What I learnt from 10 days of silent meditation

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This month, I packed my bags, turned off my phone and took a train to the Flemish countryside for a 10 day Vipassana course.

The idea of the course is to learn the technique to observe the subtler realities of our existence as a means to end suffering. This is done by breathwork and body exercises.

It’s pretty hard to put into words what my experience was really like. It was intense, exhausting and brutal. But it was also reaffirming, calming, and uplifting too.

Yet I ended up learning far more about myself than I had expected.

The programme follows a rigid schedule. Wake up at 4am, with meditation throughout the day until 9pm. There are breaks for eating, with remaining times for short walks and catching up on sleep.

Throughout my time coaching, I had always talked about the idea that the ‘answer is within’. Yet this was the first time that I experienced this so deeply. I started noticing much more concretely how my body reacts to nutrition and pain. I realised that my challenges with food has actually been around how sensitive and overpowering certain signals can be for me.

For example, my hunger pains can be so loud that it drowns out the reactions of my gut. I’ve been so keen to quieten these pains that I’ve been eating heavier, and faster. It’s for me to control my hunger, not for it to control me. I can eat slowly, even if I’m super hungry. Interestingly, this insight was not prompted by any actual specific discussion around food and diet. Instead, these were things that I learnt intuitively by experiencing my body more deeply.

The course is based upon the teachings and practises of Buddha. Yet it sets out very clearly that this is not in an attempt to convert anyone or force them into a new religion or tradition. Instead, it was focussed on the universality of our experiences, and the fact that we all face suffering. The technique is for everyone as it is how we can learn to lift ourselves out of our misery.

The key learning for me was the idea of using the body as a conduit. We can intellectually understand something like Dhamma– the universal law of nature. In a nutshell Dhamma is that doing good deeds will lead to good outcomes for us, whilst doing bad deeds will result in bad outcomes for us.

But the point here was to actually understand this at the experiential level, i.e. experiencing this truth within the body. And so the meditation was focussed around the observation of what is happening inside. First by observing the breath, then by feeling the sensations throughout the body.

When we learn to quietly observe what is happening in our bodies, we can learn to not get overpowered by these sensations. It also allows us to get to a state of equanimity: essentially that we no longer fear unpleasant sensations, nor start craving pleasant sensations either. This is what creates and multiplies our misery.

There is more to it than what I am describing here. But this captures the general idea behind it all. The Buddha created a particular meditation technique for this, and so the course was essentially a bootcamp to learn this practice in as efficient way as possible.

I’ve only just come out of the course, so I want more time to make a final verdict. Nonetheless, I think that it has crystalised thoughts which had already been floating around in my head. Although this has not magically ‘cured’ my lingering sense of fatigue/burnout, I think it has done a whole lot of good. Furthermore, it’s given me a clear meditation practice that I can do that is tested and proven to improve my life.

There are many more weird and wonderful tales from what came up throughout my ten days, but I won’t go into them here. If you’re particularly interested, you can drop me a message and ask.

Would I recommend the course? Yes, I think it is a tool that will be valuable for anyone who grasps it. But it is a very intense experience, and people will need to be prepared for what they are signing up for. You don’t have to be perfectly prepared, but be ready to undertake what is being asked of you. Again, if you want to know more about what it’s like, I’m happy to share.

As for me, I’ll see how I integrate what I learned into my life. I’m fortunate that I have some time and space to do so. I also have the humility to realise that doing this course does not make me magically different or better either.

The law of nature is the same for me as it is for everyone else:

If I want the benefits, I have to do the work.

How to prepare for the unprepareable

I will be off the grid for the next ten days. I am attending a 10 day Vipassanna meditation. That means no phones or outside contact. It’s not a retreat – the meditation takes place in silence, with entertainment, including reading or journalling not allowed.

The timetable is also strict. There is a 4am wake-up and set times for each day. So it’s certainly not a holiday experience.

A few friends have asked: how have I prepared for what will be a very intense experience?

As a side note, it’s funny that people no longer ask me why I would do something like this. I suppose I should accept it’s what people come to expect from me these days! But this isactually been something that I’ve wanted to do for about two years. I first read about it in a book by Yung Pueblo. He talked about the positive effect it had on his life – to the point he does much longer ones (there are ones that go on for 45 to 60 days).

