It’s Not Money But Being Useful That Makes Us Happy.

Meaning, Purpose and engagement with life = Happiness
Meaning, Purpose and engagement with life = Happiness
Source: Substack

“I’m fed up with life. I feel miserable. It’s like everything is against me,” he said, “my doctor has had to up the dosage of my anti-depressants.”

Listening to my friend talk about his hardships made my blood boil. This guy had everything going for him—money, a great wife and kids, several homes all over the world, a burgeoning business and good friends around him.

Images of his last holiday to the Maldives, the one thousand euro wine bottles he often drank, and the Rolex watches he wore flashed through my mind.

I immediately judged him for being entitled, spoiled, and not grateful for the life he had.

To me, he was in the top 3% of people alive. So how can he dare complain? Talk about living a privileged life in a world where the disparity between the elite and the rest is at its highest ever.

Finally, I couldn’t sit through his monologue. “Oh, please. You have so much goodness in your life. I don’t think you can complain, as I can’t about the privileged life we both live.”

He looked at me with a scornful smile. “Just because I have money—the money I made with my own two hands—doesn’t mean I have no right to vent about not being happy. We all have different battles to fight.”

Of course, he was right. I had no right to judge. He had created his successful business independently and invested his money wisely. Just because he was rich didn’t mean that I could assume he had to be happy as well.

The next morning, after journalling and examining myself, I realized many people had probably used the same argument against me during my midlife existential crisis in 2008.

I was well-off, healthy and had good relationships around me, but I was depressed only to go see a psychiatrist who prescribed anti-depressants to me.

I recoiled at how I must have sounded, too.

I texted my friend a long apology and decided to work on my issues instead and write this post, hoping he would read it.

None of us has the right to judge, question, or criticise people who are genuinely unhappy for whatever reason. We have no right to dismiss their pain or differentiate pain according to some hierarchy.

Pain is pain. Unhappiness is unhappiness.

Yes, we often need a dose of reality to awaken us and see that we are not in such dire circumstances. But what if he can’t? What if he can’t see a way through? What if all the trauma he’s suffered as a kid was finally catching up on him? (We’ve all suffered trauma, whether it’s low-key or heavy.)

I wrote in my journal that I needed to be more compassionate, understanding, and supportive of anyone who has had the guts to express their pain and not hide behind masks.

I’m regularly hard on myself, too, often dismissing my own pain as insignificant compared to others’ misfortune. I also needed to be more self-compassionate.

I believe that pain and suffering are alarms raised by our physical and emotional bodies to signal that not all is well. They nudge us to start asking questions about our mental well-being.

What traumas and unanswered questions have we ignored? Pain can become a gift, but only when we see it as a hurdle to overcome rather than a block. It is a gift if you see it as the point where the universe pushes you to change your road map.

We live our lives just like a rocket going to the moon. It is, of course, about 95% of the time – and it gets there only because of constant, tiny re-adjustments along the way.

The ‘Gifts of Adversity’ are those things that seem like detours but turn out to be tiny adjustments that help guide us to our destination. They start off as little hints and then become stronger messages, and if you continue to ignore them, they finally hit you hard as adversities.

When we start digging into our psyche, we notice how enslaved we are by our ego, which has paralyzed us with fears, self-pity, and resentment. We see that our old ways of living are not serving our new ways of being.

Back in 2011, in a one-on-one coaching session with Bob Proctor, I explained to him that I’d felt ambivalent about my life, as I had made money but wasn’t happy.  He said, “Then it’s time you challenged yourself and played a bigger game.”

Perhaps, after making so much money, my friend needed to find something new and purposeful to do.

Sebastian Junger’s quote from his book Tribe comes to mind:  “Humans don’t mind hardship; in fact, they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary.”

From the way we treat our bodies to the way we connect with people, we need to have meaning, a purpose, and some big intentions regarding how and what we want to create with our lives.

Below are the hard questions I asked myself to get myself out of my disheartening time:

  • What keeps me in the highest vibration all the time?
  • Is my business really what I want to do now?
  • Are the relationships I have serving my real truth?
  • What are my unique gifts?
  • What am I here to do?
  • How can I serve humanity?

Without my friend’s sad, expressive words to himself and us, it’s easy to avoid those big questions, even when our bodies and energy levels have been whispering them for months.

Living consciously means making ourselves feel necessary like we’re an important cog in the universe’s constantly moving wheels.

