February 12, 2023

You never know where life will take you. Lately, I've been on quite an unexpected journey. I've taken a new direction with my work that I never anticipated, but I'm enjoying it immensely. 

It all started when a friend asked for my help with architectural drawings for his construction company. With my background in architecture, I thought it would be a fun way to flex my creative/technical muscles again. After a few weeks, they offered me a more permanent position, and I decided to take the leap. Now, I spend my days managing construction projects with Hieron London. 

I never saw myself working in construction again, but it's been a nice change of pace. It's been a journey of ups and downs, but I'm genuinely excited about where it's taking me. I enjoy practical pursuits and seeing the results of my work. It's fulfilling to see existing living spaces stripped out and rebuilt to create something new; develop gyms and wellness spaces from empty shells. 

Hieron London grew out of Perium Fitness, which manufactured, supplied, and installed fitness and wellness spaces. While we still specialise in those areas, we're working on more than gyms. The wellness side of things is our strength, and we're constantly probing how to create spaces conducive to physical and mental wellbeing. 

This new direction has allowed me to investigate the interrelation of two fields I've spent time working in - construction/architecture and wellness/fitness. I feel like I'm in the perfect position to study this intersection further. I'm excited to see what the future holds.

In short, life has taken me in an unexpected direction, but I'm embracing it fully.

August 9, 2022

A month ago, I went away to sit crosslegged facing a wall for eight hours a day. I was on a meditation retreat - a total of three days of meditation practice in silence and away from the day-to-day stimulation of the big city. I have done several of these retreats in the last year, and it's curious how my experience has changed and morphed over time. The first two retreats were very much like the "work". The stuff within me was unravelling, and I was lucky enough to have a teacher who could guide me. All the insights were primarily about my past experiences and how they shaped me.

I came into the first three-day retreat with an approach to meditation where I would not exert any effort to let go of thoughts or wrestle my mind into submission by performing strict mental gymnastics. I found pleasure in sitting and letting my mind do its own thing. Of course, I would go on long tangents of thoughts and mental images. But occasionally, I would be lucky, and my mind would settle into a magical stillness that didn't require any of my willpower. Or, at times, a revelation or insight would bubble up. Something would click in my mind, and suddenly my perspective of myself or the world would change, which would be this "big" thing I just discovered through persistent sitting.

At the last couple of retreats, the teacher would gently nudge me to find more concentration in my sitting and not entirely let my mind wander where it pleases. But more intently bringing it back to the object of concentration. It became a subtle and curious dance in finding the right amount of effort. How can I concentrate without trying too hard? I am still working on it, but I admit that I was surprised by the intensity of concentration that can arise without it being an exercise of grasping and willpower.

As my practice changed over the last retreat, I found that now I didn't have any massive revelations about myself, my life, or the human experience. I got an indescribable sense of ordinariness. The ordinariness of my experience as a human - living this life, doing the ordinary things and being in strange awe of the most everyday things. Being excited and fascinated by mundane life and how magical this ordinariness is. Maybe a better way of putting it is that I didn't want to be special at that moment. I didn't want to be someone exceptional, someone, who has to be continuously improved for the self-perception of success or uniqueness. At that moment ordinariness of my existence was an extraordinary thing.

It didn't feel that suddenly I had arrived, and everything would be blissful and happy from that moment forward. And I could live in the countryside to grow vegetables with a perpetual grin on my face. I felt a sense of contentment with what is. Sense of joy that I can do the things I want to do, that I don't have to overthink how meaningful or not is what I do. I don't have to obsess about making myself and my life more special than it is. Simply because it already is remarkable in its magical ordinariness.

May 17, 2022

The only constant in our lives is the change. Change happens in the world around us - situations, people, careers, the weather! In the past, I had a sense that I had to round just another corner, then I could relax. Just one more milestone reached, and I can coast along not just in goal-oriented pursuits but in life in general. 

But the break never comes, life keeps flowing and changing constantly, and I have to flow along with it. It can be frustrating, especially with my future-oriented way of thinking. Even though I'm getting better at countering these patterns and appreciating the moments I'm experiencing, the pattern is still there.

Life is in constant flux, and the best we can do is to flow with it. It can be uneasy to think that things will keep changing. At the same time, it can be freeing because none of our decisions or situations are final. How often is it a challenge to decide about a career path, a relationship, or even choose something from a restaurant menu?

Remembering that this moment will pass can allow us to have a lighter grip on things. Knowing that the big decision or situation we face is just another step along a winding road. We can plan and predict, but ultimately we can't understand how our choices will play out. And perhaps remembering that it's not the final decision we are making and that we can adjust along the way can make it a little easier.

When I'd be in a difficult situation or uncertain about my path going forward, I'd inevitably hear a piece of advice along the lines of - "this too shall pass". Or I'd try to centre myself in the thought that this is just a rough patch I have to weather. This perspective would alleviate some discomfort and anxiety.

There would also be the times when circumstances would align, things would flow, and I'd feel like I couldn't help but keep winning every time. It feels like I have arrived in that moment. Everything is excellent, all my struggles and internal battles are past me, and I'm on a trajectory forward and upward. 

It had me reflect and realise, and I was reluctant to admit that this too shall pass. This is another of those passing waves that I'm surfing on top of, thinking I totally got this. I had to consciously remind myself that this wave could crash or simply fizzle out, and I could be in the low again. This realisation helped me keep my head level and not to get too attached to things as they are.

Since I acknowledged to myself that it works both ways. When things would change, and I'd find myself in a situation where I feel like things are not going my way, it would be easier to believe myself when I'm reminded: "this too shall pass". And the best I can do is appreciate wherever I'm in and try to let go of my attachment to how I think life should be and how I'd like to feel. So then, I can truly embrace the ever-changing nature of my experience.

April 29, 2022

What is intuition? Is it something supernatural, vague and reserved for those who are not good at rational decision making? Or maybe it's our brains processing more data points below our conscious awareness and presenting the results of those calculations in a subtle, non-verbal format? Explanations might be different, but the subjective experience is the same. The question is, are you listening?

Have you seen the Spiderman comics or cartoons? The masked superhero would get the "spider-sense" - sensing the danger moments before something unexpected would happen. What if Spiderman had the same sense for making decisions? Less ominous and more of a helpful nudge in the right direction.

What if we all had the "spider-sense"? Would we be able to let go of the desire to control ourselves and the world around us? Would we be clinging less to the way we think things should be?

Anxiety often comes from excessive rumination about the future. Trying to predict and anticipate the situations that haven't happened yet. Summing it up, most of us suffer more from the things that never happened than from those that did. I believe that learning to listen and then following our intuition would allow us to be less anxious about the future.

I believe there is power in surrender. Letting go of the need to control oneself and the world can help reduce the feelings of anxiety. And I would argue that with less rumination and anxiety, we're more present with real situations that are right in front of us (not in our imaginations). Allowing us to adjust to circumstances with a sense of relinquishment and trust. Trust in that gut feeling to nudge you in the right direction.

