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Every two weeks, I share reflections and curated links on meaningful work, living intentionally, and other topics that interest me.

A quick note: For compliance reasons, Beyond the Cove will no longer include investment views, mine or anyone else's, or curated links to other content. And as always, nothing here should be considered an investment recommendation.

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First Day Feeling

Five days before I start my new job, I'm sitting by a pool at a Mexican resort, trying to relax.

It isn't working.

We're on vacation, but my start date is close enough to feel. It's definitely not dread. Something closer to a low current of anticipation that won't let me be. The body wants to move. The mind keeps running through what may lie ahead.

One of the books I brought along was Gates of Fire, Steven Pressfield's historical novel about the Spartans and the Battle of Thermopylae. I've been meaning to read it for months, and I finally had some time.

But I had no idea that it'd be the right book for the moment.

Somewhere toward the end, I came across this passage:

"Keep your men busy. If there is no work, make it up, for when soldiers have time to talk, their talk turns to fear. Action, on the other hand, produces the appetite for more action."

This was King Leonidas, the night before the battle.

I read it twice. Then I put the book down and stared at the water for a while.

Some things land differently when the timing is right.

The day before day one.

I met C, a former colleague, over Zoom. C was someone who'd held COO and CAO roles at several investment firms over his long career. He's smart, grounded, and someone I'd always respected.

I'd reached out a few weeks earlier to reconnect and ask for his advice about navigating the early days in a similar role. He delivered.

Early in our chat, C shared a concept called Chesterton's Fence.

The idea is simple: before you remove a fence, you need to understand why it was built. Someone put it there for a reason. Maybe that reason no longer applies. Maybe it applies more than ever. But you don't get to know without asking.

But what stuck with me even more was a memory. Years earlier, when C first joined our firm, he made a point of scheduling time with everyone in the investment division.

After a brief intro, he said four words: How can I help?

No setup. No positioning. No agenda. Just that.

At this point in my career, I've seen enough of these situations to know how they usually go. People arrive wanting to share what they know, offer their perspective, and tell you what worked for them. That's not nothing. But it's different from someone who walks in, sets all of that aside, and just asks.

That memory helped me set the tone I want to carry into my new role. Be useful. Show up ready to remove friction, not create it. But pair it with the patience to listen first. Understand why the fence is there before you touch it.

It's the morning of.

First day.

I'm walking to the office from the Park Street Green Line station. AirPods in, volume up. I open Spotify and listen to Eminem's Lose Yourself. The original, from 8 Mile. The one that gets the adrenaline firing even twenty-some years later.

And then it rolls into Kendrick Lamar's TV Off.

My pace picks up. My heart rate follows.

For a few blocks, I feel like I'm twenty-six again.

The route is familiar. I've walked it hundreds of times, decades ago, through Downtown Crossing. The turns are the same turns. But this time the role is different. And I'm different.

Somewhere between those two facts, something clicks.

Slowly, my serious work face turns into a smile. Not the polite kind. The kind that takes over before you can stop it. Almost uncontrollable.

A man in his fifties, walking through downtown Boston, grinning.

It's almost embarrassing, but I don't fight it.

I've talked myself out of moments like this before. I kept my expectations measured. Didn't let myself feel too much. It's a good way to protect yourself.

But sometimes a song comes on at the right moment, and your body knows something before your brain catches up. The restlessness by the pool, the coffee conversation, the walk through a city that feels like coming back.

It all lands at once.

This feels right.

And I let myself believe it.

And a Farewell Photo...