In terms of preparation, the answer is that I’ve been pretty relaxed. From experience, I realise the danger of putting too much pressure ahead of time. If I start stressing about it before it’s even started, I’m only going to be at a weakened mental state by the time I get there.

There are some rules that they do provide ahead of time. For example, abstaining from drug taking before the event. For me, that’s not really been an issue anyway. During the meditation you are not allowed to smoke , so I could imagine that this could be difficult if you are addicted to cigarettes. But otherwise, there are no prerequisites. I imagine this is intentional.

Which I think delves into the deeper answer to the question. When facing something big, our real preparation comes from our whole life, not from cramming change into a few weeks ahead of time. Although I have not done one of these meditations before, I have attended other, emotionally and spiritually intense events.

I also feel intuitively that this will be something I’ll enjoy. This is because I’ve taken the time to build a better understanding about myself. Part of me craves a space where I can just sit in silence and examine life’s deeper questions, without getting distracted by life.

I made the joke to a friend that this is a bit of an autistic fantasy – I have a schedule and all I need to do is follow what I’m told. This is actually another thing I’ve craved. Since being on burnout, it’s been trickier to have a routine. But more fundamentally, I’ve had a very difficult time of knowing what I’m actually meant to be doing with my life. A lot of the last 12 months has felt like searching for purpose.

I also know that the detox of the internet and social media will do me an incredible amount of good. It’s a little crazy to think, but the most I’ve ever been disconnected from the online world over the last five years has probably been 48 hours.

I will see how I feel on the other side. But for the moment, my conclusion is that each day is a preparation for the next.

When we get too tactical, we can forget the bigger picture: the way we live our lives on a moment-to-moment basis is far more important than any last minute preparation.

How much desire should we have in our lives?

Photo by Alexis Fauvet on Unsplash

Everyday we are constantly prompted by things we should desire.

During our weekly shop, the supermarket shelves are stacked with new, tasty products with shiny offers to tempt us. When we go to social events, our friends demonstrate a cool new trendy item of clothing. And when we commence our doomscrolling, social media apps bombard us with targeted ads of things to buy.

Yet one thing I’ve noticed over the last year is how much less I seem to desire these things. My general sense of ‘wanting’ has been extremely dulled.

When I reflect on this, I came to the question: is this enlightenment, or is this depression?

When I first went off on burnout twelve months ago, my desire to do things was practically non-existent. Even leaving the bed carried a sense of heaviness. And so, I would simply not leave. Many days simply doing nothing. I would have to actually force myself just to go to the supermarket.

The western medical world’s solution was to pass me some antidepressants to see if that would do something. And they did – I suddenly found I had a kick of more energy. Yet I still did not have much of a desire to do anything with it. And so I ended up returning to a state of entombment.

When I reflect upon the period before my burnout, desire was not a problem. Or perhaps it was – because I had too much. I had so many goals and tasks for myself that I was running myself ragged.

With the benefit of hindsight, I see that there is a heavy track record of an ADHD behavioural tendency. When I wanted something, I saw little reason to not just go ahead and do it. This has been great for allowing me to not get stuck in inaction. Yet it also came at the cost of running the desire treadmill at an ever-increasing pace. I got to the point where I was living as if I was poor due to investing so much in so many different activities. This was despite the fact that I had a good salary.

What led to the sharp decline was the sense that I was putting an ever-increasing amount of effort for ever diminishing returns. I naturally started questioning why I was even bothering. I think it was ultimately this that led to my burnout. It was not that I felt overworked, instead I just felt trapped.

With the benefit of a year’s rest and reflection, I’m noticing my energy return. And yet I find myself in this strange space where my desire for new things is still diminished.

Travel is an interesting example. I have little desire to go on some big adventure, perhaps gallivanting around South America or explore South East Asia. In the past, this would be the sorts of things I would jump at.

And so, is the sign of not wanting to travel the world a sign of depression – that I am fearful about leaving the comforts of my home? Or is it wisdom, realising that such trips are often an escapist fantasy?

Or is it simply just fatigue? After all, I should caveat this all by saying that I forget that I do actually travel a lot. I go to London to see my parents frequently, and only two months ago spent some days in Spain. I’m at a higher level of privilege to even be able to travel, when a century ago few people left the town they grew up in.

My conclusion is that the answer is probably a bit of everything. The mix of tiredness and fear does lead me to be more cautious around jumping into new endeavours.

