GROUNDED SPIRITUALITY

Low Self-esteem (and what to do about it)

2012-01-23T15:42:00.000+01:00

“I wish I could show you, when you are in light or in darkness, the astonishing light of your

own being”

~ Hafiz

You may suspect that you have low self-esteem,

but you probably have no idea what to do about it!

Most articles about self-esteem talk about thinking positively, making affirmations, smiling a lot, etc. These things are just band-aids – they will only serve to suppress the truth about how you feel about yourself for a short time. I am not interested in band-aids. I am interested in prevention and cure…

In this post I’m going to tell you what self-esteem is really all about; how it is negatively affected; why I think it’s hugely important that we do do something about it – and what to do.

What is self-esteem?

(other than a term that is much used and little understood)

My definition of self-esteem is 5 words:

~ ‘how deeply you love yourself’ ~

So, how deeply do you love yourself?!

(Don’t worry, I’ll help you answer that question quite accurately in just a moment)…

I believe this is perhaps one of the most important questions you will ever ask, and here’s why: the extent to which you love yourself dictates how successful you are in every area of your life – relationships, work, and health (emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual health).

I have a nice way of answering the above question. It is called The Mirror Exercise*, and there are 3 simple steps:

1. Look yourself in the eye in a mirror.

2. Tell yourself sincerely: “I love you”.

3. See how it feels, and measure the feeling out of 10 (see below).

If your self-esteem is intact (if you do indeed love yourself deeply) then the exercise should be fun!

However, for most people there is at least some difficulty – as they say the words there is a feeling ofstress. This is because human beings are hardwired not to lie. So if you have low self-esteem (you don’t love yourself), telling yourself “I love you” feels like a lie – it feels stressful.

Lie detector machines (polygraph machines) work by detecting the biological symptoms of stress. But you don’t need a polygraph machine – you know when you are lying, because you feel the stress. That’s why this exercise is really quite an accurate (although not scientific) indication of how high your self-esteem is.

So the mirror exercise is to do the above 3 steps. The final step, measuring the feeling of stress on a scale of 0 – 10, works like this:

10/10 stress: as you say the words you probably feel quite uncomfortable, and you just don’t believe it at all. This means that you have very low self-esteem.

0/10 stress: no stress, therefore high self esteem.

Go ahead and do it now..

~ (I’ll wait right here) ~

So, if you just did the exercise, you probably felt at least a little discomfort or stress as you said those 3 words. Here’s why:

We should love ourselves completely. Human beings are Loving beings. The essence of the human experience is love itself. Your essence is love.

In Yogic terms this is known as Satchitananda: pure existence, pure consciousness, pure bliss. In a word – love.

But almost all of us suffer the consequences of unresolved trauma – usually much more than we realize.

Childhood trauma…

Birth trauma…

Trauma experienced by our Mother whilst we were ‘in utero’…

Not to mention ancestral trauma: the emerging branch of science called Epigenetics has demonstrated conclusively that trauma from the lives of our ancestors – especially trauma from the time when our egg was created in the ovary of our Mother (when she was a fetus in the uterus of her Mother*) – directly impacts on our life, even our genetic predispositions and biological constitution!

The kind of trauma that affects self-esteem the most is abuse trauma. And if you think that abuse is probably something that happens to a minority of those ‘other’ people, think again! There are perhaps as many as 99 different kinds of abuse, ranging from the more obvious (sexual) to the very subtle (emotional neglect). And abuse (defined here as a violation of one’s boundaries) is entirely subjective…

Some of the consequences of abuse are that we feel guilty, ashamed, and responsible for what happened. Essentially, we feel that there is something wrong with us – and if there is something wrong with us, we have a very good reason to love ourselves less, right?

Our self-esteem suffers.

My theory is that abuse trauma is the cause of most of mankind’s problems. Not long after establishing this theory, something happened that blew my mind. I was sitting at my desk, thinking and writing about this theory when someone sent me a link to a book:

“The Origins of War in Child Abuse”  by Lloyd Demause.

So I realized that other people were also coming to the very same conclusions as I was. And I don’t believe in ‘co-incidence’.

The purpose of this post is not to explain the mechanism of trauma and abuse in detail. If you’re interested to know more about that check back later, because I’ll be posting articles about it soon. Right now though I want to stay focused on self-esteem. And what I want to communicate is this:

1. Most people don’t love themselves nearly enough.

2. This low self-esteem causes many, many problems, both on the personal level, and globally (think war, corruption, and environmental destruction).

3. It’s not so hard to fix the problem on the personal level (thus directly and powerfully influencing the global).

When is your self-esteem determined?

“To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance” ~ Oscar Wilde

If you go through a painful divorce after 20 years of marriage, can that affect your self-esteem? I don’t think so: I think that the experience will simply expose your underlying low self-esteem (that was always there even while you were married). I believe that our self-esteem is set in childhood, perhaps up until the age of around 21 years old. Early trauma (at birth and pre-school) is probably the most impactful on how much we love ourselves.

However, another theory (which does not necessarily negate the childhood theory, but may just be another perspective on it) is that we inherit our self-esteem. After all, the trauma that we experience in our lifetime is usually an echo of similar trauma that our ancestors experienced. So it could be that we inherit poor self-esteem, and then attract experiences that reinforce it (such as divorce), and perpetuate the pattern.

Either way, it does not really matter. Two things are important in this – being able to recognize the effect of the trauma (as opposed to the actual trauma itself, which is far less relevant), and being able to heal those consequences.

With modern healing techniques like Reference Point Therapy, which are simple, fast, and highly effective, we are able to pinpoint the exact consequence of the trauma (which is usually a subconscious association between one of our survival instincts, and safety), and heal it (release the subconscious association).

The effect of this kind of healing is a subtle change in all aspects of one’s life. Relationships, feelings, emotional reactions, and even the physical structure of the body (posture, lung capacity, etc) are transformed.

And the beautiful thing is that the change is not a particular change, but a wave of change – it is an ongoing process, namely, of us coming back to our true selves: love.

The analogy I use is this: if you have walked for a long time with a stone in your shoe, it will eventually affect every area of your life – your posture, your emotions, your deeper feelings, your sense of self-identity (ego), even the expression on your face!

But when you remove the stone, all of these changes do not instantly disappear – it takes time for each aspect of you to settle back to normal, and even the expression on your face will gradually, over time, relax.

Similarly, when releasing subconscious blockages, the effects may be felt instantly, but are always ongoing…

How do you raise your self-esteem?

“You can’t build joy on a feeling of self-loathing.” ~ Ram Dass

As with anything else, you solve a problem permanently only by changing what caused the problem.

In this case, low self-esteem is caused by the consequences of unresolved trauma. When you heal the trauma, you instantly begin to love yourself more.

I wish I could tell you in a short blog post how to heal trauma yourself, but it’s not quite as simple as that – it takes a number of days of intensive training to be able to safely find the blockages, identify their roots, and heal them. It’s quite simple really – you don’t need a degree, but you do need proper training.

I hope though that this post sheds some light on something that I believe to be the key to a more sustainable, compassionate, and peaceful human society: how much we love ourselves as individuals.

Participate in a simple social experiment?

“The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.” ~ Joseph Campbell

I would like to propose what could be a useful social experiment: when you do the mirror exercise post the ‘score’ (out of 10) as a comment below (along with the feelings that came up too, if you like). It only takes a moment to do this, and may be done anonymously, and if this article gets 1000 reads, and 5% of people participate that’s 50 people – a reasonable number of results to compare and analyze . The results will either support or undermine my theory that most of us suffer from low self-esteem, and either way, it’ll be interesting! If you also write a little about what feelings came up as you did the exercise, I will do my best to answer your comment in a helpful way.

And share it up folks – spread the love, as always. Thank you!

* Biology lesson: a woman’s eggs are all produced long before she is born. They are formed in the ovaries at around the time of 3 months gestation in the womb of her own mother.

Bonus: click here for a fascinating and entertaining documentary about epigenetics.

I believe I first discovered The Mirror Exercise in a book, but I have no recollection of which book. So please, if you have ever come across this technique before, let me know so that I can properly give credit to it’s creator? Thank you! (edit: I've been told that it may have been Louise L. Hay)

Newspaper interview re: RPT

2012-01-17T11:38:00.002+01:00

I was interviewed recently about Reference Point Therapy for a national newspaper. The journalist asked some excellent questions, so I decided to write up the transcript of the interview for a blog post.
Here it is:

- RPT is the fastest and mostefficient method in the world for healing trauma. On what is it based?

It is based on two things – the science ofepigenetics (which has proven that ancestral trauma directly affects our ownlife), and the ancient wisdom of many spiritual traditions, which assert thatthe essence of the human being is pure consciousness.

- What kind of traumas can behealed in this way? Is this specific traumas – like car accidents or death – orcan there also be subconscious traumas that block the individuals development.

Well, so far it seems that any kind oftrauma may be healed with this method. The only kind of trauma that we have noexperience trying to heal yet is the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder of soldiersreturning from combat (we simply didn’t have the opportunity to work on thisyet). But car accidents, grief, serious abuse trauma (sexual, physical,emotional, etc), childhood abandonment and neglect… I have not come across anykind of trauma yet that was not healed with this method. And yes, subconscioustraumas do block our development, and it is the very purpose of RPT to unblockour development!

- Do you perhaps know the answerto the question “ why some people are more prone to accidents / bad thingshappening to them”. Is this perhaps to do with subconscious blockages, energywhich attracts these things?

As a matter of fact, I do! The human beingis made up of energy (consciousness). When we experience our highest potential(pure consciousness), we vibrate energetically in ‘tune’ with the world aroundus. But when our experience is blocked by the effects of unresolved trauma, wevibrate at a much lower level – and there is no ‘flow’. Being ‘in the zone’ isa well known expression – some people live in the zone. Others experience is fleetingly,but we all understand that it is possible. Ultimately, the extent to which weare able to live in the zone is the extent to which we have resolved ourtrauma. So yes, it is very much to do with subconscious blockages that attract‘negative’ experiences. Although life is messy, and there will always beexperiences that we would choose not to have – but a person who has a highlevel of consciousness will cope much better than someone who has manyunresolved issues.

- How does the session look? Howlong is it on average? How is it different from other therapies, which arerecommendable for eliminating traumatic events, (for example classicalpsychotherapy).

The session is entirely talk-based. Onaverage it is 90 minutes, but this depends on the therapist. It is most notablydifferent from other types of trauma therapy in that the actual trauma (whathappened) is not ‘relived’. The therapist only needs to know that somethinghappened (trauma). The nature of the trauma is irrelevant – because actually, wecannot heal the trauma itself (we cannot make it go away – because it happened,and we can’t change that!). What we can change is how it makes us feel now (the consequences of the trauma). Anothernotable difference is that unlike many other methods that take a long time toheal trauma (for example classical psychotherapy), RPT is very fast. Trauma canoften be healed permanently in just one session – this is because we get rightto the cause of the problem. And the cause of the problem, in case you are wondering,is survival instincts.

- People often are not aware howtraumas from the past define us. And they can’t even put them into words. Inwhat way does the therapist pull out trauma from a client which he isn’t evenaware of.

First of all, part of the training of anRPT therapist is in the development of intuition. So in the rare case that aclient really has no idea what causes their problem, I am always able to tellthem! However, I find that almost every client knows just as much as they needto know in order to heal themselves (with my help). If something is forgotten,it is because it is no longer needed. And RPT gives us the precise tools to beable to access exactly what we need to access in order to heal our problems andraise our consciousness.

