In my *cough COUGH* years on this earth I’ve discovered several personal hacks to help my unique version of a brain get through the day. Amongst them all is one question that always brings me the most clarity of thought and moves me from uncertainty towards clear, confident action fastest. It’s the single most powerful question I can ask myself.

And it’s simply this:

“What has to be true about this situation so you can look back on this in a year after it’s over and feel a strong sense of pride?”

That’s it.

Pretty simple, right? Now granted…rolled into that question is the assumption that you know what gives you a strong sense of pride when you look at your own actions (if you don’t feel like you do consider doing some reading on personal values and values alignment) but the beauty of this question is that most of us have an inherent understanding of what makes us feel righteous and strong and what makes us cringe about ourselves…deep down you’ll know the answer to this one right away whether you want to acknowledge it or not.

So if something’s bothering you right now.. If you’re stuck in a situation of uncertainty or excess stress then maybe give this a quick try and see how it goes for you. And please leave feedback on this in the comments- I’d be thrilled to know what your results are!!

In late 2009 I left San Francisco to begin a year-long trip through Central America and SE Asia. The idea was to to decompress from several years of hard, but undirected work and to kindly give the universe the chance to strike me with the sublime life-inspiration generally reserved for painters, poets and politicians. That first bit happened. The second…not so much.

A few months into this trip, after months spent in sandy hammocks and chilled out gringo bars; lazy beaches and multi-national smoking circles I was pretty. fucking. mellow.

I had passed through the isthmus of Panama, been thoroughly confused by Havana, lightly trekked through Costa Rica and Nicaragua and dove deep off the island of Utila to briefly pause on the northern coast of Honduras in a little town called Puerto Cortes.

This was June of 2009. As in this June of 2009. I’d passed briefly through Tegucigalpa by bus and seen some of the anger and effects of the curfew that had been put in place. All I knew what that Caye Caulker and was a ferry ride away and I wanted out of Honduras in case things got worse (although at the time they weren’t as bad as reported).

Which brings us to the whole ‘murder in the street’ thing. I was standing in a parking lot under an overpass by some river with about 40 other people on a sweltering day waiting for the ferry that would take us to Belize. I had misjudged my timing and arrived several hours early. I dropped my pack, slid down against one of the overpass pillars and stared out at the river. I was bored as shit.

Across the way a Canadian couple was keeping their 8 year old daughter occupied. Across the lot a few families were kibitzing and keeping each other entertained. Everyone was waiting and everything was slow. The river. The hazy air. The car that backfired. the sweat climbing down on my brow. The car’s second backfire. Mostly my slow-ass brain in realizing that that was not a backfiring car.

What happened next I still find pretty amazing.

First, the people closest to the shots broke and ran. That of course is not amazing. That makes perfect fucking sense. What was amazing was how the rest of us reacted instinctively against their motion. You ever watch the Discovery Channel and see a herd of gazelle at some Serengeti oasis on the quick break because one of them is well and truly spooked? Like…one smooth motion away from danger right as a crocodile snaps one of their necks in half? It was exactly like that.

You don’t think. There’s no processing. Not really. Your brain just sort of does what it does. In my case my brain did the following: ‘Wait was that a…?’ *insert instinctive ducking behind aforementioned concrete pillar here* ‘ohshitohshitohshitohshit' ‘ok, I don’t hear him coming for me- what do I do?’ ‘I can jump in the river! Bullets don’t travel well through water!’ ‘I’ll just jump in, swim down deep and pop up behind that dock over there!’ ‘If I run fast he can’t shoot me. This will work. This will work. This will work.’

I didn’t actually do any of those things. I cowered behind that pillar, listened reeaaaaal carefully for movement, and got ready to hit anyone or anything that came my way. Oh and I freaked out. A bunch.

I’m glossing over most of the details here intentionally. They’re not fun to remember and telling you about them in text won’t do them justice anyway. (If you really want to try and experience this close your eyes. Now imagine two men fighting. Now imagine one of them pulling out a gun and blowing out the back of the other guy’s head. Now imagine that dead man lying in the street looking like a fake rubber mannequin from a terrible B movie with what is obviously fake blood and sponge cake splattered all over the pavement. Now imagine his girlfriend turning around and starting to wail and collapse as she realizes what’s happened. Now imagine the baby in her arms starting to wail as he realizes that something is terribly, irreparably wrong. Oh, but do all this while hyperventilating and convinced that you’re about to die. Actually I take it back… you’ve pretty much got the picture)

So there it is. I’ve witnessed murder. It was awful. But I think it’s worth it for most of us who live so far removed from the daily threat of violence to know that this happened. That this happens.