Be

When reflecting on a memory, certain people can remember all sorts of meaningless specifics: the day of the week, time of day, maybe even the clothes being worn.

My brain’s limbic system fails to operate this way. In the majority of the small, minute moments that have made an imprint on my life, it always comes back to the words. Others’ words easily inspire and leave a lasting mark on me, which brings me to one particular memory from a few summers ago, when I was sitting in the living room of my best friend’s house.

Ben’s mother had just returned home after getting a small tattoo on the inside of her wrist. I asked her what design she had opted for, and I remember feeling taken aback by her response and ensuing explanation.

Forever carved into her eternally summer-tanned skin, Mrs. Sibson received two letters:

B and E.

On the surface level, if you’re familiar with the wonderful Sibson clan, you know that Ben and Elizabeth are the two children. So obviously, B and E stand for the first initials of her children’s names.

But behind so many of the tattoos in the world, a deeper meaning exists. When put together, the two letters form one simple -- but very, very powerful -- word:

“BE.”

When she addressed this second meaning, I asked for further clarification. I’m paraphrasing, but she responded with this, something I’ll never forget:

“How often do you just be in the moment? Like truly, just be. How often do you just eat a chocolate bar and slow down and enjoy every single bite? Like follow its whole journey -- from first bite through the moment it dissolves in your mouth?

And thus, Ben’s mother introduced me to the underutilized and underappreciated concept of mindfulness.

Be.

The message is so simple. But living in and savoring the moment is becoming increasingly difficult for all of us.

We’re entrenched in a competitive and caffeinated world oversaturated with glowing screens and ephemeral, endorphin-releasing experiences everywhere we turn. We spend so much time looking forward that we forget to embrace the now.

To present an example from my professional life, let’s look at LeBron James. James, who will end his career as the greatest basketball player ever, just enjoyed (arguably) the best season of his career at the age of 33.

Rather than celebrate this as the season unfolded, sports debate circles centered on James’ upcoming summer free agency decision. Even in the midst of one of the greatest regular season/postseason performances we’ve ever witnessed, everything always came back to which city James would call home next season.

And that’s no way to live.

To shine a light on my own life, I lived this way for my first few months in Connecticut, a slap in the face to Mrs. Sibson and her sage message. The second I walked through ESPN’s doors, I wondered what was next. Where will my next job be? How will this job prepare me for that next one? Where am I going to live next? Where will I be in five years?

I asked myself all of these questions, constantly. Feelings of anxiety overwhelmed me as I  searched for unattainable answers. It wasn’t until a few months in that I decided to make a change. In January, I committed to doing the best job I possibly could and trusted that my determination, optimism, charisma and natural abilities would get me from A to B. Believe in those characteristics, I told myself, and everything will fall into place.

So that’s one broader way of how I practice mindfulness. If we can commit to it, I promise it’s a liberating experience. However, to truly reap its benefits, mindfulness requires our full engagement. So on a more micro-level, how else do I go about basking in the moment?

When my job schedule allows me to do so, I wake up early -- anywhere from 6 to 7 a.m. I interact with my phone only long enough to shut off its alarm. Then, I immediately put it in airplane mode. The average work day doesn’t start until 9 a.m., so I don’t owe anyone an answer until at least then. If it’s an emergency, you’ll find a way to contact me.

After enjoying every bite of a hearty and nutritious homemade breakfast -- three eggs, a ton of vegetables and a big bowl of oatmeal nearly every morning -- I go outside, close my eyes and take in the natural sounds of the world around me. Silence fills the air but speaks louder than any words I’ll hear later in the day.

In all of these writings, I want to make it clear that I’m not perfect. I struggle with many of the same dilemmas you do every day. Mindfulness requires so much brain power and discipline. When I meditate, my mind drifts almost instantly to unchecked mundane tasks on my to-do list. It’s very difficult to bring myself back, but I always try.

When you apply mindfulness to your own life, it will not be a facile experience. But nothing worth accomplishing ever comes easily. So commit to it and don’t get upset. It will be uncomfortable at first, but it is only in times of discomfort that we make improvements.

It may seem like an abstract philosophical concept -- the art of living intentionally and in the moment -- but I promise, it’s not. To simplify it, reduce mindfulness to two letters.

BE.

Troy Farkas is an aspiring writer. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram @tfark04.

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C.E.O.

I've never thought of myself as a businessman. The only numbers I’ve ever enjoyed examining are batting averages and the dates of historic American legislation.

I’ve never read one book or listened to one lecture on finances. I still can’t tell you the concrete difference between macro- and micro-economics. Nor do I understand the DOW Jones or the Dodd-Frank Act. Despite receiving advice to do so, I have no intentions of investing in Wall Street--the jargon alone intimidates me.

Despite my inexperience, I’m employed by a business--a thriving one actually. It’s arrow hasn’t always pointed upwards, but the company has definitely picked up some momentum in the past few years. Its progress consumes my every waking moment, motivating my every action and lurking behind each decision I make.