Because we are the universe.

Khalil Gibran on Love: A Poetic Journey

Khalil Gibran on Love: A Poetic Journey
Khalil Gibran on Love: A Poetic Journey
Source: Substack


I smashed the phone against the wall, and it shattered into pieces.

I dropped to my knees and prayed to be released from this thing called love.

It was our third big fight in one month.

I was in my last year of college and 18 months into a relationship. The earlier passion had long since worn off, quickly replaced by arguments and misunderstandings. Our different interests, values and visions of the future surfaced in every minute detail of the present.

We both knew we had reached the end, but were just too afraid to admit it. Finally, she left college, left the country, and went back to her home. We’ve never spoken since.

That experience marked me. It confused me. How could something so good turn out to be so ugly? I was way too young to comprehend the full intricacies of love.

How can we genuinely describe love? It’s not one feeling, but a thousand-and-one feelings that burrow into our being and infiltrate every cell of our body. Love changes the way we think, feel, and speak. Love makes us act stupid and godly—sometimes all within a few minutes. It can take us to great heights of ecstasy, but also bring us down into an abyss of agony.

So then, how can one word or a few sentences possibly express the full meaning of love?

Thankfully, we have the poets.

And if you ask me, poets don’t come better than Kahlil Gibran. Every time I read his words, I start to feel an inner tingling in my heart, and my soul begins chirping like the nightingale he so lyrically describes. I cling to his every word as if it were God speaking directly to me.

Gibran wrote in both Arabic and English, and his best work was produced in the era of the roaring twenties in New York City. He was influenced by the free thought and exuberance of that time, and he was regularly associated with W.B. Yeats, Carl Jung and Rodin. His seminal book, The Prophet, is amongst the best-selling books of all time—after The Bible and Shakespeare’s collections.

There is a simplicity and beauty to his writings that reach far and wide. He offers spiritual and philosophical musings on love, God, family, work, death and so many other threads that unite humanity.

And it is his incredible exploration in ‘The Prophet’ that, I believe, tells us all we need to know about love:

“When love beckons to you, follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams

as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”

Gibran’s thoughts changed my perspective on love. I now see love not as something I can choose but rather as something that chooses me. Love, in taking us on a rollercoaster ride and unlocking the vaulted gates to our hearts, is actually purifying us—making us the best version of ourselves.

Love, when allowed, will “descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”

Don’t be afraid of opening your heart and what ensues.

11 Quotes By Kahlil Gibran That Are Indelibly Stamped In My Heart.

11 Quotes By Kahlil Gibran That Are Indelibly Stamped In My Heart.
11 Quotes By Kahlil Gibran That Are Indelibly Stamped In My Heart.
Source: Kahlil Gibran

There is one book I carry with me wherever I go: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.

Every time I read a few pages, I start to feel an inner tingling in my heart, and my soul starts chirping like the nightingale he so lyrically describes. It’s true that I cling to his words harder than the average person because we both come from Lebanon. However, his great fame and works both as a poet and an artist have had a profound effect on many people around the world.

Gibran wrote in both Arabic and English, and his best work was produced in the era of the Roaring Twenties in New York, USA. He was influenced by the free thought and exuberance of that time, and he was regularly associated with W.B. Yeats, Carl Jung and August Rodin. His seminal book The Prophet is amongst the best-selling books of all time after the Bible and Shakespeare’s collections.

Though critics initially ignored his books, they have influenced world leaders like J.F. Kennedy, The Beatles and many millions around the globe. There is both simplicity and beauty to his writings that reach far and wide. They offer spiritual and philosophical musings on God, love, family, work, death and many other threads that unite humanity.

Below are 11 quotes from Gibran that I read regularly and that are indelibly stamped in my heart:

1) “Your daily life is your temple and your religion.”

2)“You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.”

3)“Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

4)“Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.”

5)“Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

6)“You give but little when you give of your possessions.It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”

7)“I love you when you bow in your mosque, kneel in your temple, pray in your church. For you and I are sons of one religion, and it is the spirit.”

8)“No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.”

9)“When you love you should not think you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

10)“Say not, ‘I have found the truth,’ but rather, ‘I have found a truth.’ Say not, ‘ I have found the path of the soul.’ Say rather, ‘I have met the soul walking upon my path.’ For the soul walks upon all paths. The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed. The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.”

11)“Work is love made visible. And if you can’t work with love, but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of the people who work with joy”

If you had to choose one, then which one would it be?

