Mindset

Unexpected Lessons in Unexpected Ways

In the workplace, we bring a wealth of experiences, both personal and professional, that shape our problem-solving abilities and adaptability. Sport is so much more that moving your body. Over the years, it thought me so many universal lessons that are applicable at work and everyday life! This is one of those lessons worth documenting. 

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I am currently in on the training camp, leading up to the last race of the season. Shortly after landing in Turkey, same evening, I unpacked my bike only to discover that the Di2 battery was completely dead, meaning that the electric gear shifter was useless. The following morning, with a group bike ride planned, my first mission was to head to the bike shop in search of a charger.

I met my training group at the shop, we were surprised to find that Alexey was facing a similar predicament with his battery. Di2 controller on his bike was blinking red, meaning that the battery was below 25% of charge. Had we not come together, we might never have known. It would’ve really sucked to have a Di2 battery dead on the race day, next weekend.

As we waited for the charger to be delivered to the shop, Egor happened to notice an odd sound when rotating my pedals backwards. It was coming from my bike’s bottom bracket. He dropped the chain and attempted to rotate the pedals, but they resisted. It was evident that the bottom bracket was seized. I then asked Martin, the shop’s owner, to take a closer look.

In a mere three minutes, Martin not only identified a broken component but also diagnosed that the bearings in my bottom bracket were completely shot and needed to be replaced asap. He said: “How were you even riding like this? It must have been very challenging.” Ha! It was an understatement. Unknowingly, this issue had been robbing my power by creating additional resistance. For at least the past two months, it was making my bike workouts much-much harder than what they should’ve been. What used to feel like 200W now felt like a grueling 300W. The physical and mental toll was immense. Trusting that the numbers were correct, I couldn’t explain how my performance on the bike deteriorated so rapidly in just a couple of months. I discussed it with my coach. I talked to my friends. But I couldn’t find any reasonable explanation. My bike workouts had become a source of dread.

An overwhelming sense of joy is filling me now. I was SO HAPPY to hear the bad news! How many watts have I been losing while riding faulty equipment?

I realized that I wouldn’t have learned any of this if I hadn’t made that trip to the bike shop. It wouldn’t have crossed my radar if my battery hadn’t died, and it certainly wouldn’t have come to light if I hadn’t forgotten to bring my Di2 charger. It’s a beautifully elegant life lesson. What initially appeared to be a major mishap and a big inconvenience, unexpectedly revealed itself as a true blessing. It’s remarkable! I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. I can think of several valuable lessons.

Teamwork and Community: us, being part of a group, allowed Alexey to discover the shared issue with the battery. He potentially saved his race.

Seeking Professional Advice: consulting experts, like the shop owner Martin, lead to a quick and accurate diagnosis, potentially saving me time and effort in the long run.

Adaptability: what appeared to be a setback had led me to unexpected opportunities and discoveries. In this case, it turned an inconvenience into an eye-opening revelation. It is now so much easier to ride the bike. Power numbers make sense now. I am confident. I am fit.

Resilience: Despite struggling with bike workouts for months, I persisted. I am proud of myself for not quitting completely.

Challenges and setbacks can be disguised blessings.

LinkedIn October 21 1

Швеция. Ложное Я. Адаптации Психики.

Я заглядываю и ищу в глазах окружающих одобрение и восхищение. Мне необходимо получить подтверждение тому что я хороший. И когда прохожий уводит взгляд, отворачивается, или не дай бог смотрит на меня как-то менее чем с восхищением, то я испытываю дискомфорт – боль и страх. Что либо менее чем восхищение, я воспринимаю это как агрессию по отношению к себе. Когда похожий случай со случайным прохожим повторится, я уже буду атаковать сам себя за то что не повёл себя каким-то образом чтобы вызвать восхищение у другого. Ну или я выгляжу как-то не так. Значит, я ниже “стандарта”. Я хуже остальных. Ведь другим людям улыбаются, а мне нет. Я социальное животное и чувства возникающие на почве подобных размышлений невыносимы. Необходимо что-то предпринять чтобы уменьшить боль и дискомфорт. Обвинить других в агрессивности по отношению ко мне? Объявить Швецию страной, население которой неприветливое, агрессивное и недоразвитое? Сделать вывод что это “не моё” и поискать страну, которая лучше подходит под мои описания того как другие должны меня воспринимать? До тех пор пока я ищу проблему в других, в стране, в обстоятельствах — это путь в самообман. Это моя боль и моя неудовлетворенность. Присвоить себе свои чувства и попытаться разобраться в них. Рост невозможен пока я перекладываю ответственность на других и объявляю Швецию не такой как мне надо. Пока я не разрешу себе чувствовать и пока я не приму ответственность за то что я чувствую, “кина не будет”. Я буду сидеть на одном месте и охранять свой карточный домик иллюзий выстроенный вокруг идеальной версии себя, лжи. Я выстрою ложные теории и объяснения того почему я молодец, а все остальные дураки. Меня не понимают. Меня не оценивают по достоинству. Я — особенный, среди толпы обезьян. Время от времени, эти обезьяны будут приходить и рушить мой карточный домик вместе с моими иллюзиями о мире и самого себя. И вновь, будет больно и неприятно. Я поспешу, как ошпаренный паяльником в анус, начну вновь выстраивать теории и объяснения своей ангельской невинности. В этот раз аргументы уже будут получше. Эта анальная карусель будет длиться до тех пор, пока человек не проявит смелость и не допустит возможность того что воняет от него, а не от других. Шок! Это идёт кардинально в разрез с тем идеальным, раздутым образом себя, который он выстроил у себя в голове. Проявляется ложь и фейк.