Believe it or not, at just 22 years old, I’m already an executive.

That’s right. Vice President, President, and C.E.O. of Troy Farkas Incorporated, an up-and-coming business I believe will change the world.

We are all C.E.O.’s of our own lives. Every action or decision--no matter how big or small--affects our company’s viability in the open market.

We have to build our companies from the ground-up by dragging ourselves through the drudgery of the mailroom and other remedial tasks.We’ll undoubtedly encounter struggles and unforeseen circumstances along the way, but we must remain vigilant and believe our companies’ will earn profits in the long-run.

Like any good business, we must always assess our progress. Forgo the quarterly reconciliations and instead reflect on every day. We must regularly reason through every decision we make.  Lost in this age of second-screening is the time for self-contemplation and daydreaming, often where our best ideas and innovations find their roots. We need to look at the pitfalls of yesterday to pave the way for the beautiful waterfalls of tomorrow.

In addition, we must change our business plans when something isn’t working. We have to cut our losses when we see flatlining in our growth. New technologies, concepts, and ideas must be embraced so that we don’t fall behind in a rapidly-changing economy. Everywhere we turn, a different industry faces a doomsday in the near future. Coffin construction is underway for the newspaper, Xerox machine, and cable television. Don’t let them build one for your product too.

To maximize potential business growth, we must constantly ask ourselves questions like the following:

Our companies’ most important resources are time and money. Do we get the most out of our days? Are we allowing the distractions of television, video games, and social media to limit our time spent striving to reach our companies’ goals?

Treat every purchase as a business transaction. Will that new pair of shoes help build and sustain company morale? Will that pricey iPhone 15 with a screen the size of a book help our companies flourish any more than the iPhone 7 we purchased a year ago?

Let’s look at our friends. They’re C.E.O.’s too. We must ask ourselves if those partnerships are still worth pursuing. If they’re no longer beneficial, then we must cut ties and search for new business allies.

Examine health. How do you treat your body? After all, it’s our companies’ most precious and irreplaceable piece of machinery. Treat it with respect and fill it with nutrients and satiating water. Our companies will operate more efficiently that way, resulting in short-term growth and net gains in any year-over-year analytical measure we wish to use.

Any other example you can think of, apply it to your own life. You get to determine your company’s priorities.

We’ve all heard the story of the guy who infamously sold his Apple share before the tech startup became the behemoth it is today. Ronald Wayne, the company’s little-known third founder, doubted Apple’s long-term stability. So in April 1976, Wayne sold his 10 percent share for $800.00.

According to CNBC, a 10 percent share in Apple today comes out to approximately $80 billion.

Welp, big mistake.

Of the little I know about Wall Street, I know it’s a good thing when an outsider invests in a company. It means they see something there, perhaps something that other people don’t. They see enough that they’re willing to take a chance, hoping it pays off.

It’s your company. It’s your life.

Don’t let people sell their stock in you. But rather, give them a reason to invest in it.

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Rebirth

Stop.

Close your eyes. Take a huge inhale through your nose, pause, and then exhale, letting your shoulders and chest fall with the breath.

Pause, then relax. Let the silence speak.

Now, open your eyes.

See the couch in the living room? The bed in the bedroom? The plate in the kitchen cabinet?

For the first time in your life, they’re yours.

Congratulations!

You’ve graduated and have found yourself a job in a new, unfamiliar place. Maybe you’re staying close to home or in your college town, but you’re moving into a new apartment. Or maybe you’re continuing your education, but somewhere else. In some way over the coming months, you will start fresh. You will be re-born. You don’t get many chances to do that over the course of a lifetime.

Many of you have already made the transition. Some of you have a little more time to wait. But sooner or later, you will arrive in the position I found myself in almost a year ago.

After the stress of the first week of my new life subsided, I remember waking up one sunny August morning in Connecticut. I gazed out my window, past the surrounding apartments and focused my eyes in on the tree-covered mountains I seem to find everywhere I go. I thought back to my summer in Cooperstown, N.Y. a few years ago,, the first of several cloud-nine experiences of my life. I recalled the ensuing fall and the rolling hills of Scotland, the best four-month period of my collegiate career. I remembered upstate New York and the serenity of its picturesque autumns.

An overwhelming feeling of pride consumed me as I suddenly realized that I created this new life. Me, and no one else.

Certainly, I received help from countless teachers, parents, coaches, friends and family members along the way. I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without them. People come and go through life’s revolving saloon door, while I remain the only constant.

The same goes for you. I know you remember the naysayers, those who doubted you’d get to this point. You remember the Thanksgiving conversations of yesteryear, when nagging grandparents criticized your uncertainty regarding the future.

Today, you are validated. You needn’t answer to anyone now. Your decisions are your decisions. Your money is your money and now it’s your job to support yourself. Everything you own is rightfully yours, and you don’t owe anyone a dime for it.

