I recently made a decision to abandon a comfort zone that had existed for close to two and a half years.  My job had a loose guarantee of two set days off, a certain amount of money each week - nothing to scoff at - and a staff that I for the most part, enjoyed.  I could meet the requirements in my sleep, shit, I could meet the requirements half drunk with a mind that was spoiled with bitterness.  When I had been hired, I realized automatically that I could run shit.  A few days into training, I was already doing better than my trainers.  Granted, that isn't hard when your trainer abandons you to center herself with mother earth in the walk-in because the shift was too stressful.  I digress.  The point is, I had ideals that were assigned to me, and I strived.  Every time I was met with doubt, I put my head down and said "fuck you."  I learned, grew, and influenced.  A holy trinity of personal evolution.  I needed new shit to hate.

I decided late one night to order a wristband that acted as a symbol for this subtle shift in consciousness.  Just to be safe, I ordered five of them.  Plus a hat.

Its a simple black wristband.  The kind that are handed out at promotional gatherings for Corona.  One side has written #Piratelife and Caveman Coffee Co.  I wanted it to bolster my confidence at a time of upheaval.  To give a little background, Tait Fletcher is a former MMA fighter, cross-fit advocate and current stuntman / nitrogenized-coffee mogul.  He became romanticized with recent discoveries of healthy fats and their effects on the body and exercises.  Tait essentially, to shorten a long story, partnered up with individuals and created a brand of coffee and cross-fit related products that are geared toward people recognizing their maximum potentials while being rebellious as fuck.  Pirate shit.  Who knew healthy fats could be in the same sentence as the latter.  There could be no better a role model than a man who has gone through adversity and is carving out a niche for himself based off of mistakes & redirections.  Cocaine meets coconut oil, essentially.  Broseph has a skrong-ass beard game to match.

Let's get down to the brass tacks though.  Life is hard, and our natural state is bitch-like.  Effort doesn't come effortlessly.  People love to take the path of least resistance because biologically, we are in a constant struggle for conservation.  I may have told myself that this is the summer that I'll finally work out and get into shape for the tenth summer in a row.  Tenth.  How hard is that goal?  You can get into a debate over the quality and accessibility of our food, lack of available hours due to work, gym prices, shit being hot outside and shit being cold outside.  Fuckin' whatever, I lacked commitment.  I didn't put in the work every summer because I simply wanted something easier than what it took to move my legs.  Mental hurdles.  Comfort in the norm.  It takes far less energy to do what your synapses are use to.  How ironic considering building new synapses and new, better habits almost always lead to feeling good.  This is an argument for a different time though.

So I found new shit to hate.  I took a measured risk.  Less money combined with an increase in accountable stress.  My girlfriend - my partner, joined me.  For a hot minute, I felt like I was failing the both of us.  Resentment from others resonates painfully when you have doubts of your own.  I had gambled on my intuition for a reason though, and still feel like I'm holding the necessary cards.  Know your value.  That was a late lesson learned after the interview process.  Zero regrets.  The hard part is being reminded of things you already knew.  Being taught a lesson that you want to fast forward through is a humbling experience.  Who knew that a simple flip of a wristband purchased on a whim could lead to such a difficult reminder.

On a side note, trying is hard.  Trying is dangerous.  Trying is being in a white room with no foreseeable way out yet walking to your left because it feels right.  Trying leads to the Jiro Ono and Julius Robert Oppenheimer's of the world.  One great man perfects the art of sushi, and the other stumbles upon nuclear destruction.  The entirety of each gentleman's lives loom in their eyes.  None of their effort came easy.  I urge you to watch both of these videos.

How poetic when it comes to these polarities of individuals.  Both cultures closely intertwined.  One man aided in the pursuit of science, the other in the perfection of culture and discipline.  Oppenheimer's bomb devastated Japan, and now serves as one of the boogey-mans of the world.  While he most definitely had an idea of what he was inevitably doing, you or I could never understand what it must feel like to know your pursuits of science led to a man's shadow being burnt into walls from atomic blasts.  Jiro is met with reverence in Japan and his documentary is the source of much inspiration on Netflix.  The pain he has inflicted solely lies within himself.  Pain isn't even the right word, it's more of a relentless and tireless battle with perfection.  You can see it in his sons as well, both of who have the same desire to scale the metaphorical mountain their father has built.  Both exceptional human beings.  Oppenheimer tried.  Jiro still try's.  I think that either side of the coin represents the possible beauty of our immense capabilities.

I've never really had a faith.  Only ideals, misconceptions, and quotes.  It was a pleasant surprise to find the quote I mentioned in the beginning pulsating in rhythm against my wrist.  I like to find symbolism in things, which for the most part is dancing on the line between bullshit and creativity.  So I've naturally worn this wristband ever sense because it symbolizes to me, a shift in thinking.  Not like I'm a fucking Buddhist now, or contemplating switching over to being some trendy vegan - which, just wait until they expand on this recent research showing that plants communicate and are somewhat aware of their surroundings.  What will you eat then?  Where is your God now, mother fuckers?  I digress. 

No, nothing so major.  It is just a reminder that I've tried to steer away from levels of comfort and complacency.  A reminder that shit sucks, but that I can approach hurdles with the same smug rational that I had whenever I was young and my friends would say something like "My parents are going to kill me!"  No, they aren't.  It's illegal.  And quite frankly, to do so would be in poor taste for even the below average parent.  The most they can do is cause discomfort.  Just like life's hurdles.  States of discomfort come and go just like the ebb and flow of the tide.  And I suppose at the end of the day the majority of us are just struggling against the tide with ideas of what it'd be like to finally reach the beach.  I'm rambling at this point, but you hopefully get the idea.  Point is, this small little wristband means the world to me.  Enough that I have four back ups to it.  Hopefully the more I use it for inspiration, the more trivial it will become to the point of just being an accessory.  I guess it's something like a placebo effect.  A coy little memory trick to ground my doubts.  Either way, even a sugar pill has been shown to help now and then.  Not fucking with sugar right now though.  Trying to get in shape this summer.