Never Cage a Butterfly

I was never one to stick with New Year’s resolutions. They play out the same every year: a motivating boost of energy which fades away like the tip of an eraser in early January, correcting the continuous mistakes of writing the previous year on paper. Interestingly enough, that is a perfect example of making or breaking a habit: using the same four numbers over and over to signify at what point we exist in time and then, all of a sudden, the year changes. The four-number sequence that you knew as the present is now a part of the past, so you break a year-long habit of writing “2020”, and start fresh writing “2021”.

If only personal habits were that easy to work with.

2020 was a both a year of developing good habits, but also continuing the bad ones. The most consistent, unfortunately, being the latter: smoking, drinking, internet, drugs, binge-watching television, and practically anything else that was instantly gratifying. During a time when the world was on fire, both literally and figuratively, I simply dealt with the stress by doing anything that gave me a buzz within a moment’s notice. You see, these negative tendencies had been with me for years, but they each hit their own individual peaks in 2020. On the outside, you wouldn’t notice that these habits affected me, but I like to compare addiction to an apple with a worm on the inside of it: externally, it may seem healthy, but it would be a different story if you looked at it with an x-ray machine. Over time, the apple will rot from the inside out.

This thought came to me on a Friday night during a party in mid-December, not surprisingly while on drugs. I fell into a rabbit hole of self-reflection, which ultimately led to me realizing what I was doing to myself. I was quickly overwhelmed and made my way into the bathroom where I then began a staring contest with myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized the person standing opposite of me in the glass. These habits which I cultivated over the years had eaten away at certain parts of my life: my health, my creativity, my confidence, and my drive to follow my dreams.

There's that saying of “the eyes are the windows to the soul,” which I assumed meant looking into the pupils of others. This was the first time gazing into my own, and in doing so, a piece of myself which had been asleep for years came to the surface and blindsided me.

To go a little deeper: I’m 23 years old, turning 24 in 2 days as I write this, and feel as though I’ve done more on this Earth than the majority of the global population: I’ve lived in five states within the US and three different countries, I know three languages, I rode a bicycle from San Francisco to Washington D.C. to raise money and awareness for people with disabilities, I ran a marathon with no training, I’ve done service projects in third world countries, I won national awards for artistry and painting, I performed concerts at multiple venues as a DJ, and the list continues.

I’m blessed and grateful that I have had these experiences, but it’s unwise and unhealthy to live in the past because in doing so, one gets lost in the present. Looking back, I realize that the genuine, caring, and daring part of myself was signed away as soon as I entered into the ‘real world’ after graduating college to survive in a money-motivated society. Different priorities took over my life. I started working a full-time job that I didn’t enjoy so that I could pay for groceries, rent, a car, insurance, a phone, and a long list of other expenses which most people are familiar with. Meanwhile, my dreams and aspirations were collecting dust like the self-transformation books on my nightstand. I may have been positive on the surface, but subconsciously I was unhappy. So how did I cope with the thought of me not living up to my fullest potential? I numbed myself with narcotics, smoke in the lungs, beer in the belly, surfing the internet, and ignoring my intuition.

That was the man standing in the mirror. I could see it in his facial expression; the heavy bags weighing down his eyes. I could see it in the way that he carried himself, as if gravity’s pull was strongest on the tip of his spine. I saw a man who found contentment in an unfulfilling life. A man who had dreams, and the skills to conquer those dreams, but did not have the energy to pursue them.

The universe is omnipresent, but it must have been listening to my silence a little more than usual in that moment. A song began to play in the other room. My attention switched from my self-battering to the melody of the music, which included a quote by Alan Watts where he says:

“If you say that getting the money is the most important thing, you'll spend your life completely wasting your time. You'll be doing things you don't like doing in order to go on living, that is to go on doing things you don't like doing, which is stupid. Better to have a short life that is full of what you like doing, than a long life spent in a miserable way.”

