The one and only time I truly tried to surf, I couldn’t get my board past the tiny waves at the shore. I spent 20 minutes swimming as hard as I ever have. I’d make it three feet, get knocked back four. When I felt like passing out, I shambled out of the water, sat down and puked. I brushed sand over my vomit like a cat covering its droppings.
Kenny rode the waves for another half hour, and we left. I never bothered surfing again.
It’s a metaphor for life. We can get so beat down by the little waves, we stop thinking about the big ones. And in the process, the most important part of ourselves dies.
Not even our friends can save us.
“We get stuck in old thought and behavior patterns that may have been effective when we were twelve months or twelve years old, but now only serve to hold us back,” Neil Strauss writes in The Game. “And, while those around us may have no problem correcting our minor flaws, they let the big ones slide, because it would mean attacking who we are.”
What’s your biggest flaw?
Give your best friend a few shots of Patrón. Corner him and say: “What do you think I need to change about my life?”
He knows the answer.
And you probably do, too.