I.
I lived in Barcelona last summer. On my last day there, my friend Beck and I went to play basketball at a court near our apartment. The sun was shining, palm trees were swinging, and we were stoned out of our minds.
After some time shooting around, I saw this little Spanish kid pull up with his mom. He looked around 5-8 years old. I went to rebound for him. I noticed his basketball wasn’t regulation size and was in rough shape.
A month and a half earlier, I had bought a nice full-sized one. Why try to bring it back on the plane, when I could give it to this kid?
“Hola, tengo que volver a mi país, a Los Estados Unidos. Pero no puedo traer esta pelota en el vuelo. ¿Quieres esta pelota?1” I said.
The way this kid’s face lit up was one of the best sights of my life. His eyes beamed with excitement as he grabbed the ball.
Walking away from the court, Beck and I didn’t say anything for a while. Perhaps because we were still a little cooked! But I think it was also because of how nice of a moment it was. A moment that didn’t need words.
“That was awesome.” was all my friend eventually said.
“Yeah, that was cool.”
I stayed up all night that night, so I could sleep on my flight that was leaving at 7 A.M.
I spent the hours in my room, listening to music. Every time I thought about the happy little Spanish kid, I started weeping. It was strange. Strange because I was dying laughing at the same time. It felt so good.
Yes, I’m admitting I cried after I gave a basketball to a random child. The tears were also likely due to a combination of drunkenness, exhaustion, and overwhelm at how amazing of a time I had while abroad. But it was also an expression of how good it feels to give.
II.
This story was one big virtue signal, I know. It wasn’t that special. But it felt great—and I get a similar feeling when someone tells me they’ve been enjoying my content.
Which is why sharing, in particular sharing valuable knowledge, is one of my main motivations for writing.
However, like all humans, I also act out of self-interest:
I hope this blog blows up. I hope my social media content gets more reach. I hope people become paid subscribers. I hope I get sponsors. I hope I get more opportunities to travel, meet interesting people, and create wealth. I hope a golden, gorgeous latina who likes to alternate between reading books and banging comes across my content and wants to meet me, so we can one day make incredibly intelligent and attractive children. All that is part of the motivation for working on this newsletter every day. I confess!
But that doesn’t take away from my desire to give.
Because every part of me hopes that the writing I put out can be of service to someone. I don’t claim to be able to solve all your problems. But I’m confident my content can give someone a powerful realization. Or change how someone thinks. Or inspire someone to improve themselves. Or spark someone’s curiosity.
This blog feels like my ikigai. I used to write as a kid. The feeling of pen hitting paper is pleasurable for me. I love it. My grandmother used to take me to Barnes and Noble all the time. My mother is a teacher who reads all the time. My father has a large library. My grandfather has a large library. It’s said that a writer is a reader moved to emulation. It’s true. It feels like I need to write.
III.
All that said, the strongest reason I write is so that I can learn more. The best way to understand something better is to write about it—because for something you wrote to make sense, you need to have some understanding of it. Writing to learn is a beautiful loop.
So to all of my subscribers, I sincerely hope you get value out of my essays, book summaries, and quote curations. Thank you for reading.
We haven’t even begun the beginning of just getting started.
Translation: “Hey, I have to return to my country, to the United States. But I can’t bring this ball on the flight with me. Do you want this ball?”
Love this!
That was great.