Seeds, spirals and simplicity
Reading some diaries and writings of my past it is interesting to see how my consciousness today is embedded in them. I can trace most of my ideas in an almost spiral movement back through time. I can see the exact points in time where various experiences led to various revelations, seeding ideas that have slowly sprouted and are now continuing to grow.
For example, in August 2008 I wrote for the first time about poverty. It was the first time, without reading the academic theorists who made these points, that I realised the purpose of poverty, and the dangers that result:
28 August 2008
I just realised for the first time that governments have actually set up systems the way they are on purpose. Our governments wanted to take over the world, have people working for them, and that is what they have achieved.
We have some horrible ancestors, but their attitude was fairly consistent with attitudes at that time: of expansion, conquer and ownership of the world.
The way the world is right now has grown from their dreams, visions and plans.
After colonialism of places like India and China was abandoned, and the slave trade in Africa abolished, a new form of world conquer begun: Capitalism.
Our ancestors figured out that they could achieve the same goals in a new way, by manipulating markets, energy and development, and rule countries without occupying them. From abroad they could manage and manipulate millions of people, have them work 14 hour days for them, and pay them next to nothing. They could suck out the resources from countries in the same manner.
And today it continues. It’s not just our ancestors, but it’s us as well. It’s us that reap the benefits but consuming ridiculous quantities of products every day, at cheap costs. We need these slaves in poor countries to work for nothing so that we can have so many things for so cheap. We are driving the gap between rich and poor. Everytime we buy something cheap, someone else pays the price.
It’s not sustainable in every part of the chain.
1 Our resources are running out
2 Our slaves will eventually turn on us
3 Our consumption still isn’t satisfying us – happiness decreasing, suicide and depression aboud
4 Our pollutants are killing our atmosphere, warming and destroying our planet
What do we do about it?
WAKE UP.
First we must seek out truth about all these factors. Not live in the fantasy world that our ancestors, governments and big corporations have created for us. We must try to understand the dynamics of these international relations, and make a stand for equality among all humanity. We must come together and find solutions to this linear process before we smash into the wall. Solutions do exist or can be found to turn the linear into a circle, so that we can continue to live on this planet for many generations to come.
…
Having since conducted research and written detailed essays on the subject, my conclusions haven’t changed. Strangely enough even although my newer writing is backed by statistics and references, I think this simple reflection is more to the point than anything I’ve written since.
Photo credit:
Rachel Carroll – Sydney artist (and travel companion) – some kind of beautiful flower taken somewhere in South America http://rachelcarroll.com.au/
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Lifting the veils, peeling the onion
As we walk through time our view of the world is constantly in flux. One day I think this, the next day I think that – nothing is ever static. There is always something new to learn, and that new thing might well knock down a wall that previously blurred your view.
The problem, it seems, is that more veils that are lifted, the more one wonders how many layers still remain. Slowly through our lives, and probably through our death, the facades that surround us are exposed. We slowly peel down the layers of the onion, and maybe only in death do we discover our true core.
For me, this unveiling process began with some radical realisations surrounding the religion of my upbringing. I was born into a religion. By that I mean I was brought up being told that religion was Truth. I could accept it (and go to heaven) or reject it (and go to hell). With no seemingly comparative alternatives on offer, I chose the former: I accepted it with a full heart, adopted it as part of my identity, and used it as a framework to evaluate my surroundings and give my life some purpose.
As I “grew up” and my social network widened, this framework evolved. I started to question. The first veil lifted.
I looked out at the world with new eyes, curious about the beliefs of other cultures and past civilisations, curious to understand how different groups have evolved to see the world so differently. I started to question:
- How do I know if a story is true or false?
- How can I evaluate right from wrong?
- If evangelising to the world is not my life purpose, then what is?
Ahead of me I saw a much bigger more dynamic world, albeit more scary it was beautiful and exciting.