2024: The Year of Living Mindfully

2024: The Year of Living Mindfully
2024: The Year of Living Mindfully
Source: Substack

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”― E. B. White

I’ve always been a goal-chaser.

Most years, I set too many goals. I accomplish many of them but end up dissatisfied when they are achieved and tormented with guilt if they are not.

However, in 2024, I want to take it slow, do away with the structure of goal-setting and instead adopt a more casual approach to living.

I’m adopting the US Navy Seals slogan: Slow is Smooth. Smooth is Fast. I will emblazon it in front of my writing desk and in my mind.

The overarching theme of my year will be to lessen the pressure I put on myself. To take things slowly. To reduce the overwhelm, the choices and the anxiety that ensues— “To arise in the morning and savour the world.”

I want to be like the river that meanders slowly through a lush, tranquil forest, taking its time as it navigates around bends and obstacles, but despite its slow pace, its path remains smooth and efficient, eventually leading to a wide, peaceful lake.

The truth is that we exist on earth for only a short while. So why can’t we occasionally treat life as an exciting adventure, trying to make the best out of it while allowing it to unravel its many mysteries?

Not every activity must be a means to an end. Sitting on the sofa does not mean I have to watch TV. Taking a walk does not need to be measured for distance and speed. Watching the birds in nature doesn’t have to be labelled as a mindful exercise to be done on Wednesdays at 5 pm.

During the COVID-19 outbreak and that month when I had to remain at home and isolated, the slowing down was somehow forced onto me. It proved to be a window on how I wanted to live.

However, when the isolation ended and life got back to normal, I quickly went back to my old ways of doing, and everything resumed being urgent.

In order to be able to live this life of Slow is Smooth. Smooth is Fast; there are a few concepts to adopt.

A) Think More Long-Term

To think in ten-year periods, instead of two or three years, means playing a long game that we can both win and enjoy. Doing so means we can focus more on creating systems than setting goals.

With these systems, I’m doing something on a regular basis that makes me better and more content in the long run, regardless of immediate outcomes.

I don’t get the instant gratification that achieving a goal can give, but I also don’t carry the stress of not reaching a goal.

B)Less is More

We burden our lives with too many unnecessary choices, putting ourselves under pressure and not saving the much-needed energy for the bigger things in our lives.

We invite alternatives in our lives, not because we want the best option, but only because we’re bored with what we are doing. We are bored not due to a lack of choices but rather because we are not content with ourselves.

We feel that we are missing out on something. We compare what we are doing with what others are doing and presume it would give us more joy to do the things that they are doing.

Between 2015 and 2020, I read a book a week and averaged about 45-50 books a year. Over the last few years, due to company, family and social needs, I just haven’t been able to maintain that momentum. Not reading that many books has made me feel inadequate and unworthy.

For 2024, I’ve committed to 15 books instead. It’s a more gettable target that sits well with all my other responsibilities.

C)Say No

Whether setting new objectives, taking on new hobbies or adopting new habits, we overestimate how much time we have in a day, week, month and year.

In 2024, I will not attempt to restart my meditation practice. I’ve been on and off my meditation practice for the past five years. Every time I stop, I feel like a loser. So why start and get disappointed when I’m obviously not ready?

I’ve also deleted Twitter(X) as not only does it take much of my time, but it also makes me more anxious and angry.

D) The Sunk Cost Fallacy

We often keep doing something just because we’ve already spent time, money, or effort on it and not because it’s the best choice now. We make decisions based on what we’ve already done, not what’s good for the future.

Last year, my company spent a lot of money, effort, and time studying whether to open another branch in another city, only for me to pull the plug at the last minute.

I thought long and hard about abandoning our efforts, not because it was wise and right to do so (it was) but only because I felt burdened by all the team’s efforts during the feasibility study.

What’s gone is gone. So, there is no point holding onto it when it won’t serve us.

This easy, casual approach works better now that I’m 55 and that I have a good sense of what I truly enjoy and want in my life.

For me, I have redefined what success means to me. It’s not more money, running marathons or getting on the New York Times bestseller list that drives me.

Instead, I just want to enjoy and improve in my areas of focus so that I can:

  • Run my business with surgical efficiency.
  • Write. Improve my writing. Engage with writers and readers.
  • Be as healthy as ever. Eat more protein. Move daily by doing strength exercises, workouts, walking, and playing Padel. Sleep well. Take the right supplements.
  • Travel adventurously.