Reflecting on my past, now I must admit that most of the crucial decisions that I made were not based on rational analysis and objective weighing of the potential options. If I had relied solely on that, I'd still be climbing the corporate ladder, and you wouldn't be reading this since I would have never made the jump and followed my gut feeling in pursuing the thread of learning about breathing and meditation.

At the same time, I thought that I was making purely rational decisions over the years. It was some sort of cognitive dissonance where I thought I was working everything out, weighing the options in my mind and making the decision. Where, in truth, I end up following the direction I feel I have to pursue, and once I'm on the chosen path, I use my rationality to work out the logical structure of how I'll achieve what I set out to achieve.

Through reflection, I have learned for myself not to worry too much about what comes next. I can't predict the future, and it would be foolish to assume that with the limited computing power of my brain, I can calculate all the variables of the volatile world. I've learned to trust that I have a "spider-sense" of sorts - intuition, gut-feeling, whatever you want to call it - that will nudge me in the right direction.

I believe you have it too. But the question is - are you listening?

March 17, 2022

My friend invited me to join a group of men for a weekend of slowing down, connecting, training and a plant medicine ceremony. Going in, I knew only a couple of people who would be attending. I didn't have many expectations. All I knew was that I could use a weekend in the countryside. Jiu-Jitsu was on the menu, so no doubt I'd have a good time hanging out. 

But it became more than I expected. We started the weekend with a BJJ class - instantly, we all had something in common. I don't know of a quicker way to get to know someone's character than to grapple with them. After two BJJ sessions, the ice was broken. We shared meals and many conversations leading up to the main event - the plant ceremony. 

I'm sure you're aware of this form of therapy that can profoundly affect one's mental health and improve the general outlook on life. More and more countries are starting to approve its use in clinical studies, treating anxiety, depression and PTSD with these compounds that are readily available in nature. 

The time came to gather in a circle and share. What surprised me in the best possible way was how willing men were to open up and go to the root causes of their inner suffering that they are not expressing or releasing in daily life. The leader facilitating the circle started by sharing his story, which allowed the rest of us to communicate openly and vulnerably. Having had earlier grappling sessions opened us up to a deep level of respect and trust for each other. I genuinely felt it was a safe space to share and express the challenges that I'm facing and things that now I've been working out and releasing for years. 

I felt the comradery and uplifted spirits approaching the ceremony. When I started to feel the effects of the medicine, I experienced gripping fear. For a moment, I thought this would be a challenging few hours, something that I've already had in the past, and I was anxious to re-experience again. But when I opened my eyes, I saw that I was not alone. I saw facilitators that made the space feel safe and protected, and other men went into this with courage, open mind and heart. 

Whenever my experience brought up challenging visions, I felt reassured that I was not alone. It gave me a sense of safety to go deeper, regardless of what I'd have to face in the inner world that now was turned inside out. Usually, I would always choose to go alone in any self-exploration or experience where I'd have to face myself, but this time was different. It made me realise that I'm not alone and don't have to face the challenges alone. There are others around me that I can rely on and be supported by, which was an excellent reminder. Not only for the challenging inner journeys that I undertake but generally in life. I remembered - I'm not alone. 

February 16, 2022

For lack of better description, the field of wellness has to offer many things. On the infinite world wide web, we can find every kind of piece of advice, practice or routine. We can take up different approaches from HIIT to sound healing, from making green smoothies to taking exotic nootropics. 

I'm sure you've tried different diets and supplements, classes or training routines. Perhaps some of them have become part of your daily life. Maybe you've even taken it quite far out to get into an ice bath once or twice - some practices you enjoyed and some of them not that much. I believe the wealth of information that we have access to is fantastic. It allows us to find the best way to improve our physical and mental health, also the way we show up in the world - our "performance". 

I want to use the word habit, but these practices can become more than just habits. I believe a big part of figuring out what works for you is trying it out, but simply trying it out is not enough to make a lasting difference. You have to apply it. And I don't mean applying what you've learned for a couple of weeks. But to use it long term. 

For example, the serious-sounding practice of intermittent fasting is not something I must force myself to follow. It also doesn't feel like a habit that must be consciously maintained, or otherwise, I'll lose it. Now delaying the first meal of the day and not eating late at night is part of me. I don't need to think about it. I don't need to worry if I might fall off the habit. 

Similarly, meditation is like brushing teeth in the morning for me. I naturally want to sit down to be quiet for even just ten minutes with my eyes closed. Sometimes I'm fully absorbed in following my breath, but I'm caught up in random thoughts more often. It's beyond a habit for me. It's something that I am. Strangely, I feel that it's not even a habit that I must keep in my life. I feel at ease with the idea that I won't be "formally" meditating at some point. It has become part of me. 

Sure, at first, any new routine or practice might take time to establish. It might take some mental effort and dedication. But then it can become not just a habit, but second nature. Sometimes I meet people who say that routines are not for them and prefer to go with the flow. My question then would be:" do you go with the flow about brushing your teeth as well? Sometimes do, sometimes don't?" We are creatures of habit more than we would like to admit to ourselves. Chances are, you perform many actions in your day that are reflexive. It's normal since we all are biological creatures, and our brains efficiently save energy and reduce decision fatigue. 

A little self-awareness can go a long way, coupled with actively choosing what you want to do repeatedly will shape your health, wellbeing and "performance". You will be repeating the same things every day, so you might as well choose consciously. Indeed, we are what we repeatedly do.

February 1, 2022

I had one of those mornings when I was in a rush and had to get a taxi, or I'd miss my train. I was in Riga, a city with narrow streets, lots of cars and heavy snowfall. Once I was in the cab, the conversation started. The driver began by telling me about his long-distance drives, occasionally taking people to other cities. He added that if I ever need to go to another town, he'd be happy to help. He insisted I take his number. 

The traffic was moving slowly at this time of the day. There was time to chat, not much time till my train, though. He told me stories about people he's been driving and general traffic-related complaints. At one point, he asked me what I did for a living. With some hesitancy, I answered that I teach breathing, something like meditation. Surprisingly, he responded that he's already done it. For a moment, I thought that he would be someone who already knows everything that there is to know. We were stuck in traffic, so I had nothing better to do than to ask him questions about what he meant by saying that he's "done it already". 

He began telling me that meditation is not for him - he can't sit still for too long. But one of the ways he used to access "a meditative state" in daily life was by eating a raw food diet. He believed that he could keep his body pure and raise the "vibration" of his consciousness this way. Apparently, it worked. He spent several years eating in this manner and was perpetually in a heightened state of awareness. I don't recall why he stopped the diet, but he definitely added a joke about the extra weight he packed on without "meditation". 