“…Ніна, шо мені робить? Закопать його чи.. викинуть?”.

Чтобы вписаться в общество, я создаю в своей голове идеальный образ того, кому не смогут отказать и кого будут все любить и принимать, без исключения. Я уверен что я могу стать таковым, и более того, мне это жизненно необходимо. А так как я ходячее недоразумение, лентяй и неумеха, то меня нужно научить и заставить это сделать. Мне нужно показать каким быть. Ну а так как с детства, моё обучение моими родителями проводилась посредством физического насилия, истерик, криков, обвинений, чувства вины и стыда, то такими же методами я выбираю обращаться с самим собой для достижения идеала. Я по другому не знаю. Я не видел как иначе можно чего-то достичь, и я уверен что поступаю правильным образом и еб*шу себя палкой по яйцам, себе же на благо. Ну а как же иначе, ведь родители не могут ошибаться? Персональные предпочтения, личные качества моего Я в учёт не берутся. Заткнись и делай. Перестань ныть. Составляется детальный список допустимых чувств и эмоций. В случае, если человек позволяет себе испытать что-либо не входящие в этот список, он будет наказан чувством вины и стыда. “Будь мужиком, размазня!” Чем сильнее и грандиознее раздут образ ложного Я, тем глубже, внутренний Критик (ну или внутренний родитель) заталкивает раскаленный паяльник сами знаете в какое место. Чем менее я соответствую своему идеальному образу, тем сильнее и громче я испытываю критику по отношению самого к себе. Тот, кем я на данный момент являюсь — недостаточно. Гордо заявляющие: “Я стремлюсь быть лучшей версией себя” — на каждом паблике по саморазвитию и мотивации. И раз уж я таким образом общаюсь с самым любимым человеком в мире (мы все эгоисты) и испепеляю себя критикой, то как я могу общаться иначе с другими людьми? Как я могу быть сопереживающим к тому кто упал и не справился? Я конечно могу улыбнуться и сыграть положительную роль, но так как это не то чем кем я на самом деле являюсь, мне это будет стоить большое количество энергии. Поэтому мы так сильно устаем когда играем на публику роль того кем мы не являемся. Когда человек устаёт, и у него не остается больше сил и энергии лгать, и если в этот момент он не может спрятаться — тогда мы увидим извержение наружу истинного Я. 

Что послужило триггером этих размышлений? В Швеции, люди не настолько приветливые и доброжелательные, насколько они в Канаде и США. Люди ходят с кислым минами и носят вокруг себя невидимый защитный щит, через который сложно пробиться. Люди-люди, а мне-то что? А мне доставляло большой дискомфорт то как на меня смотрели, как меня воспринимали и как со мной общались. Во многих случаях, я чувствовал стыд за несоответствие. Я воспринимал окружающую меня обстановку как крайне агрессивную и не дружелюбную. Ведь если мне не улыбаются, и не придерживает дверь в лифте, значит против меня проявляют агрессию. Разве не так? Если мне не улыбаются и мною не восхищаются, значит меня презирают и хотят дать мне в морду. 

На другой стороне этой боли лежит шанс отделиться от мира и пройти ближе к своему истинному Я. Шанс подступиться к своей индивидуальности. 

Без Причины Радуются Только Дурачки

Обещая себе лучшее будущее, мечтая о нём, я отвлекаю себя от настоящих проблем, которые лежат на много ближе чем далёкое будущее — внутри себя. Вот, я куплю себе машину своей мечты, и всё изменится. Вот, я перееду в другую страну, и тогда я заживу по-настоящему. Я найду свою “вторую половинку”, влюблюсь, женюсь и тогда моя жизнь кардинально улучшится, потому что это было то чего мне на самом деле не хватало всё это время. Я получу признание от начальства, коллег, бывших коллег. Меня пригласят на сцену. У меня возьмут интервью. Вот тогда люди начнут меня ценить и уважать. Тогда моя жизнь будет легкой и со всех сторон положительной. 

Я откладываю своё счастье и радость на потом. Я вру себе и заставляю себя верить в то что для того чтобы радоваться, для радости, мне нужна причина. Что-то должно обязательно случиться, мне нужен стимул извне, команда, зелёный свет светофора, одобрение — “Александр, ты можешь радоваться и гордиться собой. Радуйся. Ты заслужил, молодец.” Мне нужна похвала и одобрение других людей для подтверждения того что я достоин жизни на этой Земле и дышать этим воздухом. Я обязательно должен что-то сделать, чтобы заслужить любовь и одобрение. Я должен выстрадать, вымолить, выпросить. 

И если я соберу достаточное количество лайков и докажу окружающим что я не лох и достоин продолжения рода, то выберут меня. Только так моя жизнь приобретёт ценность. А иначе никак. Значит прожил зря.