But you know what? That’s probably a good thing. I wasn’t meant to be so haphazardly jumping into so many projects and people as I was perhaps doing.

As for the wisdom, well I certainly know far more about myself than I did even a year ago. Learning about autism has finally made me realise that I’ve been essentially paving over my own oddball preferences for the last three decades of my life.

I’m finally embracing that I do indeed love the weird mix of hyper-social / hyper-reclusive eat-the-same-thing-everyday mix. It doesn’t really make much sense to people (hell, it doesn’t really make sense to me).

I think I have also gained some wisdom about the world. Many of the get-rich-easy or become-more-sexy-quick schemes are selling a fantasy, rather than a reality. Most things that are worth it, take a long term, slow, accumulative dedication.

And so with this perspective, the desire for the new-and-flashy simply diminishes. I am far more circumspect around a lot of things. My energy is just far more precious to me than it was before. Indeed, I rarely eat or drink out anymore. Living in the higher cost of a Northern European country, it does not seem worth the cost. Particularly when I see that my eating preferences can be quite particular.

Of course, I’m not a saint, and I still do succumb to superficial desires. But that’s okay too. In fact, it can be rather fun. It’s better to ride out an ADHD hyperfixation rather than trying to block it out. Part of my learning as well is that I’m not meant to be perfect. I can enjoy the silly, childish things. Indeed, my collection of plushies are evergrowing.

I used to believe that personal development was all about shifting the feeling we ‘need’ something into something that we ‘want’. After all, wanting something is much better than feeling we need it.

Yet with more maturity, I am also seeing that we can also reduce our desires. Not that desire is a bad thing, but having too much of it can be super stressful. To take it political for a moment as well – from a revolutionary, anti-capitalistic perspective, one of the most powerful things we can do is reduce the hold that consumerism has on us.

So, dear reader, some questions for you to reflect on:

How is your relationship with desire?

Is it something you have too much of, or perhaps too little?

Message me if you would like to share your reflections

Why I feel I’m not allowed to protest

This weekend is protest galore in Brussels. Today there is a march for International Women’s Day, whilst tomorrow there is a protest against the new ‘Arizona’ government coalition taking up power in Belgium.

Yet, I’ve always felt a hesitancy around ever participating in a protest. There is something about participating in one that sets off an internal trigger warning that says ‘that’s a bad idea’.

In the UK, I had the fear of the mysterious phantom of ‘civil service impartiality’. As a government official technically I wasn’t meant to protest against the government. That said, lots of people did anyway, and it was not like I was particularly senior or visible. So if I did go on a protest, I doubt anyone would have cared.

Yet even since leaving the UK Civil Service, I still feel hesitancy – bordering on suspicion – around the protests. It’s only recently that I’ve really been able to pinpoint why.

Firstly, the autism assessment explains a lot. The idea of being on a big protests around lots of people in a heightened state of emotions sounds like a stressful endeavour. It sounds the opposite of fun and empowering. The intensity and the noise does not sound attractive whatsoever.

That said, it’s not that I can’t do noisy environments. I’ve been to festivals and concerts. When I feel relaxed and welcome, the noise can actually add to the experience.

Secondly, I also recognise that growing up from an immigrant background, I am more fearful around getting caught doing something wrong. This is certainly not without reason – I’ve grown up with the idea that I should be more careful, as the criminal justice system is far more likely to be harsher on me than my white colleagues.

Yet more fundamentally, my fear around protests is actually whether I belong in them.

My challenge with political marches is that I often feel like I ‘know too much’. I actually study and worked in politics. I’m not a fan of blanket solutions to solve complex problems.

Unfortunately, this point of view doesn’t tend to be taken kindly upon in such movement groups. The mentality is far more ‘you’re with us, or you’re against us’. Either blindly agree to what is being said, or be seen as part of the problem.

It’s my challenge in particular with something like International Women’s Day. I think it’s super important to have such protests. It’s a day to bring a focal point around women’s rights. Without it, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near as far as we have towards equality of men and women.

Yet I also can see some of the problematic sides. The official International Women’s Day theme is ‘Accelerate Action’, which I find so underwhelming. In an era where we have a wholesale bonfire of diversity and inclusion rights and initiatives and Mark Zuckerberg talking about needing ‘masculine energy’, the theme feels very tone deaf.

