EMBRACING MORTALITY AS AN INEVITABLE REALITY

Death
occupies an important but disconcencerting place in our lives. It is life’s
natural constant, and yet we’re terrified by it. We fear death because we
feel it threatens something—like goals that we are yet to realize, or one of
which we’re just on the brink of realizing, like settling down to enjoy the
fruit of our labors after working hard through all the days of our life . Rather than fearing the inevitability that is
death, perhaps we should live in such a way that, when death approaches, we can
face it contentedly.

 

It could be said that
many people who fear death are living in a manner that justifies that fear. Our
tendency to be jolted into action only when we sense a window of opportunity
closing indicates our general comfort with coasting through life without setting
specific values and principles that make us feel that we are living the life
that we have set for ourselves. We coast until we can’t anymore, until
something holds us accountable or until our livelihoods depend on taking an
action on something we’ve been putting off.

 

Our aim, however, is
to not require extreme circumstances to show up for our lives to jolt us to
live the life that we have always wanted for ourselves.

 

The vastness and diversity of
the universe that many are hesitant to acknowledge is that in the grandest
scheme of things, nearly everything we will ever do in our lives becomes
insignificant.

 

Some people over-think
on this and choose to do nothing at all, but far too few people convert the
seeming harshness of grand-scheme-insignificance into a tool, a freedom to live
out their fullest selves knowing that one day all returns to dust.

 

In
other words, to live and operate confidently not to be remembered (a futile
effort, per the Stoics), but because we know we’ll be forgotten.

 

It’s the difference
between, “You’re going to die, why try?”
and “You’re going to die, why not try?”

 

The latter view offers a chance at leading an
invigorated life—a life with an end you can face contentedly. Grand scheme
insignificance frees us to be everything, anything, and nothing.

 

“Close is the time when you will forget all things;
and close, too, the time when all will forget you.” -Marcus Aurelius

 

One
of the themes most prominent in Stoic texts, from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations to Seneca’s Letters from a Stoic, is that of the
universe’s unending change.

 

 They implore us to think of all who
came before us, and all who will come after, reminding us of the minuscule span
of time we occupy in this world. This is not to diminish our meaning, but to
contextualize it, freeing us from any unproductive attachment with the
temporary physical existence that is our life. 

 

This can be distilled
down to its most useful parts:

 

1). freedom from the overvaluing of  the temporary, and

 

2). a regular awareness of priorities and the actions
that bring joy in our everyday life.

 

 

People who have gone through
near-death experiences tend to emerge from them with a new lease on life. They
came face to face with what they risked losing, and now feel a renewed
compulsion to honor or embrace that which they consider important in their life.
Though it need not take a physical brush with death to incite such a
perspective.

 

Its natural,
inevitable reality should be sufficient for the clarification of exactly what
our priorities and desires are, and the subsequent scrutiny of whether our
actions align. A person living in accordance with their values, their
principles, and their priorities is unlikely to expend energy rebelling against
a thing that’s on its way to all of us.

 

Think of how old you
are while reading this, and how quickly it seems you arrived there. Life’s
journey is slow in the moment and fast in retrospect, the end destination the
same for all. The only thing in your direct control is the intent you bring to
the space in between.

 

“Why should
I be concerned about anything else than how one day I shall ‘turn again to
earth’? And why, indeed, should that trouble me? For death will be my fate
whatever I do.” -Marcus Aurelius

 

Death evades no one,
and so we should live our lives thoughtfully, intentionally, and responsibly
while we have them. And we encourage the same in others, particularly those who
love us.

 

If there were a noble reason to
avoid death (read: one unentangled with the self and the discontinuance of
temporal pleasures), chief among them is not wanting to leave others who love
you, emotionally or otherwise, in a lesser state—parents of growing children,
for example, whose lives would be undeniably compromised without them.

 

I’m of the
belief that there is a pure way to recognize this, wholly separate from a
notion of inflated self-importance.

 

 As in all things, however, preparedness is
key. You prepare those who rely on you to be resilient in your absence, you put
things in place to secure their safety and wellbeing. There is, of course, no
replacement for a caregiver, no amount of security that can fill the emotional
void left by a lost parent or loved one, but an acceptance of death as part of
life’s natural cycle—and breeding this in others—may
help to subdue unhealthy responses to tragedy. You can aim to live a life
of such impact (in your sphere or beyond) that its loss would be felt, but
within that, strive for one so marked by a dutiful acceptance of its inevitable
end that others are moved to hold a similar perspective, honoring their space
of time accordingly. 

 

 

As everything has a
season, so does the individual. Your season, in the macro, is your life, and as
the seasons pass, so too will you. In a paraphrasing of the Roman emperor and
Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius, don’t ask yourself how long you’ll live, but
rather, how you’ll live.

 

“As you engage in each
particular action, stop and ask yourself this question: Is death something
terrible because I would be deprived of this?” -Marcus Aurelius

 

We are now tasked with
auditing our lives. The necessity of the mundane and life’s natural ebbs and
flows aside, does your life, by and large, reflect that which is in line with
your deepest held intent? Marcus Aurelius offers us a litmus test, imploring us
to ask ourselves if death would be something
terrible because we’d be deprived of this—this activity, this argument,
this community. Our answer should direct us to either savor it—to be present and grateful, recognizing it will
pass—or discard it, weighting it accordingly and allotting it no more time than
its worth.

 

 

“It’s only when you’re afraid
of living your life fully every day that you fear death. It’s only dead people
who never lived fully who should fear death. But people who are alive and
living their life fully have no fear of death.” -Anthony de Mello

 

 

 My take on this taboo topic is that ;

 

A
contented approach to death requires that we steward our lives in a way that
rhymes  with our deepest held values . In
so doing, death may not be something terrible, but rather, a natural end to a
life well-lived in line with things and people who make us glad to be  alive.

Here are 10 things that you shouldn’t feel compelled to explain to others

We all have moments, decisions, or preferences that we keep to ourselves, buried under layers of social niceties and expectations.

You might find yourself constantly justifying your choices or feelings, unsure if it’s normal to guard certain aspects of your life so fiercely.

However, psychology tells us that there are certain things we simply don’t owe anyone an explanation for. It’s important to remember that you have the right to keep some things to yourself.

Here are 10 things that you shouldn’t feel compelled to explain to others.

1) Your past

In a world obsessed with background checks and social media stalking, it’s easy to feel like you owe people an explanation for your past. But here’s the truth: You don’t.

Everyone has a history, a storyline that has shaped us into who we are today. This past may be filled with triumphs, failures, joy, and pain. But it’s your story.

Your past is yours alone.You don’t owe anyone an explanation for the chapters in your past. You’re not obligated to share your life history or justify the decisions you made then.

After all, those decisions and experiences have contributed to your growth and have made you who you are today.

However, if you choose to divulge your past, do it because it feels right for you, not because you feel pressured or compelled to. Remember, it’s your past and you’re in control of it.

2) Your career path

In a world that often puts a premium on conventional success, marching to the beat of your own drum can be daunting.

You might have faced puzzled looks or outright criticism when you shared your unconventional career aspirations. The pressure to conform to traditional career paths can be intense, leading you to constantly defend your choices.

But remember this – you don’t owe anyone an explanation for your career decisions. Your job doesn’t have to fit into a neat little box for it to be valid or fulfilling. As long as your work aligns with your passion and values, it’s worth pursuing.

If you’re blazing your own trail in the professional world, know that it’s okay to defy expectations. Your career path is yours to navigate, and your success is yours to define.

3) Your dietary preferences

I remember when I switched to a low calorie diet. The questions and judgements came flooding in. “Where will you get your energy for the daily chores?” “Isn’t it too restrictive?” “Are you sure it’s healthy?”

Here’s the deal: Your dietary preferences and choices are yours to make. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for why you choose to eat (or not eat) certain foods.

Whether you’re a vegan, vegetarian, gluten-free, or meat-lover, your dietary preference’s your choice. You don’t have to justify your eating habits to anyone as long as they serve you and align with your health goals.

So if you’ve chosen to exclude certain food groups from your diet for ethical, health, or personal reasons, you don’t owe anyone an explanation.

Eating is a personal experience and should be enjoyable, not stressful or guilt-inducing. Remember, it’s your plate and you have the right to decide what goes on it.

4) Your relationship status

Whether you’re single, in a relationship, married, or navigating the complex world of dating, your relationship status is your business.

Society often puts unnecessary pressure on individuals to fit into certain relationship molds. But remember, there’s no ‘one-size-fits-all’ when it comes to relationships. Every person’s journey is unique.

If you’re single and loving it, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. If you’re in a relationship and happy, you don’t need to justify why you chose your partner. If you’re married and content, there’s no need to explain why you chose to tie the knot.

Your relationship status doesn’t define your worth or happiness. So feel free to live your love life (or enjoy your single life) in a way that feels right for you.

5) Your grief

Grief is one of the most personal experiences one can go through. It’s unique to every individual and comes in many forms: the loss of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a missed opportunity.

In times of grief, you might find people trying to dissect your pain, asking why it’s taking you ‘so long’ to move on or why you’re still ‘stuck’ in your sorrow.

But here’s the thing: your grief is your own. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for how you grieve or how long it takes you to heal.

Healing is not a linear process, and everyone copes differently. You have every right to feel your feelings without justification or guilt.

So take all the time you need. Feel your feelings, lean into your grief, and heal at your own pace. Your emotions are valid, and no one else has the right to dictate how you should navigate through them.

6) Your personal boundaries

Setting personal boundaries is one of the most significant acts of self-respect and self-care you can perform. It’s about understanding your limits and knowing what you’re comfortable with.

Your boundaries could be about saying no to working extra hours, or choosing not to discuss certain topics with people, or deciding to spend some quiet time alone every day. Whatever they may be, they’re there to protect your emotional and mental well-being.

You don’t owe anyone an explanation for these boundaries. You have every right to protect your space and energy.

Remember, it’s not selfish to prioritize your needs and feelings. It’s necessary for your well-being, and psychology strongly backs this up. So, set your boundaries, and remember – you don’t owe an explanation for them to anyone.

7) Parenthood

In a society that often equates fulfillment with parenthood, deciding not to have children can be a path less traveled.

You might have encountered surprised reactions or even judgment when you express your choice. The idea of a fulfilling life without children can be hard for some to grasp, leading you to frequently justify your decision.

Choosing not to embark on this journey does not make you any less compassionate, fulfilled, or valuable.

If you’ve chosen a child-free life, know that it’s your right to shape your own narrative of happiness and success. Your life is yours to live, and your fulfillment is yours to define.

8) Your financial decisions

Money matters are often a personal affair. How you choose to spend, save, or invest your money is entirely up to you.

Whether you prefer to splurge on experiences rather than material goods, or if retirement saving is your top priority, these are your decisions to make.

The value you assign to different aspects of your life is a personal preference and not something you have to justify to others.

Financial decisions often reflect our values and priorities. So remember, your money, your rules. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for your financial decisions.

9) Your dreams

In a culture that often encourages us to broadcast our ambitions and aspirations, choosing to keep your dreams to yourself can seem contrary.

You might have been met with surprise or even disapproval when you decided not to share your future plans.

The expectation to constantly discuss and dissect our desires can be overwhelming, leading you to repeatedly explain your preference for privacy.

Yet, remember this – you don’t owe anyone an explanation for keeping your dreams to yourself. Sometimes, guarding your aspirations can give them the space and serenity they need to grow. Not all goals need an audience to be achieved.

If you’ve chosen to keep your dreams close to your heart, know that it’s okay. Your aspirations are personal, and how you choose to pursue them is entirely up to you.

10) Your life path

Your journey is unique. It’s filled with your choices, your experiences, and your dreams. And it’s something you should never have to explain or justify to anyone.

Whether you’re taking the road less traveled, following a traditional path, or forging your own way, it’s your path. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for why you choose to walk it.

Remember, it’s not about where you’re going but how you get there. So embrace your journey, live your life on your terms, and never feel obligated to explain your path to anyone.

Final thoughts: It’s about you

The beauty of being human lies in our diversity, our individuality, and our autonomy.

Each of us has the freedom to make our own choices, live our lives in our unique way, and to do so without feeling obligated to justify these choices to others.

Your choices, your past, your preferences – all these facets of your life are uniquely yours. They form the roadmap of your journey, a journey you don’t owe anyone an explanation for.

Your growth, your changes, and your decisions are yours to make and understand. However you choose to navigate your path, remember that it’s your journey and no one else’s.

In the grand scheme of things, the most important person you need to answer to is yourself. Honor that responsibility and remember – you owe no one an explanation for being true to yourself.

A self-love letter to myself

The courage of white flag: total surrender

I thought the cat disapeared after being quarantined

Sunday morning: the cat wakes me up in its usual way, by leaping on to my chest and placing a paw over my mouth to stop me crying out. I open my eyes, and the cat leans in.

“Miaow,” it says, meaning: let’s go.

“It’s Sunday,” I say.

“Miaow,” says the cat, meaning: you, me, downstairs, now.

“It’s 7.30,” I say. “Too early.”

But it’s not too early. We’ve got five people coming for lunch, our three sons included, and I need to check that the great lump of beef that I took out of the freezer has defrosted.

The cat follows me downstairs. I prod the frozen meat, and feed the cat. I clean up a small lake of piss left on the floor by the tortoise. I make coffee and sit down to stare into the middle distance.

“Miaow,” says the cat, winding its way round my ankles.

“I literally, I mean literally, just fed you,” I say.

Two hours later I’m removing the beef from its wet paper wrapping when my wife comes in. She is talking to the youngest one on the phone.

“By vegetarian option,” she says, “do you mean vegetables?”

“You can’t say it like that,” I say.

“Of course we have vegetables,” she says. “And roast beef.”

“We can get more vegetables,” I say.

“Are you sure that’s beef?” my wife says, leaning over my shoulder.

“It’s a bit paler than I remember,” I say.

“That looks like pork,” she says.

“We might need a vegetarian option,” I say.

I look up instructions for cooking beef, and then for cooking pork, and split the difference. Then I go out and buy more vegetables, and extra wine.

Everyone arrives. The kitchen grows loud and the cat, who hates a crowd, disappears. When the middle one goes searching for him an hour later, he eventually finds the cat in the garden, limping and in some distress.

We open the side door so the cat can come inside without having to encounter the lunch party. The cat limps to the sofa, crawls under it, and refuses to come out.

We leave the cat alone until everyone has gone, by which time he has taken himself upstairs to lie in the middle of the spare bed, stiff and unmoving.

“This cat is in a bad way,” my wife says.

“What do you mean?” I say, my voice accidentally cracking.

If I end up being the last person to see that cat alive, my version of events will come to be seen as unreliable

“Do you think he’s been hit by a car?” she says.

“There isn’t a mark on him,” I say. “He probably fell off something.”

I check on the cat at 10, and 12, and again at two. He’s asleep every time.

My alarm goes off at six, because I have work I was meant to finish on the weekend and didn’t. At nine I am typing away in my office shed when my wife comes in.

“I had a bad feeling about the cat,” she says.

“Really?” I say.

“And now he’s disappeared again,” she says. “I’ve searched the whole house, and I’m afraid he’s gone off somewhere to die.”

I think about this for a moment.

“I saw him this morning,” I say.

“When?” she says.

“At six, when I got up,” I say. “He came downstairs with me, and I fed him.”

“How was he?” my wife says.

“Um, sort of grumpy,” I say. “I left him lying on the floor.”

“Just lying there?” she says.

“Well, yeah,” I say. I stand up and search the house myself: behind curtains, under beds, in cupboards. I return to my shed and stare out at the garden, scanning the tops of the walls for movement. It starts to rain. I search the house again. Nothing. I check a neighbourhood website for fresh reports of dead cats. Nothing.

After an hour I begin to feel bereft and stupid. If I end up being the last person to see that cat alive, my version of events will come to be seen as unreliable. I’m already beginning to wonder if I dreamed the whole encounter. I find myself close to tears.

With nothing else to do, I go back to work. By the time I finish, it’s already dark outside. I return to the house to talk to my wife, finding her in her office upstairs.

“I’ve texted the neighbours to keep an eye out,” she says. “But to be honest I don’t hold out much hope.”

“He’s in the kitchen,” I say. “I passed him on my way up here.”

“What?” she says.

In the kitchen my wife stands, hand on hips, staring down at the cat as it rolls playfully on the floor.

“So you’re fine, is that it?” she says.

“Stupid cat,” I say.

I AM ALIVE!

I am still alive in 2024!
What a delightful surprise for me after all these years....
During the course of my life,
quite a number of things have tried to kill me;
childhood diseases,
dangerous play and games,
foolish dares,
ignorance,
curiosity,
pride,
cowardice,
my own foolishness,
my own poor judgment,
heartbreaks,
hubris,
hate,
rejection,
prison time,
starvation,
slander,
anxiety,
disappointment,
racial bias,
ageism,
global pandemic,
global financial meltdown,
drought,
famine,
floods,
climate change,
disinheritance,
breakups,
infidelity,
burnouts,
disillusionment,
business rivalry,
jealousy,
envy,
frame ups,
joblessness,
abandonment,
abundance,
adventures,
social isolation,
driving,
separation,
hopelessness,
depression,
exploitation,
betrayal,
addictions,
homelessness,
bankruptcy,
alienation,
poverty,
purposelessness,
spiritual deprivation,
and finally frailty in old age.

Oh! And people who have wished me dead have sometimes been very impatient with their wishes and pronounced me dead on their social media pages to the dismay of my friends who are forced to call me and confirm that I am not dead yet. I sympathize with these friends who have to contend with listening to a voice from the world of the 'dead' on their earpieces.

None has succeeded so far.
In this life,there are moments when we walk through the wrong door,
but  I have always come through the other end alive and kicking...

I now believe that only death in its purest form can kill me.
And until that finally happens,
I have nothing to fear,
but death itself.

In the meantime, I plan to squeeze the sweet juice out of this life from every moment that I am ALIVE!

When you walk away from your troubles

When you walk away from your troubles,

there are no good byes to be said.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there are no tears to be shed

because all you have lost is trouble.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there is no sadness felt for all that you have left behind.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there can be no regrets

for the good decision you have made for yourself.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there are no memories to cherish,

only the gratitude for the lessons learnt.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there are no anniversaries to be observed.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there is nothing there left behind to go back for.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there is nothing and no one to miss from that part of your past.

When you walk away from your troubles,

there is no nostalgia for the precious time lost in vain:

everything is forgotten.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you don’t want to ever meet anyone

who reminds you of that part of your lost past.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you are not a coward,

but a realist who realizes that trouble

is something that you should not

feel ashamed to run away from,

and a problem is something you try to solve.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you are free to start a fresh life on a clean slate.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you have owned up to your limitations,

about situations beyond your control.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you have realized that your own healing

is better than eternal sacrifice.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you have chosen to see your worth,

where others see no value in your presence.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you have seen the light.

When you walk away from your troubles,

you have dealt with the shame of feeling worthless

in the eyes of your tormentors.

Walk away from your troubles.

They are not problems to be solved,

but a real and present danger

that you should run away from.

By Bernard Wainaina,

Profarms®™.

Valentines Day 2023

An entire day dedicated to declaring your love for someone? Really?

What if there are three special someones? A third of a day for each of them?

What happens to all the other days of the year?

Hope you can see my cynical contradictions.

And the backhanded compliments won’t help either.

First things first: whoever is in charge of the sun, could you please turn it down a notch?
Bwana, it is hot in Nairobi. So hot that calling your girl my sunshine now would probably be an overkill.


Weak jokes aside, and speaking of all things hot, by the time you are reading this, I’ll be a little bit buzzed by the hot sun, somewhat high, on cloud nine, gliding up in the sky, thus what you will be reading is the plain truth. Hot sun is not a hot drink. See? I can still talk about sober things under this hot sun.

Lately, you may have noticed that your emotions are a bit more intense. You don’t need to be a scientist but if you stay anywhere in Kenya that is not Juja Dam, you will notice that the full moon is out. And with that, it aggravates a lot of feelings. Spare a thought for your single friends this Valentine Day, in this scorching hot January, and be magnanimous with your words. Not everyone will receive a fowers. Not everyone will have someone to send flowers to.

I have noticed that we have a tendency to offer backhanded compliments, a sandwich of praises betwixting the beef of snideness underneath. And then cover it all up with the classic: “I will not dim myself so you can shine.” No, you’re not being mindful, you’re rude.

I say this because this week is Valentine’s week and despite this paganistic ritual gorging its fangs deep into hapless’ men’s hearts (and pockets), out of every spouse who will be receiving red roses, another will get flowers too, a wreath,to mark the death of their relationship. Love has since become a competition. “But affections are not things and persons never can become possessions, matters of ownership. The desolate know this immediately and only the trivial pretend that it can be otherwise”—so wrote Elizabeth Hardwick in Seduction and Betrayal—she who stoically endured the countless infidelities of her husband Robert Lowell.

The amorous estuary of Valentine’s Day is befouled by the flotsam of capitalism but it needn’t remain this polluted forever. It’s almost as if, in our buy-one-get-one-free society we assume that if we can spend large on dating, we’ll be able to buy ourselves happy relationships.

I know I am polishing the brass on the sinking titanic because my social timeline is all about that red day, and goddammenus, and side chic tears. WhatsApp statuses in my phone are serving passive aggression: “Your girlfriend has a sugardaddy man who has more money than you and you will find out on Tuesday next week.” Like Catholic guilt, you pretend to hate this truth, but I think part of you loves it for its sincerity.

As a hobby writer, I have come to juxtapose the blithe sexual folly of my youth with the contrasting Sturm and Drang in my heart. And how. Let me explain: I am in the final year of my 50s and if these years have taught me something,it is that love is a dreadful barometer for relationships. I mean you don’t stop loving someone just because you hate them. True story: one of my closest friends was recently dumped—again (yes by the same girl. Yes, I wrote about it in my diary as a lesson for my foolish heart. The same girl? So you loved her and she hated you? The you loved her again and she hated you again? Hell, yes I was laughing)—so bad he told me to stop talking to him for a while,but we will remain friends all the same. Something to do with this men-thing about not holding grudges. But Oh how I laughed! Not at him,but at the paradox of it all. I’m only lucky because as I grow older, I have learned to hold two contadictions at the same time and still make sense of it all.

I tell him it was about time. They were a mismatch. And then I urge him to watch ‘The Godfather’, probably the best sepia film ever created. The men who watch The Godfather, with a taste for its cold black water, do so to stay in good mental shape. It’s an ode to the days when men could solve their problems with a kind word and a gun—because as every man knows, you can get a lot more done with a kind word and a gun than just a kind word.

The crux of the matter is that a lot of men will go deeper into their pockets this week trying to impress their beaus. For the very few who won’t, or can’t, please don’t sneer at them. 
As [Rudyard] Kipling said, “The female of the species is deadlier than the male.” The key to all good human behaviour is mutual respect and trust. With that, almost anything will work. Without it, nothing will. 

Comparisons are odious and nearly always absurdly reductive but here we go anyway: women can destroy as much as they can build you. But none is going to build with you. No one is coming to your rescue. Things are just not what they used to be. Relationships are not just what they used to be.

You see, I’ve been to the mountain top. I’ve seen the promised land.

I have loved and I have lost.

Boy, oh boy, how I have loved.

With alacrity.

With fidelity.

With vigour.

With grace.

With honesty and sincerity.

But I tell you what; no amount of flowers and gifts will buy you love,

If the motive in your heart is anything else ,other than true love.

This was never meant to spoil your Valentine Day,if that is what you consider to be the hallmark of your love life.

But spare a moment and listen to your heart.

Can you feel it?

Do you believe in it?

Are you ready to be hurt by love?

Or do you only believe in flowers and the mechanics of going through it all?

Only you,and you alone, have the true answers to those questions.

Someone mix me another drink,and;

Happy Valentines Day 2023!

For Kikuyu’s, burying the dead is all in a day’s work

A little while ago, writer Jackson Biko attended the funeral of his father-in-law in some part of Central Kenya. While the mood at a funeral is usually sober, Biko was taken aback by what he thought was lack of ‘proper’ mourning among the local folks.

“The first thing that strikes you when you go for a Kikuyu funeral is the lack of tears. You have to understand, where I come from when we bring the body home it’s compete bedlam! Utter chaos!

People meet the convoy kilometers from the boma and run alongside the hearse, chanting, waving leaves and sometimes running with cows. People wail; women, men, children, dogs, chicken, birds, goats…everyone! Wails rent the air. If it weren’t for the casket, it could well be a political rally,” he wrote.

Mourners hardly cry

Tears were so rare that Biko had the luxury of counting the number of times his better half cried; when the news of death was broken to her, at the mortuary and during the reading of the eulogy. So calm were the proceedings that he could as well have been attending a Sacco meeting, save for the elaborate photo session with the casket as a backdrop!

Funerals in many parts of Kenya are such a circus that has they have become a source of entertainment over the weekends. Some will go to great lengths to try and appease the dead, lest they return in fury to haunt the living. Feasting, singing, dancing and loud wailing are some of the well choreographed customs meant to give a ‘warm’ sendoff to the dead.

On the other end of the spectrum are some communities that have little time to mourn and will spend a minimal amount of time at a funeral. Foremost among these are our comrades from Central Kenya. What Biko witnessed is a true representation of a typical Kikuyu funeral.

No feasting

In contrast to days gone by, a Kikuyu funeral is conducted in a businesslike manner, and is supposed to take the shortest time possible! As a people who always run on a ‘tight’ budget, they will not go the extra mile in extravagance, buying an expensive suite for the dead, just to give a heroic sendoff to him. Or feasting. In any case, they say, has he not been promoted to glory?

“You must understand that times are hard. We loved our dear one when he was alive. We even did Harambees just to see him through the hospital, but he could not make it. Why spend more now that he is gone? Maisha lazima iendelee kwa walio hai,” says Shiro*, a second-hand clothes dealer in Nairobi West.

The people from Nyumba ya Mumbi cannot understand what the fuss about a dead person is all about. To them, the dead should just be let to rest in peace. “What is this about spending a night or nights in the same house with a dead person before burial?

Why should we take weeks to bury a dead guy? Kwani we are waiting for his resurrection?” poses Kanyua, a father of one.

Graves devalue land

Some would rather transport the dead from their rural home to a cemetery in Nairobi to avoid devaluing their land, in the event they want to sell it. Others, would rather save on transport cost, if someone dies in Nairobi. According to Kanyua, there is no point spending inordinate amounts of time on a person who had little time for others when he was alive. A colleague to this writer who hails from the area related what happened when his brother died here in the city recently. Ordinarily, the young man would have been buried in his ancestral home that is only an hour’s drive from the city.

However, there was the small matter of transportation and other related expenses of having a sizeable crowd gather at the homestead. My colleague made a suggestion to his folks.

“I told my parents that they were free to choose to bury my brother next to his small shamba back home or at Lang’ata Cemetery here in Nairobi. There was one condition though. If they opted to take him to gichagi (back home), then they would have to foot the entire bill since I was not in a position to do so. On the other hand, if they choose to have the funeral in Lang’ata, then I would cater for the expenses.”

His parents did not have to think hard about the matter. “Ati umesema tukimzika hapa nyumbani gharama ni yetu, lakini tukija Lang’ata nutaweza kulipia?” asked his mother before a pause. “Tutakuja Lang’ata,” she said with a note of finality. His brother was interred in Lang’ata within three days of his death.

Funeral tourism

To some fellows from central, attending a funeral is akin to treating oneself to a small outing. Recently, we accompanied a friend who had lost an auntie to her funeral near the Aberdares. Some in the procession who hail from the area felt philanthropic enough to treat the visitors to drinks at a local bar before the ceremony, “lest some people think we were in such a rush to bury the lady.”

As you know, one does not just gulp down the frothy liquid in haste lest the stomach rejects its contents outright. Two hours later, the “mourners” were still in the local and only realised that the funeral was over when they saw city-bound vehicles zooming past the shopping centre.

To other people, the fact that morgues are now a feature in almost every locality, means the amount of time people would have spent transporting the body has been reduced.

Strike business deals

“My late cousin’s body was preserved for a few days at a mortuary in Thika. The distance to my home is only 17 minutes. Why spend over two hours at a funeral when the fellow’s eulogy could not even fill one side of a foolscap?” poses Tom who works in a local media house.

Another colleague from Rift Valley could not stomach the lack of emotion among Central Kenya mourners at a recent burial. He was so incensed that some guys actually took time off from the ‘serious’ funeral business to inspect a piece of land that was on sale nearby.

“They not only inspected the land but took the seller’s contacts promising to get back to him the following week. I thought that was callous, but they thought I was just overreacting over a mere funeral.” Needless to say that the ‘ka-plot’ conversation continued at a popular stopover joint in Thika later on the same evening.

Low turn out angers hawkers

In actual fact, funerals in many areas of Central Kenya have been turned into commercial ventures so much so that all manner of vendors track the daily obituary pages to see where their services might be needed within the region. John Githuku* was surprised to attend a funeral in Murang’a where vendors were complaining about the low turnout, not because of their concern for the bereaved but because their plastic seats would remain unoccupied.

Interestingly, John says that a few members of the funeral committee were also pitching for their business buddies to supply things like water, flowers, printing services and a public address system.

Well, there you have it. The next time you accompany a friend to a funeral near the mountain, don’t bother carrying your dark sunglasses or worrying about the journey back home. .

The Choices I made in 2022

Now is the time when we look back over the past year and wonder: how did I do? Did I make the right decisions? Could I have made better ones?

Well, could you? A determinist who believes that the world unfolds in an inexorably preordained manner would say not. If, on the other hand, you believe in free will, you might feel sure that other decisions were available to you, other paths not taken. “I could have done otherwise” is sometimes taken as the very definition of free will.

But asking if you could have chosen differently is not a yes or no question – in fact, it is simply devoid of meaning. If free will exists, it’s not to be found by asking whether we could have chosen differently.

Sure, that sounds odd. But if we want to talk about actual physical reality, such hypotheticals are irrelevant. Think about it. If you’re wondering whether you should have bought that other car, what does that really mean? You pondered it for days, all of that cogitation feeding into your decision. A whole bunch of other stuff, working out of conscious sight, was influencing your choice too – even, perhaps, what you had for breakfast. (A study in 2011 found that judicial rulings are systematically more lenient after the judges’ lunch break.) What exactly do you imagine changing, then, in this world where you chose differently? Where do you stop? There is no such world in which “everything is the same except my decision”. The decision is not somehow superimposed on the rest of the world, but emerges from it.

It’s the same if we ask about changing the future. A determinist will deny that you can do this – what is going to happen is preordained. But that doesn’t mean they can tell you what that future will be, even if they can make some pretty good predictions about aspects of it. This isn’t just a question of their having incomplete information; we’ll always lack information. Rather, a completely accurate prediction requires your predictive model to omit essentially nothing – to be indistinguishable from the world itself (so-called computational irreducibility). Add that to the sheer randomness of events at the quantum level and you see that it is impossible to be totally sure of anything that happens until it happens. We can only know the future when it arrives.

In other words, the future too is something that cannot be changed – not because the world is deterministic and we lack free will, but by definition: the future is simply “what happens”. A determinist who says at every instant: “That was bound to happen, though I couldn’t have predicted it” is not adding anything to this simple fact.

The neurobiology of volition should be the real locus of discussions both about ‘free will’ and moral responsibility

Yet still we ask both whether we could have acted differently in the past and whether we can change the future. When we do that, however, we’re not wondering about things that truly happened or might happen; we are deploying the imaginative capabilities of our minds. That’s the extraordinary thing about the mind: it is unbounded. As Emily Dickinson wrote: “The Brain – is wider than the sky.” We are constantly creating alternative mental worlds based on our internal models of how the real world works. They may or may not correspond to what happens or what happened, and they’ll certainly ignore almost everything that does happen. They are, in other words, part of the cognitive apparatus of decision-making itself. As philosopher Daniel Dennett says, the mind “mines the present for clues … turning them into anticipations of the future”. That is, in a sense, what minds are for.

Could these imagined worlds have come to pass, or occur in the future? The answer is not yes or no; asking the question is itself the point, for it motivates behavioural choices. In other words, we are asking about the neurobiology of volition – which should be the real locus of discussions both about “free will” and moral responsibility. As cognitive scientist Anil Seth says, the point of having what we call free will is not so that we do anything differently in the moment (different from what?), but that we can learn from our actions to reset our volitional circuitry and make better choices in the future.

This is really why we ask: “Could I have done otherwise?” As Dennett says: “We ask it because something has happened that we wish to interpret … That is, we want to know what conclusions to draw from it about the future.” The main thing, says Dennett, “is to see to it that I will jolly well do otherwise in similar situations in the future” (if indeed it’s something we regret). But do we have that self-determining power, or are we just automata driven by forces beyond our ken or control? Contrary to what is often claimed, modern science does not insist that you are at the whim of your particles. (And don’t be misled by those famous neuroscientific experiments allegedly showing our actions are predictable from brain activity before we’re conscious of having made the decision; they are a red herring.) Instead, it seems to show that, in complex systems like the brain, causal power doesn’t all flow from the bottom up. Our volitional neural circuits are genuine causes of things that happen. We don’t change the future (a meaningless concept), but rather we are a part of what creates it.