Цели, задачи, мечты и желания — как причины для того чтобы быть неудовлетворенным, несчастным, не любимым, не достойным. Мы точно знаем почему мы не счастливы в большую часть своей жизни. Мы выставляем цели и задачи потому что мы считаем что их достижение заставит нас чувствовать определенным образом. Но по факту мы никогда, никогда не находим именно то чего мы и ищем. Но мы всегда находим что-то, и тут же обесцениваем это потому что это не то что мы искали. Не то пальто. И мы продолжаем поиск и никогда не находим именно то что мы ищем. Спустя время вера медленно умирает и наш энтузиазм и желание жить постепенно угасает. Какой смысл продолжать искать и стараться? Мы становимся циничными. Мы так сильно постарались и так много вложили в свой поиск, который нас никуда не привёл. Мы разочарованы в себе и в жизни. Мы так и не нашли причины, не дождались разрешения радоваться жизни. Мы не получили всеобщего одобрения и восхищения. Нас обделили любовью. Мы пробежали сквозь прилавки жизни хватая всё самое яркое и доступное, всё то что мы увидели в рекламе.

Счастье, радость, благодарность — это образ жизни. Мы рождены с этим по умолчанию, но со временем нас убедили в том что без причины радуются только дурачки. “Радость без причины признак дурачины.” Нас научили когда нужно плакать, а когда смеяться. Нам рассказали при каких обстоятельствах счастья уместно, а при каких нет. Отклонение от нормы считается заболеванием. Если человек счастлив без определённой, социально принятой, причины, то он скорее всего слабоумный. Он хуже остальных. Его ценность как человека, меньше, и соответственно причин для того чтобы любить такого человека или дружить с ним тоже меньше. И если он счастлив без причины, тогда легче списать его со счетов как дурочка. Ведь намного сложнее принять тот факт что я сам себе вру что для счастья мне нужны игрушки и разрешение остальных. Я сам выбираю быть неудовлетворенным, не любимым, и не счастливым. Я Бог и я сам это выбрал, я сам создал свой мир, ведь жизнь это удивительная игра, где я сам устанавливаю правила своей игры. И поверить в подлинность этих правил является частью игры. Я выбрал играть в игру, в которую играли мои родители, родители моих родителей, и так далее. Я выбрал быть хорошим мальчиком для своих мамы и папы, потому что я был слаб. Good boy! Я искал любви там, где её не было. Значит плохо старался – я внушил себе.

Я отказываюсь брать ответственность за свои решения. Особенно за те решения, которые я принял неосознанно, механистически. Когда мне больно и неприятно, особенно когда невыносимо, я смягчаю боль «обвинением» и «осуждением» остальных. Я мастер по отвлечению самого себя от того что на самом деле важно и сложно — принятие ответственности и мер по изменению своих обстоятельств. Работа над собой тяжела, а я слаб. Слишком слаб. Меня не научили как быть сильным, достойным, благородным, независимым. Меня научили быть удобным, слабым, обиженным. Как только я чувствую дискомфорт, я тут же нахожу способ отвлечься и убежать. Я отказываюсь чувствовать что-либо что не входит в мой список допустимых чувств и эмоций. Мне страшно испытать настоящую любовь. Я боюсь стать сильным и великим человеком. Я боюсь широкого признания, так как я боюсь большой ответственности. Я хочу как все. Я хочу по правилам. Я хочу жить в мире где результат трудов пропорционален выполненной работе. Хорошо поработал – хорошо покушал. Я хочу верить в то что я особенный и жизнь моя имеет большую ценность. Похер что это не так – я хочу верить. И я буду окружать себя людьми своего уровня, которые слишком зациклены на себе чтобы не дай Бог не разоблачить мою иллюзию. Принятие противоположной точки зрения и осознание реальности будет невыносимо. Я хочу чтобы меня понимали с полуслова, или по крайней мере молчали и кивали головой.

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Shame, Stockholm. Apr 1, 2023

Mar 28, 2023

I struggle. Big time.

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Here, in Sweden, I feel like it I am shutting down. From a person who is naturally very open and communicative, I turn into someone isolated and closed. I don’t like it and, I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t want to go out. I don’t even want to leave my tiny apartment. I don’t want to wake up in the morning. I don’t like it here.

I made myself very depressed by denying my real feelings, and opinions about this new environment and people in it. I put my emotions up to my ass because they are not serving me in my situation. They will get me in trouble if I let them outside of my head. Certainly, locals do not want to hear anything rather than amazement and all the beautiful things about Sweden. I was contemplating writing this piece for several months, hoping that things will get better, and I will adjust. This is not my first rodeo. I moved many times before. However, this move is particularly difficult. I was avoiding writing my thoughts out, because I knew how much emotional labour it will take to get them out. I am shaking as I start writing this. Fear? Fear to get overwhelmed by emotions. Anger? I feel a blood just rush in my ankles.

Just for reference, I’ve moved to Stockholm only three months ago.