Furthermore, there are things around the modern feminist movement that I find difficult to stomach. The reality of living in a western country is that such movements are dominated by white women. The experience of black and marginalised women are ignored (or these women are simply told that their views are wrong). And so, the idea of gender equality is instead a fantasy imposed by white woman of what it shouldlook like according to them.

Which brings me to the next point – even calling this being about gender equality is not true, and arguably pretty problematic. Really, this is about cis-gendered woman’s rights. And in practice, often, white, cis-gendered woman’s rights. The interest in trans, non-binary and intersex people is non-existent. By talking about this as gender equality, it’s actually furthering the erasure of other genders because it ignores them..

I know for myself (and for many men), there is a lot of caution, bordering on fear for ever voicing these points. A lot of defensiveness can often arise. Whilst I understand many women are tired of dealing with men who believe sexism doesn’t exist, bringing that level of frustrated energy to potential supporters only serves to hurt the cause.

I’ve seen all sorts of weird stuff. I’ve received the classic line of ‘check your privilege’ (spoiler alert: the white woman saying this to me had a dump ton more privilege than me). I’ve also had the ‘we need to stick together’ argument when highlighting the issues of racism in feminist spaces.

I’ve also been to events where it turned into a rant match to essentially complain about how bad men are. I have an event in particular in my mind where it was supposedly to support ‘male allyship’ where this happened. I actually made the point that I’m glad I didn’t bring any male friends to it, because they would have been so put off by the narrative that they would have probably turned more anti-feminist as a result of the event.

And so, I realise that if I am not able to come to a protest being able to genuinely be myself, then what is the point of doing so? I’ve spent the last ten years of my career effectively dumbing myself down so that I don’t scare white people. I’m in no rush to carry on doing that in my spare time either.

If protests want to get more people to join, they need to be more inclusive. Women’s rights movements need to be more inclusive, as do other left wing movements. If not, such movements are doomed to continue in circular echo chambers which only end up dividing themselves further from the general public. Conversely, opening up these spaces will bring greater riches in terms of depth of political views, understanding and different viewpoints.

As for me, well, all I really want is a political space where I am respected and valued for my points of view.

Is that too much to ask?

The allure of escaping our responsibilities

I went home for a few days this week.

It was nice to be at home, with no real responsibilities. I had clean clothes, clean sheets and home cooked meals readily available from my mum. It was a chance for me to basically just disappear from the world.

For an alluring moment, I had the thought that maybe this is all I needed from life. After all, aren’t home comforts great?

Yet, I realised that such a view was a fantasy. I did not really want to abandon my life. My life when visiting my parents is good for a while, but after a while can be quite isolating. There is no gym nearby, and travelling to London and back each day would cost upwards of £12.

The reality was I was more escaping my problems rather than actually dealing with them. This was not actually what I wanted in life.

Escapism is certainly becoming more popular as a modern trend. The answer to worries and concerns is often to simply get rid of them in our life. Conflict in our relationships? Cut them off. Too much media consumption? Delete all the apps.

The approach is attractive because they target what we see as the source of our suffering. By restricting the flow of things that make us feel bad, we can live happier lives, right?

But such an approach only pretends the problem is no longer there. It’s fine to no longer want to be connected on social media, but only insofar as you are also happy to have less (or different) connection with friends and family.

Unfortunately, people who try this are often also lonely. So whilst it may reduce some levels of anxiety, it ends up increasing a sense of disconnection from friends.

On the darkest end, I’ve seen this lead to a lot of individualistic and selfish behaviour. Anything that is not bringing ‘positive vibes’ is simply shut out. I’ve had people in my life who used this as a justification for not supporting me because they were so caught up in the idea of ‘protecting their space’. Yet they had no qualms of wanting support from me whenever they needed it.

So instead of escapism, I think we need a more rounded paradigm for looking at the world. It’s about creating a solution that works for us as individuals, instead of blanket pieces of advice.

It’s vital that we be honest around how we are feeling, and what affect certain things have on us. If social media is a problem for us, it’s important to acknowledge that this is the case. But it may also be the case that we rely on social media for your work, friends or wider network.

From this point, we can actually see what it is that is causing us the problem. For example, it might be the amount of time spent, or the time of media consumed.

For me, I can feel anxiety if I read a lot of negative news. But it’s important I get specific, because I realise that I also want to be informed about the challenges in the world. I think this is an important distinction, because otherwise I would simply unfollow people and ignore what is going on.