Hurry Slowly in 2024.

5 Insights That Made 2023 a Year of Growth

5 Insights That Made 2023 a Year of Growth
5 Insights That Made 2023 a Year of Growth
Source: Elephant Journal

“The world is the true classroom. The most rewarding and important type of learning is through experience, seeing something with our own eyes.” ~ Jack Hanna.

Approaching the end of the year, I like to review it so that I can reflect and start the new one with a bang. Doing so helps clarify what worked, what didn’t, and the lessons I learned.

We might read a great piece of advice that has the potential to work miracles in our lives, but until we internalise it or relate it to our own experience, we won’t trust it.

The best way to learn is through experience. Unless we absorb an emotion as a lesson, it will never become wisdom, rather remaining as abstract knowledge parked somewhere out in the ether.

These are the five lessons the last year has driven to my core:

1) My Life and Goals won’t end on New Year’s.

I now look at goal-setting not as a mere one-, two- or three-year plan, but rather more like a 20-year life plan. I think more in terms of creating systems than setting goals. With these systems, I’m doing something on a regular basis that makes me better and more content in the long run, regardless of immediate outcomes.

I don’t get the instant gratification that achieving a goal can give, but I also don’t carry the stress of not reaching a goal.

My ultimate aspiration—and one that I will pursue endlessly and ruthlessly—is to become a writer who earns enough money from writing to cover a comfortable lifestyle. I’m giving myself as much time as possible, as I know it’s not something I’ll achieve within the next few years.

In the meantime, I’m enjoying the journey of transitioning from a business owner(and all the stresses it brings) to becoming a full-time writer (and all the stresses it brings) and using its fire to power on in my life.

2) Health is Everything.

If you had told me health matters when I was under 40, I would have nodded politely but shrugged it off the same way most people shrug off global warming—yes, it’s a problem, but not mine, and I have more pressing issues.

However, as I’ve hit my 50s, I get it; it affects me in the now. It’s less about dying early and more about living well until I die. In the past few years, I can’t remember a week where I haven’t had some pain or mild distress, whether it’s from trying some exercise I shouldn’t or not warming up my muscles well enough. Or I’ll have gastrointestinal and digestive problems from eating badly, drinking excessively or binging on sugar.

These minor health issues, though not deadly, wreak havoc on my mind, and I end up spending many hours like a zombie, unable to do any of the things I want to do. They quickly lead me to despair and often take me down the dark road of melancholy. I could swear that every time I’ve suffered such emotions, I could trace them back to a failure in my body—some health issue.

3) Embrace Simplicity.

I can still feel the overwhelm that has overpowered me in the last few years. I took on too many projects. I tried to change too many things in my life, and in the end, I lost my way and often my mind.

If we listen closely to our hearts, there is an inherent urge in us to simplify our lives. Fewer decisions mean less energy spent. And so instead of more, we should choose less to help us focus, engage and enjoy those valuable things.

The more we get rid of anything unnecessary, the better we feel. All that extra is clutter—wasteful—and that stands in the way of our inner peace and contentment. By removing the unnecessary, we make room for what is essential and acquire more focus.

What is “essential” differs considerably for each of us. As such, simplifying our lives is a personal and very much subjective endeavour.

Like Zorba, I want to feel “once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.” (From Nikos Kazantzakis’s Zorba the Greek.)

4) Kaizen and the Power of One Percent Improvement.

Kaizen is a Japanese term that has become famous in the West. It describes continuous improvement through small incremental changes that accumulate over time. It’s used in the corporate world for developing systems and practices, and it’s one of the core principles that Toyota used to become the number one car producer in the world.

We tend to associate change with some large, visible result, like a before-and-after picture of someone who has lost weight in a few months. In reality, however, the greatest shifts occur when we make incremental changes daily. This way, we don’t put too much pressure on ourselves and overload our capacity.

Whether it’s in my business, writing or playing Padle Tennis, I want to remind myself of the power of Kaizen to improve a little every day, every week and every month.

5) We are a Product of our Habits.

Over the last 5-7 years, I set about solidifying the habits I wanted in my life. I called them my “non-negotiables” and committed them to a daily practice.

They include rising early, usually just before the sun, meditating for 20 minutes, and journalling for three Julia Cameron morning pages. In the late afternoons, these non-negotiables involve reading for an hour and then writing for at least an hour or a thousand words.