He shared a realisation he had from his exploration. He believed that no matter what we do, we are in some sort of a flow, or as he described it - a river. It doesn't matter how much we flounder; we're in it. So the wise thing is to align yourself with this flow instead of fighting against the current. Make the most of what is in front of you instead of wishing for something different. He believed we didn't have much choice. The best we can do is to relax, align ourselves with "the river", and adjust accordingly to the circumstances that present themselves. 

He added that he wasn't always a cab driver. He did many things, owned businesses and travelled to many countries. But at this moment in life, he felt that he had to be a cab driver - driving people and speaking to them. He believed it was his purpose to have conversations with strangers who sat in his car. He thought that it was the right thing to do right now. 

He told me another story. Once a passenger on a long journey shared with him that she was in a high corporate position and had all the wealth to wish for. But still, she didn't love what she was doing. Through the conversation, he learned that she loved dogs. He told her what was evident to him - that she has to work with dogs! As the story goes, after a long time of silence, she proclaimed that she'd quit her job and pursue what she loved. She was convinced and committed to making a change in her life. 

I have no way of telling how true this story was and did she actually pursue what she loved. Regardless, it makes for a nice story. A cab driver who's doing what he's called to do: drive a car, listen to people and tell them the truth. In my mind - not bad for a contribution to fellow humans. Following the flow of life and being content with what is.

January 22, 2022

I think too much. I actually think all the time - nonstop. People often remark that I come across calm and collected. It might seem that my mind is equanimous most of the time, but that's far from true. My mind never stops, and that's no different from anyone else. 

The human mind is a blessing and a curse. It can produce complex future simulations, replay the past in vivid detail, and combine different ideas to create something totally new. We have to thank the human mind for its analytical ability. Without it, we wouldn't be where we are now - with an excess of comfort and safety in the modern world (in developed countries). Same time, the mind can be the biggest hindrance when the replay of the past function has gotten out of control. We constantly live through the unpleasant, traumatic experiences from the past or cling to the pleasant experiences from the present. Or we live in an endless simulation of the future, where based on the uncomfortable things from the past, it projects similar scenarios into the future. We get caught up in one or the other. 

I'm personally no different. I tend to live in the future, usually not satisfied with the present. My mind preoccupies itself with pondering the subsequent actions and possible outcomes that those actions will produce (based on limited data from my past). Perhaps through nature or nurture, I've developed quite collected character where I'm aware of the outward expressions of my thoughts and emotions. While on the inside, my mind never stops. Intense and transformative breathwork experiences combined with daily long-term meditation practice have given me enough insight to analyse my own thoughts and emotions. This is excellent, but on the other hand, it can lead to even more self-analysis, self-absorption and self-loathing. So the main challenge for me is to know the difference between thinking and overthinking. 

Not all thinking is the same. How often have you been in a challenging situation where you try to work out every step of the way forward? Trying to control your actions and the results that they'll produce. Do you sometimes find that the situation plays out entirely different, sometimes even simpler or better than expected? And you're left wondering, what was all that struggle for? I've been there more times than I'd like to admit. 

Sometimes, what does the trick for me is the attitude of surrender, which doesn't come easy for me - as someone whose lifelong hobby is hand to hand combat with skilled and resisting opponents. But I'm getting there, often reminding myself that I don't have to have everything worked out and that the correct action will be apparent at the right time. But if I constantly try to figure out that action, I might miss it in plain sight. 

What over the years have done the trick for me is reading Tao De Ching, and I've read several translations/interpretations of it. The most recent version I'm reading is Francis Pring-Mill's "In Harmony with the Tao". It again reminded me that it's not about "doing" but about taking the "right action".

January 11, 2022

Homecoming played out differently than I expected. But it brought some important realisations. You'll probably know that I've decided to relocate back to my home country of Latvia at the end of the last year. I distinctly remember the evening I was sat in a pub in Hackney with a big group of friends. Most were wondering why I decided to leave London. I must admit that my decision didn't make all that much sense at the time. My teaching and coaching work was in full swing; I was spending time with some of the most interesting people I know; I was training jiu-jitsu in one of the best places in the UK; everything seemed to be just fine. What's not to like? Why would I leave? I couldn't really explain it. I felt that I needed to follow through on a choice that I'd made earlier that year. The intention of returning to my home country came after spending six months travelling. My gut feeling was telling me that I had to do it.

Arriving in Riga was quite strange. I left London where the restrictions were relatively reasonable, while Latvia was in total lockdown. It took me a couple of weeks to get the "feel" for the general attitude in the country. And it was quite a surprise. In the UK (perhaps only within the bubble of people around me), the attitude towards individual health choices was quite liberal. Whilst in Latvia, it felt like there was a big divide. People seemed to be on one side of the argument or the other. It got to the point where people without vaccination passports couldn't go to any public places (apart from small local supermarkets), there were separate carriages in trains. Worst of all, people couldn't legally do their jobs without a vaccination passport. I was in the situation were to organise a workshop in Riga, I would have to check if someone attending had a vaccination passport. And if they didn't, I would have to turn them away. I don't know what the correct answer is in this case. But I'm sure I don't want to be adding to the divide by telling someone they can't attend my class because they are making a sovereign health choice. So, for now, my plans for organising events in Latvia are on pause. I hope, really hope that by the spring, restrictions have eased up, and we can all be together in one place - undivided.

Spending two months living in my home country without a return ticket made me realise that I no longer feel like a stranger. If you have lived abroad for a long time, you'll know the sense you get that you are a guest in the country you're staying in, but with time you also become a stranger at the place you are coming from. More than ten years have gone by since I left. In the past, I felt like I needed to break away from the culture I had been conditioned into. To be free to live anywhere I choose and not fearfully cling to the familiar social order. During my stay in Riga, I felt less like a stranger. I started meeting fascinating people and reconnecting with old friends. My home country began to feel like a place that could feel like home again.

After two months of uncertainty with the politics in the country, I decided to get on the road again. I decided to spend a few weeks in Mallorca and Ibiza visiting friends before the planned teaching in London in February. Leaving Latvia didn't feel like much of a disappointment, considering my original plan. On the contrary, now I feel even more freedom to travel. Coming home helped me integrate a part of me that was in opposition to living in Latvia. Integrate the unconscious belief that I can be comfortable anywhere globally, but my home country is complicated! Paradoxically, after deciding to return home, I feel freer to be nomadic than ever before. I've reached the point where I'm not "moving away", but I'm "moving towards" the place I want to be.

I don't know what the future brings, how the world will look in a few months. But I'm sure Latvia will be the place I call home; so will London be, so the rest of the world.

November 16, 2021

A few weeks ago, I attended a two day and a half meditation retreat. It came about quite accidentally. Out of all places, someone reading my earlier newsletter told me about a community in London that practices Zen. After a quick search online, I realised that they are having a Sesshin (Zen term for a retreat) precisely at the odd time when I was planning time off. I signed up without even knowing anything about the teacher, the practice or even the retreat structure. 

