"We Just Need to Clone Matt"

It's that time again! This one's slow to start, but it pays off — stick with it. Last time I wrote about starting the job and the imposter syndrome that came with it. Well, I have updates.

We've been looking to hire another automation engineer for our department. We had a guy in the pipeline — interview six of like a thousand, it's a long process — and he didn't pass the culture fit interview. When my boss and our CIO told me they weren't hiring him, they both said the same thing:

"Really, we just need to clone Matt."

Can you believe it? I don't think I could've gotten a better compliment. And that's when it hit me: all those things I'd been feeling — less than, stupid, behind, I'll never be able to do this — none of them were real. That voice is why I dropped out of engineering school in my twenties. The difference now? I have the tools to deal with it.

And it got me thinking — maybe there is something worth cloning here. Not another Matt Raynor, that's for sure. But the recipe — change your inner world and your outer world follows — that's worth sharing. It may not be original, but living it certainly is. More on that later.

Back to the update. After that compliment — and being assured multiple times that my paranoias were ill-placed — the stress that kept me up at night has settled. I can take meetings outside by the flowers, under the sun. And even better: I'm into the work. I love it, like in the past — but with one difference. In the nursing home, I'd find a project to make time go by, and I wouldn't have to be there mentally. Now I get the same joy — plus a life to enjoy along with it.

I'm No Exception

I used to look up to people who spoke multiple languages and were professionals like it was an impossible thing. How did they fucking do that? Well — today I speak Spanish, and I'm a professional.

So how did I get here? Four years ago, in that nursing home bed, I decided to stop giving up on myself. I got off the 7,000 narcotics I was on — they'll feed you that stuff until you die — and I decided to reframe my reality. Surviving the accident was a second chance. A blessing. Even the nursing home could be one. So how could I make it one?

I started showing up for myself even when I didn't want to. Especially when I didn't want to. And those were difficult days by any measure — I ran into serious health problems I don't need to rehash, but I was pretty much starving and sleepless for eight months. I thought I was losing my tether to reality. But it transformed me. That's when things really changed. That's when I really changed — profoundly. I found my meditation practice. I could wake up every day and generate awe, reverence, appreciation, and gratitude for this beautiful universe I live in. I cemented my belief in my higher power. And I learned you don't need anything outside of yourself to feel good. All you need to do is focus on making your internal world better and believe in the good — believe in beauty, love, kindness — and believe things can change for the better if you do.

I remember saying this to myself every day back then, when things were tough and I didn't think it — no, I didn't even believe it back then: I'm building a movable spiritual framework I can bring with me wherever I go, to overcome all of life's obstacles. This is not time wasted — this is time well spent. I see this moment. I will make it matter.

And that's the biggest part of the recipe. But there are things that go along with it: breathing exercises, guided meditation, chanting, a Wim Hof-style breathwork session — which is really transformative. Nobody wants to hear about it, but if you ask me, I will tell you about it. The breath and vibrations combined with positive affirmations — it's a game changer.

Another part of the recipe is what you think about during the meditation:

What can I do right now — despite how I'm feeling — that I'll thank myself for in the future?

And the last part is remembering this: we're constantly stolen from the present by a future that'll never happen, or a past that has no relevance to us anymore. But there is no moment other than this one. And if you can make this moment beautiful, it's literally impossible not to have a beautiful future. It doesn't make sense otherwise. Physics will not allow it.

If I can get somewhere from a wheelchair with 80% of my sensation and movement gone, think about what you can do. You can absolutely, 100% do it. I'm the proof. And I'm no exception.

The Ask

So no — the world doesn't need a clone of me. But I'd love for people to be able to clone what I did: change the inside, watch the outside follow. Now that I've hit my goals — at least the base-level ones — I want to share this recipe on a larger scale, for anyone facing challenges physical or mental: addiction, anxiety, depression, any of it.

So I'm looking to do that! And if you have an idea of how, I'd like to know. And yeah — it has to be beyond what Claude and I would cook up on our own.

Drop a comment or reply to this email. You know I'll keep showing up. Just point me at the next thing.