I know people in the personal development world who take pride in not watching the news. On the one hand, I do get it. The news cycle is built upon headlines based upon fear. Yet I do also lose respect if they then complain about the state of the world without actually getting engaged in what is happening and/or needs changing.

So the answer, for me, is not to simply just delete the apps, or block anyone sharing stories about wars and genocides. Instead, it’s seeing the value of what I’m consuming, and returning to the reason why I do so.

By doing this, I can see that other things reinforce some quite unhelpful body image stuff for me. I can unfollow those types of posts because it’s a lot clearer-cut.

I believe this is a much smarter way of managing our lives. We act upon the values that we hold, rather than what we ‘should’ do to have a happy life.

The beauty is that through this process we can also shift the relationship we have with something like social media more broadly. When we can see that it is a tool to provide the things I want, I no longer see it as something beyond what it really is. It’s not something I need, instead, it’s something I use for my own convenience.

My work on personal development has really helped me with these mindset shifts. If it’s something you’re interested in exploring for yourself, message me.

Why the left needs to stop being ‘holier than thou’

Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash

Over the last few years I’ve been more directly entering into grass root and radical spaces.

On the one hand, I am inspired by the way in which these spaces can bring a sense of altruism and caring. There is a vision for a better world, even if it is often buried under a lot of other things.

And yet, I also quite quickly have been put off entering left-wing political spaces. Far from being a bastion of progressiveness, I am often subjected to more judgement and hostility than in the rest of my everyday life.

My greatest frustration has been going into left wing spaces that are supposedly ‘safe’. I’ve learnt though that these are ‘safe’, but only if you are a heterosexual, white woman whose broad point of view will be to complain about the patriarchy and/or capitalism.

It’s fine for me to turn up as long as I do not question or – heaven forbid – disagree with certain points. It becomes impossible to have a real political discussion when you are talking to someone who has a sense of heightened moral superiority to you.

I am hardly an advocate for untethered capitalism and patriarchical systems. Yet I also do not stand for lazy, dogmatic points of view either. We need to rid ourselves of the idea that simplistic political belief systems only exist in far right politics. They reside within our spaces alive and well.

The sad thing is that I’m not even making antagonistic or dramatically different points. Instead, it’s things like highlighting that systemic shifts can be complicated and require nuance. Yet even doing this is where I’ve faced insane levels of hostility. It is like walking into a cult and daring to ask why people are blindly following the ancient text written a millenia ago.

Most disappointingly, these spaces are where I often experience the most racism. I am a weird looking outsider without white skin and blond hair. Worse still, I come along with *radical* views. It is thus acceptable to use manipulative or abusive behaviour against me. All’s fair in love and war, right?

It is this left-wing hypocrisy that drives people away. People are tired of being told what to do, particularly when they see people not practicing what they preach for themselves.

It’s certainly put me off entering many political spaces. Because for all the bells and whistles, I see that I am only tolerated in such spaces as long as I blindly agree with what is being said. Inclusion is valued up until the point you might actually have a different opinion.

At best, critique may lead to deflection. For example, when I highlight issues such as racism in women led spaces, I often get repeated the line: ‘well can’t we come together and see that the real enemy is the cis-white males in power?’

It is hard to align with people who cannot see their own biases. Whilst there is some truth to not descend into mindless left-wing in-fighting, we also need to learn to take criticism. But we also need to be able to question such simplistic statements too. It’s quite the inconvenient fact when I point out that white males have actually been the ones that have often been far more supportive to me in my career, whereas I’ve experienced the most nasty behaviour from white women.

I have done far more work around deconstructing gender, racial and social constructs than probably anyone I actually know. I enter with all the work I have done on myself, only to be told off by a straight white woman who does not understand that she can also be racist. At this point, it’s not actually worth being in the conversation.

Currently, left-wing spaces often resemble a high school contest of being the person who can be the most oppressed being stating the most anti-establishment lines. If you sway from the party line, it is because you are not virtuous enough. You need to go off and check your privilege.

If we are to see a return to genuine left-wing progressiveness, we need to learn to practice what we preach. We are in dire need of more hopeful, loving politics, laced with a humility and understanding that people are allowed different points of view.

If the left is to truly capture people’s minds, it must first capture people’s hearts. People are exhausted, and don’t need to be bombarded with an ever growing list of why they are doing things wrong.

Instead, it’s about demonstrating that a happier, more open-minded way of living is achievable.