I figured that ahead of the retreat, it would be wise to check out the Zen group. I did so on a Tuesday afternoon and ended up sitting in meditation for several hours. I discovered that part of learning Zen is something called Dokusan, an interview with the teacher, where the student can bring questions and discuss the experience of sitting. On that same Tuesday afternoon, I had my first chat with the teacher, and she asked me: "So, what do you do when you sit?" and my answer was: "I kinda do nothing". Her reply to my strange answer was: "Great! Keep doing just that". So I went off and continued my sitting with little to no effort in trying to pin down my mind. 

Already at the retreat, I continued my non-effort meditation. After several hours I started wondering, maybe I should make a bit of focused effort? I decided to focus on counting my breaths, simply going from 1 to 10. I liked how the teacher explained it to me. It wasn't a way of restraining the mind. It was more subtle. Basically, she told me to "be the breath". And it totally made sense at the time! If you've practised or have read Zen philosophy, you'll know what I mean. 

When I first sat down with a "concentrated" approach, I felt as if some part of me wanted to throw a tantrum in protest of this restraint. And I couldn't resist softening my focus. I started to get a sense of the right effort. I stopped trying to shut out my thinking. I was "becoming the breath". I could be immersed in the experience of breathing without drifting with thoughts. At the same time, I could notice the contents of my consciousness without totally dismissing and shutting out whatever was surfacing. 

At some point, I didn't even know where the question appeared: "Who am I?" I kept repeating it, or the question kept repeating itself? I'm not entirely sure. It went on, and I realised I was meditating on this question. Suddenly I realised that there was only a question, but no answer. I wasn't trying to answer this question. There was just the question and no response, just an empty gap for an answer. I realised that in the past, this question would have to be immediately filled, almost compulsively. Over the years, must have answers would have been: a student, fighter,  architect, breathwork teacher, yoga instructor, personal trainer, coach. These definitions had to be immediately slotted in, not to feel the tension of not having an answer. I was sitting with the gap - space of no answer. No need for an answer! I felt like something had changed. The answer wasn't even that I was "nobody"; there simply was no answer. 

At the next Dokusan, I shared my experience. As I discussed it, I realised that having no answer to who I am was a space of potential. I felt free from needing to fit in some specific category and make sense to myself and the people around me. I felt freer to be myself. Whatever that means, or however it changes from moment to moment. 

Now I recognise that this realisation was not final. I felt it, I understood it, but I know that tension will inevitably appear. Someone will ask me: "so what do you do?" or I'll have to send in my bio and workshop description for a corporate company. Maybe I'll just wake up one morning with anxiety and no clue what I should be doing next with my life. But I know that I'll be able to remember this experience of not needing an answer to the question "who am I?". 

I can't tell how big or small this realisation will be in the long run. I know that life continues as it previously did. Maybe I'll feel a little less bound by needing to be a certain way or try to make sense of what I do for a living. I feel a little less serious about myself. I'm sure if I had gone into this retreat with some sort of dilemma to work out, I would still be working it out. I probably would have been sitting, wincing and trying to understand who am I.

November 8, 2021

I've moved back to my home country of Latvia. This decision didn't come spontaneously at all; it grew on me through the last year. I've spent the first six months of 2021 travelling and living in different countries, which was a long-time dream. Freedom to choose a place I want to live in and genuinely feel at home in any country, reducing my attachment and need to be in one particular area. In a short 6-month stint of digital nomad living, I started to realise that there are some things I'm still missing, like knowing where is the kettle to make my morning coffee in this new Airbnb. But most importantly, friends, family and close community. 

Since age 16, I've been living in dorms, shared flats and all kinds of strange places. Over the years, having as few possessions as possible became almost a compulsion. I would consider how long, how often, and on how many different occasions I could use one item of clothing that I was about to buy. All this made me embrace minimalism with what I own. At age 31, I still own only what I can carry by myself to the airport. 

With the freedom of possessions I've been cultivating for years and remote work becoming a norm, oddly, the only destination that was on my mind was Latvia. The place I left more than 10 years ago with little desire to return and a much bigger urge to break out of social conditioning and limited view of the world I received from growing up in a struggling country. That still is recovering from 50 years of Soviet oppression. To say the least, I wasn't looking back. And here I was, feeling that the only way forward was going back. 

The last couple of months that I've spent in the UK were truly rewarding. I had many opportunities of teaching at life-changing retreats, holding space in workshops and in-person private sessions. I connected with truly remarkable people and spent time with some of my closest friends. My decision wasn't made easier by the announcement of a national lockdown in Latvia a week before my moving date. To say the least, I was asking myself: "am I really doing this, leaving London and moving to Riga where now I barely know anyone?" With all the doubt, I still had the feeling that I had to follow through on what I intuited to be the true choice for me. 

Here I am writing this (again in another Airbnb), still feeling that I've made the right decision to follow my intuition, even if it made little sense rationally. I intend to create a space where people can come for a retreat, getting to experience the indescribable feeling of quiet in Latvian nature. I don't know how it's going to happen. I only know that I have to keep my mind clear to see when the right opportunity or insight arrives. And to follow through on it.

October 6, 2021

How often do you get to play? How often do you get to do something only because it's something you want to do?  I often see myself prioritising movement that "makes sense" to do. It makes sense to exercise to keep my body strong. It makes sense to use programming principles to cover most movement patterns in my all too serious strength training.

Even with Jiu-Jitsu, I have a tendency to slip into taking it too seriously, thinking I need to get better at this. Thinking of how I can structure my training that covers most skills I have to learn to keep progressing and getting better. Even though when I stop and consider it, I know that I'm not an athlete. I don't really need to get much better at it. I move and train because I enjoy it, that's it. If I'm honest with myself, I can also recognise that I'm doing better at Jiu-Jitsu when I'm not taking it too seriously. Maybe it's an objective improvement. Perhaps it's not. Maybe I just enjoy Jiu-Jitsu more when I do it for the sake of enjoying it.

In the past, I was really interested in the flow state research, reading books and studies. I realised I was learning about a familiar experience, something I had been accessing since childhood through mountain biking, snowboarding and other reckless activities for the sake of having a laugh with my friends. It was fascinating to stumble upon this research and see how my past experiences of these odd states were described in a rational scientific way. I tried too hard to understand these ephemeral states, where what I do seems effortless, where time slows down, or on the other hand, goes by so quickly. This exhilarating feeling of playing right on the edge of my ability.

I was seeking performance. I wanted to figure out these states of consciousness I've experienced through extreme sports and combat martial arts. To capture them, recreate them to learn faster, and get better at things. Now I can recognise that seeking the performance made the essence of these states slip right through my fingers. Leaving me trying to figure things out rationally.

What is the essence of these states of being? States of consciousness where things seem to flow, where activity is effortless and enjoyable, where it becomes play? Would it be more appropriate to call them play-states? Paradoxically, would I learn faster and do better at things if I would bring an attitude of play to it? Would I get better at something without trying too hard at getting better at it?

