Heard

Last night I had the privilege of attending a men's group in Melbourne. There is something happening with men that I think is important and special. It has been going on for quite some time thanks to conversations encouraged by people like Robert Bly, Joseph Campbell, Steve Biddulph, and Brene Brown. Men are tapping into different parts of themselves, the full range of their experience, from vulnerability to wildness, and learning how to express this.

Over the past few days I have been in listening mode. I have interviewed some people for my podcast. I have caught up with friends. And each interaction has somehow led to me doing more listening than talking.

I am okay with this. I like listening and think I am reasonably skilled at it. However sometimes I know I need to talk. And last night, after listening to some of the other men, I knew I needed to talk.

So I talked. About grief and pain and what I had been feeling over the past week and the past 18 months.

And to my joy and soothing, they held space for me. They listened. Allowed me to cry and curse and splutter my torrent of emotions. They did not try to offer suggestions. They did not try to take the pain away. They did not try to fix anything.

Sometimes that is all that is needed. To give somebody the gift of talking themselves out. Talking without logic or coherence or request. I like offering that to others. I like receiving that for myself.

Being here now

Having let people know that I am writing a blog, and getting some positive feedback about it, I find myself in a strange state of not wanting to write. I feel nervous that people I know are going to read about me. The veil of anonymity was liberating for my writing. Added to this I have felt quite lethargic and low over the past few weeks.

So today I have decided to write how I feel, regardless of this reluctance to write and my burning desire to alt+tab away from this page and check facebook/soundcloud/gmail (which I have just done anyway).

Today I feel sad. I miss my boys. I feel lonely. I really want to start working and earning an income again.

I am working, but the money is not yet coming in. I did a podcast interview this morning which went really well, but at the same time depleted my energy. I did some work on my mint business which was great, but that is still months away from brining in revenue.

I walk around my house and it seems big and empty. I feel disconnected even through I am spending more time on facebook than I ever have. 

This may be the most depressing post I have written. What am I to do?

It is simple really. I think most of the solutions to most of the problems are simple. I need to reach out to people. To take the first step to connect and talk and ask for help. I'm off to call a friend. Thanks for reading.

Writing Fling #7: Climbing to think

Part seven of free writing in 2015. Some familiar themes I am still processing today.

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Oh how he could climb. Anything. Trees. Rocks. Mountains. Sofas. Houses. He seemed to have an inbuilt desire to mount the things he saw. To move over them. To reach their summit. Or perhaps it was a desire to get to know something more intimately, to become closer to being one with it. To feel it with his whole body.

When he climbed a tree he love the feeling of being hugged by the branches. Of being wedged between trunk and branch, and being gently caressed by the leaves. He loved the smell, and looking up through the canopy to the flickering sunlight.

He would often climb as close to the top as he could, and sit there for an hour. Rocking with the wind and contemplating all that passed through his mind.

It was up there that he first encountered her: Peace. Tranquility. He feel in love with her, and began to understand the important, crucial role she had to play in his life. The calling to a higher purpose. Of stillness. Of assertiveness. Of beauty and longing.

As he sat up there today he enjoyed the sun on his shoulders as he sat astride a strong branch. He was smiling and rocking slightly. He was starting to comprehend some deep truths about the nature of things. He was realising that there was not other option for him any more. He was going to have to live large. The days of playing safe were diminishing. It was time to amplify himself. To be bolder by the day. Not from a place of bravado or ego. Beyond ego - from his depths. And not for anybody else. On the contrary: for himself. He was just now able to tune into his most authentic part - his soul - his loins - his conscience. 

He was able to hear that voice with more clarity, more consistently. He was also developing the courage to follow what he heard.

He noticed that as he did this, he felt like he was hitting some groove. Finding some rhythm, or at least hearing it and moving to it.

Life was somehow easier. Not because it was more comfortable or predictable or safe. But because he was flowing with the twists and turns, and not against them.

Looking responsible

I used to go to church every Sunday, and while there was a lot of not so sound thinking coming from the pulpit, every now and then there was a pearl. 

One particular Sunday a travelling preacher made a comment that has stuck with me to this day. The comment was along the lines of, as we get older, every one of us is in a large way responsible for the way we look.