That, as Dennett says, is the basis of “free will worth wanting”. I think even some determinists know this deep down. The claim in physicist Sabine Hossenfelder’s book Existential Physics that “the future is fixed except for occasional quantum events that we cannot influence” is rather undermined by her remark that “progress [in science] depends on choice and effort. It is up to us.” Thankfully, it is.

The mental leap to this perspective is both empowering and liberating. To think: “If only I’d chosen X, not Y!” could be a rod for your own back – a source of regret and self-flagellation. Or it could be a learning opportunity: “Now I know what I’ll do next time.” Perhaps this year you will.

My New Year resolutions? None. I’m tired of disappointing myself!

Anxiety dominates my thinking about work, social engagements, the stupid day-to-day admin of being a human – and it doesn’t achieve anything

Over the years, I have learned a few strategies for making new year resolutions: keep them simple, tell as few people about them as possible and do not under any circumstances write them down.

I’ve learned this the hard way. One year I announced – under pressure at a New Year’s Eve party – that I was going to write a play. I never even opened a new document to that effect, but I spent a lot of time worrying about this latest item on the long list of things I will almost certainly never manage.

This time around I’m going to give up on the goal-oriented approach; I’m tired of disappointing myself. I don’t want to worry about any promises I made and didn’t keep all through 2023. Instead, I’m going to try to stop doing something: worrying.

For me, worry is a major blight hanging over what is an otherwise pretty charmed life. Compared with a lot of people, I don’t have very much to worry about. But worry is as irrational as it is powerful; it dominates my thinking about work, about social engagements, about the stupid day-to-day admin of being a human. I feel a spike of anxiety when the day’s post hits the mat, and when I see a new email in my inbox.

If I have nothing to worry about, I worry about the lack of worry – it must mean I’ve overlooked something, or I’m owed some form of comeuppance.

I also have a tendency to carry the previous year’s failures over to the next year’s balance sheet, so I’m still worrying about the net effect of things I didn’t achieve in 2017. Adding annual new year resolutions to the pile seems a little counterproductive.

Some anxiety is unavoidable and even necessary. Most of my work is done to a deadline, and if weren’t for the anxiety a deadline generates I would probably never finish anything. My professional life consists of one late homework assignment after another and, for better or worse, I’m used to it.

In difficult times, worry can even feel like a form of control. By worrying about my problems, I am at least keeping them uppermost in my thinking.

If I’m behind on work, I’ll often get up early to worry about it for an hour or two, and spend the rest of the day pretending that counts as progress.

But worry on its own doesn’t fix anything, and it doesn’t achieve anything. Travel anxiety won’t prevent a holiday disaster. Worrying about an upcoming meeting doesn’t push it back or bring it forward; it still arrives at the appointed hour. Worrying about paperwork doesn’t get it done; at some point you have to stop fretting and fill in the forms.

Sometimes, I feel as if my actual work is something I dash off quickly in between prolonged bouts of worry. I’d like to stop.

Halfway through 2023, I’m going to turn 60. It’s easy to look on this milestone as yet another deadline to be missed. I could probably still get fit by the time I’m 60, but I think I’ve left it too late to learn Italian, or dancing Salsa. I think it might be easier to wipe the slate clean. It shouldn’t be about what I can achieve by the time I’m 60, but afterwards.

I’m not sure how to go about this – right now it’s just an aim in search of a strategy. I doubt I could, or should, eliminate anxiety from my life, but I have some past success with restricting the amount of time I allow myself to freak out about things: the whole day before a deadline, not the whole week before. And although I hate to admit it, worry can sometimes be a bit performative, a display of impotent hand-wringing for the benefit of my partner.

Occasionally, I forget to worry just because there’s no one around to do it in front of.

Maybe I’ll spend New Year’s Eve thinking about the things I did actually manage to achieve in the past 12 months and exhibit a bit of gratitude for all the bad outcomes that somehow passed me by in 2022. I could also do with getting more exercise and better sleep, but those sound a bit like resolutions, and I’m all done with them. If nothing else, I’m going to stop worrying about that play I never wrote.

I am dumping Whatsapp before my friends dump me

I’ve replaced real conversations with texted chats and I miss speaking to the people I love

Lately I’ve been feeling disconnected from my friends, which is strange, as I speak to them all the time. When I say “speak”, I mean we send messages to each other on WhatsApp. I hear their voices when they send voice notes. But mostly we type.

WhatsApp is indisputably convenient. Free to use, intuitive, immediate and, when it comes to group chats with friends, collective fun. A brief scan of my recent chats reveals a copious amount of memes, a photo of my friend’s new six-pack, a rant about someone on telly, an exchange of photos of cold sores, a pet video, a podcast recommendation and yet another attempt to arrange a get-together. I am in two WhatsApp groups that function solely to try to organise an IRL meet-up, which never happens. At least we have WhatsApp.

WhatsApp has managed to commandeer every connection I have in my life, from my 80-year-old mother to the woman who shapes and tints my brows. Thanks to the app I can find out in seconds that it’s non-uniform day at my kids’ school, that I’m supposed to be on a Zoom call or that Beyoncé has a new single out. I can send a voice note to my management team explaining something on the fly while I’m dragging my children home from school. I can get the lowdown on a night out with a group of friends, via voices notes and text, covering eight different perspectives of one room.

But if I wanted more perspectives, that’s available too. This year, the app increased the limit of people allowed in a WhatsApp group chat from 256 to 512 people, and then to 1,024. Just in case you needed to organise a rally or a rave.

Unsurprisingly, there are downsides to WhatsApp. According to a 2017 study, having lots of chats on the go and a “high sensitivity” to read receipts can be linked with “negative psychological consequences”.

How does a messaging app ensure that its users always come back? By making sure the chats never end. Now, I have all my notifications turned off, I use my mute button regularly, I control the app – it doesn’t control me! So why do I feel as if WhatsApp is at the heart of this feeling of disconnection from my friends?

I have lost count of the chats that I’ve joined in enthusiastically, only to then be distracted and forget to reply

In this past year, I have allowed WhatsApp chats to replace real-time conversations. Instead of thinking of a friend and picking up the phone to call them, I open a WhatsApp chat and send a quick “Hi babe, how was your weekend?”. I tell myself it doesn’t take up their time. It’s there as and when they’re ready to reply. And so begins a two- or three-day-long saga of suspended initiations and anticipated replies. Over the course of the interaction, depending on how many other things we are doing at the time, our replies become rushed and scrappy and eventually nonexistent, until one of us starts another one.

I have lost count of the chats that I have started or joined in enthusiastically, only to then be distracted by work or family, and forget to reply. I hate the thought that I have left my friends hanging in the digital ether, waiting for me to get back to them. And I hate being the one left hanging. Slowly, because of this neverending nature of WhatsApp messaging, this conversation I started with someone I love becomes a chore. It’s like only being allowed to eat nibbles for two days straight. No hungry person is satiated with nibbles.

In that creeping, insidious way that tech has of influencing our behaviour, WhatsApp has become all-consuming. When it first arrived, I didn’t have a burning desire to replace my real-time phone conversations with texted chats. I didn’t feel as though I was spending too much time on the phone speaking to my friends. I miss those conversations now.

So for next year, I want to bring back something that I used to do as a regular part of my day. Every time I go to initiate a chat with a friend on WhatsApp, I will phone them instead. Even if it’s a rushed and short conversation, I’ll take it. I’m hoping for a beginning, a middle and an end. To say goodbye and have it reciprocated. Some revelations. Some belly laughs. And when I get the opportunity to have a long, meandering conversation, where we talk about life and figure things out together, I’m hoping to feel filled up, nourished and energised – just like after a good meal.

The WhatsApp chats will still happen, but they won’t forsake real-life conversations with the people I love. No more nibbles. I want a big feed and an empty plate.

Dear Diary-Version 2022

I still get funny looks from people when I mention that I keep a diary. Maybe the practice strikes them as shifty or weirdly old-fashioned. It’s true that I never feel more furtive than when my partner finds me writing it at our kitchen table – it’s like being spotted entering a confessional box in church. What exactly have I got to tell this black book about a life that we share all day, every day? What secrets can I possibly be keeping?

The answer: nothing of any great note, and yet so much of my life is in it. I started writing a journal (as I used to call it) when I underwent an existential crisis twenty five years ago and my mind was swirling with a cascade of never ending thoughts. Twenty years ago I decided to go full-time and since then I’ve kept it more or less every day. Why? I suppose it began as an experiment – and became an obligation. You can’t hold back time, but you can try to save the past from being completely erased. It often feels trivial to record things as they happen (a stray remark that hurts your soul, hearing a song, fleeting moments of doom or delight), but later they may prove useful, or instructive, or amusing. It also maintains the illusion of diligence – that you’re not just pissing away the days fuming about life. A diary is good exercise for the writing muscle, the way a pianist practises scales or a footballer does keepy-uppies. During lockdown, like everyone else, I got into routines that felt numbing in their repetition and diary-wise left me short of material. I took recourse to discussing the books and my addiction to music as a personal therapy, but it got me through.

Which prompts the question: who are you writing for? Ultimately, it’s yourself. Diary-writing is the most private form of literary creation because you are both the author and (for the present at least) the sole reader. There are great advantages to this. The first is the benefit to your mental health. The diary is a safety-valve in an age of invasive scrutiny. I should admit that I have never been big on social media and don’t try to go viral on my posts. (Yeah, I know). Much better to confide your unworthy or unrepeatable thoughts to that book on your desk than pin them up for everyone to read online. There is no fear of being trolled or cancelled when you only write for yourself and you won’t have to live out your regret in public. Is there anything quite so pathetic in social-media manners as the line “They later deleted the tweet”?

Even the greats have used their diary as a psychological prop. James Boswell, often prey to insecurity and low spirits, would address himself in his journal in the second-person, as if he were his own mentor. Studying law as a young man in Utrecht in September 1763, he writes: “Try and be shaved and dressed by nine… Read much privately and continue firm to plan… Resolve now no more billiards. Be not hasty to take music master, and consult Count Nassau about concert. Be frugal, calm and happy, and get wine soon.” I love that last bit.

Entries had immediacy, which lent flavour to the book I was writing

The second is more to do with existential curiosity: the long perspective of diary-writing furnishes a picture not just of what you did but of who you were. To read diaries of old is to chart the progression of the self – “the varieties of ourselves”, as Penelope Lively puts it – as it changes through time. Sometimes I happen on a diary entry from years ago and think, in genuine surprise: did I write that? If it weren’t in my handwriting I would be inclined to doubt it. We evolve, we slough off old selves and acquire new ones, and yet some essential core in us persists, a cast of mind. Memory will play us false about our past, will blur the nuances or miscarry the meaning; a diary, while not infallible, can at least claim: “I was there at the time.”

A third important advantage of the diary is as an aide-memoire to your work. History does the broad sweep of years and decades. Biography does the intricate detail of character and incident. Diaries do both of these jobs, somewhat inadvertently, and may be mined for material thereafter. Certain seismic events are noted in mine, though aside from the odd pandemic and election result there’s not much “hand of history” stuff going on there – that’s not why I write it. I have some sympathy for Louis XVI returning from hunting on the day the Bastille fell and writing in his diary, “Rien”.

There’s a lot about music in mine, and loads of gossip, much of it indefensible.

As you will note, this hardly constitutes fine writing, but here it doesn’t matter. What these entries about gossip had was immediacy and spontaneity, which would lend a different flavour to the diary writing. 

It gives you peace of mind and a place to order your thoughts

The question hovering over every diarist is the one concerning posterity. Are you writing with publication in mind? A tricky one. I’m not sure any writer would dismiss outright the idea of their diary being published one day – only it should be one day when you’re no longer around. There’s a whiff of bad faith about a living writer who publishes their diaries: it sacrifices the vital combination of intimacy and freedom that distinguishes the best. You can’t be quite honest.

There are exceptions. The theatre critic James Agate (1877-1947) wrote a wonderful sequence of diaries called Ego that were published in London from 1932 until his death. They are wit-struck, gossipy, erudite, indiscreet (though not that much; inevitably there’s no mention of his hectic gay life). Agate had high hopes for them: “I would like 100 years hence to be put on the same shelf with Pepys and Evelyn… Ego is a gold brick made from no straw. It may live or it may not. It would be nice if it did.” It did not. The diaries have been out of print for years, and Agate’s name outside theatrical circles is all but forgotten.

Serious contemplation of the future’s indifference to us is like gazing at the sun: you can’t do it for long. Most writers know they are in a race to obscurity. The blessing of a diary is to give you peace of mind, and a place to order your thoughts. I have never loved Virginia Woolf as a novelist, but as a diarist she strikes me as one of the greatest who ever lived.

Here she is on 17 November 1934: “A note: despair at the badness of the book: can’t think how I could ever write such stuff – and with such excitement: that’s yesterday; today I think it good again. A note, by way of advising other Virginias with other books that this is the way of the thing: up down, up down – and Lord knows the truth”. The skittish punctuation married to the intense feeling speak to us down the decades – a completely individual voice expressing the universal. A diary consoles, charms, invigorates; and it keeps remembering while everything else disappears.

I have written Google Docs diary entries in the past one year,and 20 years before this current version for every year. Mostly I do so via the Google app on my phone in a document titled Written Version of 2022. It contains everything you might imagine – slipshod accounts of nights out and lists of everything I recall drinking, lines from poems and films and songs, screenshots of paintings, recipes, scraps of news, seasonally dependent paeans or fury directed towards the weather, honest accounts of my emotional state, less honest accounts of my emotional state.

At the time of writing, Written Version of 2022 is 52,000 words and 85 pages long. Sometimes I’ll augment it with new events two or three times per day. As things happen to me, I am already speculatively ordering them into a narrative, my so-called version of events becoming overlaid with their real-time unfurling. All this is to say, I’m worried my chronic diary-writing habit is starting to get in the way of me actually living my life.

Recently I was out with someone, experiencing something unlike anything else I’d experienced before (I’m choosing my vague words carefully, as this is not a private diary entry). I could not stop verbalising what was happening to me. Eventually the other person said: “Can you just shut up and be in the moment! Save it for your diary or a think piece or whatever.” I did shut up. But I also thought: that line would be great for my diary. Or a think piece.

The philosopher Jacques Derrida wrote about the damaged relationship and false equivalence between writing and truth in his essay Plato’s Pharmacy. The text centres on his reading of an Egyptian myth recounted in Plato’s Phaedrus. Thoth, the god of the moon (among other things), comes to the king of the gods, Thamus, with an offering of several inventions for the Egyptian people, including geometry, astronomy and writing. In his sales pitch for writing, Thoth tells Thamus that the discipline will “make the Egyptians wiser and will improve their memories”. Plato uses the Greek word pharmakon to describe Thoth’s innovation, a term of especial value to Derrida for its polysemic properties – it can mean both remedy and poison – which are lost in the act of translation. Thamus counters Thoth: the invention of writing will have the exact opposite effect, producing “forgetfulness in the souls who have learned it because they will not need to exercise their memories”.

In the last few months, the ticker between good and bad, remedy and poison, which I imagine floating above my diary writing habit, has quivered ever closer to the negative end. It’s why I’ve been toying with giving it up, perhaps even deleting the evidence. Writing provides us with a vitiated form of the past. Friends often tell me they avoid transcribing negative memories into their diaries. It’s too painful, or they don’t want to remember those times in years to come. We write about the good stuff in order to savour and elongate those experiences of happiness, hoping they may reassure an older us that our younger years were well-lived (though I sometimes wonder if an older me might respond to this diary with an entirely different set of emotions to the ones I’ve guessed at).

I know my account of events is partial. I know it forecloses the opportunity for dialogue, disputation and correction, which I am so grateful for in my daily life – when friends remind me: It didn’t happen like that; I saw it this way. (As a child, the graphic novelist Alison Bechdel was so dismayed by the bias of her own subjectivity she developed the anxious tic of writing “I think” before each sentence of her diary – I think I went swimming; I think we went to church etc). And I know, too, that my habit of constantly re-reading my own record of days (using control-F to time-travel back through experiences with particular people) makes it even more likely that my diary will usurp or become a substitute for the true past (if such a thing ever existed).

All these things I know and each is a good enough reason not to begin a Written Version of 2023. But that’s not the whole story – after all, writing is a pharmakon. There wasn’t a Written Version of 2021, just a few aborted Docs here and there (though there was one for 2020, and most years prior to that in physical form). For the duration of that year I was in a relationship. And while that was going on, it felt dishonest to write about my life as if it were a singular experience, when so much of it seemed shared between us.

Only after we broke up did I start my compulsive chronicling again. When you are single, your life closes down. It becomes easier to manage the borders, control the narrative. Maybe that sounds like a negative consequence. But diary writing has also been a great comfort to me since then, not just because it gives me something to do on solitary evenings, but because it’s come to stand for the personal freedom I have rediscovered this year, the textual expression of striking out alone. So I think I’m willing to take the poison, as long as it means I get to keep the cure, for now at least.

I have gone analogue by buying an alarm clock for my bedroom

I have reinstated the alarm clock. An overlooked mechanism in today’s technologically-synced, your-phone-does-everything world, it tells the time, it wakes you up, it is decentralized from a phone. It is marvelous.

Why? Because before I brought an analogue clock back into my bedroom I was averaging two hours and 56 minutes of screen time per week, and my phone told me this every Monday, moments after my alarm would sound.

And, every morning, while only trying to tap “snooze,” I’d be confronted by a flurry of notifications piling up behind one another like a card game of solitaire on the screen. My phone would tell me that my friends were feeling chatty last night with 34-plus Whatsapp messages; there would be Instagram alerts and dozens of emails from multiple accounts. The notifications would fill me with a dread and stress about the day ahead before I’d even had my morning coffee.

Trouble sleeping? Try these 4 easy stretches before bed

I didn’t realize it at the time, but my old analogue clock — a compact, travel model — was a low-key luxury.

https://bc56a42e831657518a1824ad9cf119d9.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html

Its design would have paled in comparison to the latest iPhones, but it did its one job very well; its punctuating and shrill screech was effective at waking me up every morning. Pertinently, it wasn’t filling my mind with chatter, bad news and deadlines before the day had begun.

Riding the world’s most luxurious train with the visionary designer who built it

Changing habits

I made the switch from alarm clock to phone about 10 years ago after I told someone what I thought was a funny story about how my alarm clock had once gone off in my suitcase while in the trunk of a taxi, forcing us to pull over so I could retrieve it. The story provoked bemusement. “You use an actual alarm clock?” they asked, as though it was a fax machine. “Why don’t you use your phone!” Oh, I thought. Why don’t I? I probably didn’t even know I could at the time. But I succumbed to peer pressure and did away with my old clock. And that’s when the luxury of waking up without notifications ended, and the misery of glancing at them in the middle of the night when I checked the time on my phone began.

“The re-introduction of an alarm clock gives me the time, space and separation that my phone didn’t.”

As our use of cell phones continues to grow (a 2018 report by Deloitte found that American smartphone users check their phones 14 billion times a day, up from 9 billion in the same report from 2016), wellness experts say it is having a negative impact our morning routines.

“When you wake up first thing, the ideal is to wake up and spend a little bit of time within your own mind before you’re bombarded with everything else in the world that’s going on. Give yourself a chance to adjust to the waking world,” said mental health and wellbeing coach Lily Silverton. “Historically we’re not used to having our attention taken away as much as it is today.”

Before alarms, it was roosters, church bells, knocker-uppers (people who were paid to wake you up by tapping on the door or window with a long stick, which happened up until the 1970s in industrial Britain) and even our very own bladders that got us out of bed. It is widely thought that the clockmaker Levi Hutchins from Concord, New Hampshire, invented one of the first alarm clocks in 1787. His design would only go off once at 4am, his preferred time to wake. Little appears to be known on the details of the actual design, but he wrote, “It was the idea of a clock that could sound an alarm that was difficult, not the execution of the idea. It was simplicity itself to arrange for the bell to sound at the predetermined hour.” Hutchins never patented or manufactured this clock.

It was years later, in 1874, when the French inventor Antoine Redier became the first person to patent an adjustable mechanical alarm clock. And in 1876, a small mechanical wind-up clock was patented in the US by Seth E. Thomas, which prompted major US clockmakers to start making small alarm clocks. German clockmakers reportedly soon followed and by the end of the 1800s, the electric alarm clock had been invented.

5 things we still get wrong about sleep, according to an expert

Shopping for clocks

Today, alarm clocks come in any number of designs. From riffs on the Panasonic RC-6025 radio alarm clock, immortalized in the 1993 film Groundhog Day, to more retro designs from classic brands like Roberts. A quick search on Etsy reveals novelty designs in the shape of robots, owls or even rabbits.

Elsewhere, more modern designs include the addition of colour night lights, projectors (to project the time on your ceiling or wall! No, thank you), USB ports speakers, temperature and humidity control, and even teen-proof bed-shakers.

Last year, the late Virgil Abloh’s Off-White label teamed up with Braun to release a pair of sleek limited-edition alarm clocks. In orange and blue, the design is based on the brand’s classic BC02 alarm clock which, strikingly simple, had been originally conceived by Dieter Rams and Dietrich Lubs in the 1980s. Fashion brand Paul Smith, too, released its version of the clock back in 2020.

How innovative design is reshaping the sex tech industry

All I was after, though, was a straightforward alarm clock, much like my original. And I got one from the local homegoods store nearby for £8.50 (just over 10 dollars). The first night I used it, I felt oddly excited as I physically wound the setting as opposed to swiping on a screen. The next morning, in somewhat of an anti-climax, I woke up before the alarm. But I’d already felt like I had conquered the day, instead of chasing it.

According to Silverton, “Technology exploits our psychological weaknesses.” And being connected, she noted, is incredible but terrible at the same time. “It’s managing that and creating a routine that works for you.”

Which now I think I have. The re-introduction of an alarm clock gives me the time, space and separation that my phone didn’t. Even though my phone still sits next to the bed, the difference is it’s no longer the first thing I’m reaching for. My first utterance of the day is no longer blaspheming about an email and feeling my blood boil, I find myself gently considering what I might have for breakfast. Which has given me a sense of control and calm. Bizarrely, it has made me feel younger — I supposed because the experience feels nostalgic, or perhaps because I’m getting better sleep. And what can be more luxurious than that?

Dear Santa Claus,remember to bring a present for a lonely oldman

Dear Mr. Santa Claus,
I am an old and lonely oldman
And nobody visits my house
Even on Christmas day
I think I tell you what
I would like for Christmas,
and I hope you won’t forget
I only want one dollar
that I can have for mine own
To get myself
something for Christmastime

I don’t believe you read the card
last Christmas that I sent
You came to see the kids
across the street and then you went
Dear Mr Santa Claus,
I think me understand
Sometimes the toys are all gone
before you reach my house
where I live alone

On Christmas eve I will watch for you
and I will not sleep a wink
If I do not get myself something I will feel sad
So please Mr Santa Claus this Christmas
I will be so grand
If I get just a dollar
to buy myself something for Christmas

Destined to be free,happy and alone

In our hyper-connected world, where the very fabric of our society is being remodeled and reshaped by technology at a lightning-quick pace, and where the old institutions that once held us together (e.g., religion) are crumbling, it’s only natural that an increasing number of us are feeling lonely.

As a result of mass globalization, the rise of the machine, pandemic crises, climate crises, political crises, crises of family, crises of equality, cancel-culture crises, crises of meaning, mental health crises, crises crises crises (am I getting the point across yet?) 

… it’s also no wonder that many of us WANT to be alone, but don’t know how, and have no idea how to even be okay with it.

Table of contents

• My Journey With Being Alone & the Stigma and Shame Surrounding It
• How to Be Happy Alone (5 Empowering Paths)
  • #0 Give yourself permission to have permission
  • #1 Give yourself permission to rest
  • #2 Give yourself permission to play
  • #3 Give yourself permission to pursue a project of unbearable passion
  • #4 Give yourself permission to rewrite the internal narrative 
  • #5 Give yourself permission to heal, grow, and be gentle
• What if You’re Still Unhappy Being Alone?
• Further Resources
• Final Words

My Journey With Being Alone & the Stigma and Shame Surrounding It

There is still so much stigma surrounding spending time alone.

As someone who has been on a pretty solitary journey for the past 10+ years, I still at times grapple with the shame that surrounds being not just an introvert, but a loner.

I have a strong relationship, two doggos that I adore, work that I love, and a nourishing spiritual practice, but I don’t have many friends. 

In fact, I haven’t had a solid group of friends since my high school years. I kind of just … became a lone wolf after graduating high school and university. And forming adult relationships since then has been a pretty “meh” experience.

I have tried volunteering, I have tried joining yoga and meditation classes, and even a Buddhist center, but the fact is that I am, (1) shy, (2) still carry unresolved attachment wounds from childhood that make my boundaries either too rigid or too porous (it’s a work in progress!), (3) struggle with anxiety due to my religious trauma, (3) am a neurodivergent HSP who struggles with sensory overwhelm, and (4) I love my solitude!

I’m not looking for advice here. I’m fortunate to have access to therapy, so I’m not inviting free therapy in the comments. I have done a lot of inner work and have made a lot of progress through the years – and I’m still on this journey of softening, opening, and returning to my inner Center.

But the truth of the matter is that I find myself alone a lot of the time, other than spending time with my partner and our dogs each day and visiting extended family once a week. 

The work I do (writing for and running this website) means that I spend the majority of my time (maybe 90% of my week) online and at home. For me, this is a dream come true … no commutes to work? Hell yeah! No office politics? Woohoo!

But I also, from time to time, feel lonely. I sometimes get pangs of guilt that whisper, “You need to get out more and be more like other people.” Or shame that says, “Everyone else has tons of friends – look at them all laughing and smiling in that social media post! – why don’t you have that?” 

And that place deep inside of me – the wounded inner child you could call it – sometimes wonders, “Is there something seriously wrong with me?” to which my inner critic chimes in and says, with a cold smile and a Cruella Deville voice, “Yes, there IS something terribly wrong with you, darling. You are fundamentally broken, and everyone can see it.” 

But although I don’t have many friends IRL, and find myself alone a lot of the time, I have learned how to be happy alone. Even before my work here, finding my partner, or getting my dog companions, I learned how to be happy alone when I was truly internally alone. And I believe it was that capacity to enjoy being alone, that allowed me to enjoy the life I currently live.

So I will draw on that wisdom and the lessons I’ve learned across the past 10+ years to help you, dear reader and fellow lone wolf, to learn how to be happy alone, and be okay with it.

How to Be Happy Alone (5 Empowering Paths)

I’m not sure what circumstances have led to you being alone. 

Maybe you’ve gone through a breakup, a divorce, changed country, have neurodivergence, are going through some kind of spiritual awakening, are at an age where most friends and family members have passed, have a solitary job, struggle with some kind of mental illness, are a carer, are a stay-at-home parent, don’t know to reach out to others – whatever the case, I want you to know that being alone is a blessing.

Yes, being alone can sometimes feel like a curse, and we do need human warmth from time to time (a therapist and even online friends and connections can be of help in that case), but I want to reframe and change the way that we look at being alone. 

Being alone helps us to :

• Listen to our needs and our own inner voice
• Relax, unwind, and decompress
• Discover what we truly want in life
• Access creative ideas and original thinking
• Tap into deep emotional and spiritual insights
• Befriend ourselves
• Tune into the voice of our Soul

(Let me know if there are any other benefits that you’ve discovered to being alone in the comments! Also, there’s a sweet little book in the lonerwolf shop called The Power of Solitude, if you’re keen on going more deeply into this topic.)

So with that being said, here’s how to be happy alone and be okay with it:

#0 Give yourself permission to have permission

I want to begin with this preliminary step here that recognizes that “permission” is the key to learning how to be happy alone. Why?

Permission is what gives us the internal authorization to think, feel, and do things in a different way. 

We often carry so much inner baggage surrounding being alone. We’re taught by society in all of its many forms that not having any friends, or a partner, or a family, etc., means that there is something “wrong” with you.

But when we look at the cesspool of suffering that is society and the “Soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation” that is social media (I have to channel my inner Wednesday Addams here, hehe), that’s not exactly a great standard to live by, is it?

So give yourself permission to be happy alone. Give yourself permission to LOVE your solitude. Permit yourself to be alone on easter, on Halloween, on Christmas, on every major calendar event, and feel good about it and yourself! Because why shouldn’t you?

You have the right to be happy alone.

#1 Give yourself permission to rest

Being alone means that you probably have more space than other people. And even if you find yourself in a situation where you’re not physically alone (and are instead around many others), that internal aloneness can enable you to tune into yourself and your body and mind’s needs.

Rest allows you to calm your vagus nerve/nervous system, regain vitality and creativity, and feel contained in your body again. Rest is the prerequisite to all following points below because, without rest, we don’t have the energy, imagination, or impulse to make the most of our solitude.

#2 Give yourself permission to play

Learning how to play and have fun by yourself is tremendously healing. When it comes to learning how to be happy alone, play is at the very heart of what makes solitude so enjoyable.

What does play look like for you? What do you feel excited about creating? What do you feel joyful doing?

Take your inner child by the hand, step into the role of the loving inner parent, and go wild! That might mean learning how to bake something delicious, honing the art of gardening, learning an artistic skill, embarking on a crafty project, traveling to a new and mysterious place, playing with your furry family members, or star gazing – there are so many opportunities to play!

In this article I wrote ages ago on how to spend Christmas alone, I provide a whole bunch of (often goofy) ways of having fun by yourself.

#3 Give yourself permission to pursue a project of unbearable passion

Okay, maybe “unbearable passion” is a little melodramatic. But what I mean is that the key to not only learning how to be alone but relishing it is to find out what lights you on fire.

What fascinates, thrills, inspires, heals, delights, and intrigues you?

Play (the previous point I just wrote about), is what enables you to find what you love occupying your time with and what your ikigai (a Japanese word meaning ‘reason for being’) is.

If your passion also helps humanity in some way, extra brownie points to you because not only will that make being alone worthwhile, but also deeply meaningful.

As a result of my own personal play and exploration, I discovered my ikigai in the form of this website: lonerwolf (unironically named!).

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#4 Give yourself permission to rewrite the internal narrative 

Often, being alone is coupled with feelings of guilt, toxic shame, self-blame, self-loathing, and a whole load of other painful emotions. It’s not uncommon to fall into a kind of victim mentality where we feel like tiny little islands in the vast ocean of life.

“Why can’t I be more like …. ?” “Look at all their friends! I don’t have any of that … I’m a sad loser.” “It’s tragic to be spending this much time by myself.” “There must be something wrong with me.” “I’m always going to be alone.” “No one understands or cares about me.”

Have you ever had any of the above inner narratives rotating around your mind? (I certainly have!)

Giving yourself permission to rewrite your inner narrative means being willing to step out of the role of being a victim, or being a weirdo, or being a [fill in negative self-judgment here], to simply being a person who happens to be alone.

What would rewriting your inner narrative look, feel, and sound like to you?

How can you gift yourself with a positive, healthier, and self-affirming inner narrative? 

Examples might include, 

• “I’m an introvert who loves spending time alone, and that’s okay!” 
• “I feel nourished and revitalized by spending time alone.” 
• “Although I might feel lonely from time to time, I know that I am always connected to my higher power.” 
• “Many people are alone like me right now, and that’s okay. It gives me more space to do the things I love.” 
• “I have the right to embrace my personality style and not buy into the false messages of society about who I ‘should’ be.” 

Can you think of any other self-healing inner narratives?

#5 Give yourself permission to heal, grow, and be gentle

Without the level of solitude I’ve experienced, there’s no way I would be able to:

1. Feel creative enough to write for and create the content for this platform
2. Create and sustain this website in the first place
3. Go deep into my inner work and healing spiritual journey
4. Forge a nourishing connection with Soul and Spirit
5. Find connection in different ways: through nature, meditation, spirit guides and allies, online groups, and friendly faces

Learning how to be happy alone and being OK with it is 100% an inner job – it’s a mentality that we carry, not something we can ever find on the outside.

Being alone opens the doorways to deeper healing, mental/emotional/spiritual growth, and the ability to find out who we are and what we want. It gives us the space to process old traumas, heal old wounds, and begin anew.

Ever wonder why many monks, nuns, sages, mystics, and spiritual figures through the ages spent prolonged periods alone? It’s because aloneness can be tremendously healing if you allow it to be.

Sure, the mind might jump in and start parroting judgments based on societal conditioning, but solitude has always been a gateway to not just joy, but also fulfillment.

Think of Jesus in the desert, Muhammad in the cave, Moses on the mountain, and so on and so forth.