As I learned about history and science and culture, I began to look at them more critically. My favourite analogy for this is to think of it as analysing the “stories” that they are made of. As I pulled them apart I realised that every story has its biases. There is a story behind every story.
Every story is the result of events that have occurred throughout history – that all aspects of our lives come from our ancestors and how they adapted to fit environmental changes, or how we are taking this position and adapting to changes in our environment.
I guess that what has led me to philosophy. It seems the question at the onion’s core is: What is “reality”?
Slowly, slowly, I feel I am getting closer to determining what it means (to me) to be “alive”. Or at least I’m figuring out what story of reality makes the most sense to me.
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A big thumbs down.
So the other day I’m in a bar and I run into a student from a Pilates class I used to teach. We have a nice catchup and he asks for my number. Without much thought I give it to him – not cause I want to see him again unless it’s at a pilates class – I guess I was just being polite. Exactly one week later I get a mysterious call from a private number. No-one says anything so after a few ‘hello?’ … ‘hellooo???’ s I hang up. The next morning my phone rings and it’s a private number again.
‘Hello?’ I ask
‘Hello’ says a young sounding Japanese voice. ‘Who is this?’
‘Ah, who is this??’ I reply.
‘It’s Mika.’
‘I think you have the wrong number,’ Not knowing a Mika. ‘Who are you looking for?’
‘Ah, Isabelle?’
‘Sorry, you have the wrong number.’ I say. And I hang up.
A few hours later the private number appears for third time.
‘Hello…’ I answer.
‘Hello. I called before.’
‘Yes…’
‘I’m actually wondering what your relationship is with Chris?’ she says, in a gentle yet slightly accusingly tone of voice.
‘Ah, Chris who?’ I ask.
‘Chris Keats.’
‘Sorry, I don’t know a Chris Keats.’ I say honestly.
‘You didn’t meet him on Thursday night?’
Trying to remember what happened on Thursday I say, ‘Ah, no, I don’t think so. What was Thursday night?’
‘I have messages from you on his phone.’
‘Chris Michaels?’ I ask, that’s the only Chris I know. Then it dawns on me. Last Thursday night I was at the bar in Manly.
‘Oh I know, I think you are talking about the Chris I teach Pilates to.’
‘Teach Pilates to?’
‘Well, I used to. Then I went overseas. I ran into Chris in Wharf Bar last Thursday.’ Suddenly I remember our texts.
Realising what was going on – why this chick was calling me, I continue, ‘He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him but I said no.’ Then softly, I ask, ‘Are you his girlfriend?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s shit! Guys are fucked.’ I really hit the fan. ‘I’m really sorry. Nothing happened on the night, we just talked. And I don’t want to see him or anything. But that’s really shit that he did that to you.’
‘It’s ok, I’m going to leave him anyway. I just wanted to know.’
‘Well I hope things work out for you.’ And with that I hang up.
Like the equator monument in Ecuador that was built a few hundred meters off the equator, men (and women) like this get a big thumbs down.
Note: this story came from my random writings from 2009 and names have been changed.
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Resolution Theory
So I (finally) finished reading Shantaram!!! It is a very long book, but well worth the time.
My favourite parts, besides Gregory David Robert’s incredible use of adjectives, is the philosophy of life that Khader Bhai, the Mafia don, shares with Lin. Khader Bhai calls it Resolution Theory, and I think it’s pretty similar to my own philosophy that I, for fun, labeled “Creativism”. While Resolution Theory relates good and evil to the tendency toward or away from complexity, I like to think of it (which is for sure inspired by books I’ve read even if I can’t remember which exact ones), as the tendency to be Creative or Destructive. (Click here to check out the post: creativism-a-philosophy-for-life)
“The whole universe is moving toward some ultimate complexity. This has been going on since the universe began, and physicists call it the tendency toward complexity. And… anything that kicks this along and helps it is good, and anything that hinders it is evil… And this final complexity… it can be called God or the Universal Spirit, or the Ultimate Complexity, as you please. For myself, there is no problem in calling it God. The whole universe is moving toward God, in a tendency toward the ultimate complexity that God is… In order to know about any act or intention or consequence, we must first ask two questions. One, what would happen if everyone did this thing? Two, would this help or hinder the movement toward complexity?’ p. 550-551.