These practices have become the pillars of my daily living—the small bridges to my soul. It’s as if, when I’m doing them consistently, I’m closer to my higher self. I fill up my body with enough soul to be able to live a day in the physical world.

Often, when I’m travelling or on holiday, I somehow manage to stop my daily practice. Without realising it, I close the door to my soul, and my mood transforms from intentions of relaxation and fun to a swarm of negative thoughts.

I then find myself counting the hours to get back to my physical home and my spiritual abode—my daily practices.

These lessons have now entered my subconscious, and I feel I can apply all of them to all aspects of my life. I will do so unconsciously, as they have become part of me. This is what I stand for and how I want to live until I die.

We Can’t Hoard Happiness

We Can't Hoard Happiness
We Can't Hoard Happiness
Source: Elephant Journal

‘The perfect man’, said Chuang-tzu, ’employs his mind as a mirror; it grasps nothing, it refuses nothing, it receives but does not keep.”― Alan W. Watts, The Supreme Identity.

I’m reading The Sun Also Rises (again) while waiting for my turn to collect my passport. A man next to me complains that people are cutting the line. “What takes 30 minutes will take 2 hours,” he says, “This is Lebanon.”

That could easily have been me complaining if not for Hemingway. I’m proud of myself for not getting angry or resentful that my time is being wasted.

Finally, after exactly two hours, I’m ushered into a small room filled with three uniformed men, many folders and large envelopes. After giving my name, I’m handed my new passport.

Walking out to the town square, I feel a sense of joy, an accomplishment done with grace—none of my usual tantrums. Doing these small obligatory errands makes me not sleep the night before. I know I sound ridiculous, but that’s the truth. I often find ways not to do or persuade others to do them.

With the passport in hand, it feels like a big win. And yet, instead of staying with that triumphant feeling, I’m thinking about how I should act in this same manner when faced with similar things to do in the future.

Do I always carry a book with me? Perhaps I was feeling sorry for the Lebanese officials who earn less than $200 a month and are doing their best that I remain serene. Setting the right expectations before leaving for the passport office is crucial.

A white dove flies by, and as I stop analysing and admire the bird’s flight, I realise I’m ruining my special moment. I’m turning a win into a loss. I’m killing the goose, the golden egg and whatever else comes next.

That’s me in a nutshell. I hardly dwell in the present. I’m always thinking ahead, what’s next, and how to be strategic.

It’s tiring. It’s unmindful. It’s ruining the small pockets of joy in my life.

It isn’t enough that I usually beat myself up when things don’t go my way. I also find ways to do so when something does go right.

Other situations come to mind. Like when I’ve just finished a good writing session, my mind doesn’t say well done; instead, how can I set the right conditions to write the same way tomorrow as I did today?

I regularly turn potential sources of happiness into a source of stress.

Buddhism has a concept known as taṇhā, defined as the craving to hold onto pleasurable experiences and be separated from painful or unpleasant experiences.

This longing comes from our underlying fear of facing our finitude.

Our evolutionary biology means that we want certainty. We want to control our environment and look for ways to predict the future to remain safe and survive.

But we end up standing outside our present experiences without ever getting into them.

Instead of processing these joyful moments, we kill them.

No matter how much we plan, we can’t always have the same outcomes. There’s always a different agenda at play.

Experiences are meant to be had.

We can’t hoard happy experiences to use for later.

I’ve learned to control my outcomes since I was very young. I had to survive in a new country after a sudden departure from home without much support at 11. That mindset helped me then, but it has outlived its usefulness today.

During the COVID-19 outbreak and that month when I had to remain at home and isolated, something strange happened; I found myself letting go and being more present.

In slowing down and not drowning in the noise of my own life—troubles at work, societal pressures, meetings and/or deadlines—I became calmer and more content without any expectations or responsibilities. It’s like I pressed pause but without any consequences in doing so.

Throughout that month, my phone hardly rang. There were few urgent emails to respond to and even fewer people to deal with.

There was a sense of freedom that I hadn’t had for many years.

I felt light, more mindful of the world and me in the world. I was reminded that I’m nothing but a speck of cosmic dust. All these shadows I chased weren’t that important.

Suddenly, what seemed urgent became less so. Instead, what became important was family, friendships, health, and being happy.

Everything was so uncertain that I didn’t have to face the future. I didn’t care about what happened tomorrow. I was freed from the responsibility of thinking about what could happen in the future.

