journal

Don’t Forget Your Centre

Sometimes it’s only when you lean back in the water and be still that you realise how hard you’ve been thrashing your arms and legs about to stay afloat.

I’ve just started a new semester of teaching at university, and have been immersed in so many projects over the last few months. It’s an exciting time for me, but often I forget to invest my energy in a way that grounds and centres me, and instead I end up scattered and exhausted. We all need things that bring stability to the mind and body.

This evening, after a busy day at work, I took twenty minutes out to practice calligraphy. And now I feel calm, focused, and ready to keep walking forwards.

I’m working my way, chapter-by-chapter, through the Tao Te Ching:

The Darkness of Disbelief

At one point in my life, in fact it happened on a particular morning on a particular day in 2005, I realised I didn’t believe in God anymore. This wasn’t an intellectual thing. It was something I suddenly felt, or rather it was the lack of a feeling. Until that morning I had felt the presence of God every time I prayed, and from that morning I could no-longer feel it.

This ruptured the core of my life. It left me lost and viscerally depressed, deprived of my life’s meaning and purpose. Since my family were Christian and almost all of my friends were Christian, I also found myself feeling alone. But I could not hide from it, and I couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. I wasted no time trying to warm myself on a fire that no-longer gave heat, and I stepped out into the darkness of disbelief.

Home is inside your heart

A half-hour window of time presented itself to me, so I began some calligraphy practice, which evolved into free writing. From this play with letters and words, a phrase evolved. It represents that our balance and security needs to come from within, and that once we have found this, we become immeasurably stronger in the face of the whirlwind of things that life lays before us, or throws at us.

goodbye drugs, hello clarity

It’s easy for someone who blogs about wellbeing (especially one who’s also a Reiki teacher) to fall into a trap. It’s the trap that says I’ve made it—I’ve found inner peace, health, and everything in my life has fallen into place. But inauthenticity is like a siren: a sign that something’s wrong, and a bloody obvious sign at that. So here’s my confession.

Since I became an adult, able to choose what I do and when I do it, I’ve had an unhealthy relationship with what I put into my body. I’ve used substances as an escape, a way to hide from myself.

The most obvious thing I put into my body that has caused me trouble is alcohol. I tell myself that I need to relax, that I work myself too hard anyway, and that having a drink will help. While there is some truth to this, I’ve got a weakness, which I think runs in my family, that means I quickly get dependent on alcohol. It’s not that I binge drink, just that I find myself wanting a drink (or two, or three) every day. This isn’t necessarily a problem, except for the fact that a feeling builds up in my body—the feeling that things aren’t really well for me. When I take a break from drinking, that feeling goes away.

Since I became a non-drinker on 20th July this year, I’ve felt clearer, healthier, and that I have more energy. The only times I’ve wanted a drink since then has been with friends who are drinking, but the desire quickly passes.

But I’ve been a bit like the monk who, following the Buddhist monastic rule of no food after mid-day, decides to take up soft drinks and cigarettes, which he enjoys each afternoon. (Yes, I really met a monk that did that. He lives in Koh Chang.) He hasn’t broken any formal rule, but he has missed the spirit of the rule: refraining from ingesting certain things in order to focus on the interior life.

And what did I do to replace the alcohol? Just like him, cigarettes!

This gave me another escape. Tobacco isn’t nearly as fun as alcohol, but it still changes your state of mind, so when you don’t want to face how you truly feel, it’s a quick and easy escape. On a par with alcohol, at least for me, is its negative health effects. The hot smoke would irritate my throat, and just one cigarette would make me feel different all day, a kind of messiness in my chest. It was also psychological: feeling that I had done one damaging thing to my body in the morning would make me feel less positive throughout the day; there would be a lingering negative feeling that accompanied the lingering physical effects.

I thought I’d just have the one pouch of tobacco and then stop, but I didn’t even last that long. The rewards of smoking were just so small compared to the negative effects. And after smoking for a few weeks it became clear what I really wanted: the ability to live my life, to face my real emotions, without relying on drugs.