You’re free.

On the flip side, no one can bail you out now. No more excuses. No more blaming your transgressions on naivete and youth. I’ve already tried that--it doesn’t fly. The real world is more merciless than your college campuses and summer jobs and households were. You will make mistakes. You will fail. The burden is placed squarely upon your shoulders--not your parents’ or professors’--to pick yourself back up.

But this newfound agency is something to cherish. Appreciate it, for you now have arrived at a time you knew would eventually come around, but didn’t expect to happen this fast.

Don’t run from it, embrace it.

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Exploring

The 141 hums along the rail, sights set on its destination, confined to one path, a very small chance the train never reaches the next place it will temporarily call home before embarking on the next leg of its journey.

If only it were that easy, I think to myself.

I’m sitting in the window seat of an Amtrak bound for Albany, a long day now behind me, but yet, so much more lay ahead. The sun is falling, finally, after a day spent scorching the East Coast. The searing heat made life miserable for so many of us on this day, so you think I may see the sun’s descent into nothingness and bid it good riddance on the way down.

But today, I can’t help but appreciate it.

The golden ball of light sits on top of the Catskills off in the distance, its rays reflecting off the Hudson River, reminding me of Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise, which triggers happy memories of my favorite high school class.

Even the Impressionist himself couldn’t have painted an oil-on-canvas as inspiring as this.

Such are the treasures of exploring.

A business meeting takes me to New York City for a few hours, so I choose to make a full day of it in spite of the blistering heat. With no plan in place, I allow my curiosities to take me anywhere that piques my interest. A 5 a.m. wake-up call leaves me groggy, so I decide on sitting down in an air-conditioned cafe for one of NYC’s supposedly superior bagels (I still don’t see the hype) and an Americano to put some fuel into the tank.

But then I go travel down a side street, and then another one, and suddenly I find myself in line for an acai bowl, this smoothie-like mixture of superfoods I had read about but never seen before, so I capitalized on the opportunity. Bananas, hemp granola, almond butter, and the works. Damn, it was good.

With a stomach nearing its capacity, I then decide to find my cafe for some coveted relaxation time. Instead, I stumble upon a newly-opened poke place, another mysterious food to me I had read about but not yet eaten. To my surprise, I devour the poke bowl in minutes. In conclusion, I find the smoothie bowl experience much more pleasant, but I’m glad I’ve satisfied my aquatic culinary curiosities.

By the end of my 12-hour day there, I had walked six or seven miles and taken refuge in the shady haven of Central Park. I explored Lincoln Center and its accompanying square, had a successful business meeting, continued my foodie journey through the foodie capital of the world by stopping off for a street gyro at one of the city’s countless street vendors, AND made my train home back in time. The Impressionist scene on the ride to Albany added the cherry on top to an intentionally spontaneous day.

And yet, not enough of us take advantage of experiences like this.

Too often we make excuses. “I don’t have time” takes the cake as the world’s most elite excuse. It’s a hard one to counter. Who am I to know what you have time for?

That excuse is the biggest lie you keep telling yourself. We all have time. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 52 weeks per year. Truth be told, we’ve got nothing but time. You make time for the experiences and the people you really want to have. It’s that simple.

We’re all different, so long walks and food experimentation and train rides may not match your idea of fun. So whatever it is that you find enjoyment in, let me ask you this:

What’s holding you back?

Now, I know what you’re thinking. The other excuse.

I get it. Many of our paychecks don’t find themselves within the comforts of our checking accounts. Instead, our hard-earned dollars go to our state and federal governments, landlords, car dealerships, insurance agencies, and universities.

Unless you find yourself in this gaping hole of crippling debt--like six-figures--then I get it. Hopefully you aren’t in that situation.

But chances are, you find yourself like the rest of us. You won’t admit it to yourself, but you do have some residual income to spend. It may be small and/or take time to build up, but it is there and it is yours to spend wisely. Spend it on experiences, not material possessions.

There’s that band you’ve always wanted to see in concert, but you’re not willing to shell out the $75.00. Or on a bigger scale, you can’t bring yourself to purchase those plane tickets to Venice or London or wherever your heart desires to go. My friends have thrown around all types of trips in the group message over the years: weekends at rented lake houses and weeks on a cruise surrounded by booze and babes. We’ve all said it’d be cool, but just could never agree on anything because money has served as a deterrent.

Don’t let that happen. I’m begging you. If you really want to do something, just go do it. Our 20s are too short. Heck, our lives are too short. Loosen up a bit.

I’ll leave you with this. I set this quote as the background on my phone when I studied abroad. It doesn’t just have to relate to travel.  I hope it serves you well and that you can apply it to your life and all of the experiences you hope to have.

“Travel while you’re young and able. Don’t worry about the money, just make it work. Experience is far more valuable than money will ever be.”

You’re going to spend a large chunk of your life making money.

Trust me, it will come back.