I’m not saying that being alone means becoming some kind of prophet, but instead, what I’m saying is that being alone is innately a spiritual rite of passage. 

And maybe, that’s the ultimate reason why you’re finding yourself alone. (Only you can figure that out.)

What if You’re Still Unhappy Being Alone?

If none of the advice above speaks to you, or you’ve actually tried all the advice and are still miserable, there might be a few reasons why.

Perhaps you’re an extrovert who naturally needs and thrives around others, or your trauma is preventing you from enjoying your aloneness as well as others’ company.

What do you do if you’re still unhappy being alone?

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The Self-Love Journal is a sacred temple in which to fan the flames of your innermost heart and soul. Learn how to love your most broken, vulnerable, and traumatized parts through the power of self-compassion!

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Here’s some advice:

• Seek out a therapist (there are many options out there, both online and in-person)
• Try volunteering as a meaningful gateway to connecting with other people
• Go out and simply be around people and take comfort in their presence (offering a smile every now and then to a stranger can help you to feel connected, and 9/10 it will be reciprocated)
• Find places that make you feel safe and relaxed, like the local park or library, and regularly visit them (which increases your chance of making friends greatly)

Further Resources

If you’ve come to the end of this article and are wondering, “What’s next?” here are some further resources you might like to look into on your solitary path:

• The Power of Solitude (explores solitude in the context of the spiritual journey and inner growth)
• Soul Searching: 7 Ways to Uncover Your True Path (helps you to find a deeper sense of purpose)
• Feeling Alone: 13 Ways to Stop Feeling So Lonely and Isolated (self-explanatory)
• Feeling Empty: 5 Ways to Heal Your Inner Void (helpful for when being alone is also paired with feeling empty inside)
• How to Find Yourself When You’re Lost in Life (9 Steps) (if you need a few helpful pointers)

Final Words

To wrap up this guide on how to be happy alone, let me leave you with a beautiful poem. I think it nicely summarizes the beauty of solitude and the opportunities present in this often-feared experience:

Be a thunderstorm after a gentle rain,

or lightning that strikes on a clear day.

Be the lone wolf away from a pack,

get lost in thought, find your way back.

Be complex, no need to analyze,

whatever you are, is perfectly right.

An identical match, or one of a kind,

be darkness, or the light that blinds.

Discover your truth, even if it burns,

seek what makes your soul yearn.

Howl at the moon, slide down a star,

be the magnificent being you are.~ Debra McLain

Tell me, what led you to this article? I’d be curious to hear, and whether it has helped you at all. 🙂

***

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Why do I need to meet up with people I rarely see during the year just for Christmas celebration?

Christmas time. It’s noisy, materialistic, and socially overwhelming.

Most people plan for it, spend for it, live for it, and dread it all at the same time, each year.

In our society, the Christmas ideal is to sit around a heavily bedazzled tree or heftily set dinner table with every member of our family and friendship circles.

But the truth is, many of us don’t meet or fulfil that ideal.  

Many of us wind up feeling lonely, isolated, and disillusioned because of our lack of close friendships or family members.  And so we spend Christmas alone.

For those of us who have undergone some kind of spiritual awakening or existential crisis, Christmas time can be particularly painful. And that’s what I plan to cover in this article.

Table of contents

• Christmas and Spiritual Awakening
• The Joy of Spending Christmas Alone
• 51 Things to Do Alone on Christmas
• What to Do if You Decide to (or Have to) Spend Christmas With Others

Christmas and Spiritual Awakening

Among many of the reasons why we may spend Christmas alone, undergoing a spiritual awakening is one of the top causes.

When we experience a spiritual awakening (and due to the state of the planet, an increasing number of people are), we tend to feel overwhelmed by everything. We begin to question our life choices, what our meaning of life is, and see life in a different light.

This process of life-turning-on-its-head tends to make Christmas a particularly difficult and even traumatic time.

We might ask questions such as:

• Why do I need to meet up with people I rarely see during the year for a celebration that is old and outdated?
• What’s the point of pretending that I “like” or “want to spend time with” family members who are toxic?
• I’m not Christian and/or I don’t believe in the origins of Christmas – why should I then celebrate it?
• How do I stop feeling so depressed and anxious during this time of year?
• Do I even want to celebrate Christmas in the first place?

As a result of the internal process of spiritual transformation occurring, our priorities become clearer and deeper concerns rise to the surface – Christmas becomes a time of dread and depression.  

Not only that, but we may not wish to adhere to the same consumerism that is destroying the planet and our souls. Saying no, being true to ourselves, and listening to our integrity becomes anxiety-provoking as we don’t want to go against the status quo in our family of origin. And yet, a part of us craves to break free and live according to our own values. A painful split emerges within us.

Furthermore, society tells us that to be alone (or to spend time Christmas alone) is tragedy that makes us sad and pitiful human beings. Sure, this might not be blatantly taught to us, but it’s an unspoken, subliminal message that we absorb. And it’s utter nonsense.

The Joy of Spending Christmas Alone

Before I get into the joy of spending Christmas alone, let’s explore why we fear aloneness.

First off, being alone is not the same as being lonely. The two are totally different experiences.

To set the record straight: being alone is something we enjoy or choose. Being lonely is something we fear and avoid.

So why the fear of spending Christmas alone?

I believe we fear spending Christmas alone, not just because of the social conditioning that we shouldn’t, but also because very few people know how to be alone anymore.

Why?

Well, when we’re alone, we have to face ourselves, our thoughts, and the irrepressible truth that we are alone, at an ego level. This fear of facing the hard truths of life causes us to fear being alone, and in the process, forget the delights of solitude.

In our society, it is heretical not only to be alone but heretical to find contentment and fulfillment by ourselves, in ourselves as well.  

As writer and solitude-lover, Lionel Fisher, comments in his book Celebrating Time Alone,

… we’ve been conditioned to press on mindlessly, be part of the norm.  

And that norm is to stuff our inner void as full of stimulation and noise as possible.  

The fact is that we need to relearn how to be alone.  If we ever desire true inner peace, self-knowledge, and happiness – the kind that can only be discovered in solitude – we need to relearn how to be alone.  We need to make peace with our aloneness. We need to embrace the power of solitude. 

Fortunately, the holiday season is the perfect time to celebrate time alone with yourself. It’s fundamentally an act of self-care. It may be odd and out of the ordinary, but to live up to the standards of a sick, deeply flawed society is misguided. 

Below you’ll find a list of just over 50 quirky, challenging, and enjoyable ideas to help you savor Christmas alone (if you choose to).

51 Things to Do Alone on Christmas

Note:

While some of the below ideas cater to the playful, silly inner child side within us, others cater to our more serious, adult, and practical inner dimensions. I’m sure you’ll find at least one idea that appeals to you below.

1.   Spend the morning in self-deprivation, and spend the evening in self-indulgence.

2.   Recreate your outer space. Decorate your room with Christmas lights, and turn out all the lights.

3.  Take a road trip to a place you’ve never been before.

4.   Have a conversation with yourself all day.

5.   Compose your own Christmas carol.

6.   Practice sensory deprivation and try spending Christmas day without hearing or seeing.

7.   Give yourself the gift of silence. Block out all noises and distractions and do what matters to you the most.

8.   Search for the loneliest looking person in town and give them a present.

9.   Sing karaoke to your favorite songs and dance around until you collapse from exhaustion.

10.   Sit outside and appreciate nature while drinking calming and mood-boosting teas like passionflower, kava kava, and damiana.

11.   Try to set a world record, and email Guinness World Records when you achieve it.

12.   Give your face and body a makeover. Shave, wax, polish, paint, trim, and moisturize every part you can find!

13.   Take a bag full of old Christmas decorations and stuff someone’s letterbox full of them, to give them a surprise the next day.

14.   Practice exercises in mindfulness meditation.

15.    Become an indoor nudist for the whole day.

16.   Think of one guilty interest (e.g., crystal healing for the skeptic) and spend the day exploring your curiosity.

17.   Spend Christmas planting a ‘Christmas Garden.’

18.   Read an interesting book that will expand your mind such as The Spiritual Awakening Process or Old Souls (shameless plug for our books 🙂 )

19.   Do 3 good deeds that will make you happy.

20.   Spend Christmas researching new hobbies and interests to broaden your mind, and world.

21.   Create a fort or cave out of pillows and bed sheets, and spend the day inside doing what you love best.

21.   Make your own Christmas decorations by hand, and cover your house in them.

22.   Pretend you are the actor and director of your day. Make it movie worthy.

23.   Come up with a list of 20 reasons why you shouldn’t celebrate Christmas.

24.   Sit outside and eat your favorite food slowly, savoring every bite in complete mindful awareness.

25.   Go to your local park and soak in the sights, smells, and sounds of Christmas day. Feel the happy vibes.

26.   Cook yourself something you think the Queen would eat, and enjoy it all to yourself.

27.   Have a movie marathon.

28.   If you have a pet, give it a special present. Treat your companion like royalty.

29.   Buy something from the internet for yourself. You’ll have something to look forward to long after Christmas is over.

30.   Create a riddle, put it where someone will find it, and hide a prize. Return to the place at the end of the day to see if anyone found it.

31.   Open a map of your town, close your eyes, and point to a place on the map. Drive or walk there, and see what you find.

32.   Take a walk in the late afternoon to smell all the delicious food emanating from your neighbor’s houses. Guess what they’re cooking.

33.   Go to the beach with your favorite novel, very early or very late, to avoid the commotion.

34.   Collect items that represent your feelings and thoughts about Christmas day. Put them in a time capsule box and bury them in your backyard.

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35.   Spend the morning researching the history of Christmas. Spend the evening creating a YouTube video about what you discovered.

36.   Buy or make something special, and put it on your neighbor’s doorstep. Ring the bell and run away.

37.   Think about what you loved to do as a kid that you don’t do anymore, and do it, e.g., if it was taking bubble baths, whip out your bath crystals!

38.   Make your day more humorous. Watch a comedy, laugh at people and yourself, and look for reasons why the things you take seriously are comedic.

39.   Sit and observe people on Christmas day and write a short story about them. Then print out and stick it in the letterboxes of every house on your street.

40.   Think of every reason why you enjoy being alone for the entire day.

41.   Reassess your daily routine and 3 alternative ways to do what you normally do. Put them in practice.

42.   Be actively lazy, and spend the day in bed trying to lucid dream.

43.  Spend the day opening, cleansing, and balancing the chakras within your body. For example, you could drink soothing herbal teas (such as these) that resonate with each chakra.

44.   If you’re religious, go to a church and daydream about your best-loved saints sitting next to you and talking to you. What would they say to you?

45.   Use the day to achieve something important. For example, write a whole blog post, get to level 22 on your game, solve 50 riddles, etc.

46.   Spend the day painting your impression of Christmas day and stick it on your front door.

47.   Be eccentric. Weird out the people in your neighborhood by hanging bizarre things off a tree outside your house.

48.   Nurture yourself for the whole day.  Give yourself hugs, write yourself a poem, and compose a list of everything you love about yourself (this self-love article might help).

49.  Do 5 things that are silly or ridiculous to you, and see if you get any life epiphanies.

50.   If it’s snowing, sneak out early in the morning and make a family of Christmas snowmen, positioning them mysteriously all over town.

51. Do some soul searching. Reflect on who you are, what you want from life, and what brings you a sense of meaning and purpose.

What to Do if You Decide to (or Have to) Spend Christmas With Others

Sometimes, we dearly want to spend Christmas alone, but it’s just not possible. That’s the way life is presenting itself right now. What do we do?

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Although this article is aimed toward those who have undergone a spiritual awakening and are struggling with Christmas, these tips can help anyone at any stage of their life journey:

• Take care of your stress levels. Relax before the event, e.g., ensure that you’re grounded, well-rested, and organized.
• Be present with your inner child. Expanding the above point, be aware that holidays like Christmas can trigger old patterns of stress and fear within us. These patterns come from the wounded inner child – and we all, more or less, have one. So give yourself a lot of validation, love, and support. You deserve it and need it. See our inner child article for more guidance.
• Set boundaries and limits. For example, make it known how long you can be at the celebration/gathering before you need to go to ____________ You get to decide. The power is in your hands.
• If contributing to consumerism/climate change is an issue for you, think about giving more mindful gifts. Focus on sustainable and ethically produced items. Bamboo is a great choice and place to start as it’s widely accessible and is manufactured in a variety of ways (from coffee mugs to bed linen).
• Keep it simple. Focus on simplifying what you need to do. Stick to the essentials. Don’t be afraid of letting go of the tasks and Christmas habits you’ve always done simply because they’re familiar.
• Think about how you’d like to reclaim your holidays for next year. Let’s face it, Christmas can feel really arbitrary and pointless. Why not plan for how you’d like to make Christmas (or another celebration you choose) more intentional. Don’t be afraid to create a new holiday ritual for you and your family that feels authentic.
• Limit contact (as much as possible) with toxic family members. We all have *that* uncle, parent, mother in law, or extended family member who’s a pain in the ass. Be strategic and find ways of limiting your contact with them. Doing so will help you hold onto that little bit of extra sanity.
• Gratitude helps a lot. Yes, I know the situation might not be ideal for you. But there are much worse situations out there. In fact, science has proven that being grateful is a powerful way of remaining happy and calm. So no, you don’t need to be thankful for your sibling’s self-entitled or snarky behavior, but you can be grateful that they have raised beautiful children that bring joy to the world.

***

Christmas is a celebration that is imposed on us by society. We often feel the need to play by its unspoken rules, and thus we experience a loss of our self-sovereignty. But with mindfulness, self-compassion, and a little effort, it can become a source of empowerment.

Enjoy, and take care of yourself!

So tell me, what is your story? Are you spending Christmas alone out of choice … or perhaps by circumstance? Maybe you are sharing Christmas with others but don’t want to. Share below to let others know that they’re in good company.

Get in touch with your spiritual awakening this Christmas

Going through a spiritual awakening is one of the most confusing, lonely, alienating, but also supremely beautiful experiences in life.

Put simply, spiritual awakenings mark the beginning of your initiation on the spiritual path. Without experiencing a spiritual awakening, we go throughout life pursuing the emptiness of money, fame, power, and respect in an attempt to find “happiness.”

The unsettling and equally beautiful thing about spiritual awakenings is that they occur at the least expected times. There is no way you can plan for them. They lurch into your life and shake everything up like tornadoes. But the hidden gift buried deep within them is that they occur at the precise time that you need them the most.

Spiritual awakenings are the soul’s cry for freedom.

Listen to its call and your life will be transformed into something meaningful and significant.

Refuse its call and your life will be like a graveyard.

If you have experienced a spiritual awakening, you have come to see through the lies and illusions of this world. Deep in your soul, you realize that nothing external has ever, and can ever, bring you true happiness or fulfillment. This profound realization leaves you craving for something richer, more fulfilling, and something that will make you feel whole once again.

If you’re looking for answers, if you’re thirsting for a direction in life, this page will share with you everything you need to know. On this page, you will find all the possible spiritual resources you need for the beginning of your journey including what spiritual awakening is, common spiritual awakening symptoms, and much more.

If you feel this page may help a friend or family member close to you, please share it and pass along this vital information.

Table of contents

• What is a Spiritual Awakening?
• My Experience With the Spiritual Awakening Process
• Why Did Your Spiritual Awakening Happen?
• What Triggers the Spiritual Awakening Process?
• The Dark Night of the Soul & Awakening
• 7 Spiritual Awakening Stages
• 23 Spiritual Awakening Signs and Symptoms
• Physical Spiritual Awakening Symptoms
• 3 Spiritual Awakening Myths
• Spiritual Awakening Q&A
• Spiritual Awakening and Inner Work
• Spiritual Awakening Book

What is a Spiritual Awakening?

What is the meaning of ‘spiritual awakening’?

When we undergo a spiritual awakening (also known as spiritual ascension), we literally “wake up” to life. We begin to question our old beliefs, habits, and social conditioning, and see that there is much more to life than what we have been taught.

It is common to ask questions such as, “Why am I here?” “What is the purpose of my life?” “What happens after death?” “Why do good people suffer?” and other questions that examine the fundamental nature of life during your awakening. Spiritual awakenings stir the deepest and most significant questions within us that we have been putting off asking or have been too scared to touch.

If you’ve experienced a spiritual awakening, you might crave to find the meaning of your life and whether there is a “higher state” of being. Searching for God, or for the Divine, is a common desire during this experience.

My Experience With the Spiritual Awakening Process

I experienced the beginnings of my spiritual awakening in 2010. At that time, I was deeply brainwashed and trapped in a world of cultish teachings from the fundamentalist Christian church I was born into.

But something was eating away at me. I began to doubt, question, and sense that there was way more to life than my indoctrinated outlook, and I felt deeply lost and alone. I had no one outside of the church that I felt comfortable talking to about my feelings. I had no true friends to confide in – and my family didn’t understand – or rather, didn’t want to. As a result, I felt so alienated and suffocated with loneliness that I developed depression, health issues, OCD, and chronic anxiety, the latter lasting for many years.

Like Neo in the movie The Matrix, I was being offered the red and blue pill. Should I continue taking the blue pill and remain in my comfortable ignorance? Or should I take the red pill and be free (but experience the pain of waking up)?

Long story short, I chose the red pill. It wasn’t easy at first. I would often carry the unshakable sensation that I was falling endlessly through a void of darkness. The Dark Night of the Soul descended quickly upon me. And ultimately, I had no fucking idea what was happening and thought for sure I was losing it (or would burn in hell for eternity).

But it was WORTH all the pain and sacrifice. No regret. The amount of growth, love, transformation, and freedom I’ve experienced since choosing the ‘red pill’ has been totally mind-blowing, life-changing, and unfathomably profound.

Why Did Your Spiritual Awakening Happen?

So, why do spiritual awakenings happen in the first place?

Spiritual awakenings happen as a natural product of your Soul evolving, expanding, and maturing.  Just as everything in life grows, so too does our connection with our Souls.

The more you connect to your Soul (whether accidentally or intentionally), the more you experience transformation. The more you come to embody your Soul, the more you taste true and lasting joy, peace, fulfillment, freedom, and love.

While the spiritual awakening process can feel painful and disturbing at first, it ultimately helps you to live a more meaningful life. The sensation that your life doesn’t make sense anymore is the product of having all of your former beliefs, desires, and paradigms challenged and often disproven. This is traumatic, but a necessary part of your expansion.

What Triggers the Spiritual Awakening Process?

You might be curious to know what activates spiritual awakenings.

The answer is that innumerable circumstances can trigger this process! There really is no one answer.

Spiritual awakenings can happen at any moment or period in your life. They can be spontaneous, but they can also be triggered by major life changes, illnesses, tragedies, and traumas such as life-threatening illnesses, car accidents, divorces, war, midlife crises, and much more.

Awakening can also happen due to your temperament. For instance, you might be an old soul or a sensitive empath by nature (these types of people are more ‘plugged into’ the transcendent side of life). Furthermore, for some people, spiritual awakenings are even triggered by deep but challenging twin flame relationships.

Generally speaking, the spiritual awakening process happens in conjunction with an experience known as The Dark Night of the Soul.

The Dark Night of the Soul & Awakening

If you’re highly sensitive to the suffering of others and are a deep thinker by nature, it is possible that you have gone through, or are currently going through, a Dark Night of the Soul.

The Dark Night of the Soul is a period in life when we feel completely cut off from God or the Divine. The more aware you become of your disconnection from the Divine, the more chances you have of experiencing a Dark Night of the Soul.

Going through a Dark Night of the Soul is profoundly entwined with the process of spiritual awakening. Before seeing the light (i.e. spiritually awakening) we must “walk through the valley of the shadow of death” in order to prepare our minds and hearts for the conscious upgrade.

Just think about the analogy of getting dressed. In order to put on new clothes, you must take off the old ones. That, in a nutshell, is essentially what the Dark Night of the Soul is about. The old must be stripped away in order to make way for the new. This means that the suffering you experience during the Dark Night of the Soul is for a purpose – and that is the destruction of the old (outdated beliefs, identities, habits) to pave way for fresh ways of being.

This life is a cycle of birth and death. As such, going through the Dark Night is not a pretty or manicured experience – at its core, it’s raw, primal, and the most difficult experience known to humanity. Everything is stripped away from you. There is no light, no clarity, and no peace. But please know that it is a stage, and like everything in life, it will naturally fade.

There are ways of speeding up the Dark Night (like doing inner work) which we have explored on this website extensively. I have gone through a bleak and chaotic Dark Night of the Soul, and let me tell you, inner work is vital. It’s kind of like the difference between letting your old clothes just fall off you (which is a long, unhygienic, and tiresome process) or actively pulling them off and throwing them to the wind yourself.

Signs you might be experiencing a Dark Night of the Soul (along with a spiritual awakening) include the following:

• You feel isolated from everything (others, yourself, life in general)
• You feel abandoned by god/the divine
• Your mood is almost always low and melancholic
• You’re lost and don’t know which direction is right
• You feel despair and horror when observing the world
• You feel a sense of existential dread
• You feel deep tiredness in your bones
• You lack the motivation to keep doing what you used to
• You’ve lost interested in most things
• You keep pondering the deep questions of life (e.g. “what is the purpose?”)
• You feel like you don’t belong on this planet

This list is not exhaustive, so keep in mind you might be experiencing signs that aren’t included here. You can take our free Dark Night of the Soul test if you need more clarification.

7 Spiritual Awakening Stages

The spiritual awakening process is complex, multi-layered, and different for everyone. In reality, it cannot be fit into neat categories.

However, with that being said it is helpful to have a kind of “map” to locate where you’re at right now. The following stages are general. They define the overall flow of the spiritual awakening process:

Stage 1 – Unhappiness, despondency, and feeling lost

In this stage, you experience the aforementioned Dark Night of the Soul. This is a time of confusion, disconnection, alienation, depression, and great unhappiness with life. You are searching for something, but you don’t quite know what. There is a great looming emptiness inside of you. This stage either emerges spontaneously or due to a life crisis (e.g. breakup, divorce, death, trauma, illness, major life change).

Stage 2 – Shifting perspectives

You start to perceive reality in a totally different way. In this stage, you start seeing through the lies and delusions propagated by society. You feel unhappy with life, disturbed by the suffering you see and hopeless to the ills of the world. You no longer see life as you once did in your previous state of complacent unawareness.

Stage 3 – Seeking answers and meaning

There must be a point to all this, right? In this stage, you’re asking all the deep questions. You are in search of your life purpose, spiritual destiny, and the meaning of life itself. You will start dabbling in different metaphysical, self-help, and esoteric fields in the search for answers and truth. Your focus is on beginning your spiritual search.

Read: What is Spirituality? (EVERYTHING You Need to Know) »

Stage 4 – Finding answers and experiencing breakthroughs

After a lot of soul searching, you’ll find a few teachers, practices, or belief systems that ease your existential suffering.(Beware: a lot of spiritual bypassing can occur in this stage.) You will feel a sense of expansion as old patterns dissolve and your true self (soul) begins to emerge. You may have a number of mystical experiences or brief moments of satori (spiritual enlightenment) that give you a glimpse into the ultimate nature of reality. This is a time of joy, hope, connection, and awe.

Stage 5 – Disillusionment and feeling lost again

Life is about movement. With the spiritual awakening process, there is always an ebb and a flow. In this stage, you become bored and tired of your spiritual teachers or practices. You may become disillusioned by the faux spiritual BS out there and crave for something deeper. You may have even experienced long periods of connection with the Divine, only to become separated again (this is normal). Understandably, you’ll feel disturbed and deeply upset by this experience. Additionally, while you may have experienced many mental/emotional/spiritual breakthroughs, they might feel superficial. You crave authenticity and for deep spirituality that permeates your life and transforms every part of you. The unhappiness and stagnation you feel will motivate you to go in search for more.

Stage 6 – Deeper inner work

In this stage, you’re not interested in dabbling in feel-good spiritual philosophies or surface practices anymore. The abiding pain you feel inside motivates you to do deep inner work. You may become a serious student of meditation, mindfulness, ritual, inner child work, shadow work, body work or various other transpersonal philosophies.

Stage 7 – Integration, expansion, joy

Integration means taking the spiritual lessons you’ve learned from your inner work and applying them to your daily life. Integration happens both naturally and consciously as a habit in deep spiritual practice. In this stage, you’ll experience the most profound and long-lasting changes deep within. Many people experience prolonged mystical experiences and periods of unity with the Divine in the integration phase. Remember that enlightenment, or full self-realization, is never guaranteed: we can strive for it, but it is ultimately a gift from Life. Nevertheless, profound peace, love, and joy emerge and are felt in this stage. You may feel ready to be a spiritual mentor or role model in your community and pass on your insight to others. Life will become less about you and more about We. Your perspective will expand and you will start seeing things from the big picture. Above all else, you will feel connected, at peace with yourself, and deeply aligned with life.

Note: it is common to move back and forth between these spiritual awakening stages. Remember that this is not a linear process – you cannot just move from A to B to C. This is a complex and messy path, so it’s perfectly fine if it doesn’t look like what I’ve described. Your spiritual awakening process is unique to you. But I do hope this analysis has helped (in some way) you to ‘gain your bearings.’

23 Spiritual Awakening Signs and Symptoms

There are many spiritual awakening symptoms. In fact, spiritual awakening symptoms are not only emotional but also psychological and even physical. Here are twenty-three of the most common symptoms out there. See how many you can identify with:

1. You feel as though your life is false
2. You craving for meaning and purpose
3. You begin asking deep questions
4. You realize that a lot of what you’ve been taught is a lie
5. You feel completely lost and alone
6. You see through the illusions of society
7. You see how unhappy most people are
8. You want to ‘purge’ your life
9. You begin experiencing deep empathy and compassion
10. You desire to be alone
11. Conversations seem shallow
12. You want to quit your job
13. You thirst for authenticity and truth
14. You become aware of your old negative habits
15. You experience anxiety and/or depression
16. You become more sensitive
17. You want to make the world a better place
18. You deeply want to understand who you are
19. Your intuition is heightened
20. More synchronicity
21. You feel more wonder and curiosity
22. You start to love unconditionally
23. You see that we are all One

I’ll expand on these signs below:

1. You feel as though your life is false

Everything that you have believed, built, and worked towards seems to be false. Your life doesn’t feel as though it’s your own. You no longer feel like yourself – nearly everything you once enjoyed no longer brings you meaning or satisfaction.

2. You craving for meaning and purpose

You deeply desire to find the meaning of your life. You have no idea what your purpose is, but you want to find it desperately. There’s a sense that something is “missing” inside of you (like a part of your soul).

3. You begin asking deep questions

Questions such as “Why am I here?” “What’s the purpose of life?” “What happens after we die?” “Why do people suffer?” arise. You begin thinking more philosophically. Such profound thoughts may greatly disturb you as you don’t know the answers.

4. You realize that a lot of what you’ve been taught is a lie

You start to see how many beliefs, feelings, and values are not actually your own, but other people’s or inherited from your culture. You are growing in self-awareness.

5. You feel completely lost and alone

Nothing in your life seems to make sense anymore. You feel as though you’re wandering through an endless wilderness. As a vagabond, you feel completely alone and cut off from people. You struggle to relate to those you once felt close to (i.e. your friends, work colleagues, and family members).

6. You see through the illusions of society

Materialism, success, and profit no longer mean anything to you. You start feeling as though you’re a cog in the machine of society.

7. You see how unhappy most people are

You awaken to the unhappiness and suffering of others. You may start to explore activism or read more about the human condition. It is tormenting for you to realize how much pain there is in the world.

8. You want to ‘purge’ your life

You’re sick and tired of feeling stranded, depressed, and hopeless. Suddenly, you feel the need to simplify and declutter your life. This could mean cutting ties with toxic people, reassessing your habits, throwing out old things, relocating to a new job or place to live, or even giving away most of what you own.

9. You begin experiencing deep empathy and compassion

As you start paying more attention to the many hardships faced by humanity and nature alike, you develop more compassion. Your inherent empathy is awakened and you may find it hard to cope with the intensity of your feelings. This is a pivotal point in your inner transformation: you either numb the pain you feel with addictions, or you find healthy ways to accept and express your emotions.

10. You desire to be alone

You crave solitude. Whereas once you may have been extroverted, now you experience the introverted side of your nature. You spend a lot of time alone introspecting and enjoying the silence. At every cost, you try to reduce social contact. At this point, you may lose touch with many old friends.

11. Conversations seem shallow

When you do talk to people you feel an acute sense of separation. You realize that very few people are comfortable with talking about passion, emotions, meaning and the soul. In conversations, you feel restless and irritated by the small talk. You silently scream, “Can’t anyone wake up and realize what is happening?” Your distaste for frivolous chit-chat draws you more into solitude. You may become a lone wolf or rebellious free spirit.

12. You want to quit your job

Even though you worked for years getting your degree, establishing your career, and climbing the ranks, you feel nothing but emptiness. Your job no longer provides you the sense of fulfillment that you need. You desperately crave for more.

13. You thirst for authenticity and truth

Being true to yourself becomes top priority. You hate faking and putting on the old masks that you used to wear. You want to be completely authentic. Pretense makes you feel sick and disgusted.

14. You become aware of your old negative habits

You are painfully aware of your flaws and destructive habits. Within you arises a strong urge to wipe the slate clean and start over.

15. You experience anxiety and/or depression

You may go through deep bouts of existential depression or persistent anxiety. The shock of plunging into your awakening leaves you feeling unstable. You may be misdiagnosed with a mental illness. Uncertainty and fear follow you around everywhere.

16. You become more sensitive

Everything impacts you more. You feel the energy of others more strongly, the pain of your loved ones more intensely, and the difficulties in life deeper than ever before. At the same time, you feel a gloriously enhanced connection with animals and nature. You start feeling more at home within the natural world (rather than the manmade world).

17. You want to make the world a better place

When all is said and done, you want to leave the world a better place. You start thinking ‘big picture.’ This longing to make a real impact translates to actively helping others or finding a life purpose that aligns with this desire.

18. You deeply want to understand who you are

Endless questions arise about your identity and your life, for example, “Who am I?” “Why was I born?” “What am I here to do?” “What is the purpose of my existence?” As a result, you begin reading many self-help books and spiritual texts. No wonder you ended up here. 🙂

19. Your intuition is heightened

Gradually you begin to listen to the still, small voice within. You allow it to guide your decisions and you may receive secret messages from your unconscious mind. You may even come in contact with your spirit guides, spirit animal, or other spiritual helpers. Eventually, you start to uncover your hidden spiritual gifts and talents thanks to learning how to trust your intuition.

20. More synchronicity

You start becoming conscious of the many signs and omens that life brings to you. Life becomes much more receptive and interactive with you. Serendipity and déjà vu increase. You may even undergo numerous mystical experiences.

21. You feel more wonder and curiosity

The smallest things start to bring you joy and bliss: a falling leaf, a spider’s web, a child’s laughter, a puddle. Life is no longer ignored – it is seen as magical, amazing and beautiful.

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22. You start to love unconditionally

As the barriers of the ego breakdown, you begin to love other people without expectations or conditions (this includes self-love). You lose interest in drama, conflict, and anything that perpetuates hatred.

23. You see that we are all One

Not only do you intellectually understand that we are all interconnected, but you feel it deeply within your bones. You realize that our thoughts and beliefs influence reality, and that we are all fragments of one great Whole – that is, Spirit. Having fully experienced that we are this Oneness, you find peace at last. Sometimes this stage can take years or even an entire lifetime.

Physical Spiritual Awakening Symptoms

Physical signs obviously differ for everyone. Here are a few symptoms that I have observed within myself and many others who have begun the spiritual awakening process:

• Amplification of sense. For example, your sight, hearing, taste, touch and/or smell becomes intensified. You may even discover that you’re an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person).
• You discover food intolerance’s that you never seemed to have before (or perhaps weren’t paying attention to). E.g. Allergies to wheat, nuts, legumes, soy, spices
• Changed sleeping patterns, i.e. you sleep more or experience more disrupted sleep, often causing insomnia
• Vivid dreams – your dreams become scary, bizarre or intense
• Dizziness – feeling lightheaded as a result of being ungrounded during the day
• Weight change – either gaining or losing a lot of weight
• Changed eating habits – what you once liked eating no longer appeals to you. Also, you may crave to experiment with other foods that you’ve never tried/liked
• Fluctuations in energy – feeling less energized than you used to
• Decreased or increased sex drive
• Decreased immune function (more illness) and eventually increased immune functioning

It is uncommon to experience all of these physical spiritual awakening symptoms at once (one or two is more likely). If you have noticed a rapid change in your health during this period, it might be due to the drastic change in your mind-body-soul connection. If no logical everyday reason can be found (such as prior illness, family stress, injury, relationship meltdown etc.) don’t rule out a more metaphysical explanation.

If you’d like to confirm that you’re going through a spiritual awakening, feel free to take our Spiritual Awakening Test.

