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Starting over from Scratch

and what I have learned from it

*(Dear Reader, What you’re about to read below is purely a fictional story, born of my imagination, so don’t take it too seriously—it’s just a tale.)

Now that 2024 is almost at its end, like everyone else at this time of year, I find myself reflecting on the state of things—what I leave behind, what has happened, the lessons learned, the falls (many), and the times I’ve picked myself back up (just as many).

I’ve never considered myself an “expert” in any particular field. Given my “curious” nature, there are countless areas I’ve explored over the course of my life. You might call me a “jack-of-all-trades.” But honestly, why bother with labels?

One thing, however, where I do have a LOT of experience is starting over from scratch. And that’s what I want to talk to you about today.

Who knows—maybe it’s some kind of masochistic need. Or perhaps it’s the desire to gamble with my life every time, roll the dice, see what number comes up, and each time, put everything on the line and let fate have its say.

I see a lot of myself in the story of Forrest Gump (one of my favorite movies), whose life seems to ride the wave or the breeze of the moment. Each time, though, he manages to paint it with his own colors, leaving his mark with his personality. There’s certainly an element of free will—the decision to go to Vietnam, for instance, or to buy the shrimping boat—but ultimately, things happen, and you can only try to ride the wave as long as it lasts. Keep afloat, so to speak.

“I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze. But I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time,” Forrest says at the end of the film.

That line really resonates with me.

Every time I’ve moved—always to the other side of the world—I’ve never planned too much. I’ve completely followed the impulse of the moment, that so-called inner push.

I moved to Australia, alone, knowing no one, with no job, never having been there before, and with a one-way ticket. I remember vividly that last night as if it were today. I didn’t sleep a wink. At dawn, my dad picked me up when it was still dark outside, and the streets were deserted. It was November 2014.

I can see in my mind the wet asphalt, smell the humidity of the air; it had rained incessantly. I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling of my room, the light from the streetlamp outside shining through the blinds, casting strange shadows on the walls. I was so pumped with adrenaline that I felt I could jump out the window, flap my arms so hard, and fly across the continent and the Indian Ocean, landing in Sydney without ever touching the ground.

Starting over from scratch.

I slept on couches for months, on the beach, in my car. I washed dishes and fryers, chopped tons of vegetables and fruit, and spent minutes, hours, days, weeks in complete solitude, knowing no one, my whole world—friends and family—LITERALLY on the other side of the world.

When I left Australia for NYC, I remember arriving at Fiumicino Airport in Rome at the end of January—bitter cold, dark. I had just left behind the Australian summer: Bondi Beach, the sun, the surf, walking barefoot, working out outdoors. Suddenly, I was thrown into the dead of winter. Seeing all those miserable faces, cigarettes, and the chaos typical of a messy country, I broke down crying like a child. Only those who’ve been through it know what it means—a kind of depression about a country you’ve never truly felt at home in.

Then came the arrival in NYC. A Greyhound bus dropped me off in Manhattan from Maine, where my mom was living at the time. Just me and a duffle bag again. The only person I knew there—let’s call her Jennifer—misteriously kicked me out after a week. I ended up homeless, sleeping a few nights at Battery Park, terrified of being attacked by one of the many crazies you see in NYC. And again, I had to start over, working in a restaurant, doing anything and everything.

Starting over from scratch.

Then COVID hit. Stuck in Italy during lockdown. Losing my Brooklyn apartment, my job. Starting an online business with a friend, only to lose those too. Back to square one again.

I moved to Boston, stayed a year, and then, completely by chance, ended up in Miami. No money, no job, no home.

Starting over from scratch.

And just a few months ago, returning to the home I shared with my ex-partner, I found myself caught in a whirlwind that completely shattered my life. Three cops escorted me out onto the street, all my belongings crammed into a handful of cardboard boxes. No home. No job.

Starting over from scratch.

What’s the point of this story?

In one of my favorite books, The Art of War by Sun Tzu, he speaks about a concept called '“DEATH GROUND”. It appears in Chapter 11, "The Nine Situations", where he discusses various types of terrain and strategies for dealing with them.

Key Idea of "Death Ground"

Sun Tzu advises that when troops are placed in a position where retreat is impossible—such as being surrounded, trapped, or backed against an obstacle like a mountain, river, or sea—they will fight with extraordinary determination and resourcefulness because survival is their only option.

He writes:

"Throw your soldiers into positions from which there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve."

As I see it, when you have nothing to lose and no options left, all you’re left with are your resources and your balls, and you find a way to get out of the situation you’re in. It’s not easy at all—in fact, you often feel lost and stuck in the mess—but life always wins in the end. It’s just a matter of having patience, persevering, and (trying) to stay optimistic.

It’s the Hero’s Journey (as I wrote in the previous article, "Dark Night of the Soul"— read it here), and on it, there are both the falls and the Mentors and Supernatural Aid that come to our rescue and bring light into the midst of darkness.

In fact, it’s precisely in these moments, when you hit rock bottom, that the light shines brighter than ever—if only we use the right eyes to see it. Just like it happened to me, sitting on that bench on May 29, 2024, surrounded by homeless people and dealers in downtown Miami. An extremely powerful moment. Spiritual.