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It’s right under our noses

The secret to happiness and success, that is.

I mean, we practically live on the beach. It’s December and I’m still sweating outside. The running alone here includes miles of wilderness trials; hill training; safe, flat roads and very long stretches of golden sand — all accessible from our front door. I won’t even start talking about the sweet magic of the ocean.

But that’s all external stuff, right? Environment. What’s affecting the internal? Why can’t we just commit and be happy?

I don’t know the immediate answer because there is none. But the slow answer is that attitude and action can go far. For example, I was running on the beach today and thinking just how much potential this particular beach offers, and how I’m only taking very small advantage of it:

  •  a 3 minute bike ride or 10 minute walk from home
  • awesome running
  • clean golden sand
  • beautiful shells and sea glass
  • world class swimming, surfing and bodysurfing
  • parking, lifeguards, showers and restrooms
  • plenty of space
  • cliff jumping
  • a rich history
  • friendly people

…and so much more. I thought about doing yoga and kettle bells on this beach in the mornings and how goddamn freakin amazing that would feel to start the day. But instead I sit indoors hunched over complaining about the mundane run I’m about to do.

Lesson learned: variation is critical to success. It stimulates life.

Another so-called complaint: no intellectual or creative opportunities here. Some of this is true. There is a major lack of intellect here because most people are attuned to the raw and never-to-be-tamed ocean, so there’s really no need to think about, well, much of anything but food, shelter and clothes. It’s a low-intellect/high-intuition place. If we want intellectual stimulation, we either have to go online, into town, travel to those place or start our own project.

Creativity on the other hand is abundant. Plenty of artists and musicians inhabit the area and gift the town with their work. For some really weird reason, I’m shedding these layers of “entrepreneur” which I don’t really care for because I like assuming the mood of an entrepreneur, but it doesn’t come naturally to me.

Writing does, however. So does this mean I’m “just” a writer? Am I going so tropical that the meaning of business is now a near-forgotten abstraction? It sure feels that way, even though I’m not entirely comfortable with it. It feels like too pure to be true.

See, I already know the answers. Just gotta stop brooding.

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