3 Spiritual Awakening Myths

There’s a lot of information out there on the internet about spiritual awakening symptoms, what spirtually awakening actually is, and so forth.

As someone who has undergone an awakening process and guided many others on their spiritual journeys, here are some of the top spiritual awakening myths out there:

• Myth 1 – Once you spiritually awaken, you become instantly enlightened. Reality: Enlightenment, for most people, happens gradually in waves. We go through layers and cycles of shedding the past and growing into our ‘new skin.’ In some rare cases, enlightenment (or union with our True Nature) happens just like that. But the awakening process is a slow and steady process of spiritual alchemy for the vast majority of people.
• Myth 2 – Being spiritually awake means always experiencing love, light, and bliss. Reality: Yes, we might go through periods of love, light, and bliss. But these experiences are temporary: they come and go. It’s unrealistic to expect ourselves to only ever experience one kind of state as we are multi-faceted beings. And that’s okay.
• Myth 3 – Only a rare and elite variety of people experience awakening symptoms. Reality: You’d be surprised how many people have gone through spiritual awakenings. It’s not an experience that’s reserved for the ‘elevated,’ rich, or ‘special’ people. It can happen to literally anyone in any circumstance.

Let me know if I’ve missed out any spiritual awakening myths in the comments below!

Spiritual Awakening Q&A

Here are the answers to some commonly asked questions:

Why does spiritual awakening happen?

There are many reasons why the spiritual awakening process happens. Major life changes, tragedies, losses, health crises, marriage, divorces, and other milestones can often trigger a new outlook on life. Whatever the case, spiritual awakenings occur when the soul is ready to undergo a process of transformation – and that occurs at different moments for everyone (if it happens at all).

How long does a spiritual awakening last?

The spiritual awakening process is said to be a lifelong journey – once it begins, it never ends. However, the intensity of awakening varies and often we go through quiet and calm periods, followed by chaotic and intense periods of change. It’s important that we honor this ebb and flow of transformation, seeing it as a vibrant and ever-flowing journey, not a static and one-off destination.

What to do after a spiritual awakening?

After undergoing a spiritual awakening, it’s important that you explore all the different spiritual paths available to you. Go with your heart and instincts, and choose a path that calls to you. It’s also crucial to practice some form of inner work while walking your own path to ensure that you’re evolving, staying grounded, and healing inner wounds that may sabotage your progress.

Why did I have a spiritual awakening?

There are many reasons why you may have had a spiritual awakening. We know that awakenings are triggered by big life changes, breakdowns, breakthroughs, and traumatic situations. But why you had a spiritual awakening is simple: Life decided you were ready to finally wake up.

Spiritual Awakening and Inner Work

Spiritual awakenings mark the beginning of our spiritual paths.

But you might be asking yourself, “What do I do now?”

If you need more spiritual guidance, consider this entire website your personal guide that is available 24/7! We have hundreds of articles that can help you. But where to start? We recommend beginning with something called inner work.

Inner work is the psychological and spiritual practice of diving deep into your inner self for the purposes of self-exploration, self-understanding, spiritual healing, and transformation. It helps to deepen and facilitate your process of spiritual awakening.

We write a lot about how to do inner work on this website. You can find the main resources to help you begin below:

• What is Inner Work?
• How to Love Yourself (Ultimate Beginner’s Guide)
• 25 Signs You Have a Wounded Inner Child (and How to Heal)
• Shadow Work: The Ultimate Guide + Free Psychological Test

There are many other practices that can help you start your inner work, some powerful examples being breathwork and journaling every day. The key is to find what empowers and supports you.

Learn more about how to journal.

Going through an existential crisis brings you closer to your own truth

“Someone who is broken … who has struggled all his or her life with some intense deficiency, may have a uniquely powerful relationship with God.”

The hardest thing about going through an existential crisis is that you feel constantly depressed and alienated.
Nothing makes sense anymore and everything feels meaningless – including all of your old accomplishments, desires, professional attachments, relationships, and goals.
You want to find your real purpose in life. You want to know why the f*ck we’re all here in the first place, but you don’t know where to start.

If you can relate to these feelings, my heart goes out to you. I’ve been there before and it’s a dark place. Worst of all, it can sometimes last for years (like mine did).
As someone who has been through this, I’m not here to bullshit you.
I’m not promising that what I’ll share will help it all become magically better.
But I do hope you find a little bit of solace.
And by the way, did you know that this whole website is dedicated to people who are going through the existential crisis? So stick around and drop in to say hi in the comments.
Table of contents
What is an Existential Crisis? (Definition)
15 Signs You’re Experiencing an Existential Crisis
WHY You’re Going Through an Existential Crisis
Why More and More People Are Experiencing the Existential Crisis
The Existential Crisis Can Be a Good Sign
7 Ways to Get Through the Existential Crisis (and Actually Benefit From it)
When the Existential Crisis Becomes Existential Despair
What is an Existential Crisis? (Definition)
Put simply, an existential crisis is a period in life where a person is at a crossroads and is questioning their entire reality. They may wonder what the meaning of their life is and whether they have a higher purpose. They may wonder whether life itself has meaning or is just a random, chaotic product of chance. And as a result, they may suffer from tremendous anxiety, depression, isolation, and feelings of being lost. The existential crisis is often spiritual in nature and is sometimes a byproduct (or trigger of) the spiritual emergency.
15 Signs You’re Experiencing an Existential Crisis

Are you going through an existential crisis? Pay attention to the following signs:
You’re searching for the meaning of life
You feel alone and isolated
You’re consumed by melancholia/existential depression
You feel like your ‘old life’ has withered away
You don’t know who you are anymore
You feel like your past accomplishments are meaningless (and as a result, you feel lots of regret)
You see through the shallowness of society’s goals and desires
You crave for something deep and meaningful
You realize that the Universe is far more complex than you previously thought
You feel a sense of smallness or powerlessness in the face of everything
You’re acutely aware of your mortality (and feel existential anxiety as a result)
You feel fundamentally different from others
You feel like there’s something innately ‘wrong’ or ‘broken’ about you
You feel empty inside
You can’t seem to find any place that feels like ‘home’
How many of the above signs can you relate to?
When I was going through an existential crisis my entire worldview shattered. I was raised in a fundamentalist Christian background and could no longer come to terms with an ‘all-loving God’ who would send people to burn in hell for eternity. I went through years of confusion, emptiness, anxiety, and depression wondering what the purpose of all this was. It was an extremely difficult, traumatizing, and heart-breaking time. (And yes, thankfully I have pulled through it, hence why I’m writing this article.)

But my story is only one of millions, and there are many reasons why you may be going through a crisis. We’ll explore below …
WHY You’re Going Through an Existential Crisis

Why did all of this happen to you?
There are a number of reasons. Here are the most common that you may have experienced:
Sudden death of a loved one
Job change or loss
Chronic illness of shock diagnosis
Moving to a new place or country
Chronic stress and anxiety
Getting married/divorced
Relationship breakdown
Having a baby
Entering a new life phase (e.g., adulthood, mid-life, old age)
Loss of religious beliefs
Natural disaster (flood, hurricane, fire)
Excessive drug use
Mystical experience
Sudden spiritual awakening and dark night of the soul
Prolonged isolation
Tell me in the comments, which of these causes triggered your existential crisis?
As you can see, the existential crisis is caused by literally any big life event or change – whether positive or negative.
Anything sudden can be destabilizing to your mind. Think of it like an earthquake that sets off a domino effect within your psyche. Before you know it, you have cut off all your friends, quit your job, and have completely withdrawn from society because it all feels too much.
Again, I want to emphasize the fact that this won’t last forever.
It might feel like it and you might believe, in your present frame of mind, that you’re the only person out there who is going through this. But you’re not. And there are people who understand what you’re going through. So please take solace in that and keep reading to get support.
Why More and More People Are Experiencing the Existential Crisis

Yes, you heard it right: the existential crisis is increasing in prevalence.
It’s becoming a global phenomenon.
With record numbers of people experiencing major depression and other symptoms associated with the existential crisis, the question is WHY?
With all our technology, wealth, and material abundance, why are we feeling more and more empty inside?
There are many possible answers, but I believe that the main cause is emotional, philosophical, and spiritual in nature.
We live in a world that worships the reductionistic mechanistic scientific view of life. Anything mysterious, magical, or remotely spiritual in nature is scorned and looked down upon. We pretend we’re ‘above all that childish nonsense’ when in reality it’s what we need the most.
As clinical psychologist and scholar, C. Michael Smith writes,
The world seen only through the lenses of scientific-calculative thinking is a thin, dry, hollow, surface world, devoid of mystery, depth, and meaning. There is an existential nausea (Sartre) that comes with such a nihilistic view of reality. Such a view is itself a symptom of deep spiritual, social, and ecological pathology. Some face this nihilism with stoic courage, others retreat into fundamentalistic and traditional forms of security, where they may have some limited contact with the sacred, while still being touched by the nihilism of the modern scientific worldview. Some seek a genuine sense of the sacred to give their lives meaning and direction, but cannot find it in the institutional religions of the west. Some turn to the numinous resources of the East, some to occult interests; some are now turning to shamanism, others the psychedelics, to rekindle a sense of mystery and meaning characteristic of the sacred.
As a society, we deal with our existential emptiness many ways, but the unifying sobering reality is that we are spiritually destitute. We’ve lost touch with our spiritual nature and are suffering horribly as a result.
I’ll explore how to get back in touch with your spiritual nature (and what worked for me) a little later.
But first, let’s explore why this is not all so doom and gloom …
The Existential Crisis Can Be a Good Sign

I know this sounds totally absurd.
But the fact that you’re experiencing existential anxiety signifies that you’re not a mindless sheep of society.
You are alive goddammit, and more than that, you’re in touch with your spiritual nature.
As spiritual philosopher Krishnamurti once wrote:
It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
The fact that you’re maladjusted, the fact that you’re questioning everything and feel a sense of despair means that you’re getting more in touch with your own truth – not the version of truth that society likes to spoonfeed us.
As author Tim Farrington writes,
Doubt as to whether you are in a dark night or “just depressed” is probably a very good sign; it means you’re alive and paying attention and that life has you baffled, which is the precondition for truth in my experience.
Perhaps more than anyone, the Holocaust survivor and psychotherapist, Viktor Frankl, was acquainted with the depths of existential crisis. He writes in his wonderful book The Doctor of the Soul:
The ‘symptom’ of conscientious anxiety in the melancholiac is not the product of melancholia as a physical illness but represents an ‘accomplishment’ of the human being as a spiritual person.
In other words, feeling existential anxiety is not just the result of depression (or melancholy), it’s actually an accomplishment that signifies we’re in touch with our spiritual nature.
Mirabai Starr, author of numerous spiritual books writes, “Someone who is broken … who has struggled all his or her life with some intense deficiency, may have a uniquely powerful relationship with God.”
And it’s true.
The more you suffer existentially, the closer you are likely to draw to the Divine.
I realize you may be an atheist or simply not interested in spirituality, but perhaps it’s time to reconsider your relationship with the mysterious at the very least. We’ll look more into this below.
7 Ways to Get Through the Existential Crisis (and Actually Benefit From it)

Again, I know “benefiting” from your existential crisis may sound ridiculous.
But hear me out.
The existential crisis is an opportunity for you to find your life purpose, figure out what truly matters in life, and connect with your spiritual nature.
What you’re going through may be horribly painful, but you’re experiencing a death and rebirth. You’re undergoing a mental, emotional, and spiritual renewal process.
Everything in life works in cycles. Think of life like the four seasons. What you’re experiencing right now is the winter stage of existence. But after that comes spring.
Here are some paths/practices you may like to explore. Many of these I have used myself during my existential crisis period – and they helped tremendously:
1. Record (journal) all your thoughts every day
This one was a BIG help for me – and I believe it can be for you too. Writing down all your thoughts and feelings is a good way of getting them out of your mind. The more you let your thoughts accumulate, the more overwhelmed you can feel. So let it all out. Journaling is extremely therapeutic and is recommended by professionals and depressed folks alike constantly.
Learn more about how to journal.
Here’s an example of a journal entry:
I’m feeling horrible today. I watch and listen to people talk about their lives, but it all seems futile. I can’t relate to any of them. Not even a bit. All their plans, goals, and shallow desires – can’t they see that it’s all going to perish one day? Their banality suffocates me and I feel like I’m walking in the land of the dead. Everyone is asleep. Why can’t they just wake the fuck up? Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow, but for now, I just wanted to get these feelings out.
As you can see, your journal entry doesn’t need to be long. It can be a tiny paragraph or even a few words. It also doesn’t need to be wordy, well-written, or poetic. The point is to benefit from it by making a habit out of it.
If you need a little guidance, see our Dark Night of the Soul Journal for inspiration and help.
2. Turn your pain into art
Some of the best art (think Vincent Van Gogh, Edvard Munch, Goya, etc.) has come from those who have suffered tremendously. You don’t need to be good at art (or an “artist”) to benefit from artistic self-expression. The point isn’t to create something that will please others, but something that helps you feel better and process what you’re going through.
If you need ideas, go on Pinterest and look up different art projects. Places to start include watercolor, sketching, collage, and paint pouring. You can also read our art therapy ideas article and see if that interests you.
3. Get in touch with your inner warrior
There’s a reason why we’ve named this website “lonerwolf.” The wolf is symbolic of the inner warrior, the inner force of nature who refuses to give up. S/he is the fire within you that voyages courageously into the unknown, fights for freedom, and respects your true self.
When we go through an existential crisis it can feel like all our power, all our energy, has been drained from us. We may struggle to get up in the morning and keep moving forward. We may feel small and defenseless in the face of life.
The way to move through these feelings is to reconnect with your inner warrior, in whatever way he/she/it appears to you. We like to see this fiery essence as the wolf, but you may see it differently.
To connect with your inner warrior, you may like to turn to your dreams. Before going to bed, ask your unconscious mind to present to you an image of your inner warrior. Then, pay attention to your dreams. Note down anything significant when first rising in the morning. If you struggle with this activity, repeat it for a week.
You may even like to take a herb like mugwort, blue lotus, or a lucid dreaming supplement to make your dreams more vivid (please do your own research regarding dosage requirements and look into the precautions).
An alternative is to practice visualization. Imagine you’re walking down a staircase and at the bottom is a golden door. Once you open that door, you’ll come face-to-face with your inner warrior. What does he/she/it look like? You might like to play some music that puts you in the right frame of mind for this activity (think warrior music which you can find for free on Youtube).
Once you’ve connected with your inner warrior you can work with this inner image in your daily life for strength and guidance. You may like to journal with this inner force, talk with it through visualization, or create a piece of artwork that you put somewhere noticeable and special in your home.
4. Connect with nature
If you struggle to connect with others, go out in nature. Connect with the birds, trees, and plants. Sit and watch what happens around you and find delight in the small things.
Spending time in nature was one of the major ways I got through my existential crisis. I would often spend hours sitting outside observing how the clouds moved through the sky and the way the wind danced through the trees.
If you don’t live near nature, try taking regular trips to your local wildlife reserve, forest, or park. Nature is soothing to the soul and will help you to get out of your head. If you’re interested, I wrote this article on the art of forest bathing (shinrin yoku) a few years ago.
5. Find what brings you joy and meaning
Even the smallest things can bring you joy like a patch of sunlight on the floor or the feeling of cold water against your hands as you wash the dishes.
By practicing mindfulness exercises, you can connect with the present moment more and step out of the cycles of dark thought that accompanying the existential crisis.
Finding the meaning of life is a longer path, but something that can also bring you a sense of purpose. We’ve written more on the topic of finding the meaning of life and you’re more than welcome to go check that out.
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6. Practice self-care and self-love
Take care of yourself. This is a tough time. I know it’s hard, and I know that most days you don’t have the energy for much. But treat yourself with as much love as you can muster. Even opening the window for some fresh air can be seen as a small act of self-love or putting on some warmer socks.
Two forms of self-love and care that you may like to start with are affirmations and gratitude. I know you may feel skeptical toward them, but there’s a reason why they’ve entered the mainstream: they work.
You may like to start a gratitude journal and list five things you’re thankful for each day (being grateful has been scientifically proven to help you feel better). And you may like to find/create one or two affirmations that you carry with you and repeat throughout the day. Examples may include, “I am strong, and I’ll get through this,” “It’s okay to not know all the answers,” “I surrender to the cycles of life,” “I’m feeling better every day.”
7. Simplify and minimize sources of stress
You’re going through enough inner stress as it is, so don’t be afraid to let go of people/responsibilities that cause you more harm than good.
One way of minimizing your stress is by creating a calm and clear mind. Try guided meditations that soothe your mind and body each morning and evening. I love the free app “InsightTimer” for all its variety and I use it on my phone each day. I encourage you to do the same.
8. Connect with others
See if there are any depression support groups around you. Not everyone experiencing depression is going through an existential crisis, but some are. And you can find a sense of kinship there.
Otherwise, there are many groups online (such as on social media) that you can join for support. Alternatively, you can simply browse around this website and see that you’re not alone in your existential difficulties.
You may also wish to call a mental health hotline if you desperately need to talk with someone or go to a website like 7cups that offers free support.
9. Explore spirituality
As psychologist Christa Mackinnon writes:
Studies find correlations between spiritual well-being and positive psychological responses when people are confronted with existential crisis situations. A recent study of 60 lung cancer patients in America, for instance, found that aspects of spirituality, namely meaning in life and prayer, have positive effects on psychological and physical responses, and an in-depth study of 160 terminally ill patients in palliative care came to the conclusion that spiritual well-being provides a sense of peace and offers some protection against end-of-life despair in those for whom death is imminent.
You don’t need to buy into anyone’s bullshit – find what type of spirituality works for you. That might be simply praying or lighting a candle, or it could mean learning how to be a spiritual healer and finding a higher sense of purpose.
I personally enjoy the path of inner work and I incorporate many eclectic practices into my spiritual path like working with the archetypes, spirit guides, practicing meditation and mindfulness, creating sigils, connecting with nature… the list goes on.
Find a path that works for you and let it give you hope.
Read: Soul Searching: 7 Ways to Uncover Your True Path »
When the Existential Crisis Becomes Existential Despair

If you’re experiencing suicidal thoughts or thoughts of harming others, your existential crisis has become existential despair. You need to seek help immediately.
I am not qualified to help (I can only give general advice), so I strongly encourage you to seek out a psychologist, therapist, or counselor who can provide you with ongoing help.
I know this may feel scary and you might feel ridiculous, but it’s worth it. Please do it. Yes, you might be given medication, but that’s a stepping stone toward greater holistic health and understanding in the future.
For a list of international suicide hotlines, go here.
This is a Time of Death and Rebirth
The existential crisis is a time of death – the death of old beliefs, death of old ways of being, and death of old values.

The Spiritual Awakening Process eBook:
Discover profound insights and practices that will help you to access deep levels of love and freedom. Explore soul retrieval, shadow work, and more. Start your Spiritual Awakening journey now!


But after death comes rebirth. Just look at the cycles of nature. What you’re experiencing isn’t going to last forever. After the night comes day, and after winter comes spring.
I hope this article has shown you how valuable this process you’re going through actually is. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not broken. You are not alone.
You are actually saner than most people because you are questioning the insanity of the world around you. You are in the process of getting in touch with your true spiritual nature.
Tell me, are you going through an existential crisis right now? How does it feel for you? Please share below. Let’s help others not feel so alone.

Make it worthwhile

“Every minute someone leaves this world behind.

Age has nothing to do with it.

We are all in “the line” without knowing it.

We never know how many people are before us.

We can not move to the back of the line.

We can not step out of the line.

We can not avoid the line.

So while we wait in line:

Make moments count.

Make priorities.

Make the time.

Make your gifts known.

Make a nobody feel like a somebody.

Make your voice heard.

Make the small things big.

Make someone smile.

Make the change.

Make love.

Make up.

Make peace.

Make sure to tell your people they are loved.

Make sure to have no regrets.

Make sure you are ready…”

for the Lord Miles

What’s a family?

I was talking to a friend who recently separated from his wife, and he mentioned that he feels as if he does not have a complete family. He is sharing custody of their four children with his wife.

I could tell my friend was distraught.

For slightly over two decades, he has been in what, to him, is a complete family. Now, he somewhat feels incomplete. After our conversation, I asked myself, “What’s a complete family?” I felt as if he was getting two realities muddled; a complete family and a two-parent family. To me, what he was bemoaning was the loss of a two-parent family.

Below are some of the deductions I arrived at.

A complete family is one that has love

Love is the glue that holds a family together. If you are co-parenting or raising your kids alone, but your relationship with your children is loving, then you are complete.

The opposite of love is indifference. If you are in a relationship where your partner serves you ample doses of indifference, you have to rethink the dynamics. If you are in a two-parent family that is toxic, then you are in a family that is not just incomplete but is broken to smithereens.

A complete family is one that has trust

Are you turning and tossing in bed, wondering where your partner is? Are you worried about what they are up to? Do you have these lingering fears that your partner may cause you physical harm?

If your answer to any of the above questions is yes, then you’re merely in a two-parent family. That’s not a complete family. Trust is the currency of a loving relationship. If you cannot trust the person you are with, then you’ve been sold a big fat lie.

A complete family is one without abuse

Do not stay in an abusive relationship for whatever reason. Do not stay because you don’t want people to think your marriage failed. And do not stay because you believe that a complete family is a two-parent one.

If you are being abused in any way, and you decide to stay for the sake of your children, or for some other reason, know that yours is an “incomplete” family.

A complete family is one with mutual respect

If you ask men, they will tell you they would rather their partner respect them than love them. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But the way out of his heart is through the one dish he can’t stomach: disrespect. But, in a relationship, respect should be mutual.

Respect does not mean worshipping the other person. It means treating them with utmost dignity at all times. It means recognising and honouring their position in the relationship.

A complete family is one that lets you breath

If you constantly feel suffocated, or you have walked on eggshells when with your partner, then that’s as incomplete as it can get. You should let down your guard and hair when you are with your partner. I know of men who feel free and let down their guard when they are with their children and dogs. To me, that’s a complete family.

A complete family is one that celebrates you

When life beats you to a pulp, a complete family will celebrate you. They will not join in the lynching. If you feel like you are being tolerated, then you are merely a dispensable cog in that two-parent family. The problem with looking for another human to complete you, or your relationship, is that nobody ever will. You came into this world as a complete being. Your partner can only complement you.

As I grow older

As I grow older I’ve given up stress. I write a list of tasks and if it gets done, great. The world keeps spinning if it doesn’t though.

I don’t work much. My kids are all grown. My mortgage is paid off. I only do things I like. So I’ve stopped worrying about money. I’m not wealthy but I’m comfortable.

I don’t drink much. I’m more susceptible to alcohol and I regret that. I used to enjoy a good session with a nice bottle of wine and now a glass or two is my limit.

I used to worry about things. Not so much now. My wife leaving was the worst thing that I could imagine and here I am, still standing. I’m sure I’d panic and run around with my hair on fire if one of my kids or if I got ill, but I don’t worry about it because I know there’s no point unless or until it happens. I don’t worry about money, my wife still loving me, my looks, my weight, my health.

I’ve given up some of the foods I used to love. Salami, cured and processed meats, bread every day. I eat a more plant based diet now. It suits me better and I feel better.

Generally as I’ve aged I’ve fine-tuned my life. In some respects (like loss) I’ve had to adapt to circumstances I didn’t want. But generally I’ve ditched the things that were not serving me well or were not necessary any more.

Just let go

“Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” — Buddha

We spend so much of our life forming attachments to things, people, places, thoughts and emotions that our lives become overburdened with trivial things that really do not matter.

Suffering stems from holding onto that which do not serve us — yet in a strange way, it seems comforting and familiar to hold onto these things for fear they will not be replaced or will be gone from our lives if we let go.

The truth of the matter is, the space will be filled when you make a conscious decision to let go of that which does not serve you.

Letting go of things that do not serve you is as simple as dropping the thoughts, the emotion or circumstance that takes up residency within you.

There is another way of looking at it, much like the toys you used to play with when you were a child. As an adult they no longer serve you the same way as they did when you are a child.

You might even call many of the attachments that you had toward certain aspects of your early life, which also have dropped away to make way for new things.

“When you are unattached, you have inner freedom. You have no investment in a particular outcome, and so you do what is necessary in the moment. You explore every option and are receptive to all new information. You do all that you know to do, and then trust, because you have no attachment to either the result or how the result is produced,” writes Charlene Belitz and Meg Lundstrom in The Power of Flow: Practical Ways to Transform Your Life with Meaningful Coincidence.

Life offers you the same lifeline by encouraging you to let go of anything which is taxing you mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually.

Take an inventory of your current circumstances and investigate those areas which cause you to be unhappy and unfulfilled.

They might be toxic or draining relationships. Invariably these relationships drain you and provide no personal growth for either party. Yet, we find evidence to substantiate the relationship in our life. These may include innumerable reasons, when at the essence of it all, we continue to suffer within.

Reflect on those relationships that draw energy away from you and leave you feeling empty and uninspired.

How will you know these relationships exist in your life?

One sure way is to look to your physiology and note how you feel on the occasions you meet with these people. Is there a sense of being unfulfilled that arises when you meet with such people?

Rather than immediately severing your ties with such people, you might slowly distance yourself from them by not accepting invitations to social gatherings.

Slowly over time you will find yourself in a happier place by attracting those people whom you wish to spend your time with. You must also become that, which you wish to attract. If you desire to have more love, honest and trustworthy connections in your life, then it stands to reason you must also become the embodiment of those qualities and values yourself.

Start Small and Create The Right Intentions

“No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.” ― Haruki Murakami

Friendships and connections can only be formed by like-minded individuals who vibrate on the same frequency. It does not matter that you have different personalities or interests. What matters is that you have the same outlook on life and value the integrity of close and fulfilling connections.

As you begin to pursue fulfilling and sustainable relationships, you will notice that you align yourself with things that really matter. You will become aware of things that are important as you allow room and space for them in your life.

You will be naturally drawn and inclined toward such circumstances since they provide you with a sense of joy, peace and fulfillment.

It is it similar to when you undertake a health and fitness regime where you no longer eat toxic foods, instead gravitating towards nutritious and healthy food choices. You might also undertake physical exercise during this period and become aware of how well you feel as you progress along your journey.

Letting go of things which do not serve you also brings you the same sense of satisfaction. You will notice the inner reward that comes to you when you are doing things which bring you happiness and joy, that you will no longer attract toxic or negative situations.

Jan Frazier states in The Freedom of Being: At Ease with What Is: “The idea is to not have to let go, later, of what has become a burden, but rather to not hold on in the first place. Not holding on doesn’t mean being at a forced distance from what’s happening, but being fully with it.”

This is also the case with your Health and Well-being program — your mind and body become attuned to higher states of wellness and they no longer require destructive or toxic habits to provide the same sense of fulfillment that they once did.

Resist the urge to obsess about insignificant circumstances, things or events which no longer serve you. The best way to step into your power and reclaim your sense of entitlement within the framework of the cosmos is to start small.

Make decisions which are within your comfort zone at first and watch the process unfold. The beauty of this is that as you begin to see evidence of life coming to your aid, you will naturally develop your belief muscle and in no time you will be making bigger decisions that are in harmony with your deepest desires.

An example of starting small might include creating an intention to let go of personal belongings that no longer serve you. A good place to start may be any personal belongings you have not used in the last three to six months.

Make a personal statement to yourself and the universe that you will be guided toward passing on these items to people or charities that are in need of these donations. Make a silent declaration to yourself and to the universe for guidance on how and when these items should be released.

Naturally, as you make this declaration the creative universal intelligence will guide you toward the right people that are in need of your items. You may feel a sudden impulse toward giving your items to a certain charity or alternatively an ad may appear in your letterbox advertising for second-hand items.

Whatever way the universe decides is best to re-purpose your belongings will be made known to you at the right time, when and if your intentions are correctly aligned with the gift of giving.

Infinite Possibilities

“Time doesn’t heal emotional pain, you need to learn how to let go.” ― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

The universe operates in mysterious ways that are unbeknownst to our mortal minds. We tend to think in linear patterns and in doing so, disallow a great deal of the mystery and synchronicities to eventuate.

The universe specializes in the unknown and operates on a multidimensional level. This means that circumstances and events will transpire, not according to your own timeframe.

Be open and receptive to the unknown by creating a space in your life for these occurrences. Besides, who wants to live a boring and dull life?

I often hear people talking about how boring and mundane their lives have become as all they seem to be doing is carrying out the same tasks from day to day. Many of these same people, when prompted do not believe in mysteries and synchronicities and so miss out on the infinite possibilities that are available to them at the moment they relinquish and surrender the notion of how life should unfold.

When you live life from this perspective, you begin to see each situation as a mystery and with synchronicity. Rather than becoming attached to your own agenda, that governs the timing of how things should play out in your life; you come from a place of allowing which is seeded in infinite possibilities.

Life does not know what it will become until it reveals itself.

There are a number of possibilities for events and circumstances to unfold and they can only do so once we detach both mentally and emotionally from the situation. Instead, if you surrender control by allowing yourself to be grateful for whatever shows up in your life, you will find joy, peace and fulfillment in everything that you co-create with universal energy.

“The less you hold, the more your hands are open to what’s here, unexpected, transformative. In every moment is the possibility for a new discovery, a radical undoing,” explains Jan Frazier.

The challenge for many people is learning to detach from this essence of how life should unfold. Many find it challenging and almost impossible to believe that something greater than us actually knows what is best for you.

This limited way of thinking prevents you from mastering the real lessons of life, one of which is detachment.

Detachment does not mean apathy, in fact quite the opposite. Detachment implies that we handover the process of life to a greater force that knows best on how to attend to our needs and wants.

We stand in a place of firm understanding and knowledge that everything we truly want and need will be delivered to us once we surrender control and allow our egoic nature to stand idle.

Here are my guilty pleasures. Now,judge me!

