A Lesson in Reflection

After two challenging weeks of revitalization efforts on a horse ranch, I traded burdens of failure for a few important lessons I can carry proudly.

My initial reaction was boy what a failure. A failure in expectations. A failure in intentions. And a failure in commitment. This sense of failure felt like a failure in integrity and that hurt more than the lack of reaching some arbitrarily desired result. There was the fear that I had somehow constructed a lie for myself out of wanting it to be the truth, consequently undermining my ability to trust my own decision-making process. While this may sound like a harsh reaction, as someone who continually strives for higher self-awareness this appeared to be a reversion of previously accomplished work. But what a foolish thought. For all that previous work had been through potentially poor experiences of their own. When confronted with such feelings of failure it is only through the assertion of previous expectations that the failure is truly realized. In other words, I was confronted with the potential for failure if I didn't take the time to reflect on and adjust my own relation to the circumstances. And like this, I discovered an experience that had so much to teach me of ideas I had only briefly previously considered. But to understand why this was so I must first share some important context.

I’ll vividly remember taking this picture, forever.

Last year March I left my job as a Solutions Engineer in San Francisco. This job was my first after dropping out of College to move across the country for an experimental software engineering school. Just the validation from getting the job was enough to make it worthwhile, at least in the beginning. After some time it became apparent things weren't working out for me there so I decided to move on. Just a few weeks later Covid hit. Needless to say, my perspective as with so many others was shifted dramatically. The new world was both constricted in space and endless in opportunity. Without the option of meeting others, I had the chance to better know myself. Without a job to occupy my hours, I got to experiment with a life void of time. I walked for hours. Thought for days. Started things and consequently quit them. I communicated with people in new ways, often speaking of how crazy things were, while secretly enjoying the calm among it all. In an undeniably tough era of global pain, loss, and physical restriction an odd sense of mental freedom began to emerge. So I thought why not take this freedom to the road.

My Klr 650. The bike that could, if only I gave it the chance.

Briefly, after buying the motorcycle which was going to take me across the country, I chose to nix that plan in pursuit of another. One that I was drawn to for reasons I would only recently truly recognize. So I took one final incredible road trip and then embarked on the adventure of moving myself mid pandemic to Seattle Washington where I already had a few friends and could work to acclimate myself as a local. Seattle is beautiful. Nature, the people, the love of life, and the spirit for adventure are felt everywhere. Then winter hit and hibernation ensued. The Seattle cloud fought with us outdoors, as did Covid indoors. A murky recipe for anyone's mental health. Realizing this I rented a car and drove for a month of expanded solitude.

The views in the western United States are at times unbelievable.

Driving through Washington, Oregon, and California I had the chance to further explore myself, and the world of which I am a part. This trip taught me a great many things about what we call nature, existence, solitude, and my own consciousness. While the lessons were painfully real at times, my capacity for understanding has forever been expanded. Upon returning to Seattle it was obvious that I wanted to explore further, but this time while integrating other priorities. So just a few days later I transferred my lease over to a friend and took off to Cozumel Mexico where I would stay for the next month, spending a large portion of my time working on my professional development as an app developer.

Though my body will at times say otherwise, I honestly love spicy food!

The experience in Mexico was wildly different from any I've had before. Everything was new. The culture was so different from my own that it was certainly due to the kindness of the locals that I have so many positive experiences to remember. Immersing myself away from the tourism and within the local communities, I made friends and observed strangers, all of who taught me about the sometimes drastically different ways in which people take care of their needs, celebrate life, communicate, find joy, attribute value, and confront their own reality. By all accounts, my trip was a success, and with that, I headed to New Jersey with a newfound sense of appreciation for the diverse nature of life, as well as improved confidence in my navigational, technical, and communicative abilities.

Somehow this picture best encapsulates my El Paso experience :)

Still high on my previous adventures, it didn't take much convincing to get me on a plane to El Paso to meet up with a group of friends making their way across the country, month by month, Airbnb by Airbnb as they took advantage of the world of remote work. Influenced by the environment of nine to fivers and uninspired by what our immediate vicinity had to offer I found myself heavily contemplating my future both professionally and passionately. And thus I was going through rounds of interviews (none of which panned out), while simultaneously considering hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (didn't happen yet). Yes, these seem like two opposite agendas, however, the dichotomy of the two seems to further indicate an idea I've come to understand about myself, which is strong, oftentimes opposing desire for both ego-centric accomplishment (or maybe just stability¹), and journeys of self-exploration. This struggle became a central theme in the conversations I was having for the podcast Musings with Mortals I began recording while there. Without any resolution, I returned to New Jersey uncertain of what would come next.

Sitting in bed aimlessly browsing the internet I landed back on a website I had signed up for nearly a year prior when first considering moving out of San Francisco. Wwoof.com functions as a directory of individuals and farms seeking each other out. The proposition of continuing my exploration on a farm learning seemingly important skills of self-sufficiency, away from my technology-oriented life was wildly enticing. Then I came across what seemed to be the perfect opportunity. A horse ranch working to rejuvenate their conservation efforts for a band of wild horses, through education, funding, and hands-on care. Wow-what an amazing amalgamation of experiences I thought. A passionate conversation with the owner and two days later I had myself booked to visit the California-based ranch the following month. I was ecstatic about the coming experience so much so that I nearly backed out of a trip that I had committed to some time earlier with some friends, just so I could get to California sooner. But I didn't and boy am I glad of it.