And I think he makes a very good point when relating such philosophies to the various religious traditions:
“Every guru you meet and every teacher, every prophet and every philosopher should answer these two questions for you: What is an objective, universally acceptable definition of good and evil? And What is the relationship between consciousness and matter?... This is a test that you should apply to every man who tells you that he knows the meaning of life.” p. 708.
How do your beliefs perform in this test???
Photo Credits:
The creative fusion of photos and art is by: Gustavo Tomas Moreno. Check out more of his work on: www.yacophotographer.blogspot.com
More on Resolution Theory: http://www.julietbennett.com/2010/10/22/a-deeper-exploration-of-resolution-theory/
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Step away from the book…
My sprained ankle had it’s benefits – LOTS of time sitting on my arse. And so, one week ago, I finished my first draft of my first novel.
A first draft is a big achievement I suppose. The only problem is that it’s far too long and, as I decided once I started editing it, it’s also far too shit. As I read I crossed half the paragraphs out. Boring boring boring. The whole 690 page manuscript sucks.
When I finally allowed one of my friends to have a read I noticed something: he was laughing. He was laughing a lot.
“See all these bits you’ve crossed out – they’re really funny…”
I suppose that’s a good sign.
“You just need to take a long break from the book – read it in a few months time with fresh eyes.”
Easier said than done.
I want to give the manuscript to a few people to read and give me some for feedback on how I might be able to cut it in half. I also need to give it to people who are in the book, so they can decide if they want their name changed or details omitted.
But before I do anything I just want to add this… and change that… and edit this… and to a bit more research for that part…
“Step away from the book. Step away from the book… GIVE IT TO ME NOW!!!” Another friend demanded.
She was right to do so. This book is driving me crazy. I’m even editing it in my dreams. I’m going round in circles. I need to step away. I need to shut it away, at least for one month. I reluctantly handed her my only printed copy. Then I took the photographic storyboard down from my wall.
Now what??? This book has been my life for the last few months – what else am I supposed to do with my time? What is normal life like? My mind is blank.
Oh yeah, work. Earn a little dosh and stop eating up my savings. And I could, like, have fun. Read other people’s books, check out the art galleries near my place, watch movies, learn the guitar that’s been eyeing me since two Christmases ago. Try to get my uni dissertation published. And as soon as my ankle is better – start teaching pilates again, get my scuba-diving licence, get a scooter licence and a scooter. All the things I’ve been putting off for far too long.
So today’s the first day of a new life chapter. One that doesn’t revolve around this book. And I will to try my best not to look at the book for an entire month. Let’s see if I have more success with this pledge than I did my with my February detox (FYI I never got back on that horse…)
Video clip matching the second last chapter of my book:
Chapter 33: Redemption – Rio De Janeio
If you haven’t already, do check out the boy’s New York City to Rio blog: www.nyc2rio.com – there’s some amazing writing, photos and stories on there.
Music credits:
The Beatles – Revolution
Bob Marley & The Wailers – Redemption Song
Note:
Missing video-chapters have not been posted to prevent eluding a spoiler – I’m hoping you’ll read my book first!
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The Cyberspace Witchhunts
Lateline is an abc news show that I only ever watched with my Opa. We watched it most nights and from there we would talk about politics and the depressing state the world is heading toward. Before I moved in with Opa, I didn’t know the difference between liberal and labour. (Possibly there is no difference but at least I now know the difference that is supposed to exist.)
Since he died and I moved to the city I’ve enjoyed a break from almost everything. I escaped into the book I’m working on, and for three months I didn’t turn on the tv or read the paper.