Moving to Sweden and going through “this” helped me realize how much of Shape I am carrying on my shoulders. I feel the pain of not being one of them, not fitting in. How much of a burden I was carrying up until now…. Blaming myself for being less than God, less than perfect. I used to say that I didn’t care what people thought and said about me — that was the biggest lie. My face still turns red if I do or say something slightly out of line. I care whether people like me or not. I care about being accepted into community or a group of people that I interact with. And, whenever I don’t get the approval from my peers – I blame myself. I should’ve done or said things differently. I am not good enough. I am the problem. I am bad.

In the new culture, I am learning quickly how to dress, speak and act, to be liked and accepted. I learn what topics to avoid to not make anyone feel uncomfortable. How much of my Self is left? What am I willing to pay to free up myself? It is going to cost me a fortune, I know.

It is very good for me to be an alien, here, in this confusing country. Shame comes up so often and obvious that I cannot pretend that I don’t see it. Shame is hurting me, trying to fit me into the narrative of this Swedish show. How much of my Self is going to be left by the time I adjust myself completely? How far away am I going to push my real Self, so it doesn’t stand out? Deny your feelings. You should not feel that way. It is not good to think what you think. Be nice. Be kind. Be polite. Be approachable. Make everyone like you. Be a good boy.        

I want to be free from shame. I want to be free.

I wish that no one ever could put their shaming looks on me. Keep this toxic crap you yourself. I refuse to accept it. I am confident in myself. I am faithful in God. I am my only judge. I want to be in tune with what I feel and think and accept it without feeling ashamed of my Self.

I am surrounded by people, but so lonely, as I haven’t been in a while.

I have a chip on my shoulder — I was never enough in my life. I am an unloved child of my parents. I have never felt “at home”. I wanted to run away from my parent’s house as a kid. And I did. Whenever my parents went into their daily ritual of fighting, I would leave my home and go walk down the railroad near my home. Nobody was there, just me. I did not want to go back home, however I did, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

I struggle to connect with local people here. Their lives are so comfortable and stable. I am at my best in crisis. I work, think, train… always go-go-go. I am ashamed of this side of me, because I feel that there is something wrong with me. Others spend weekends going to the parties, wine tasking, coffee shops with friends, families, kids, skiing, home renovations etc. I don’t have any interest in those activities. I feel ashamed of it. Perhaps there is something fundamentally wrong with me and am numbing, distracting myself from it. Perhaps, I am running away from something. Forever running. Can’t settle. Can’t find someone to love. Perhaps I am too self-centred. An Egoist, as my grandmother used to label me. There are some people who are easy to love. They are pleasure to be around. I am not. I am too much. Too serious. Perhaps, not lovable. What kind of family can I create with all the issues that I have in my head? What kind of child can I raise? What will I pass onto him or her? Damn, it is better that other people create families and raise kids.

Swedes are very proud of their work-life balance. I am having hard time separating my work from my life. My work IS my life. My sport IS my life. I am ashamed to admit it. Perhaps, because this is all I have – what is wrong with you man? I am ashamed of trying too hard. I must hold myself back from being too enthusiastic and too excited about something. There are so many things wrong with you, man.

Shame is flooding my system. I am drowning in it. I feel that I am wrong. I am defective. Breathe… OMG it is a very heavy feeling. I can feel it now.

I will be an old man. Sick, fat, and ugly. Never married. Never had children. Sharing my life with my dog. Work, work, work. At some point, soon, I will stop improving in sport. Other guys, younger generation will come and shine. I am not proud of this picture, and I feel a lot of shame. I am a failure.

Ever since I was a child, I was never enough to anyone. My father would always criticise. My mother never said that she loved me. F*cking never. Never did I hear that they were proud of me. The only times when I received feedback, was when there was something wrong with me. An absence of punishment I considered as a praise. Great! Isn’t it? I feel ashamed to admit that I was raised in an abusive, violent, and very dysfunctional family. Nothing good can come out of such an environment — I am no good. Just give me enough time, and I will inevitably disappoint you.

I was always compared to my cousins — there was always something fucked up about me and my little brother. Exactly in the same way as my mother was among two of her sisters. She was hurt by it carried a lot of shame that she surely passed onto me and my brother. She would always complain how others looked down on our family. I learned early in my life that there is something different about me and our family. There was something wrong about the ways I looked, walked and talked. We did not belong. We always were victimised. We were the ones to blame.

After my parent’s divorce, I heard many times that people said being my back that I am just like my father. As inadequate and fucked up as he. There is something wrong about me. “Stay away from Sasha, because, do you know who is his father?” On the question Who? — they can never say anything in return, however there is something very bad and wrong about my father and me as his son.

I lived my entire life trying to please others and prove that I am worthy to be loved. I never realised my differences. I would squeeze myself into whatever I need to fit in. I never learned to accept my feelings and emotions. We never talked about feelings in my family. Would would only complain. I was not comfortable at home. I was not comfortable in my body. Feel the right feelings. Say the right words. Do the right things.

I am drowning in shame. My lifestyle is different. My motivations are different. What you are talking about is a complete nonsense, plain stupid and a waste of my time. I don’t allow myself to think these thoughts. Instead, I try to understand what is wrong with me. Give up trying. You are just fucked up, that’s why you don’t fit. That’s why you struggle to connect with people. You always over analyse. You are too serious. No fun to be around.