- Can you perhaps give an exampleof the positive effects of the therapy (of course without names) or maybe ingeneral. How does the person who came to the session with deep trauma feel whenit’s no longer there. How perhaps does his thinking change, and his behavior?

One client had a 20-year history ofclinical depression, and had attempted suicide. When she came to me she hadtried countless different types of medical and alternative healing / therapy,including pharmaceutical drugs. Nothing helped. After one session she washealed (the cause had been childhood abuse trauma), and when I saw her again 18months later (recently) she remains free of depression. I also found out thatshe had been diagnosed (18 months ago) with a serious thyroid problem that requiredsurgery. After our session, her thyroid was also healed, and remains so to thisday, as evidenced by regular medical check-ups. This is just one example ofmany such ‘miraculous’ cases. It seems miraculous on the surface, but actually,when you understand that trauma is responsible for most of our problems, it isno miracle at all!

How does the person feel after healing –lighter, less burdened. The feeling is usually subtle (no fireworks orhysteria!), but there is a definite transformation. They will notice that thechange is apparent in every area of their life: relationships, self-esteem,clarity of thought, emotional reactions… because what has changed is the personthemself. They are more themself now. So everything changes, in a subtle, butpowerful and positive way – and most importantly, the change is permanent.

- Some people, on certain pointsof their lives, can no longer go on. They are controlled by fears, for whichthey don’t have a reasonable explanation. Can these blockages have as their source,unconscious trauma.

Almostall subconscious blockages are caused by theeffects of unresolved trauma.

- The therapy is based on thescience of consciousness. Does it work in spite of the fact that the clientdoes not believe in it.

It is not necessary to believe anything forRPT to work! Any therapy that requires beliefon the part of the client in order to be successful relies on the placeboeffect. RPT recognizes the placebo effect, and is far more successful thanplacebo based therapies. One of the reasons for this is that with RPT we alsorecognize that a person can only heal a problem when they take responsibilityfor it – in fact, taking responsibility is the first step (and the hardest). Sotaking responsibility is what is necessary, and actually, it is the opposite ofbelief!

- Can we help ourselves with thistherapy also with physical problems.

Yes, because the physical body is also anexpression (albeit, a material expression) of consciousness. Problems thatmanifest in the body are almost always first experienced on the mental andemotional level, but we suppress them. The body then has no choice but to showsymptoms on the physical level. All aspects of us are made up of consciousness,and when we heal the subconscious blockage, all aspects of us are healed –mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual.

- In what way can we use themethod in our profession and maybe also in general in more positive way ofliving or acting?

This is a very good question. Really, youare asking whether this technique is only for people with ‘problems’, and theanswer is emphatically ‘no’! Despite enjoying wonderful physical, emotional,and mental health, I continue to practice this method on myself. Why? Becauseas we raise our consciousness by becoming more aware, and by releasing ourfears, we enjoy greater levels of joy, inner peace, and abundance. For me, RPTis much more than a therapy. It is a unique method of personal development andspiritual growth.

Funny '2 Cows' thing.

2011-12-02T09:47:00.001+01:00

This popped up in my Facebook 'newsfeed'. It's from the page of one K.C.Locke, who got it from a Matt McNeil. Neither of whom are my 'Facebook friends'. So I have no idea how or why it came to my attention...

I have no idea how Facebook works, and I'm very happy for that. Social Media is insidious and dangerous, and yes, I know, it's also great in many ways too, but I'm happy I'm not a Social Media expert. Or maybe it would be better if I was. I. don't. know.

Anyway, this is hilarious, and I hope it makes you laugh out loud (LOL) as I did.

SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbor.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk
away.
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of
credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity
swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back,
with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a
Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one
more.
You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you
with nine cows.
No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads because you want
three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and
produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called 'Cowkimon' and market it worldwide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your
country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a democracy.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.

Profound healing: transformation of physical and emotional problems in 1 session. But what about 18 months later?

2011-11-25T09:30:00.000+01:00

Last night I gavea presentation near Ljubljana.

Nataša came.

I barelyrecognized her, but as soon as she said her name I knew which Nataša it was.

I’d met her 18 monthsago, just the once. She came to me for a single healing session. The email shesent me afterwards has been on my website as a testimonial ever since.

She’d beensuffering from depression and (to put it mildly) ‘dark thoughts’ for most ofher life.

Despite seekinghelp from multiple doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, and healers, nothing andno one had been able to help her.

When she came tome she had also been having serious problems with her thyroid and was duesurgery to have it removed. That was actually the catalyst that led her to me.

The result of thatsingle session:

total transformation...

No moredepression, and no need for surgery – normal thyroid function.

The email she sentme after the session said this:

“My son neverwanted to cuddle me before… now he’s constantly cuddling up next to me, and thelight in his eyes when he looks at me says it all.

Thank you.”

18 months laterher thyroid is still fine, and she is still free of depression.

One. Single.Session.

Sometimes peopleaccuse me of narcissistic self-promotion, self-aggrandizement, and writing thatreads like advertising.

I get that, reallyI do. Everywhere we look people are trying to sell us something.

And as the son ofan advertising executive I’m particularly sensitive to it – the very, very lastthing I want to do is come across like that, believe me!

But the thing is,it’s just not about me.

It’s about thiswonderful, miraculous therapy: profound healing that actually works (on thecausal level), permanently.

Strong feelings of Anger, Suspicion, and Anxiety - cleared in one session.

2011-11-18T14:57:00.001+01:00

Great client (thank you Becky!), great results, great testimonial. Unfortunately my technical skills are not so great so it's a poor quality video, but I think you can see enough to know what worked and what didn't!

To summarize: I did one session a little over a month ago with Becky, and a week later we did a short follow up session (included in price of the first session: part of the deal when you book a session with me).

So all in all a little over 2 hours of work together.

3 separate big problems: feelings of anger (measured a month ago as 9/10), anxiety (8/10) and suspicion / distrust (10/10) cleared in one session. If that isn't a good result I don't know what is!

Why healing, personal development and spirituality are really the same thing.

2011-10-20T13:29:00.000+02:00

Kiwan and Jai. Masters of Simplicity.

Sometimes, life seems so damn complicated, doesn’tit?! I have an intimate relationship with my wife to maintain and nourish; mychild to educate, support, and nurture; my work to soak up my passion andcreativity… and all the while the whole world seems to be trying to sell mesomething!

But lately, more and more, I’m feeling like everythingis actually incredibly simple. Because the root of all these various andcomplex problems is the same – me!

When I get myself in order, everything else falls intoplace. Life becomes, once again, very joyful.

I used to think that I had to do lots of differentthings in order to get myself into that joyful space: Yoga; meditation; eatjust right; get a balance between work and play; personal development work sothat my relationships would work (as long as my partner also did personaldevelopment work!)… God, when I look back at what I was doing I cringe...

Now I realize that there is only one thing I need todo, and all the labels I used to apply really boil down, in essence, to thisone thing:

Healing is this one thing.

Personal development is the same as this one thing.

Spiritual growth comes about as a result of this onething.

Healing.

I’m not talking about the word ‘healing’ as it’s cometo be used so much – as a kind of band-aid. This healer and that healer who dothis and that, and eventually, after a while, you realize that actually,nothing has been healed!

I’m talking about profound, permanent transformation.

The reason why healing, personal development, andspirituality are the same thing: because we are already perfect.

There is nothing to do, to achieve, to get. It’s allthere already, right there, inside you.

All we have to do, is let go of what’s blocking itform coming out!

When Buddha said: “Be a light unto thyself”, I’mpretty sure that’s what he meant: ‘just look at yourself, you’re perfect!’

When Jesus said “All these things, and greater, youshall do too”, he was saying that he was nothing special – just an ordinaryhuman being like you and I, who had realized his perfection, and through it,was able to achieve miracles. And that we all can do that too!

We’re all so beautiful, amazing, and perfect. But wedon’t love ourselves enough. And that’s the crux of the matter. We simply haveto let go of the blockages that stop us from loving ourselves.

That’s healing (and it’s really very simple).

It’s also personal development and spiritual growth.

Mark Ruffalo Occupies Wall Street with passion, compassion, intelligence, charisma

2011-10-14T10:08:00.000+02:00

I was an actor once. A terrible actor. I made audiences cringe. I myself cringed inwardly on stage. I had no confidence. I was in a play at the National Theatre once (just the once) and my parents got in the elevator with Neil Kinnock (head of the opposition party at the time). That's my claim to acting fame. That's how bad I was. Thank God I don't have to act anymore; I found my real purpose in life.

Then there's Mark Ruffalo. He's a great actor. I could watch him all day. There's an openness and an integrity about him that is very attractive. I've seen a few of his movies and I always felt like he's the kind of guy I'd like to get to know. A good guy.

Then there's Occupy (Wall Street). I love that movement. I put the brackets around the Wall Street part because I don't feel it's really about Wall Street any more. It's about... no, wait.

Occupy has become a global movement and it's only going to get bigger. It's going to get bigger and bigger because more and more people are awakening to the simple truth of who they really are. More and more people are becoming conscious of their own innate power. We are not sheep. We are not here to be herded around like cattle, victims of a system that is based on greed and fear, so that 1% can prosper and be free while 99% live without dignity...

We are human beings: perfect, beautiful, powerful expressions of pure consciouness. We are free already, and as more and more people awaken to that simple truth by letting go of survival based fears, the system in which we live is changing. Occupy is a sign of that change - and I for one am overjoyed to see it happening.

So what's Occupy about? I'll let Mark Ruffalo explain it much better than I can:

And an equally intelligent, even more eloquent 'call to arms':

Somebody can be. And it’s my pleasure.

2011-10-08T02:00:00.001+02:00

I just did apresentation in Zagreb. I presented Reference Point Therapy (my healing work), and I did a verypublic demonstration of it.

The 3^rdlevel course of RPT is called Mastering the Miraculous.

Since I took thatcourse in November 2009 I’ve been able to master miracles.

And tonight was abeautiful example of that.

First of all – whohas ever heard of a ‘healer’ claiming to have the “fastest, most efficienthealing technique in the world”.

Secondly, who ever had the balls to prove that claim with a public demonstration?

Well actually,there are a bunch of us RPT teachers doing just that – I’m not the only one...

So tonight, Iasked for a show of hands in the audience: who wants to heal something, rightnow?..

5/6 people puttheir hands up.

I asked each ofthem what the problem that they wanted to heal was.

Then I intuitivelychose the one I thought most suited a public demo. (Not too complex, easy to‘measure’ a change).

The woman I chosehad a ‘calcified’ shoulder. Medical diagnosis, long-term (2 year) problem.Chronic pain.

Before the session– pain was fairly low: 2 /10 whilst standing; 3/10 moving the arm.

Mobility in theshoulder was clearly impaired.

The woman saidthat sometimes the pain was so bad it made her cry.

I asked her a fewquestions:

When did the painstart?

What else washappening in her life around that time?

We ‘felt into’ thepain. A childhood memory came up to do with being abandoned.

I healed thefeelings, the subconscious associations, and the ancestral trauma that causedit all. I also healed it for all of us that were present, and humanity as awhole, because it was an issue that I know is very real for many people today.

Afterwards, when Iasked her to move her arm, there was no pain. Full mobility. She cried with gratitude and gaveme one of the sweetest hugs.

There was amedical doctor in the audience who was utterly gobsmacked. She signed up forboth RPT courses Level 1 and 2 on the spot.

And when I camehome I had an email that read (I’ll paraphrase, because the sender’s Englishwas hard to understand):

“Dear Ben

I was onpresentation of Reference point therapy in (Zagreb).

