Take Two at the Harbor
"What is your 'why' in life?"
Nice, 2018. After a late breakfast, a hike uphill, a quick lunch, and some more walking, we finally arrive at the harbor. Three friends and I sit down at a terrace, overlooking boats that occasionally sail in, returning from a sunny day out on the water. With this beautiful view in front of us, we somehow land on one of life’s big questions.
To be honest, I have no idea how to answer it. To buy myself some time, I first ask them how they see it for me. As I listen to their thoughts, I reflect on my own. I think about studying computer science, how that connects to the work I do today, and what kind of impact it could have that might relate to a “why.” I think about coaching athletics for kids, something I’ve been doing for about ten years now, ever since I was fifteen. How it all fits into a “why” I haven't yet defined for myself remains a mystery.
Until all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly click together.
People often speak of the "eureka effect"—one of those thought streams that comes out of nowhere, in the shower or on a long walk. A moment where all the loose ends suddenly tie together. If such a thing truly exists, then that’s exactly what happened to me on that terrace in the harbor of Nice. Not the place you’d expect a revelation like that to happen, assuming you’d expect it at all.
I’m a developer, a profession full of challenges that I deeply enjoy. I’m involved in CoderDojo, where I teach kids how to code. I’ve been into athletics since I was seven and have been coaching young athletes since I was fifteen. And only now do I clearly see the common thread running through it all:
Passing on the enthusiasm and experiences of the things I love to the next generation.
That’s how developer and mentor, athlete and coach are all connected. The student and the teacher. The Jedi apprentice and their master. All of them pass on their knowledge to those who come after them—a process that has been going on for thousands of years, and one that fascinates me more than I ever realized.
After my friends finish sharing their stories, I tell them mine. As I speak, I see a lot of nodding, confirming that this small moment in time might actually be something real. The path is clear—now it’s time for what comes next. Plans are worth nothing if they’re left sitting in the bottom drawer, untouched. As the sun sinks into the sea and I chew the final bite of fresh fish, I begin to dream of new adventures.
Take Two is about to unfold.