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Life moves pretty fast...

The Joy of the Slow Breath

Have you ever noticed that when you intentionally slow your breathing down to something like 5 or 6 seconds on the inhale, to 5 or 6 seconds exhaling that the world seems to stop? It’s fascinating.

For whatever reason, after doing this a few times my entire outlook on life seems fresh and clean. I have no idea why it works or what is really going on, but it’s a feeling that has become addictive. What’s incredible is when you apply this to real-life, real-time situations you can use it to find joy in the most stressful moments.

This seems so obvious, yet in the heat of the moment you can easily forget to take a breath. Like Ferris says…

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Thoreau quote

No One is Coming to Save Me, or You.

Being lost is for losers. Isn’t it?

I certainly thought so.

Being lost is for people who are on the couch eating cheetos. For people in the unemployment line. For anyone who is addicted to drugs. For the mediocre, mindless masses.

I never thought of myself as a loser, but I certainly am lost.

Almost a year ago I wrote “Stop Bullshitting Yourself If You Want To Wake Up (From The True Matrix)” and revealed that despite “having it all,” I was terribly lost and unhappy. Despite having a high paying job and a wonderful family, something important was missing.

My life had gone off the rails and I had no idea what to do about it.

I wrote about all the “tricks” I tried like changing jobs, eating better and getting exercise. None of it worked. All the distractions and futile attempts just added up to more misery, sadness and loneliness.

In that original post, I wrote “I think waking up requires one main ingredient that I don’t see anyone talking about… personal accountability.” In the past few months, I have come to realize how nuanced and complicated the notion of personal accountability is, and how difficult it is to describe without confusing it with issues such as commitments, projects, personal relationships and ego.

Personal accountability is one of things things that is so easy to say, it just rolls off the tongue. It’s like promising yourself you’ll only watch 1 more episode of Breaking Bad, or that this weekend you won’t drink. Then you wake up at 3am on Sunday, with an 16 empty cans of beer and hazy memories of Walter White. It happens, I know.

When I take a moment and bother to think about my own personal accountability, I think that maybe it is selfish to put myself first – and then I spin around and think that only by putting myself first can I find the right path. Whatever that horribly written sentence means. What I’m trying to say is that whether it has to do with my career and providing for my family, or sex, relationships, travel or even food, it’s all connected. Life had become rapidly becoming a game of “this or that”, a series of choices that feel increasing selfish, or the opposite – of being a martyr. I want to live a life of abundance, of saying “and” and not “or.”

Since I wrote that post, I’ve slowly started to realize that I was not going to find answers to anything from outside myself. At the same time, it was becoming clear to me that I had no idea how to fix myself. Most of the time my mind would race and I’d defer to sitting in front of the TV or reading a book. Just one more handful of chips. You know what I mean.

I started to wonder about being lost. I asked myself “Once you are lost, can you get more lost?”

It seems unlikely but for me, it seemed to be true. The harder I tried to find myself, the more lost I seemed to get. It’s a bit like being lost in the woods, thinking you’ve found the trail, then realizing you are still totally lost. Wrong trail syndrome I guess. Is that a thing? If not, I get dibs on the t-shirt and trademark.

Shortly after I wrote that post, I started to meditate on a regular basis. I started with several guided podcasts I had downloaded and committed to giving it a try. It was awkward at first. And weird. I felt so stupid sitting there by myself in the dark. After a few weeks (or was it months?) I started to notice a small voice inside my head. It was whispering to me. And when I finally decided to try to listen, I didn’t much want to hear what it was saying.

“No one is coming to save you” the whispers said.

I didn’t understand at first. Why would I be thinking I needed saving? But in talking with my coach, and after deep (and extended) introspection, I started to realized that I was desperately hoping that someone, or something would come along and save me. Despite a strong outer appearance, my inner voice had turned out to be some sort of damsel in distress. Seriously? Unreal, right?

My father got sick when I was about 10, and it’s only becoming clear now, some three decades years later how deeply that impacted me. I now realize that at some subconscious level, I have been waiting for him to come get me, hold me, tell me everything will be OK. Even writing that last sentence gives me some sort of deep seated, soul-touching feeling. And it feels real, and true. And wow, that’s messed up.

My resistance to this realization was extremely strong at first. It’s still there, I can hear it resisting even as I type this sentence. I told myself that this was total bullshit. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t true. That I am not a meek person. That I’m someone who is aggressive and focused and makes things happen. The harder I fought, the more insistent the whispers became.

But… sometimes the truth is just the truth. And that tiny voice was right. I needed to really listen this time.

The truth is out there. Actually, it’s right here dummy, in front of your face.