Not sure ifsomebody can (be healed) just bybeing

there at thedemonstration healing

but I feelrelief (like somebody understand me)

It feels likesilence and you can't describe it with words.

Thank you verymuch”

Somebody can be.And it’s my pleasure.

Spread. The. Love. Share (using the green button below) the good news: healing is easy, fast, fun. Because we're meant to be healthy, happy, and free - it's our birthright.

Live life like...

2011-10-01T11:02:00.000+02:00

Many thanks to the wonderful artist JellyVampire for this beautiful, inspiring, and uplifting artwork:

Get off the page, out of your box.

Be creative and bold and dance the dance of your life with wild abandon...

Like you've got nothing to lose.

Paint the canvas of your life liberally, generously,

With a flourish or whilst poring over every detail, but do it:

Like you've got nothing to lose.

Sing the song of your life with all the emotional color you can muster,

Every shade and nuance at your disposal.

Spare nothing and no-one, like

You've got nothing to lose.

Because really,

You have nothing to lose.

Pure beauty (A poem by Ben Ralston)

2011-09-27T23:26:00.003+02:00

Beauty is not something you buy in the aisles of drug stores,

Or (cosmetic) surgeries,

Or anywhere,

In fact.

Beauty is a feeling, deep within;

An overflowing, slow-flowing surge

that lifts and burns and Devours

With subtlety.

Pure beauty is the essence of life itself:

Show me a living being, and I’ll show you Beautiful.

Because when you feel that surge within

All of without is moved by it.

Beauty is the light that guides your eyes,

The waves that open your ears,

The nerves that soften your skin.

Beauty

That which feels.

We all want beauty.

But it’s in our desire to own it

That we lose sight

Of the only place it can really be found...

3 steps to profound healing (broken heart, bones, spirit)

2011-09-25T08:25:00.004+02:00

I bleed.

My heart bleeds out into the lonelynight, and only the yearning for daylight; only the memory of a better daygives me hope...

Do you know what I mean? I know you do.

At least on some level, you do.

I’m a healer. I work as a therapist, I counsel people,and I heal their wounds (mostly emotional, but also physical). I didn’t ever desire to do this. I wanted to do many things,but never this…

When it came on me though, I knew it was my calling.

Healing is the simplest, most natural thing in theworld. There are just 3 simple steps that you have to take to heal almostanything.

Of course, not everything can be healed. But even most things that arethought incurable can be.

And these are the 3 steps:

1. Takeresponsibility for it.

Whatever the problem, it’s your problem. Own it. It’s yours. Not anyoneelse’s.

Even though you may have thought in the past that itwas someone else’s fault.

Even if you wanted it to be someone else’s problem.

It isn’t. It wasn’t. It’s yours, and yours alone.

Ownit.

Face it.

Imaginethat this problem is (literally) in your hands. Hold it up before your eyes andlook into it deeply. This belongs to you alone. You alone can let it go.

Butfirst, you must own it.

When you have taken responsibility you no longer blame others; and you no longer look for outside of yourself for the answers.

You know that you are responsible for your own change.

Quite often people call me and ask if I can help theirpartner / parent / friend. I have learnt to say ‘no’ in those situations. If that person hadtaken responsibility, they would be calling me themselves. If they haven’ttaken responsibility, I can’t help them. Neither can you.

Youcannot make people change.

2. Findthe cause of the problem.

This is not so hard as it may seem, but it’s not aseasy as step 3. It’s not as hard as step 1 though. Most people don’t make itpast step 1. You should know that. If someone comes to me having taken step 1(having taken responsibility for their problem) then I can almost always help them. And when they do come, I havethe utmost respect – because I know what it takes to come to that point. Ittakes humility, and dignity, and courage. It takes being real. Most people don’t have that courage, andthat’s why the world is in the state it is in…but more of that in a moment.

To find the cause of the problem, there is a verysimple formula. Trace the problem (to use the analogy of a tree) to its roots.The topmost branches of the problem are in the head. The outermost symptoms arein the head (thoughts, beliefs, idea). The trunk of the problem is in the heart(emotions). The roots are in the gut(deeper feelings of trauma)… and the cause is in a reaction to those deep feelings of trauma. Thereaction is a survival instinct.

Ask the question “how does this problem make me feel?”And then keep on asking that question until you come to the deepest feeling.Then ask yourself: “When I feel that deepest feeling, what do I want to do?”

The answer will be a survival instinct – almost all of our problems are rooted inour survival instincts.

There are exceptions to this rule – secondarygain is the most common one.

But if you clear the secondary gain (the process isalmost identical to the one outlined above) then very often the problem fallsaway immediately.

Step 3: Heal the cause.

This is so easy as to be almost ridiculous.

Yes, that’s right. Healing is easy.

Taking responsibility is hard. Finding the cause is alittle tricky, but when you know how, it’s pretty easy too. But healing theroot cause of almost all our problems (gut-based survival instincts) is adoddle.

The cause of the problem is a subconscious blockage.To be specific, the blockage is a subconscious association between safety /survival and an instinct (fight, flight, and freeze – and their manyvariations: for example, fight may translate into feelings of wanting to run,hide, escape, etc.)

So if the nature of the problem is that it issubconscious, we heal it by simply making it conscious.

You see, our essence is pure consciousness. Light.

The blockage is like a shadow.

In the same way that you can remove a shadow by simplythrowing light on it, you heal the subconscious blockage by bringing the lightof your awareness to it.

This is mindfulness, and the power of it cannot beoverstated.

When I heal a client’s blockage, I bring us both intoa state of presence (here and now), and we acknowledge the blockage.

Our combined awareness (the light) bearing down on theblockage (shadow) makes it simply disappear.

The blockage is like an uninvited guest. When he isdiscovered, he leaves promptly. He is in fact waiting to be discovered, andwants to leave. He has a guilty conscience. He doesn’t belong there.

What belongs there is pure consciousness. When theblockage is removed, pure consciousness flows through the space againnaturally, spontaneously and joyfully.

***

This is the most important thing in the world! Thereis no issue more urgent. Nothing is more worthy of your attention, time, andenergy.

The world is in the state it’s in because so many ofus are motivated unconsciously by survival instincts. In one word: fear.

We behave the way we do as a species (war, abuse,greed, hypocrisy, corruption) not because we are innately bad. On the contrary,we are innately good – our essence is goodness, or God-ness ("made in the imageof God").

However, our innate goodness has been tainted by thevery thing that makes us so intelligent. Our higher thinking. Somewhere alongthe line human beings forgot how to quickly and easily release trauma (wild animals do it naturally). Weinstead learnt to hold on to our trauma. And those instincts thathelped us to survivethe trauma stayed locked in place – permanently switched on.

So that our lives become ruled by subconscious tendencies towards fighting (conquer, destroy, kill, argue, conflict, win, etc); flight (hide, run away, escape, remain passive, etc); and freezing (numbness, paralysis, stiffness, lock-down, tightening up, etc).

This is why you may be a highly evolved, spiritualperson, but have health, emotional, or psychological problems. Because there is somethingin your subconscious that trips you up and interferes with your essentialnature from expressing itself naturally.

It all comes down to survival instincts.

When enough of us heal these blockages, I am surethere will be peace on earth, because peacefulness is the natural inclinationof life. War is an aberration, like murder.

Death, killing, sickness - these are not aberrations –they are natural and necessary aspects of life. But war, murder, corruption andabuse are the consequence of un-released and un-healed traumas.

It’s so, so simple. We have the tools to forge a newsociety, a new earth, a new humanity.

Healing ourselves is the ultimate environmental activism.

It is a political act.

It is an expression of Ahimsa (non-violence) and Satya(truthfulness) and compassion.

Let us heal ourselves and each other.

Let us heal theglobal heart that is bleeding and crying out for us to stop abusing ourselves.

“He who saves one man saves mankind”

Save yourself. Save mankind.

Why I left Bangkok… part 3: "Tread softly, and with joy."

2011-09-15T11:56:00.000+02:00

After my unwittingincursion into the world of child prostitution - part1 - and my adventures with amphetamine crazed truck drivers and Thaigangsters - part2 - I was feeling pretty lost.

I’d been travelingalone for about a month and I was lonely.

One day I wasdriving through town on my motorbike and I started to feel ill again. The feverwasn’t quite gone yet. I pulled over to the side of the road and found myselfsitting at a table outside a small bar. I ordered a drink and before it arrivedI realized I was outside some kind of brothel.

There were about 5or 6 girls in the bar, lounging around and leaning over a couple of Dutchsailors.

The sailors wereabout 50 years old, heavily tattooed. I really wish I could remember myconversation with them because it was both hilarious and very interesting.

The expression on their faces (and the faces of all the men I saw inthat bar) stay with me though. They were like young men ‘on the pull’ – thatstrange kind of desperate intensity in their eyes (sexual desire) and a kind ofassumed (false) arrogance. They were trying to look confident and self-assured.In short: they wanted to be found attractive. I recall finding this veryamusing: they were in a brothel. They knew they only had to pay for what theywanted, and yet they still went through the suffering of the ‘chase’.

The girls were aninteresting bunch...
There was Jo-Jo: a very young, extremely sexually precociousgirl who was clearly interested in making as much money as fast as possible.

There was a tall,beautiful but strange-looking girl. Later, I found out that she was atranssexual. I don’t know if it’s politically correct to say ‘a transexual’,but that’s what she was: a boy, pretending to be a girl. I also don’t know ifit’s p.c. to say ‘pretending’, but that’s what s/he was doing, to be honest.‘Her’ name was Sumalee. She was very sweet. I liked her a lot. When I came tothe bar a few weeks later to say goodbye to them all, she went upstairs andcame back with a beautiful silver necklace which she gave to me, tearfully.

A silver necklace exactly like this one.

The Thais have anincredibly generous heart…

There was also‘Miaow’. She was quiet, and sad looking, and beautiful in a mysterious, sulkykind of a way. I remember thinking that she probably didn’t make much moneylike that…

I visited the baragain the next day – it was far more interesting than any of the temples I’dseen.

The girls all‘flirted’ with me of course, and I played along. I had no intention of hiringtheir services, but I was enjoying the fun and games too much to spoil things.I was sat there, the only guy there at the time (unless you count Sumalee!),surrounded by laughing and joking girls. At one point Sumalee asked me if I wasgoing to make one of the girls ‘happy’. So I had to explain that I had nointerest in paying for sex. I’ve never understood how someone can pay for sex.To me sex is about intimacy, and you can’t buy intimacy, can you? They alllooked disappointed, apart from Miaow, who looked at me somehow differentlyafter that…

They invited meout with them to a nightclub that evening, and I happily accepted.

I only rememberthat the music in the club was awful, and that we all got pretty drunk. Sumaleetried to seduce me, and I ended up going home with Miaow.

She came up tovery nervously and asked me if I’d like to spend the night with her. I told herthat I’d love to more than anything else in the world, but that I just couldn’tbring myself to pay for sex. She looked a bit pissed off, and just said:

“No money, justnight together.”

That’s how my timewith Miaow began.

We spent the nighttogether in her tiny room, and she was incredibly shy for a prostitute. Wedidn’t sleep much. We had sex, and talked a lot. She was very gentle, shy, andkind.

After we slept alittle she told me she had to go to work. I didn’t like it, but what could Ido? When I asked her not to go she impatiently snapped:

“No worry. I nogo with man”.

Then she left, andI was alone again.

