The Wonder of MisfitCon 2015

The chairs sat empty on MisfitCon’s last night, as did the gin bottles and mason jars. The music that beat the walls for 5 straight days fell quiet. The last of us, only a handful, huddled close together against Ecce’s second-floor window, ready to challenge the night. Swimming in our thoughts, we reflected the time we had—joy and awakening curling our tired lips into smiles. I was present the moment the sun broke the dawn and AJ recited for us our song:

“This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered- we few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition; and gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.”

I was present. From the same bottle we drank with pride, and the sun rose, blazing against the sky a pink-orange fury that burned away night shade, illuminating sleepy Fargo to life. That moment—that sunrise, was ours; made to live in our memories never to happen again. At MisfitCon 2015, were you present?

Alchemy set the tone for one of the most curated and inspiring conferences in the world. A conference preaching the gospel of possibilities, every detail aimed at demonstrating how everything and everyone can become a masterpiece.

11312548_1583884578539845_1677875132_nTo be true, I am writing this piece to recap for those not present, but, friend, there are things I wish to tell you that you may never truly understand. Like, remember that fucking treehouse? Or, the middle school hallway where a dude stuck a wicked b-boy handstand while nearby another dude freestyled verses about freshly made crepes? How about that Irish chap who told a story that brought you to tears or when you heard Shakespeare fired like a machine gun blowing away everything you believed about the old world? A global leader in worldwide sustainability read you poetry. You found your god-given name carved in wood, hand-painted on a wall, and graffitied on a school locker. Remember when you tried to break the hammock swaying world record? You learned about failure, about loss, about tragedy, and about how those things could be transformed into lesson and light and armored fortitude. You danced. You sang. In the end, you felt the irresistible, electric power of true inspiration. If you weren’t at MisfitCon 2015, you may not understand what I am talking about, but I was present.

I was there to learn the secret of Milford Haven. I was there to wear a wooden hat. I was there to see how a perfectly timed hug could change the course of whole lives astray. MisfitCon is not a conference at all, but a reunion of spirits akin, seeing each other as lights en route to their greatest potential. I was present. And like the sunrise that we challenged our last night to behold, those great wonders will never be as they were again. Ever.

But, I. Was. Present.

Featured photo credit to the talented Mr. Scott Walker. See the full photo set: Here

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I am often asked what I do for a living; the simple answer is, I make stuff. I make stuff with my bare hands, with code, with colors, with words. I aid in making the people around me realize their optimum selves. I make my mother proud. I try to make my kids happy and encourage them to contribute more than they consume. I make sure self comes first. I make money. I make my own luck. I make a pretty solid french toast. And I do all that I can everyday to make the world better than it was yesterday.

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