I'm shocked. Even in the somewhat shabby world in which I grew up, the movie's sexual content would have easily scored an X.

Not any longer.

As much as I'm discouraged by the obvious slide in morality, I'm perhaps even more dismayed by just how limited our creativity has become. Clearly the director, Martin Scorsese, felt that he had to go over-the-top to deliver his message (whatever that is).

For me it's not a question as to whether the scenes depicted in the movie are true to life. That's beside the point. Rather, I wonder that he felt he had to show the "truth" in such lurid detail. Do we lack the imagination to be able to fill in the blanks?

It's not just a matter of sex, either. My son, Isaac, talking about the latest Superman movie, bemoaned how "boring" it was because it was "non-stop smashing things and fighting." For a 14-year old boy to complain about a superhero movie saturated with meaningless violence, it suggests to me that we've lost our way, precisely because we've forgotten how to hint; how to suggest.

Entertainment today often fails to entertain because it takes upon itself the burden of showing every single thing that could happen. Rather than letting the audience use its imagination, the images are graphic and constant, lest we miss the fact that SEX IS HAPPENING or VIOLENCE IS REAL.

It's dull. It shows a lack of talent on the filmmaker's part and suggests a lack of creativity on the audience's part. It's why I've largely given up on movies.

Choosing to be happy

noreply@blogger.com (Matt Asay) — Thu, 12 Dec 2013 08:10:00 +0000

During my undergraduate years at BYU, one of my professors assigned Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, which made a deep impression on me. Frankl lived through a horrific experience in a Nazi concentration camp, yet in the midst of the seemingly bottomless despair of his situation, he learned that happiness (or misery) is a choice.

As he writes:

Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.

I've pondered this numerous times in the nearly 20 years since I first read the book. Through my own stupid decisions or others' unwise actions, I have suffered, and sometimes bitterly. Yet I've discovered Frankl's truth: I can choose to be happy, even in terrible circumstances. I can choose to be light.

I was asked to teach Gospel Doctrine (adult Sunday School) in our ward later this month, and I determined to talk about this principle in the context of unshackling ourselves from things that make us unhappy. In preparing for my lesson, I turned to one of my favorite thinkers, President Dieter Uchtdorf (one of the leaders in my church). In April he offered beautiful insight to those that feel burdened by darkness:

There may be some among you who feel darkness encroaching upon you. You may feel burdened by worry, fear, or doubt. To you and to all of us, I repeat a wonderful and certain truth: God’s light is real. It is available to all! It gives life to all things. It has the power to soften the sting of the deepest wound. It can be a healing balm for the loneliness and sickness of our souls. In the furrows of despair, it can plant the seeds of a brighter hope. It can enlighten the deepest valleys of sorrow. It can illuminate the path before us and lead us through the darkest night into the promise of a new dawn.

This is “the Spirit of Jesus Christ,” which gives “light to every man that cometh into the world.”

Nevertheless, spiritual light rarely comes to those who merely sit in darkness waiting for someone to flip a switch. It takes an act of faith to open our eyes to the Light of Christ.

Again, that need to choose to see clearly. It's a true principle, whatever one's religion (or lack thereof).

But for me, religion is essential, for it is my religion that provides a 'why' to my existence, helping me better understand why life can be so brutally hard, and yet still be so filled with joy. As Frankl also posits, "Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'." Because the "why" helps us see beyond the immediate trouble to find deeper purpose, and choose to be filled with light.

I believe this. No, I know it. And that is why I am happy. If you'd like to watch President Uchtdorf's talk, it's here: