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You’re a catch. Do you think you’re a catch yourself?

Do you feel safe in your body? How lucky do you feel to have yourself in this body? The genetics, self expressions manifested in your pysical form?

Don’t be so rigid. Honoring yourself means getting up at 6am to meditate even if you went to sleep at midnight. It doesn’t matter. Sure, closing the previous day early makes the next day easier. Sleeping later to wake up later doesn’t excuse the need to do what is best for you. Even if you get up late, sit and close your eyes. Do it later. If it’s important, make tame to do it. It takes 21 days to develop a habit. 90 days to program it into the body.

Stop the resistance to control yourself, so caught in alone time. You have being told what to do. This is another inhibition that holds you back sometimes. Listen.

Define love for yourself. Are you available to yourself? Are you full, open and surrendering to make yourself available to you? Flow gracefully, feeling and calling what you want in. Breathe and action with every word, being clear with your intentions. Be clear with every word, understanding the meaning of every word and its origin. It will either make you move forward or bring you back.

This is your life. This is your game. Player one. This is your song and dance. If you don’t like it, you can change it. You decide.

Fulfil your own needs. What does it mean to honor yourself? It means you don’t need boundaries. Why do you need boundaries? Don’t worry about them. You don’t need to protect yourself from anything. Observe. Exercise discernment. Those who want to harm you, when you serve your highest self, you become invisible to them. Only visible to others with your open invitations.

Take accountability for what happened to you. Yes, it was painful. Yes, it wasn’t your fault. But you played a role, no matter how small. Own up to it. Take responsibility for yourself. Acknowledge it. See it. Forgive yourself.

Sure, you’re less hard on yourself. But just because you give yourself smaller lashes doesn’t negate the fact you are still hitting yourself. Instead of lashing, why not lavish with love?

Listen to the song inside of you. Dance. Have fun. Be playful. Honor all parts of you. Because if you don’t listen to the song, the song will be return to be expressed.

Because it doesn’t matter if you have been given a gift. You have to work at it, to becoe the gift. Without it, you’re just sitting around on a chest full of gold, not used. Wasted.

You wake up late, cleaning up my place. Vacuuming the floor. Wiping mirrors clean to see my reflection. Folding laundry, creating ples of garbage to take out. You make myself a meal for yourself. In separate bowl. You make mixed rice, sweet potato, soup, and broccoli.

You sit down, food placed on green placemat, with flowers to the left, calm music playing in the background. Sitting on the table, instead of standing, hovering over a sink. Picking at the food, not waiting to eat before they are placed on plates. Wait for your food to arrive. You know how to wait because you know what you ordered. Stay with your intentions without distractions. Be gentle and rooted in yourself. Your ying doesn’t need any more work. Your yin wants to come out, with curiosity, softness and gentleness. To open up, taking accountability for what has happened, and the hurts you have caused. Take ownership and accept your journey.

Be clear on your worth. Stop giving away your power. Your energy. Your money. Why did I give my power away to the man manager? This was a habit you are breaking. What are you signaling to the universe? That you cannot hold onto what has been given to you? That you leak energy? Stop it. Plug the holes.

Self mastery means self discipline. It’s about overcoming the environment, and doing what is important. So you sit down and close your eyes. Upper torso bends forward with gratitude and you open your eyes. Your body knows when the hour is up.

To self mastery, to self love and self acceptance. Away from self loathing and self hiding.

I have been simmering for two months on what, I cannot say exactly. It is defining my purpose and my life. How I want to live.

Define. Measure. Analyze. Improve. Control.

Define. What is the problem statement? What are you trying to achieve? It is usually a standard process with clearly defined business rules and service level agreements.

Measure. To measure, you need data points over a period of time.

Analyze. Look at the data, measure how it is performing against the definition of your operating model. There will be gaps. You’ll need to fill in gaps with standard set of assumptions. Thereafter, you’ll see gaps between performance and desired output. This is where you’d need to bring in different tools like Failure Modes Effects Analysis (FMEA), Fish Bone, and understand the detailed process mapping to understand the root cause of the gaps. They are always people, process, data and systems related.

Improve. Figure out what you want to improve and by how much, and by when.

Control. Put in definitions, operating procedures, SLAs and monitors in place to control the process that has been defined, measured, analyzed and improved.

This goes in perpetuity until the six sigma parameters are maintained, if you work for a manufacturing industry. For me, I apply this until I get bored of improving a certain process. Until the noise dies down. So that I can stop doing the same thing over and over again.

This is how I run my work. DMAIC. FMEA. Fish bone. Pre-mortem. System thinking. Desining boxes and lines in my mind. Diagrams criss-crossing in ways that make sense to me.

I would like to apply the same principle to my life, in general.

Definition = Purpose

Measure = How do I measure my purpose? Is it # of dinners hosted and served? Is it # of phone calls per day with those I care about? Is it # of steps I walk a day?

Analyze = How am I doing them? Am I present? Are they sum of outputs and not outcomes?

Improve = Where am I lacking? Plug gaps. Don’t forget to continue doing great work in other areas where I am naturally good at.

Control = Commit to the practice that needs focus.

So that I can move from Step 1 to Step 4, in iteration, until I reach the desired level.

1. Unconscious and Incompetent (Unaware of what I am bad at)
2. Conscious and Incompetenet (Become aware of what I am bad at)
3. Conscious and Competent (Work on being better, and be focused)
4. Unconscious and Competent (Competence builds confidence, and confidence reinforces competence until I am not even aware that I am doing it.)

It’s like a baby who is busy feeding to grow. Until it becomes aware of its body. Conscious of the giants walking around it, moving their arms and legs without effort. The baby can roll. It sits. It starts waddling. Walking. Running.

And so, like a baby who is growing and visibly improving. I too, would like to see the results of my efforts. For me, and no one else. But if I see it, everyone else will feel it.

A day to myself. No one to rush to meet.

Putting on my hiking boots. In the black laptop bag, I pack a vest, jacket, 500 liter of water, sunscreen, hat, muffler and gloves, I drive off to Table Mountain. Escaping the Lion’s Head crowd. Seeking a different terrain.

I find myself at the foot of the mountains. It is 1:11pm. Up the first set of stairs, I pass an Indian family and a solo woman hiker who reminds me of a friend.

Trasversing the mountain, walking on a narrow path with the rock face to my right, I find self feeling free. To be here, out and unrushed.

These days, I like hiking up and riding the cable car down. Taking advantage of the season pass from two weeks ago.

I turn right, to follow the signs up Indian Venster. Loose and dry rocks, zig-zag paths up the mountain, I pass a group of Europeans. Thereafter, a group of locals. A hot winter’s day, with my two thermal layers, one more than summer more than enough to keep me warm.

As I get higher, the path becomes less clear. I don’t know anyone else, and this trail, that I did once before with an expert group of hikers is not familiar.

I look for yellow footprints that mark the spot, and I am surprised to find a high boulder with the mark. I am not tall enough to cimb up with one hoist. There is a little depression on the third way up, and I hoise myself, using my entire body, leaning into the depression, before pulling myself up. Ahead of me is a group of three young men, climbing the staples and chains on a 90 degree rock faces. They ask me if I want to pass them, and I politely decline. It is comforting to have others humans around and before me on this technical section. On top is a collection of big rocks that reminds me of an open sculpture of oval rocks. Towards the top, I must step up two elliptically shaped rocks before setting foot on a wider surface.

Here, I pass the three men, passing the mountain to the right, the other side of the Cable Car. The path here is even more unclear. I haven’t been to this side of the mountain and I feel elated which turns spooky. Above me, a wisp of clouds pass the top of the mountain at warp speed, and it feels surreal to be here. I am afraid to hike down, the treacherous set of rocks and boulders that are too tall for me. I know there is a path up to the cable car, and I try few paths that lead me to dead ends. Until I find another yellow foot on a rock surface. I go up the first rock, and hoist myself to the second foot hold. The next climb will require me to trust my upper body. I climb up to the left, resting my body on the roks’ edge, lifting my left foot up. Except, I can’t. I must first pull myself across the rock, before the foot can move. I am frozen like this for 10 seconds, until logic kicks in. I need to move. Now. Carefully, methodically. Trusting my intuition but also where the rocks are. With no one to pull me up or tell me where to put my foot.

Adrenaline rushes in. I must descend. Climbing up this terrain will get me in more trouble.

Breath becomes hoarse and ragged, and noise escapes my mouth, as if I’m doing my own haka before a rugby match. I am still on my belly, with my arms holding me up. I frantically search for the left foothold, not finding it and panicking. “You’ve stood here before. Just find it. It’s right here.” I tell myself. And just like that, the foot finds the little step. My arms can let go, as I balance. I want to throw my backpack down, as it swings left to right, as I attempt to turn my body, to have the back against the rocks. So that I can hoise down. But I don’t, because… what if I need my phone? What if I need my jacket? What if I get stuck on this rock? So, I keep the pack on, and turn myself around. Facing down, I investigate the rock surface and find a safe way down. And I go back down, the same way I came up. Passing the thee men and a group of locals, with elderly woman struggling up a path. I try to step away to the left, hitting my head on the rock surface. A loud noise, and I am surprised. I turn on the selfie mode to see if I am bleeding. The wide brimmed hat that I wore to protect my face against the sun, blocking the view. I always do this. When I try to make way for other people, getting too engrossed in being efficient. I see a red mark between my eyes, smack in the middle. My right side of the forehead throbs. My poor brain. I am grateful for my skin and skull for keeping things in.

“What did you find up there?” asks the woman as she climbs up.

“Nothing”.

As I descend, i find myself lost. Intuition kicking in, telling me to go back and remember the trail. I do, and I see a pair of men asking me how far they have to go. 20 minutes.

As I pass the two boulders that are too tall for me, that takes more time getting down, the last of the dangerous bits.

I am grateful to have come down this far safely. I go back the way I come from, passing a man jogging with his dog. In the car, I drink my water, relieved to be sitting and in the familiar territory.

Today, I came across walls that challenged me. Paths and walls that marked the edges of safety. Places I cannot go alone, without a group of experienced hikers.

When friends and family worry about me traveling and hiking alone, I tell them I must do what I need to do. Otherwise, I would never go anywhere.

Except today, I know this path will require the path away from the aloneness. I acknolewledge my limitations. This path is not for the sole traveler.

I am grateful for the experience. To push against boundaries (safely) and come across rock surfaces and paths too dangerous for me (at least for now).

It is humbling while empowering to have experienced this day on my own. Thanks to my abled and strong body that carries me wherever I wish to go. For the mind and adrenaline kicking in, to super power instant decision making to keep myself alive. For the logic in me telling me to find the path of safety.

I spent three hours on the mountain, on my own. Walking, climbing, freaking out and banging my head.

Thinking vs. doing. The latter builds muscles of the mind and body. Testing limitations, capabilities and creating aspirations of where I would like to go next. Reasons for getting stronger and smarter to climb the next peak.

To the art of living well, by not only seeing things as they are. But living by going outside and doing the things that make me happy.

I thank my body and my mind for keeping me safe. Keeping me alive. And feeling alive and grateful to be here.

I sit behind my computer screen. Furiously clicking work windows closed. To not be distracted. To prevent myself from doing what is easy.

To get here. To be with myself.

Closing my eyes.

Crossing my legs, feet atop the round carpet from a friend. Sitting on a cushion, on one of the two chairs I bought for the dinner party. Even now, acquiring when absolutely required, to serve others. Resting my fingers on the cold keyboard. Where do I start, as the piano glides across the black and white keys. The melody of my heart, letting my fingers dance. Heaviness of my chest. Tears fill my eyes. I grab tissues and bring them to my eyes.  

Sadness surge like it is full moon. Sobs break across the sea wall and crash into my face, tears spray across the dry and contoured surface of what the world sees. Yet, they don’t see me, as I retreat into myself.

Coaxing myself to face the reality of the past. To see what happened, unveiling the fog of longing and unfounded hopes.   

Love embodied in the sacrifice of a mother. Of a grandmother. Of a grandfather.

Only to see that these were result of lack, not love. From having to make do with crumbs. What kind of cake can you bake? What kind of care can you give?

Lunch bell rings. Best part of a child’s school day. Oval shaped metal container contains the white rice. A white plastic unwraps. In it are just crumps. There is no banchan of crispy black seaweed. I quickly crumple the plastic into the bag. Opening the metal container and scoops few spoonsful. The taste of white and sticky rice feels go to the senses.

From that day on, I would check my lunch box before leaving for school. One day, leaving her schoolbag home, with lunch box clutched to my chest.

Was I hungry growing up? I thought no. I was wrong.

I could see and feel the lack around me. They couldn’t take care of themselves, never mind a child. I needed more than they could give. Feeling bad for experiencing lack. Yet, feeling protective of the family. Or was I afraid to become the outcast?

She smelled like urine. Her hair full of lice, never brushed. She never changed her clothes, and she had no friends. Signs of neglect, which we all ignored but could see.  

The outcast. I was afraid she would become me. So we all avoided her, and she was alone. Whatever happened to that poor child?

Why did I hide in the closet, in the dark? To escape the sensory overload of the world. TV, light, people, food.

Where was I going? I spent my time trying to fill the gaps of care. Worrying about the world around me that could not provide. This skill of mine helps to pay the bills, for I am the master of seeing the gaps before anyone else. The hyper vigilant child, now an adult, performing pre-mortem audits of major corporate programs.

Why do I eat, when things are going well? When I feel, I don’t know if I have yet found the words to describe these surges of pain.

Impossibly filling the gap of lack. Of not being cared for. Of not being embraced and not be free to play. To not throw tantrums. To not expect to find lunch to eat. To not see a parent show up a field day. The overwhelming response of awe and stupor if she does. The expectation itself is that of a lacking child.

Because I have been hungry for all the things I have wanted and desired. Not wanting to be selfish, for I have been known to be by my family. So unfair. For they only saw the talents and surety of my innate skillset of telling stories, curiosity and working hard to gain knowledge that comes from my love of reading and words. Because I never asked for what I wanted or needed. Because I was focused on keeping the peace. Because I was afraid. Of the noise, the people and all the baggage of expectations. Therefore, seeking solace of solitude. Not wanting to be around so many people. Avoiding gatherings. Becoming allergic to expectations from and by others. Because I had created impossible expectations of myself, which I have now grown too old of. Too tired of.

Because, even though as I was a child. I could see things for what they were. Everyone was doing their best. I didn’t want to add to everyone’s burden. The reasoning of a child.

Because I have been cheating. I have been lying. I have been starving. The most important person.

Taking responsibility for others. The burden of others. My small body carrying too much.

And so, I must have been so tired. And so, I think I must eat. To fill myself in ways that couldn’t be served. And as I write, I know this is true. The painful truth. What does Gabor Mate say? Why the addiction? What is the benefit?

To feed myself. To take care of myself. To become whole. To honor the most important person: me.

So instead of feeling bad about these surges of heaviness to feed myself, I give myself compassion. I give myself praises for trying to take care of myself. For wanting to overfeed, for the fear of not having enough. To protect myself for not standing out and being pretty. The remnants of the past still working themselves out of me. Like the stones I feel below my feet as I hike today. Today is cold, yet the stones hot. Because yesterday, the sun was out.

I write to myself, for myself. Acknowledging my own addiction. My own suffering and sadness that is not all of me. Yet, a part of me. I must honor and take care of, this part of me. That still live within the deepest corner of my heart that is soft and small. Yet the strongest organ that never stops working.

Now that you’ve found the apartment of your convenience, we have to go and see it for ourselves. First, figure out what is important to you.

1. Can you live in a studio? I cannot. I need a separate living space from the bedroom.

2. Are you noise sensitive? What kind of noise? If you are living on the main road, and you cannot go to sleep with loud noise, avoid main roads.

If you’re on a side street, and one-way road, the noise level will be significantly reduced.

3. Do they allow short term rentals like airbnb?

Expect to see people going in and out, dragging their suitcases. It will be a bit more disarray because people living there long-term takes care of their space.

Expect to hear loud noises and parties on weekends.

4. Do you need parking? Can you live with street parking?

5. Do you need a bathtub?

6. How about the unit within the apartment itself? Higher floors are safer and more shielded from the noises. Is it an end unit? Is it near the staircase and elevators?

7. Go visit the place during high traffic hours and assess the flow of people in and out.

8. Ask what types of people live here? What kind of cars are parked? What kind of clothes are on the lines?

9. Turn on all the taps and see if water comes out and drains. Open everything and see that they work. Open the windows and doors. You’d be surprised to see how many things don’t work. Assess their reaction.

10. Who are you speaking to? Are they agents or owners? How involved are the owners? How do they manage repairs and maintenance?

11. Get a copy of the Body Corporate Rules – Very important – Confirm the short term/long term rentals and how well they manage the place.

12. What is the lease period and annual escalations?

13. Can you sublet and get a roommate? As long as you stay within the maximum # of occupants.

*If you are buying, get a copy of the last three years AGM minutes and financials.

Trying to tie new knots. Tying them tight.
Twirls of twils, closely bound. Who did this? Fingers strain to find a slack. The ends fray and oxygen gets in. Seeing the light in between the spin. At the end of the rope, I hold on, suddenly caught off guard, the jerking motion twists my entire body. I awaken to see the knot that is not. The other end of the rope belonging to no one, the end of the line. I think I’m twisting. But I am wrong. I am coming undone. Unswisting. Untwinning. Unwound. Unbound.

Is this why we seek the familiar? Tightly wound braids. Pretty, strong and stable, tethering us to the end of the line? Knowing that to unravel means to have splintered fingers, jagged edges of the pavement cutting into our very surface? Towards the end, there is a free fall towards freedom? And before it, the tumble and drying cycle, the undoing of the past knots. For how long? And how fast? How many generations are you undoing? Is it a part of your life? Is it even yours? Does it include your parents? Their siblings? Their parents too?

What I see is too bare to keep my eyes open. The lies I used to tell. Not lies back then. Logic of a work in progress brain development. The story of a child.

About a month ago, I saw the threads I used to create a tapestry of my own worlds, using the evaporative imagination of my mind. Why evaporative? Because at the time of creation, it was the water I created to keep myself sustained, floating and wrapped, suspended. To feel everything and nothing. Holding my breath, not letting air escape out of me. Like a gumby. Stay upright and make no noise.

To exhale is to let go of the breath. Intuitively knowing the oxygen I breathe in can kill me. Carbon dioxide, the byproduct of blood oxygenation.

Letting go, I rise. At the surface, I see the sun. Intuitively, I arch my back and gasp for air, letting it fill my lungs, all the way to the bottom of my abdomen. In and out, ragged breath that slows. And the thrashing of the arms and legs, coming back to life. This stillness, the frozen frame. What kind of a movie is this? Until the feet find a hold, and I stand up. Water shakes and dries.

And like this, everything evaporates. The only water is the sweat that beads off my forehead.

While freeing, it is dizzying. What I had believed to be true. The definition. The meaning of life. Of love. Core ingredients of wanting, longing and defending. Untrue. Not at all.

Vapidity of it all. Mistaking flow for motion. Mistaking sacrifice for love. Mistaking so many things.

And to open my eyes. To see the reality of the situation. The awakening.

It hurts. The heart clenching and unclenching. Letting go of childish ways. The brown bear with dull eyes look back at me. To let go of the plush toy that I used to hold so dear. Mistaking it again for the love that it is not.

Yesterday, as I slowly exhaled, moving one leg after one another. Clear blue skies, no sign of winter or rain. Heaven opens up, in a shape of V. Is it a victory sign? I look behind me to see the infinite rays of the sun warming my back. I keep moving forward, thinking I did well to leave the busy Lion’s Head. Too many cars parked and too many people to fight up the peak and back. Turning around and driving towards Table Mountain. To parking and walking, doubting myself. Did I miss the turn off? Is this where we were last time? Passing a pair of people with speaker of music on. How many bends do I turn? Until I see the pathways I don’t remember. Because I was with someone else last time. Who knew the way. Who set up the hike. Thank you for showing me the way. You and you and you. All of you.

About an hour to summit. Double the distance from the Lion’s Head. Do I have time to walk down? Not enough time. And I don’t have sunscreen in my bag. I get a season’s pass and ride down with two local hikers.

Tried a new mountain, and I liked it.

This morning, I tried a new incense brand. Second scent. Didn’t like either. And so, not everything new that I try, I like.

To Platteklip Gorge of endless stairs. To leaving the gorge of darkness and using our own legs to climb out. To waving and wading. To rising to the surface, to feel the sweat beading off our entire body.

To rainy days like this.

A trifecta of meditation, promenade walk, and catching up at Norfolk Deli with a flat white and almond milk.

To boundaries, the art of staying open while saying ‘no’ and walking away. To free up space and time. Boundaries keep the good in. Shuts out the bad. Too big and tall, nothing good can get in. Too small and porous, everything leaks.

This is what happens with leaky gut. The thin lining of our intestines leaking food. Sounds disgusting, doesn’t it? It is, sort of.

This pendulum, that goes from the extreme left, right, and settling down in the middle.

A new manager I hired into my team, I have been too soft. Lesson learned? Trust is earned with daily deposits. Individual contributor, he has been excelling at work, probably the best in his team. Except, he has no line management or portfolio ownership experience. Therefore, lacking core muscles of getting things done and holding people accountable. Basic project management skills is missing, in how to divvy up the work, set milestones, deliverables and link it to an individual and team.

The importance of consequence management. Creating friction to let the team know that if they don’t do what is required, they will be found out. Not a threat. It’s like getting caught for speeding with CCTV. Sometimes, you get away with it. Other times, you may be caught by a police or good samaritan.

How do I set the right controls, check ins and boundaries to incentivize people to show up on time and in full? With accountability and incentiive to do what is right? WIth respect and humility? Maybe, lead by example, and showcase the value of hard work.

To boundaries, I say thanks for reminding me keep the appropriate distance. If it’s raining, the distance between the cars are wider. To compensate for longer braking and higher probability of accidents with skids, people not knowing how to drive in the rain, in cars that are not roadworthy.

I am the car, trying to keep a safe distance in between traffic. Letting some people in, and letting people out of my car.

The last record? 6 days in a row of morning and evening meditations.

Today is the first day of morning meditation starting at 4am.

Celtic Cross from a month ago compared to two nights ago showed me how quickly things change.

Like yesterday and day before. Despite it having rained and winter blanketing us with cold tempatures, it was warm and clear. Runners with just shorts on, with people hanging out at the beach.

A reminder to use the opportunity during the lifetime of the opportunity. No point going for a walk in the rain, if you are wanting to bask in the sun with no sleeves.

On the right, cads 7, 8, 9 and 10. I get The Devil Reversed, 9 of Cups Reversed, 8 of Wands Reversed and 8 of Swords Reversed.

Telling me I am ready to break from old habits and limiting beliefs, I must do do with careful discernment and patience. By seeing clearly and consciously before charging ahead. Moving away from knowledge and speed. Towards wisdom and setting direction before getting on my chariot and charging ahead. Remembering that I am fast and steadfast. Imagine where I will be with a clear north star and compass to with clear azimuth to get there. Together, as a team.

And so, setting realistic goals aligned to SMART would be most appropriate. Finishing the one project at work I’ve been nursing and ignoring. Finding and reapplying for the piece of important piece of paper work. Moving forward away from the word I have grown to dislike: Procrastination.

Set a fun goal. Like be invited to do a night of Improv. Because I like story telling and putting myself in front of crowds. I told a story in elementary school, winning second prize. Innate interest that could turn into talent.

Writing for myself. Living for myself. Because my tendency is to overpour into others. And this, while appearing generous is the opposite. It feeds the ego and causes distraction. Creating haze and confusion in the mind and those around me.

Not unlike applying filters to every picture, afraid to see our true selves. Disliking wrinkles and frown lines. After just a few clicks, we don’t know what we look like. Reminding me of The Picture of Dorian Gray. How we are driven by superficial beauty. Doing everything for status and relative betterness, that we rot inside, not feeing the soul that gave us life. Every breath we take, a blessing of the insides.

Here is day 1 of a longer streak. They say the last mile is the longest. I think it’s the funnest.

This love letter goes to stewing. Simmering. Being clear with what we want before applying more heat, before burning the pot. Setting things on fire, and things becoming inedible.

Instead, letting the flavor seep. All the ingredients working together, creating the most fragrant and wholesome meal for the community to share. A moment to be savored, but not for too long. Catch and release. Every time.