I started to live in the now and savour what I was doing. Blissful afternoon walks, having good conversations with friends in the evening while red wine flowed, and reading for at least an hour every morning.

However, the challenge is remaining present while living my everyday life despite all the pressures it provides. How can I treat my mind as a mirror? Savouring small bouts of happiness instead of saving them.

Awareness helps. But so does practice. I’ve got to battle my 11-year-old, who still lives in me. To explain to him that control up to a point becomes unnecessary and, instead, letting go is the key to happiness.

I’ve now made it a point to write at least one win every morning, no matter how small. For example, in the past week, I took a few minutes to appreciate how Hemingway introduced a new writing method in The Sun Also Rises. The early morning workout focused on my legs on Tuesday, which left me feeling the testosterone rise in my body.

Then there was having a Kanafeh sandwich—a traditional dessert(to be eaten at breakfast) made with fine semolina dough, soaked in sweet, sugar-based syrup, and typically layered with cheese, all fitted into a Lebanese street “Kaak” bread.

I’ve set up our company meetings to start with the week’s wins. I’ve also asked people around to remind me to celebrate my successes constantly.

The more I celebrate my wins, the less control I’d deem necessary.

Enjoying, savouring, and dwelling in my joyful moments is what I hope to do.

What other ways can we celebrate our wins and let go of our analysing mind?

Making Sense of Money

Antony Trivet | pexel.com

“While money can’t buy happiness, it certainly lets you choose your own form of misery.” ― Groucho Marx

 

A decade ago, I got a call from the Rolex shop.

The DEEPSEA Sea-dweller watch I’d been eyeing had arrived, and I was to pay the balance and collect. I already owned four watches; this was my fifth purchase within the past two years.

However, over the weeks before the call, I began having doubts. It all started innocently enough. I questioned whether I needed another costly watch. This then snowballed into an existential money crisis.

I put the watch on my wrist. It was rather heavy and looked too big for my hand. I felt a gnawing inside me, a heaviness in my chest and a mental nausea. It was similar to the feeling after a gluttonous bout of eating chocolate or Big Macs.

I didn’t feel good about owning another Rolex, even though I could afford it. I decided there and then to sell it back to the store, which readily accepted it. There were many customers for such an exclusive watch.

I then proceeded to get rid of my other four watches systematically.

I haven’t worn a watch since that day. I see the watch as a symbol of ostentatiousness—a way to tell others how much money we have.

I’ve always felt conflicted about money; I have a love-hate relationship with it. One day, I love the comforts it affords me. On another day,  I loathe it for how people (and myself) act around it.

My ongoing dual relationship with money stems from the fact that, as much as I know it is a powerful tool with lots of benefits, I’m also wary of its hold on me and how easily it can suck me into the hedonistic, materialistic, empty kind of life I fear living.

Since giving away my watches, I started to examine what I could do to use money more meaningfully. The line between using money as a tool and being enslaved by it is thin and dangerous.

These are the five principles that have helped me clarify and define that thin line:

1. Negative connotations and fear surround money.

We project many negative beliefs onto money. The religious ones fill us with guilt the second we start enjoying our hard-earned cash. The socialist ideologies plaster our eyes with images of hunger and starvation across the globe, urging us to feel guilty about our spending rather than guiding us to be proactive in donating. The ‘nouveau riche’ show us an ugly, irresponsible culture that makes us cringe and declare ourselves socialists forever.

Money becomes stigmatised; as such, much fear surrounds it.

Those who have money are afraid of losing it. They can’t imagine a life where they don’t live at an important address, go to the best restaurants and show off in the sexiest cars.

Those who don’t have it fear they will never have it. They see themselves as not worthy enough to have money and what it brings. It affects their self-esteem, and soon, they start to adopt a scarcity mindset.

2. Money is a necessary tool, like food and water.

We need enough money to meet our basic needs (or to satisfy Maslow’s hierarchical level one security needs—food on the table, rent, kids’ schooling and welfare, insurance and medical).

Money is simply a means to an end. Many people are rich and miserable, while others who earn a dollar a day are happy. Conversely, some rich people are happy, and many needy individuals suffer incredible pain.

A study in 2010 suggested an annual income of $75,000 is enough to make most Americans satisfied and happy on a day-to-day basis. The point here is not the amount—as what could cost $75,000 in the US could be $5,000 in Africa or $150,000 in Norway—but the idea of a set amount that can care for our basic needs.

