Whether or not the story is true, it goes something like this:
Five hundred years ago, a man set sail with a small fleet of eleven ships bound for the Yucatán Peninsula. He did so in secret, defying the law of his time, which demanded all fleets secure the governor’s permission before setting sail.
It was a reckless gamble. Back then, disobedience of this kind didn’t earn you a quick and merciful end. No, that was a privilege reserved for best of the worst. For men like him, those bold enough to defy the crown, special punishments were crafted. Think low simmer in a big iron pot type stuff.
So why did this man and his small fleet take such a risk?
There had been reports that this foreign peninsula held more gold than the world had ever seen, and he knew that if he were able to conquer the land, he would become one of the most important figures in all of the Spanish Empire. In fact, he was betting on it.
When his men started to push inland, however, they quickly realized they were not only far outnumbered by native forces, but also ill-suited to fight in jungle climate. Their armor was hot and heavy, and their boots were too stiff for the soft terrain.
Uncertainty began to spread among the ranks. They spoke of leaving, abandoning their post. Why should they be the ones to risk their necks? After all, they weren’t even supposed to be there! Perhaps the governor would forgive their pardons if they returned to Cuba with their rebellious leader as a prisoner.
Sensing his men's waning spirits, the commander was distraught. Uncertainty meant certain failure. He would have to act drastically.
In the dead of the night, he secretly assigned his closest guards to sneak out and set fire to each of the ships. By the time the alarmed soldiers stumbled onto the sticky and smoky beach, it was too late. Their ships, with all of their hopes of comfortably sailing back to safe lands, were nothing but charred skeletons sinking into oblivion.
Outraged, the soldiers tied their leader up and prepared him for execution. Famously, this is all he had to say:
“We will either conquer, or die.”
Hernán Cortés would go on to lead the most influential campaign against the Aztec Empire, claiming the land for Spain, and solidifying his place in history as one of the most notorious conquerors of the New World.
***
Can you simplify the whole of people into two groups? Probably not. But this is my essay so I will.
There are two types of people in the world: those who have visions and take the risks required to bring them to fruition, and those who have visions.
That is it.
We often ask successful people how they reached the top, how they became so good at what they do. Questions like these couldn’t be a bigger waste of breath. We know exactly how they did it; we just don't want to do it ourselves.
Evolution has wired humans to seek comfort and security rather than risks and sacrifices. That inclination is entirely natural, and there is nothing inherently wrong with it, as long as you are satisfied receiving the same outcome as everyone else.
But what if you weren’t satisfied? Wouldn’t it be selfish and unjust to want something that the majority doesn't have?
We've certainly been conditioned to think so.
Personally, I don't subscribe to self-limiting, communist ideals. Fighting to bring your own vision into existence isn't selfish; it's the contrary.
If you start making personal decisions to identify and align with what others deem as appropriate and fair rather than trusting your instincts, you not only betray yourself in the deepest way, but also cheat the rest of us by not becoming what you were destined to become.
People aren’t designed to be interchangeable.
Utopia isn’t some clean, orderly world where everyone sits around eating cakes and sleeping. Utopia is a place where everyone has the privilege to take the risks required to pursue their vision (and eat cakes).
But we don't live in a utopia. Many of us will never be able to comfortably take risks.
Then again, risks were never meant to be comfortable. Even if you had the ships, sometimes the best strategy would be to burn them.
***
Unarticulated ideas aren’t worth a half-dime. That’s the first reason why I had to write this essay.
I’d been fumbling around with a vague conception that a risk appetite was somehow important. Now, I realize what an egregious understatement that was.
Taking risks is not merely important; it’s a necessary requirement for a meaningful life.
Take stock of the people you admire. It’s not a coincidence that every one of them at some point in their life took at least one major risk. Now reflect on your own life. Do you think it’s a coincidence that the periods where you grew the most followed a risk of some sort?
Unlike your mother, fortune does pick favorites. Your boldness will be rewarded.
But oftentimes, pursuing risk means openly disregarding the advice most people offer.
It’s not that the risk-taker doesn’t care about these people and their opinions, but rather that they possess a radical trust in their own intuition. Or in Cortés’s case, a radical short-sighted ambition for glory and gold.
Furthermore, the bulk of advice (especially when unsolicited) assumes that all parties are optimizing for the same end goal.
This passes as acceptable because most people do share the same definition of success. Most people also never take the time to define success for themselves.
The second reason for this essay was because, well, I’m burning the ships.
Life in Montana is simple, peaceful, and quiet. Long term, when risks become too risky, planting the flag here will be ideal. In the short term, however, this level of comfort doesn’t support my vision of growth.
In other words; I’ve got to ramble.
The new adventure is as follows: I am taking every dollar of my sweat-stained, waiter-boy savings ($15,000) and schlepping it abroad to set up my new life as a writer. Depending on which country I land in, my savings should provide eight to ten months of runway.
The goal is to publish quality. That is it.
Yes, the savings will dwindle. And after they dwindle enough, I’m sure I’ll be tempted to focus more on promoting than sharpening the craft. As Victor Hugo once said, “Nothing makes a man more adventurous than an empty pocket.”
I hope to never become so adventurous that I start writing stories like, “The top 7 things to do in [insert semi-exotic place].” It would feel disingenuous and inauthentic, which are the exact opposite of my artistic (and life) aims.
As I’ll be optimizing for quality production, my previous road-ripping style of vagabonding will have to be stowed away. You don’t take a Land Cruiser to the race track. Wrestling hostel hydras while bouncing between countries like a pinball is not conducive to workflow.
I plan to travel slow: two to three months in each location. It goes without saying that I’ll leave a small buffer for side-quests between each of these working blocks. After all, art can’t imitate life if there is no life.
The question I asked myself to determine if this idea was born from an unruly impulse or my intuition was:
If I knew this was going to fail, would I still do it?
Would I still set sail, knowing I might slink back home broke, with no other opportunity but to return to the kitchen I toiled so hard to escape?
The answer was obvious–yes. Yes! I knew so immediately. The question hardly needed to be asked.
I’m not satisfied with the standard rewards society offers. I don’t accept the gentle nudges pushing me towards the traditional and predictable path. My dice were not meant to lie dormant, collecting the dust of my forgotten dreams while I surrender to a life lived vicariously through others. Life is meant for the living. Bring on the sacrifices and risks and setbacks and failures and humiliations. If that’s what is required, then I open my arms to it all!
As for you, dear reader, if you made it this far, it’s either because you are worried for me, or because you feel the same fire within yourself.
To the latter group, you might as well feed that fire. Let it spread to your ships. Find your curiosities, lean into them, look weird while pursuing them. This is the path to maximizing your value in society. I’d much rather have you create something of your own than sit back and follow my journey.
As for those who may have concerns for me and my uncertain future; I love you. How wonderful the world is when you know that others care for you.
If it helps, imagine that I am doing this so the conversations at Thanksgiving won’t be limited to weather and football. Besides, at this point, I’m afraid that it would be quite impossible for you to change my mind.
By the time you finish reading this, I’ll already be halfway across the world…
"The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