Turning Lateline on a few nights ago was a big of a step for me. The next day I was walking through the local park, thinking about “CYBER-TERRORISM”, and I burst into tears. The tears should probably have been about the impending cyberspace witchhunt but they were still tears for my Opa. It’s so funny the little things that recoil memories and emotions from your past. But that’s ok, the strange little outburst was over a few seconds later. The impending cyberspace witchhunt, however, is not…
On lateline that night, the US Deputy Secretary of Defense, William Lynn, was talking about cyber-terrorism in a way that sounded like the Salem Witchhunts meets Minority Report – and it is pretty scary stuff.
I guess terrorism has always been a bit of a witch hunt, because, well, who get’s to call someone a terrorist? If I’m angry at someone can I call the US and will they send Tom Cruise to jump from a helicopter and take them away?
LEIGH SALES: In a speech on the weekend you said that the US Defence Department computer networks are probed thousands of times a day. By who, and is it possible to give any sort of profile of the average cyber terrorist, if there is such a thing?
WILLIAM LYNN: Well there really isn’t. One of the real characteristics of the cyber threat is the diversity that that threat can take. It can extend anywhere from foreign countries, their intelligence agencies, down through criminal organisations, terrorist organisations and even individual hackers. And each of those can have substantial capabilities and even those with modest resources can pose a threat.
…
LEIGH SALES: There’s a type of war game exercise going on in Washington tomorrow involving the White House and the FBI simulating a cyber terror attack. What are authorities hoping to get out of that?
WILLIAM LYNN: Well, it’s – what we’d like to see is a better understanding both of the kinds of attacks that can be undertaken, as well as what the appropriate responses are, and many of the things in the cyber world are not as well understood as we’d like them. Just, for example: what is an attack? Is it an intrusion in your computer? Is that an attack? Does it have to cause damage? Does it have to cause loss of life? When is an attack an attack?
…
Good questions Mr Lynn, but who’s going to provide the answers?
Full transcript available :
http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/content/2010/s2820486.htm
Photo credits:
Photographer Wendell Teodoro
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We are our own enemy
There is no such thing as enemies. They don’t exist UNLESS YOU CREATE THEM.
Australia sends “modern warrior’s”, off to “wage war against new and real threats” in the Middle East. Their mission is to: “kill the enemy,” “attack rogue states,” “stop terrorists,” and “protect our country and our way of life.”
Saddam Huisain and Osama bin Laden? Are they still alive? Who really knows? We do know for sure that they were once on the CIA payroll (I read that in academic peer-reviewed books) but other than that the stories blend together into a big pile of propaganda bullshit, excuse my language.
Ok, I get that Al Qaeda and the Taliban are a threats. But what’s our plan? To try to hunt them down and kill them all??? Come on get real! When has force ever solved anything? What do they really want? Yes, I know they want an Islamic world… But beneath this, when the religious and political indoctrination is stripped away, what is it they really want???
We are all human. Don’t you think they want the same as we want? Happiness and love and fulfillment and peace. Yet war strips all these things away to leave sadness, fear, destruction and violence. Not only for the people involved in the war – but for all people that inhabit this planet.
Sure something has to be done about terrorism but is polarising them as the “enemy” and sending soldiers with guns into foreign lands to hunt them down an intelligent way to go about it? How many billions of dollars go into “defence”? And how much money goes into addressing the points that terrorists are trying to make???
Wars are bullshit. Big boys at the top playing with human puppets. Creating enemies. Dividing the world up into “goodies” and “baddies” – declaring them as one then changing them to the other – depending where the oil and opium deposits take them.
What does it come down to? MONEY. GREED. POWER.
How could the money being used on arms and armed forces be used to delve into the issues – to work with psychologists and conflict analysts and dialogue groups to come up with real solutions?
I understand there are more layers and dynamics to the global stage than I will ever comprehend (least of not because much of it is top secret information I will never have access to)… what I do know is that alternative solutions are necessary.