I smoked my last cigarette on 21st October. The next day I took a bus to the seaside, and then a ferry boat to the beautiful island of Koh Samet, where I am now. I’ve been staying on a secluded little beach with just a few other guests. Most of them (it’s surprising how many) are drinking, or smoking, or both. The beach is about relaxing, right? So alcohol and tobacco should really help. That’s the logic I always took with me on previous beach holidays, anyway. But this time, without either of those crutches, I’ve had to appreciate what’s really going on. It’s a different attitude, where I can no-longer hide away from how I really feel, because I don’t have either of those buttons to press that can make me feel different.

The fact is, I’ve been feeling quite good (except this annoying cold I came down with yesterday). Seeing the other guests smoking and drinking has made me miss both a little, but really not much at all.

On previous beach holidays I always had the option to smoke or drink, if I felt like I wanted to change my state of mind. It was like a safety net: if I’m not enjoying myself enough, or I don’t feel relaxed enough, I have an option. And being without that option means I have to experience things with more courage, because I know that even if I don’t feel the way I want to, I’m going to stay with it.

This has transformed my experience. I’ve had clarity and mindfulness in a way I’ve not had in a really long time. And I’ve felt more centred in myself, and comfortable with who I am. In some ways it’s been tough, but in the opposite way to cigarettes: cigarettes are easy, provide a pathetically small boost, and have lasting negative effects. Being free from these substances has required strength, and has provided significant improvement in my wellbeing, without any negative effects.

I used these drugs in the past because I didn’t want to be the uber-disciplined, holier-than-thou guy who didn’t know how to have fun. I wanted to be relaxed and free. Getting really drunk certainly makes you relaxed and free, but the cost for me was just too high. So now that I step out in life (back to work tomorrow!) without these crutches, please wish me well.

Why I’m quitting Facebook

When people quit Facebook, they write a list of reasons why Facebook sucks. But I’m not going to do that, because I think there’s a lot of good in Facebook. For me, it’s like opera music. I don’t think opera is bad, I don’t need to write a list of reasons why I don’t listen to it, and I don’t feel threatened that you like opera. But yeah, that’s right, I don’t listen to opera music.

But because Facebook has become a big part of our lives, I think it’s fair that I give it some respect and try to explain why I’ve just downloaded all my account data and am about to shut-down my personal profile. Here goes.

Everything in our lives both gives energy to us and requires some of our energy in return. So to listen to music I need to invest in audio equipment (headphones, speakers etc.) as well as buy the music itself. That’s energy, because money needs to be earned. Of course if I listen to music on the radio, I don’t pay with my money, I pay with my attention to adverts. Torrenting requires minimal energy (just the time to find a good torrent), and that’s why it feels like stealing: asking for something for almost nothing.

Some things give us so much and ask for so little: positive relationships or good music, for example. Some things seem more of an even balance: I have to do physical exercise if I want a healthy body, and doing regular exercise sometimes feels like a job. But the feeling of well-being is so worth it. Some things seem like a poor deal: a relationship that gets you down, or a job that sucks away your life in return for mere money.

Facebook gives me connection with friends, which is immensely valuable, but it asks a lot in terms of my attention. There are so many adverts, and they even put these inside my feed. That’s a big negative for me. The feed itself is also crammed with a lot of noise, and it takes time to find the good stuff.

For me—and this is a very personal decision—I felt Facebook was asking for too much of my attention. But walking away, like walking away from any relationship, is not easy at all. I will miss connecting with you on Facebook. I will miss your photos. I will miss your little bits of news that let me know how you’re doing and how your life is progressing. So please don’t be a stranger, because it’s Facebook I’m giving up, not my relationship with you.

I check my email six days a week, and it’s the best way to get in touch with me. I love email. Send me a quick email now (my address is listed on my facebook about page) so I can save your email address.
When I close my Facebook profile it will be converted to a Facebook page. If you’re my Facebook friend now, you’ll automatically be made a follower of that page. I don’t know what that page is going to be like, I just know it’s going to be there.
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