~ Queue the groovy trumpets ~ *(Song: Priorities by OHD)

Life constantly sends you signs. Sometimes they’re right in your face, but most of the time they are subtle and can be easily missed, like foreshadowing in a book or a movie. The more conscious you are, the more you notice these signs. This one was right in my face. Through music, the universe told me exactly what I needed to hear, and I couldn’t help but smile during that moment of despair. I felt a change in my energy, as if my artistic, adventurous, groovy, and loving self was making its return in full force. I felt different, I felt love. Although I wasn’t happy with who I had turned into, I embraced myself. I accepted where I was and decided to take action towards where I wanted to be. This was a different feeling from a New Year’s resolution. This was a clean slate, a fresh start on life.

I danced in the bathroom hugging myself and feeling my heart beat over and over, as tears of relief streamed down my face. I had forgotten to love myself, and it felt amazing to be my own sense of comfort again. That was my moment of inertia, of positive momentum, and it was beautiful. I forgave myself for falling into this emotional cage, and found a sense of peace in my heart. After what felt like a half hour in the bathroom, I gathered myself, said goodbye to my friends, and went home. I spent the rest of the night locked in my room writing my thoughts and intentions down while listening to American Beauty by the Grateful Dead, of course, on Vinyl. That night was the beginning of a new life.

Leading up to the holidays, I had been processing this inner shift in energy. I knew that I had to strategically tackle each bad habit on its own, because focusing on all of them at once would be almost impossible. I decided to start with my nicotine addiction because that had been bothering me most for the longest and I also have terrible genes when it comes to smoking.

My dad hates smoking. Both his mother and sister passed away from lung cancer. It’s one of the few things that pinches his heart when he finds out if anyone close to him smokes. He recently found out that three of his four children smoke, primarily vaping, but he never brought it up until this holiday season. My dad has been in finance and sales for all of his adult life, he knows how to persuade people to make decisions. In his business-oriented mind he came up with a simple plan: if anyone wanted to receive a holiday gift from him, they would have to stop smoking.

Perfect timing.

I went a step further and told him about the recent experience I had. After chatting for some time, I looked him in the eyes, and promised that I was done with nicotine and tobacco, and really meant it. I’ve tried quitting before, but the power of saying no to myself had always been weaker than the craving for a buzz, until now. Promising someone whom you love and respect makes it that much easier to say no to oneself. Writing this now, I’m proud to say that it’s been 45 days since having any nicotine, the longest I’ve gone in six years.

After the holidays my motivation came back in full force; I was active again. I started to run six, seven, eight mile runs, knowing that I could go further. I was spending less time indulging in my bad habits and more time doing things that I love: reading, writing, meditating, learning instruments, creating, and living a healthier life. This was a great start, but there was still something that bothered me: I’m still trapped, living in this constant cycle of wake up, go to work, go home, eat, sleep, repeat.

My work environment is interesting to say the least. The office is a house in a suburban neighborhood and there are a whopping six employees. There is never music playing, and the energy of the house is similar to being home alone at 2:00 AM. That’s because my boss is a short-tempered hothead who yells and screams at just about everything. I’m not exaggerating when I say the man is the epitome of negative energy. It’s a real estate firm, but feels like a very distant, passive-aggressive family where nobody gets along yet everybody chooses to stay and put up with these temper tantrums because it pays the bills. That’s the only reason why I’m working 45 hours a week here: I just moved to California in August and my bills won’t pay themselves, so here we are.

Where I live is its own situation. My roommates are all smokers, night owls, and when it comes to health and wellness, I am now on a completely different wavelength. The quote: “you’re a product of your environment” worried me at first, because as I watched my roommates drink, smoke, and sniff a mixture of different powders and substances on a Sunday, for the fifth night in a row, I realized two things: 1) I’ve outgrown where I live and where I work, therefore 2) I had to plan an escape. That’s when the idea came to me: An Ironman.

