Moving ahead

Dear Sophia—

I guess you must be very busy. It’s funny but the situation reminds me of that video – and song – by Eminem and Dido: Stan. Well… In fact, that’s not so funny. It’s a mad cruel story.

To be honest, I can’t imagine you’re that busy. I guess separation does what it does: every partner comes with a bit of a crowd, and those crowds separate when partners separate. I am sorry things did not work out with Maria. I don’t really know when and why things went south, so I can’t explain. Not exactly, that is. It just happened—or perhaps not: relations happen, and then they don’t. One needs to work to sustain them. All I know, is that I had to go. I had to get out of the situation I was in: depressed, in the strange capital city of an even stranger country. I didn’t feel at home. Home is where your partner is, right? It wasn’t for me.

As you may gather from my occasional letters, I am still struggling. But then I know I have to move on. I shouldn’t be lingering here. My book project kept me busy, but didn’t help much in terms of finding some new structure—some new meaning. I’ve started looking for jobs, and I have registered for a program that will, hopefully, help me to deal with my demons.

I’ll turn 50 two weeks from now. I want to clean the house for that party. And then I want to count down again: 49, 48, 47, etcetera. I know it doesn’t work that way, but I can try, right? 🙂

If you don’t mind, I’ll continue to use this site to write from time to time. Or perhaps I’ll just close it down. This blog served its purpose, I guess. Sophia means wisdom. Rather than inspiration, we should, perhaps, be seeking wisdom at our age, right?

Take care—Albert

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Starting over again…

Dear Sophia—

You have not written for a long time now. Nothing to write? I hope you don’t mind I will continue to write from time to time, even if you are a bit of an imaginary person to write to now. But then, one day, we all become some imaginary person, don’t we?

For the time being, I am still real. Struggling with disappointment, trying to get up, and start another life. There is some good news here. I think I am on top of my drinking problem. It was a weird thing. I have had trouble coping with stress all of my life, professionally or family-wise, and I guess I just copied the behavior of my dad, as he coped with that too—so I am behaving exactly the same as someone whom I don’t want to imitate. It’s like trying to avoid an obstacle in a narrow street while you’re driving too fast, or when not sober: the more you look at it, the more chance of hitting it.

It’s not that I wasn’t good at what I was doing. No. Not at all, actually. I’ve always been the best. Part of the problem is that eternal drive for perfection. High performers always have trouble accepting the inevitable imperfections.

When does a habit become an addiction? And when is an addiction harmful? I mean, alcohol is a social addiction but—as a social addiction—it is not harmful. I guess it becomes harmful when it’s your only way of coping with depression. Typically when you drink alone to get through the evening or the night, for example. I’ve come to the conclusion that, unlike what many people would think, there is actually always a good reason to start drinking, but, yes, there is, perhaps, no good reason to continue drinking. However, once you’re there—once it has become second nature—you need an even better reason than the one that got you going to quit.

Fortunately, I have a good reason to quit. My kids are here, in Belgium, and I need to look good and strong so as to make sure they don’t worry about me. Kids shouldn’t worry about their parents. That’s just not how life is meant to be. Or perhaps it is, but I don’t want it to be that way.

I want to die like my mom did—one day, but not now. She said goodbye in a powerful gesture. She greeted Death in the most cheerful of manners and only asked one favor: she wanted to chose the moment herself. So she did, and we were all with her. I don’t want to copy my dad. I got many of his greatest talents and gifts—including that desire that often drives me crazy: I want to understand. I want to truly understand.

That often drives me nuts. The book I am going to publish on quantum mechanics could only have been written because of those long and lonely nights, fueled by alcohol to soothe the pain in my heart and in my soul. It was born out of darkness. I don’t want to do such things anymore. I want life to be good, so I’ll try to be good to myself.

I’ll turn 50 later this month. I want to count down again after reaching that milestone: I just want to turn back and count down again. 49, 48, 47, etcetera. I want to be on top of Mont Blanc again one day. I will.

I hope you are well. You should keep inspiring.

Yours, Albert.

A new start!

The title above echoes the title of an earlier post—but I replaced the question mark by an exclamation mark. 🙂

I really want to make a new start by changing one or more keystone habits. I have tried to do that repeatedly over the past year, but I failed. I like to think I am a strong and independent individual—and that my mind should rule over my body. It doesn’t. I’ve had some health issues lately. Relatively minor ones, all of which can be solved by a bit of dieting and daily exercise. But the power of habit is strong. In fact, it has been stronger than myself over the past few months. Why?

In my previous post, I noted that I don’t accept the hasty conclusions of psychologists and researchers who tell us that consciousness is just an epiphenomenon—that is, somehow, not realFree will is real. Full stop. It emerges, somehow, in that discursive and associative logic that characterizes our thought processes and, hence, it’s as real as emotions or perceptions as far as I am concerned. I should just keep quoting those wise words on the relations between thoughts, words, actions, habits and character.

Watch your thoughts, because thoughts become words.

Watch your words, because words become actions.

Watch your actions, because actions become habits.

Watch your habits, because habits become character.

Watch your character, because character becomes destiny.

What a beautiful way of expressing how the law of cause and effect (or the law of karma, if you prefer Buddhist terminology) actually operates in our personal life ! There is a logic, indeed, in what we do and who or what we become. While, at times, we may think there is no escape from that logic, our destiny is not inevitable. We can change the logic. We take decisions. Our mind is free and, therefore, we are free.