I believe it's both, it takes commitment and discipline to stick with something for long enough, but with an added element of play, it might just be more fun.

September 30, 2021

I was at a meditation class in a Buddhist centre, listening to the introduction by a devoted seeker. She shared that she doesn't wholly believe in the enlightenment. Because if she would, she would have gone after it with absolute commitment. Dropping all other preoccupations with ordinary life. I could feel her desire to achieve it. Or, more accurately, the want to escape human suffering, the weight of responsibilities, coping with changing tides of her moods and thoughts. 

As I was sitting there and listening, hearing her difficulty and the desire to be free from it all, I realised that I was in the wrong place. I finally had no desire to be anywhere else or evolve into something different than I was there and then. I don't think there is more human potential to squeeze out of me disciplining my ego and body. I'm where I need to be. It's all already within me. I am here and now, and I don't want to be any different. 

I know days will go by. I'll get where I need to be, regardless of how much I tense my willpower muscle and try to keep my flawed nature in check. Not letting my mind get caught up, and working hard on keeping focused on repeating to myself: "may I be happy, may I be well". I'll be me regardless, without wanting to be a better, enlightened version of myself, a version of myself where life becomes bliss, all things are effortless, I have no troubles. Or at least, I'm not bothered by anything. Me being tense and flagellating myself won't make progress faster. There is nowhere to go; it all is happening now. Now is the only thing I've got. 

This realisation came quite spontaneously. It just hit me there and then. Perhaps it came because I've previously learned the meaning of the word "education". The root of the word education means "to bring out, to draw out", which is not about cramming the facts and knowledge into empty and dumb vessels that ought to be refined and conditioned. 

I've learned that I can write and express myself creatively after being told that I've got it all within me already. I have to allow it to flow and not get in the way. Get in the way with my wishes and preconceived notions of how it should be, what should I be doing and creating. I'm still learning this through holding space for others, feeling the power of stepping aside to let inspiration take over, let the creativity flow from me. Or maybe through me, I don't think I'm meant to know where it comes from. 

With this realisation, I feel free to be me. Not needing to progress into something else, something better than what's now. I know times will come when I won't feel like this. Once again, I'll get lost in the maze of my thoughts and emotions. The world around will inevitably bring chaos and disruption, and I'll forget all of this, getting caught up in feeling separate and small. And that's fine - I'm human, having a human experience. That's the beauty and the magic of it all.

September 22, 2021

The last 18 months have given me the space and opportunity to ask myself a question about what would be the most optimal way of living for me. When do I feel most healthy mentally and physically? When is my mind the clearest, and when do I do the best work? I'm sure many of these questions have been on our minds with our usual lifestyles being put on pause, without the certainty that we will get back to things as they used to be.

The first couple of months of the lockdown, I learned that I enjoy having a lot of time to myself without constantly needing to be around other people. It was a welcome break to allow my thoughts to flow. With all this flexibility to my day, I adjusted my routine to exactly how I would like it to be. I've also learned that I'm motivated enough on my own, without needing to be around other people who are in a rush to get somewhere.

I've also learned the importance of my sleep and how to set up my evenings in a way to get the most restoring sleep possible. I've learned to give myself plenty of time to start my day with movement and meditation. I've got into a habit of getting outside for a walk early every morning. I've understood the importance of how I sit when I work, releasing how much that changes how I feel in my body. I've reaffirmed to myself that consistency in movement and training is so much more valuable than intensity. I've learned the lesson to dim the lights in the evening and slow down to read a book before the day is over. I've also recognised that I genuinely missed close family and friends scattered across different countries, which I couldn't be around at that time.

What does it mean to live naturally? Does it mean moving out of the city, living off the grid, and gathering your food? I believe living naturally is honouring our humanness and allowing ourselves to function in that way. It's allowing ourselves to sleep enough during the night, getting outside regularly and moving in a way that keeps our bodies supple. At the same time, it's easy to be concerned that we can achieve worldly success and security only by dismissing some of our basic human needs.

When we take care of ourselves and allow ourselves to have a more natural way of living, again, by this, I mean simply living more by our internal rhythms and needs—not living in isolation somewhere in the wilderness. We can be more ourselves, a better version of ourselves where we can show up entirely to the things we do in this world, to the ways we contribute to one another with our presence and work.

August 13, 2021.

I've just finished reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. It's the second time I'm reading it. I think this was the example that some books are more valuable at particular times than other times. I've been fascinated by creativity over the last few months, noticing examples where someone has created something truly magical, regardless of the level of recognition. It could be an old song that comes up on the radio. It elicits emotion or brings up the memory. It has an intangible element to it. It could be a viral video that captures a stroke of genius in the person who recorded it. It could be an obscure graffiti on the wall that makes you pause what you're mulling over in your head. 

I think I can feel those moments that artists might feel when they are in a creative state. I feel it when I'm teaching, and I feel it when I'm coaching. Those are the times when I'm not thinking about what I should do next or what exactly is the plan I have laid out for myself. I'm just there, open to whatever is happening at the moment, not anticipating what the next moment will bring, or not trying to recap what was said just a moment ago. I call these moments of 'being out of the way'. 

In the past, when I would be holding the space for big groups of people and would start feeling nervous or unprepared, I would find a quiet place, and I would repeat to myself: "get out of the way". It would remind me that people that are there are not there for me. They're there for themselves. It doesn't matter how competent or smooth I can be with my delivery. What matters is that I'm responsive in the moment, and I'm there for others. More often than not, that would do the trick. I would stop making it about me and be present in the moment. With some luck, I would see the glimpse of genius pouring through me, where I simply stand back. 

At the same time, it's not as simple as rocking up and winging it. If that were the secret, we would see magnificent examples of creativity everywhere we look. I'm not an artist, but I believe it takes consistency and dedication to create a structure for what one is creating - creating a foundation of dedicated practice and daily commitment to the craft. Which then allows the moments of inspiration to bring life into these creations, no matter what they are. 

But dedicated practice is not easy. We feel resistance to it. We feel the drag of doing the thing that matters the most. I procrastinate or find other tasks of secondary importance to fill my time. Working from home is great for that. I can always make another coffee, cook, do some dishes or do laundry. I don't know where it comes from, but resistance is real. That's just something we have to deal with, whether we're working on an important project, having a difficult conversation with a loved one, make better health choices, or be true to our purpose in life. 

Resistance will always be there because to do what truly matters is scary. We can fail at something that genuinely matters. It's much easier to fail at a pursuit that you didn't put much effort in, or you tell yourself it's not that important anyway. Even though resistance is an obstacle towards fulfilment and meaning, it's also an indicator of what's important. I don't feel resistance to scrolling through the social media feed or watching a film. I do feel the resistance to things I know I should be doing. Now I know resistance is a clue directing me towards where the purpose and meaning can be found. 

July 30, 2021.