Freedom is available. Peace is attainable. Happiness is possible.

Getting off the sidelines and onto the pitch

Photo by David Knox on Unsplash

I’ve pretty much always been interested in politics. Yet even saying that out loud feels a little weird.

The last few years, I’ve actively gone out of my way to avoid political conversation. I got to the point that I believed that I’m better served being away from it. And yet, I’ve also come to realise that is a false narrative.

I may be spending less time at the coal face of political events, but the changes I’m making are relative. I am still far more connected to the world of politics than 99% of the population. I’m perhaps just not living and breathing it like I once did when I was younger.

My whole professional career has been in the space of politics and policy. I have a Master in EU politics. My University hobby was debating international affairs in Model UN conferences. I then worked in the UK government for nearly five years, then several years in Brussels on EU sustainability policy.

One of life’s great lessons is realising that a single subject is not meant to be all consuming. Our love and joy for a certain subject starts to fade, perhaps turning to fatigue and even disillusionment. But like the fabled hero’s journey, we can eventually return home, and remember why we cared about it in the first place.

No one could reasonably blame me for feeling burnt out with it all. On top of trying to understand what the hell is going on right now, my past lives were working as a UK civil servant during Brexit. The work was kafka-esque: the grand motivation was essentially to make a big messy thing slightly less bad.

Even before that, I was actually a trainee at the European Commission when the Brexit referendum vote happened. In one fell swoop any thoughts of a career in the European Institutions was cut short (not to mention other practical and emotional issues). I’m not sure a political vote will ever have as life changing effect on my as that one ever again.

But there are also practical reasons for political fatigue. The system is big and unwieldy. It can be hard to really shift big clunky things like government administrative systems. And in the last few years of my job in Brussels, I often questioned what difference I was really making. Whilst there were some good things we did, it often also felt like the goal became to justify my job role to our funders

But most fundamentally, I’ve realised how much my voice has been marginalised.

It’s hard to speak honestly when we are under an employment contract. It often prevents us from talking about genuine problems in our own sector. In some senses, I was blessed that my roles gave me more freedom than many others. Yet there comes a point where parroting company lines so uninspired, cliché and often hypocritical that it starts to grate against the soul.

One of my great career triumphs has been rising the ranks in a field which is very hard to break into. I got very good at playing the game – pushing where I can, but ultimately knowing that I’m not meant to really upset the system. My role was to uphold the status quo of complaining about the status quo. Talking about changing things is more important than actually changing them.

A key facet of navigating my career was dumbing myself down. One of my greatest gifts is my ability to reflect meaningful and understandable remarks on complex comments. Yet I learnt that this is not what I was meant to do. Certainly not in this system.

My role was instead to nod to the more senior, older white man (and increasingly white woman – yay for diversity!). My intellect could quickly be seen as a threat. It was too quick, too unconventional. Too radical. Diversity of thought sounds nice, until it means suggesting an idea different to those who get paid the most. I had to learn that what diversity really meant is pretending to not be too diverse.

I went to an event this week – Women Against Fascism at the Full Circle. I was purplexed when people actually appreciated me for giving my genuine thoughts. I was described as having a ‘brilliant’ mind. Imagine my confusion that they had considered me smart – did they not see the colour of my skin? The title of intellectual brilliance is usually only reserved for the tall white guy (with, in reality, quite mediocre comments. But did you see how good he looked in that sharp suit?).

I can certainly see the need for more freethinking commentary, and I’m happy to provide it too. Politics has become so organised, intellectualised and reactive that it’s become difficult just to participate from a place of simply wanting to do good in the world.

Yet I also realise that such an endeavour is also arguably a fool’s errand. By wanting to give more open and honest opinions, I am also potentially dooming myself to ostracisation and poverty. Indeed, I jokingly introduced myself at this event as a philosopher – which I then caveated as a polite way of saying I am unemployed. I’m certainly scared of running out of money. Whilst I don’t dream of a lavish lifestyle, I quite like having a bed and a roof over my head.

But I feel like I need to let life guide me in the direction its meant to. I’ve had an incredible amount of change over the last 12 months (and to be honest, the last few years), including some real low points.

Perhaps it’s just about having faith that this is what I’m meant to be doing. With time, and more people believing in me, it will get easier.

Re-learning to enjoy the little things

When we get so caught up in what we need to do, we can lose the joy in the day-to-day activities.