Later that day,when I saw her, she asked me if I would like to spend some time together. Isaid yes. So she told her boss that she was taking time off work, and we spentthe next two weeks together.

Miaow had a small,brand-new, beautiful motorbike. A guy she had met from New Zealand had boughtit for her.

She was verysmart. She didn’t sleep with anyone who came to the bar unless she liked them.The other girls sold themselves to anyone, and made some money. But Miaow wouldchoose clients very, very carefully, she told me. She told me that she waslucky to have a boss who allowed her to work like that. Not only did she have abeautiful motorbike, but she also received money every month from variousformer ‘clients’ around the world. When I asked her why she worked like that,she told me she had a son, and asked me if I’d like to meet him. I said yes.

It wasn’t easy. Wewere both young (I was 21 but oh so immature for my age). Miaow was a littleolder but didn’t speak very good English. There were jealous arguments andmisunderstandings.

She took me to the Chiang Mai night market, where we ate the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life for theequivalent of a few pennies. She chatted animatedly to the locals, and I feltlike the luckiest person in the universe. I was sitting there experiencing lifeon another planet as if I belonged…

After a few days,we drove on her motorbike to her hometown, in the rural Northern midlands ofThailand. She let me drive, and I remember her suddenly making me pull over, andthen screaming at me for a while by the side of the highway. I had no idea whatwas wrong. Finally she told me in English:

“You too fast”.

When we set offagain, she whispered in my ear:

“Every girlwant feel safe”.

When we drove intoher hometown, everyone stopped and stared. Groups of children ran alongside themotorbike. They’d never seen a Falang (foreigner) before.

The houses weresmall, wooden, raised above the earth on stilts.

We stayed there with her Grandmother and son. Grandma had no teeth, and just smiled atme all the time, non-stop. She raised Miaow’s boy. His Father had been anabusive alcoholic, and Miaow had left him years ago. The little boy had a few teeth more than his Grandmother and that’s all I rememberabout him.

While we werethere it was my birthday. There was a huge celebration and people came withgifts – bottles of whiskey, a watch, and various dishes that they’d prepared.It was a feast. We all sat on the ground around a sheet spread out underneathcountless delicious Thai treats. They laughed and sang. I remember feelingincredibly humble. I was wealthy compared to these people, and yet they gave methese relatively expensive gifts… I was confused by my feelings. Why was I madeso uncomfortable by their generosity? Looking back, I know why:

It wasn’t just theirgifts that made me uncomfortable. It was their generosity of spirit. They gaveme some things, yes. But they gave me all of their attention. They were totally present. I’d never met anyone in my life that wasn’tin two places at once. I certainly didn't know how to be so present - even at my own birthday party.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that meal under aperfectly dark, star-filled night, was the first of my two great lessons inwhat wealth really is. (Read the last paragraph of this post forthe second lesson).

I also rememberthe local policeman. He sat all day outside his shack, whiskey bottle in hand.Miaow told me that’s all he did: drink, and accept bribes.

It was 17 yearsago. I was young; arrogant; naïve; foolish; immature; irresponsible; selfish. Istepped into worlds that were completely alien to me. I trampled through themcarelessly. Thum once told me that he could hear me coming a mile away. Myfootsteps were heavy. He said that the Thais have a saying:

“Tread softly,and with joy”

I’ve thought aboutthat saying many times over the years.

When the time camefor me to leave Thailand, Miaow drove me to the bus stop. I would be getting abus and then a flight home halfway around the world. She would be going straight back towork.

It was a strangemoment, saying goodbye. We’d perhaps both used each other, and there was atotal lack of sentimentality on her part. We kissed briefly and awkwardly, and I told her I’dwrite. She didn’t look impressed. I felt guilty.

I did write, once.She wrote back. Her written English was so bad that I could barely understandanything. I felt very, very sad getting that letter.

She told me that her realname wasn’t Miaow. It was Surya.

I hadn’t evensuspected.

I’ve thought manytimes over the years of trying to track her down, but what would I do? I liketo think that she probably achieved what she hoped to achieve: met a kind older man whowhisked her and her boy away and gave them a life of material security. She wassmart enough to achieve that. She deserves at least as much.

Wherever she is, Ihope she’s happy and feels safe.

Please leave me a comment. Comments are the currency of blogs, and your comments help promote my writing. I always appreciate a comment, even one that just says "Thank you".
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3 impossible true stories (and 1 way to feel more like God).

2011-09-14T11:42:00.001+02:00

Thinks he's an otter...

There have been times when I’ve felt so bad I’vewanted the Earth to swallow me up. Times when, if I’d had one wish,I would not have wishedfor more money or time or power; I’d have wished to disappear in a puff ofsmoke.

And there was a time when I very, very nearly killedmyself.

We’re all human, which is to say, we all have thecapacity to experience tremendous pain. I’m talking about emotional pain here,but the same goes for physical…

Ithink it was Primo Levi who said something like:

“A human is an animal that can adapt to anycircumstances”.

I once watched a documentary called “The Boy WhoseSkin Fell Off”. It was about a boy with a rare disease – his skin fell off hisbody every few days. His skin kept falling off all the time. His parents had tobandage him up, and he lived with that pain day in, day out, his whole life. Inthe end, he died of skin cancer.

I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much, or been somoved, as I did and was by that movie. That boy’s courage anddignity will remain with me, always. You can watch it here. You will be movedand shaken and inspired.

I wrote recently about feeling like an Ant.And about feeling like God.

To me, the difference between the two is just allabout where we place our attention (and where we place our attention is thegreatest sign of our intelligence)...

So I want to share with you a great way to shift yourattention from the mundane, painful, ant-like aspects of life, towards God:

It’s called synchronicity.

Some people call it co-incidence, but I like to saythat there is no such thing as co-incidence. Others call it luck, and I like tosay that we make our own luck, and one of the ways in which I’ve made mine (andI’m one of the luckiest people in the history of luck) is by doing what I’mabout to tell you about.

Actually, a better word than synchronicity is perhaps‘miracle’. Because although mathematicians would be able to work out the oddsof some of the things I’m about to tell you about happening; and although they mightsay that there is a billion to one chance; I’d say that it’s simply impossible.So it’s a miracle.

For example:

In 1999 I was reading a book about synchronicity.

I was living in a shabby little room in a big shabbyhouse in Stoke Newington, London. For those of you that don’t know London,that’s very close to where the recent riots all kicked off.

The room I was in had one thing going for it – itoverlooked a small park (I think it was called Stoke Newington Green).

And one morning, as I was making myself breakfast, Iwas thinking about the head-on car crash I’d had when I was 18 yrs old, whenI’d only seconds earlier put on my seat belt (in itself, a kind ofsynchronicity). I never used to wear my seat belt, but that day, and I don’tknow why, I did. It might have saved my life. It certainly prevented anyinjury, and the other guy wasn’t so lucky…

Anyway, I’m standing there making my breakfast andremembering that car crash, when suddenly I hear an almighty KRUNSCH. I lookout the window, and across the other side of the park, two cars have justcollided. This blew my mind. But it’s not the punchline.

The very next day, standing there making myselfbreakfast again, thinking about the previous days synchronicity… KRUNSCH. Ilook out the window, and in exactly the same spot, two cars have collided.

Impossible.

When I was working as an actor I had no work. I was aterrible actor. So one day I had to go out and get myself a job, and afterwalking around London literally all day without success, I told myself: “Onemore”.

I walked into one more bar and asked if they needed abarman. The girl behind the bar (full of piercings and tats, with a shavedhead, and a ton of attitude) said ‘no’, at the same time as a guy appeared fromthe stockroom. As I turned to leave, thoroughly dejected, he called out:

“Wait a minute, we might be looking for someone”.

So I sat down for a coffee with him and had aninterview.

While we were talking I noticed a photo of two nakedmen walking down the beach away from camera, hand in hand. Then I noticed thatmy interviewer had a handlebar moustache and a leather waistcoat. Then Inoticed the girl behind the bar again, and all the other very obvious signsthat I was in a gay bar.

The owner – the guy interviewing me – was calledRobin. He owned the place with two other guys, Gordon (his boyfriend) and Guy(his best friend).

On the wall, above the photo, was a metal sign:

The Back Bar.

As I clocked the photo on the wall, Robin asked me:

“Is it a problem for you, working in a gay bar?”

I thought about it for a moment. I couldn’t find anyreason why it should be a problem.

“No”, I said.

And so I worked there for a year. It was a great year.I loved almost every minute of it. And a tip for any single young straight menout there: working in a gay bar is a great way to meet girls. Trust me.

A few years later, and a few weeks after the doublecar crash synchronicity, I was in a rehearsal studio with my band (I was thedrummer). As we left the studio, we were all talking about what a terribledrummer I was. I was worse at drumming than I was at acting. I’d been thinkingfor a while about drum lessons, and just as I was thinking about it again, wewalked past the door of one of the other studios… and heard the most amazingdrum solo. There was someone in there playing the drums like I’d never heardthe drums played before. We all stopped. I had to go in there. It couldn’t be aco-incidence.

So I went in there. I slowly opened the door and sawthis young guy playing the kit as if it was a part of him. He was amazing. Butthe most amazing part of it all, and the reason I stood there with my mouthwide open for a while even after he stopped playing – on the wall, above hishead, was a metal sign:

The Back Bar.

Impossible.

When I moved to Slovenia, my (now) wife and I talked alot about getting a dog. We had both always had dogs around us, but right thenwe were a little afraid of the doggy responsibility. Now we have a dog, twocats, and a baby, and I’m still afraid of responsibility …

So we were thinking of getting a dog for 2 years, andit went like this:

“Let’s get a dog?”

“Yay!”

“Hang on, what about the responsibility…”

“You’re right, forget it.”

One day we were out walking in the hills and the sameconversation came up. And this time my wife said:

“Let’s ask the universe what we should do”.

I’d never heard of this ‘ask the universe’ concept(sounded a little too ‘New Age’ for me to be honest), but we did it. We putthis question out there to the universe, and simply waited for the answer.

We didn’t have to wait long…

After the walk, we were heading into town. We got intothe car, and my wife was fiddling with the radio. Our usual radio stationwasn’t available, and she was trying to find another channel.

Suddenly (on Slovene radio) an English voice said:

“And now, from 1966, ‘I Love My Dog’ by CatStevens”.

It’s a cool song (“all the pay I need comes shiningthrough his eyes”).

“That’s it, that’s the sign, we’re getting a dog!”

In town we saw a poster. A woman’s dog had hadpuppies. When we got there, only one puppy was left. His name:

Ben.

Impossible.

We renamed that puppy Jai.

Jai on dry land

I could go on and on giving examples ofsynchronicities, or miracles, that have happened to me. On and on and on.Because the more open you are to them, the more you see them. They happen allthe time. Life is a long succession of miracles. You are a miracle.

So here’s what to do: be open to miracles. Keep an eyeout for synchronicities. Because when things like this happen, you stop feelinglike a helpless little ant, and you realize that you are part of a much biggerpicture. You stop and say ‘wow’.

Just WOW.

That’s impossible.

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When you find an animal dying slowly and painfully, what do you do?

2011-09-11T09:11:00.005+02:00

I killed a puppy with my bare hands.
The single toughest thing I've ever done - physically and emotionally. I don't think that I regret it, but at the same time, I'm not sure I did the right thing (is there ever a right thing to do?). Nor am I sure quite what I learnt from the experience.

I think the truth is: I'm still learning from it...

When I was 9 or 10 years old we went on holiday. I don’t remember how old I was exactly, but I can’t have been more than 10, because my brother wasn’t born yet.