To moving forward and using the inertia to leap frog before the lull,

When I asked the Monk how to live a balanced life? While I struggle to get to the middle, the middle way, I find myself being compassionate with self when lazy. Berating myself when I’m doing too much. Doing too much and doing too little.

He says it requires trial and error. We’re like crash test dummies driving cars, getting hit, hitting the edges as we drive. Sometimes the car throws us out, and sometimes seat belts restrain us. Or it’s like walking outside and falling into a hole. The first time, it takes massive energy and effort. The second time, we go outside, fall into a hole. And this time, it’s easier to get out.

We go outside, fall into a hole. We find it even easier to get out.

We go outside, fall into a hole. And it takes less effort.

Then one day, we go outside. We see the hole and walk around it.

How many holes have I not seen? How many holes have I ignored? How many holes do I willingly climb into?

No more.

He says the mind cannot be at ease if you are lying. This resonates with me.

One project I’ve been delaying completion on. Why? Because I don’t want to have to say ‘no’ to their request. Because I don’t want them to dislike me. Because I don’t want to show off the work I have not been doing.

Not walking away. Not addressing things when they’re not working out. They are not outright lies. But they are lies that keep my mind focus on these things, because we cannot lie to ourselves.

And so, it’s all about seeing the hole, and choosing to see it. Walk around it. Maybe moving into a different block where there are no holes. Moving to drive in cars, that can take the blunt of many holes.

The monk adds. It’s not just about trial and error. It’s also about merit. What have you done prior to this moment? Maybe you’re wearing a seatbelt. Maybe you took your car for service, so you’re less likely to get hurt.

It reminds me one time in my late teens. Dark, alone, and coasting, I see a highway patrol appear in front of me. Literally out of nowhere. It sways in predictable lines. I try to pull over. I try to pass. The car beckons me to follow it. I do, and I do for a while, my interest piqued. Shaking myself awake.

Then I see it. A couch in the middle of the road. It is 1am. I am in a crappy car. I pass by it, and the highway patrol car disappears. Is this based on merit? Is there an angel?

I cannot answer what I do not know.

What I know is this. There are people and things that are out to help you, even if you don’t ask for it.

What have I learned? That I must go and use my talents and privileges. This is the life I was born into.

And so, with this new skill, I see that I have to continue to sprint. Instead of continuing to train for the marathon. There are many techniques to become stronger and endure more.

And do, here I sit, at Bootlegger, before leaving for the center on the last day. Missing the two morning meditations because I overate. No, the cause was that I went to a comedy show that I was not interested in. My heart wasn’t in it. I wasnt’ in the same frequency as those around me. I was not interested in being there.

And so, here is a love letter to different techniques, different way of doing things, while being clear on the goal and focus of what I am trying to improve on. Meditations. Living in the middle. Becoming more whole. Understanding interdependence that is also called emptiness.

No morning no evening meditations

To learning new techniques,

I went to Kenilworth buddhist center to learn different way of meditating. A three-day course given by an ordained Monk. Not Vipassana. Shinay. Eyes open. Five minute intervals. The first, Shinay to calm the mind. The second five minutes, think of one of the Four Truths: Human Rebirth, Impermanence, Karmic cause and effect, Suffering.

Following from Friday’s motivation, I focused on Human Rebirth. The monk spoke of our privilege. We have idle time to be here.

We have disposable income. We don’t have to be out making the ends barely meet, sitting here. Privilege to be here to learn new skills to live a better life.

We have disposable time. Is this leisure? We don’t have to be out taking care of others and serving customers.

We have able body to sit upright to meditate.

We speak Enlighs, which enables us to undersatnd the techniques and ask questions as we go. We have food to eat and dishes to bring potluck style lunch to feast together.

Human rebirth. Privileges. My story. My life.

How do I feel? Stay here for five minutes.

Human rebirth. More privileges. Abundant giving by those not related to me. Not from a mother. Not from a father. Universal care givers who have something extra to give.

How do I feel? Stay here for five minutes.

The monk chimes the gonk twice to end this 40-minutes of meditations.

With eyes open, the lull of a sleep is less, and I have more awareness of what I need to do. With privilege and power, I am seeing my blessings. My abundance.

What do I do to steer my life 1 degree better than the last?