The focus often turns to efficiency, rather than pleasure. The relaxing morning coffee turns into a rushed caffiene consumption. The calming walk outside in nature turns into a step-counting exercise.

It seems to be happening more often to people around me. As we get squeezed into a sense of productivity, the focus is always how we can get more out of ourselves, squeezing the lemon that is our soul for every ounce.

I’ve been focussing on enjoying more parts of my life. It’s been a work in progress. In some senses I’ve had to, mainly because the idea of efficiency doesn’t really make sense when you don’t actually have anywhere to be.

I’ve gone from having a mega packed schedule to one where I’m pondering what I’ll do each day. For a good few months, I felt pretty lost without a sense of urgency. Over the years I had built the idea that simple tasks like a shower and breakfast required a deadline to push me to get out of bed. The only reason to keep myself alive was essentially so that I could meet the next deadline.

Over time, I did get better at this. But once I had gotten to the point of disconnecting sustenance with productivity, what then took its place was a sense of perfectionism. If I couldn’t be fast, I could at least be good.

And so, my activities were then framed as needing to be good for me. I had to do things that were somehow improving my life. I fell into this also partly because I wanted to make myself better. It was with the good intention that if I focussed on doing the ‘good’ activities, I would heal and get my energy back.

Yet this was not particularly joyous either. Focussing on doing things because they were good for me still was a very mechanical way to live. It also meant that I fell into the trap of being afraid of doing things that were supposedly bad for me. This was particularly the case for food. I lost my appetite for eating out completely. Whilst I’m glad I didn’t rely on junk food to keep me going, the fact that I felt zero desire for most foods was actually even more alarming.

I see re-learning to enjoy the little things as a way to re-wire my relationship to dopamine. A lot of my ‘entertainment’ was often from scrolling on social media and short but intense interactions with people. Whilst I definitely don’t chastise myself for these things (after all, enjoying the little things also includes enjoying the silly instagram reels), but it meant that my desires were dictated by short and easy things.

To counteract this, I’ve been eating a wider variety of foods – less ‘healthy’ breakfasts, more chocolate and energy drinks. I haven’t been bingeing on them, more that I’ve just been building more novelty into my life again. I’ve also moved my phone charger to the other side of my room so that there is a clearer moment when I am ‘turning off’.

One thing I’ve realised is how important it is just to have a general sense of joy in our lives. No matter what our goals are, if we aren’t happy, it will all feel harder. In fact, it’s even been shown that cells in a depressed state work less actively than cells in a happy state. So not only will it feel harder, it will actually physically be harder too.

So, even though scientific wisdom may suggest too much sugar is bad for the body, there is a point that if eating chocolate brings joy, it may have a net positive effect. Sure, there are consequences – if I don’t change my habits for the next 20 years my teeth will no doubt suffer. Yet this is probably still a better outcome than just being miserable for the next 20 years anyway.

So it is important to turn the rational, scientific brain off. We have become so used to dictating our lives from that side of our brain that we often forget there’s the whole other side of it too.

The more healthy relationship we have to joy and happiness, the better life we will live. Not just in happiness, but also in health, career, relationships and everything else.

You’re allowed to enjoy things. It’s your right. Perhaps it’s even your obligation.

The fool’s search for a sense of belonging

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We all want to belong. Even the most reclusive, Grinch-like people we know deep down desire it.

The modern day message is that when we do not belong, we should simply move on. The magical land of belonging is just beyond the hill, over the rainbow.

Yet what if searching for such sense of belonging is just but a fool’s dream?

For many of us coming from marginalised communities, the sense of rejection can stir our sense of venture. We gravitate towards people who we think might fill this need, through a common identity, characteristic or set of beliefs.

But I’ve come to the conclusion that this is the wrong approach. When we retreat to the people ‘like us’ we often end up secluding ourselves even further. Both from the world, and also from our true selves.

Now don’t get me wrong, there is benefit in connecting with people who have similarities with us. It can be a space to learn more about our own beliefs and cultures. But the issue is when we go too far, and this becomes the basis of our identity. We turn ourselves into a caricature of what we think we are meant to be, based upon this new groups ideals. We end up eradicating the beautiful uniqueness that led us to strive for that belonging in the first place.

I spent the last week at a retreat with the basis of bringing people together from similar identities. On paper, it felt like a great way to connect with people like me. But in practice, my experience was mixed.