I've been saying so often that consistency is the key. I know it rationally, and I know it from my experience attempting to get good at something. My earliest experience of exerting consistent effort was probably at the age of 15, when I began training kickboxing. At that time, I didn't show any sign of natural talent regarding this sport. I was the antithesis of a prodigy. 

I enjoyed the sport to the point I was training as much and as often I possibly could. All my mates that started with me had found other more attractive pursuits at that young age. I kept on training without much of an expectation. To my surprise, few older training partners and my coach highlighted that I'm good at this and that I'm 'talented'. That surprised me. All other experiences I had in school and sports reinforced that I'm below average at most things, and at some things, I'm even worse. 

This was the lightbulb moment for me. I realised that if I enjoy something and do it with effort and commitment, magically, 'talent' appears, even if there was none originally. I believe this simple lesson influenced my attitude and gave me the conviction to pursue things, regardless of how little attributes or resources I have at the get-go. 

Recently, I've been getting back into training jiu-jitsu and attempting to establish a regular strength training routine. I've been feeling beat up and sore for weeks now. It made me realise that over the last couple of years, I have been quite inconsistent with it all. I've been telling myself that I'm just getting into it, just getting back on track. Just as I'm getting into my routine, I would find my circumstances change. Whether that's a move to another country or a shift in my daily schedule - it can be anything. 

Now I see that I got stuck in the mindset that I'm just getting into it. Anticipating that soon circumstances will change, and the progress I've made will be reset to zero. The same goes for writing these newsletters. I tend to postpone sitting down to write. I wait for a time I'll have more conducive circumstances, like when I'll be feeling more refreshed waking up in the morning, I'll be somewhere closer to nature, or I'll just feel excited to write. I've noticed myself relying on external circumstances, or even my internal emotional state, for motivation to do things that I genuinely want to do. 

I believe that circumstances and internal states are not relevant to me being consistent - it's my choice. It's not about the excitement to do the thing or how I feel about it. It's simply about doing it. And not doing it sporadic bursts of effort but doing it daily and not allowing the circumstances to get in the way. 

That's how habits are built, by showing up daily, with a reasonable amount of energy, over a long time. Not a rushed burst of effort at random intervals. Low intensity and high frequency versus high intensity and low frequency. 

As a quote from R. Feynman goes: "The first principle is that you must not fool yourself — and you are the easiest person to fool." Makes sense, right? Sometimes I forget. I hope with time, I'm going to be fooling myself less and less. 

July 5, 2021.

When I left, I took a one-way flight on a damp and cold January morning. I wasn't sure if I would ever feel good about returning, but I do. With all its craziness, this city has something to it. I love the east, where my community mostly is. If you've read my previous newsletter, you'll know that this time away made me appreciate the community even more. 

During the last few weeks leading up to my return, I felt ungrounded and didn't seem to get into a productive flow. My intention to return was to prioritise work and be more engaged with regular teaching and events. And now that I'm here, it's time to go to work. 

On the first full day back, I woke up early, had my slow start of the day, with 10 minutes of movement, 20 minutes of meditation, and as much time as necessary to savour a cup of coffee. Throughout the start of my day, I already felt some doubt creeping in: "am I going to be productive now that I'm here, now that it's time to create?" I felt the self-imposed pressure bring up a hint of anxiety and judgement. 

It took some will not to suppress or dismiss what I was experiencing and to see it clearly. In the past, I would have ignored these sensations and thrown myself into work. This time I listened to it and suspended the critical self-talk. I believe self-awareness allows me to see the tension and resistance I'm experiencing without accepting this discomfort as objective truth. I can see it for what it is. It's just a feeling that I have. It's not an accurate representation of reality or even me as a person. This time, I allowed it, stepped back from it, and saw it. 

I carried on with the packed day and arrived at the end of it with satisfaction. Satisfaction not just of the things I managed to complete but also how I managed to stay present to my experience. Present enough to see my ego playing out its patterns and choosing to act from a higher perspective. 

I was able to do it yesterday, and it doesn't mean that I'll do it tomorrow. I know these are my patterns, and they will keep showing up. It's not something I can 'reprogram' or fix, and it's not even something I want to try to fix. It's just me. Now that I know myself better, I can choose how I respond to my internal states and work with them instead of ignoring or suppressing them. 

The more I learn about myself, and the more I work with others on this, the more I see that true freedom is within - when we accept who we are and work with what we got instead of fighting it. 

June 9, 2021.

Perhaps a more accurate and trendy description to use is being a digital nomad.

I left my place in London in early January. It was the moment when my minimalism paid off, and I left behind only a couple of boxes of books. Nevertheless, I was looking forward to leaving the familiar surroundings and breaking out of my regular patterns.

The first stop was the island of Crete. At the time, together with my partner, we found a scenic Airbnb in a deserted beach town which overlooked an epic view of the Aegean Sea. Most of my days I spent reading, writing, philosophising and gazing out into the sea. I gravitated towards meditation, and over a couple of months, I deepened my practice like never before. Quiet space was conducive to inner exploration. The only reason to leave the peaceful surroundings was to drive to the city to train Jiu-Jitsu, which was my only contact with a community on this island.

The next stop was Mexico City. Vibrant and exciting place of contrasts. It was a shock to the system to be suddenly thrust into one of the biggest cities on the planet. As I attempted to restart my morning meditations, I realised that I couldn't sit still for longer than 10 minutes before I had to peak out of one eye to see the time. It didn't flow, so instead of trying to wrestle my mind into submission every morning, I went out for walks. It was a perfect way to experience the city when it's waking up.

My next stop is in Latvia, my home country, where I haven't been for more than 18 months. Last time I was here before the lockdowns began. It also was a time of significant loss in my family. Since then, I had plenty of opportunities to contemplate the meaning of having a home and being part of a community. As I'm writing this, I'm in my hometown - a place I escaped when I was 16. The main challenge I face here is keeping my assumptions and projections about this town at bay, not getting carried away by the same beliefs that made me leave all those years ago.

As I look back at the past six months of living a nomadic lifestyle, I see that living in a quiet place surrounded by nature supports my wellbeing, creativity and ability to think clearly. However, I have also noticed that an important piece was missing in this lifestyle - close friends and community. Relationships that last years and decades, not weeks or months.

I keep learning the same lesson again and again, that simple things are the ones that bring the most joy and contentment in life. Maybe the grass is green right where I am now?

May 10, 2021.

I'm not who you think I am. Living in London, I wanted to inspire and teach others how to reach their potential, but the journey trapped me into constantly feeling like I never did enough - I wasn't worthy, successful or free in my mind. I did martial arts, meditation, breathwork, cold exposure, yoga, strength training - none of it was enough. The more 'tools' I added, the more I imprisoned my mind to need to do these things. I was restricting myself through my routine.

And then I would go on Instagram and tell you all about the benefits of it. I thought I was experiencing all the benefits, but only now can I see that I practised it all from the wrong place.