What is needed is some form of paradigm shift – a shift in worldview that recognises war and violence as the obsolete and wasteful approach to conflict resolution that it is. As the Dalai Lama says, in the globalised new world, where our survival is interdependent on our interaction with each other and our environment, war is outdated. Conflicts must be resolved through dialogue.
Feel free to agree or disagree in the comments section below – I’d love to hear your thoughts…..
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Call Me By My True Names
This is a poem by Thich Nhat Hanh taken from: Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life.
Can we recognise ourselves in each other?
Please call Me By My True Names
Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
…
This is the essence of “interbeing,” the innerconnectedness of all things.
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“There’s no such thing as balance.”
The fourteenth day = detox half-way mark…….
It’s after midnight. I’m a little tipsy. What happened to my detox?
As I’ve mentioned in my last post, I “fell off the horse” by no fault of my own – the 3rd ankle sprain in three weeks justified a decafe coffee, a small cheat which turned to complete failure when they brought me a real one. Since this day it has become easy to fall off the horse – again, and again.
Oh well.
A new goal for February… To find BALANCE. Balanced habits that last. The occasional drink without getting drunk. The occasional espresso without getting addicted. A piece of chocolate without demolishing the block. These new goals combined with my “stand on one foot with eyes closed” ankle exercises, led me to think that peace comes from balance – balance within ourselves, and within our environment. So when my friend said to me that “balance doesn’t exist”, some interesting conversations and deep contemplations were the result.
“Not anywhere in the universe. Or in nature. It’s through adversity and hardship that everything becomes stronger. You will find balance – only when you are dead…”
I suppose in some ways he is right. The evolution of plants and animals and us comes down to survival of the fittest. Being the fittest means pushing oneself to the limits, adapting to adversities – moments that are not exactly examples of balance.
Balance. Harmony. Peace.
Find it first within yourself, then you fill find it in the world.
Heaven, enlightenment, rejoining the oneness, becoming one with “God”.
… Reality or fantasy? Neither or both?
“What about the sun and the moon and the tides?” I ask. “The balance exists. In nature.”
I disagree with my friend. I think balance is more than possible. In the big scheme of things balance is inevitable.
We all know that what goes up must come down. BUT… What goes up is not balanced out until it comes down. Neither the moment of ascension nor the moment of descension are moments of balance. Balance isn’t found in the moment. It’s found when viewed as a whole.
When the universe is out of balance life finds a new balance, or it finds itself extinct. My friend is right in saying that it is the hard times and moments of disharmony that make us (or plants or animals) grow stronger, but in the end this will bring us to a new equilibrium. A new harmony.
In the end balance will prevail – to the loss or advantage of humankind. The universal expansion will eventually lead to a universal compression. Creativity is eventually met with destruction. If we destroy our planet it will eventually destroy us. Obviously this isn’t very encouraging. But it is reality. The forces of “good” versus the forces of “evil” represent the duality of everything we know. No moment is balanced until viewed within it’s whole.
And so, at 130am on a Saturday night, as I plan to work on the last chapter of my book until my eyes can no longer stay open, or until my first full draft is complete – I have decided that while balance is good, creativity is better. The maximisation of the creative potential of this moment is temporal. Once potential is achieved, new potentials are created. But even if just for the moment, it’s worth it. The balance will arrive eventually so you have to enjoy the process.
Maybe it was the few drinks I had before writing this but it seems like this rant is has gone full-circle. What does this mean for my detox? And my new goals of balanced diet and lifestyle?
Balance is like truth – you might never reach it but it’s still a worthwhile pursuit.
To balance out my December and January habits I think it’s a good idea to avoid alcohol and coffee and chocolate at least for a little bit longer. And I do hope some lasting balanced habits result. But, as I write my book’s last chapter about Rio’s Carnaval, should I desire a cachaca and pineapple – in the name of creativity I will have one. BALANCE. Hmmm…
So in sum, I’ve failed on three of the first fourteen days of February. See if I do better in the fourteen to come…
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On the tenth day of detox
So, all was going well, the swelling on my ankle was very slowly starting to disappear when… OUCH!!! I DID AGAIN… On my first morning walk in two weeks, as I enter Trumper Park, it goes on me. I fall to the ground and hit hard. F**K.
