I didn’t really want to go on this trip. August, I said, would be far better; I would be fluent in Spanish, know the region well, and comfortable travelling around. When it didn’t pan out, I briefly thought of cancelling the whole thing and taking the month to study independently at home. But I quickly realized that there was no way I could let myself off the hook that easily, so off it was. Besides, I was itching to start over in a new place after a difficult semester, and since when did I turn down an opportunity like this? Once that was decided, I went for it head first, throwing out all expectations, planning, and terrified reactions from a few friends. January became a black hole in my mental calendar, and the edge of the now-inevitable cliff was fast approaching.
I remember flying into Buenos Aires the first day. It was New Years, the plane was on the descent, and I can remember very pointedly one moment when I looked down, saw the land, and thought to myself that everything would just fine, no matter what. If the plane crashed in a fireball, I was OK with that. I would have felt fine with it all, the way everything had went in life up to that point. I was calm, relaxed, and comfortable letting everything go. That was a totally new feeling for me, usually the control-heavy, forward looking driver who couldn’t wait for the future to get here. Maybe it was the fact that I now had no idea what the future held, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time, I was truly alone. I think that moment, before I had even arrived, was the most significant thing that has happened on this trip.
That feeling of ‘everything will be alright’ continued throughout the month. When the airport shuttle dropped me off in the middle of the city, I was lost and unsure what to do, but I felt that I would get through it just fine. When I missed my flight out of Rio Gallegos with nowhere to go, a bunch of luggage, frustration, and no idea what to do, I felt I would be alright. Now, when I jump off a bus somewhere in a new city, I’m not even anxious at all anymore.
I used to describe a bug that lived in my gut that made me a little anxious at all times. Whatever I was doing, wherever I was, it wasn’t quite good enough. It was truly a love-hate thing. I hated the fact that I could never relax and enjoy a moment, but I loved the fact that it made me always work to improve. Basically, it’s the engine that produces both success and misery in high-gear type A people, and I had a bad case of it. I wasn’t sure if it would ever go away, if after attaining a certain level of success the bug would be satisfied. I was pretty sure the answer is no, and in some ways I was alright with that. But in the end, theoretically I did want to have a life at some point.
I’d like to think that this trip, and some deliberate work, has helped me move just a little closer to the Holy Grail, a kind of best-of-both-worlds. I still want to move on and improve, badly. I’m in the middle of reading The Practice of Management so I can learn how to run an organization. I also learned how hedge funds work, how small organizations can use junk debt or performance bonds to grow, and a little bit more about stock picking, all while travelling. But at the same time, taking time to enjoy things, talk to people and relax sounds great too.
It sounds obvious, but logic can only change what you do, not who you are. Only experiences can do that. For me, coming to Argentina was the experience of turning out the lights, blowing out the candles and feeling around in the dark to finally begin seeing what, perhaps, was there all along.
No comments:
Post a Comment