While we were out walking one day our dog, Rocky, caught a rabbit. He held it in his jaws, shook it from side to side, and then dropped it. It fell like a rag doll, and Rocky went on his way again: job done.

My parents also started off again, but I couldn’t leave the rabbit like that: its neck was broken, but it was alive. It was still breathing (very fast) and was clearly conscious.

So I took a large rock, and killed it, as fast as I could.

I remember my parents being very impressed. But the truth is, I just couldn’t leave it like that. I didn’t feel I had a choice.

Fastforward almost 20 years.

I’m on a very quiet beach in Goa. It's 0ne month after my yoga teachers training course (when I learnt to live), and I've been practicing intensely as well as teaching a private student in the local resort.

Today though I don't feel well. The illness that plagued me the previous month is recurring slightly - I'm weak and feverish.

As I pass a shop I hear a faint but terrible sound. A mewling / squeeling / high-pitched wailing sound.

It’s not the kind of sound you can ignore, so I investigate. Round the side of the shop, at the edge of a pile of garbage, is a tiny black puppy.

His fur is crawling with insects. His eyes are full of puss and parasites.

He’s barely alive. But he is alive.

What would you do?

I went into the shop and asked the people in there about it: does the dog belong to them? It was a stupid question really. Stray dogs in India are a dime a dozen, and people there have more important things to worry about – like feeding their children. The shop owner barely even acknowledged me. She didn’t want to know…

So I went and bought some milk. I tried to feed the little dog some milk, and then I killed it.

First, I tried to strangle it. But it didn’t work. I just caused that little dog plenty more suffering for a while. His squeeling became almost unbearable. I was shaking and sweating.

Then I found a tile, and I broke it’s neck. It wasn’t easy – I had no idea how hard it can be to extinguish a life. But eventually I did it.

That’s what I did. I’ll never forget that little dog.

The next day I came across a small, weather-stained poster pinned to a tree. A tree I'd been walking past, every day, for a month.

It was an advertisement for an animal rescue center.

What would you have done? Did I do the right thing? Please leave a comment, and spread the love by sharing this with your friends / social media (using the green ShareThis button below)

Why I left Bangkok... Part 2 – Blue Sapphires and Red Bull.

2011-09-09T14:50:00.003+02:00

Princess Di and a Blue Sapphire. She didn't buy it in Thailand...

I’m sure Bangkok is a beautiful city. I’m sure there are lovely people there, and great things to do and see. I just didn’t do or see or meet any of them. (Click here for part one).

Instead I got on a train and headed North.

I stopped off in a town called Sukhothai. There’s a vast, ancient temple there.

I made friends with a young guy called Thum who worked in the place where I was staying. He was like a stallion. A lot of young Western girls passed through Sukhothai, and he felt obliged to sleep with all of them. He apparently had a strong sense of duty.

I hired a motorbike while I was there, and I’d drive around exploring temples and feeling free (I was 21 years old).

I noticed that all the trucks and lorries seemed to be in a hell of a hurry.

They would hurtle past me on my bike, missing my handlebars by – I swear – millimeters, the back of the truck shaking from side to side and huge clouds of dust kicking up in my face. I nearly died like this several times. Had I veered slightly to the right a moment before they passed I would have been finished...

When I mentioned this to Thum, he disappeared for a while and came back with a little brown medicinal-looking bottle. So I tasted ‘Red Bull’ for the first time (the taste was the same, but as for the ingredients, I don’t know…) back in 1994. Thum told me that it had amphetamines in it, and that the truck drivers all drank it to be able to drive longer and so make more money. I believed him. It gave an incredible energy kick.

(Year later, when I was a youth worker, I had a kid called Aaron in one of my programs. One night he had to be hospitalized after drinking 6 Red Bulls. He'd had a heart attack. He was 16 years old.)

There were two workmen hammering away on the roof of a small hut. I noticed that they’d hammer slowly and rhythmically for about 10 minutes, and then they’d climb down (slowly and rhythmically) and disappear inside for about 10 more minutes (before reappearing and staring their slow rhythm all over again). I mentioned my observation to Thum. He grinned his great big beautiful Thai smile, and led me into the hut they were working on. There was a man-size bong the in the middle of the room, and Thum sparked it up for me. He told me to take a hit. I took one hit, and then I went to my room and lay down.

I began to hear the most beautiful symphonic dance music. It was the coolest tune I’d ever heard, incredibly complex and uplifting. It was drum’n bass, several years before drum ‘n bass had even been invented. I wondered where the music was coming from, and got up a few times to try and find it. But every time I stood up, the music stopped. So I lay down and finally accepted that it was in my head. At first I was a little concerned. Then I relaxed and allowed the music to take me. Before falling asleep I wondered whether this new ability would last… it didn’t. I’ve not spontaneously composed symphonic drum ‘n bass since, and it’s probably a Good Thing.

There was a cool girl from Canada called Tina staying there (longer than she’d planned, until she met Thum), and she introduced me to PJ Harvey. Tina and I also went on a motorbike ride to a nature reserve. We hired a bike and I drove all the way there with her hanging on to my back. It was incredibly hot and dusty, and by the time we got there we didn’t have much time to swim in the waterfall. I swam and she watched (as I remember), and after I came out she took a photo of me and said it would be good for my portfolio (I was an aspiring actor).

On the way back it was getting dark, and the air was full of insects. Every few seconds I’d get shot in the face by a flying beetle, and it seriously hurt. Tina hid behind my shoulders and was more or less ok. It felt like an epic journey. I was the hero; no one but Tina could ever understand...

The next day I decided to head off to Chiang Mai.

Tina and Thum took me to the bus station and we said our goodbyes. I was feeling ill. By the time I got to Chiang Mai I had a fever. I felt very, very, sick. I found a place to stay in the suburbs that was a vast walled garden with bungalows. I stayed in one of the bungalows. It had a shower / toilet room, and I spent two days squatting in there with my two friends Projectile Vomit and Violent Diarrhea. When they’d had their fun with me, they threw me on the bed, and I lay there for another couple of days hallucinating feverishly. I was so weak I could barely move, and I remember thinking that if I died, no one would find me for a week.

When I got some strength back I hired a bike and drove into town.

I visited a temple. It was a cloudy day, and there was only one other person there – an old Thai man. When it started to rain I went into a doorway for shelter, and he joined me. It all seemed so natural.

We chatted, and he told me that he was a teacher. He had two hobbies: exploring the beautiful temples of South East Asia, and collecting stones. I didn’t know what kind of stones he meant exactly, but I wasn’t that interested either.

When the rain stopped, we started off on our separate ways. He turned to me and said:

“Would you like to join me for lunch? I will eat traditional Thai food and see some beautiful traditional Thai dancing…”

I clearly hadn’t learnt my lesson from the first similar-sounding invitation, so I said ‘yes’.

I followed his car, and after a while he pulled over and told me that he had a ‘chore’ to do on the way – he was buying some ‘stones’, and he had to go to the ‘warehouse’. Would I mind waiting for him a few minutes?

We pulled up outside what looked like a very expensive jewelry store on the outskirts of town.. The window was full of beautiful golden necklaces set with glittering precious stones, and the door was guarded by what looked like a Thai policeman. Still no alarm bells in my naïve young mind…

My new Thai friend disappeared inside the ‘store’ and reappeared a moment later with a tall, beautiful Thai woman in a short-skirted suit. I was stood there straddling my motor-bike feeling young and free and lucky.

He asked me if I would like a tour of the shop and warehouse (where apparently they ‘cut the stones’) while I waited for him. The tour would be with the ‘manageress’ – the beautiful Thai woman.

She looked a lot like this (but with a suit on):

How could I say no?

So I had a tour, and the two of us ended up in the ‘office’. She sat on the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. She had long legs, and her shirt was unbuttoned enough to show some cleavage, and I was 21 years old. My usual shyness around women (especially women I was very attracted to) somehow disappeared and I found myself flirting with her. She told me a long story about how Thailand is famous for it’s Sapphires. She also casually mentioned that the same Sapphires are worth 5 times as much in the West.

I started doing the math. But I wasn’t very good at it so I asked for a calculator…

Up until this point, there had been no indication that this whole situation was nothing other than a very fortunate co-incidence. I just happened to be looking around the same temple as a stone collector, who just happened to stand under the same doorway as me when it just happened to start raining. One thing led to another and now I just happened to be in the office of a famous Thai jewelry store falling in love with the most beautiful woman in the world, figuring out how I was going to become the wealthiest 21 year old in history.

It was my lucky day!

Then came the first ‘alarm bells’. The ‘Manageress’ asked me (ever so slightly impatiently) if I was going to buy some stones. Up until then, nothing had worried me about this situation.

I told her I’d think about it if she would let me take her out that evening.

Then came the second alarm bell. Her mouth said “yes” but her eyes looked very “no”.

However, despite these two clear warnings, the voice of my intuition was being drowned out by the much stronger voice of my simple, willful greed. If I were a cartoon character I would have had dollar signs flashing in my eyes.

So I asked my future wife her name and she told me

“Wâyt-sà-ya”, and we arranged a time later that evening when I would meet her at the store for our ‘date’, and I jumped on my bike and sped off to call my Mum and tell her the good news!

My Ma was not quick to share in my excitement. She suggested that I wait until I speak with my Father before doing anything foolish.

I decided to do some research. I visited another Jewelry store in the middle of town. It was in an old wooden building, and when I stepped inside a little bell rang. An old man came out of the back office. The moment I mentioned the name of the other Jewelry place (to this day I remember the name: ‘Doi Inthanon’) the old man froze. Then he looked out of the window, locked the door, and pulled me into the back office. His wife was there, and he quickly spoke to her in Thai. She gave me a harsh look:

“You no go Doi Inthanon. Doi Inthanon bad people”.

That was the message. I don’t remember the details of what she said, but I do remember very clearly that when I suggested that I go to the police, she said:

“Doi Inthanon police same same”.

That evening I turned up for my ‘date’. The ‘policeman’ was no longer there, but there was a young Thai guy, about the same age I was, looking fairly ‘bling’. When I arrived he hurried inside. Before I could follow him, he came back out.

“Wâyt-sà-ya is getting ready, I take you for drink”.

A moment later we were in a bar, and I bought us two beers. Mr Bling sat opposite me, and resolutely refused to look me in the eye. His eyes darted and shifted over my shoulder and towards the doorway every few seconds, and he was shaking. He was sweating.

I told him I was going to the toilet, and I left the bar. I got on my bike and got the hell out of there. I was shaking a little myself. I drove back to my walled garden bungalow, and was looking over my shoulder the whole way back.

Later, I found out that Wâyt-sà-ya means 'whore' in Thai...

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Why we are all nothing more than ants (and no less than Gods)

2011-09-06T11:13:00.004+02:00

I don’t know how old I was exactly (somewhere between 8 and 11) when my Father took me for a walk one evening. The magic of being up late in the balmy summer twilight, and that oh-so-precious time with my Dad meant that something special had to happen.

And it did.

As we walked along the street we chatted, and it was just another day. Just another moment sliding by.

Then we stopped and my Father looked up at the sky, my hand in his. I looked up too and he began to tell me, with a ‘time is not sliding by now’ tone of voice, just how big the universe is.

He explained how many planets there are in our Solar system, and how many Galaxies there are, and the distance from here to the moon, and so on. I don’t remember the details, but I do remember that as he outlined the vastness of the universe, I began to realize just how tiny and insignificant I am. By the time he finished, I felt like an ant.

But I also felt like God...

