A few days ago I remembered a phrase I heard countless times during my childhood and adolescence while practicing Shitō-Ryū karate in Puebla:
How joyful it is to paddle, forgetting everything, towards the island of art.
Phrase remembered by the author during his training in Shitō-Ryū karate
For years I didn't really understand its meaning. For me, as for many young people, the goal was to get there: get the next belt, win the next tournament, be selected, show that I could live up to it.
I started karate at age six. I spent much of my childhood and adolescence inside a dojo. I was fortunate to learn from great masters, including Reyna Varela and, on some occasions, from master Koichi Choda Watanabe. I also shared workouts with people who would later become referents of Mexican sport, such as Yadira Lira.
At fourteen or fifteen I got the black ribbon. Later I was selected to aspire to an opportunity in the CNAR. My sister, Pamela Mateos, managed to continue that path for a few years. I took a different route.
Life forced me to choose.
I wanted to study. I wanted to build a professional future. I needed to work to sustain my studies in International Relations. Gradually, karate ceased to occupy the central place it had held for more than a decade.
For a long time I thought I had abandoned that path.
Today I think I was wrong.
Over the years I discovered that many of the things I learned in the dojo were still present in my daily life: discipline, perseverance, the ability to move forward when results are slow to arrive and the willingness to continue even when no one is watching.
Those lessons took me to the world of entrepreneurship, technology, software development, community building, and the projects that are part of my life today.
However, I also dragged something else along: the permanent feeling that it was never enough.
For a long time I lived chasing the next goal, the next project, the next release, the next achievement. Always convinced that the satisfaction was a little ahead.
Perhaps that's why that phrase came back to my memory after so many years.
Because I understood that the island of art was never a place to reach.
This (Quran) is a guidance.
It's the act of still paddling.
Keep creating, keep paddling
Today I still have huge dreams.
I want to build projects that help people. I want to create useful and accessible technology. I want to show that Mexico can develop ideas capable of impacting global communities. I want to keep learning. I want to keep growing.
But I also want to learn something that has been hard for me for a long time: to appreciate the journey as it happens.
Everything I have done, I have done with love.
Although many times there has been no real economic benefit, and although sometimes the effort has been much greater than any material reward, I am deeply proud of the community we have built.
I am proud of every person who has believed, participated, opined, shared, tested, supported or simply been present.
Beyond numbers, metrics, or any external outcome, what we have achieved together has enormous value to me.
Because a community is not built only with technology.
It is built with confidence, patience, mistakes, learning and affection.
To those who have accompanied the path
I also want to thank my romantic partner, Guillermo Rosete, who has accompanied me on this adventure called life. Their presence, support and company have been an important part of this journey, especially at times when it has not been easy to keep paddling.
Nothing I have built would have made the same sense without the people who have accompanied me.
To those who have used my apps.
To those who have read my articles.
To those who have trusted in my projects.
To those who have corrected me when I was wrong.
To those who have been present from the beginning and those who have barely arrived.
Thank you.
Many times we talk about communities as if they were numbers, metrics or users. But behind every interaction is a real person who decided to spend a few minutes of their time on something we built.
That should never be taken for granted.
I don't know exactly where the future will take me.
I still have more questions than answers.
I still have goals that seem impossible.
There are still days when I feel like I haven't done enough.
But if karate taught me anything, it's that it's not always about getting there first.
Sometimes it's just a matter of keeping paddling.
And as long as I have the strength to do so, I will keep moving forward
Thanks for taking this journey with me,
Community reaction
Reader responses are moderated for relevance, sourcing, and civility. Expert comments from verified professionals are elevated with context.