I stand up and hobble toward my apartment. I feel faint. The world is spinning. My vision is closing in. I have to stop. I sit on the curb. Then try again. A few steps later I sit. Finally, somehow, I make it home.
My friend takes me to a physio. It’s not broken, thank God, but I have done some pretty serious ligament damage. I get a nice boot to walk around in for the next few days. At least finally I’m getting it cared for I guess.
I want something to cheer me up. I deserve something to cheer me up. Decafe coffee doesn’t count does it?
‘Mmmm mmmm!’ I say as I take a sip. ‘Decafe is actually really good, after not having any coffee for ten days.’
‘Argh.. hmm…’ my friend says as she sips hers. ‘I’m not sure yours is decafe,’ she says, having ordered a regular. She is right – hers tastes watery. Mine tastes good. But she has added sugar to hers… ‘What do you want, sugar or caffeine?’ she laughs.
‘I’ve already had a few sips… and… I’m really enjoying this,’ I say, feeling like a drug addict getting his first hit in years.
And that was my tenth day of detox.
And I had been going so well…
Day six I woke up again at 620am. What’s with that? Full of energy. I’m not complaining. I get up and started writing. I have cravings for anything. I have temptations, especially when people talk about coffee and when I get a good whiff of it. God it smells good. But no desire to cave in.
I believe the only sugar I’ve really eaten these last ten days is honey, a lot of honey. The only drug that might also have taken in is the pott that sometimes whifts into my room from somewhere in my neighbourhood… particularly effective when breathed in while practicing yoga. Yes, feeling a bit spacey. Strange.
I go to bed around 1am, and wake on the seventh day at 8am, full of energy, excited to start the day. It’s raining. I do 20 minutes of yoga and eat breakfast and get into some writing. I am feeling lighter. Much lighter.
And so on… and so on…
So. I lasted ten days, but it wasn’t my fault. Now I am an invalid in a ski boot. That’s not where I was supposed to be by now.
I haven’t given up altogether. I’m going to keep going besides today’s slip up. When you fall of the horse…
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I shot a gun. And I liked it.
The first shot blows me away. I focus my eyes, level the gun and POW! My arms jolt up. The bullet hits the paper target.
The second shot. Ok. I’m getting used to this. No idea where the bullet landed.
The third shot. Bulls eye! Well almost. It went somewhere in the circle, or so some dude tells me.
The fourth shot. Woooo. Feeling a bit dizzy. My eyes. Blink. Blink.
The fifth shot. I rest my arms. Blink…. Blink. Why won’t my eyes focus?
The sixth, seventh, eighth. I imagine the target is a person. I can’t help it. “Are you ok?” The dude asks. I pause. I can do this.
The ninth shot. A little better.
The tenth. One round of ammunition. I’m done.
Ok, so I get the power thing. Shooting a gun was fun. But the reality of guns isn’t. I don’t think the pleasure of guns is worth the pain. Why can’t everyone in the world just decide to destroy all their guns, all at once? Individuals probably would. It’s the big boys earning MONEY from the gun trade that won’t. Corporations have the power. Far more power than the gun I shot. Forget “rogue states”… war wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for these money-hungry corporate rogues who, because of the rules of the game, can’t even be tried for crime.
Do you know anyone in the arms trade? Maybe we can shame them into stopping it??? No money is worth the amount of lives guns take.
BTW the picture above was my 18th Austin Powers birthday party – no party will ever top that one.
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On the fifth day of detox….
It is interesting to see you operate with no drugs in your system. No using coffee and chocolate to wake me up and stimulate my mind. No using alcohol to relax and escape.