I have a chip on my shoulder, and I am doing a great job of hiding it to fitting in.

My life is different, and I understand that in many ways it may be limited, deprived. I might be missing out on many things that other people have or do. At the end, I might regret of choosing this path. I might feel sorry for myself for not being born in a loving family. I might feel sorry for myself for not having children of my own and not creating a family. I might regret for spending my life the way I did.

I feel shame for being single.
I feel shame for training so much.
I feel ashamed for living in this shoe box.
I feel ashamed to have very different opinions about work.
I feel ashamed for not speaking the language. I am an immigrant.
I feel ashamed of feeling all this. Ashamed of struggling and being weak.

I feel like it I am shutting down. I am turning into one of them and I don’t want to be that. Shame is showing me my differences. I am grateful; however I also don’t want to wake up in the morning.

,

PURPOSE-DRIVEN LIFE

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Man without a purpose is like a ship without a rudder-a waif, a nothing, a no man (Thomas Carlyle).

Many people are driven by guilt. They spend their entire lives running from regrets and hiding their shame. Guilt-driven people are manipulated by memories. They allow their past to control their future. They often unconsciously punish themselves by sabotaging their own success.

Many people are driven by resentment and anger. They hold on to hurts and never get over them. Instead of releasing their pain through forgiveness, they rehearse it over and over in their minds. Resentment always hurts you more than it does the person you resent. While your offender has probably forgotten the offence and gone on with life, you continue to stew in your pain, perpetuating the past. Listen: Those who have hurt you in the past cannot continue to hurt you now unless you hold on to the pain through resentment. Your past is past! Nothing will change it. You are only hurting yourself with your bitterness. For your own sake, learn from it, and then let it go.

Possessions only provide temporary happiness. Because things do not change, we eventually become bored with them and then want newer, bigger, better versions. It’s also a myth that if I get more, I will be more important. Self-worth and net-worth are not the same. Your value is not determined by your valuables, and God says the most valuable things in life are not things!

Without a purpose, life is motion without meaning, activity without direction, and events without reason. Without a purpose, life is trivial, petty, and pointless. When life has meaning, you can bear almost anything; without it, nothing is bearable.

“I give up; I am tired of living. Leave me alone. My life makes no sense.” The greatest tragedy is not death, but life without purpose. Without a clear purpose you have no foundation on which you base decisions, allocate your time, and use your resources. You will tend to make choices based on circumstances, pressures, and your mood at that moment. People who don’t know their purpose try to do too much-and that causes stress, fatigue, and conflict.

If you want your life to have impact, focus it! Stop dabbling. Stop trying to do it all. Do less. It is usually meaningless work, not overwork, that wears us down, saps our strength, and robs our joy.

The only time most people think about eternity is at funerals, and then it’s often shallow, sentimental thinking, based on ignorance. You may feel it’s morbid to think about death, but actually it’s unhealthy to live in denial of death and not consider what is inevitable. Only a fool would go through life unprepared for what we all know will eventually happen. You need to think more about eternity, not less.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.

To make the best use of your life, you must never forget two truths:

  1. First, compared with eternity, life is extremely brief.
  2. Second, earth is only a temporary residence. You won’t be here long, so don’t get too attached.
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A BLIND MAN

I left the swimming pool in a bad mood. I failed to complete the prescribed intervals. I cut the workout 1 km short. I felt bad about it. I felt bad about myself.

As I was approaching the metro entrance, I saw a man. He was walking slowly towards the same entrance as me while dragging a wooden stick on the ground in front of him. He then stopped and raised his hand in the air as if he was waving at someone. There was no one around and he was waving at the wall. I realized that he was blind. A few seconds later, as I was getting closer, I said: “Coming!” – to let him know of my presence. I came closer and asked what was going on and if he needed some help. Sure he did. The man needed money to get home. He was also disoriented and thirsty. I saw it on his lips. 

I brought him inside the building and looked around for an ATM. I told him to wait where he was and went to find one. After I withdrew the cash, I stopped by the coffee place and got him a bottle of water and snacks. I gave him two bills and he showed me how to distinguish twenty-dollar bills with my eyes closed. He then held me by my hand and we walked down to the metro. We were going in the same direction, so we went onto the train and sat by each other. He told me that he wasn’t always blind. He lost his vision at the age of 19th due to glaucoma. He missed seeing women and movies. I attempted to joke saying that now he might’ve developed a great imagination. We attracted a lot of attention in the metro. I was on my way to the Symphony performance, wearing a fancy black jacket, black pants and pink tight t-shirt underneath. He was a black man, with a wooden stick, a long simple autumn coat and a beard. He held me by the hand as we marched through the crowd like a couple. I didn’t care at all. I just noticed. A couple of minutes later, at his station, he stepped outside the train, stood on the station’s platform and yelled: “Alex, which way is the exit!?”. Everybody on the train looked at me. I smiled. “Go right! Right, Amigo! Take care.”