I just need to keep telling myself that over and over again, and all will be alright. 🙂

Staying busy

Dear Sophia—

It is rather heartwarming to see your anger and passion about what happens in the US. I left Washington DC a few months ago, and I felt relieved when the plane took off so I could stop worrying about it. 🙂

I have been wandering around. The wandering included a wonderful trip with my son. We motorbikes through the Indian Himalayas—Kinnaur, Spiti, Lahaul, Ladakh, and Kashmir. My version of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I guess. 🙂 I read a few good books along the way. Herman Hesse, of course. Re-reading Siddharta or Narcissus and Goldmund is always refreshing. I also bought some more recent books along the way, such as Hariri’s Homo Deus. Yes. A bestseller, and deservedly so.

I loved it. It wasn’t so much the broader picture he paints, but the little factoids (and the way he arranges them to produce a remarkably smooth story) that got me hooked. Most notably, what he writes on consciousness and awareness is very fascinating. He basically analyzes it as a epiphenomenon of our… Well… Unconsciousness. 🙂 Recent brain research (such as the research done by Dr. Morsella and his team) shows that, we think we make a decision, we are actually only becoming aware of it: our unconscious mind has already made it. The neurons light up before we think we made the decision. Before. Not during, or after. No. Before. He concludes freedom of choice is just a myth we need to ground our morals and values so we can justify why we put someone in prison (i.e. take his or her freedom away), for example.

I am not so sure the findings destroy the idea of personal freedom: I still like to think we can still change bad habits, for instance—because we can think about them in a process that is far more elaborate than just choosing this or that color, or opting for a croissant rather than a pain au chocolat today—but… Well… It made me think I should try harder, because I still have a lot of bad habits. 🙂

It also makes me think we probably need a new framework for thinking about morals and values in society—and how we can contribute by making the right choices. In that regard, all he writes about us being so ‘social media-obsessive’ nowadays surely rings a bell. In fact, I felt like switching off Facebook for a while, but then I am too addicted, I guess. 

It also made me think about what understanding really means, and I am going to think about that in the coming days. I’ll keep you posted on any insights I may or may not gain. In the meanwhile, please keep writing !

Yours—Albert

Storm Clouds Looming

20180627_180041 (1)I was working on other things while as if on purpose, I kept toggling over the word tab. The glaring white of the blank reminding me of my dereliction. My mind is not here today, it is thousands of miles away on the U.S./Mexico border. Utterly disgusted, dejected, furious, frustrated with the unbelievable and unrelenting flow of news these past weeks. A sickening wave of unbelievably heinous policies and characters tearing at the fabric of my beliefs. The retirement of Justice Kennedy the latest gut punch.

My friends are at home protesting the abhorrent immigration laws at the child encampment in Tornillo, involved in vital campaigns, volunteering to help mediating the frantic search to reunite mother and child. Oddly, my usual guilt-ridden self has been kept at bay. Instead there is a sense of relief that my hiatus includes a break from the collective sorrow of friends bemoaning the future. At least here I am surrounded by Mexicans lamenting their bleak future. While my stay here will most likely be temporary there is some solace in knowing that this is an excellent hideout from the madness that has become our reality.

How do you decide when to run and when to fight? It’s easy for me to make excuses for sitting on the sidelines and no one would question them or expect otherwise. Its an easy pass. For someone who was happiest in the trenches this new role as a voyeur is an adjustment. I’ll have to figure out new parameters for contributing because I know this is not the time to retreat and lick our wounds, there is too much at stake. After November, that may be another story.

Here’s to Trying New Things.

I am a fraud. Even in blogging I have been an imposter.

I have said all the right things, laid out the foundation for true introspection but continue to edit thoughts in my head; sifting through words like an interior designer considering paint swatches. My need to analyze, control, evident on the page. Writing from the heart should induce word vomit. A desire to expel thoughts onto the page which forces my fingers to flay wildly across the keyboard in order to keep up.

I am approaching my trial relocation with an open mind, eager to try and learn new things. There are lots of people here willing to help you reconnect with your body and spirit. I am learning about chakras and numerology. Here again, mental me struggles not to dismiss their hippy dippy propositions for positive change outright. Some I have adopted. I now talk to cannabis, asking my weed to heal me and inspire me before partaking (can’t hurt). But there are limits to my inquisitiveness. When I was asked during yesterday’s massage if I would like spearmint dabbed on my clitoris? “Why would I want that?” I asked, decidedly certain that I did not know this woman well enough. Some explanation about energy and a slight burning but all I could think of was why she would want to fish around for any of her client’s clits?

Not what I set out to write about today. Am I writing from the heart or stalling?

Pushing the Reset Button

A lady I had never met told me today she loved living near the ocean, “when I am feeling sad I come to the  beach to cry. My tears wash away and I can get on with my life” she said pointing into the vastness of the Pacific. I’m not sure why she chose to share this with me but it makes perfect sense, our bodies need to release, purge, detox, whatever you want to call it, in order for our minds to be clear.

My new massage therapist/ spiritual advisor also had a long list of recommendations for releasing years of toxic buildup; liver detox, visit to a temascal, vegan food. But I rather like the idea of my tears swirling around in the ocean, riding the waves and colliding occasionally with similar sorrows abandoned by their previous owners.

This space is my place to detox, to shout out into the vastness of the internet, regardless of who is listening, perhaps colliding with other thoughts cast away by those with their own stories.

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