Time had stopped sliding. In fact, it had just stopped. It had expanded in every direction, and stopped. It was infinite. The Universe (space) and that moment (time) had become one. Time and space stretched away from me in every direction, and I just stood there, feeling like God.

I can’t describe that moment any better. It was a revelation. That’s all. It might have been the best thing my Father ever did for me.

***

20 years later I was an addict. Yeah, some of you don’t know this, but I spent 2 years of my life in a room in Swiss Cottage, London, eating nothing but baked beans and take-away Balti.
Those 2 years almost killed me...
I’m not kidding. I’m not exaggerating. I nearly destroyed myself there. I did lose friends, money, time, and health. But I’m still here. I didn’t lose my life.

You’re probably wondering what I was addicted to...

It’s embarrassing. If you’re a recovering heroin addict, or a recovering alcoholic, or a recovering pretty-much-anything-else-you-can-think-of, at least there’s a certain enigma to it.

I’m a recovering video game addict. Not so 'cool' huh?

Oh well, at least I’m alive.

Anyway, I lived on beans and balti for a while, and spent 20 hours a day trying to save the world from Nazi aggression.

The game I played was a WW2 strategy game called Sudden Strike 2. An amazing game, very complex, requiring a lot of skill and team-play. I got so good at it that the team of players I got together won the European championships… which were really the world championships, because they were the only championships that existed. So players from all over the world took part.

When I first started playing, I met a German guy called Warhead (he wasn’t really called Warhead, that was just his nickname). He destroyed me in a 1v1 game, and taught me a good lesson. He also told me that all the German players were the best, but really arrogant, and how he’d like to get a great team together to beat the arrogant Germans at the championships the next year. I told him to teach me all he knew, and that together we’d do it.

And that’s what happened. We won the next year. But it almost cost me my life.

I’ve got lots more to write about this: about addiction, and healing, and how being an addict is like living inside a prison inside yourself, and how healing is just all about breaking free of that prison.

I want to say that every one of you reading this is an addict too, but most of you don’t even know it. The ones you hear about – like me, yes – who are addict addicts, are just the ones who are most sensitive and open. They don’t know how to adapt to a world that seems too big for them, and they don’t know how to handle the pain of it all, and they need something to ease that pain; to make them feel safe. So they become addicted, in a way that is very obvious and painful to those around them.

When I was 24 I had a beautiful girlfriend called Adele. She was a dancer. She found me one evening in the Back Bar – a gay bar I was working in by mistake (long story for another time) – and insisted that we go home together. It was a beautiful, bitter-sweet relationship that taught me a lot.

Adele’s Father was an alcoholic. He was really seriously in trouble when I met him. He kept trying to kill himself. Once I spent Christmas with Adele and her family and her Dad threw himself off a bridge. (Into a river. In Scotland. In December). He simply couldn’t handle any more moments sliding by. He survived, and we spent a lot of time that Christmas in the hospital. I talked to him a lot. He was a sweet, funny guy, who just didn’t understand the hypocrisy and corruption and deceit of this world. He didn’t know how to play the game of life, so he gave up and played the game of alcoholism instead.

It was a very sad Christmas.

The biggest lesson I learnt from meeting Adele’s Dad was: you can’t make people change. And it’s one of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learnt.

Sometimes people contact me to ask if I can help their loved ones. And I often have to say:

“No”.

I don’t help people who aren’t ready to help themselves. It’s a waste of my time and theirs. You can’t make people change.

It’s a bit of a cliché, but very true about addiction: you usually have to hit rock bottom before you’re ready to start climbing back up.

When I became an addict, it was because I’d completely forgotten about the part of me that wasn’t ant. I felt I was 100% ant. Feeling so small and insignificant; powerless to change anything about each moment that simply slides on by, regardless. Lost in time and space, with no purpose other than pain.

Now, after healing all the hurt that caused me to forget my God-ness, my Beingness, I am whole again. Now I feel half-ant, half-god again. And it’s so good to be alive. It’s good to be a vital part of a vast universe, and to know that the sheer magic and wonder of life is the means and end of itself.

It’s Good.

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Offended by the word Cunt? (This one’s for you)

2011-08-27T09:46:00.006+02:00

Mark was my best friend.

We grew up together. I knew him since I was 4 years old.

We used to sleep over at each other’s houses, sliding down the staircases in sleeping bags, keeping each other’s parents awake at night.

I never felt comfortable in his house though. Everything was too clean and tidy – not a thing out of place.

And he wasn’t allowed to say ‘God’. He got round this by saying Gaw’ instead (like Gawd – ‘Queen’s English’ pronunciation, but without the D). I remember the first time I heard him say it. I laughed out loud.

His mother (who I must say is a lovely lady, and still friends with my mother) didn’t let him say God, but Gaw’ was ok. Even though we all knew that the meaning was the same.

I was always afraid of his Mother as a child. She reminded me of Nurse Ratched.

The thing that bothered me the most about this vocabulary restriction that my friend was under – it sounded so contrived. As if, at the moment when he wanted to exclaim “Oh my God, the house is on fire!” or “Good God, I’ve never seen such a large carrot”, or “God Almighty is that really the time?”, he had to check his surprise / indignation / relief, and redirect his feeling into another direction. It was the censorship of expression that I found hard to swallow...

Once, when I was sleeping over at Mark’s house I woke up having shat in the bed (I promise you, it never happened before or since). After I got over my fear of waking up Nurse Ratched and telling her the bad news, I stood in the hall and chuckled to myself as she changed the sheets. Somehow, it felt like divine retribution.

And I don’t imagine that she was saying to herself: “Oh my Gaw’, what a mess”...

In 1939 when Gone With the Wind was released, the famous line: “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” almost didn’t make it past censorship. In those days, the words ‘hell’ and ‘damn’ were taboo. Hard to imagine that now isn’t it?

Nowadays there is really only one word left that universally causes us to pause and consider “can I really say that?”

Cunt.

A cunt is a vagina. We all know that, right? But a cunt is also a person so despicable that no other word/s will suffice to describe. In my recent article Why I Had To Leave Bangkok After Just One Night - The Girl With The Black Eyes I used the word ‘cunt’ to describe the various men who tried to ‘sell’ me an 11 year old child for the night. I personally would have preferred a nastier word, but I can’t think of one. (If you can, please let me know).

Several people commented that the story would have been better without the use of the word ‘cunt’.

Really, this is my reply to those people.

A word is primarily a sound. And it can of course have a meaning attached, but meaning is subjective. So one person who hears it will react in a different way to another…

And of course, the single syllable that is 'Cunt' can mean beautiful genitalia (your vaginas are all beautiful, girls, please realize that) or a despicable man. In the same way that a dick can be a phallus, or a fool!

So in a way, the two people who react differently to the same word are really only separated by their cultural exposure to the word itself (the more someone has heard it, the less they will react).

For example: Gone with the Wind did wonders, I'm sure, for the cultural acceptance of the word damn.

This article is doing wonders (I hope) for the word cunt (although perhaps not for my reputation. Oh well).

The meaning doesn’t change. Just the level of cultural acceptance.

So, when I am speaking or writing something, I won’t dampen my expression, my voice, to suit the audience. I just won’t do it. What would be the point - to protect delicate sensibilities? If so, should I worry about every word – god, damn, cunt...?! Where do I draw the line?

Rather, I challenge those of you who find this use of language offensive to question what part of you it is that is offended, and why?

…

If you remain offended after said questioning, then I apologize for causing pain. It certainly was not my intention. I promise you that I don’t often use the C word. (I save it for special occasions)…

Mark and I drifted apart. We were too different.

Last time I saw him was Christmas a few years ago. He came over with his fiancée, who I’d never met before. During dinner I went upstairs to find an old photo of the two of us at University. I wanted to show his wife-to-be how hilarious the two of us looked, both wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, with long hair and glowing red eyes. He intercepted me on my way back into the dining room, and insisted that I shouldn’t show her that photo.

Later, I figured out why. He had a joint in his hand, and he didn’t want her seeing that he’d ever smoked.

A couple of years later he and his (then wife) had a baby. I found out about it a week later from my Mum. That was when I realized that our friendship was dead and buried.

Censorship is not a Good Thing.

Why I had to leave Bangkok after just one night. Part 1 - The Girl with Black Eyes.

2011-08-26T12:34:00.003+02:00

I cried a little writing this. Sometimes, I am ashamed to be a man…

I was 21 years old and I went to Thailand. A guy I knew who was very cool had been there, so I thought that perhaps if I went to Thailand, I’d be cool too. As far as I can remember that was my motivation… and I guess I wanted to grow up a little.

Well, I grew up a little.

It’s funny. Before I left, my Mum begged me to promise to call her every day. I thought she was insane and I assured her in no uncertain terms that I would not be giving her daily progress reports. As it turned out though, she had good reason to worry!

I’d planned to stay 3 nights in Bangkok, and then get on a train and go North. It didn’t work out that way…

When I arrived, I headed for the area where all the tourists usually stay. I forget the name (Khao San road?), but it’s very well know. And actually, the place I ended up staying is the place where Leonardo DiCaprio’s character stays in the movie The Beach. I was there first, but only for one night.

I was 21 years old and alone in a very strange land. I went down the steps into the sitting area below and ordered a beer. I remember feeling like a fish out of water. I don’t know what I was thinking, going to Thailand. I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin, let alone South East Asia. But there I was…

And there were a couple of old Thai Dudes playing chess, and I sat near them and plucked up the courage to watch. In the end, I had a game with one of them (my Dad taught me to play chess when I was about 5 years old, and by the time I was 15 I was beating him consistently. He was a very, very sore loser, and wouldn’t speak to me after we played. He’d just go to bed sulking. I never let him win though, even though my Mum asked me to when he was sick. I couldn’t do that to him. I loved him too much).

Anyway, here’s what happened in Bangkok:

I played a little chess with this old Thai Dude and he was a bit of a charmer. After our game, he invited me out for some “traditional Thai food and music”. I was really happy – I wanted to get to know the real Thailand, not just the Khao San road (or whatever it’s called). So off we went… and ended up in this fairly tacky looking restaurant. The manager was floating around us, wringing his hands and doing his best “I’m servile and I’ll do anything for a tip” act. The band played synthesized Western rock songs. It was awful. And the only other thing I remember from the evening was the girl with black eyes...

The Thai dude called over the manager and whispered in his ear, and the manager scuttled off somewhere and came back a few minutes later with a young Thai girl. I’d say she was 11 years old. I’m usually very good at guessing people’s ages. I usually get it spot on.

I’d say she was 11. But she had black eyes. I don’t mean the color – although, I think that the color of her eyes was black too. What I mean is that there was no light – no light, whatsoever – in her eyes. There was only darkness.

Can you imagine? Have you ever seen a child with no light in their eyes? It’s unimaginable. Her eyes weren’t eyes. They were black holes.

She stood in front of me, and looked through me. I could feel her discomfort, her total unease… no, her hate.

The Thai Dude told me that for a few dollars I could do whatever I wanted with her, and for a few dollars more I could have her for the night.

The charm, and the chit-chat, and the chess game, and the pretense, all fell away. I felt sick to my stomach.

I leaned forward to try to talk to this girl; to reassure her that I didn’t want anything from her. But she recoiled. She didn’t speak a word of English, and she trusted me as much as all the other men she’d ever known.

I wanted to rescue her. I wanted to pull out my Uzi and kill every motherfucker in there – the band, The Dude, the manager, and any other cunt who had any part in all of this. I wanted to throw this girl over my shoulder and get her the fuck out of there.

