For a long time, I believed that engagement had to feel natural. That if I didn’t instinctively care about something, that meant it wasn’t for me—like when I struggled to focus in my economics class despite knowing it was important, or when I couldn’t get excited about a book everyone else loved. If I had to convince myself to engage, or if motivation wasn’t immediate, I was better off doing something else, often nothing else.
But through my current gap year experiences climbing mountains and teaching skiing, I’ve discovered that this assumption isn’t true at all.
Interests are developed through engagement, not innately, like a muscle that strengthens with repeated use. And happiness—even self-pride—comes from deep engagement, regardless of how I get there.
Engagement isn’t just about paying attention—it’s full participation, real investment, and resisting the easy pull of distraction. It’s being fully in it rather than just near it.
Sometimes, focused engagement comes in different forms:
- Through curiosity—like when a book’s topic or writing captures my interest
- Through community—when people I trust encourage me to try something new
- Through personal discipline—deliberately pushing past my initial resistance until I find flow
Other times, I engage because of outside influence. If a group of people that I love and trust convince me to try something new—something I wouldn’t have chosen on my own.
Occasionally, I will put my head down and engage out of my own volition, for example, reading a book that caught my eye. Letting impulses to stop or check my phone pass, I will find it, 30 or 40 pages in, the interest, energy, and engagement. An engagement that can flow freely because I developed interest by pushing past my impulses. Either way, the outcome is the same; an interested me is a happier, better version of me.
I never regret engaging. But I always regret the times I let impulse take over. Like when I abandoned that challenging physics book after just five pages—even though the concepts had fascinated me—simply because social media seemed easier in the moment. Letting an opportunity pass makes me feel guilty, as if I’ve lost something valuable.
This had never been more obvious than when considering the stark difference between my first two back-to-back experiences in my gap year: my time in the Himalayas and my ski instructor training in Switzerland.
The Himalayas: A Community That Made Engagement Inevitable
For 40 days, I trekked through the Himalayas as part of a small mountaineering expedition team, navigating challenging terrain and extreme conditions that demanded complete focus. We lived together, moved together, ate together, and relied on each other. Every action mattered; we were a single integrated community.
If someone wasn’t paying attention, it wasn’t just their problem—it was the team’s. When everyone is connected with rope, when mistakes could cause serious injury, and when a misstep could send you sliding down a mountain, attention is crucial—it is necessary to protect the group. If someone struggled, we all slowed down. If someone didn’t show up fully, the whole group felt it, literally. Engagement wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity.
Because of that, focus felt effortless.
There was no second-guessing, no wavering. No distractions pulling me away, no sleeping in. I didn’t wake up debating whether I felt like showing up that day. I just did. I had to.
The environment created the ease of engagement in me. And I thrived in it. I wasn’t just engaged—I was fully present, fully committed, and deeply content.
Switzerland: A Community That Pulled in the Opposite Direction
After my Himalayan expedition, I spent ten weeks in the Swiss town of Verbier, training to become a certified ski instructor—an environment with completely different expectations and structures.
At its core, it was about personal improvement, a stark contrast to the Himalayas’ integrated community approach to trekking together. My skiing. My teaching. My ability to refine and develop my skills. While we did it in a community centered around fun, exciting, like-minded people, ski instructors’ engagement wasn’t necessary. If you didn’t show up for a reason to be there—whether to improve your skiing or give your best to the students—that’s on you. No one was counting on you except yourself.
It was a shared experience, yes—but one built on individual goals. If I wasn’t engaged, if I wasn’t focused, no one else suffered but me. And yet, this community, from a place of love and caring, generated a different kind of member expectation—one that didn’t reinforce focus and diligence, but indulgence, making the most of our time in the snow, in the sun, with our mates, and in our nights out.
There was an unspoken social contract.
We skied together. We trained together. And then—we went out together. Apres, dinners, nights out. It was never forced, never required. But it was the rhythm of the group. And saying no wasn’t easy. Not because anyone pressured me directly, but because it felt like choosing not to participate in the full experience, in a way, was letting them down (or missing out).
This is what I started to realize: Not all community expectations push us toward engagement. Some pull us into distraction.
In the Himalayas, engagement wasn’t optional. It was expected. It was reinforced.
In Switzerland, indulgence felt like it wasn’t optional. It was expected. It was reinforced.
This contrast between my two major gap year experiences to date revealed something crucial about engagement. Both shaped my experience, but in completely different ways.
The False Signal of “I Don’t Want to Be Here”
This is when I really started thinking about what makes engagement easy and what makes it feel impossible.
Because for years, I’ve mistaken impulse for disinterest. I used to believe that when I didn’t want to do something, it meant it wasn’t for me.
