Mexican Fishing Village

Things are cliche for a reason. Many lifetimes ago I read “The Four Hour Work Week” by Tim Ferriss and it inspired my twenty something know it all self. I quickly imagined how my army of virtual assistants and outsourced white label supplements would generate a lasting residual income to fuel my monthly dream income. Many years later I would find my vision board under a massive stack of paper I was clearing off of my mahogany desk (which I was selling to make ends meet as my first company was imploding.)

I chuckled to myself as I looked at the cutouts of tropical getaways, white convertibles, private jets, crystal decanters of 60 year old scotch and bikini clad models. Although I was in the midst of abject failure I had attained and experienced a majority of my “dreams.” In the relentless pursuit of my goals I had lost sight of my purpose. It would be a pattern that would repeat again and again. The underlying drive to achieve, to prove myself worthy of some arbitrary metric of success was and largely remains insatiable.

The parable of the Mexican fishing village resonated with me deeply the first time I read it. As I pursued my misadventures over the years I would frequently cite the story as I wistfully pined for the “simple life.” I have had countless opportunities to embrace the simple life over the years, yet time and time again I find myself chasing the dream and the pain. The continuing inability to resolve this underlying internal conflict leaves the idyllic fishing village just beyond my reach. Hasta mañana.

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