1. Ordering food for delivery. It’s a Thursday night and the idea of spending an hour making dinner with the leftover groceries in my fridge is a nightmare. While I’ve already ordered take-out once this week, I finally give in and pull up the list of local restaurants delivering.Despite the hefty delivery fees, I order the food and leave a 20% tip. It’s a situation that’s all too familiar when a delicious meal is only a few clicks away. Many people consider it their most costly guilty pleasure.
2. Procrastinating. It always feels better to get my work done before it’s due. Yet, I procrastinate the days away and leave the bulk of their work until the last minute. Even though it results in some pre-due-date panic, procrastinating is still one of my most common guilty pleasures .
3. Binge-watching reality shows. It’s tough to describe the allure of reality shows.A bunch of strangers cooped up in a house together for two months being watched by the spying eye of cameras, a low-budget docu-series that captures the drunken misadventures of twenty-somethings, a test of endurance that drops contestants on a remote island and provides the person who stays the longest with a cash prize.There’s something about these somewhat laughable concepts with regular people that’s just wildly entertaining. That’s probably why it’s a popular guilty pleasure of mine.
4. Eating a half-gallon of ice cream. Ice cream has the healing powers to cure all types of sadness, but sometimes I can take this remedy to the extreme. Indulging in a bunch of ice cream is my shameful delight.
5. Snooping through people’s social media. It feels a little devious to turn over the stones of a person’s social media activity, especially if you’ve gone down the rabbit hole of who knows who only to end up on your ex-girlfriend’s cousin’s mom’s page. I might feel a little uneasy about partaking in social media snooping, but I continue to do it nonetheless. While making sure that I don’t accidentally like a photo from 2013 on their nosy endeavors.
6. Sleeping in late. While there’s an anxiety that comes with sleeping the whole day away, there’s also a bit of pleasure to it as well. On weekends, sick days, and holidays it’s practically a requirement to spend most of my morning in bed.
7. Scrolling on Tik Tok. The latest in addictive social media networking services is that of Tik Tok. The easy-to-use interface and targeted algorithm have made it a popular app among many different types of people. While I can spend hours scrolling on Tik Tok, I’m notproud of this feat.
8. Watching my favorite children’s movies as an adult. Although children’s movies are made for that particular demographic, sometimes these films end up being even more popular with the adults who watched them in their formative years.While many people can enjoy a good run of Peter Pan or The Lion King well into their adulthood, it’s still considered a guilty pleasure among most of these people.
9. Watching sappy romantic films. In the same vein as children’s movies are sappy romantic films. These types of movies either make tears well up in viewers or initiate a powerful eye roll.No matter the reaction that these rom-com movies inspire, I continue to watch these films over and over again even I’m slightly embarrassed to admit it.
10. Listening to a catchy song on repeat. Sometimes a catchy song just grabs hold of my soul and compels me to play it over and over again until I’ve memorized every beat. While listening to an enjoyable song on repeat can feel good at the moment, it’s not a behavior that I’m keen to share with others.
11. A glass of wine on a weeknight after work. After a long and draining shift at work, I go home and succumb to a popular guilty pleasure – a glass of wine. But, whether it’s a wine or a beer, there’s a twinge of penitence that comes along with taking a few satisfying sips on a weeknight.
12. Reading the latest celebrity drama. It might not be the most inspiring form of media, but I can’t help indulging in a little celebrity drama. There’s a relaxing element to reading about how a reality television star got into a heated argument on Twitter or how a fan-favorite podcast got cancelled due to a whirlwind of dramatic events.I use the guilty pleasure of celebrity drama as a distraction from my own life, and it works as a necessary escape.
13. Belting tunes in my car on the way to work. The drive to the office can feel like a drag when you’ve got eight hours of work ahead of you. One way of handling this reality is by belting your favorite tunes on the way to work. This coping mechanism is a guilty pleasure that I’m happy to partake in.
14. Taking selfies. The age of selfies has turned lots of people into walking versions of Narcissus staring at their reflection in the pools of their phone screen. While it’s recognizably a little self-absorbed to take a million selfies on end, it’s sort of satisfying as well.
15. Conspiracy videos on YouTube. There is an endless stream of rabbit holes to get lost in on the internet. One of my most popular and entertaining of those is conspiracy videos on YouTube.Depending on your content preference, there are conspiracies about every nook and cranny of the seemingly clear world, from mattress stores to Spongebob Squarepants. I find it easy to spend hours watching outlandish theories, but not quite as simple to explain these hobbies to my loved ones.
16. Eating pancake dough batter. We’ve all been warned against it since we were little kids, and yet, I continue to sneak a taste. Despite the risks, eating raw cookie dough batter is still one of my tastiest guilty pleasures.
17. Spending all Saturday at home in pajamas. It can feel like you’re giving in to laziness when you spend all day at home on Saturday in your pajamas, but it gives you the chance to recharge your battery.While I may be reluctant to admit that I had a relaxing weekend at home instead of catching up on errands or going out, it’s actually one of the healthiest guilty pleasures I can have. As long as it’s practiced with the self-discipline to drag yourself out of bed and get together with friends sometimes too.
18. Overpriced coffee in the morning. While it’s constantly preached that the secret path to wealth is avoiding frivolous purchases like overpriced beverages in the morning, I continue to give in to this temptation. No matter the cost, lots of coffee-drinkers are unwilling to compromise when it comes to their caffeine.
19. Greasy fast food. Another food guilty pleasure that plagues me is eating fast food. These products are often greasy and borderline gross, but I continue to purchase millions of burgers and fries per year. It’s a guilty pleasure that’s given way to the billion-dollar fast food industry.
20. An impromptu shopping spree. Even when the bank account’s funds are low, I fall prey to the clutches of a good impromptu shopping spree. It may not help fix stressful situations in my life, but it sure can provide momentary relief. That could be the reason why I rely on this guilty, yet gratifying, activity.
21. Gossiping with friends. The bigger person never speaks about other people to gossip, but sometimes that’s a risk I’m willing to take when it comes to getting satisfaction from a guilty pleasure.Giggling with friends over mindless gossip isn’t something that I’m proud of, but it’s an entertaining task that is sometimes exactly what I need.

Whatever

Assertive indifference is a new expression that was first used in the field of relationships. However, little by little, the concept has started to be used in other fields, and has proved to be a useful way of managing different situations.

Assertive indifference is a type of behavior that purposely blocks any type of external reaction, in any given situation. You act as if it doesn’t matter to you and doesn’t affect you in any way. It is a type of simulated behavior, because the purpose is to not reveal to the other person what you are really feeling.

“Wherever people feel safe (…), they will feel indifference.”

-Susan Sontag-

When people use assertive indifference what they are trying to do is not expose their real emotions to the other person. In principle it might seem like a pretense or a bit of manipulation. However, it is actually quite the opposite. The idea is to avoid showing weaknesses, so that others won’t manipulate you when there is a type of power game going on. That is why we have added the word “assertive” to this type of indifference.

Assertive indifference in your love life

Our love lives can sometimes be like a rose garden, but at other times it can feel like a battlefield too. There are often power games being played out in them. We’re not only talking about the male chauvinism that can be found all over the world. The woman too also uses her power in many situations.

In a relationship the partners often try and sound each other out. One, or both, of them wants to see how much influence he has over the other. This happens especially at the beginning of the relationship. It also happens when the relationship ends, and things are still up in the air, and one of the two wants to see what the chances are of trying again.

It’s like a kind of emotional arm wrestling, and in these cases, assertive indifference can be a good option. You pretend that you don’t feel anything for the other person, either to stop your ex-partner from manipulating you, or to prevent a relationship you finished from starting again. It is not a deception as such, but is rather a tactic to achieve a higher good.

Assertive indifference and conflicting links

Assertive indifference is also an appropriate response when we have constant conflicts with certain people. One example would be with a work partner that you are always having disagreements with, which always ends up leaving a bad taste in your mouth. You already know that they’re never going to change. For some reason, that person always seems to seek conflicts with you.

If you can see that dialogue is impossible, the best option that remains to you is assertive indifference. It means you not giving in to provocations, ignoring offensive comments and, ultimately, cutting yourself off from them. The objective is not to offer any sort of answer to what they are saying to you, things that only end up worsening the whole situation.

Over time, assertive indifference becomes a valid way of defusing the other person’s objectionable behavior. When they see that they are getting nowhere in the ridiculous game they are playing then, sooner or later, they’ll give up that type of behavior.

A tool to overcome situations

Assertive indifference can also be applied in our day-to-day conflicts. Differences with other people are just part of life. Most of the time such differences are really insignificant. However, sometimes they give rise to more serious confrontations. In one way or another, we constantly have to decide whether we take things further or not.

Part of assertiveness is to decide what situations we should take further. This assertiveness is exactly what allows you to defend your rights effectively. To put a stop to mental abuse. But to do it effectively you have to learn to distinguish when your rights are at risk and when they are not.

Not every conflictive situation needs us to react to it. We can also simply “let go”, and that is an important part of assertive indifference. It means that we have to judge what reaction on our part will bring greater benefits, and fewer negative consequences. Responding to the aggression of a drunk person, for example, is only valid if it really endangers something that is fundamentally good.

Assertive indifference, then, is a tool which can help us manage different conflictive situations, but in an intelligent way. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to do nothing. In fact, the option of doing nothing, when appropriate, is exactly what this whole concept aims at.

Indifference

I’ve noticed that someone has been waiting for me for a long time. That someone is me. It’s time to give myself the opportunity to smile and stop chasing after anyone who does not want to be reached and only shows indifference.

They say the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. They say this kills the affection, that you shouldn’t be lazy with what you love, that indifference is the worst punishment, and that it is a real blunder to neglect what we love.

It is not good to run after someone who already knows where you are. It wears you down, it consumes you, destroys you, harms you, it hurts…But we cannot allow lack of interest to torment us. We are worth much more than we think.

They say there is no lack of time, there is a lack of interest, because when people really want something they find the time.

The person who wants you will come looking for you

Do not sacrifice yourself for those who do not do it for you, you’ll just receive indifference in return. Someone  who really loves you will not make requests that may cause pain or disadvantage in your life.

Stop insisting and banging on the doors that don’t want to open for you. Affection cannot stand indifference. They will be at odds for all of eternity with no possibility of reconciliation.

Love is not something to be begged for. So that’s why we have to work our dignity, resurface and stop expecting miracles for affection to happen.

Love is never wasted

“My mother used to say that love is never wasted, even if it is not returned to you to the same extent you deserve or want.

Let it go, he said. Open your heart and do not be afraid of it being broken. Hearts that are protected end up turning to stone.”

“The Heartbreak Cafe” – Penelope Stokes.

This means that even if we have bad experiences, even if we feel we’ve been taken advantage of, that they haven’t been able to love us back or that selfishness has prevailed in those around us, we must not give up.

This means that anytime, anywhere we can find reciprocity and cultivate healthy relationships. Giving love always makes sense, it is not something we share and then lose.

What happens is that giving a lot and receiving little is tiring. So the key is to not put all our hopes and expectations in one emotion, because it cannot be matched and, therefore, our life is turned upside down.

What must come will come at some point or another, but not as a payment for our actions, rather as a natural situation in life.

The absence of reciprocity and gratitude

There are relationships and friendships that are doomed to failure because of the total lack of gratitude and reciprocity. This is simple: to maintain a lively feeling you have to work at it, pay attention and give it time.

However, we must be careful not to overwhelm ourselves with requirements. Do we really need our partner to engage us every second of our time and in every thought? If so, then we will have to review our emotional state, work on our needs and get rid of certain desires and emotional ideas that compromise our feelings.

“To love one must take on an inside job that is only made possible by loneliness.”

– Alejandro Jodorowsky –

Ignore those who do not value you

To be happy we must learn to ignore those who punish us with indifference and make us question our personal and social worth. So we must consider how to create emotional distance, how to search for oxygen and count to three when we see them.

Each of us has different ways of escaping to take in some psychological air and thus greet their emotions, their sensitivity, their self-respect and their self-esteem.

For this we need to reflect, remove the indifference of the person who expressed little interest in our feelings and makes us feel slighted. By doing this we are better able to surround ourselves with people who make us feel that the world is a good place.

That’s the only way we can liberate ourselves from all that imprisons us, and we can give the green light to life and allow it to surprise us without hurting us. So do not expect anything from anyone, expect everything of yourself, and the rest will come when you least expect it.

Western Media’s Mono-eyed View of Qatar World Cup

The 2022 World Cup in Qatar has been the focus of unprecedented debate since the Arab state won its hosting bid in 2010. While many international sporting events have fuelled moral discussions over the human rights records of the host countries – such as the controversy over China’s suppression of Uyghurs in Xinjiang ahead of the Olympics in Beijing this year – none have been as viciously attacked as Qatar.

This debate is brimming with hypocrisy, Orientalism and Eurocentrism. The main criticisms centre on Qatar’s treatment of foreign workers, particularly those employed to build World Cup projects. The country has spent an estimated $220bn on building stadiums, roads and other infrastructure to support the international tournament, and was aiming to prepare 130,000 hotel rooms.

Why must all countries schedule their most significant international sporting events according to Europe’s holidays?

Foreign workers in the construction and hospitality sectors in all Gulf states, including Qatar, suffer from poor working conditions, long hours and low wages, but safety measures for large infrastructure projects are relatively good. In addition, Qatar and other Gulf states have reformed the kafala sponsorship system, which previously restricted workers from changing jobs without the permission of their employers. Qatar also recently introduced a minimum wage. 

While these changes in labour laws are positive, they don’t go far enough, and western media have rightly condemned the poor working conditions for foreign labourers ahead of the World Cup. But the reporting on this issue has been rife with hypocrisy. 

Indeed, many of the biggest construction firms that have worked on World Cup projects, along with many hotels and residences, are western-based. Westerners in these industries also earn higher salaries in Qatar. These facts, however, are rarely addressed by western critics of Qatar’s human rights record.

‘Desert World Cup’

Western ex-pats are among the biggest beneficiaries of the unfair and unjust wage distribution in Gulf states, including Qatar, but this issue has not gained traction in western coverage. They are often offered attractive compensation packages, including relocation and accommodation expenses, along with tax-free salaries.

Western hypocrisy is also evident, as British journalist Piers Morgan has pointed out, in the behaviour of media corporations. While condemning Qatar’s human rights record and labour conditions for foreign workers in relation to the World Cup, these same companies have sent their staff to enjoy the affordable luxuries made possible by these very workers.

Criticisms over the Qatar World Cup have tended to feature a mix of white supremacy and Orientalism. Some have dubbed it a “desert World Cup”. In covering the debate over the tournament, the BBC used another tired trope, asserting that it was “blighted by a dust-storm of controversy”. The Daily Star, meanwhile, published an “exclusive” article headlined: “Grunting camels outside England’s Qatar HQ leave team facing sleepless nights”.

Such coverage relies on a stereotypical, Orientalist picture of those who live in the Arab world, conveying an inaccurate impression to western readers. While Qatar might have been a small desert nation before it gained independence from British colonialism in the 1970s, it is now a bustling country with outstanding infrastructure, beaches, buildings and human development. And for the record: I lived in the Gulf for close to a decade, and never once saw a camel. 

Global game

Eurocentrism is another factor in the debate over the Qatar World Cup. In the Netflix series FIFA Uncovered, one commentator questioned how European fans would be able to reach Qatar. This a valid question, but why isn’t this asked about Middle Eastern, African and South American fans when the World Cup is hosted in Europe – which it has been close to a dozen times.

Western media coverage also focused on the soaring summer heat in Qatar, which is why the tournament was ultimately scheduled for November and December. According to the Daily Mail, this decision “robbed us of a summer of football”. But why must all countries schedule their most significant international sporting events according to Europe’s holidays? There is no answer, except, Eurocentrism.

World Cup 2022: What’s behind the sustained condemnation of Qatar?

Read More »

A French reporter was asked about his first impression of Qatar, and he replied that it had “lots of mosques”. Such comments reinforce the notion of westerners feeling discomfort outside of the traditional European environment. But why shouldn’t other countries be able to host the World Cup and showcase their own cultures and traditions? 

Yes, Europe has a strong football tradition and has won more World Cups than any other continent. But football is a global game and its biggest tournament should showcase various countries, regions and continents.

The 2022 World Cup offers an opportunity to address human rights issues in Qatar and other Arab states. At the same time, it provides a chance to highlight hypocrisy, Orientalism and Eurocentrism in western media coverage. The World Cup should be a celebration and an opportunity to improve the sport in all countries, across all continents. 

Wait for me to come home

Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes
But it’s the only thing that I know
When it gets hard, you know it can get hard sometimes
It is the only thing makes us feel alive

We keep this love in a photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts are never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me closer ’til our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone, wait for me to come home

Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul
And it’s the only thing that I know, know
I swear it will get easier
Remember that with every piece of ya
Hmm, and it’s the only thing we take with us when we die

Hmm, we keep this love in a photograph
We made these memories for ourselves
Where our eyes are never closing
Hearts were never broken
And time’s forever frozen, still

So you can keep me
Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans
Holding me closer ’til our eyes meet
You won’t ever be alone

And if you hurt me
That’s okay, baby, only words bleed
Inside these pages, you just hold me
And I won’t ever let you go
Wait for me to come home
Wait for me to come home
Wait for me to come home
Wait for me to come home

Oh, you can fit me
Inside the necklace you got when you were sixteen
Next to your heartbeat where I should be
Keep it deep within your soul

And if you hurt me
Well, that’s okay, baby, only words bleed
Inside these pages, you just hold me
And I won’t ever let you go

When I’m away, I will remember how you kissed me
Under the lamppost back on Sixth street
Hearing you whisper through the phone
“Wait for me to come home”

I found a love for me

I found a love, for me
Darling, just drive right in and follow my lead
Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet
Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowing what it was
I will not give you up this time
But darling, just kiss me slow
Your heart is all I own
And in your eyes, you’re holding mine

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favourite song
When you said you looked a mess
I whispered underneath my breath
But you heard it
Darling, you look perfect tonight

Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home
I found a lover, to carry more than just my secrets
To carry love, to carry children of our own

We were still kids, but we’re so in love
Fighting against all odds
I know we’ll be alright this time
Darling, just hold my hand
Be my girl, I’ll be your man
I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favorite song
When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful
I don’t deserve this
Darling, you look perfect tonight

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark
With you between my arms
Barefoot on the grass
Listening to our favorite song
I have faith in what I see
Now I know I have met an angel in person
And she looks perfect

I don’t deserve this

I can’t believe you are mine

Just the way
You look perfect tonight

Spoilt for Choice

A month ago, I did something weird. One day I woke up being fed up with how I can’t control my eating habits, I decided not to eat for 3 days. A complete 72 hours without any kind of food. Only water. I wanted to test my willpower.

This was the first time I decided to do such thing. First day, it was okay. I was hungry but not too hungry. Second day, I had trouble sleeping because of how hungry I was, but I managed to get through it. Third day, I swear I wanted to eat anything. Literally anything. I wanted to eat my pillow. But what shocked me the most was that I was craving food that I supposedly hate. Food that I couldn’t stand the smell of, suddenly I was craving it immensely. I was flabbergasted.

It was expected that my survival instinct would kick in and I would want to eat anything, but I expected to crave food that I already love not food that I absolutely hate!

This made me realize that I didn’t hate this food because I categorically hate it. I just had better options. My mind knows that I have other options, so I hate it compared to other food that I’d rather eat.

Now getting back to the main question…

We can all see that divorce rates are increasing, and you can probably guess why. We’re now not limited to our own town, city or country. With the power of social media, you have access to the most beautiful women. With a quick search you can find the most successful people in the world.

Suddenly you have access to people who are more beautiful and successful than your partner. Suddenly you have options. And when you have options, you get confused. Think of that burger chain which only has 1 or 2 types of burgers and the other which has a lot. It’s always easier to dine in the one with the least number of options as you don’t suffer the pain of missed opportunity.

I believe this is the most contributing factor for love fading nowadays. When your partner makes a mistake, you don’t put it in the “We need to work on this” bucket, rather you put in the “That’s one more reason I could leave you for someone better” bucket. Once our mind knows that there are options, we get confused. And once we get confused, we confuse ordinary conflicts with reasons to break up. We don’t put effort into relationships as much as our parents and grandparents did. I believe it was because in their mind they didn’t have many options rather than work things out, and they did (most of them).

Of course, there are other reasons for love to fade but I believe this is the biggest one. And a close second would be disrespect.

I am an eagle. A man reborn

The sky was a cloudless blue, no birds gliding in the sun. A perfect day for a boy to die. 

First, the gas explosion. He was 14, just a boy. A gas leak at the neighbour’s house that they had gone to investigate. He was standing behind his neighbour who had discovered that the leak was coming from the servants’ quarters. This was almost 29 years ago, November 25th, 1993, on Wanyee road just off Ngong Road. The sky was a cloudless blue, no birds gliding in the sun. A perfect day for a boy to die. 

How he recalls the explosion; there was a whoosh sound, like air being sucked and the void being replaced with something else, something dense and overwhelming, like being blown by an elephant’s trunk. This was way before he felt the heat, way before some of that heat found its way into his lungs and his body. This was when adrenaline was doing what adrenaline was supposed to do in such situations. In hindsight, the explosion itself was actually quite unremarkable, non-dramatic even. He recalls turning around and seeing the neighbour’s daughter who was behind him, burnt in patches of red and black, screaming her head out. Outside, a small crowd had gathered and they looked at him like they had seen a ghost. This compelled him to look down at his arms, this is when it dawned on him that something terrible had happened to him because his skin was torn from his arm, revealing raw flesh, strips of skin hanging from his arms.

He recalls bits and bobs of the journey to the hospital, because he kept losing consciousness; perhaps there was the howling of a siren, maybe honking of cars, there could have been agitated voices, fragments of strange voices speaking in urgent terms. There might have been moments where he came to recall being laid on a casualty stretcher, the stinging cold of its steel, him screaming because now the pain was like someone tearing at his skin from his body…bright lights overhead, masked faces peering down at him, the sound of instruments against kidney dishes, doctors, lots and lots of doctors. 

He recalls waking up briefly and seeing his mom; hysterical, completely out of her mind. Blackness. Mostly he associated consciousness with pain. Oh the unimaginable pain. The type the Bible might mean when it talks about gnashing of teeth. He stayed slightly over a month in hospital, just lying there smelling his own charred skin falling off his body. They injected all manner of drugs in him to keep him sedated and to fight off bacteria, beating down his defences. 

All this while he’d not even seen his face. This one time he was scheduled to have a saline bath, which is when they lower you into a saline solution in order to peel off old skin. “I asked the nurse if I could look at myself in the mirror,” Aaron Rimbui says. “She hesitated. She obviously didn’t think it was a great idea. But she allowed me eventually. I looked at my face for the first time after the accident and I couldn’t recognise the face that stared back at me. My face had been disfigured, it had also swollen twice its size.” He stood there, numb, staring at the man in the mirror. 

Then came the long journey of specialists and reconstructive surgeries. The keloids, big bumpy lumps, sprouted on his face, his ears and neck. His face sometimes looked like it was boiling. He went under the knife a few times, skin grafting; they peeled skin off his thighs to patch areas of his face and hands. 

“I’m 43 but my skin is 29 years old.” He chuckles. 

We are seated in a sort of a popular upscale Nigerian restaurant called – without irony – Lagos Restaurant and Lounge on 49th street. This is where Aaron holds court on most Sundays, nursing his drink of pineapple juice or eating their Suya burger.  He’s taller than he looks seated at the piano on TV, rushing towards ceilings and chandeliers at 6 ‘3’’. It’s Fall so he’s in a brown blazer over a polo shirt and hightop Nikes, looking like an inner city villain, albeit a villain who drinks pineapple juice which could be the worst sort of villainy because pineapple is a tropical fruit for happiness and sunshine.

Being a teenager wasn’t easy with a medium-rare to well-done face. (Too soon?)  It’s hard enough dealing with pimples, now imagine going to high school with a burnt face. Nairobi School was gracious enough to allow him to be a day scholar while he sought treatment and therapy. He harboured great insecurity. “I thought how I looked defined how the world saw me. I felt like nobody would ever see me as Aaron.”

He drifted towards church, Nairobi Baptist Church. “My dad had earlier bought me drums, a 4-piece drum set which I’d mess around with. I loved playing the drums, then in Nairobi School, I picked up the piano and I liked it. I had an ear for tunes. There was something about the piano that he didn’t find in drums. There is something about the sounds from the keys, how they seemed to linger in him longer than any sound from any instrument. The piano seemed to know the pain he was going through, the loneliness of being a teenager with a burnt face and the nightmares that he would have at night. Nightmares of him running while burning, engulfed in flames. Or massive, furious balls of fire coming at him. Things blowing up. Burnt faces that resembled his. When he sat at a piano it soothed him like a lover who knows your language without speaking a word. 

“Only problem was that my fingers had been badly burnt so I couldn’t move them very well.” He held up his slightly darkened hands. “The weird thing is that when I started doing physiotherapy my therapist said, look, I need you to be exercising these fingers frequently to bring back the functions of the tendons. I told him that I actually played the piano and he suddenly snapped his fingers excitedly and said, that’s it! Keep playing the piano, it will help with the healing of your mobility!”

So he started playing the piano not only because he loved it but also to heal. 

I gasped. OK, I didn’t gasp, I sort of sat straighter in my chair and remarked in a Eureka fashion, at the unique trajectory of his story. I mean, I said, it’s because of the gas explosion and the fire that led you here as a musician. One had to happen for the other to happen and the other couldn’t happen if the other didn’t happen. The fire turned out to be a blessing. “It’s like a great irony, isn’t it?” I said. 

“Yes,” he said, lifting the fried eggs from his burger with his fork and placing them on a side plate. I stared at the poor egg, rejected and cast aside by the virtuoso. “You could say that the fire accident led to the piano. Sometimes bad things have to happen to you for your purpose to become clear. Of course at that time of happening you don’t understand or appreciate it. You are bitter and you are angry and you ask yourself why me? Why does it have to be me who burns?”

Of course we all know his ascent to fame as producer and performer, working with Eric Wainaina, Kanji, Kijiji records, worship team member at Nairobi Chapel, Mavuno, Youth For Christ USA tour, Four winds band, two albums out, Safaricom Jazz Festival, Tusker project fame, Winter Jazz festival Copenhagen, concerts in SA and tours in Europe, production of commercials and involvement in political campaign, Tinga Tinga Tales, capital jazz club, Sauti Sol, just many balls tossed in the air. His piano led him by his hand into rooms where he was recognised and adulated. “Fame is like this big wave that you need to know when to ride and when to get off. Because it can take you anywhere.” 

Through all this he met a girl in church and married her. Years rolled by but no baby came along. “I can tell you something about infertility and about how it reflects on you and it impacts on you as a person.” He says. “We tried everything and we kept trying and trying but we just couldn’t get a baby. You want something so badly but it doesn’t happen for you and at some point you say, well, this is not for me, I have accepted this fate, I surrender. We tried for close to 10 years and then suddenly one day my wife fell pregnant.” 

In 2016 while playing at a gig in SA it dawned on him that he had gotten off the rails. He was crashing with a friend or a relative, I don’t remember which one, and he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth while seated in the toilet seat, which is not a normal thing to do; sit on the toilet while brushing your teeth. He felt heavy and burdened. “I was doing something that I loved doing, playing shows but increasingly I was feeling a great sense of loss, of emptiness.” He stopped brushing his teeth and with his toothbrush stuck in his mouth, he realised that the feeling was actually sadness. “I was unhappy,” He said. “Being an artist in Kenya is difficult and often thankless. We don’t appreciate artists and artists work hard, man. I was working hard, taking on shows and things, sometimes paying for my flight abroad so that I could perform. Being an artist often felt like you constantly had to start from scratch. It didn’t matter that you had done shows that people knew of, you have been on TV, people know your work and your name, but you still have to do a dance for corporates. You still have to prove yourself over and over again. That collective cynicism does something to you. I had been filing away things for years, my burn accident that although I had been to therapy I still had a lot that I hadn’t dealt with. Then the general industry abuse, maybe abuse isn’t the right word, but just the feeling of having to constantly do more and more to be recognised as a professional but not process how that made you feel. These things were piling around my life, around me and in SA, I finally crashed. Not soon after I was diagnosed with clinical depression.”

He had reached the ceiling of his career. “You also get to a point in your art where you feel there is nothing else to do. That there is nothing more to move to. It makes you question your journey and your fate.” He decided he would try it out in the US. And where would you take your talent that is both inspirational and scary, something that would challenge your artistry? New York. “It’s where all the creatives go to make it. I felt like I needed to test my art once again.” He applied for a Green Card which would end up taking a few more years, years that his depression also ate at him. “I put so much importance on going to the US that the thought of not moving filled me with dread and anxiety.”

Papers came through and they moved to the US as a family but shortly after the pandemic hit and he was rendered gigless. “Not long after, my marriage that I guess had been chipping away slowly, disintegrated and ended. I had to move out from our home in New Jersey, leaving behind a daughter I love. I can’t tell you what that did to me or how hard this period was, staying with friends, not knowing if things would ever get back to normal and I’d play again. The sense of failure and fear was immense.” He chews on his burger. “Divorce is like two sellotapes that were together suddenly being ripped apart and essentially when that happens each sellotape leaves with a part of the other. I remember standing at a store, choosing a mattress…a mattress! That’s how my life had flipped on me.”

The lounge is playing Nigerian music. Inside the lounge might as well be midnight with its purple moody lighting, but outside in the loud, screeching streets of New York, it’s 2pm. It’s full of West Africans eating and talking and girls in skimpy clodhez, lacy black things, gyrating and taking selfies. 

I ask him about divorce and the opinion of the church seeing as he is born again. “People who knew us were pretty shocked, understandably. But I can’t control what people think or say. I don’t live for people. I think when your marriage doesn’t work, there is an unspoken feeling of failure on your part. That there was something that you could have done better. But you learn that you can’t hide from judgement. You take it and you find a way to move on. It isn’t easy, of course, in fact sometimes it feels near impossible. I was 41 when my marriage ended and sometimes it comes to a point where you all have to accept that you believe in different things, that you are on different journeys and that God is sovereign and there might be no immediate answers to questions; questions like, why want a baby for so long and then when I finally get a daughter, things collapse? But each time I have gone through a difficult time in my life, what I suffered in that gas explosion gives me context, because I always say, “If I survived that, surely I should be able to survive anything.”

He’s rebuilding now. He has his music, his piano, to help him through this journey. He just finished a tour of the US by Tiwa Savage. He teaches music to public schools in the Brooklyn area. He’s busy. “I’m starting to like being alone, I’m working on myself. I’m trying to figure myself out even now. I’m enjoying the silence now. I have chosen myself. You have to choose yourself before you are chosen.”

“What would the Aaron of Nairobi tell the Aaron of New York?” I asked him. 

He chuckled at that and gave it a long thought. A very long thought while the music filled our table and the cutlery on it. “I would tell him that you can plan but sometimes you don’t have control. Things will change but you have to be aware that things might go in a different direction, you can’t be in charge of all outcomes. I have been trying to protect myself from the pain of the fire and all other pains that have visited me in my life, but maybe I should be more attuned to the pain of others, to live daily and be mindful of others.”

He considers that answer a bit. I asked him about marriage, what he has learnt. “If you notice subtle things, don’t ignore them. Be more assertive with what you want regarding how you feel about things and your needs.”

We pay and step outside in the noisy streets of New York with all the sirens and feet and cameras hungry to document experiences. He has long graceful  strides, his long hands hang loose by his side. He crosses streets purposefully, with the same attitude and confidence of a pimp going to set a record straight.  

“So who are you now?” I asked him, “are you able to answer that question?”

“I’m Aaron, I’m a father and a guy figuring out life.” He says, stopping at a light. Monstrous American cars zoom past. “My mission is to give people hope and music is what gives hope. I’m a man. A dude. I have emotions and feelings as a human being and not just one who plays the keyboard. I’m a living organism.” He’s walking again. “ I’m in the business of healing. The colour of my life now is violet. I’m an artist, but it’s not who I am. What I do comes from who I am.” He turns to make sure that I’m getting this distinction. I tell him I really love that. I really really love that. ‘It speaks to me,” I tell him. 

“You know the rebirth story of the eagle?” He casts a sideway glance. The reflection of the man in his sunglasses nods. That man is me. “For the eagle to reach its lifespan of 70 years it must make some hard decisions. In its 40th year its long talons can no longer grab prey for food. Its beak is bent and its wings are heavy due to its thick feathers. It makes it hard for it to fly. It can die or change, but the change lasts for 150 days. If it chooses to live it flies to a mountain top where it knocks its beak against a rock until it breaks it, then it waits for a new beak to grow. When it grows it pulls out its talons and when new talons grow it starts plucking old feathers. This process is self brutalising and painful but the eagle has to do it to live longer. After five months the eagle is reborn and can live for 30 more years. This story means that sometimes we need to get rid of old memories, habits in order to survive.” That sideways glance again, only this time it’s laced with a faded sly smile, “ I’m an eagle. A man reborn”

The most obnoxious truth that I have ever learned

Image: Actor Anthony Hopkins

Get rid of people who are not ready to walk with you in your life’s journey .-Anthony Hopkins

This is the hardest thing you will ever have to do in your life and it will also be the most important thing.

Stop having difficult conversations with people who don’t want to listen to you.

Stop showing up for people who have no interest in your presence.

I know your instinct is to do everything you can to gain the appreciation of those around you, but it’s an impulse that steals your time, energy, mental and physical health.

When you choose to live a life of freedom, interest and commitment to your core values, not everyone will be ready to follow you on that journey.

That doesn’t mean you have to change who you are, it means you have to let go of people who aren’t ready to be with you.

If you feel excluded, insulted, forgotten or ignored by the people you give your time to, you are not doing yourself a favor by continuing to offer them your energy and your life.

Truth is, you’re not going to be popular with everyone and not everyone deserves to be in your life.

Makes it special by finding people who match with your core values.

You will know that you have found something precious because you’ve experienced a garbage form of relationship that always made you feel unappreciated.

There are billions of people on this planet and you will soon find those who match with your aspirations and values.

Those that you have got rid of only served to waste your energy and time by sucking out the juice out of your life.

Maybe when you stopped showing up, they didn’t look for you.

Maybe when you stopped trying, the relationship ended.

Maybe when you stopped texting, your phone stayed dark for weeks.

That doesn’t mean you ruined the relationship, it means that the only thing that was holding it together was the energy that only you, gave to keep it.

That’s not love, that’s manipulation.

It’s giving a chance to those who don’t deserve it!

You deserve so much more.

The most valuable thing you have in your life is your time and energy as both are limited.

The people and things you give your time and energy to, will define your existence.

When you realize this you start to understand why you’re so anxious when you spend time with people, activities or spaces that don’t suit you and shouldn’t be near you.

You’ll start to realize that the most important thing you can do for yourself and everyone around you, is to protect your energy more fiercely than anything else.

Make your life a safe haven, in which only people “compatible” with you are invited.

You are not responsible for saving anyone from their own misguided pride.

It’s not your responsibility to convince them to respect and love you.

It’s not your job to exist for people and give them your life!

You deserve real friendships, true commitments, and complete love with healthy, mentally balanced people.

Deciding to distance yourself from harmful people, will give you the love, esteem, happiness and protection you deserve.

Time has brought you closer to me

The day we met,

frozen in my breath,

right from the start,

I knew that I’d found a home for my heart’

Heart beats fast with all
Colors and promises
How to be brave?
How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?

But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away
Somehow
One step closer

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything take her away

What’s standing in front of me
Every breath
Every hour has come to this
One step closer
I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart close to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

One step closer
One step closer

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart close to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more

Because it matters to you….

