Archive for the ‘Life direction’ Category

I cried this morning. Not because I was depressed. Far from it.

The reason is something that I knew was coming. I was prepared. But until you experience something, preparation is just a word on a page.
The tears were for the death of my parents. Eight months apart last year. Mum first, Dad second. Was it the memory of Mum in hospital with tubes and lines feeding out of her body? Was it the knowledge that her organs were shutting down? Was it the sanitised language used by the doctors to prepare us?
Or was it my Father’s gradual descent into loneliness sparked off by her last breath? His dementia and tightening grip on my arm in the late hours of his last few nights.

No.

The tears were the distance between myself and my parents now. A connection of love between us which feels like a long optic cable upon which travels our emotions.
So I sat in my shed this morning, in one of their old lounge room chairs and looked at my Dad’s watch on my left hand. A watch that still works and guides me in my life. It keeps me on time and, in someways, connected.

Some tears are good.

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Micro Habits

Posted: February 5, 2019 in Habits, Life direction
Tags: , , ,

Micro Habits steer my life in the over-all direction that I want.

Think about that.

The tiny things you do every day – even every hour – make the biggest difference in the overall outcome.

That’s worth writing down.

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When I was four I had a handstand competition with the kids in the street. I won! The prize was a kiss on the cheek from someone’s sister.

From that moment, I attached self-esteem to winning, and winning to being favoured by the opposite sex.

So, chasing winning, and being attractive to make me feel better about myself, can be short-circuited by just feeling better about myself in the first place. That means I can give myself this gift without having to constantly win.
Besides, winning forever is impossible. It’s also tiring. Winning adoration from others constantly is also impossible, and tiring.

sean turn

I’m gradually pulling out of the trauma of losing both parents this year.
My reaction since Dad died, eight months after Mum, has been a morbid, What’s the point? As if there was a point to life but it was eluding me.
A calmness has ensued now with me realising that the fact is… there is no point. In the space of time between birth and death we make ourselves busy with finding a direction and purpose.
It’s a bit like reading a book on holiday. You find a good book and immerse yourself in it as you know one day you will be returning home. Some of my best holidays have been like that. A simple existence on a beach in a hammock for two weeks. Immersing myself in a good story.
Quite a calm way to go, don’t you think?

Dad

A0ABF98D-33A9-4D3E-8813-B9131653DC66Life. Sometimes it really forces you to stop and observe what is going on in that moment. One of those moments happened tonight so I wrote a description:

“I am sitting here next to my Dad. Outside at night. My Mum died 6 months ago and Dad is heartbroken. He has cancer and is now looking forward to joining Mum soon. In the meantime, he sleeps in the chair next to me.”

This is not meant to be sad. It is part of life. It happens in every city in every country in every part of the world. Families say goodbye to grandparents and it is one of the ingredients that makes life worth living. That ingredient is that it doesn’t last forever.

As my mum used to say when things got tough, “This too shall pass“.

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What I think happens in life and thereafter.

There is no supporting evidence for this. None. But I think this photo depicts what happens to us in our life and afterwards.

Firstly, the sign.
The concept that life ends when we die is a man-made concept. Take that away and the picture takes on a different meaning
In the foreground, the road and painted line shows the direction that has been mapped out for us. We may have painted the line or we might be following a line painted by others. It’s still a direction we follow. Life is reliable if we walk this way. No surprises.

The end of the painted line.
Notice that the line stops but the road continues. At some point in our lives we don’t need to follow a direction. We just know which side of the road is the safest and the direction we should be travelling in. It’s still a direction followed by most but we don’t need as many rules to guide us. We brush our teeth, save some money and have the weekend off without thinking about it. Admittedly, doing these things does save you some heartache later but really it’s your choice. There are consequences for everything. Even if you stop in the middle of the road there is a consequence.

The gravel.
The end of the road and start of the dirt shows our partial return to the way things should be as we age. We can start to connect with the natural way of life and appreciate the little things. Like being outside. Feeling the wind. Listening to our own thoughts. All these experiences becomes more comfortable as we realise that all things pass. We end up walking our own path regardless of others. The realisation that happiness and contentment is up to us makes it much easier to live.
The decisions we have made, passage we have taken, and where it has lead us finally shows what really matters. Material gain and credit for our performance loses its lustre. The knowledge that others are struggling now seems to drive us to a point where we are rewarded with a deep contentment that only service to another living being can give.

The sign.
It may be the latest theory to explain death but it really just shows a transition. In science, nothing disappears, it changes state. Ice melts and become water; water boils and becomes steam; the steam seems to disappear but really spreads out to become, well, everything.

Afterwards.
Just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there. There is a continuation of us but as the picture shows, things change.
It seems to me there is a natural beauty thereafter. No roads, no directions, no hazards. Still in existence but a more natural one that allows us freedom that we haven’t experienced beforehand. Whether we continue into the trees or the sky is up to you. All we do is move forward into a new experience.

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The tidal bore wave roaring down the Amazon river was stuck in my head. Local tribes named the Pororoca – meaning ‘Great Thunder’ – because of the sound the wave makes. It can be heard 15 minutes before it comes into sight. Trees and other debris are swept along the river making it a threatening site. Alligators that frequent the water disappear as it approaches. Piranha scatter.
In the absence of a scientific explanation, local tribes fear the wave and have made up stories to explain its occurrence and fury. For surfers however, it is a mesmerising site. As the river narrows the surge of water condenses and picks up in height. As the bottom of the river becomes shallow it forms into a breaking wave that follows the contours of the river for miles and miles. For me, as each day past I preferred to use this as an escape from my life trauma. I researched the wave and tried to track down anyone that could give me information that could put me there. As with all endeavours, the louder and more persistent your knocking is, the more doors that open for you. Slowly, evidence started to surface that this was possible. Contacts materialised. An expedition organiser was found. Money was discussed and dates made. Due to the accuracy of measuring tidal movements and full moons, the exact date and time of the next wave was chosen. September 7th.

Four months to go.

IMG_3405Pororoca Part 1
The world’s longest wave first made an impact on me in the form of a large screen in an Australian pub. Looking for a break from my struggle with depression and life problems I was standing in a bar surrounded by people 20 years younger than me. On a large screen was an aerial view of a surfer riding on a wave.
No eyebrows raised there.
Then the shot panned back and on either side of the wave were rolling green fields. The wave, with the surfer on it, kept going… and going… and going.
I stood, transfixed at the natural phenomena that I was seeing. You see as a surfer this is a dream come true. A wave that doesn’t stop. The discussion with the person next to me informed me that it was somewhere in South America. He had seen a documentary on the National Geographic Channel. His interest turned to matters of the other sex but I was transfixed. Somewhere deep inside of me I made a decision that would change the direction of my life for ever. One that would take me to the other side of the world and into one of the most remote places on the earth. An area where time stands still.
The longest wave in the world takes some time to get your head around. It rolls down the Amazon River only twice a year: once in March, and once in September. It is the result of the tidal flow of the largest river in the world when it meets the incoming tide of the ocean. Combined with a full moon, the moving bodies of water clash and form a tidal bore wave. Scientists call it a “hydraulic jump”. At this point, I had no idea it would help to put my problems into perspective.

Pororoca Part 2 Tomorrow.

I’m definitely no better than you.
Only difference is, right now, I’m writing this and you’re reading it.
I could talk to you about life events. Things that I don’t have a monopoly on.

(more…)

Not being mean or anything. Just saying that this is a law. It’s not meant to be nice. Just true. (more…)