… five minutes late. I run into the Orchestre Métropolitain, scan my ticket and go upstairs. The performance had started and the lights were down. An employee at the door told me that I can sit anywhere. I went inside and scanned the auditorium. There were not too many empty seats, so I went to the back of the room. Found a place in the middle and to get there, I had to pass three men. I walked up to the row, apologized and squeezed through them. The empty seat was next to an older man. I asked if it was taken and if I can sit there. He was very awkward, until another man, whom I passed a few seconds ago, waved at me showing to sit down. I thought maybe I was too loud and disturbing my neighbours. It wasn’t the reason.

A couple of minutes went by and the orchestra went hammering. The man next to me started giggling and doing weird hand movements. I then heard some animal-like noises coming from the rows behind. I realized that the guy who waved at me earlier was a nurse or some sort of supervisor. And the people in those couple of seats were mentally challenged, bought from an establishment by their caretakers. I immediately remembered the blind man, whom I helped not too long ago.

People around me were disturbing, and I didn’t get to fully enjoy the performance. But it’s ok. I was at the right place, at the right time. That day’s experience had something to teach me. The lesson revealed itself when I got back home. I felt a lot of pressure inside. A heaviness. A weight on my chest. I went to connect with it in my meditation.

I realized that I am so lucky! The man is blind. Completely blind. Can’t see anything. But I can. I was blaming myself for swimming 3 kilometres at the race pace instead of 4. Those people at the performance will never get to know what it feels like to swim even 100 meters without stopping. I don’t appreciate what I have. Not at all. I don’t appreciate that I am completely healthy and fit as f*ck. I realized how rich I was. How blessed I was! God gave me everything I have. I exist only because of him. I was given the opportunity to leave Ukraine and see many places in the World. I live in a country without war. I am in a country of opportunities. How many people were sent to help me? How blessed I am! Complete strangers helped me out many times. All the women who loved me, and whom I loved. They were my blessings, my angels, and without them, I would’ve been someone different. I am truly grateful for all of them, their love and their support. My friends… All the times we had together. All the laughs. I am such a lucky man. My parents. My brother. My dog. OMG, Mr. Blake on his own is a dog worth living for. He is such a gift! The education I was given. The work I am doing now. Every time, when I thought that it was a bottom, God pulled me out. All the truths about myself that were revealed to me. All the knowledge that was shared with me. My life is so much deeper and more fulfilling now. I experienced such an intense feeling of gratitude. Everything that happened in my life, happened FOR me. I was always looked after. I was helped so many times. I was given so many opportunities. My heart was overfilled with gratitude from realizing all the blessings I was given. I am a very, very lucky man. Truly. I never won a lottery, but, perhaps, I just had an experience of it.

I feel bad for the men that I met today. My blind brother would’ve really liked to hear the orchestra play. It is a tragedy to lose a vision. It is even worse to know that his eyes could’ve been saved, having the right amount of money for the surgery. Mentally challenged people. On the outside, it seemed like they were struggling. I have no idea what they are going through, on the inside.

Needy People

Needy people stand out from the crowd. The bigger the void, the harder they search for someone to fulfill it.

Needy of love.
Needy of affection.

They are looking for someone who would relieve their anxieties and comfort them. Someone who would put all ducks in order and make them feel in control. Someone who would understand them better than they themselves do and make sense of their own feelings.

Many grown-ups are kids who want to be parented. Girls are looking for fathers. Boys for mamas.

There are many upset kids playing the role of an adult. They were hurt by mama or papa, a long time ago. Time has passed and even after they moved out of their parents’ nests, they have never left their parents.

I will generalize.

If you had, or at least you think you had, a good childhood and enjoyed a good relationship with your parents, then you will seek someone who would match your parents’ profile. It makes sense. We were nicely treated, so we would find the same, familiar relationship model. A woman would search for a father substitute and a man would search for someone who reminds him of his mother. 

Scenario number two also involves seeking a parent figure, however for a different reason. The reason is to take revenge. Those boys who were raised by less than affectionate mothers grow up needy off love. As children, they were deprived of physical touch and mothers’ affection. They learned to work for love. Love for them is something to “deserve”. They believe that they cannot be loved just as they are. They have never felt unconditional love. There is this army of little boys in adult meat suits. They achieve, accomplish, and impress. They all have a six-pack, a sleeve tattoo and perhaps a beard. They spend incredible amounts of money on cars, trucks, boats and all kinds of status-accesorries. “Look at me! I deserve to be loved!”. They haven’t gotten to the root cause of their need to be seen and loved. These are boys, who haven’t grown up to be men, and still, strive to deserve their mother’s love and approval. You are seeking in the wrong place, Amigo.

If a person tries very hard to make an impression – that’s a sign of unresolved issues. 
If he is looking for love so hard, then he has very little of his own.

As humans, our purpose in life to learn and evolve. No matter what plans for life you have, life will teach you a few lessons. Life will push you to grow, and you will misinterpret liberation opportunities for “problems”. That’s classic. So, these boys are crowding bars and nightclubs in search of women who would help them resolve their boy-issues and grow to be a man. This woman will most likely match the profile of the one who hurt him the most and toward whom he holds a grudge. He will keep finding the same woman with different faces until he manages to resolve and heal.