Maybe there is something you need to say that’s bothering you

Or somewhere you need to go

Or someone that you are afraid to tell that you love

Or a dream that you are afraid to follow

Or something in your past that you can’t let go

I hear you my friend

I feel your pain

I feel your fear

But guess what?

You will have to gather your courage and do it

Because it matters to you

Give it a chance

And be ready to realise that

You are bigger and better

Than the sum total of all your fears

Just go for it

Coming to age of the rule of law in Kenya

Africa Renaissance News

Kenya has had mixed outcomes in as far as the rule of law and its nascent democracy are concerned.

Since its independence in 1963,Kenya has held its general elections every five years without fail even during the trying periods when it was a ‘one party’ state. This does not mean that the elections were democratic,or the rule of law was followed to achieve the free outcomes of the said elections.

In other words, some of the past elections were just a charade used to perpetuate autocratic regimes and hoodwink both the electorate and the international community that Kenya is a democratic society.

This charade was especially perfected during the period between 1982 and 1992 when Kenya was declared as a single party state. During this period, elections were actually selections by the ruling party which dictated the favoured candidates be imposed on the voters irrespective of their democratic choices …

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Africa cannot afford to take sides in Russia/Ukraine War

Africa Renaissance News

To be a poor man is hard, but to be a poor race in a land of dollars is the very bottom of hardships.

W. E. B. Du Bois

Most countries in Africa are barely six decades old since their independence from their former colonial masters. They at most time depend on these former masters for trade, aid, defence equipment, technology and Foreign Direct Investment to run their governments.

In this mix of different players, there are other sovereign nations that were not involved in the colonization game, or were even themselves under colonization that have emerged to be big players in the big picture of world geopolitics, and have become important players as development partners in Africa especially in terms of trade, aid and infrastructure development which was stymied by the former colonialists.

Countries such as Japan, China, and Russia ,though holding different ideologies have partnered with Africa to…

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Walk away from the mess in your life

We often pin the word “weakness” to our minds when we think about what it means to give up on a relationship. We fear that we weren’t strong enough, or wise enough, or sane enough to make it work. We worry that we left wrongfully, or that we should have stayed for the comfortable familiarity, even if it wasn’t working for us. But weakness, despite what our doubts tell us, isn’t giving up. Weakness is staying in a relationship you don’t want to be in because the uncertainty that you’d face is too much to bear. Weakness is allowing yourself to be manipulated by someone who is using you to quell their own insecurities and issues. Weakness is not being able to rise and run to the life you really want to live because you haven’t yet told yourself that you can. There is nothing about walking away from something or someone, about walking into the unknown, that is weak.

Walking away—even when you’re unsure, even when you really want someone, even when it feels like it all but will kill you—is the most incredible thing you can do. It is, in fact, one of the bravest things you can do, and means you’re a decidedly strong person. Here are three very good reasons why.

You care more about what’s best for you long-term than what feels safe and familiar in the short term

Too often, people think that walking away from something—a relationship, a job, a toxic friendship—means that you weren’t ever that committed to it in the first place. They think that if you really loved something, you would stick with it. This, of course, is total nonsense, probably uttered by someone who has never loved anything, and likely doesn’t respect themselves very much either. Usually the people who first walk away are the ones who are the most attached. Despite this, they choose a better life for themselves, even if they aren’t sure of what that “better life” would consist of right away. They have an instinctive knowledge that there’s something better for them, and they follow that knowledge, despite it being quiet compared to the loud voices they’ve been conditioned to follow prior.

You’re able to accept that things aren’t going to work out the way you wanted them to

I don’t think there are things that require more strength than the humbling, quiet, simple realization that, after holding onto an idea for all this time and putting in so much work to make something functional, that you simple aren’t going to get the result you want. Being able to accept when something does not work requires infinitely more maturity and strength than sticking around and trying fruitlessly to make something work that never will. That’s what children do; that’s what weak, frightened people do. Being able to face that, despite your best efforts, it’s time to walk away takes tremendous fortitude. The emotional threshold required to accept that the person you once thought was your forever will gradually become someone you only used to know is profoundly deep, one most people can’t even skim the surface of.

You know when to walk away before things get worse

You’re able to evaluate the future with enough objectivity to realize that you’re headed down an unpromising path, at best, and a completely destructive one at worst. Getting out before things crash and burn is not “giving up”—it’s removing yourself from the line of fire. It’s what it means to be astute. It’s knowing what it means to value your safety and happiness above anything else. Few people change, or walk away from something they care about, before they have no choice but to do so. The strongest people don’t want until something hits rock bottom to try climbing a different path. The strongest people know how to listen to the Universe’s whispers before they become screams.

Memento mori

I am exactly sixty years old today.

I am over the moon to see this day and grateful to God for having granted me the chance to live this long.

I am really thrilled. Who knew I could live this long!

On the other hand, I am a practising stoic and fully aware that there is another side to this beautiful story: I am now living in what you could call old age. The thing is, I could drop dead any minute for no good reason other than that I have lived long enough to die. And I am grateful for that.

A Stoic wants to live well—​and living well means dying well, too. A Stoic lives well through having a good character, and death is the final test of it. While every death will be a bit different, the Roman Stoics believed that a good death would be characterized by mental tranquility, a lack of complaining, and gratitude for the life we’ve been given. In other words, as the final act of living, a good death is characterized by acceptance and gratitude. Also, having a real philosophy of life, and having worked on developing a sound character, allows a person to die without any feelings of regret. The Stoic philosopher Epictetus told his students that when you kiss your child goodnight, you should remind yourself that your child could die tomorrow.

Seneca frequently thought and wrote about death. Some of this must have been due to his poor health. Because he suffered from tuberculosis and asthma from a young age, he must have sensed the certainty and nearness of his own death throughout his entire life. In Letter 54 he describes, in graphic detail, a recent asthma attack that nearly killed him. But much earlier, probably in his twenties, he was so sick, and so near death, that he thought about ending his own life, to finally stop the suffering. He didn’t follow through on that, fortunately, out of love for his father. As he writes,

I often felt the urge to end my life, but the old age of my dear father held me back. For while I thought that I could die bravely, I knew he could not bear the loss bravely. And so I commanded myself to live. Sometimes it’s an act of courage just to keep living.

For a Stoic (and for other ancient philosophers, too), memento mori—​contemplating our inevitable death—​was an essential philosophical exercise, and one that comes with unexpected benefits. As an anticipation of future adversity, memento mori allows us to prepare for death, and helps remove our fears of death. It also encourages us to take our current lives more seriously, because we realize they’re limited. As I’ve discovered in a practical sense, reflecting on my own death—​and the inevitable death of those dear to me—​has had a totally unexpected and powerful benefit: feeling a more profound sense of gratitude for the time we still have together.

*

The Latin phrase memento mori literally means “remember that you have to die.” Over the centuries, scholars often would keep a symbolic memento mori image in their study, like a skull, as a reminder of their own mortality.

In the world of philosophy, the model of someone dying well, without an ounce of fear, was Socrates. Imprisoned on trumped-​up charges for corrupting the youth of Athens, Socrates was detained for thirty days before facing his death sentence of drinking hemlock poison. At the time of his death in 399 BC, Socrates was around seventy years old. If he had wished, he could have very easily escaped prison, with his friends’ help, and then set up life elsewhere in Greece. But it would have gone against everything he believed in. Also, escaping would have permanently damaged his reputation. Since one of Socrates’s main goals was to improve society, that implied he should follow society’s laws, even if he had been treated unjustly.

This allowed Socrates thirty final days to meet with his friends and his students to continue their philosophical discussions. He had challenged the morality of those who called for his death with a very memorable line: “If you kill me,” he said, “you will not harm me so much as yourselves.”  This thought was much appreciated by the later Stoics, since, in their view, nothing can harm the character of a wise person. During his last meeting with his students, right before his death, Socrates discussed and questioned the possibility of an afterlife. He also said, memorably, that “philosophy is a preparation for death,” which was probably the real beginning of the memento mori tradition (at least for philosophers). When his final conversation was complete, Socrates drank the hemlock, and he peacefully passed away, surrounded by his students.

According to Seneca, the philosopher Epicurus said, “Rehearse for death,” which is a practice Seneca himself greatly encouraged. For Seneca and the other Roman Stoics, death was “the master fear,” and once someone learns how to overcome it, little else remains fearful either.If you don’t remember that your time is limited and finite, you are much more likely to take things for granted.

The Stoic philosopher Epictetus told his students that when you kiss your child goodnight, you should remind yourself that your child could die tomorrow. While it is literally true that your child could die tomorrow, many modern readers recoil at the idea of even contemplating such a thought. However, that might be a measure of their reluctance to accept the inevitability of death, or a way of repressing the fact that death can arrive unexpectedly, at any moment. As someone who personally uses this practice, I can tell you that it’s perfectly harmless, once you get past any initial discomfort. The huge benefit it brings is the greater sense of gratitude you experience with your loved ones. When you perform this practice, you consciously realize that someday, which nobody can predict, will be your last time together—​so you experience much greater gratitude for the time you spend together now. As Seneca wisely recommended, let us greedily enjoy our friends and our loved ones now, while we still have them.

*

What is it like emotionally to contemplate your own death or the death of a close family member? I’ve been experimenting with this for some time now and can report only positive results. That’s because, when I think of the mortality of a loved one and the fact that all of our time together is by definition limited, it improves the quality of my life. It makes me feel a much deeper sense of appreciation for all the time we are together. If you don’t remember that your time is limited and finite, you are much more likely to take things for granted.

I most often remember death when I’m with my stepson, Benjamin, seven and a half as I write. That’s a delightful age because he’s very playful and now capable of having fun conversations. We’re also starting to talk about philosophical things.

Of course, it’s impossible for most children of his age to grasp the gravity or finality of death, because most of them have never had any firsthand experience of losing a loved one. Children live in a kind of psychological Golden Age, in which all their needs seem magically provided for. Since they live in a protected sphere, most haven’t yet been exposed to the more challenging aspects of life.

Because of that, I’ve been trying to teach Benjamin a little bit about death and the fact that daddy, mommy, and he will someday die. This effort is a bit of basic Stoic training for a kid, and I’m curious if it might be possible to increase his appreciation for the limited time we have together, even at such a young age? At the very least, I hope it will greatly reduce the level of shock he experiences when someone close to him does die, because he’ll be expecting it.

The other day, we were driving home after feasting on some fast food, and Benjamin spoke to me about God for the first time in his life. With a boyish sense of delight, he explained to me, “God has some amazing powers, like being able to see and hear everything. But his greatest superpower is that he’s invisible!”

I chuckled at his use of the word “superpower,” which made God sound like a superhero, just like Spider-​Man! But laughter aside, he had opened up the doorway to speak about some profound issues, so I brought up the topic of death.

“Benjamin,” I asked, “do you know that, someday, mommy, daddy, and you are going to die?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“I’m almost sixty,” I explained, “so I could live another twenty years.”

“I don’t think you’ll live quite that long,” he said. “But maybe something like that.” (Thank you, Benjamin! We’ll just have to see how things go.)

Then I asked, “Did you know that you could die at any time?”

He said, “I don’t think I’ll die anytime soon.”

“But,” I replied, “you could. This is not something in our control. You are young, so you could live for a very long time. But since we’re driving in a car, we could be in a car crash five minutes from now, and we could both be killed instantly. So even if you’re very, very young, you can die at any time. If you stay healthy, the chances that you’ll live a long life go up. But in the end, when we die is not under our control.”

Benjamin nodded and seemed to understand. And fortunately, we arrived home safely a few minutes later.

Take two

If I could live again my life,
In the next – I’ll try,

• to make more mistakes,
  I won’t try to be so perfect,
  I’ll be more relaxed,
  I’ll be more full – than I am now,
  In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously,
  I’ll be less hygienic,
  I’ll take more risks,
  I’ll take more trips,
  I’ll watch more sunsets,
  I’ll climb more mountains,
  I’ll swim more rivers,
  I’ll go to more places – I’ve never been,
  I’ll eat more ice creams and less lima beans,
  I’ll have more real problems – and less imaginary ones,
  I was one of those people who live
  prudent and prolific lives –
  each minute of his life,
  Of course that I had moments of joy – but,
  if I could go back I’ll try to have only good moments,

If you don’t know – that’s what life is made of,
Don’t lose the now!

I was one of those who never goes anywhere
without a thermometer,
without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umbrella and without a parachute,

If I could live again – I will travel light,
If I could live again – I’ll try to work bare feet
at the beginning of spring till the end of autumn,
I’ll ride more carts,
I’ll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live – but now I am 85,

• and I know that I am dying …”

Life is just a random game

“Take someone who doesn’t keep score,
who’s not looking to be richer, or afraid of losing,
who has not the slightest interest even
in his own personality: he’s free.”
― Rumi Jalalu

Life is just a random game.

There is no need to take matters personally.

All the time, everyone is going through something.

Some people are having it worse than others,

but believe me; no one will be left behind.

If you are not going through something right now, yours is on the way.

And unless you have done something to deserve it, you need not worry.

That’s how life goes.

You are not alone in this.

Don’t give up on the game yet.

Keep playing.

For jackpot or for total ruin.

You just cannot afford to be out of this game.

Free your future from past

There are many temptations to organize our life around the experience of earlier trauma. But that may shortchange the future—which starts by our envisioning something better for ourselves.

The reason is evolutionary. If a tiger attacked you in the forest, you’d do better, survival-wise, not to forget about it, lest you venture again into the forest unprepared. In addition, our brain has evolved to seek order in the environment—to make sense of things—because we’re less vulnerable if we understand what’s going on. Adverse events disrupt the existing order, introducing an element of chaos and senselessness. Our brain is compelled to return to the site of the trauma to try to “solve the case,” piece together the narrative, and restore order to the world.

Little wonder, then, that people find moving on from past adversity difficult. Or that therapists often seek to help clients deal with current troubles by relating them back to early distress. Attributing current difficulties to past trauma restores order to the narrative, providing a reassuring clarity.

Yet organizing a self-story around past trauma carries risks. For one, such a story may be factually inaccurate. The path from early experience to adult outcome is neither direct nor clear. (If early adversity led you to a habit of drinking, are your current problems caused by early adversity or by drinking?) Specific early experiences cannot readily explain specific current behaviors, and those who experience similar early circumstances are unlikely to share similar symptom profiles in adulthood. Additionally, traumatic experiences happen in context, and the contexts in which they occur are bound to include other risk factors, making it difficult to ascertain the traumatic event’s unique contribution to later outcome.

Moreover, the notion that current troubles are caused by past trauma creates a market for finding trauma in one’s past. We thus risk assigning the trauma label to any upsetting, angering, challenging, or disappointing experience. Stretching the trauma label to cover generic life challenges or trivial negative events amounts to a form of emotional grade inflation, diluting the meaning of the term. If everyone has been traumatized, then the construct of trauma loses its utility in describing meaningful variations in lived experience.

In addition, focusing on trauma in appraising our (or others’) life amounts to framing existence in terms of its brokenness. There’s brokenness to every life. Yet making trauma someone’s defining feature reduces them to their injury. That’s spiritually deflating, psychologically unhelpful, and factually inaccurate. Human beings are more than the sum of their hurts.

Ironically, a trauma-centered narrative itself may make moving on from trauma difficult. Attaching one’s identity to past trauma provides relief by anchoring our sense of self in a coherent narrative amidst the storm of existence. Yet, once the story of “my trauma” becomes the story of “me,” moving on from it may feel like self-negation.

Therefore, moving on from past adversity often requires a shift in how we perceive ourselves. Specifically, we may benefit from shifting our self-focus to our strengths and assets. This is not an act of denial or an excursion into “positive thinking” but a useful and fair correction.

First, the default position for human beings is resilience, not fragility. Our odds of overcoming adversity are generally greater than our odds of succumbing. Second, framing identity in terms of our strengths is psychologically empowering. At the job interview, you talk about your strengths first because anchoring your narrative in your strengths improves the odds that you will be perceived, and
treated, as strong by others. The same is true for self-perception. Finally, as research has demonstrated, acknowledging and building our strengths improves our ability to deal with our areas of weakness; focusing on mental health assets tends to improve mental health outcomes.

In addition, moving on from past adversity often requires us to change how we perceive the adversity itself. The experience of trauma is subjective. What overwhelms one person may not bother another, and what society may commonly construe as an adverse event may not be inherently or uniformly so.

Research shows that our subjective perceptions of events, rather than the events themselves, tend to account for the experience of trauma. As Seth Pollak and Karen Smith note in Perspectives on Psychological Science: “Variability in individuals’ perceptions of events is most likely to account for how adversity ‘gets under the skin,’ affecting long-term neural and behavioral outcomes.”

How you perceive what happened influences how what happened affects you. This is good news because while you can’t change what happened, you can change how you perceive it.

A useful first move is to let go of the misperception—a common feature of trauma-centered narratives—that what caused a problem to emerge in the past is what keeps it going in the present. You may have learned to distrust people because of your troubled childhood
relationship with your unstable parents. Yet your mistrust of people in the present is not maintained by your relationship with your parents.

In general, current difficulties that may have had their origin in past adversity are most commonly maintained in the present by the habit of avoidance, research finds. What’s holding you back now is not your past adversity but the avoidance habits enacted to cope with its aftermath. Such habits, unlike the past experience itself, can be changed. The way forward from trauma is by confronting in the present what your past had taught you to avoid.

Finally, dealing with traumatic memories often means tangling with negative emotions. The blizzard of negative emotions, to paraphrase Leonard Cohen, can overwhelm the order of the soul. Managing emotions, however, is a skill that can be mastered. Generally, it involves a three-step process.

First, we must recognize that emotions are always part of our experience, never the whole of it. Your emotions are yours, but they are not you, in the same way that waves are not the ocean.

Second, we need to learn to accept our emotions. Acceptance does not denote agreement or liking. Rather, it is a stance of attentive curiosity. To wit: Listening attentively to someone does not require us to judge them or agree with what they’re saying. Emotional acceptance is listening attentively to oneself.

Third, we need to realize that the information conveyed by our emotions is often distorted or incomplete. The fact that you feel bad does not mean that you are bad or that your situation is bad. Thus, we should not blindly obey our emotions. Rather, we may learn to consult other available sources of data—our capacity for reason, worldly experience, meaningful goals, personal values—and arrive at a considered decision, rather than an emotionally driven one, about the course of action to take.

Moving forward from past adversity does not happen on its own. It requires intentional and persistent effort. It takes a balanced approach that acknowledges difficult past events and circumstances without sanctifying them as the pillars of identity and directs us to acquire the mental health skills needed to appraise accurately, deal successfully with—and ultimately transcend—the legacy of a troubled past.

To Heal Is to FEEL

Negative events are a fact of life. Because they register powerfully, they have an uncanny ability to overtake our mental machinery. My career as a LIFECOACH has been devoted to understanding the ways that facing pain without knowing how to feel leads people to logical, reasonable—and pathological—practices that our judgmental minds readily recommend but that keep us stuck in the past. I learned some things the way everyone else does.

My Dad was an exploder narcissist who used alcohol to keep the lid on, which only made the inevitable explosions more violent and frightening. In early elementary school, I vividly remember watching my Dad ripping the screeching pink-and-cream two-tone station wagon out of our driveway in an angry rage and seeing my brother tumble out of the opened tailgate onto the street. I was scared, horrified. But that wasn’t said—I would not have known how. Dominant as they were in our house, emotions were barely mentioned at all.

My Mom was an emotional suppressor whose very pores oozed a sense of dark dread. Even at age 8, I knew it was not rational to talk constantly of germs and to wash your hands until they bled. That made sense only recently when I learned from a relative that my grandmother had committed suicide and my Mom unfairly took the blame. She could not help me then with frightening feelings—she was desperately staying away from her own. I knew that my parents loved me, but in a home wet with anger and dark secrets, I also learned that emotions were … dangerous.

No wonder I had my first panic attack two decades later as a young academic watching a group of professors fight in a way only wild animals and full professors are capable of. Years of emotional rage and neglect had taught my nervous system that emotions were dangerous. But what does one then do with pain?

In my long career as a lifecoach studying human nature and the causes of human suffering, I have been struck by the ways people inadvertently impede their own healing. Here are 10 suggestions for alleviating the pain of trauma past.

Don’t Deny Your Pain
When you cut yourself, your body will try to heal—whether you acknowledge your body or not. Psychological wounds are different. You cannot begin psychological healing until you acknowledge and describe your pain—because self-invalidation cuts even deeper. Life will not give you a pass just because you were taught and internalized “Boys don’t cry” or “Wear your big-girl pants.” You can heal only if you feel, and learning how starts with acknowledgement.

Show Up
When you are hurting, you may want to curl up in a blanket on your couch. Although that’s great for a Sunday afternoon, it’s not a way to live your life. While you close yourself off from the world, life continues without you. When you excessively avoid what is painful, you also avoid what is rich and meaningful.

Observe Your Emotions
Eyes closed, jaws clenched, “powering through” can itself be further traumatizing. Even if you do what is important, you still reinforce that it’s unsafe (or you wouldn’t resist it). Instead, slow down and breathe. Carefully notice your body. Observe and describe—more like watching a sunset or listening to a crying child than doing a math problem. Give your emotions a name. Let your mind and body know that it’s safe for you to see what hasn’t been seen, to feel what hasn’t been felt, and to voice what hasn’t been said.

Move Toward Yourself, Not Away from Pain
Distraction is a two-edged sword. The problem is not the traction, it’s the dis that states, “It’s not OK to be me!” Stop dissing yourself! Find the traction to move toward. Take that hot bath or listen to that cool music because you love it and deserve self-care. Don’t do it as a diss.

Let Pain Be a Guide
Your mind may suggest that you wallow in pain forever—for specialness or to prove how unfair it all is. Don’t take the bait. Pain is not a badge of honor—it’s how we learn what’s important and what needs care and attention. Use pain as a goad and guide. Let it help you get unstuck, then work to correct what is unfair.

Don’t Cling to Feeling “Good”
When we feel good, we may want it to last forever. The instant we cling to these feelings, they begin to fade. Like a bird sitting on your shoulder, the moment you try to grab it, it flies away. Enjoy good feelings while they last but let them go in their own time. Fixed emotions cannot teach.

Show Yourself Some Kindness and Compassion
Minds can be unkind. Seeing the struggle, you start asking, What is wrong with me? and Why is this so hard? You invite yourself into a spiral of judgment and self-blame. When you’re feeling down, don’t add more weight—extend yourself a helping hand. Show yourself kindness when you feel as though you least deserve it.

Take the Time It Takes to Heal
You did what all the articles have told you, but you are still hooked. Don’t rush along! The goal is to gradually learn to let emotions play the proper role in your life. “Healing” means “whole” and learning to be whole cannot be rushed. It needs time and patience. Dare to give that to yourself.

Find Purpose
We are willing to take on pain if it’s safe and has a real purpose. In the gym you exercise safely but vigorously, knowing muscle aches are part of creating strength and flexibility. Same here. Follow the steps above and your body and unconscious programming will get the safety message. But the purpose? That’s up to you. To help yourself heal, it is crucial that you see, choose, and embrace your purpose. Without purpose, pain is a meaningless struggle.

Reach Out
Children of emotional neglect believe they need to heal on their own. The nonsense of “don’t burden others” deprives us of the comfort of friends and the exchange of wise guidance. We are the social primates, meant to travel together. Whether it be your family, friends, a therapist, or even an online group, dare to reach out for support and use what you learn to help and support others.

Pain often comes from outside, unbidden. Neglectful mistakes are learned things we do, but that means they can be changed! The work comes from within. Acknowledge your pain, recognize your mind’s needless defenses, and learn how to use feelings to foster a free life full of purpose, love, and meaning. Done in the right way, feeling is healing.

Creating a New You

A vision of something better underlies the transformation from victim to survivor. 

Bad things sometimes happen to people through no fault of their own. Then what? As Yogi Berra famously said, “When you get to the fork in the road, take it.” There tend to be three types of reaction to adversity. Some people get stuck, paralyzed psychologically. Others act in desperation, seizing on any opportunity to feel safe, although their desperate acts can lead to further problems and victimization. And some people manage to grow in the wake of adversity and trauma, building new lives.

Which path a person winds up on is not a matter of luck. Whatever hand you’ve been dealt, you have a responsibility to make a choice: Move on or wait to be rescued. Believing that your past predicts your future can keep you stuck in it, not even trying for better things ahead. But research reveals that the past is actually a very poor predictor of the future.

There are four concrete steps for creating a new you and a new future.

It starts with a belief. As one survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse told me, “Finding a way to imagine a better life for oneself is the first step in making it happen. Believe you are destined for something better.” Without a vision for the future, there can be no desire for it. Admittedly, having a vision takes courage; we try to protect ourselves against the disappointment of failure. Start with a belief and don’t be shy about expressing it: “I’m destined for something better.”

Next, harness the power of belief by converting it into action. Self-fulfilling prophecy bridges the gap between belief and action. A prediction, whether in thoughts or words, directly or indirectly, causes itself to become true. If you can’t realize your vision, you wind up talking yourself out of the desire.

How does expectation become action? If you think you will fail at something, you are likely to attempt the task with minimal effort, enthusiasm, and tenacity. You are more willing to accept initial rejection or failure. Or worse, you are likely to not attempt to be successful at all.

But if you think you will succeed at something, you are likely to attempt the task with effort, enthusiasm, and tenacity. You are less willing to accept initial rejection or failure, more likely to see setbacks as precursors to the inevitable success! Tenacity helps you reframe setbacks as opportunities to get stronger.

Believing is not enough. You must also act on your belief. Once you choose to act, act tenaciously. “Language is the formative organ of thought,” Wilhelm von Humboldt declared. Thought usually precedes action. Change your language from that of loss to that of growth. Eliminate “I can’t” and “Yes, but” from your vocabulary.

The language of equivocation leads to hesitancy and insecurity, the language of assertiveness to extraordinary effort. When you find yourself using the words or thoughts of negativity, stop and find more constructive words. You may stumble. You may fall. But keep moving.

Taking the first step—even a small one, overcomes inertia. That essentially eliminates the most difficult of hurdles.

Finally, remember that the single best predictor of resilience and growth is a connection to others. Recruit help moving forward. Relentlessly seek someone who has your back and will pick you up whenever you fall. Mentors and coaches help people believe in themselves and supply information that can support your transformation from victim to survivor.

Observe those who possess the qualities you wish to possess. Learn from them. Seek their guidance. See successful others not through the lens of jealousy but as models: “If they can do it, so can I.”

If you want to change your life, you must begin with a belief and harness the power of prophecy. But never forget, the purpose of prophecy is not to predict the future—it’s to create the future.

This is home

My Kenya is about its incredible people, the sights, sounds, music, smells and tastes. The stuff you only find here and nowhere else.

My Kenya is about a new democracy still struggling to find its feet and its voice. The heroes of the past and the activists of the present. The builders, not the breakers.

My Kenya is abundantly rich under the soil and above it. In minerals, in resources, in spaces and places, in fertile land. In people. The stuff the world wants and that we have.

My Kenya is about kindness, warmth, ubuntu. Generous people. Creative people. People who want crime to stop and to move from hope into a better reality. The ever-patient parents who just want their kids to be safe. Who themselves want to be safe.

My Kenya is the music of Sauti sol and more. Much more. The clicks, the clacks, the rhythm, the minstrels, the drums and our unique beat.

Sauti Sol

The sounds you only really hear here. That come from here. That tell our story.

My Kenya is about Ugali. This is our home. This is our food.

Ugali

My Kenya is about heroes. Our fate-defying athletic heroes on the field and off the field .

Kenyan athletes

My Kenya is a home to world class businesses in banking, finance, technology, mining, agriculture, automotive and manufacturing. Medical, the first MPESA. A continent-leading infrastructure that now needs saving and repairing, and begging to be fixed.

My Kenya is the savannah bush, the wide-open plains, the crashing ocean and deep, unique smell of our sea air, because, well, it’s Kenya.

The mountains and our trees. Our lions, giraffes, elephants, lions, leopards and cheetahs.

Our warthogs and aardvarks. The animals who chose this land and stayed. The animals that people come from all over the world to see.

MyKenya is one of Struggle heroes, a people who said no to tyranny, a people who want a better life. A people who want jobs. A people who want a government that cares. Truly cares. One that solves unemployment through job creation. And restores and returns hope to our wonderful people. Ever-patient. Resilient and creative. Restless.

My country is about all of this – and more. My Kenya , a place that embraced my great-grandfather when he stepped off a boat in 1940 to fight in a foreign country when his own country rejected him on returning as a MauMau terrorist, and detained him at Manyani detention camp for fighting for freedom.

My country, where grandmother lived not speaking a word of English during MauMau, while her family who stayed behind as others were fighting in the forest were murdered by the British and their traitor neighbours. 

A place of acceptance, diversity and multiculturalism.

A place where we found a new start, new beginnings. Our home for 125 years. A place that’s in my blood, my cells, my nose, my ears, my sight and touch. This is my Kenya .

And as I woke up this morning – for all her challenges, for all her struggles, for all we still need to do, to fix, to build, to fight against, to stand for, to create and save – I woke up happy to be here. To be home, my home, our home.

A place worth fighting for. A place rich in opportunity. For all of us. Each of us who call this our home.

Y our beliefs can be your worst oppressor

•Any belief that works against your purpose and design is a limiting belief

•To break a limiting belief, you must displace it; the thinking no longer services your belief system

Senegal won its first ever African Cup of Nations after a penalty shootout against seven-times winners Egypt

I marvel at the power of belief. In 2014, the story of a South African pastor who convinced his congregation to eat grass shocked the world. But then again, it’s not surprising from a belief perspective. His followers believed him when he told them that eating grass would get them closer to God. Once a belief is activated, people can do unbelievable things.

Belief can make or break you; a limiting belief is a conviction that breaks you. Interestingly, it doesn’t have to be true. It can be a lie, but once believed, it becomes your ‘truth’. I’ve discovered that, often, limiting beliefs are lies that people believe as truth.

Imagine you’re on a Safari, and you see a lion eating grass. What would you think? Most likely, you would be surprised. Why? Eating grass doesn’t align with the lion’s design; the king of the jungle doesn’t like salad. Now, if a lion eats grass, it has bought into a belief system that works against its design – this is a good picture of limiting beliefs. Any belief that works against your purpose and design is a limiting belief. So, how do you debunk your limiting beliefs? Here are three simple steps.

Interrogate Limiting Belief: In defence of a nasty attitude or behaviour, often we hear people say: “that’s how I am.” And normally my reply would be: “I don’t believe it.” In that situation, I challenge people to ask questions that would lead to the root of the matter, and not helplessly surrender to the belief that is causing harm. A limiting belief is a harmful conviction that has gone unchallenged; you have accepted it, and it’s limiting your greatness, power, potential, results, options, joys, etc., – but you would rather suffer under its weight.

Spot the Lie: The purpose for interrogating your limiting belief is to find the lie that powers it. Every limiting belief is powered by a lie. Find it, and you begin to weaken the belief’s grip on you. If it’s a limit on your purpose, it’s a lie. Once the lie is exposed, now it’s time to replace it.

Program the Truth: To break a limiting belief, you must displace it; the thinking no longer services your belief system. It is done by replacing the harmful belief with the truth about your design, purpose, and strength. If your limiting belief is a lie, then what is the truth? State your truth, and believe it – don’t stop until it sticks.

Only You Alone Holds The Power To Make Yourself Happy

Your friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, loved ones, and even complete strangers appear to have an unfortunate superpower: they can change your mood—from joyous to sad, from chipper to insecure, from smiling to upset—in an instant.

A single cavil, niggle, or snide comment can send you into a spiral of anxiety, agony, anger, and despair.

Why? Because you’ve outsourced your happiness.
Without realizing it, you cling to the admiration of others.

If they like me, I’ll be happy.
If they don’t, I’ll be unhappy.

This isn’t love—it’s relationship consumerism.

But who told you that you need their veneration? Even the people closest to you—your parents, your spouse, your child—who told you that you’d be a lesser human without their so-called respect?

No one.

That’s merely the story you tell yourself. Sadly, you’re correct. If you need someone’s acceptance, they will forever wield a rubber stamp over your internal state.

When you no longer need their validation, however, you immediately recover the power you relinquished. In turn, you reclaim your freedom.

How is this possible?
By letting go.

How do you let go of the need for approval?
You mustn’t do anything.
You must only cease your clinging.

What others think,
what they believe,
what they expect—
these are bars to a prison cell.

To break free, you must realize that those bars are lining their cage, not yours. You can walk away at any point.

Their opinions don’t matter.
Because nobody’s opinion matters.
The only thing that matters is the truth.
And the truth is that you are already complete.
Indeed, in an empty room, all alone, you are complete.
So the need for praise can only incomplete you.

Once you understand this—not in your head, but in your heart—you will be free. Ironically, in this state, you will earn more respect than ever.

You just won’t need it to be happy.