I was a teenager around the time that I heard this; a time when I was incredibly self-conscious about the way I looked. I had pimples and my body was changing. I did not like the way I looked, and at the time I did not want to think that I was responsible for this.

As I think about that comment now, I realise that at this point in my life it is true - the way I look, and how healthy I am, is in a big part because of the decisions I have made. I am responsible for the way I look.

There are so many ways the decisions we make impact on how we look: the job we choose; the food we eat; the way we move; the scars we have; the plastic surgeon we choose.

Something I realised recently is that even the lines on my face I am responsible for. I meditate regularly, and have become aware of different poses I hold on my face, usually in an unconscious way. I have a particularly big furrow between my eyes, however when I am relaxed and free of anxiety, this furrow disappears.

I don't think that we are responsible for every part of the way we look today. Obviously genes, tragedy, and the actions of other have an impact. But I find it useful and empowering to think that I have some responsibility, and therefore control, over the way I look from this point onwards.

The moment before

People usually fail when they are on the verge of success. So give as much care to the end as to the beginning. Then there will be no failure. 

 -- Tao Te Ching - Lao Tzu

I have learnt that those moments when I feel the most stress, the most desire to give up, the most confused, and the most dispondent, these are the feelings that always come just before a big breakthrough.  

The irony is that they are also the moments when it is easiest to stop and give up, to declare failure.  

Noticing the feelings; calling bullshit on my rationalisations that tells me I have gone backwards; allowing myself to thrash in any way I see fit; and being curious about what is emerging: These are my personal best tools in enabling me to cling on in those moments. 

And then, in a moment, something changes. I meet somebody. I understand something. Something clicks. And the thing I was so worried about moments before now seems mundane. And I have come to a deeper understanding of myself and my existence.  

Learnings from a gap year

A few random thoughts after taking a gap year as a 38 year old, for those who are not 21 and are thinking about giving it a go. 

The hardest moment will be the day you quit your job, and the day after that. It took me three goes to finally resign, and the next day I had a meltdown. 12 months later I think it is the most necessary thing I have done in my life to this point. 

Take all the time you need. It takes time to realise that the things you thought were absolutes are nothing more than choices. 

It will definitely take a long time to get something new started. It took me 6 months to allow myself to hear what I really wanted to do, and to then trust myself to give it a go. It took another 6 months to get them started. And I think it will take at least 6 more months to get them earning revenue. I don't think this means it is too long - I am grateful to be heading in a direction congruent with who I am. 

Talk, move, think. I spent time connecting in a new way with my old friends, and making new friends. I found out what I needed to get me into the physical condition I wanted. And I spent time writing, reading and pondering. 

Give random things a go, like menial jobs, morning rituals, going to meet ups, travelling to bizzarrre places. I did some contracting work, travelled to Costa Rica, and learnt improv comedy. Anything new and out of our comfort zones can stimulate amazing ideas. 

Have some kind of framework in place to help structure the year. For me this was a 7 month, low contact hours entrepreneurial course.  

You don't need as much income as you think. Of course it helps to have some money saved up to give your gap year flexibility and remove financial pressures. One of the good things I have learnt is that I need much less stuff than I thought I did, and I actually feel happier without them. 

This time with with awareness

I am on the footy field. I am 15 years old and I play for Research, the perennial strugglers who never seem to win a game. 

It is the last quarter and we are are close as we have ever been to a top team - 24 points down. Something comes over me. I start firing-up my teammates. Calling them by name. Telling them that we can do this. To believe. To find that extra bit of effort that hides behind their fear.

The ball is launched into the air by the umpire, our ruckman taps it in my direction. I gather, arch my back as I evade the lunging hand of the opposition, sprint away and launch a massive kick into our forward line. I feel elated and expressive and that I am being who I am, totally unencumbered, living in the moment.

I am in a meeting room. I am 22 years old, and I work at PWC, the consulting firm who only employ the best of the best and who win at everything.

The project is not going well, but the client doesn't know it. I know there is something to be said. I know that it will not be popular. It will be better for the client, and in the end better for PWC. And certainly better for myself. I know we can work together to make it happen. But I don't talk. I sit and nod. I comply with my manager.

