Why I do not need to be the arbiter of justice

How many times have you felt wronged by someone? Feeling the anger seeth through you, you feel the need to argue what the other person did was wrong. And if they don’t understand, you think about how they should pay for their actions.

It’s not particularly hard to find injustice within the world right now. Whether looking at the bigger picture of the world, or simply what is happening in our day to day lives.

I’ve felt conflicted for a long time on how we deal with people who are doing bad things. On the one hand, I want to practice the art of forgiveness, demonstrating that I am not holding a grudge. This is particularly the case when the slight is small – forgetting to thank me for something, or being a bit rude in the morning.

But on the other hand, I wonder whether I am being complicit in their actions. Should I not make it known that what they have done is wrong?

At the Vipassanna course I went to, one of the things that stuck most with me was truly learning about Dhamma, or the Universal Law of Nature. When we do good things, good things come to us. But when we do bad things, we receive a negative consequence.

The idea can sound nice in principle, but challenging to accept when we see the inequalities of the world. Yet when we delve deeper, we see that the surface level appearances are different to the reality.

A man can do bad actions and become rich. This is an undeniable fact – we see it all the time in the world. But when we dig deeper, we can see that the man cannot really be happy by being rich that way.

If the man has gotten to riches by lying and stealing, he will forever be looking over his shoulder, worrying whether he might be caught. He will also see his own actions in others, and forever be wary of someone lying and stealing from him. So despite his riches, the man is spiritually poor, and lives unhappily. No wealth and material comforts will change this fact.

Even if someone wrongs us, it is not our duty to deliver them moral castigation. It is not our role to play Universe. If we do, we end up creating misery for ourselves, because we get frustrated, often ruminating over anger.

After all, how many times have you played an argument out in your head? Has this actually ever helped you?

This approach doesn’t mean that we be totally passive. What I enjoy about Eastern philosophy is that it gets away from overly intellectualising every position.

When we have set out that certain actions will have consequences, then it is also our duty to follow through with them. If we do not, then we are complicit with the negative action. We have not acted against a moral wrong. If you’re a shop owner and you catch someone stealing, you stop them. You call the police.

Even a judge can sentence someone to life imprisonment without wishing ill will on the person. This is the judge playing their role in society, based upon the agreed precepts of what people are forbidden to do. But beyond sentencing someone to imprisonment, it’s not the role of the judge to be angry at the person.

Too often we can try to play God, judging people as being bad people. This is not our role, and it only leads us to misery.

The best thing we can do is get out of the way and let the universe do its thing.

This is one of the key foundations to creating happiness in our lives.

On the challenges of creating a community

One thing I’ve noticed recently is how people seem to be crawling out the woodwork. After a long period of post-COVID isolation, I’m noticing more efforts to unite together.

Perhaps this is just my view in Brussels. Perhaps it’s because people are feeling driven to be more active due to the politics. Or perhaps it’s because the weather is getting better.

For my part, I’ve been more actively looking to find a community home for over a year now. Whilst I would love to say it’s been a roaring success, it’s instead been a pretty tough endeavour.

One thing I’ve learnt about creating community is that there needs to be some level of commonality. Without some level of connection, there’s little reason for people to continue investing in that space. Things are created, but no sooner do they end up falling.

One of my first forays into building connection post-burnout was finding people who, on the surface, had similar identities and beliefs as me. I thought that if people looked, sounded, or at the very least had some level of personal identity that was like mine, that it would be a good place to connect.

The hard lesson here was that people with my minority backgrounds can often have pretty negative views of the world. Years of oppression have taken their toll. Such a space therefore becomes a refuge, more about sharing misery with one another. When people bond over shared trauma, it becomes impossible to connect at a deeper level. I realised that such spaces are not healthy for me. The work I have done on myself to be more grateful, happier and positive was treated with suspicion.

I’ve recently realised too that connecting over political causes can also be a risky endeavour. I’ve spent a good number of years working on climate, and so I had a natural gravitation towards these groups. But again, I found that the connection was often based upon a shared anxiety around the world. I’m often at odds with the people around me due to my background, so bringing a different perspective can be seen as threatening. For example, looking to be happy and enjoy life is an unpopular take.

And so, I’ve now looked to focus my energy in spaces where I feel more welcomed. Where identity and politics matter less, and the priority is on genuine connection. Toastmasters has been great for this. The connection is around improving public speaking, and I feel it is so much easier to connect with other people who are also in an open, learning mindset.

I’m on a coaching year long programme, and I once asked a guest speaker around creating community. He replied that the best way to see this is to create the community that you most need yourself.

And so, I felt prompted to do a few things. I first created a social in Brussels, entitled Lifting Spirits hosted at the Full Circle. The aim is to build a community which reinjects a much-needed sense of inclusion and positivity in the Brussels landscape. The first one got good feedback, and we’ll host another one at the end of April (details here). If you’re free and in Brussels, it would be great to have you.