But now I see that “I don’t want to be here” is just an impulse disguised as disinterest. It’s not that I don’t care—it’s that caring takes effort.
For me, effort is harder when:
- There’s no structure reinforcing engagement.
- The people around me expect distraction over focus.
- I have to rely entirely on self-motivation instead of external responsibility.
In the Himalayas, effort was automatic.
In Switzerland, effort was something I had to actively choose several times each day.
And when self-motivation wasn’t enough, impulse took over. Not because I didn’t care, but because I hadn’t built a system to stay engaged in my environment. Simply showing up in an environment of distraction and hoping for engagement, wasn’t doing it for me.
This is when I really started thinking about what makes engagement easy or seemingly impossible—and how being my best self depends entirely on cultivating the right conditions for deep focus.
What This Means for Me (and Anyone Like Me)
I now understand why I get deeply engaged in some things and struggle with others. It’s not just about natural interest. It’s not just about discipline. It’s about structure and expectations.
When I am relied upon, I engage fully, like when I was responsible for navigating a particularly treacherous mountain pass. When I am surrounded by focus, I focus naturally, as I did during our daily mountaineering briefings. When engagement is expected, I don’t second-guess it—I just do it, as when our Himalaya trekking team depended on each other for safety.
But when I lack external structure, I have to fight harder to engage—and that’s when I cave to impulse.
So the real question isn’t just “What do I want to engage in?”
It’s “How do I structure my world so that engagement happens naturally?”
Looking Ahead to Take Action Lab
As I prepared to leave for Take Action Lab (TAL)—a program that brings young change-makers together to work on real-world social impact projects while living in community—I found myself thinking about everything I’ve learned about engagement, motivation, and the environments that have shaped me.
This program will bring together community living, shared purpose, and real-world impact—a structure that naturally fosters engagement.
We won’t just be working side by side—we’ll be living together, learning together, showing up for each other.
Beyond our cohort, we’ll be showing up for:
- Our new friends in this select TAL cohort.
- The nonprofits we’ll be working for.
- The individual community members we’ll be serving.
The work demands our best efforts, attention, and care.
This is the kind of environment where my best self thrives.
There will be opportunities to share experiences outside of structured work—over dinner, in conversations late into the night, and in the collective energy of people committed to the same purpose.
But what excites me most is that this is an environment designed for engagement.
Unlike Verbier, where external expectations subtly pulled me a million different ways, this will be a place where external expectations reinforce focus, contribution, and purpose.
Unlike the Himalayas, where engagement was about survival, this will be about service—showing up not just for myself but for others in a way that creates lasting impact.
As I enter this experience, I do so with a deeper understanding of myself.
I now know how environments shape my choices and impulse control; that being relied upon makes me more accountable; and
that deep engagement—whether self-driven or externally structured—is what brings out the best in me.
So, as I start Take Action Lab, I won’t just be showing up—I’ll be actively building on what I’ve learned.
Because when I set myself up for success and when I create the right conditions, engagement happens naturally.
And that’s always the best, most profound version of me.
Final Thought: What Environment Are You Creating for Yourself?
The environments we choose—or don’t choose—shape who we become.
So, ask yourself: Are you in a structure that makes engagement easy? Or are you in one that makes impulse feel inevitable?
Take a moment to consider: What environment are you creating for yourself? Is it pulling you toward distraction or pushing you toward focus? The quality of your engagement—and perhaps your life—depends on your answer.
Because once you understand how deeply your surroundings impact your choices, you can start designing a world where showing up isn’t just a battle of willpower.
It becomes who you are.
– Thomas Growney
Co-founder, Service Academy
About our Gap Year Journey
We’re Ryan and Thomas Growney, twin brothers and co-founders of Service Academy.
After graduating from St. George’s School in Rhode Island, we’ve embarked on a gap year to explore how different cultures approach problem understanding, community engagement, service, and social innovation.
Our journey will take us to various countries, including South Africa, where we’ll participate in the Tilting Futures program, and the Himalayas, where we’ll be joining the NOLS for a high-altitude mountaineering challenge. Throughout this year, we aim to challenge our assumptions, broaden our perspectives, and gather insights that will help us enhance our approach to social impact back home.
Ryan is particularly interested in scaling service initiatives to develop young leaders, while Thomas focuses on the personal connections and community belonging that service creates. By sharing our experiences, we hope to contribute to a broader dialogue about service, mentorship, community engagement, and cross-cultural learning.
We invite you to follow along on our journey, engage with our reflections, and share your own insights about service in diverse contexts.
Together, we can work towards creating more meaningful and impactful youth service ecosystems that benefit both young people and their communities.