Following a big night to farewell to the month of binges, the first day of detox I slept in quite late. I did a short 20 minute pilates DVD. I had a decent amount of energy. My ankle was sore and I was resting it. No real cravings.
The second day of detox I had less energy. I did a 40 minute pilates DVD and spend the day at home writing, and the afternoon and evening catching up with friends. I was distracted. I had a steak for dinner. Second day was fairly easy.
The third day was the was the worst. I got stuck in traffic and spent the day working reception for my Dad’s business. I still work for my Dad’s business about one day a week but I haven’t done reception in years. I have a new appreciation for what receptionists do. It’s tiring work answering phones. Seriously tiring. And we had live programs being aired so it there were frantic times. At 1pm the coffee man arrived. Beep beep bebeep beep… beep beep! Oh how I wanted one. Nope. Don’t give in. Green tea. Green tea. I was strong. I got through it.
On the fourth day of detox I woke up at 620am, full of energy. What is this? I wasn’t sure where that came from. I forced myself to get another hour’s sleep and then got up and had a fairly morning. But by afternoon I was exhausted. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. I was at my Dads for dinner and in the fridge was a block. A half-eaten block of dark Lindt chocolate. My favourite. Sitting there, begging me. Eat me! Eat me! And I knew that one piece wouldn’t do any harm. It would give me energy and fulfil the craving, satisfy the urge. Give me. Give me. But I resisted.
On the fifth day of detox (today) I woke at 747am, and I’m feeling pretty good. I google videoed a good friend in Brazil and ate a little tub of frozen acai pulp (Brazilian berry from the Amazon) which has a little guarana in it (I bought a big box of them yesterday!!) so I’m feeling inspired and getting lots of writing done. (Yes I know there’s caffeine in guarana…)
Today I am not craving coffee. I don’t feel at all like drinking alcohol. And although there are two blocks of Ecuadorian dark chocolate (you can get them in Aldi) in my fridge, I’m not tempted to open them.
What I am noticing most about not having toxins in your system is a calmness, a sense of being in a natural state of mind, which actually feels a little weird. Like the world has slowed down a little bit. And like my thinking processes and my actions are a little slower too. The worst thing is not having that drug-induced excuse. I’m used to having a coffee or a block of chocolate and using it to keep myself up very late night writing. But now it gets to 11pm and I’m tired and I go to sleep. I’m getting a lot of sleep. It’s kind of weird.
Five days down, twenty-three days to go.
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No walking, no blogging.
I walk, ideas come, I write.
I don’t walk, my mind slows, and good blog entries become few and far between.
Just over a week ago I twisted my ankle and ignored it. I think I inherited my Opa’s high pain tolerance. But now it hurts. Not physically, it’s more a mental pain. The ankle is as swollen as ever, and although it’s a frustrating pain, I have to rest.
Walking is my meditation, information-processing, keeping-me-sane time. It is after a long walk I sit down and feel like I write my best. It is on long walks that the best ideas pop into my head. It is on my walks that I make sense of my world, of the conversations, the people, the books, my thoughts. Walking keeps me sane. And fit.
And now it is February. I made it through my last week of “holidays-zone” and now it is time to get serious:
Detox.
Write lots.
Teach Pilates.
Get into shape.
The most annoying thing is that the getting my ankle better doesn’t really fit so well with the writing lots, the teaching pilates or the getting into shape.
Patience, patience, patience. Baby steps. Stay off the ankle now and the rest will fall into place.
I did manage to start the detox. No alcohol, coffee, chocolate or greasy foods. None. At least for the month of February, and I’m hoping to get into good habits that last longer. The last couple of months, or maybe even the last couple of years, have been progressively more destructive in terms of such habits, varying with life’s ups and downs, challenges and celebrations. Now that I’ve signed a one year apartment lease – the longest commitment I’ve made to anything in a while – it’s time for a change. And I’m considering committing to a 3 year PhD so I had better get some good habits under my belt or else I can throw my body goodbye.