I also decided to create a separate space to connect around this need for greater positivity. And so, I created a Mighty Networks group specifically for this. The aim of the group is to support one another much better than we can necessarily do on the traditional social media platforms.

Might Networks is a separate, closed social media which allows for greater control of what one puts out there and creates (without ads and dodgy algorithms). I realise that many people will be hesitant on the idea of downloading yet another app. But I also think that a separate space is necessary. We’re growing increasingly disillusioned with the Metas and TikToks of the world, whilst the last thing people want is another WhatsApp or Telegram group.

This space instead is like a curated internal space to actually go deeper than a traditional social media space would. And from a personal level, it becomes so tough to post on so many different social media platforms, particularly when the algorithm might decide to not show anyone the content anyway.

So, if you’re looking for a space where you can build a greater connection with the sorts of themes that I write about here, you’d be most welcome. My hope is that we can create a space where people can talk more openly about our challenges, and actually actively support one another. It is where I’ll be dedicating my time and energy for the foreesable future to get it off the ground.

If this sounds like something that might be interesting to you (or you’re sympathetic enough to join just to support me!), follow this link to join (for free). I’ll be regularly posting videos and insights that will help you with your day to day life.

I hope to see you there!

How our fantasies create more of our suffering

During my Vipassana meditation, I heard a distinction that I hadn’t come across before. Well, at least, not in this way.

When we start doing the process of internal healing, we are often called to action by the overpowering feeling of our fears and anxieties.

Through this work, we learn to better understand these feelings. Further down on the journey we also learn that these emotions are actually our own creation. The external events may be the prompts, but it’s the way that we give them meaning and power that really prompts the emotion.

For example, A knock on the door in of itself does not create fear. But if a knock on the door is associated with a stressful event, for example a room inspection or an altercation with a parent, it is this association which makes it anxiety inducing.

This was a concept that I felt I understood pretty well. Yet what I also heard was pleasant feelings can also create suffering too.

‘But surely, feeling nice is good?’

Yet it was here that I learnt something that has dramatically and permanently improved my mental wellbeing.

So what was the revelation? That when we want something so bad that we would feel bad or disappointed if we do not get that thing, we create a new condition for our misery.

For example, we can get so caught up in the fantasy of something we desire in the future. A new job, moving to a new place, or dating that special someone in our mind.

When we start drifting off into this land of fantasy, we start creating conditions where we see our salvation in having that thing. We start basing our life’s happiness on whether we will get that thing or not.

The signs of this are when we start saying ‘when I will get…., thenI will be happy’.

The problem with this is two fold. Firstly, it takes us away from the present. We stop paying attention to our current life because we are so busy living in this future dream world. We are no longer paying attention to the nice things we have sitting right in front of us.

Secondly, we create an enormous amount of pain for ourselves when we do not get the thing that we want. We start questioning ourselves, and whether there is something wrong with us. We start even considering that maybe we weren’t meant to be happy. We are not ‘one of the lucky ones’.

I realise that this is something that I’ve been doing throughout my whole life. Most recently, I noticed how I was creating my own misery around my weight. I was on the right path – exercising more and experimenting with my diet. Yet the moment I started looking at my weight and fantasising about when I would be thinner and look better, it killed all the joy out of the progress I had made.

Seeing this shift has made quite a dramatic change already. Already, I do feel a lot happier in my body. I’m not pushing myself too hard, risking injury as well as getting myself more frustrated. And I’m also not spending an enormous amount of mental energy around the topic anymore. Instead, I’m just more calm and happy. The additional effect is also that I’m now eating and sleeping better, which also helps me in my goal.

Once we realise this distinction, it becomes far more visible when we start doing it. Over time, and with practice, we become more disciplined at stopping ourselves down that path of inquiry. It is like the way that we learn to no longer pick at a scab – we realise that we’re actually doing far more harm in the long run.

The course described these as mental defilements – created through our aversions of unpleasant emotions, and cravings for positive emotions.

It is important to state that this is not saying that you cannot need or want things. There are certain basic things that we need for our survival. Food, clothes, companionship. And desiring things is perfectly fine too – indeed it is good to have a prompt to want to better our lives, for example.

But the danger arises when we become absorbed to an idea that we must have these things to enjoy our life right now. It creates an attachment to a non-existent reality, and takes us further away from living in the now.

My sense is that my life feels a lot more in sync now that I have gained the balance around these cravings and aversions. I can feel and see that things are going to move quite quickly for me now towards the things I want in life.

Indeed, I believe that when we feel stuck, this is the solution to de-block ourselves and strive forwards towards our life path. It’s what I’m now bringing towards my clients, and looking to create workshops around.

If you want to shift your life from a space of unhappiness to one of peace and happiness, this will be the key.

What I learnt from 10 days of silent meditation

oplus_3145760

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.