I didn’t have an Uzi, but I swear to God I would have killed those people with my bare hands there and then if there had been a chance of helping her. If she had seen me for who I was, and let me help her, I would have. But there was nothing I could do.

The feeling I had was like when you are in a restaurant, and you see a lobster being taken out of the tank and dropped into boiling water. This girl with black eyes was like an 11-year-old girl in boiling water, and I was powerless to help her.

In the end all I could do was stand up and walk out of there. I walked out into the night, no clue where I was, and somehow found my way back to the hotel. The next day I left Bangkok. I couldn’t stand to stay there any longer.

I’ll never forget that girl, and how she looked right through me.

My wife told me to edit this (too graphic). I didn’t – read at your own discretion.

2011-08-15T13:11:00.004+02:00

I had a miserable childhood.

Don’t get me wrong: I was blessed with great parents who gave me very strong foundations. But beyond that, I got a fairly tough deal.

Each and every school I went to sucked. Sucked with a capital S.

Strange really because they were all private schools; or as we say in England (in a typically counter-intuitive, oxymoronic kind of a way), public schools. The schools that parents have to pay a lot of money to send their kids to.

So I supposedly had one of the best educations that money can buy! Sure didn’t feel like it though… and I suspect that education is not something that can, or should be, bought…

***

When I was six, we lived in Israel for a year. I didn’t speak a word of Hebrew when we first got there, and I didn’t know a soul, but the ‘teacher’ made me stand facing into the corner at the front of the classroom, all the Israeli kids behind me sniggering at the pale, dumb kid who even the teacher didn’t like.

My mother had to pick me up from hospital one day – I’d had my head cracked open by a rock-wielding Israelite. I must admit, I may have thrown the first stone. But his was a lot bigger…

At the end of that year we moved back to England, and my ‘education’ began in earnest…

***

My first school back home: the ‘headmistress’ force-fed me (fairly violently) a particularly disgusting school dinner. I was about 8 years old I guess. To this day I would rather chew my own legs off than eat rice pudding.

Her husband, the ‘headmaster’, on a separate occasion punished me by taking me into his office - he closed the door, made me take my pants down, and bent me over his desk. He then beat me with a stick across my buttocks, gently. I suspect that he was playing with himself at the same time.

At that school, I had not a single nice teacher. Not one. There were only grey, lifeless, totally uninspired, empty-shell ghost-shadow excuses for human beings pretending to teach us. They didn’t teach. They stood at the front of the room and pointed their fingers, looking bored. The only thing to learn from them was that life is mindless, repetitive, and without joy.

When we, the children, mirrored their boredom, we were punished, usually by being given pages of ‘lines’ to write out as extra homework. Usually from the bible.

I would do my lines in bed with a flashlight so that I didn’t have to tell my parents that I’d been ‘bad’. One time my Father came in and caught me with a bible in bed (I’d managed to hide the paper and pen when I heard him coming). The memory of his face now makes me laugh. He obviously thought that his 9-year-old son was doing late night bible studies, and probably had visions of me becoming a priest!

He said something like:

“Ah, you’re reading the bible, eh? Yes, it’s an, er… interesting book isn’t it?”

Let me tell you – to a 9-year-old boy, the bible is anything but interesting. But I nodded and waited for him to leave so that I could finish my lines.

***

One day, when I was about 11, my mother told me she was taking me out of the school a year early. She’d enrolled me in a new school. I remember her saying to me somewhat apologetically:

“You haven’t been happy here have you?”

So I went to a new school for a year. It was much better. We had to travel a bit further each day to get there, but there were some nice teachers. Also, again, some very lifeless ones, but it was better. One of the nice teachers turned out to be a bit too nice though. He was the drama teacher, and he gave me the lead role in the school play: Hiawatha. He also invited me to his on-campus apartment where he played hardcore porn on his VHS and encouraged me to masturbate. He then sat in a chair slightly behind me, and masturbated himself...

I was afraid of him; fascinated by the beautiful naked women and the sex that he introduced me to; and deeply uncomfortable with the various situations that I kept finding myself in with him. But I didn’t tell anyone. Abused children rarely do…

He ingratiated himself with my parents by nursing my budding acting abilities (for which my Ma was grateful), and before I knew it he’d become a ‘family friend’. He’d come for barbecues and evening meals and I’d sit there inwardly squirming.

***

When I was 13 I went to high school, and for some strange reason I asked my parents if I could board there. I remember having fantasies of pillow fights and midnight snacks. I had two brothers 10 years younger than me, and perhaps I just craved the company of my peers. I don’t know. But the fun I had hoped to find wasn’t there. Instead there was an accepted culture of bullying and abuse that dated back to the dark ages – literally. Public schools in England are renowned for it.

The teachers weren’t so bad though, although I can’t say that any of them were great teachers. They still seemed pretty bored.

Except one. Mr Green, an English teacher. I will never, ever forget that man. He was only there for a year, but he changed my life. In many ways, he probably saved it.

At that school every teacher had a nickname. All the nicknames were things like ‘Witch’ (the very creepy chemistry teacher) and ‘Buttocks’ (the geography teacher whose arse was so large that she had to go sideways through doors. No kidding. I went through a phase of having a crush on her so bad that I would sit with an erection through entire geography classes. If ever she asked me to stand up and come to the front of the class I had to will my penis to behave: not easy when you’re 13-years-old).

Mr Green had long sideburns, and his nickname was... ‘Sideburns’. I wondered at the time how he got away with such an innocuous nickname. Now I realize that it was a sign of our affection for him.

How else do teenagers say “I love you”?

To me he was like a pool of glistening water, an oasis in a burning sandy-hot desert. Going to his classes I was excited, inspired, engaged. He gave us books to read that I could understand and believe in, and he read them out loud with us, sharing his passion with us. Every word of his was measured, had meaning, and was offered elegantly, with a smile.

His eyes shone, and he would encourage us when we did well, and berate us when we were fools, but everything was done with love.

One day I found out that he was leaving to go to a better school. I remember vividly how I felt. Betrayed, distraught, abandoned. He was too good for me.

He left, and I was alone with the shadows for the rest of my time there.

One sentence of his haunts me (in a 'friendly ghost' way) to this day. I must have not done something that I should have done (apologized to someone for something?), and he asked me why not – why hadn’t I done it? I couldn’t answer him. And he said:

“Ahh. You’re a moral coward”

I think that I’ve been trying to prove him wrong ever since.

Isn’t that what a great teacher does? Every word and action transmits wisdom, and the world around them becomes a wiser, better place.

Every word of his was a stone dropped carefully into the pond of my young mind, and his concentric circles of compassion and understanding continue to ripple on through my life, even to this day.

If only there were more teachers like that, eh?

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Abuse causes trauma. The trauma of abuse, until healed, causes countless problems later in life. Abuse does not need to be obvious (i.e. sexual abuse). It can also be subtle, (i.e. lack of attention from parents). Most people who suffer abuse tend to find themselves in a cycle of abuse - as was clearly my case. The good news is that it is very, very easy now to heal trauma. And it is no longer necessary to talk about what happened (to relive the experience). If you, or anyone you know, lives with the consequences of abuse or trauma, please contact me, because I can help.

How your personal views are worthless (and why you should probably re-think everything you think you know)

2011-08-12T12:29:00.004+02:00

I once believed that:

If I don’t wear shoes, I’ll hurt my feet.

If I don’t keep warm, I’ll catch a cold.

I only need to practice yoga to stay fit and healthy.

I only need to stay fit and healthy to be happy.

What’s good for me is good for everyone.

When I was at school I had a friend who was, to be honest, an asshole. He once hawked up a big green lump of phlegm out of the depths of his chest and spat it full in my face. Yes, that kind of asshole. But he was nevertheless my friend, and I loved him, and somehow still do (although we’ve long since lost touch).

He once told me this saying, and it’s stuck with me ever since:

The more you study, the more you learn. The more you learn, the more you know. The more you know, the more you forget. The more you forget, the less you know. So why bother?

Of course it’s a bit silly, but when I heard it then it felt very right. Perhaps because at that time the whole adult world seemed to be pitted in a deadly struggle to teach me crap. Parents, teachers, extended family, family friends, and distant relatives were all hell-bent on cramming my head full of algebra, geology, ancient history and chemistry, at a time when all I really wanted to do was climb trees.

Many years later I read the classic book ‘I Am That’, by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, and the following line changed my life:

“Love says ‘I am everything’. Wisdom says ‘I am nothing’. Between the two, my life flows.”

Socrates said:

“All I know is that I know nothing”.

Such simplicity. Such beauty. Such wisdom.

That’s the kind of ancient history I am interested in...

Shoes.

Of course, if you don’t wear shoes, you hurt your feet, right? It’s only logical.

There’s another way. Develop faith, and walk down a jungle-covered Indian mountain barefoot.

I also once got high (long time ago), and ran full speed down a narrow, steep, crooked and uneven footpath, (tree roots, rocks, and all) in the pitch dark. The odds of my making it down in one piece were probably about a billion to one. “But” as it says in the bible, “with faith, anything is possible”. (Mathew 19; 26)

Cold.

That’s why they call it ‘a cold’ isn’t it? If you get cold, you get a cold, right? Right!

Except, if you raise your energy, develop a strong immune system, and have faith, you don’t ever get colds (or, very rarely).

When I believed this one, I used to keep warm. I also used to get a lot of colds, flu’s, and throat problems. Now, I rarely dress ‘sensibly’, and I hardly ever get sick.

Fit and Healthy.

Many times in my life I thought I found The Answer. You know, the answer to all our problems – Life, The Universe, and Everything. But the truth is, there is no answer. The question is the answer, because in the asking of the question we find another question, and it’s in the very asking of questions that we find our purpose (isn’t it?). So every time you think you’ve found that answer, think again. The part of us that likes to believe in answers is our Ego. So what would happen is, my Ego would find The Answer, and then a little while later I’d realize that The Answer didn’t actually answer all the questions after all, and I’d set off in search of The Answer all over again. This is the definition of suffering isn’t it? It’s certainly one definition of insanity.

Nowadays, I very much concur with Carlos Castaneda / Don Juan’s secret to staying fit and healthy:

“The secret to having a healthy body is in what you don’t do”.

Happy.

It’s been told a million times by a million people better than myself, but I’ll say it again: happiness is an inside job.

‘There is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path.’

That said, I’ve found something very interesting in my time thus far on Earth: we are innately happy beings. Given a natural, peaceful biological development (from conception to adulthood), and a supportive and loving upbringing / education, we cannot fail to be happy.

How many of us had those two simple things? Very few. Instead we have almost all of us experienced abuse and trauma, and trauma disconnects us from our happy Self.

So, yes, happiness is inside us already, waiting to come out, and yes, in that sense, Self Help or Personal Development is a waste of time, but you know what? Until you’ve healed the trauma, the happiness is hiding. Like the Sun behind the clouds.

Good.

Another cliché: ‘human beings are like snowflakes’.

Yes, cliché but true. No two of us are the same. Even if you take the most identical identical twins, they are deeply different; each unique. And as different as we all are, we are also all on different paths, and at different stages of the path. So no, there is no ‘one size fits all’ in this life.

One of the things that brought this home to me very clearly was a comment that a reader left after my article The 3 Reasons to be a Vegetarian. Calling himself simply ‘Omnivore’, this person said that despite having had been raised a vegetarian; and despite believing completely in everything that my article espoused; and despite having eaten the perfect ‘textbook’ vegetarian diet; he needed meat, and when he started eating meat, his health and sense of well-being improved greatly. He went from ‘surviving to thriving’. His comment helped me to understand that there is no right way to eat. (I thought I’d been writing The Truth, The Answer). It also helped me to find a better way for me to eat. Changing this belief – a strong viewpoint that I’d taught in seminars – wasn’t easy. But it was liberating.