Which brings me to the detox…
Today was the third day. I believe the third day is the worst, right??? It was tougher than the first and second combined.
So, if you please, keep your fingers crossed for my ankle and the detox… the quality, or lack of it, of entries on this blog depends on it.
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Chapter 28 – Size Does Matter (Rio de Janeiro)
When it comes to Brazilian butts, as you see in the clip below, SIZE DOES NOT MATTER. You got it, you flaunt it baby. But according to a drug dealer Rachel and Lola meet on the streets of Lapa, when it comes to something else size does matter…
Here’s a funny little snippet from Chapter 28:
‘Cool. Ok, so what happened next?’ I ask Rachel, interested in where this story was going.
‘Next we walk up the hill, and meet a young girl in really tiny shorts, a very tiny top and a belly button ring which kind of sat on top of her very big stomach like a cherry on top of a cupcake. She was showing us how to samba, in a very expressive way. She was a bit rough around the edges but the story we got was that she was the mother of five because her boyfriend doesn’t like to wear condoms. I guess they haven’t heard of other forms of contraceptives, I don’t know. And she went on to say that she doesn’t like Brazilian men, she likes blonde men. And one of her children had blonde hair, she is not quite sure how. She said black Brazilian men are not nice – their penises are too big and they hit their women.’
‘No stereotyping going on here,’ I laugh.
‘We later found out, 20 or so min later, when the police turned up, that she was a drug dealer. But on the way home we surmised she must have been a pretty good drug dealer, because she didn’t try to tell us any drugs. She was more interested in telling us about her life and her existence than selling us drugs. She must have been a drug dealer with a conscience. She loved sex. She made a point of saying that. And she hand shake she went like this, like this, like this and like that, and then she hit her fanny!’ Rachel grabs my hand in different arrangements and slaps her pubic bone. I start laughing uncontrollably. Trust Rachel to leave nothing to the imagination.
‘Then she was doing the whole dance behind you, let it all out, thing. So she was a very very expressive woman. But she was out and proud, you know, like the belly was there. It looked like she had had had children, but she wasn’t hiding it. She had the belly button ring going. It was good. She looked young. Younger than us. But maybe that’s the Brazilian skin. And she said to us, “Do you like black men? You want a black man? Have you been with a black man? Just warning, you they have big penises. Do you like big penises?” and I said, “well I don’t know” and she said, “well theirs are really too big.” She goes, “I can’t do it.” And coming from a woman who loves sex, I thought, that’s saying a lot!’ Rachel laughs.
‘Well… there you go,’ I say, shaking my head and with a big grin across my face. ‘Maybe size does matter.’
MUSIC CREDITS:
Cash Money, The Beautiful Girls.
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Chapter 27 – Beauty in Imperfection (Florianapolis)
Brazilian beaches – the best in the world. Coming from an Aussie that’s a pretty big call. But seriously, check out the pineapple cachaca cocktail… and the bar tender 
Oooo and I discovered the magic ingredient to that cocktail! Lucky I took notes. Inside that pineapple you will find a blend of pineapple (obviously), cachaca (a spirit made from sugarcane), ice and… sweetened condensed milk.
Ok, so I recently discovered cachaca is available (at ten times the cost, but still available) in Australia, so now we just need the freedom to put a few cute bartenders on our beaches… then we’ll be giving Brazil a run for their money…
MUSIC CREDITS:
Tease me, Unknown.
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Chapter 26 – One Big Cliche (Sao Paulo)
The concrete jungle mega-city where I experienced my very first taste of acai (ah-sigh-ee) – the wild Amazonian berry that tastes like frozen chocolate and is full of vitamins, minerals and antioxidents that give you an energy hit and allegedly make you lose weight. My friend imports it to Oz in pulp and powder, and I happen to be drinking a mixture of acai, banana and ice right now. Mmmmm mmmm! Check out www.riolife.com.au if you wanna taste the purple goodness…
MUSIC CREDITS:
Sao Paulo, Morcheeba