I definitely had moments which I valued – learning more about how people similar to me see the world, as well as about different people and cultures. The time in nature also did wonders as a reset to my bodily fatigue and sense of entrapment.

Yet I also left disappointed. The dynamics of the group become ever-more cliquey and inwards looking. I don’t think I’ve had as many judgey glares in the last decade as I did at this retreat. There were particular things people did which were just impolite and mean, yet in the space of the retreat were tolerated. This was best summed up when I dropped a message to a friend explaining an interaction I had and the first response I got was a big ‘WTF’.

I started to question whether I was too much and too opinionated. It was a little weird – I had been in so many other retreat spaces which actually uplifted my uniqueness and valued it. So this feeling caught me by surprise. Yet I’m glad that I had the self-awareness to not take it to heart, though I was also very much glad to escape when the retreat was over.

There’s quite a lot to unpack with such an experience. Firstly, It’s worth mentioning that many people seemingly enjoyed it a lot more than I did. Labelling it as a terrible creation would be simplistic and unfair. Yet I also believe it was good it did not go on longer. I saw a dynamic that would have evolved into worse behaviour as time went on.

Ultimately, the responsibility is upon each of us as participants in such a space. Yet, I do think it could have been curated in a much more inclusive way, which would have helped a lot. I think we fell into the trap of what I call the ‘we’re all adults’ fallacy.

Essentially, the fallacy believes that simply bringing together ‘people like us/’good’ people’ means that we are bringing together people that automatically ‘get it’. There isn’t a need to set ground rules. After all, we’re all nice people right?

The problem is that this ends up replicating the same issues that we bemoan in society. Prejudices and biases runs free. One person wasn’t as sociable as they were meant to be. I was too opinionated. Another person too loud.

Belonging does not magically appear. It is built, crafted, and curated. When we go chasing a sense of belonging, we are only ever going to be disappointed.

But first, we need to see ourselves as beings that belong. In our space, in our community, in our world. If we do not come from this starting point, we are doomed to constantly chase for this feeling that no one can actually give to us, apart from ourselves.

The negative experiences I had actually helped me realise how much belonging I already have in the communities around me. The funny thing about a bad experience is that it can put in perspective how many other positive things we do have in our life.

So rather than focussing on what is lacking in the communities I’m already a part of, I am instead far more focussed on appreciating on what they already give.

I can see that I already belong.

Renewing our connection with nature

I’ve spent so much time in the city recently, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in the countryside.

In fact, most of my life has been in city dwellings. It’s a little ironic, because my ancestral history has been from a village in rural Sylhet.

There’s something about being away from people, noise and organisations. When we spend so much time in the busy rush, we forget that such things aren’t a definitive fact. We did not always exist surrounded by thousands and thousands of people. In fact, for most of human history we have spent time in relatively small settlements.

It feels a lot easier to think openly and creatively. Part of me feels like going on a large productive rush of writing and creation. It feels a lot simpler when there are far less distractions.

But I realised that going down this path would also probably not be the best for me. The harder, yet more rewarding path is to detoxify myself from the sense of required productivity.

It’s been surprisingly hard to simply sit with no real plans for a few days. It gives space, which can actually be very difficult to know what to do with.

I’ve been holding a heightened level of anxiety in my body for a while now. And whilst I’d love to say that being out in nature would simply ‘fix it’, that’s not really been the case. I’ve been doing a number of things which can help: I’ve dipped in cold water each morning for the last few days and briefly went into the sea.

Yet I am still often waking up in the middle of the night with a tightened chest. It’s been an extra level of challenging because there isn’t an obvious explanation of ‘why’. I am already doing most of the usual recommended remedies – exercising, eating healthy and resting. I hope this will help with time, though I admit that I am not sure whether things will change anytime soon, or whether I should be doing something differently.

Seeing my own vulnerability has been a humbling experience. Two years ago I was at the height of my active powers. I was juggling full time work with writing (including releasing my first book), a bunch of personal development programmes and an active life in Brussels.

Yet perhaps my current ebbing of energy was just how life was meant to be. Growth is also learning to focus ourselves. And perhaps the lesson is that spreading ourselves too thin will wear us out in the long run.

In the midst of the challenges, it’s important to recognise the achievements too. This article marks 3 years of consistent writing. I have now not missed a week since January 2022.

My aim has always been to share my experiences to help you with your own life journey.

And so it is with this energy I continue to write to you