On my second day in Mexico, I went spearfishing with my friend and freediving instructor Oscar and his two friends Eber and Victor. It was a long session, with choppy waters and a strong current. There were not a lot of fish to hunt, and after a few hours of swimming aimlessly I started feeling nauseous so I decided to head back to dry land a bit early. It was a long swim back to shore, and an even longer walk to where Victor’s truck was parked. The discomfort of wearing a wetsuit was emphasized by the thick humidity, though treading barefoot through an abundance of sharp rocks and trash piles at the water’s edge proved to be an effective distraction from the increasing stickiness I felt under the neoprene skin. Back at the truck, after I peeled off the wetsuit and dried myself off, I opened up the tailgate of the bed and made myself comfortable for a quick siesta. 

Victor was the first to return, and at his suggestion, he and I took a quick walk down the beach in search of coconuts to snack on. A few failed attempts at knocking one out of a nearby tree with a pole scavenged from the bushes inspired me to walk a few yards further, where I found a tree that had a cluster hanging low enough to reach up and harvest with much less effort. We cracked those fuckers open on rocks by the truck, drank their water, and feasted on their flesh until everyone was back and ready to hit the road. In transit, Victor’s truck was spat on by a disgruntled dual sport rider who nearly broadsided us while we were in the middle of a three-point turn, but this act of aggression didn’t garner so much as a comment from anyone in the truck- our focus was up the street, where a hole-in-the-wall carnitas shop awaited. Maciza, buche, and cueritos (all different cuts of the pig) were served in heaping piles atop piping hot corn tortillas with freshly sliced limes, onions and cilantro. No taco was left behind. A few minutes later, we said our goodbyes and I returned to my apartment, where a much needed shower and a fresh set of clothing not soaked by coconut water gave me new life and energy with which I was unsure of what to do.

As someone who has created an art form out of squandering excess amounts of free time, one of the most important things to me as I enter a new chapter abroad is to fill my time with experiences and activities that enrich my existence on this planet. Exploring unfamiliar areas, learning new skills, and absorbing the culture and people around me are all good examples of activities that always leave me full of love and excitement. Browsing Instagram from the comfort of an air-conditioned apartment room while in a new city, as I found myself doing for a few hours yesterday evening, does the opposite and is a symptom of a greater ailment within me.

Rather than benefiting from the networking potential and endless inspiration from other humans who use social media to share the beautiful things they create, I open the app with a complete lack of mindfulness and intention. It becomes a mindless distraction, a vessel of bullshit allowing my mind to shuffle through an endless supply of images- oh look! Some interesting tattoos, a few beautiful redheads, workout reels from shredded fitness instructors, adrenaline junkies skydiving and base jumping. As my poor eyeballs try to follow the onslaught of pictures and videos, the subdued consciousness within me marinates in the daunting uncertainty of what I’m doing with my life, and what the FUCK I’m supposed to be doing right now in this very moment: brand new in a foreign place, without a routine or a playbook of my own to go off of, and no idea where to start. The anxiety is tangible, and I have to wonder if the knot in my stomach would still be there if I was the one doing cool shit instead of watching it on my phone.  

This pattern is one I have fallen into at many points throughout my life. When things are uncertain or uncomfortable, it’s easy to choose the distraction over the solution. To be distracted is to escape, even if just for a few moments. Some of life’s lessons resonate immediately and do not need to be learned twice; others need to be drilled into us through repetition of the same mistakes dressed in slightly different disguises. Many times I have chosen the distraction, and many times I have found myself deeply unhappy, desperate for change, yet reluctant to eliminate the behavior that causes the unhappiness- unwilling to habituate the behavior that leads to a better life, a better headspace, and feelings of fulfillment at the end of each day. Fortunately, there is a silver lining here: I’ve gone through it so many times, I now can recognize my escapist behavior and make the conscious choice to snap out of it and choose something that will help me move towards the version of myself that I can happily live with. The discomfort, the anxiety, these feelings of loneliness and undesirability are all strengthened by inactivity, and the familiarity of these feelings helps to serve as a red flag in my psyche, signaling that it’s time to move forward.

The discomfort may linger, and the need for fulfillment, purpose, or some kind of plan will not simply dissolve upon the relinquishing of the distraction. I believe that it is in the acceptance of that discomfort that we find relief, and with the discipline to consistently choose something that we know is better for us in those moments, we can overwrite those old patterns and form new, healthier ones that will lead us to a more mindful state of being and a happier existence.

In an attempt to practice exactly that, instead of ruminating on the fact that I had no clue of what to do with the rest of my day after returning from lunch, I put my phone down, opened up my laptop, and began writing this. As the words flowed, the unease produced by the absence of an explicit to-do list slowly faded from the spotlight of attention and was replaced by energy that inevitably accompanies creation of any kind. I wrote for a bit, then hopped on my bicycle and rode around town in the rain, soaking up the water and the culture all around me, allowing myself to observe and be fully present. I felt like a new man.