This year, I left London to observe myself and what I'm doing. Am I doing what I want to do or, do I do things the way I have seen them done around me? Am I trying to do wellness 'right'? Leaving the city and spending months away allowed me to see who I am when no one else is around - though my biggest critic will always be myself. Now I can see who am I outside of comparison or external influences.

How did I do it? How did I finally find the freedom to be myself, to feel complete, to choose what and how I do things, and not cling to my routines of meditation or breathwork? You might find this surprising coming from me, but I've been using my intuition. I've been creatively living the life that I want, and that fulfils me. And it's incredible - I surrender more, I receive more, I follow the path of least resistance.

You've probably seen less of me on social media because I've been focusing on the depth, instead of width, of my work. I've been secretly coaching people in this instinctive process. The way that those people have transformed is unlike anything I've offered before. They are no longer questioning what they genuinely want or love in their lives. They know their most authentic needs without getting caught up in compensating for some unconscious belief that needs validation, that needs external reference or comparison.

This is the path of least resistance.

April 2, 2021.

Resistance has been a topic of conversation at the last community meetup. We discussed how it's present in so many things in our lives. Things we know are in our best interests to do.

I often use the word 'should' to describe what I intend to do but experience resistance. I think this question goes deeper than simply using the willpower and discipline to force into existence what I ought to do. I know that in the past, I have put lots of effort into achieving certain things that my rational mind decided I should be doing, only to find out later that I could have gotten there easier or even left the thing undone in the first place.

Perhaps I could use 'want' instead of 'should' to direct my efforts? I'm pretty sure I would end up wanting to do only Jiu-Jitsu, travel and hang out with friends (which I tried for a while in the past). Inevitably I would get bored and frustrated by the aimlessness of my chosen mode of being.

It then becomes about finding clarity about what's truly the thing I ought to do. Beyond shoulds or wants, something I have a knowing about, something that it will serve me and others around. I believe everyone has this knowledge beyond rationally working out the shoulds or self indulgently going after the wants. This knowing can come as sudden insights, or it can arrive by developing self-awareness or, most importantly, learning to pay attention to that gut instinct that's ever-present in us.

Developing awareness of and practice following the gut feeling has been a significant part of my self-exploration and part of my work with clients. I believe learning to pay attention to our instinct can clarify the conflict between shoulds and wants. Once this clarity is achieved, the resistance we experience as a negative impediment can become more of a creative tension which is simply part of doing what you love.

March 26, 2021.

What have I learned from meditating one hour per day for sixty days straight? 

Sixty days felt like a long time. It was not because sitting down every morning for sixty minutes was a struggle, but because the practice evolved and brought many insights, it feels like I've been doing it forever. 

If you have read my earlier newsletter, I described this practice as being radical. It was revolutionary because it doesn't demand an effort. I was only sitting down and staying seated for 60 minutes. 

When I first started, it was mind-boggling the idea of doing something by not doing anything. Why would I sit for one hour and do nothing? That's not meditation. Meditation is like mental gymnastics, and if I don't "break a sweat", so to speak, what's the point? In the past, I often would approach meditation as a means to an end, looking for some improvement, whether that's my mood, focus or cognitive performance. This "non-effort" didn't make sense - so I went with it. 

The first couple of weeks, I was amazed. When I would get caught up in thought, I didn't exert any effort to dismiss the thinking. I didn't try to quickly refocus on my breath or particular sensation that I intended to be the point of focus for my practice. It was okay to be captured by thoughts. Somehow after a few weeks of sitting down like this, these thoughts weren't as "sticky" anymore. I would naturally let go of the thinking with which I've been drifting along. This time instead of quickly dismissing what I've got caught up in to "refocus", I would be curious about the patterns themselves. It was fascinating to remember the odd and strange routes my mind followed. This process of meditation became captivating and exciting. 

Spontaneous curiosity and no pressure to maintain any focus during meditation helped me gain insights into my mind. Perhaps this was the first time I paid attention to what my subconscious is processing or bringing into my conscious awareness to integrate. 

One way to describe this is to compare it to email. It was like taking time to clear out my inbox, clear the junk mail and occasionally find a vital message that somehow got lost in all the spam. 

Beyond this clearing out, I recognise now that I have direct access to the deepest recesses of my mind. I get inspired ideas, insights, solutions to problems, answers to emotional challenges - all that by simply sitting quietly and allowing myself to be with what's going on inside.

March 5, 2021.

Pretty much the whole of the last year I spent learning about creativity. Creativity in a broad sense, not just in the arts. Creativity assumes that we're all creators, creating our lives every day with our thoughts and actions. Whenever we decide to go after something we love, something that doesn't exist in our lives or even in the world - we are creating.

It's a topic that I would never have thought myself to be interested in since it's beaten out of me by the education system in post-soviet Latvia. In the past, I've learned that the only way forward is to be rational in my approach to what I want to create in life. From my experience with martial arts, I learned that working hard is the only way to make progress. Assuming that's true, to create what I love, I have to control my actions and have figured out all of the moving pieces and bring a lot of hard work to create.

In retrospect, I can see that the most satisfying things that I had created grew quite organically. I didn't know what I was doing, and I didn't have any prior experience or an action plan mapped out. I only had a vision or a vague idea of where I want to be. All I did was take the obvious first step, and then the next step when it presented itself. It wasn't about having every single step mapped out in my mind. It was about being aware of ideas and opportunities, presenting themselves at the right moment and capturing them by taking action.

I believe when we are hyper-rational, we are limited in the insights available to us. When we are in this mode of awareness, we heavily rely on our previous experiences and assumptions of what is possible. This way of thinking limits our vision to what is reasonable and rational instead of taking inspired action.

I recognise it in myself. Every time I get a new idea of something that I want to do or create, I feel inspired, but my rational mind can kick in. Trying to work out all the details gets me stuck in controlling the process to the extent that I forget the original inspired idea. In my mind, I make it too complicated before even taking the first step towards my vision.

In getting over my hyper-rationality and being creative, I have to embrace the discomfort of not knowing how I will get to the end vision. Instead, it's about being present enough to capture inspired ideas and trust the process unfolding by itself.

February 12, 2021.

The daily routine is not a chore. I carved out time for myself where my morning practice is no longer a "nice-to-have" thing or one more task that I must do to keep my shit together. It's something that I genuinely enjoy. I've set up my mornings in such a way that I take my time in silence, even if it's just five minutes of stretching. Now I've learned it's not just self-indulgence or selfish pleasure. If I create time for self-care every day, I can show up better for others. I'm less reactive, and I can choose my responses in challenging situations. In situations where I would have reacted rashly and from an angry or irritated place, now I can choose to be more kind and considerate of the consequences of my words and reactions.