I return to my desk slowly. I have a strange sad feeling about me. I feel constrained, repressed and like I am living within myself. I look around at my team mates. They look drained. Unhealthy. Well-paid and unhappy.

I am in my home. I am 38. I sit at my desk to type of blog post about what is going on for me in this moment. It is not always pretty or coherent. It is not earning me the big bucks. I feel energised and awake and liberated.

It has taken me 16 years; I am now doing with consciousness what I was, as a 15 year old, doing spontaneously.

Doing the work in front of me

Sometimes my anxiety takes me to a place where I am thinking about the work I can't yet do.

Like right now I need to find some new guests for my podcast so I can continue to release an episode each week. I am starting to get worried that I am not going to have an interview to publish as I cannot seem to talk with the people I want to get on the show.

Then I sit down and think about it for a minute: I actually have people around me right now who would be great for the show, and are willing to be interviewed.

Therefore I will do the interview that is in front of me now, and not worry about the interview I cannot get for the future.

The over-prepared

'...the art of maximizing the amount of work not done...' -- Agile Manifesto

I have a strong tendency to do more work than I need to. I do this in small ways and large, and I call it over-preparing.

As a small example, when I arrive home I tend to get my keys out of my pocket (or bag) about 20 metres before I am at my front door. There is no need for me to get the keys out this early before I get to the door. I could get them out 5 metres from the door without having any delay between walking and putting the key into the lock, or even, as shockingly inefficient as it would be, reaching and stopping at my front door before reaching for my keys.

But for some reason I think that having 15 metres of preparation is essential, despite the increased risk of dropping the keys and tripping over because I am thinking about the keys instead of walking (admittedly small risks, but it is surprising how often I do drop the keys).

I am sure I do this in larger ways as well, and I started wondering what I am actually doing. In the words of a friend of mine, I am not sure if it is a bug or a feature, but it would seem to me that I am doing work before it actually needs to be done, therefore increasing the likelihood that I am doing work unnecessarily.

I think it comes down to wanting to feel like I am being productive and efficient and doing, whereas some moments don't require that, and I would be better off staying with the moment and being in the moment.

Time to stop typing, and to have a cup of tea.

Writing Fling #6: Am I able?

A timely piece from last year when I was travelling in Chicago. Timely as I am currently having a moment of wondering if I can do it, and it is encouraging to remember that I knew I would hit these kind of moments.

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Am I able to pull it off? To allow myself to be all I can be? To remove the limits? To plunge the depths and live according to what I find there?

The truth is, I think I can. I am on a path now and I need to keep on it. The project as started, and there is no compromise. There is something deep within me that wants expression. That needs to be realised, to be lived. I trust this impulse. I listen to this impulse. It is drawing me, calling me on. To go harder. Not to try harder, but to listen harder, to act more authentically. To stop and pause and wait and watch and wonder. To believe that what is in there is good and worthy. That its manifestation will be beneficial to all beings, including myself.

This is a moment by moment proposition. Of being curious. Of laughing. Of trying and failing and learning and trying again. Sometimes this will be hard. I will feel unworthy. Like I should know better. Like my experience is not good enough. Like I should have prepared more.

I will want to plan things. Line things up. Put a filter on my reality, seeing it as I want it to be rather than how it is. Or wishing it was something other than what it is.

Take this city, Chicago and my experience of it as an example. I don't seem to get this city yet. I am not in sync with it. I want it to be like my San Francisco experience, where I found an awesome neighbourhood to walk around. I am searching for that place, that feeling. I want to be able to tell that story to my friends. Perhaps Chicago is not like that. Perhaps it has something else to offer. And I think I am missing it because I wish it was something else. It may have something beautiful for me if I am willing to see it as it is.

That is my aim, intention, for today. To be aware of this city. To hear, smell, feel, taste and see it as it is. To understand its energy, its vibe, and what it has for me.

Where am I rushing to be anyway?

I am walking along a footpath and get to the traffic lights. There is a graphic of a red person telling me that it is not my time to cross the road. I feel agitated. I look up and down the road impatiently. No cars. I hurry across, feeling a sense of guilt at being naughty and elation at saving myself 20 seconds. 