Big body ,Beautiful mind

She weighed 98 kgs in Form One. As it turns out there was a girl in school – a Form three – who weighed 102 kgs. What was remarkable was that in Form 2 she toppled that girl’s record; her weight shot up to 104 kgs. If you are 104 kgs in high school, a boarding school, your weight is like the flag that flutters very high up a pole in the main square. They used to call her ‘heavyweight champion’. Or just Heavyweight. Some school cooks called her Heavy. Cooks! And these were cooks who couldn’t even cook well. The process of knowing your weight was something purely out of a ColdWar handbook. There was a room called The Nutrition Room. From the Careers Office, you went down the corridor, past the big pillars that ran alongside a flower garden with an old ‘no walking here’ sign that would cost you severe punishment if you did because she went to a school that tended the flowers with more care than the girls, then you reached a dead end. If you looked left at the dead end you’d see a grey door. That was the Nutrition Room. 

All girls who were deemed to be overweight were often asked to go to this room for guidance on how to check their weight. It was constantly dark because they never opened the window. If you took a broom and beat the curtain, bats would surely fly off. Bats and crickets and generations of mosquitoes. It had a wooden desk, one wooden chair, and a weighing machine, a big one, the type they used in warehouses to weigh big bags of grain. This was the same room that would supposedly usher in great health for the girls of the high school. It was manned by the head of nutrition whose job, apart from weighing girls and advising them on how to lose weight, was to make sure that the whole school’s diet was nutritious. She was called Mrs. Pamela but people called her Madam Josef. If you know anything about World War 2, you must know Dr Josef Mengele, Hitler’s crony. He was a horrible man and an even worse doctor. He conducted medical research on Jewish prisoners in concentration camps. He favoured identical twins, or people with two different eye colours or dwarfs or Jews with physical abnormalities. You need to go to the Auschwitz museum in Poland. I went there a few years back. You will be horrified at what man can do to a fellow man. People were sobbing in the group tours. Go and see Mendele’s handiwork, it’s the devil’s masterpiece. 

So anyway when she asks me if I know Dr. Josef Mengele, I jump off my seat and say, “Yes! The Nazi guy!” She nodded calmly as if saying, “OK OK, correct. You will get a cookie after this.” Madam Pamela or Madam Josef wore these owlish wire glasses and long dull dresses that swept the floor. She was skinny and willowy, with high and sharp cheekbones that poked against her face as if demanding to be let out of her body. For a skinny person, she walked slowly, holding up her long dresses while at it, as if she was a princess attending a ball. 

“She would sit upright in her chair in this room, like really upright -”

“Like a mummy,” I say. 

“Yeah, ha-ha. She would sit like this.” She sits very upright, staring straight ahead, like she is really constipated. Or she just bit a stone in her dengu and she is listening for a broken tooth. She sits there, staring at nothing. I’m chuckling at her demonstration because it’s gone on longer than it should. I have gotten the point but she sits there, ramrod straight,   I wait for her to finish. I think she’s holding her breath. She could pass out. She could keel over slowly from asphyxiation and fall over her fruit salad with honey and nuts, then I will have to push her off it and finish her nuts. No nuts should ever go to waste because a budding actress died during an audition. I look around the cafe – we are at Java Astrol – to see if other customers are staring at us thinking, is that girl dead and why is that guy just sitting there chuckling like an idiot, he should eat her nuts. If I’m going to leave this interview with any image, it will be of this demonstration, I think.

“Anyway, so she would sit like that in her office.” She says when her soul finally re-enters her body. Colour floods back to her cheeks. 

After weighing yourself, she would record your weight on some excel-like sheet that had your weight recordings since you were a baby. She would miraculously bend her [long?] neck and disapprovingly pore over the results from over her glasses. Then she’d look up and a thick, heavy sigh would escape her mouth. “Have you been eating right?” She’d ask. 

“I was tempted to tell her that, no, I have a pizza oven at the back of the dormitories. I built it myself. I make Hawaiian pizzas there every evening,” she rolls her eyes. “It was a boarding school, I didn’t have the option of eating anything apart from what we were served in the school cafeteria! She always spoke of eating small portions, but our portions were already so small that if you ate the small portion of this portion you’d be fasting.” I’m giggling uncontrollably. I can’t help myself. She’s hilarious. She reminds me of this whacky girl called Abigail Arunga who has a most rabid sense of humour. 

She didn’t have a problem with her weight. It’s the school that had a problem with her weight. It was a Catholic school. “I grew up thinking that perhaps God doesn’t like fat people.” 

“Of course, God is a vegan.” I chime in. 

“But there are fat vegans,” she protests. 

“Are there?” I ask. “I don’t go out often.”

“They are in Milan.”

“Ha-ha. Never been to Milan.”

“Never?”

“Never.” I say. “It sounds stuffy. The kind of place people order a drink – and Covid – while standing on your toes.”

“Not dramatic at all.”

She was happy with her weight. In fact, she liked her weight in Form One because it made her look older and the older girls kept off her face while her peers were being pushed around, ordered around. “I was sitting with Form 3s and 4s during meals. They had a corner, their corner, where they sat during all meals. It was unheard of to sit with them unless you were a Form three or Four.”

“How were you invited to the big table, did you have to sacrifice a white baby lamb?”

“No, ha-ha. Actually, sometimes to sit at a table you just have to walk up to the table and pull a chair.”

“Is that what you did?”

“No.” 

Ha-ha. 

“My cousin was in Form 3, she invited me. It got me stinky looks in the beginning because I was upsetting the world order of coolness but I didn’t care because when you are a big girl all your life, stinky looks don’t scare you.”

She was popular in high school. “I have always been popular. You know why?”

“No…”

“Because popularity is based on the thin premise – see what I did there? – that coolness is about looks. All the cool girls in my school were beautiful Cinderella-like beauties who clustered together like bacteria -”

I roar with laughter. Lady on the next table turns from her laptop to look at me. 

“You need not be brainy or have a great personality, all you needed is to have beautiful genes. I didn’t make the cut, rather my face did but my body didn’t, but I had dealt with that kind of racism in my primary school, I knew how those cliques worked and I knew the kind of girls who belonged to them. They had insecurities of coolness. The only insecurity I had was that I had thick ankles. So thick that when I wore shoes – no matter what kind – they spilled over the shoes. I still do. Can I show you my ankles, Ben?”

“Please, I can’t wait.”

We bend under the table. Yes, indeed. I can report that she has some pair of thick ankles on her. Also, she’s wearing the cleanest and whitest Ngomas I have ever seen on anyone. A walking Bata billboard. 

“Have you met men who have a thick-ankle fetish?”

It’s her turn to roar.

“That’s the story. I will come to that, little Bunny.”

If anyone else would have called me Little Bunny, I would have felt some type of way. Little Bunny? Big floppy ears, beady eyes, fragile? But somehow, the way she said it, it felt like a big compliment. Little Bunny sipped his masala tea with a grin. 

Once she sat at the cool table and made the girls laugh to tears, they would see her carrying her plate across the dining hall and beckon her to sit with them. So she did. But she also would sit with the rest of the plebeians. The working class. The blue collars. The ones who grew up in hamlets by lazy rivers with no names. The ones with only two uniforms. Who were never visited. “In a way, I was these people. I wasn’t a cool girl. I was just a girl who was cool enough to draw people in with my personality. I hid little parts of me behind my jokes and my enthusiasm. You could never find me feeling low. I don’t attend pity parties even now. If you are moaning about something, I will snap you out of it quickly.” 

“Would you say you are brassy?”

She says, “Wait, let me Google what that means before I answer.”

Ha-ha-ha. I really need to stop laughing at everything this chick says, I tell myself. 

She reads out loud. “ Brassy, very confident and aggressive in a loud, sometimes annoying manner. Hmm.” She puts away her phone in her bag because if she leaves it on the table I might steal it. “Am I confident? Yes. Am I aggressive? Yes. Am I annoying? I’m sure to some people yes. I am annoying because I don’t stand in line. I don’t know how to play nice, or how to do as I’m told. I’m not that girl. I question things.”

“Did you ever question Madam Josef?”

“No. I feared her. Everybody did. She kept a flying broom behind her door. But one time I told my dad that I was being subjected to losing weight by the school and he was mad. He said”, she bangs the table with her fist. A spoon jumps up in fright. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? How long has this been going on?? He was furious. He matched to the school and demanded to speak to the principal. He told them he’d sue them for emotional abuse. That’s how I stopped going to the Nutrition Office. I was in Form Two, I think. Yes, Form Two, second term.”

“Tell me about your dad. What kind of a guy is he?”

“Do you know the Kamikaze, Ben?”

“The Japanese suicide pilots?”

“Yes, now picture one with a really thin neck”

I’m rolling on the floor. 

“My dad will blow up anything for me.  I have never met any man who has no fear like my dad. You know people talk about courage, they don’t know courage until they meet my dad. He is practically fearless.”

“What has he done that was fearless?”

“What has he done that was fearless? Let’s see. First, he beat poverty. I mean real poverty. You know the poverty that an orphan in a village would endure? That kind. No meal a day kinda poverty. Even through poverty he dreamt he would come to Nairobi and be rich. He came to Nairobi, and he became rich. He became rich not from stealing or conning people or supplying fiction to the government but from good old honest work. He’s charming, that’s his secret. He knows what everybody wants. He went for a woman who was above his social class and married her. Then he left her after two years and married my mother who was also above his social class. That’s courage, Ben.”

“Indeed, ha-ha.”

“He wasn’t done. He got the three of us and took us to very good schools. You can tell I have had a great education, Ben, can’t you?”

“From the moment you sat down.”

“Ha-ha. We all went to great universities. Abroad. Fine, we all had scholarships ha-ha but still…My brothers were very good at sports. I was very good with my brain.” She winks. I giggle. By now I hate myself but I don’t care anymore. It’s like stress-eating, you can’t stop, you are helpless. “Dad then built a successful business, brick by brick, bottom up, an uneducated but schooled man, while acquiring and maintaining a lot of class. Then when my mother was sick and dying, he stopped going to work to wash her and feed her and when western medicine failed he traversed this country, looking for alternative medicine men, herbal medicine men, until he found one who cured her. That’s love but great love requires great courage. My dad has fought for himself his whole life and then he fought for us and my mom. Isn’t that courage?”

“It is. Great love requires great courage. I love that!” I say. “Can I see a picture of this great lover?”

She scrolls her phone and shows me a recent picture of her dad. He’s at a restaurant, at a dinner table. He’s smirking because he’s the centerpiece. She doesn’t look like him, all right. 

“He was turning 65.” She tells me. 

In university, her weight ballooned, especially during winter. Abroad is a horror story that she hates to recount in detail. She had very few friends.  She was very lonely. And cold. “Europeans don’t have a welcome doormat.” For the first time her self-esteem was shaken. “I was smart and charming, I knew it. I could sing. I could also play the guitar but I just never seemed to settle into the social system. The men I would run into didn’t interest me because they saw me as a fetish.”

“You promised to tell me about the men with ankle fetish.”

“Ha-ha and I keep my promises.”

So she graduates and starts packing her bags to come back home but then her daddy [Her father, ie,] calls her and gives her a long spiel about Masters, how important it is to stay there and get done with it. “I’m unhappy here!” She cried. He told her home wasn’t going anywhere. So she unpacked her bags again and stayed on for another two years. 

“By this time I was obese. I didn’t even bother standing on the weighing scale because none was built for me. I was big, Ben… as in BIG. My BMI was for a teenage elephant. I was so big that when I sat I would immediately start thinking and planning for the process of standing up. Because standing up normally was painful for me. I had to hold onto something to stand up, I couldn’t just stand up on my own. I was constantly sick. Something was constantly aching. Or not working. Before I came down I was advised to buy a bra because apparently, Kenya didn’t have a bra for thick women that time. So you know what I did?”

“No.”

“I decided to come with half the bras I had. To motivate me to lose weight. Because I was going to die. I had been told by my doctor several times.”

“How many kilos did you weigh?”

“I was over 260 pounds.”

Oh, I hate when people use pounds. Or miles. Does it hurt one to just use kilos? Saves everybody the math. I converted it from my phone. That’s like 120 kilos! That’s massive. 

“That’s massive!” I say. 

“Yeah. I only wore adjusted dresses. Big floaty things.”

“Which you used to float to Kenya.”

“Yeah. The reaction of everybody when they first saw me after six years was of shock. I had stopped sending pictures back home after my third year because they couldn’t fit in the mail.” She chuckles at her own joke, her shoulders trembling in the process. “It’s like they had seen a ghost. A big ghost. My dad’s hands couldn’t embrace me fully. I stayed in the house for months, starving myself, eating like an insect. My dad is a frugal man who thinks if he buys a luxury car he will not see heaven’s gates, so he’d drive this small car. I couldn’t fit in the front seat. We tried. That’s how big I was.” 

“You don’t speak about your mother.”

“You haven’t asked about my mother. You just want to know about the men who worshipped my ankles.”

“How is your mother, Linda*?”

“She is fine. We are not close. Everytime I tell people that, they gasp. Because we all have to be close to our mothers, right? I’m not close to my mom. It’s not like we fell out or anything but my mother has never been the nurturing type and that’s also okay. She was just not into…mothering, you know what I mean? It wasn’t that she didn’t care, as I understood mothers like her later in life, it’s just that she wasn’t invested in the duties and emotions that mothers are expected to invest in.”

“What was she invested in?”

“I dunno…in herself and the things that moved her. Mothering wasn’t one of them. My dad filled in both roles.”

“Do you think she was – is – a better wife?”

She crosses her hands across her bosom. [ I like when people say bosom. It sounds so responsible.] She chews her bottom lip in thought. Then she says, “I wouldn’t marry my mom.”

“Why?”

Long beat. 

“I dunno, Ben. Forget the mothering thing, or lack of it but I always felt like she was just….there. Uninspired with domesticity, with life in general. She seemed unable to plug into life fully. When I think of my mother I think of someone who is…listless.”

“Listless.”

“Yes. Listless. Lacking in drive, energy. Just there. I’ve never known what makes her tick. She’d refuse to go out with us for a family lunch on Sundays. Or just a trip to somewhere. She’d say, oh you guys run along, I’m tired, I will stay in and sleep.”

“Maybe after you guys left she’d sigh and say, finally! Then wear her dress and wedges and leave the house. Maybe go have a cocktail somewhere and fantasize how one day she will run away from you guys.”

She laughs. “Or maybe she had a lover. My mom is very secretive, she is the type to have a lover. I wouldn’t blame her, though. I don’t blame anyone for having a lover in marriage.”

“But you never been married, how would you know?”

“I have been with two married men.”

“Are they the guys who had a fetish for your ankles?” I sit up dramatically, “Is this finally the story?”

She laughs. “So I will let you know that there are men who love big women, Ben. Many men actually. When my weight dropped to 224 pounds and I was finally able to come out of the house, I would get hit on by a whole lot of men. I once dated a man who, I don’t know if I can say this on a respectable blog like yours…”

“My blog isn’t an SDA blog, go ahead.”

She stalls. “No, but you can’t publish this. It’s a bit personal.” 

She tells me the story and my mouth slowly forms an O. 

“You are lying!”

“I’m not.”

“Is this guy still alive? That’s a dangerous activity.”

She laughs. “He is. He works for a big bank as a big boss.”

“Bankers are filthy. Wearing a tie the whole day does that to you.”

Anyway, she tells me that, “these two married men I was seeing were solid men. They were good men. They weren’t seeing me because they are bad men, or bad people, to be honest but they came for refuge, for stability. One of them would never talk about his wife or his marriage but I knew his marriage was in trouble because he would come over after work and just sit and have tea – he never took alcohol- and we would talk about work and life. He was funny and lively and such a soul but everytime I saw him to his car you could see his personality change. He was suddenly withdrawn and unhappy. Like he was going to face the hangman. It used to make me so sad. We broke up when he relocated. The second married guy always talked about his marriage. He was greatly unhappy. He was constantly stressed about money. I’d lend him money often. He was attentive and caring. These men were like boys again, like children, when they were in my house. They were not corporate men or businessmen with titles anymore. They were just boys with great vulnerabilities and fears. Men carry a lot of fears but they know how to hide them in their coats and cars and drinking. These affairs weren’t because they were these randy men sneaking around, but because they needed something; refuge and there was never refuge at home. They made me sad, to be honest. Their marriages made me sad. My relationship with them made me sad. I didn’t want that sadness in my life. After the second one I vowed never to date a married man. I think it’s from that point that I decided that marriage wasn’t for me.”

“But they loved your thick ankles,” I say jokingly.

She roars. “Wow. All that and you bring it down to my ankles? Yeah..”

“They must have been thin men. Thin men love thick girls.”

“Ha-ha. They weren’t big for sure. Average.”

We talked for three hours. (I laughed for two, ashamedly.)  Her story was initially about her weight and how she overcame it but when we sat she felt like it was a cliche. [I agreed.] She felt like she didn’t want to place too much importance on weight loss, that it wasn’t an achievement. That she’s more than that. More than her BMI. But she was fun and funny and irreverent and honest. A joy to sit with which then turned this story to about me giggling and losing my dignity. 

Why do dogs live less than people?

Here’s the answer:

Being a vet in Kenya, I was called to examine a 13-year-old Irish dog named Belker living with an expatriate family.

The dog’s family, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little 6-year-old Shane were close to Belker and expected a miracle.

I tested the dog and found out he was dying of cancer. I told the family I couldn’t do anything for him and offered to do the euthanasia procedure at home.

The next day, I felt the familiar feeling in my throat when Belker was surrounded by family.

Shane seemed so quiet, petting the dog for the last time and I was wondering if he would understand what was going on. In a few minutes, the animal fell peacefully sleeping to never wake up.

The child seemed to accept Belker’s transition without difficulty. We sat for a moment wondering why the unfortunate fact that dog life is shorter than human beings.

Shane, who had been listening closely, said, “I know why.”

What he said next surprised me: I had never heard a more heartwarming explanation than this. This moment changed my way of seeing life.

He said: “People come into the world to learn to live a good life, like loving others all the time and being a good person, eh? well, as dogs are already born knowing how to do all this, they don’t have to stay as long as we do.”

The moral of the story is:

If a dog was his teacher, you’d learn things like:

🐾 When your loved ones come home, always run to say hello.

🐾 Never pass up an opportunity to go for a walk.

🐾 Allow yourself the experience of fresh air and wind.

🐾 Runs, jumps, and plays daily.

🐾 Upgrade your attention and let people touch you.

🐾 Avoid ” biting” when just a “growl” would suffice.

🐾 On warm days, lay on the grass.

🐾 When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

🐾 And never forget: “When someone has a bad day, stay silent, sit close and gently make them feel like you’re there…”

This is the secret of happiness that, even if we don’t realize, dogs teach us daily.

Everything will fall apart, eventually

As consumers, we are often drawn to fancy new objects. But Wiens ,the author of THINGS COME APART,tends to look at potential purchases through a different lens. “I think, what will go wrong with it?” he said.
“I have a little bit more of a cynical attitude, I guess,” Wiens explained. “Everything is going to break, no matter how well built it is.”
Wiens’ view resonated with me, as someone who’s faced deep grief of lost days in my life. Everything is impermanent — our lives and our belongings — and accepting that impermanence is key to resilience.
Psychologists say that recognizing how fragile existence is leads to embracing the present. It allows us to be more mindful and better appreciate the current moment. This too, applies to our physical belongings. By realizing they will one day break, we are more likely to treat objects with care.
“This is existential to what life is, right?” Wiens mused. “If the force of the universe is pushing and tearing things apart, then our entire lives — everything we’re doing — is trying to add order to reverse that entropy. I think it’s something that we take for granted.”
We should all feel empowered to fix things.
Fortunately, when objects break, we have the opportunity to repair them. Many of us — me included — have been conditioned to throw away our old appliances, furniture or electronics when they malfunction. Wiens, along with his company iFixit, wants to change that.

An online repair community, iFixit is dedicated to restoring broken objects. The site boasts a massive library of crowdsourced repair manuals — at the time of publication, there were nearly 77,000 free manuals available for nearly 35,000 devices. Users can fix anything from a broken toaster or a malfunctioning game console to a busted laptop or a car that won’t start.
Choosing to fix broken objects instead of replacing them is a key step to sustainability, Wiens said. “Anytime you’re fixing something, you’re deferring having to manufacture another one,” he explained.

Of course, fixing some objects is harder than others. Many manufacturers of devices like smartphones, laptops and wireless headphones have increasingly designed products that are difficult to repair without specialized equipment or access to authorized repair shops. Not only is this costly for consumers, it’s also bad for the environment.
Over the past few years, there has been a growing global effort, known as the “right to repair” movement, to push these manufacturers to make repairs easier and more accessible. Recently, that movement got a big boost from US President Joe Biden.
Biden issued an executive order in July aimed at promoting competition in the US economy, which includes a provision that directs the Federal Trade Commission to issue rules preventing manufacturers from imposing restrictions on DIY repairs and independent device repair shops.
Wiens is encouraged by this progress. “We’ve been talking about this for decades,” he said. “Finally, we’re starting to see some attention.”
Like a true hands-on guy, he added, “We just have to turn that into tangible action.”
What can we do? Anything
I never expected to receive philosophical advice from someone best known for fixing broken objects, but there is a lot I couldn’t predict about this time in which we live. Considering how broken the world feels lately, someone who’s built his career on repairing things is perhaps the perfect source for advice.
“We are in a fragmented, fractured society right now, and people tend to throw up their arms and say that we can’t solve anything,” Wiens said.
He doesn’t buy that mindset. Wiens said one approach to feeling more capable of solving problems is to begin with “something tangible and practical in your life,” like, say, a broken vacuum cleaner.

His company currently has repair guides for 41 different brands of vacuum cleaners, the first appliance that Wiens remembers fixing alongside his handyman grandfather. Today, with the help of iFixit, users can learn how to replace the power button on a Bissell Pet Hair Eraser or fix the motor of a Ryobi VC120.
What you choose to fix doesn’t matter as much as the act of repair itself. “We really do think that repair has the opportunity to bring people together and set a mold of success that can be modeled elsewhere,” Wiens said.
Again, there are mental health benefits to this approach. Repairing tangible objects requires absorption in the task at hand, also known as “flow,” which psychologists link to happiness. Likewise, researchers have found that doing something to help fix a bigger problem, such as donating to a charitable cause, activates regions of the brain associated with social connection, pleasure and trust.
Whether it’s repairing objects or fixing broken systems, the most important thing is to get started, Wiens said. “People are so intimidated (to try and fix things),” he added. “But once you remove the first screw and you start, you’re gonna succeed. Almost all of the obstacles are in your head, making you afraid to begin.”

Low self-esteem in your marriage? Try TINDER

The only reason I’m compelled to narrate the story of how he met his first wife is because I found it somewhat enchanting. Also because Jesus was involved. He was a church youth leader back in the days of yore. A man who had aligned himself to the ways of the good Lord. He was so devout a Catholic that this one time he was picked to play” Jesus” in the Way Of The Cross. As he staggered with the cross on his back, a small trickle of sweat making its way down the ridge of his back, he decided to remove his spectacles because Jesus never wore spectacles and they had become bothersome on his face. Without looking, he had extended the spectacles towards the crowd that was walking to his right, and someone’s hand had reached out from the crowd and relieved him of this burden of sight. He didn’t know who took it, all he knew was that that person was part of the church congregation.

The procession ended and the crowd gathered back in church. From the pulpit the catechist made an announcement: “Will the person who took Jesus’ spectacles please bring it up here?” The crowd was mum. “Because Jesus is having a migraine.” Ha-ha. The crowd shimmered with laughter. The person who had his spectacles, it turns out, was a lady and she was too shy to go up to take the spectacles because it takes guts to go up to the pulpit during a full mass. But later, after the mass, she gave him his spectacles and he gave her his heart.

That first marriage ended three years later, with one son to show for it.

It ended because of a litany of reasons; first his business nose-dived after the post-election violence, and when it was floundering on its knees the recession of 2010 finished it off. His house got auctioned. Men came and silently carried his shit away. He moved to some small digz from which to try and eke out a living. He did odd jobs but un-oddly enough they weren’t enough to sustain him and a young family, so he had to gulp his pride and move into his pal’s mom’s servants’ quarters with his tail between his legs. His wife had to move back to her folk’s house with his son. Meanwhile cracks had started forming in the marriage like a thirsty earth yearning for rain. So he he asked his wife and son to move back in that crummy servants quarter. It was tough, suffice it to say. The cracks in the marriage started getting wider and hungrier, cutting into the marriage, looking for something to swallow. She started talking at him. They started fighting. There is nothing worse that fighting in a small servants quarter because of the proximity to the other person. When rich folk in Kyuna fight, someone can stomp off and go upstairs to sit in one of the three balconies overlooking the flower garden. In a servants quarter you fight and you stay there and the two of you sit there in the festering animosity like manure. But also, that means reconciliation could be faster because you don’t have to look for someone for 30 minutes in the 23-room mansion.

One night his wife left. For a week. Phone off. Left him alone with his son. By this time things had gotten pretty nasty of course and he was increasingly feeling more desperate. When she finally came back there was a massive fight that involved her phone. Another man was involved, he discovered, not without shock. He kicked her out. Her parents came for her in the middle of the night, there was screaming in the lawn and fury and hurt and disappointment and righteousness and a crying baby.

Then came the depression and the therapist and the medication and the hopelessness of not being able to support yourself financially let alone another small person and the fight for custody and the worse fights between him and her family and the tiresome malice and revenge coursing in the blood, and him being so broke because lawyers don’t do shit for exposure.

Amazingly during this time he met a girl and she was his type (his type is curvy and big) and she came into his life during this whirlwind, a time of confusion but she had such lovely hips to cling to and shoulders to lean on and moan about how unfair life was and he figured that those lemons people that people say life hands them, this could be it, so he made a lemonade out of it in by way of marriage.

When the the courts ruled – shared custody – he was already living with this babe who was to become his wife in 2013. Then his relationship with his ex-wife improved because he says that you fight so much for this child and it’s so unhealthy and toxic so much so that at some point you realise that someone has to try kindness because everything else has failed and kindness ended up working for him because the relationship thawed enough to allow for common decency to thrive.

Then his wife got a baby. Rather they got a baby. Because that statement makes it sound like she got a baby from napping in the afternoon. They got a baby.

Here is actually where this story starts. For me at least.

The are two things that seem to have become fashionable lately; guacamole and blended families. And what is important in this story is that he one day found himself in a blended family. He had a son with the first wife and a daughter with the second wife. There was one problem though; his wife didn’t get along with his son. His wife didn’t get along with his son because his mother-in-law doesn’t like his son. She told his daughter that she didn’t want to see that son in her house. Why would mother-in-law be meddling in their affairs like that, you ask. What does it matter what the mother-in-law felt? Why can’t they just tell her to piss off? Well, she is loaded. Old money. That kind of thing. And his wife doesn’t work, so you know that thing they say about he who pays the piper calls the tune? Yep.

“What would you expect of her if you were in my shoes?” he asks me. We are seated at the Java in Karen. I’m having a lemon-poppy muffin, pinching it like you would ugali. Just shadiness. Because certain things deserve to be eaten in certain ways; you can’t eat ugali with knife and fork just like only socially maladjusted people cut an apple in four equal parts. “What would you expect if she said her mom doesn’t want your own son at her house?”

“I’d expect her to defend my son.” (I wanted to add, ‘and avenge his honour!’ for purely dramatic effect]

“Exactly,” he says.

The wife didn’t do so. In fact, she totally disengaged from his son. He noticed that she can never be in the same room with his son; if he walked in she would walk out. She never acknowledges his son. Hardly looks at him. Hardly talks to him. When she cooks, she asks him to serve his son. He’s invisible. And it hurt him. Deeply. So he spoke to her. “I told her that I would appreciate if she made an effort to be more engaging with my son, because it didn’t make me feel good seeing how their relationship was,” he says twiddling the straw of his milkshake. Meanwhile he was barely staying afloat in business, you know how it is, many balls in the air, some falling, hell, most falling.

So he started feeling like he was being squeezed into a wedge – the stress of having your wife not get along with your son and the stress of business.

The wife never really warmed up to the boy. “At some point I told her, listen this is a child, you are the adult, you have to extend yourself to him and not the other way round, but you are not. I’m willing to give you time but if this continues for much longer I don’t see how me and you can work out,’” he says.

“And so things changed after that?”

“She started making some effort, a little effort but effort all the same. But then after a while things went back to how they were.”

“How do things stand now?”

“Same. I can tell you that we won’t last.” He then adds, “Nobody ever claimed me as a child. I was never claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

The answer to that riddle ironically is right before me – on his face. He points at old marks on his face. “You see these? You see these scars on my face, this is how I grew up. I grew up in the hands of stepmothers.” His mother left them when he was three years old. She just took off. He doesn’t want to get into it because there is nothing to get into. He doesn’t know her. Yes, he knows her in terms of he knows where she lives now and he can pick up the phone and talk to her but he doesn’t know her, you know what I mean? I try to poke in there a bit because I can’t imagine someone so blasé about his mother but he is nonplussed by the whole idea of having a mother. “She has never seen my two children,” he says. “Are you bitter with her, for leaving you guys so young?” He shrugs and says, “It’s not my fault she left us. That responsibility I can’t take. It was not my work to parent myself.”

So his father raised them and he speaks highly of him, they are very good pals, but his father never knew how to raise three boys, so what did he do, he would get married to find a mother to raise the boys and this mothers were not coming to raise someone else’s kids, that’s not what they had in mind when they signed on the dotted line, so when they realised that they were backing the wrong horse, they would turn their frustration on him and his siblings. Thus the scars on his forehead.

“We suffered under the hands of stepmoms. These marks are from beatings. I would be denied food. “And so I know how it is to be mistreated by a step-mother and I don’t ever want that for my son. You understand. I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” He sucks his milkshake. “ I don’t want to turn into my father. He is on his third marriage now.”

“You are on your second, you are not too far behind.” I mumble. “Looks like you are headed that way.”

He chuckles.

“How do you think your socialisation, seeing your father try out different marriages affects you? Do you think these things have a bearing on who you are now? Ama shit just happens?”

“I think they do. I think I don’t know what to do with a wife.”

I laugh at that and write it down: I don’t know what to do with a wife. It’s a powerful line.

“No, really, I don’t. Listen, I married my wife but my wife never left her parents home. She comes from a wealthy family, she doesn’t work, she hasn’t worked since we got married, not because I’m ati rich, because I’m not, but because she gets a monthly allowance or stipend, or whatever from her father. As in every month money is wired for her for matumizi. Look, this money helps me sometimes when I’m broke and I have to borrow like we always do as husband and wife but this also means that she is still attached strongly to her family. I see it with her siblings, they just never really leave the digs and so my wife doesn’t know the value of hustling -”

“Let’s back up a bit,” I interrupt him. “I liked what you said about not being able to know what to do with a wife.”

“Yeah. I don’t. I have no references to feed from. I’m just you know, winging it and it’s not even going well.”

“You can fix it, no?”

“I fixed myself. I have never been a confident person and when you are not confident you make wrong choices, you get? I was fat, you guy. I wasn’t like this. I felt inferior because of that. I was a good 106 kgs at some point. In 2016 someone thought I was 40 when I was only 31. Our sex life at home was shit. I thought it was my fault that it was that way. So I worked on myself, I started losing weight and now I’m 82 kgs.”

“Did the sex life at home change after weight loss?”

“Actually, let me just say that for a year in 2016, when I started feeling that our sex life was terrible because of me I was at the very bottom of my self-esteem. I thought I had lost it as a guy. [“It” here is vavavoom]. I wanted validation, I wanted to know that I still had it, that I still could satisfy a woman. So I joined Tinder.”

So for a year he got chicks off Tinder and shagged them. He realised that he actually was interesting enough even with his weight to get a woman to sleep with him. And that led into him joining a gym and losing weight and when he got to the right weight and he had confirmed that indeed his “game” wasn’t bad as he had imagined, he got off Tinder. But sex at home never improved.

“What was the problem? Was she nodding off in the middle of it from boredom?”

“Ha-ha. It was just not adventurous. It was boring. If I don’t break a sweat then it’s boring sex. And so infrequent.”

“How infrequent?”

He pauses, as if counting. Then he says, “In 2017 we had sex four times.”

“What?!” I say. Four times in a year? That’s the number of times I went to the dentist last year!

“Yup. And last year I think I had sex three times.”

“Get out!” I say.

“Yeah, but it’s cool. Of course I stepped outside the marriage out of that necessity.”

“Well, I bet she did too, she has those needs too.”

“I doubt she did.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know.”

“Do you love her?”

“No. That’s the sad truth. The thing is the marriage has been in limbo for a while now. I don’t want it to fail because I don’t want mine to fail like other marriages, plus I don’t want to turn out like my father. I don’t want to have many marriages?”