For 10 days six of us enjoyed each other’s company in a log cabin within the North Carolina forests. Time seemed to dissipate as we spent our days living moment to moment in ways I'd expect would make Huckleberry Finn proud. We boated, nearly tipped ATVs, fished, cooked, wrote, conversed, painted, watched movies, and spent hours exploring our surrounding environment. We existed within an intangible sense of holistic synchronicity. Like a dream the time came to an abrupt end, sending us each to our respective realities we had forgotten without restrain. But only now do I see that. For in the moment while sad to see one good thing end I was enthusiastic for the next to begin.

I was heading to a horse ranch in California on what might just be the greatest adventure of this oh so romantic year. And this is where I should have foreseen the dangers of blind expectations. Here in California in what was supposed to be the epitome of an adventure, I was confronted with a very different reality. There was a real ranch with real horses and real people working really hard under high stress and tough restrictions. The community was nowhere to be found. The plan for rejuvenation only barely a plan. The workers were missing. The money was nonexistent. Order was present but only in the form of treading. What caught me most off guard was being met with the reality of the immense pressure shared by the people, and environment so foreign to me. It felt as if I had accidentally walked into a copy of the Migrant Mother, and now that I was there couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving. The complications, mishaps, and unexpected difficulties came at an almost constant rate. This was besides the required daily tasks to keep the operation afloat. What was "supposed" to be an effort of assistance became one of psychological savior, yet even that couldn't be accomplished in any way I understood. I quickly learned the immense weight of withered hope. But then again there was an immense amount of knowledge to be acquired there.

I had never before understood the intimate nature of a horse. The horses became a testament to the similarity and relatability between species. Their use and understanding of body language, communication, and familial dynamics drew my eyes inward to my own values for communication and relationships. And if the horses on display before me could demonstrate that then what else is to be learned and understood from the entirety of nature. I was conflicted between the acceptance or rejection of my circumstances.

The decision to leave felt like a selfish choice between knowledge or comfort. The past year of living freely and experimentally had been one I'd consider a resounding success, yet standing there shell shocked by my current experiment I was faced with a different reality. This was not a self-serving trip that I can just write off as not having worked out as planned. This was a harsh reality where real lives, ideals, and lessons were at stake. Had I been on just another adventure than moving on from a less than ideal reality would be no issue. But that wasn't the case. I somehow stumbled upon a treasure trove of interwoven experiences on personal development, nature, quality, and grit. The unfortunate situation was such that these experiences were surrounded by an environment extremely psychologically challenging. But am I so naive to believe that the most important lessons can be learned without unforeseen difficulties? Even now I have difficulty explaining the complex dilemma I was faced with at the time. In summary, it resided in the trifecta of a challenging yet welcomed learning experience accompanied by an unexpected immensely uncomfortable psychological environment where my absence would create physically manifested repercussions of which I felt sentimentally towards.

Ultimately I did leave and I'm glad for it. The time there was just two weeks yet it was the year prior that prepared me for the harsh lessons learned then. Through difficulty, observations, and conversations I learned. I learned that having intention and passion can help push one through an immense challenge, and consequently the lack thereof makes even the slightest difficulty unbearable. I learned that I exist within a wildly interconnected ecosystem that I benefit greatly from but provide negligibly towards, and I want that to change. I learned that communication is a universally important trait and one that I should constantly be striving towards improving. I learned that the place and people surrounding a circumstance can mean more than the circumstance itself. And I concluded that moving forward I will take great effort to incorporate these lessons as considerations for the adventures on which I choose to embark. I am glad for having taken the risk and will continue to take such risks in the future. What I walked away with definitely justifies the difficulties.

With this, I'm going to move forward intentionally. Intentional in my writings, doings, activities, relationships, and communications. I found that a challenge is an opportunity and that I can wisely choose from many. I want to apply myself to something meaningful, and so I am working towards an understanding of "meaning". I want to find flow, passion, love, and unity throughout my experience. so along the way, I expect to encounter blockages, distaste, hate, and conflict. I will continue to explore unfamiliar ideas and reexamine obvious ones. My life is a journey and I am the navigator. As for the terrain, I know I can only choose which of the many paths to take. That is why I strive to better understand the world around me, and my relation to it. Knowledge is everything when it comes to navigating and experiences like I had on the horse ranch are the knee scrapes that teach me the most. I oftentimes feel as if my mind is my greatest toy, with which I can endlessly explore. This experience allowed for the exploration of parts I hadn't yet well understood and for that and others like it, I am grateful.

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Ps. I am new to writing, especially publicly. My objective is to establish a creative medium for authentically expressing my experiences and ideas. Putting this together has forced me to think about my own experience in new ways that have already proven valuable. I hope that you find some value in it too. If you are so inclined I would greatly appreciate any constructive feedback as I continue to improve on my writing abilities. Feel free to reach me as yosefserkez at Gmail or Twitter.

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Ashley @ashleydzhang

the Kindle vs. physical book debate is just the inner tension between the freedom of a minimalist nomadic lifestyle vs. the stability of planting roots and building a home