I can remember the exact moment I accepted it as truth. I was on a walk with my dog thinking about life and I got really angry and got very honest with myself. I lashed out (not at the dog, he’s fine) but at some grass. And I threw a rock as hard as I could into the woods. I screamed out loud. And then as I calmed down, the voice in my head became clear. And insistent. And strong. And at that moment, I finally saw the truth. No one was coming to save me. Until that very moment I had spent my entire life waiting to be saved. That was hard to accept. I am still fighting it deep down.

The answer to my question about being accountable to myself starts with realizing that the only one who can save me, is me. And getting clear on what it’s going to take as been consuming me. It’s terrifying.

I pushed myself to start to try to understand what decisions I’ve made in my life because of this need to be saved. I realized that many of those decisions have been subconsciously driven by the idea that one day, Superman (or woman) will come along and save me. It makes me feel like a child thinking about it now, like a scared little boy. The idea that I needed someone, or something to come and take away my pain was emasculating and hard to accept.

It’s a bitter, nasty pill. And even worse, I started to fully realize that this idea of being saved was running my life. It had major implications in my decision making. Even as I sit here writing this post I think that there is a part of me that still believes some outside force will take away my pain and give me what it is I seek. But it isn’t true. It was never true. It’s a fake reality, a matrix. The matrix! A virtual reality that can’t exist in the real world. It’s the reality that people who are asleep think is true. People who are awake, are not fooled by this dream, they know that being conscious, making clear decisions and being present is the only way to truly live. They know that no one is coming to save them.

I know this because for the past few months I’ve been slowly but surely waking to this truth bit by bit. I blew up my career in series of increasingly rash but right decisions. I left a high paying consulting gig and joined a small agency for half my salary. It was a disaster. From there, I joined an even smaller startup which 3 months later ran out of money. I recently landed at an amazing, stable company working from home. So far so good. But that’s not the point.

The point is, I’ve taken steps to wake up and to be accountable to myself and to the life I want. I wake up at 5:30 every morning and meditate, write, and exercise – all before 8 am. I think. I give myself space. These adjustments have given me perspective, and time to breathe. I took the long route to get to here. But now, the challenge is to relax and to live.To create more than I consume. To drink in each moment and each day.

I realize I’m still mid-journey and am not exactly ready to impart wisdom, or lessons at this point – I’m just trying to breathe, and live each day to it’s fullest. I’m facing my fears head on, and trying to be honest with myself. I’m not perfect, not even close. I fuck up. I slip back into old patterns. I get lost in thoughts. I get scared I’m doing the wrong thing.

But now, the voices are kind and encouraging. I am able to forgive myself almost immediately and move on. Being able to accept my faults and embrace my humanity is allowing me to start to become my true self. I sort of like that guy. I’m rooting for him to save himself. I think he’s on his way to a great life.

NYC at night New York City

Why Did I Stop Writing?

I got an email a few days ago with the subject line “Why Did you stop writing?”

I thought maybe I had emailed this to myself, but on further inspection, it was from a friend who found my post on Highexistence and stumbled onto this blog. Like many people who find their way here, they express a shared frustration and loneliness – looking for that elusive “missing thing.”

I relate deeply to that and it’s why I started this blog. It’s also why I started meditating. Speaking of which, I’m currently on an 18 day streak, and after some 260 sessions, have started having somewhat regular Lucid dreams. Those are freaky as hell if you haven’t experienced them yet. I’ll try to write more about them soon.

Meanwhile, I need to answer the question “Why Did I stop writing.” I have been obsessing about it since I got that email. Earlier today, I went out to get some groceries after a busy morning of phone calls and work and it hit me. I’m afraid.

You read that right. I’m afraid. Scared. Terrified to continue to write on this blog. I’m scared because I don’t know where it might lead. I’ve no idea what doors it may open, and for some reason, that scares the hell out of me. I know that may sound silly, and that I should be embracing the journey and reveling in the notion of self-discovery and new opportunities. Except apparently, I’m scared shitless.

I haven’t felt this way in a long time – in fact, I can remember a similar feeling when I embarked on my journey to college 20+ years ago. I headed out into the unknown and was excited but terrified. I put myself into a situation where there was no turning back at a school some 1,500+ miles from him in a different part of the country – far from friends and family – and for the first time truly on my own.

And now, I am faced with more than a year of hard work – self-inspection and reflection, journaling and meditating daily. I’ve left behind high pressure and high paying jobs for an opportunity to work from home and to explore art, writing, and physical fitness.

doorAnd yet, despite that progress I’m scared to keep writing this blog because I don’t know what comes next. I feel as if I’m standing in front of a door with a halo of light around it – sure that what’s behind it is good and true and beautiful. And yet I hesitate to open it.

And now I know it’s because I’m afraid.

I attended an event in NYC earlier this week and met strangers who asked me what projects I had been working. I talked about this blog over and over again. Apologizing for it, making excuses for not writing enough, or for making it anonymous. All excuses.

I’m scared to keep writing this blog because I don’t know what comes next.