Notoriously known as one of the hardest triathlon races in the world: a 2.4-mile swim, followed by a 112-mile bike ride, and finally a 26.2 mile run to finish. When I ran a marathon with no training two years prior, my body hated me afterwards. I knew that by signing up, I would have to commit to a training schedule and force myself to make good decisions if I wanted to do such a race. As my roommates drifted away from sobriety and watched Sunday turn into Monday, I was floating in my dreams, imagining what it would feel like crossing the finish line of an Ironman race. I woke up the next morning with a pounding feeling of determination in my head, rather than a hangover. I grabbed my laptop and searched for races that had open registrations.

I couldn't find any in the United States that were available, so I moved over to Australia. Sold out. Asia, booked. South America, also booked. I was becoming discouraged until I moved over to Europe. The bigger cities were unavailable, and then I saw an opening in Tallinn, Estonia: a quaint little city in between the Baltic Sea and Russia. It reminded me of Sevilla, Spain, the city where I lived with a host family for six months. I took that as a good sign.

I looked at flights to see if my bank account would be suffering any more than it had to, and it was during that moment that my escape idea went to a whole new level. I found a flight for $300 from Los Angeles to Tallinn for August 2nd. I signed up for the Ironman race, and I booked my flight. The only thing is: I bought a one-way ticket.

As I looked at Google Maps to see where Tallinn, Estonia was, I reminisced on the memories that I made during my times in Europe. I missed it, I missed my friends there, and I missed the culture. Being the curious kid that I am, I calculated the distance from Tallinn to Sevilla. 2,400 miles, about 1,300 miles less than my bicycle trip across the US. The gears in my head were turning. It sounds psychotic but my idea was, and still is, to bike across Europe from Estonia to Spain. This is when the butterflies really started to stir in my stomach. Unlike my trip across America, which was guided and through a program, this will be a solo trip, traveling through close to 15 countries, all of which English is not the primary language.

Rad? Yes.

Dangerous? Probably.

Crazy? Definitely.

So, you’re caught up to the present, today is February 2nd, 2021. What have I been doing with all of those bad habits for the past few weeks? I’m no longer smoking, I’ve created a reward system where I can only have a drink if I’ve checked off everything on my to-do list for the day, and I’ve deleted social media. That addictive energy is still there, but instead of caving in, I’m transmuting that energy to positive activities: I run over 20 miles per week, I bought a road bike and a wetsuit which arrive the first week of February. I’ve written out my 6-month training schedule to keep me on track. I play more guitar and piano than I ever have in my life, and plan on releasing my first music album in August before my adventure (sneak peak, one of my favorites is called ‘Cocoon’). I go to bed early, I wake up early, and I say no to the long nights of partying for no reason. I meditate daily, I’m writing my goals and my dreams down constantly throughout the day, and those books on my nightstand are getting highlighted with folded pages and finished.

I just got back from my lunch break literally an hour ago (2/2/21 at 2:10pm), where I went to a garden with a beautiful view of the ocean to read “The Wim Hof Method.” In chapter 2, Wim describes an experience that him and his twin brother had while biking from the Netherlands to Spain, and how he began to find his purpose. I set the book down and smiled, knowing that this is the universe telling me I’m headed in the right direction.

Looking forward, the road ahead will be a challenging one. I’ve already felt the initial discomfort from my friends when telling them my plans. My family and closest friends know my sense of adventure, so when they hear the excitement in my voice, they support me, which is all I need. From the others who don’t understand, let me say that no person has ever made a difference by fitting in. I know that I’m on the right track. I’m letting go and letting life play itself out, trusting my intuition in the process.

It’s natural for a caterpillar to go through metamorphosis. The process is most likely uncomfortable, as change usually is, but necessary. While inside its cocoon, the butterfly patiently waits until its surroundings deconstruct themselves, then it begins a new life in the air. I’m ready to fly, but patience is the key. My cocoon is my current situation in life, and I will embrace my time in it because I know that it’s temporary. The next six months will be used to continue creating habits that positively affect my mind, body, and soul. In doing so I will build onto this snowball of momentum, which has taken me so far since that moment in the mirror. I know in my heart and soul that it will take me past the finish line of this Ironman race, all the way to Spain, and to new heights that are far beyond my imagination.

So cheers my friends to fresh starts and to your own resolutions, but only if you’ve earned it!