I get a bit further down the road and I think, saved myself 20 seconds of what? Of waiting time? Of time to stop and think? Where am I hoping to be 20 seconds faster? At the shop? On my couch? In front of my TV?

I start to wonder why I feel like I need to be just a bit faster than what the world seems to be allowing me to be. Because if I really needed the 20 seconds I saved to make all the difference in my day, then I have some larger questions that need asking and answering. 

The answer is not clear to me, but as I ponder this thought I notice all the small ways I rush: cutting the vegetables; folding the clothes; typing the blog. Something inside me does not want to accept some of these moments as they are.  

My task is to notice the times I am rushing, and to deliberately take a deep breath and go slow. And to observe the results. 

Contingency

I love the concept of contingency, which I recently have understood in its full richness. 

I am in the process of redeeming many of the words I first learnt in the context of IT consulting, and hence much meaning and beauty were taken away from them. In that environment contingency meant the amount budgeted time and money we kept up our sleeve for a project rainy day.

I now understand some more of what this word means, and I love that it speaks of things that could happen, but it is unknown if they will ever happen; the probability of them occurring is unknown. My new understand is so beautiful because it means that the life we see around us is the result of contingency. Nothing that has happened necessarily had to happen, but by chance it did, and it is here.

We don't exactly know how unique or special our planet, our species, our individual lives are, but they seem to be pretty remarkable. It is amazing that we are here. That we are aware we are here. And indeed all life is precious and sacred.

May all beings be well. May all beings be happy. May all beings live with ease.

Laundry List #19: Everyone lies, cheats, pretends (Yes, you too, and most certainly myself)

And so, it is not astonishing that, though the patient enters therapy insisting that he wants to change, more often than not, what he really wants is to remain the same and to get the therapist to make him feel better. -- Sheldon Kopp
 

I love the text in brackets in this cutting laundry list item from Sheldon Kopp. As I start to read it I find myself nodding and thinking 'Yes, so true, I know so many people that lie and cheat and pretend', and then I keep reading and have to face the sinking reality that this also applies to me.

And this didn't just happen the first time I read it. It happens every time I read it. I don't want to admit that I lie, cheat and pretend. Aren't I better than that? That is for the less enlightened, not me. But the truth is that I do. I want to present myself in the best possible light and will sometimes pretend to be that which is not me. I make lies of omission so that the truth as it is presented makes me seem a bit more appealing than I actually am. I cut corners in my morning rituals, hoping that nobody will notice.

I certainly don't do these things in an obviously destructive way, and all in all I think I am an ethical person, somebody who is honest and open and believes that their are not shortcuts. In fact lying is necessary in many cases - it can be social grease and a developmental stage that children need to reach. 

What then is the purpose of acknowledge this? That we all lie, cheat and pretend?

Firstly I think it is so we are not deluded and naive that others present themselves exactly as they are all the time. That they do lie about things sometimes. That they do try and cheat the system. That they pretend to have done things they have not. Being aware that people do this from time to time actually helps as we interact with others, and can stop us from being duped and hurt.

Secondly acknowledging that I also do this helps to keep me humble, and to keep me working on understanding the reasons why I think that even a small deception is necessary. What does that reveal about what is going on inside me? What am I hiding, and who am I hiding it from?

Noticing the small lies, cheats, and pretends helps me to get closer to becoming aware and awake to how, where, and what I actually am.

For me, they boil down to this

When I think about intimate relationships, for me the crux of it all boils down to this:

1) Am I willing to allow the other person to be exactly as they are, to accept and love them for their whole person, over the course of this relationship?

2) Am I willing to explore and express my whole person, to be true to myself over the course of this relationship?

3) Am I fully accepted and loved by the other person as I reveal more of who I am over the course of this relationship?

In the early days of a relationship it is very easy to naively say 'Yes' to these three questions. And it doesn't matter if the relationship started in your 20s, or 70s, or whether it is your 1st of 10th. It is always the same feeling of elation and optimism, and perhaps without it no relationship would ever start.