What this world needs like a hole in the head is more beliefs, views, and opinions.

What this world desperately needs is more people who love themselves and each other and the world around them, regardless of views, beliefs, and opinions.

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The reason why most alternative healing doesn’t work: Secondary Gain

2011-08-12T11:51:00.004+02:00

Secondary Gain is a medical term. If you ask a doctor what it means, they’ll know. If you ask a Reiki practitioner, they probably won’t. That’s because it’s a concept that the world of alternative healing has generally not woken up to yet. I believe it’s also one of the main reasons why: most alternative healing doesn’t work; and most personal development methods are inefficient. *

What is secondary gain exactly?

Secondary gain** may be defined as ‘a hidden benefit that is derived from the problem’.

The best example I can give is the one Simon Rose (founder of Reference Point Therapy) gave me when he taught me RPT. It is a true story.

There was an old lady who had cancer. Despite the fact that she had expert care her condition did not improve – against all expectation. When asked the simple (and seemingly ridiculous) question:

“What would you lose if the cancer was healed” she finally replied:

“I would be lonely again”.

Before the diagnosis of cancer, she had been very lonely. When they found out that she was ill, her grandchildren began to visit her daily. Faced with the simple choice between cancer and loneliness, she (subconsciously) chose cancer.

The hidden benefit to her problem – the secondary gain – was quite simply that the quality of her life was improved by her cancer. She was no longer lonely.

Other examples include:

“If my bad back was fixed, I’d have to go to work”…

and:

“If my headaches stopped, I’d have to start having sex with my husband again” (another real-life example!)

Why is this an important issue?

Let’s face it – we all have problems from time to time. Whether physical, emotional, or psychological, challenges are (a big) part of life.

It is many people’s experience that the initial hope and euphoria – so often experienced immediately after a healing session (or therapy, or personal development) - fades, and the symptoms return.

The most common reason for this is secondary gain.

You may well find the root cause of your problem. You may well effectively heal it. But if the secondary gain is not released you will probably not see any long term change in the symptoms – because subconsciously you are choosing to hold onto them.

Honestly, I have lost count of the number of clients (and even personal problems) whose healing has ultimately come down to secondary gain. Very often you need only heal the secondary gain of a problem in order to watch it just fall away - secondary gain is all that’s holding it in place.

I’ll leave you with another example. I’m working with a client at the moment who has advanced liver cancer. She’s 31 years old, has a 3 year old child, and the doctors have told her that there’s nothing they can do. Personally, I believe that there is almost always something we can do; if we know the cause of something, we can undo it.

When I began to explore the concept of secondary gain with her, she knew exactly what I meant: she had a list of things that were benefits of the cancer:

She makes friends more easily now that she’s sick; has a great excuse as to why her career is at a standstill; and she gets her husband’s undivided attention without having to ask for it.

In this case I worked on the trauma of these secondary gains: making friends (she’s an introvert), having a career at standstill (she wants to work), and being assertive / getting attention when needed (she had an issue with looking like an ‘attention seeker’ when expressing her needs and desires).

Of course, I’ve done much more than just work on secondary gain with her, but already there have been some dramatic changes. An chronic shoulder pain (interestingly, directly behind the breast that was the original source of the cancer) has disappeared; and an old breathing difficulty has cleared up.

Edit: since originally writing this, she had a blood test. Whereas before her blood was always weak, the doctors told her now that it is ‘perfect’. (This is after some very strong chemotherapy, which would normally weaken the blood further).

I’m confident that this is going to be another case of ‘miraculous’ healing. I’ll let you know.

However, the point of this article is this: every cloud has a silver lining. Even our greatest fears and worst nightmares can bring us some kind of benefit, especially when they are old problems that we become accustomed to.

Sometimes, we choose subconsciously to hold on to the benefit, even though consciously we don’t want to.

Do you have an old problem – physical or emotional – that you can’t seem to solve? Can you think of any benefit to it? If you solved the problem, what would you loose? Please feel free to leave a comment (even anonymously) and I’ll see if I can help.

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* - I realize this is a controversial, and somewhat incontrovertible point: however, I believe that most alternative healing modalities and practitioners are less effective than a placebo! A great deal of scientific research has shown that placebos are around 30-40% effective! I think that if we’re really honest about our experiences with alternative healing we can say that very few healers or therapists are able to guarantee successful results (by which I simply mean permanent healing) in over 40% of their clients.

** - For the purpose of simplicity I am rolling Primary gain, Secondary gain and Tertiary gain into one.

London is burning. (Here's why).

2011-08-10T20:04:00.002+02:00

Photograph: Kerim Okten/EPA

I spent 14 years living in London. I lived in Tottenham—North London—where this past weekend’s rioting started, and Hackney, where it continues. I didn’t live in Peckham, Lewisham, Croydon or Brixton—South London—where more rioting has since broken out.

The violence has not only been rife throughout London—on a 30 mile radius—but also throughout England. The cities and counties of Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol and Nottinghamshire have all seen hundreds of people rampaging through streets destroying property and looting.

There are reports of scores of injured police; many shops have been looted; bins, cars, buses, shops and residences have been set alight.

London is burning.

My job was to take a group of up to 15 young people (aged 16 – 25) and help them to turn their lives around. These were young people who had fallen through society’s ‘net’. I worked with drug addicts, prison leavers and pregnant teenage girls. I was alone with this group of 15. There was no funding for the assistant that I was supposed to have.When I moved out of London seven years ago, I worked for one year as a youth worker in Watford (a large town in the suburbs of London), and what I learnt in that year astounded me...
I could tell you some horror stories. But not now.

Now, all I want to say is this: look at what’s happening. The thin veneer of our ‘civilized’ society is torn back, and all the world is able to see what lurks beneath. Anarchy.

Why? Today’s youth have been betrayed.

The work I did that year was ridiculously under-funded. I once told my manager that I was reluctant to take a certain boy on a week-long field trip because I feared for the safety of the girls in the group (this boy had recently come out of prison: convicted of stabbing a man in the chest). My manager told me I had to take him. The reason: every ‘YP’ (young person) that I took meant extra funding for the course. We couldn’t survive without it.

My fears were later justified when I was forced to send him home early—he pulled a knife on me.

A few years previous to that, I had voted (along with most of the country) Tony Blair into power as Prime Minister. Why had I voted for him? These three words of his:

“Education, education, education”.

A few years later lack of funding in the education system almost cost me my life: the country had enough money to carry out an illegal, unnecessary and unwanted war in Iraq, but apparently not enough to take care of its own young.

On the news today I’ve seen various politicians talking about ‘criminality’ and ‘gratuitous violence‘. One police chief, when asked what was the cause of the rioting, said that it was just ‘kids looking for some excitement in the summer holidays’.

What hope is there for a better future when the people whose responsibility it is (and who have the power) for making these things better have absolutely no clue as to what is causing the problem in the first place? Or don’t care…

I believe that Western capitalist democracies are a disaster. I believe that what we’ve seen over this last weekend in England, and especially London, is the tip of the iceberg. I urge you to pay attention (most of your attention, not just some of it) to your children, and to the children in your communities. They are the future, plain and simple.

At the moment, the future is not bright.

Please leave a comment. What do you think is the cause of the explosion of violence we’ve witnessed in the UK this last weekend?

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Get out feeling good. (The wise grieve neither for the living, nor for the dead.)

2011-07-14T10:58:00.001+02:00

Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Marat, oil on canvas, 1793 (Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Brussels)

You probably think you are “(insert your name)”. You’re not – you can legally change your name, but you won’t have changed what you are – your name is just a handle with which the world is able to pick you up and examine you.

You probably think of yourself as either a man or a woman. You’re not. That is just a gender association that you make based upon the genetic choices that your cells made when your body was being formed biologically. You are only an association as long as you are not being the genuine article.

You probably think of yourself primarily as your body. Most people do...

You’re not your body anymore than you are your car!

When you sit in your car, you don’t say: “I am a Ford / Honda / Daewoo”! (At least, I hope you don’t). You probably say: “I’m driving my Daewoo”.

Your car is just a vehicle that transports you from A to B.

Your body is just a vehicle that transports you from A to B. A very beautiful, wonderful, miraculous vehicle, but a vehicle nonetheless.

You are not your body. This may sound strange to you until you consider the following: if you have an accident one day and the doctor has to amputate a leg or two, (let’s say for the sake of argument – all your limbs)… will you be any less you? No, you’ll be the same you, just without arms and legs.

You probably think of yourself as American (or Slovene, English… whatever nationality passport you carry). You are not. That is just a label that you were given. Labels limit you – you are much more than a label.

You are not American any more than you are Christian, or Buddhist, or Jewish, or Muslim, or … insert any other religious / spiritual belief system. These are just labels that you identify with. The real you is beyond labels, beyond identification.

You are pure light (bear with me here if you’re allergic to new-age-isms – I am too! But this is truth…) You are all colors and no color. You are pure light.

You are pure light. You are pure consciousness. You are pure love.

What is pure light, consciousness, love? Are these just nice words; nice new-age concepts that are devoid of real meaning?

No! They seem that way sometimes because their meaning is so subtle… but love, light, and consciousness are the fundamental properties of existence!

‘In the beginning was the word’: Consciousness.

And God said, ‘let there be light’: Consciousness.

Pure consciousness is what you really are.

Pure consciousness is your essence.

Your body, emotions, and thoughts are simply waves of consciousness. All that you think you are – just waves of consciousness.

What you really are is pure consciousness.

Swami Vishnu Devananda used to say something every morning when he taught the Sivananda Yoga teacher training course. He used to ask the question:

“What is today?”

When I was asked this same question (by his disciple Swami Mahadevananda), I replied ‘Monday’.

He said ‘No’. And waited.

‘5^th February?’

‘No’. Long pause.

‘Your birthday?!’

Smile. ‘No. It’s another day closer to death’.

Today is another day closer to death.

Death is coming. Sooner or later it will catch up with you… how will you feel in that moment?

Will you be afraid? Sad? Regretful?

Will you be joyful? Excited? Will you celebrate?!

What dies is only the body. We do not die. Just as it is written in the Bhagavad Gita:

“The wise grieve neither for the living nor for the dead.

Nor at any time indeed was I not, nor these rulers of men, nor verily shall we ever cease to be hereafter.

Just as in this body the embodied (soul) passes into childhood, youth and old age, so also does he pass into another body; the firm man does not grieve thereat…

…The unreal hath no being; there is no non-being of the Real; the truth about both has been seen by the knowers of the Truth.

Know That to be indestructible, by whom all this is pervaded. None can cause the destruction of That, the Imperishable.

Weapons cut It not, fire burns It not, water wets It not, wind dries It not.

This Self cannot be cut, burnt, wetted nor dried up. It is eternal, all-pervading, stable, ancient and immovable.”

So, the job, the house, the ‘stuff’. All the places we direct our attention: how important are they? You can’t take any of it with you.

At that final moment, when you are about to leave this body, the only thing that will matter is how you feel. That is important. You won’t be thinking about your bank balance, or your mortgage, or the news, or any of the other things that take up so much of our time these days.

You will be aware only of how you feel.

My advice: get out feeling good (without regret; without sadness; without fear).

Because perhaps death is just the first step of the next part of your journey, and the first step of any journey is a big one.

Get out feeling good.

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