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.

Benefits of the hardest route

I do love a good sports analogy, and one that has stuck with me is based around rugby and something the coach of the Melbourne Storm said a few years ago.

In rugby most of the really big, strong and heavy people are in the front and middle of the field, with the faster and more nibble either behind them or on the edges. When attacking, it is often tempting for the team with the ball to go wide and try and break through where it would seem there is less resistance.

Melbourne Storm's approach was different. They would attack the pack in the middle of the field, where the opposition were apparently strongest and most difficult to break through. Their rationale was that if they could break down the opposition where they were strongest they would tear them to shreds and score prolifically. This proved to be a very successful tactic for the Storm over a number of seasons.

The reason why this has stuck with me is because I often think about it in terms of the work I am doing, or problems I am having with people, or other issues in my life.

When confronted with these kind of scenarios I often want to try to solve them by doing what seems to be the easiest thing, whether it be the most simple task, avoiding a conversation, or working on the periphery instead of the core.

I am all for finding the easiest and simplest ways to do things. But that is not what I am talking about here. I am talking about the situation where I know there is something difficult to be done, and I fool myself into thinking that I can get around it, or put it off until later.

What this analogy reminds me to do is to go and do the hard thing first: have the hard conversation; make the difficult phone call; do the intense thinking. Because in doing that thing I can break the whole game open, and actually make life easier for myself sooner.

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. 

Expectations short and long

People usually overestimate what they can do in the short-term, and underestimate what they can do in the long term -- Chris Judd

In terms of key lessons learnt, this was right up there with those I learnt last year: that daily, incremental action will have a much bigger impact than what I expect. Conversely, big one-off benefits will have much less of long-term impact than I will expect.

It is unlikely that I will change my life by the end of the week. But by the end of next year, I may have a business that is earning me a livelihood, a podcast that has an audience in the thousands, and be in the best physical, mental and emotional shape of my life.

Or I could have something else completely.

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.

When tattslotto seems like the answer

I sometimes find myself dreaming about winning the lottery. I find it very hard to ignore what I could do with a $30M windfall. The thing that stops me buying a ticket is not actually the overwhelmingly poor odds. The thing that stops me is that I find myself asking the question, 'But what if I won?', and not liking the answer.

What would happen to my life? What would I miss out on learning? How would my sudden change of fortune change the way I am with people?

It seems like it would be a short cut to have all the finances I want right now. I would be able to launch my breath mint business. I would be able to design a build a family home. I would be able to push my podcast to be a revenue generating venture. But the fact is that right now I have all the finances I need to do the things I need to do. I have enough to send my kids to school, to buy food, to pay the rent, to start the businesses. A large influx of cash would not actually push forward my current ventures in a sustainable way.

What I think I am craving when I fantasise about winning the lottery is not having to go through the uncertain times I know are ahead: the times of wondering how it will turn out; the times of feeling uncomfortable; and the times of feeling like I am out on a limb all by myself.

And it is these feelings and living through them that are actually the marrow of life. They can't be purchased with any amount of money, and ironically money can actually rob us of the opportunity to have these experiences and learn these lessons. 

Right now I move forward knowing that I have everything I need. And when the temptation of a $30M jackpot is too much to resist, luckily the odds are stacked against me.

Limited love language

I am aware that what I am about to write could be a cop out....I hope it is something more than that.

I have been talking with a friend recently about the word love. He has a podcast called 'I Love You Man', which explores ideas about male vulnerability, the feminine side of being a man, and of men expressing their non-sexual love for their male and female friends.

I actually find the idea of telling another male friend that I love him to be confronting and difficult. In spite of this there are a few men who I have told that I love them, and they have returned the phrase to me. 

I find the idea of telling a female friend that I love her with that same kind of love to be currently beyond my capability. The English word does not actually seem to allow for the simple expression of connection without the connotation of something more.

As I ponder this I start to wonder if at least part of the problem is to do with the fact we only have one word for love in our language. Many people would be aware that the ancient Greeks, for example, had six words for love, all with very specific meanings, conveying many of the different elements contained in our single word:

• Sexual love (eros)
• Deep friendship (philia)
• Playful love (ludus)
• Love for all (agape)
• Longstanding love (pragma)
• Self-love (philautia)

The words I want to use to express the love I feel towards my male and female friends are Philia and Pragma love - long-standing, deep friendship love.

If I had more specific words for the feelings I wanted to convey, would I be more willing to tell those I loved that I loved them; to let them know the kind of love I had for them?

Scratch match

One of my realisations last year was the I loved playing team sport, something I started at the age of 7 and continued non-stop until I was 28. And then had a 10 year break!

I think part of not being able to get back to it for 10 years was due to my belief that if I wasn't playing seriously (ie in a proper competition), then what was the point? And I have discovered the point. The point is fun. Playing scratch matches in the park at lunch time with a bunch of guys I don't know couldn't be more fun.

Getting fit. Meeting new people. Learning new skills. Being outside. Having fun. I think it is a big part of my improved wellbeing over the past 12 months.

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.

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.

Adjusting expectations for increased happiness

I am in the middle of an experiment where I noticed something that is not going according to the way I want it to go, and then I adjust my expectation to expect it to go the way it normally goes and observe the impact.

Observation: I often make faux pas on social occasions. I usually feel pretty embarrassed about these and it wrecks the rest of my night as I expect to be smooth and silky with everyone I meet.

Adjustment: I expect that I will make at least one faux pas each time I am out and about - it is just the way I roll.

Observation: my son is having tantrums every day, and I fight him all the way and expect him to be cruisey and happy all the time.

Adjustment: I expect that each day my son will have a least one melt down. It is a sign that he is growing and working through some bigger kid stuff. 

Initial results are that I seem to be able to roll with social mishaps and tantrums more easily than I previously could.

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.

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.

No harm in trying it on

I had just finished hearing AC Grayling talk at the Gleebooks bookshop in Glebe, Sydney. I walked down the stairs and a book caught my eye just as I was about to walk out. It was The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, and a burst of energy surged through my body. 

There was something about that book I thought was dangerous, heresy. I was a devout pentecostal Christian who was just starting to explore the fringes of my faith. Here was a book that totally recanted my fundamental assumption about existence.

I purchased the book, wondering if I would be stuck down for this act of defiance, and read it over the course of a week while on the beach in Noosa.

I got to the end of the book and thought, I wonder if my life would be better or worse if I lived as if there were no God?

And I decided in that moment to try the idea on for size, and make an assessment in six months time. If there was a degradation to my life, I would go back to believing in God. If there was an improvement, then it was time for a different path.

It is scary to try new ideas on for size, because there is the possibility that everything we have believed and lived up to that moment has been based on an mistruth. 

I tried the 'no God' idea on for size, and over the course of six months my life did improve, largely because I realised I had to take responsibility for my own life. There was no higher power doing it for me.

That was almost 10 years ago, and my spirituality has gone through many iterations since then. But this was the first time I allowed myself to fully embrace an idea I previously could not even look at sideways.

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.