As time rolls on there will inevitably come more than one moment when your partner shows you part of who they are, and you don't like it. In fact you are repulsed by it. And correspondingly there will come a moment when you want to reveal part of who you are, and there is a risk that your partner will not accept it because it is not who they think you are or want you to be.

For me that is the true test of a relationship: that moment of seeing and accepting the other, and seeing and revealing ourselves.

Forms of existence and being

I recently discovered Oliver Sacks and am making my way through his memoir On The Move. Sacks is a physician and author, and two of his famous books are Awakenings (also a movie and documentary) and The Man who Mistook is Wife for at Hat.

There are two central ideas that I have loved from the book. The first is about his approach to working with patients. He writes that he could never consider the symptoms presented to him by a patient without the context of who they were and how they lived. He would always spend time talking with his patients to understand as much about them as possible, which enable him to provide much better insights into their life and condition than making a quick assessment based on what they told  him in the first 2 minutes.

This idea fits in very nicely with another book I am reading called The Systems View of Life by Fitjof Capra and Pier Luigi Luisi.

The second central idea is the way he thinks about how his patients experience existence, and not considering things like autism and encephalitis solely as conditions to be one day fixed, but also as alternative ways of being and perceiving with their own positives and negatives.

I love that idea - it makes me think that my 'normal' way of experiencing the world could in fact be impaired in some ways. We know there is much of the light spectrum that humans cannot see; many sounds we cannot hear. What else am I unable to perceive and do that other people, some who are with us now and potentially lifeforms of the future, may be able to perceive and do? How much less than I thought I knew do I actually know?

Writing Fling #5: Essence of coffee; diluted by tears

Fifth instalment in a writing experiment from 2015.

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I cry. Into my coffee cup. Almost empty now. Cafe almost empty now. I sit. Alone. Almost depleted now. Almost exhausted now.

Essence of coffee; diluted by tears.

Bitter. Invigorating. Annoying and artificial in its invigoration. Temporary relief. Temporary mask of feelings. Tears bring reality. Tears bring their own relief. Natural relief. Healing relief.

Moving into and towards the pain, uncertainty and fear. Moving there because of it. Because of what it is showing, indicating, highlighting. It is saying, 'This is the thing to explore. Don't mask it. Don't deny it. Sit with. Feel. Feel. Feel. Explore. Understand.'

It may take years, and then the smallest sentence in the smallest conversation may unlock the truth. The truth you have allowed yourself to explore more each day through going through the pain.

Head bowed. Hands on forehead. It is time to go. 

Essence of coffee; diluted by tears.

I drink it. Salty and bitter. Coffee should not be sweet, should not be easy to drink. Tears should not be sweet, easy to cry.

I pick up the newspaper, pay for my stay, and head out onto the street. It is cold, and raining, as a cliche would anticipate.

I put my cap on. Not sure what to do next I walk to the left. Slowly, without purpose.

I find a seat near a grassy reserve. The sun is coming out and the rain is stopping. I lower my hat over my eyes and turn my face to the warming sun. It feels nourishing. I may end up being okay. I may live again. I may love again. 

I feel wet from the rain and warm from the sun. I still have a legacy. My experience will not leave me. It will be transformed over time. Renewed. Reinterpreted.

Leadership of self

Warning: Football references forthcoming...

There are two aspects of leadership I am learning about.

The first is leading yourself before you can lead anybody else. I was struck by this when reading about the Carlton Football club, where they have introduce a separate training group for players that are not up to scratch with their body measurements and fitness. They are not allowed to be part of the main group until they are up to scratch themselves. 

The second is, once you know how to lead yourself, to start to use your voice and lead others. In an article I can longer find, Andrew Walker from Carlton talks about the need for players to speak up when it is their turn, to lead others with what they see as true.

You can lead others without being able to lead yourself, however your effectiveness and integrity are diminished. You can lead yourself without leading others, but your influence and development is diminished. 

I am starting with leading myself: through awareness, how I look after and think about myself, and understanding and following my purpose. Now that I have got a good enough grasp of this, I think I am ready to effectively lead others and speak up about what I see as true.

What I am trying to say.....is thank you

Thank you for taking my call when I was at my lowest.

Thank you for giving me space to cry.

Thank you for hugging me.

Thank you for sending me a book.