“And what’s wrong with having many marriages? What does it say about you?”

“Look, two children with two wives, the common denominator is me, that’s what it says. It says there is something wrong with me.”

“Who is to say the maximum number of times one should be married?”

“I think getting married many times simply says you are shit at marriage.”

We turn to look at some punk honking constantly and loudly. The sound of his horn echoes in the restaurant and in my skull. We sit silently and wait for the ruckus to abate.

“Do you think you have been a good husband to her?”

“If I wasn’t I don’t think my ex-wife would want me back.”

I chuckle. “She does?”

“She acts like she does.”

I try again.

“Do you think your wife is happy in this marriage?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Gun to my head I’d say she isn’t. Her folks have been married for 40-years and she is the only one in her family who is married. I think she wants to remain married for them. It won’t go down well if she gets divorced.”

“What’s keeping you in this marriage then?”

“Money. I don’t have it. I don’t want to carry a single thing from this house when I leave. But when I make that money, I’m out.”

I felt sad. To be honest. I told him so, I said, that’s no way to live. That’s no way to spend your life. People don’t have to be together. Nobody said so.

A banker over the day, a drug peddler all the time

Life thrust marriage at Frank, like you would a bribe in the hands of an unwilling official. He didn’t go looking for it like some men who plan engagements with a ring, bended knees and starry eyes. He was a bystander in life when fate veered off its path and hit him with a wife.

What happened was that he liked this girl who lived with her parents 200 meters from his house. She was older and hella sexy. She also had a penchant for making him laugh. If you knew Frank, you would know that that wasn’t an easy feat.  Her dad was a badass, never smiled with anyone in the estate as should dads who have sexy daughters because when you smile with these phallic-excitable boys they will take it as an invitation, open season to start speaking to your daughter. They will get too familiar. So he always scowled, ignoring Frank and other young types in the estate. But Frank is the type of guy who slips through the eye of the needle silently.  So before long the girl was sneaking into his house on her way from work, making them a meal and they were boffing like rabbits. One chill Sunday afternoon she told him casually as they lay in bed in various states of undress that she had missed her period. He remembered thinking, what?! As if he had been a virgin all through. As if he didn’t know how fertilization worked.  The next day after work she peed on a stick. A red line glared back at them.

Of course her father was going to kill him. He was going to dismember him and spread his limbs all over the city; an arm in Ngong, a leg in Uthiru, another leg in a farm in Kitengela, a head buried near Kamiti – his body parts a homicidal jigsaw puzzle.

There are two types of men in this scenario where one finds oneself with a pregnant girlfriend. The first is the type who sneaks out in the middle of the night, never to return. The other type says, “Fine, why don’t you move in with me, then?” And that’s how some women transition into wives. Frank is the second type of chap. But since her father looked murderous, he decided to play this by the book; he had to officially go their shags and announce his intentions before the pregnancy became a matter of public scrutiny.

“All of a sudden I had moved from this guy who lived alone to a guy who was about to become a husband and a father. I didn’t have time to process my impending transition and what it meant. I had to look for money and go visit her parents,” he says. “Problem was that I was broke. I work in one of the local banks and banks pay shit, you know that.”

He then started selling weed to raise funds. Why weed? Why not charcoal or capsicum? Well, he had been smoking weed since 2013. He knew how it worked, what good weed was and where to get it. There was money in weed because there are tens of hundreds of people who smoke it. Good weed, according to him, was from Kahawa area. “I had friends in Kahawa, and there was this pal of mine called Brayo [it’s always a Brayo] who knew the dealers. Do you stone, by the way?”

“Stone?” I ask. He’s 27-years old. Stone at my tender age of 41 is a piece of rock, something you can use in a riot. However, I know what to be “stoned” is; it’s to be high. I didn’t want to take chances though, because in 2019 to “stone” could mean anything.

“To stone is to smoke weed.”

“No. I don’t stone,” I say.

Anyway, he makes calls to Brayo, who makes calls to other guys and a kilogram of weed is bought and rolled and he gets a guy who pushes the product for him. Frank holds a Bachelor of Commerce degree, so he figured he’d stretch it.

“One kilogram of weed was like 20K and if I sold it in a week or two max, I’d make like 60K,” he says. “I was starting to make more from selling weed than working in the bank.” He could have said screw this job and gotten into the trade with both feet but he realised that he needed a cover, a legitimate career, as he sold his weed.

He raised 100K, gathered his people and together, they went to visit his girlfriend’s people past Thika huko, I forget the name. He sat quietly as the proceedings went on, allowing his older relatives to navigate the introductions. He was a graduate, he worked in an important bank, he combed his hair, he had clean shoes and he spoke well. They approved of him.

His girlfriend moved in with him as a wife as her bump grew bigger and bigger. They started fighting over silly things at first and he thought, aah, it’s the hormones. She is stressed from carrying all that weight, plus she must not enjoy how swollen her legs are and how big her nose has become. Then she started saying she hated it when he smoked weed, that she didn’t want him bringing weed to the house. So he stopped smoking it. “All this time she didn’t know that I was selling weed, of course, but she knew I was smoking it occasionally, from back when we were dating,” he says.

We are at the new Coco Jambo in Valley Arcade, seated at one of those long tables in the main bar. He’s having a Tusker, I’m having a whisky, and Wanjiku, with whom I was having a drink as I waited for him, is having a liqueur. We are also joined by a million mosquitoes and the waiters have to light some mosquito coils around us.

“I had a maternity cover from work that was so small it couldn’t adequately cover her at the hospital she wanted to give birth in. By this time everything was just irritating her, so I needed to raise more money to take her to the hospital she wanted,” he says.

One day during his lunch break at the bank Brayo rings him and says, “Dude, I have a pal called Salim from Eastleigh who says that there is some good, high quality weed from Moyale which we can sell and really make a killing.” He says, “Oh yeah?” Brayo says, “Yeah, I think we should get this stuff instead of the weak stuff we’ve been buying.” He continues, “We need to go straight to the source for this to make business sense.” Frank laughs and says, “The source is Moyale!” Brayo says, “Yeah, cut out the middle men!” Frank says, “That’s a mad idea. How are we going to get all that weed  back to Nairobi?” Brayo says, “I know a guy.”

Enter, Salim.

They sell this business idea to their weed-smoking friends – chaps in their mid 20s, mostly professionals who you are likely to see waiting for printouts at office printers. The idea is for them to grab the opportunity. They are sold. A few days later they all agree to meet Salim. They – the famous six – wait for Salim in a cafe in town.  Salim turns out to be a lanky chap with rows of small teeth, like a barracuda. He speaks fast and in small jerky sentences as if his words are running out of fuel. The plan is for all of them to raise cash and travel to Moyale to buy this special weed. They will also split the cost of transporting the weed back to Nairobi, which they will then pick up in Eastleigh. They ask Salim, “How are we sure that we will get our stash in Nairobi? What if something happens? What are the guarantees?” Salim leans back and says simply, “Leave it to me,” like someone who has done this umpteen times.  

The next day Frank applies for leave. A week later, they go downtown and hop into a ratty Moyale-bound bus, the six of them spread all over the loud bus in order not to arouse any suspicion. They are all graduates. They are all in their 20s. They all are in this weed business to supplement their incomes – the half of them who have jobs at least. Moyale is between the toes of the country, it turns out. It takes them 16 hours and many police roadblocks to get there. It’s dark when they finally arrive at the tiny village at the edge of the town. A perfect full moon the size of a giant saucer hangs over them, presiding over their entrance. All sound has fallen away. Trees look like amputated arms of ghosts that refuse to grow in the dry earth. They pass lone huts that in darkness look like humps of hippos. It’s hot and musky, their shirts cling to their backs.

A skinny man receives them and leads them to a compound where they are settled in a hut with a low roof and tiny windows. A lantern emitting soft light dangles from the roof.  They spend the night seated, backs against the wall, shooting the breeze, smoking weed shirtless and waiting for dawn. Occasionally someone would leave to piss into the darkness outside, hoping they don’t piss on a sleeping camel. If sleep came, it came in little pockets in form of a nap filled with adrenaline.  

At dawn they all step out to lay their eyes on Moyale in the light of day; dry, dusty and inhabited by goats and men in sandals. They wash their faces from a cupful of water and then the skinny man says, “Okay, now we walk to Ethiopia.” So they set off on foot. They are in vests and open shoes because it’s blazing hot. Frank calls the man a “pedi”, the word they use for peddler. (Imagine now a pedi who gets a pedi.) In a file led by the pedi, they walk slowly in the rising dust until all civilisation falls behind them and it’s just them and gnarled trees and a sky with not one ball of cloud. It’s hot and they are sweating. Their feet are now so dusty you can’t tell where the earth ends and their feet begin. They start looking like part of the landscape.

They cross the border, which isn’t much to speak of because there is nothing specifically that shows that you are now crossing into Ethiopia, and they walk for another hour to finally come upon a large farm where the special weed is grown. They are received by an Ethiopian, the man who runs shit there. He has a crooked nose, perhaps good for smelling trouble. He shakes their hands, one at a time, while mumbling something in Amharic.He then gives them a tour of the farm, telling them about the weed and why it’s worth the trip from Kenya. They are shown their stash, which will be sent to the village in Moyale on a badass donkey (the money had been sent before hand), and which will find itself onto a bus (the weed, not the donkey) and will come to Nairobi and land in Eastleigh. The boys will then send their pedis to go pick, sort and start selling the weed.

That all takes two weeks. Unlike food from UberEats, you can’t monitor the progress of the weed; you just wait and trust that it will get to Nairobi. Indeed, it gets to them two weeks later.

Business blows up in Kahawa and Juja. Their clientele are mostly university students, touts and drivers. Word goes around that there is some good weed doing the rounds. Everybody wants it. Frank never goes to the ground, he largely runs his business from the bank. He’s a bank teller. I ask him how he manages to do that  Aren’t tellers not allowed to use their phones at work? “I have my phone in my pocket at work, and we mostly operate on SMSes. If there is something I need to handle I will call during my break. But at the end of the week I’d go down to meet my pedi and we would reconcile our books,” he says.

“We were doing so well that this one time the six of us were at a party in Juja  and these guys were talking about this new strain of weed that was so dope, not knowing that the guys who brought it in were right there in that house.” He chuckles. Frank doesn’t do eye contact. When he speaks, he looks straight ahead as if reading from a teleprompter.

Then in 2017, his son is born in the hospital his wife wanted which, unbeknownst to her, was paid for by the money from his weed business. He names the boy after his father who died when he was four years old. He’s now a new father. “I was someone’s father now and I felt the weight of it, the responsibility,” he says. The first day he brings his wife and the baby home, he sits at the edge of their bed and looks at the little thing swathed in a bundle like a parcel, only slightly bigger than the weed parcels they sell.

Life continues. His business is thriving. He wakes up and goes to the bank, sits at the counter and smiles at his customers and says things like, “Kindly write your ID number here and sign here, here and here,” and, “How are you today, Mr Kisero? Would you like that in dollars or Kenya shillings?” and “Do you want some of this on M-Pesa?” During his lunch break he’s on the phone, moving weed from one location to another, monitoring his sales, saying things like, “Haina ngori, mali inamak.”

Back at home the marriage wasn’t going as planned. “She just didn’t seem satisfied with anything anymore,” he says. The harder he worked, the more fights they seemed to be having.  

But his wife was the least of his problems because, unbeknownst to him, the Kenya Government in the form of the “long arm of the law” had gotten wind of their new brand of weed and was silently shaking up folk for information on its source and dealers. They grabbed one of their pedis at a bus terminus in Kahawa West when he tried selling it to one of their undercover agents. They walked with him to a riverbank and tried to get him to talk but he was a man of honour. He wasn’t going to snitch. So they told him that he had to leave town or they would find him and drop him. (For all the old guys at the back reading us from country clubs, ‘drop him’ doesn’t mean give him a lift. It means kill him.)

“Word spread that cops were now on our tail so we had to be very careful. I stopped my weekly visits to Juja. The six of us avoided being together in a room. I minimised communication on SMS with my pedi and made calls instead,’’ he says. Basically shit we watch on Homeland. I could see him at the bank’s breakout area at lunch, making a call and then removing the sim card, snapping it in two and disposing of it in the dustbin. Of course, I’m being over the top. I’m sure none of that ever happened.

“One day I got a call from Brayo, saying that some of our friends had been busted at a party in a house belonging to this engineering student and hauled into the police cell,” he says. “We got them out by paying 30K and after that I knew that everything had to change. The cops were now too close for comfort.” Not long after, Salim disappeared. “We tried to reach him for days but couldn’t find him. We freaked out because we knew they had either killed him or he was in jail. Then one day he showed up, nervous, shifty and restless, and he told us what had happened. Apparently the cops had found him and driven him to the swimming pool at Kasarani at night. They told him that they knew he had brought in some weed from Moyale. He was made to lie down with his head hanging over the edge of the swimming pool and they placed a gun to his head and told him that if he ever sold weed again in this town they’d bring him back there and kill him. They told him to leave Nairobi if he wanted to stay alive. “The last time we saw him was that day in 2017. He was really shaken. He said he was going back to shags, Nairobi had become too dangerous.”

Meanwhile Frank was still smoking weed occasionally and spraying himself before he got home because wives can smell deceit and bullshit, perfumes that don’t belong to you, strange soaps, sweet smelling hand lotions and hugs. He was hiding from her.

He had to change his business model. He struck a deal with his pedi. He told him he would not be involved with buying the weed anymore. Instead, he would loan him an amount of money, like a capital investment, and the pedi would use it to buy the weed, sell it and in turn he would remit a certain amount of money to him every week for a year. The math added up. He turned into a financier, as opposed to a dealer. So every week he would get his share of the cut. I asked him how he trusted the guy enough to expect his cut weekly.

“Well, some weeks he would claim to have had bad sales but I made my money back in a few weeks time and what I was getting was purely profit, so I wasn’t stressing. Besides, he always paid me my share.” Sounds like something from an episode of Sopranos, the honour thing.

This went on smoothly for a while and would have gone on forever if a friend of his – a nutritionist – had not told him about her cancer patient who was undergoing chemo and had zero appetite, flesh falling off her bones.

“She asked me if I could get her weed, which she would extract and mix with porridge for this patient. It seemed like an okay idea, so I started handling weed again, supplying her. Amazingly her patient – who didn’t know that her porridge had weed – started getting an appetite and eating and putting on some weight,” he says.  “Everything was fine. I was happy, my friend was happy and the cancer patient was even happier, all the time taking our weed.” He laughs.

Things took a turn when one day the cancer patient’s 8-year old daughter took the same porridge by mistake and the lady’s husband noticed that their daughter was acting funny – she was spaced out. On investigation, he found out that the porridge had weed and he hit the roof. The nutritionist was fired and Frank lost that, erm, account.

And when it rains it pours because soon after his wife found weed in one of his bags and was so mad she took pictures that she sent to his family members. “She was so angry. She felt cheated. We had a row. I was angry that she involved my whole family in this. She said she was not going to raise her child with a weed dealer. I asked her how she thought I sustained the family on a lousy bank salary. ‘You have seen my payslip. How do you think all this is paid for? How do you think I paid for your maternity and stuff? How do you think I pay for everything in this house?’”

She didn’t care; she packed her bags and left in an Uber, took his son with her. “That day I remember crying because of losing my son. The house became so empty,” he says.

His mother was even more disappointed to hear that he was dealing weed. The night she came to see him after his wife left, they spoke for many hours and she was categorical; “You have to stop selling weed. It’s not who we are. It’s not how I raised you. It’s wrong. If you want money I can be giving you money, but you are not a drug dealer.”

“My mother is everything, man. I even have a tattoo of her here.” He shows me a tattoo of his mom’s name. “She was disappointed in me given that she had struggled to raise us after my father died. She said that my wife was right, that selling drugs was like being a drug dealer.” So he stopped dealing.

“Do you think you were a drug dealer?”

“No. I was selling a product with less effects than ciggies,” he says. “I don’t see how she couldn’t understand that I was making sacrifices for the family that I would never make for anyone else. I wasn’t going to make ends meet with my bank salary. We were going to starve.”

“Would you recommend weed to your own son?” I ask.  

“If he is underage, no!”

“So if he was 18 would you be fine with him smoking weed.? An adult can smoke weed.”

He pauses. He’s looking faraway where his teleprompter is. His brow has a thin film of perspiration. He shrugs and says it’s a matter of perception, like the chicken and egg. He has no regrets selling weed to provide for his family. He doesn’t see himself as a drug dealer because “weed isn’t like cocaine or heroin.” He asks me if I think El Chapo’s wife saw him as a drug dealer or as a provider. He can’t get over the fact that his wife tarnished his name to his family members. That she refused to come back. He thinks her punishment was too severe for the transgression. “I think she left for other reasons, not because of weed. I think she left because she found me young. She was a few years older than me. Maybe she found me childish. I don’t know.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes. I miss how she challenged me to be better at work and even as a person. During the time we were together I grew. Friendship came before love for the two of us. We still talk and laugh. We don’t hate each other.”

He sees his son all the time. When he talks about his son he smiles that sweet boyish smile. When we leave he gives Wanjiku a stick of weed. He calls it a flower. “Tell me what you think,” he tells her.

Frank is now a full-time banker with no distractions. His phone never rings with updates from his pedi. He wears a tie daily, something he hates because a tie, he says, represents “slavery.” Which means he feels imprisoned in that job. So after working hours, he leaves his tie in his drawer and he’s free. He’s 27-years old and separated. He still smokes weed occasionally. He’s a father who lost because of “providing” for his family.  At 27-years he also has that laissez-faire thing going on; maybe he will meet another woman and marry her, maybe he will just stay the way he is. I ask him if he smoked something before coming to meet me because he had said he was nervous. He says he wishes he had smoked something earlier today because “bank clients are a pain in the ass.”

Well, for now his nose is clean. He wears a tie and politely tells those clients, “Please sign here, here and here.”

                                 ***

I feel bad that I have no announcement to make here today; the writing masterclass is on tomorrow and I have enough Men and Marriage  interviews to last another month. So perhaps I should just say that if you are not underweight, haven’t been in jail the last ten days, or doesn’t do drugs, haven’t had sex lately with anyone who takes money or drugs or other payment for sex, or is breastfeeding could you kindly go donate blood at any major hospital? There is someone who will lose a lot of blood during surgery this weekend and they will need your blood more than you will. Plus they will give you a cold Fanta after you donate.    

What does a married woman really want?

What do men do when darkness beckons? When winter closes in on them? When their unhappiness starts making their fingernails grow slower and their pillows get harder? When their wedding rings become hollow metaphors, a mockery of vows? When their marriages that once promised to flourish forever, like they promised God and man, now start disintegrating like a cork coming apart in the hands of a poor wine opener? When, unconsciously, this state starts showing in their choice of their wardrobe; darker ties, duller shirts and socks that start getting darker and darker, a river of misery. When they wake up one day and their unhappy marriages have seeped into everything they do like an ugly cancer. When even when they go to the golf course to find peace and quiet or whatever it is golfers go to find on the course, their swing, once the envy of peers, is now  weighed down by the ennui of that marriage.

And then one day, while they are driving from school, in that twilight zone where they are aware they are driving but not aware that they are alive, their son suddenly asks, “Daddy, why are you sad?” And that question chokes them with burning self-pity so much so that they momentarily look away from their son, in shame, for exposing this ugly stain of unhappiness in the presence of this beautiful and innocent boy they want to protect from the cruelty of world’s realities.

Do you sometimes wonder why someone decided that envy is green in colour? And cowardice is yellow and boredom is brown and that if you are “blue” you are sad? Most importantly, can you read deep unhappiness in an email?

I can.

Well, sometimes.

And I love it. I get drawn to unhappiness, curious about it’s source. It makes me want to follow it like an explorer follows a river inland to find where it stems from. Then I want to light a small fire and camp there.

The sadness in this  email (his) was in the way the writer used words that didn’t seem to like each other, their rhythm broken, like musical notes that refuse to blend. It’s also how fast he wrote it, how the words haemorrhaged out of him from a wound someone was still cutting. His words were opaque, weary and raw, straight from that part of the heart that pumps deoxygenated blood – blood that is dying from asphyxia. He wrote it fast because he didn’t want to acknowledge its source, its truth, because then he’d be giving that unhappiness volume. And when he ended his email, he cut his thoughts abruptly the way you would close the door of a lavatory, embarrassed, when you realize there is someone inside.

He’s 48-years old and works for a multinational. So does his wife. He says in the email that from the outside they look like a power couple making moves -two children, a paid for house, a fairly lavish lifestyle – but inside, things are tumbling down like a house of cards. He’s unhappy. He wrote, “I think in the modern age there is a big disconnect between our women’s expectations of us as men and what we are able to deliver.” I nodded reading this – which was as useless a gesture as insisting on looking at the radio while listening to it.

To arrange a meeting he sent me a calendar invite. A calendar invite for Pete’s sake! I have never had anyone I’m interviewing for the blog send me a calendar invite. I wanted to borrow Fred’s ankara bow tie for the meeting. He has this one bowtie that he wears when going to ask someone for a bagful of money. The interviewee indicated strict anonymity and even went ahead to choose a name I should use. You will never guess. Actually you can; Paul.

Paul! For the love of God!  

Of all the names that anyone could choose – Gerald, Jermaine, Koko – he picked the vanilla of names. It’s like ordering chips and sausages.

Anyway, we meet at The Gallery, in Sankara. I get there before him and sit against the window at the table at the far corner, my back to the wall like Jack Bauer told us to. I settle for a juice because the whisky I normally drink is almost one thousand bob a tot here and my stature doesn’t allow me such liberties. Behind the soundproof glass the after-work foot migration head back to where they will gather around fires and family like man has done for centuries. Paul sends a text saying he will be ten minutes late, so I try calling my home girl, Joyce, who works at the hotel, to come down for a laugh. She’s mteja. (Wangui, you okay? I tried calling you. Goch’na)

Like a Swiss train, Paul walks in exactly ten minutes later as promised.

“I’m a good man, I want to believe,” he starts, placing an open palm against his chest. I don’t know why people don’t touch their heads instead when they say something like that. It’s always the chest, maybe because that’s where the heart lives and it’s the heart that dictates goodness, not the head. Anyway, he’s a good man. [Touch chest]. “I’m a mild drinker. I used to smoke, I don’t anymore, ten years now. I don’t chase women. I’m not a batterer. I’m a good father. I have a good relationship with my in-laws. I take care of the bedroom. I provide for my family. But no matter what I do, anything I do at all, it’s never enough for my wife!”

“Right. What’s her grouse?” [I wanted to use the word famous in that question, like “What’s her famous grouse?”, but we hadn’t warmed up enough for such cheesy jokes].

“There is never enough money to make her happy. We have made some sound investments over time and for the most part they have worked well. However, we have reached a situation where we are asset rich but somewhat cash poor. This has made things worse since my wife ties her wellbeing to having cash and it has affected how she views me and the marriage.”

“Why do you think she’s like that?”

“I actually think money’s where all this stems from; I grew up in an upper middle class background, schooled and lived abroad for almost all my life. She, on the other hand, grew up in a single-parent home. Her father left them when they were young and her mom struggled to raise them.  So for her, money is security while for me it seems money is simply a means. I’m an optimist, she’s a pessimist. And this money thing has really affected our marriage so much so that she can now go three months without talking to me. All we talk about …when we do, is money, the kids or the home. But even worse than that she criticizes me and everything I do and nothing I do seems to please her, not one thing, and I ask myself, what am I doing wrong? What more do I have to do to make her treat me with dignity? I check off the things that I’m doing right, Biko; we live in a nice neighborhood, we have two nice cars, I’m the kind of father who bathes his kids, I make breakfast every Saturday morning while she sleeps, while most men I know are nursing a hangie or even never showed up at home! As in when she wakes up and finds breakfast ready do you know what she says when she sits at the table?”

These are quite sumptuous, darling, thank you, I made the right choice marrying you. I would choose you again if I had to! Thank you! In fact, come back to the bedroom I show you in kind, because my momma told me that words are cheap?

“What does she say?” I ask instead.

“She criticizes the breakfast! Because the eggs are not done right or the pancake is too fluffy!” He throws his hands in the air. “She never gives any compliments. If I am to compare my involvement in the house with that of other guys, come on, man, I’m doing much better at that job. Look,” he leans in. I lean in instinctively. “I’m doing everything that we are told a man should do; I provide, I’m this good father, I serve her. Yet she treats me like this. But you know what baffles me the most? I see guys who are the opposite of me, they don’t do shit at home, they run around shagging girls, but their wives seem to appreciate them, yet I, who does things by the book, my wife thinks I’m no good?!!”

I laugh at that. Not to belittle his feelings, but because of the way he puts it. You had to be there, you would have laughed too.

“What do women want?!” he asks, his voice a pitch higher. “Because we can never achieve those goals.” His juice is set down on a coaster. He nods a thank you at the barman and when he leaves, Paul ploughs on.  “She insisted on us building a house in shags, for instance, and because I’m this guy who wants his wife happy, I built a 3 million shilling house in a place we visit twice a year because, come on, my folks live in Kileleshwa. Even they don’t go to shags that often. What is the opportunity cost of building a house like that in shags? But even that house doesn’t make her happy. You know when she was young auctioneers came to their house and took away their property. I’m sure that’s traumatizing but I keep telling her that I’m not her dad, I’m not going to l…”

I raise my hand from the table like I want permission to say something. He stops.

“Here is an alternative thought. The things you mention are just that, things. What if that’s not what will make her happy? What if it’s not a house that makes her happy. They [women] always say we have to fill their cup of emotions – well, I think it’s bottomless. Is there a chance that you could be going about this the wrong way and are filling the wrong cup?”

He tilts his head slightly to the side, like he’s just made a comma using his head. “She knows I love her. She knows I love her because I tell her that I love her. We used to do things together…we’d go on dates at least once a month. Every year I take the family for a holiday. Church is important to her so I choose to take it seriously even though I’m in a crisis of faith somewhat at this moment in my life. I have made what’s important to her important to me but it’s not enough and I feel unappreciated. I’m not enough for her.”

“I’m not a perfect guy but I would like to be supported even when I may be wrong,” he says. “ I want someone who believes in me and who else should that be if not my wife?” I want to say, “Yourself, only Paul can believe in you! “ but that will sound so Joel Osteen-like.

“I want my wife to believe in me because she married me and her heart should be in the right place,” he says.

“Does she believe in you?”

“No. She second guesses everything I do. There is nothing I can ever do right in her eyes. Tell you what, we can be driving, I’m behind the wheel, she is in the passenger seat and when I hit a pothole she makes these snide remarks to make me feel like I can’t even drive. I mean, it’s not like I go looking for potholes to drive into! I mean, sometimes it’s good to just let some things be, but she doesn’t. She seems to look for any opportunity to put me down. I really think there are men who do worse things that drive into potholes, to be honest. Husbands not hitting potholes is not the type of thing marriages thrive on.” Pause. “I’m trying to make the marriage work but I seem to be alone in this. How many of our friends are divorced or separated? Many! Her siblings? None is married. Some are separated, some never got married, one keeps changing wives. You would think she would look around her and think, gee, this man of mine isn’t too bad after all. But no.”

He says that he is the one who goes for all the children’s school activities; prize giving, sports day, open days, swimming galas. He takes cake to the school during birthdays, waiting around to cut it, sing and blow balloons. “When I go to these school events, I’m always one of the three dads at the function.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like you.” I say it so abruptly that it surprises even me.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You know how you can have a mother who is evil and with a bad heart, treating everyone like shit? But she is your mom and you love her but you don’t like her as a person? Maybe your wife stopped liking you at some point. Sometimes I suspect that some of women just wake up one day and think I love this guy but I don’t like him anymore, and then they start hating everything about us, that even the act of us chewing food itself irritates them….”

“Actually she even hates when I chew…”

I laugh and say I was just joking about that chewing part.

“No, really, she does.”

“She hates how you chew?”

“She does.” Long sigh. A glance out the window. The streetlights are now on. “My question is, do you separate on that basis? I don’t know.”

Paul was married before. He was young then, 29 and living abroad. The woman cheated on him so he divorced her. It was a traumatic experience, going through the divorce, something that took so much from him that he is reluctant to go down that road again. He’s hanging onto this marriage, clutching onto it and it’s taking a toll on his self-esteem. His wife is shrinking him with a word here, a sigh there, rolled eyes over there and most of all, the wall of silence that she has built around her. He’s trying to stay the course, but the wheels are slowly coming off.

“What I’m trying to do now is to get affirmation in fatherhood, in my children, that I am worthy as a person, as a man, and that I’m doing one thing right. My children love me. At work, my colleagues respect me. I manage big teams all over Africa yet somehow that doesn’t bring the same satisfaction, somehow I still feel like less of a man…”

“When did she start changing? I mean, has she always been like this?”

He thinks about it for a bit, clutching his glass of juice as if trying to warm it with his body heat. “We have been married for ten years now and things were good the first three years but then I started seeing this attitude towards money.”

Conversations with his wife during the day have dwindled to nothing. He likes phone-calls, she likes messages. The last message she sent was the previous day about groceries. He says he’s not a big subscriber of what men should do in the house and what women should do. He pays school fees, buys groceries and makes investments. They live in their own home, which he paid the deposit for but because she was earning more at that time, she took over the mortgage.

“Has she ever been a warm or loving person?” I ask because now I’m thinking of her as a block of ice.

“Not extremely. I mean, she was never going to be the woman who helps you get your coat off at the end of the day and make you tea,” he says.

I don’t even think those women are out there. I think the last one was sighted on State House avenue circa 1998. She had a red scarf around her neck. The other day I heard one was also spotted on Mombasa road but the source was drunk so we can’t record that sighting. Now everybody removes their own coat and warms their own food.

“Do you think she loves you?”

He stares hard at a spot and then looks up. “I don’t know. That’s a tough question.”

“Do you feel loved?”

“No.”

“Do you feel liked?”

“No.”

“Do you think she is happy?”

“No,” he mumbles.

‘What do you think is causing her unhappiness??”

He crosses his hands across the chest in a cliché body-language kind of way.

“I think she is unhappy that I’m not meeting her expectations.”

“Do you know how she likes to be loved? As in what’s her language of love?”

“Words of affirmation.”

He says he hasn’t spoken to anyone about this. Not his closest friends, nobody. I ask him what has to happen now for this marriage to work and with his hands still crossed across his chest, he says for sure that it’s not more money. “It doesn’t matter how much I make, money will never make her happy. They say the number one issue in marriage is money, whether you have less of it or more of it.” Pause. “I don’t think any amount of money will fix this marriage. What will fix this marriage for me is if she starts appreciating me, not as a perfect man but as a man who tries his best.”

“Is this the end of the rope?” I ask him.

“I have some rope left. When you have children you don’t run out of rope fast. You sacrifice your happiness for them. I think it is the right decision for me now because I don’t have the fortitude to leave. I’m trying to balance my personal happiness and the happiness of those around me.”

In his email Paul had mentioned that he had yet to stray but was thinking about it. He now says it was a thought he considered, toyed with, but didn’t go through with it because he doesn’t “go to nightclubs anymore.” I silently chuckle at that purity. As if men who have affairs only meet these girls in nightclubs. That sounds so 1976, like meeting girls in a “disco.”

“Tell me something nice about her. What do you like about her?” I ask.

“She’s resilient.” He pauses and thinks hard. “Attractive. When things are good we have some very good conversations. You know, the funny thing is that even though we come from the same tribe and area in shags, we seem to have different outlooks in life.”

I ask him what he thinks she would complain about him if I asked her what frustrates her in the marriage. “She is not happy with my involvement in the spiritual life of the family. Faith is key to her but for me I have had a checkered spiritual life, it’s not agnostic, but it might be in a few years or so. I’m a logical thinker, have you read Sapiens by Yuval Noah? Fantastic book. Look I have done whatever I can. I’m the one who wakes up every Saturday morning to take our child to catechism classes. Is that not involvement enough? I also think she would say that I’m not a good financial planner and that she might not have confidence in my financial leadership of the family. Which is unwarranted because we save in treasury bills, we have paid off the house, we have invested in real estate….is that not planning enough?”

“How do you personally think you fail as a husband?”

“I guess I don’t communicate. I don’t tell her what’s going on in my mind as I should though that’s because how I process things is different from the way she does. The fundamental issue seems to be her past, this fear that everything will come tumbling down, so she requires me to have a plan A to F and to review it every month like she does. I have a fundamental belief that things will be fine. She disagrees.”

We have been talking for two hours. I pay the bill. We stand outside in the parking lot, talking. He thinks that marriages should be like a driver’s licence which you renew upon expiry. “I think people should get married in blocks of five years. At the end of the fifth year you all sit down and decide if both of you want to renew your marriage. If one partner doesn’t, the marriage ends. That way nobody has to feel compelled to stay married if it’s not working for them.”

***