The real reason is that I’m afraid to see what comes next.

That random email I got may have shaken me out of it. Now that I can name what’s wrong and why I’m not writing I think I can make some progress. I don’t feel as afraid anymore. I still have some reservations and trepidation – my goal was never to become some sort of hippy dippy meditation guy, or some sort of personal coach. I simply wanted to connect with other who felt like I did – like a fucking zombie sleepwalking through life.

I think that’s what I’m starting to figure out. I’m dense. It takes me a few tries to get shit right. The first step is realizing you are asleep and a zombie in your own horror story. The second and harder part is actually waking the fuck up and doing something about it.

Writing was supposed to be my way through the darkness but instead, I got scared like a baby and just stopped writing and exploring. Actually, to be honest, that’s not exactly fair. I just haven’t shared it on this blog as I had planned. In addition to meditating and journaling, I started drawing and painting for the first time in forever. I spend the month of November writing a Nanowrimo novel. I opened up to my family and shared how I feel more than ever. I started writing a screenplay for a super funny idea I had.

So I am making progress. I’m not a zombie like I was a year or so ago – I’m partially awake and am slowly acquiring and learning how to use the different tools I need to wake the fuck up for real. Not being scared is one of those tools.

It feels good to be back and a little less afraid than before.

Here’s my question to you… what scares you?

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Obla-di Obla-da

Apologies for the lack of posts recently.

I have been very busy living life as an experiment as I’ve written about previously.

Meanwhile, I have gotten a few emails from readers asking what I’ve been up to and to ask why I haven’t posted lately.

One e-mail said “So, friend, keep going, keep writing, keep creating; we are truly the creative masters of our world and reality” which resonated deeply with me as I plod along on my journey.

Another e-mail reflected “I have found myself becoming more and more disconnected and inactive in all areas of life and rarely feel excited or inspired by anything.” I can relate. I do relate.

I am so grateful for these e-mails and for anyone who stumbles across this tiny spot on the interwebs and reaches out to connect.

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Keep out Experiment in Progress

Living Life as an Experiment

Are you “living life as an experiment?” I finished reading the amazing book Living Beautifully: with Uncertainty and Change by Pema Chodron last week and loved it so much, I went back through it and wrote down several pages of notes. As I was reading through them this morning over coffee, one jumped out at me as I try to live life as an experiment…

LIVING YOUR LIFE AS AN EXPERIMENT – adopt an attitude of “I’m not sure what will help in this situation, but i’m going to experiment and try this.”

As I re-read my notes, I realized how powerful this idea has become for me. As it turns out, I spent years and years doing things that felt like life or death – certain jobs that made me crazy, with people that made me crazy, doing things that made me want to jump out the window. I made huge life decisions not with the mindset of experimentation but with almost a life or death feeling.

As it turns out, I’m very good at living inside my own head and getting totally lost in a task, to the point of forgetting to be present and mindful of my entire life experience. As I’ve grown older and started to focus on my experiences, I’ve started to realize that that while being in “flow” is good, being ignorant to the world around me is not – it’s quite literally been keeping me from having a mindful, present life.

I recently took a step backward and asked myself “Okay, I’m living life as an experiment, then what’s an experiment?”

According to Wikipedia: An experiment is an orderly procedure carried out with the goal of verifying, refuting, or establishing the validity of a hypothesis. Experiments provide insight into cause-and-effect by demonstrating what outcome occurs when a particular factor is manipulated.

I’ve started to realize that I’ve allowed myself to not have an explicit hypothesis for anything. I’ve allowed myself to assume there are good reasons for doing things. All those have been subconscious and I’ve allowed myself to live a life where I’m not asking the conscious questions, nor am I living life as an experiment. And if I am, I’m a sloppy excuse for a scientist!

When I read that quote from Living Beautifully, I think something clicked and I started to write down and consciously think about what experiments I’m currently running and have pledged to gain insights into my thinking – and gain control of my life.

My most recent career experiment was to try to define the sort of work I want to do, on my own terms and to put myself into a small company or start up to validate if I actually like the chaos and uncertainty it brings. In the past I had flirted from job to job looking at each new challenge as an opportunity to make more money or find a new challenge to keep me excited. Instead, now I’ve got a working hypothesis that I’m testing in real-time.

I am also running an experiment with this blog and site as I try to connect with others struggling with living a conscious, present life. The hypothesis is that there are a ton of people, just like me who are struggling to wake up, they know there is more out there, but it feels awkward and scary to consider a totally different way of living.

With both these experiments, I’ve felt myself slipping back into being asleep, and have had to remind myself that I’m in the middle of an experiment! It’s a weird, uncanny feeling to be honest, but I’m pretty sure I’m on to something. I’m documenting the results and adjusting my experiments on a regular basis.

I’m wondering, does this resonate with you, are you running any experiments? How are you living life as an experiment?