Thank you for allowing me to feel my grief and sadness.

Thank you for having me over for pizza and TV on a Friday night.

Thank you for showing me how things are in your home, without filters.

Thank you for helping me to laugh.

Thank you for listening to my stranger than fiction stories, and being engrossed in my telling them.

Thank you for reassuring me that I would be okay.

Thank you for making me breakfast when I was not able to do so for myself.

Thank you for moving towards me when you saw my open heart.

Thank you for supporting me as a father.

Thank you for giving of yourself, even though I hurt you in return.

Thank you for being my father, my mother, my brother, my sister, my friend.

Thank you for loving me and helping me re-understand what friendship is.

Thank you for reminding me of all that is good inside me, and that I will grow and be stronger.

Not one of you could have been this for me alone. But all of you together have been more than enough. 

2015 Writing Fling #4: A letter I have never written

A fiction piece from last year's free writing.

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I am sitting. My desk is one of my favourite places in the world. I lean gently back into my leather chair. It creaks. I feel at ease. This is my place. The back of the chair is moulded to mine. 20 years of thought, contemplation and writing.

I pick up my pen. Not this very ben, but I have used pens like this one for 20 years. They have become an extension of my brain. Thoughts flow down my neck, through my shoulder and arm, into my hand and seep onto the page through the ink.

I always write on paper. Somehow the process is altered through the keyboard and screen. My feelings become diminished, harsh, rectangular. The pen and paper allow for free expression.

I am writing a letter. I have my glasses on and I have made a start.

Dear Emily

It is with some regret that I sit to write this letter to you.

I tilt my head as I ponder what to write next. Emily does not actually exist, but the feelings I need to convey certainly do. She is a part of me; a part of my internal make-up.

I have expected too much of you. Tried to make you my reason for living. My salvation. This is more than any one person can bear for another.

I am 60.

And I may just be becoming an adult, a man. Thank God we get a lifetime. Thank God for getting older.

When I was 30 I wanted to be 20. Now I am more than happy to be the age I am. I now find it bizarre that older age is shunned in our culture, although if you do look you can find nuggets of truth.

Old age is your glory. You have lived, formed woulds and scars. You have done, acted, imprinted. And all those things are good regardless of what they were or what others said about them.

They have brought you to this moment. This moment of realising. 

Indeed I am responsible for my life; me alone. I decide what is important, and sometimes this will mean disappointing others. I have become comfortable with this, and how, dear Emily, it is you I must disappoint.

I know that part of you liked being my reason to live. Part of you enjoys the control that brings. This has ended.

We will still see each other and may even be friends. But this will be different now.

I will allow you to feel this.

Adam.

Writing Fling #3: Sentimental Shadow

Part 3 of last year's free writing experiment.

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Sentimentalism. The Brady Bunch. Why do we need to pretend that things are prefect? They never will be, never are. I feel angry. My heart sinks at sentimentalisms. Let's be real. Let's get real. Feel. Talk. No more bullshit. STOP PRETENDING!

Yes, my life is not what you want. Kind of not what I want either, although that is changing. But there is still good in my life, and there is bad in yours. The shadow is everywhere - one for each thing. Let's not dress it up in creepy circus clothes, covering it with cheap make-up and cheaper costumes.

I want to be free! There is a pain in my side that represents all I am not free of. I know I am holding onto something, but what? How do I work it out? 'In time', I hear my teacher say. The body knows, and will reveal its secrets in time. My job is to acknowledge what is there, what exists, without judgement or denial. 

It is there for a reason. There because I put it there. I has served me a purpose, and perhaps it sill is. It will reveal itself at the right time.

In the mean time what do I do? I continue in what I have learnt to date. The daily practises. The ongoing learning. The movement towards others, towards my depth.

I feel my humour coming back or perhaps I am expressing it for the first time. Part of me does not feel sorrow. Part of me has moved on. Maybe even humour is learnt: Through life experiences; through effort; through letting go; through responding to each moment as it is rather than drawing upon a pre-prepared laugh, line or lunge.

It is a risk, living moment by moment. It requires trust in oneself. Trust that I am enough. That I have lived. That I have wits. That I am smart and sassy. 

And I am.