Often it's challenging to get the grips on how to respond and find a way to trust that the future holds solutions to challenges that I'm facing in a given moment. Trust that those solutions will arise when the time is right. At times it's a difficult task to have this internal conviction. This trust comes and goes, but over the recent years, I have found a mental place where, more consistently than ever before, I'm no longer at the mercy of uncontrollable shifts of my internal state. I don't believe that I control what is happening around me, but I know that I can own one key area: my attention. I also have control over my daily routines that help me cultivate my awareness.

The six-week Breathwork Academy course and the following community support are my attempt to create a structure to establish a healthier relationship with one's self-care, where it becomes an integral part of daily life, a way of thinking and relating to others. Sure, I'm setting up space at the start and sharing the most effective self-management tools that I have found, but the course is as much about learning from other community members than it is about learning from me.

In Breathwork Academy, the community underpins the learning experience and integrates the knowledge on a much deeper level. Mastery goes beyond rational understanding or collecting "hacks" to solve any unpleasant mental or emotional states. It's about having a deeper awareness of one's mind and body. With this more profound knowledge, it's possible to realign oneself with the most appropriate mental state in any given moment. That's what integrated knowledge of breathwork can provide.

February 7, 2021.

Today is day 17 of my radical meditation experiment. It has been radical not because of the length of practice (since I have done long sittings before) but it’s radical in the approach. I came across this way of meditating quite unexpectedly from listening to a podcast that a friend sent me. Instruction is quite simple. Sit down comfortably, close your eyes, sit there and don’t do anything. Not even try to control your mind. No focusing on breath, mantra, a particular thought or emotion. Not even exerting any effort in staying mindful by constantly releasing the trains of thinking in which you get caught up. Simple - radically simple. There is a bit of a catch though; you got to stay sitting like this for one hour.

By practising this way, I have gained more awareness and insight into the processes of my mind. Observing my thoughts flow from one to another. Paradoxically, by not exerting effort or attempting to achieve any particular state of awareness, I acquire it spontaneously. The same goal evades me if I bring all my discipline and focus to the equation.

One spontaneous realisation was how my mind was jumping from one chain of thought to another. Without segueing at all. As if a crazy person would be on a rant, unable to finish expressing one opinion before starting to talk about something else. It made me chuckle during the meditation.

I usually would not get to see it this way. I would be exerting effort at the particular moment of realisation when my mid have wondered, and I would immediately try to bring back the point of focus. This time I’m getting a first-hand insight into the workings of my mind, only by releasing the need to exert any effort in controlling my mind. Now meditation feels like a light-hearted observation, noticing my mind doing its silly thing.

I’m not implying that sitting every morning for one hour will fix or help with anything. Perhaps without years of exploration of my mind, consistent meditation and breathwork practice, I would have gained nothing from this “non-effort” approach to mediation. I’ve committed to myself to do this for at least 60 days straight, after which I can reevaluate and decide if I want to continue this practice.

If it raised your curiosity, check out this blog post and discussion I found online.

January 29, 2021.

This view made me realise how vital stress was in my life. I just finished my morning meditation and was observing from the terrace how trees are violently bending under the wind's pressure from the sea. For some reason storms like this make me uneasy, maybe I'm just not used to them. Where I come from winds like this are rare. I started to reason that trees up here are less likely to break since they get pressure tested in this way regularly.

 

It made me consider my attitude toward stress in my own life. In my mind, it formed an interesting parallel with these trees - if I experience and learn to deal with some amount of stress consistently, I'm more likely to hold up to a more significant challenge when it arises. Equally, if all that I feel, day in and day out, is stress - I'm not going to grow. If I try to avoid stress and consider it wrong, when life inevitably will throw it at me, I'll be less resilient and equipped to deal with it.

 

The more useful definition of stress is to separate it in good kind of stress, the type you look back at and see how it made you more resilient, and the bad kind, which prevents you from falling asleep at night. There are two distinct types of stress. One is eustress, which is positive stress like exercise, fasting, cold exposure, or a focused work on a problem that matters. Second is distress, which is lack of sleep, poor gut health, trauma, or constant rumination that doesn't lead to anything.

 

Another point of consideration is the amount of stress. If the storm is blowing 24/7, those trees will not grow and will break eventually. So with us humans, it's essential to regulate the exposure to stress and know when to dial down the incoming pressure. For example, the last thing you need is to take on an intensive exercise routine or dieting protocol when going through a challenging period at work or in relationships.

 

I believe cultivating self-awareness through mindful practices is the real key to knowing when is the right time to turn down or turn up the stress in our lives.

January 24, 2021.

As I was sitting on the terrace and looking at the sea, I saw birds far in the distance flying in formations. Floating around seemingly in random patterns, rising higher and higher until the point they reached the low hanging clouds and disappeared into them, occasionally reappearing and then disappearing again.

 

I started to wonder what is the reason for this behaviour, why would a group of birds fly so high, tracing random patterns around each other? My rational mind started analysing: there is no fish to catch at altitude, there are no insects of nutritional value flying around so far from the land. I doubt it's a mating season either since it's January on this island. Are they merely playing with each other or the wind and the clouds?

 

The best answer that came to my mind is that they are birds and do bird things, for no particular reason. Not because they have to or they should. A more important question is why me, the human, is asking this question? Why does a bird's behaviour have to have a rational explanation - an explanation that makes sense? Is it by nature that I have this desire to understand, or is it by nurture that I have learned the necessity to have everything worked out in my head?

 

What if I would let go of my need to rationalise and simply do the thing I feel like doing? Would that be the end of the anxiety and pressure to do the right thing and for the right reasons? Perhaps I'm not meant to understand everything that I do - I just got to do my human thing.

January 17, 2021.

Perhaps you might have seen on my Instagram stories that I have left London. My girlfriend and I decided to find a place where we can spend this winter with lower rents and better views. So we ended up in Crete, Greece. My intention for the first couple of days was to slow down and take time for myself, to regroup, and allow space for potential new ideas to land into my brain. Ideas of how I want to continue my work, but instead, what I’m discovering are different and unexpected insights.

 

What was interesting to me was observing and talking to local people. The way that their attitude towards time seems to be different than in the place that I just came from - London. One of these examples was chatting to a guy in a coffee shop/roasters. I’ve spoken to him the earlier day when I came in to get a cup of coffee and buy some beans for when I’m going to be out of the city. Now I was there and ready to order when we started a conversation about one thing or another. This chat lasted longer than I would have expected in any cafe in London. That’s when I noticed myself impatiently standing with a bank card in my hand, eager to get on with it and get my coffee. While he wasn’t yet finished with the conversation we were having. What surprised me was his engagement. He was talking to me right there and then, what seemed without any thought that he has to get on with his work, serve me the coffee, get me out through the door and get onto the next customer.

 

I’ve noticed this presence and commitment to interactions in the moment with several people on this island. Which is a strong contrast to my impatience and sense that I have to get on with things, tasks and projects, even to the detriment of connection with another human being. I’m hoping that by living on this island this quality of presence will rub off on me, and perhaps I can become a bit more generous with my time with people that are right in front of me.