Field Note No. 3
Before I ever chased FIRE, I chased fire.
I mean that literally. Growing up, I was known as Pyro Mike. Between the ages of 6 and 15, I nearly burned my house down three times. I would disassemble fireworks just to understand the chemistry inside them. There was something about fire that felt exciting, uncertain, and powerful all at once, and I could not leave it alone.
When it came time to plan for college, I sat down with my high school counselor and asked a sincere question. How does someone get a job in special effects or pyrotechnics?
She gave me a blank stare. She wished she could help, she said. She had no clue.
So I did what most of us do with our strangest dreams. I left it on the table and enrolled in a traditional university.
Twenty years later, I achieved FIRE. The acronym this time. Financial independence, retire early.
Somewhere in the universe, Pyro Mike was laughing.
Last time, I told you about my first Monday of freedom, when my thumb kept reaching for emails that no longer existed. Eventually that restlessness settled into something better. I went all in on being a dad. Park days, beach explorations, mini Costco runs. A routine I could count on.
But late at night, a quieter question kept surfacing in my journal. Is this as good as it gets?
Here is the tricky part. Some of my busyness back then was running. Motion for the sake of motion, an engine revving with no road. The searching was different. It came from within, and it asked for something specific: keep growing. So I read more. I studied. And then one night I remembered an itch I had been carrying since I was 8 years old.
What if I had actually chased the fire?
I found a special effects class in Florida, taught by an industry veteran who had worked in the movies and built effects for theme parks like Universal. For a week, I got to be Pyro Mike again, except this time with supervision and a waiver.
He taught us practical effects. He walked us through his workshop, full of contraptions built from compressed air and pyrotechnics. We rigged squibs with fake blood, the little charges that make gunshots look real on screen.
And at the end, we blew up an old Camry.
Standing there watching that car go up, I finally got my answer to a question I had carried for thirty years. Yes, it would have been a fun job. It also came with a mountain of manual labor that, if I am honest, I would not have loved. For the first time, I was not wondering about the road not taken. I had walked a mile down it, and I came back appreciating the path I actually chose. Not as a consolation prize. As a choice I would make again.
Here is what that week taught me about the difference between escaping and exploring.
Escaping is motion away from discomfort. It gives you relief, and the relief expires by the next morning. Exploring is motion toward a question. It gives you answers, and answers are permanent. Even a no is a gift, because a “what if” you never test never leaves you alone.
I used to think financial freedom was about buying leisure. I was wrong. Its real gift is that it lets you run experiments on your own curiosity. Most people carry their childhood dreams to the grave untested. I got to take mine out, light the fuse, and watch it go up in the best possible way.
So here is my question for you. What is your Pyro Mike? The dream you left on some counselor’s desk years ago? And what is the smallest, safest version of it you could test this year?
Hit reply or leave a comment. I read every one.
Now go build a life that earns those two words.
Well played,
Michael
P.S. Freedom isn’t the finish line. It’s how you play the game.