He finds “the one”.
He demands her affection and love, however, he can never accept it. He is needy.
No matter how much she gives him, it would never be enough.
He would punish her for not loving him enough.
He must forgive.
He will open the wound. 
He will grieve. Big time…
He will heal.

He will know that he resolved the issue and healed when he meets a totally different person. Unlike any other relationships that he had before.

He must find love within. He must accept himself as is. 

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The Critic. The Fear Of Feelings

I am so sick and tired of this bitch-voice inside my head. The Critic.

I went into a meditation on a quest to get to know my critic. Why do you make me feel so bad? There must be a legitimate reason. Indeed, I saw myself as a teenager. The state I am currently in is the same as 15 years ago. No energy. Depression. Apathy. I saw myself laying on my bed, in my mom’s apartment and staying into the ceiling. I was living for the weekends when I would get drunk and fall into oblivion. Time spent with my friends – was the only thing that I was looking for. I was hating my reflection in the mirror. I was being afraid of criticism. I was being afraid to be left alone.

And now, the critic kept pounding.
It told me how hopeless my situation was.
It told me that there were no solutions to my miserable existence.

As a teenager, I remember thinking of suicide. I remember waking up in the morning and regretting that I did. I was feeling drained. No desire to do anything. I was always tired and could sleep for the entire day. The thought of never waking up felt like a relief. I was searching for an escape in my dreams. I was never smart enough. I was always fat in my own eyes. I was never enough. Never.

From time to time, I would accumulate enough energy for random acts of bravery to start a new good habit, start a business or leave a draining relationship. Somehow I found enough energy to escape to the USA. That was a miracle. Really.

With my Critic on my shoulders, I managed to go through many difficult things in life. It disregards it all. The Critic keeps telling me how worthless I am. How dum, weak, unskilled, fat I am. Despite all the great things I’ve accomplished – I am no good. A burden to this World.

My life goes by and I continue carrying this Bitch on my shoulders. It talks to me in the most defeating ways. It makes me believe that he is Me. It shames and manipulates me. It is abusive and violent. God, set me free from him. 

My life passes and I remain afraid. I won’t stick up for myself and fight back. I am afraid to make things worse. I forget that the voice in my head is not me. No matter what I do in life – it will never stop abusing me.

How different my life would be, without self-defeating thoughts?
How different my life would be, without constant self-criticism?

I claim my life energy back. I refuse to give it away. I have my life to live and I want to live it as a free man. Dear God, free me from this energy-sucking, abusive creature. It does not belong to me. I am different. Transform the Critic into a helper, even though he thinks that he is helping me. He does not.

The Critic takes my energy away.
The Critic makes me feel hopeless.
The Critic blocks me from feeling and living. 

He blocks me from many life experiences and great things. He won’t allow me to dream freely. He won’t allow me to open myself up. He is afraid that if let me take full responsibility for my life and ask for great experiences — they might happen. He is afraid of me becoming great. He is afraid of great success. I also know that the Critic has the best intentions for me. He wants me safe. He protects me from feeling too much. He won’t allow me to see who I could become. He keeps me feeling worthless and miserable, so I never get disappointed. He won’t let the energy flow through me, so I don’t do anything risky. 

What has happened in the past that made disappointment so intolerable? I want to know. What would happen if I gave myself permission to dream and feel deeply? I want to be completely free, at least in my dreams. What would happen if I let myself drop my guard and open up to the World. Scary. Risky. Dangerous. Life-threatening. 

Inside myself, the Inner Critic is a guard. It protects a part of me that is so scared to feel, that it would give up any chance of success out of fear of pain. It would numb itself, so it doesn’t feel anything. Deeply inside, I am so afraid to feel…

I COULD be that guy that I dreamed of becoming.
I COULD be in the top ten Ironman finishers. That’s the fact.
I COULD have an awesome, well-paying job. That’s the fact.
I COULD be in a loving relationship with beautiful and amazing women.
I COULD be living the life of my own design, BUT I choose to believe otherwise.

The Bitch voice blends with mine, making me think that it is me and it sucks all the life out of me. 

Free me up from self-limiting beliefs.
Free me up from self-criticism and self-sabotage.
Remove the blockages that prevent me from feeling, dreaming and living to the fullest.
Remove the fear that I have against living life without limits.

I want to be free. At least in my dreams and desires. Let me fly above the ceiling of my mind.

The Bitch is afraid of the feelings.

It took away my hope. 
It won’t allow me to dream. 
It took away and blocked my energy. 
It kept beating me down until I submit to it and fall into a state of depression.
Don’t have dreams. It is safer that way. Don’t hope for anything. Nothing can really hurt you when you are hopeless. Depression is a defence against feelings. It explains why highly sensitive people are more prone to suffer from depression.

As I write this, I want the Bitch know that whatever comes in my life – I can handle it. I have tools and wisdom to handle my own emotions and feelings. I am no longer a little boy. My purpose in life is to experience, learn and feel a wide variety of emotions. I want to amaze myself. I want to enjoy myself. I want to flow.

Let me take full responsibility and write my life’s script. It will be an unbelievable story.
It will have ups and downs, turns and twists. I will go through incredible experiences, feelings and emotions. I need the protective part of me to release its blocks and allow me to feel. I need the Bitch to stop blocking me from hope. I need its cooperation. Let me feel deeply. Let me live fully. And even if none of my dreams become real – I still want to try.

I can handle failure.
I can handle great success.
I can handle love.

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I STOPPED GOING TO THE MOVIES

This essay was born on an evening hike with Blake.

Wasn’t planning to go. Felt down. Blake found his leash and brought it to me in his mouth. It was so cute, that I could not refuse. I dictated my thoughts to Siri, as I walked through the forest.

I stopped watching movies. Instead, I watch the movie of my mind. It’s free. All I need is to close my eyes. And watch what it does. Backflips, carrots, Saltos. We fly back into the past, and project into the future. Sometimes I see myself from the above. Sometimes I find a hidden treasure – something that was always there but I never noticed before. Sometimes it repeats itself, but other times it impresses me with its creativity. No movie can compete with my own mind. Perhaps in future, we would have the capability to project on the outside, what happens inside our minds in real-time. That would be a hell of a movie. Only a few, mature individuals would agree to hit the share button. It takes courage to reveal what’s inside.  Perhaps a meta-verse is in our heads. Our imagination. The World we create in our head IS the parallel reality. In it, we can be anyone and do anything, but more often than not we choose to be miserable. Not by choice, perhaps our story determines what kind of world we create. You cannot create something beautiful out of something ugly. Once you become self-aware and conscious, you take the front seat in your life’s movie. Not only visual and audio but all sensory capabilities of your body are up to your disposal. Your consciousness is being fed all the sensory data in real-time, with zero latency or delay. Just hold on to your seat and try not to sh*t yourself when an action scene comes on the screen. Also, not to mention, you can not leave the auditorium. Correction. Eventually, you will, but that’s not fun either. You won’t go home. You’re going to be 5 feet below the ground when the movie ends. How is that for an attraction? The ultimate experience. 

I wish I never lose this prism. I wish I never fall asleep and go back to associating myself with my thoughts, reactions and feelings. I wish to maintain this frame of mind until the end of the show. 

Spirituality is a lifestyle. It enhances and expands life. Once you saw, you cannot unseen. At best, you could pretend to play the game that everybody plays. In fact, that’s a very wise choice, I think. You don’t even need a spiritual partner. Someone cute, who triggers and challenges you will work just fine. He or she will add to your experience. It is foolish to engage in abusive and non-living a relationship. Of course, you should not choose suffering, when it can be avoided. What I’m saying is that when you are conscious and aware – even suffering can provide you with a sensory experience worth living. We could participate in choosing a storyline of our lives, however, to a minimum degree. Expanding our influence requires taking a director’s seat. That means responsibility. The responsibility of God is incompatible with inner criticism and shame. Such responsibility can become an impossible burden for an unprepared and polluted person. Once responsibility is reassigned, magic things start happening. At first, if you notice, it could blow your mind. It scares and many people choose to retract back into their known way of living. No judgment. Responsibility is a heavy burden for an unprepared person. Once you are up to speed and learned some basics of movie-making, you can enhance the experience by increasing your sensitivity. To live is to feel. The wider your sensory range, the greater the experience. The more you feel – the richer your life is. You stop numbing yourself with food, drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, and obsessions. You commit that no matter what comes next, you will handle it on your own, without running away, distracting, or numbing yourself. Things will start coming up and you will get triggered. Do you have the courage to stay with the feeling and get to know it? Where does it come from? Look within, look outside. Very soon it becomes a hell of a movie. No day is like another. Every minute, every moment things come up and you register them in your consciousness. It becomes a 24-hour reality show. Even in your sleep. 

There is no end to mastering sensitivity and awareness. As long as you live, you get better and better at feeling and sensing. One life is not enough. Every age brings a new sensory experience and a new perspective. There is no bad age as each one provides you with a different lens to see old things.  

Death is peaceful death is loving. There are no reasons to be afraid of death. It’s like a COVID shot. Hurts for a second, and then it’s over. Don’t be afraid to die, but be afraid to miss on experiences that life holds. Be afraid to leave your life like a rock, feeling barely anything.

Any movie suggestions?

What does it mean to be a man?

To be a man of honour.
To be a man of code.
To be a man.

What is masculine? 
What is feminine?

I don’t believe in a 50/50 split in a relationship. Gender equality is a myth. Yes, women can do many difficult things. My mother shoots an AK-47 and jumps off the helicopter. There are police officers and firemen who are women. There are military women. I have no doubts that women can do anything that they put their minds to. What I am saying is that men and women are different. What I am saying is that we can not equalize the opposites. 

There is a reason why I was born with balls.

There are many children in adult meat suits. There are many “neutral” men who prefer to play it safe. Emotional impotent who voluntarily castrated themselves just to be accepted and liked by women in particular. Emotional impotent who shy away from responsibilities. There is a lot of fake masculinity. Stupid baboons playing a man out of the fear to be exposed. Perhaps under the macho mask, there is an emotionally underdeveloped child. A kid, whose ego is so fragile and precious that he puts up a scary fence, so no one attempts to approach him. There is a coward who is afraid of pain. Disgusting.

My life’s mission is to figure out the meaning of a man and live it.
What does it mean to be a man? 

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