3. How (and not how much) we spend determines our well-being.

We are all different, and if we are true to our likes and dislikes and spend accordingly, that can determine our happiness. In these heady consumerist days, deciding how we want to spend our money is often difficult.

A new study by Cambridge University confirms that when we match our spending habits with our personalities, we are happiest.

For example, “conscientious” people spend more on health and fitness, while “agreeable” characters would like to donate to charities. Both types of personalities are happier when they spend time in these characteristic ways.

4. Money doesn’t necessarily buy freedom—and could be its obstacle

Most of us believe that money will give us freedom and independence. It could, but most of the time, the only barrier to freedom is in our minds. It’s not money, but rather our limiting beliefs with which we grew up, that stop us from breaking out of our comfortable and dependent lives.

Having more money usually means buying more “chains,” as James Altucher put it. The bigger house needs more maintenance and work. The third car means we have more cars than drivers. The many shoes to choose from drive our cortisol levels up because we stress out with too many choices. Even when we do choose, we always feel like shit when we see the new “thing” on another person, which makes ours appear so out of season.

5. Money can never substitute love.

Lovers often buy gifts for each other when they have argued or messed up. A gift arrives after a frenzied argument. Smiles. Hugs. Kisses.

True, gifts can smooth things over and create a receptive atmosphere for dialogue, but they can never compensate for love and compassion.

Money can never replace love. Money can never buy love.

Only when we experience true love and go through all its intricacies do we understand that fact. People who say money can replace love don’t have issues with money; they have a problem with love.

We often complicate the meaning we give to money because of the importance the world has attached to it.

Money is a universal tool to do what we want in life.

It is not as evil as many would lead us to believe.

It is also not the saviour many think.

Once we know what we want in life—and what we want to do with money—it can become easier to navigate that thin line between being its master or its servant.

Write Like F*cking Bukowski

charles_bukowski
Charles Bukowski | Photo: Bukowski.net

“If you’re losing your soul and you know it, then you’ve still got a soul left to lose”― Charles Bukowski.

Lately, I’ve felt most of what I write is okay. It’s good, polished, but too vanilla. It’s like I’m writing for the audience. I’m preaching to the choir—I’m not vulnerable, intimate, or curious enough.

Yes, I’m getting nice pats on the back, but no awe-inspiring hugs. I’m getting bored with my own writing, as probably are my readers. I’ve stopped using words like serendipity, synchronicity, archetypical and all those intriguing words that Carl Jung would use.

I think it all stems from the fact that I’ve become too blasé. I stopped saying: “What the f*ck, anymore?”

Like when you watch a sunset, large birds flying in a ‘V’ formation or taste that baked cheesecake, and you say: “What the f*ck?”

Like when you read Bukowski and say: “What the f*ck?”

When I started writing almost 7 years ago, I’d sit in front of my laptop with classical music playing in the background and smoke a cigar, as I’m doing so right now.

I’d spend an hour producing short prose poetry inspired by my favourite poets: Charles Bukowski, Rumi and Gibran. They spoke to me like assassins sent from another world to destroy my ego.

After that hour or so, I’d produce something like this poem below:

The Lost Seagull 

I sit alone facing the sun

far away from the din

and all that plastic that

life has conjured behind me.

The mix of orange, yellow and red blinds my vision, taking me 

to another world.

A world where sunsets are long 

Conversations flow

Smiles are real

And so are the tears that fall.

The roar of the Mediterranean Sea

and the sight of the waves crashing down

onto the sea

is deafening.

It envelops me

further into that other world 

A lone seagull hovers down and sits next to me

 a beautiful bird,

 pure white with a few 

grey strands under its neck. It too has left its flock searching for that

other world. 

It looks at me—I look back at it. 

It flies off. 

Or when I went for a walk a few days ago, listened to Gelong Thubten (a Buddhist Monk) on a podcast with Dr Chatterjee and came up with this:

Be Fearless

Two fear-based feelings dominate us. 

One is fear of not getting what we want. Like not being invited to their 50th birthday, no padle court at 5 pm on a Tuesday, 

not the life we promised ourselves.

The other is fear of getting what you don’t want. Like being invited to their 50th birthday, 

a leg injury, so you can’t play padle,

or when life is being sucked out of you.

There are no other emotions. 

They all evolve from these two fears.

Learn to let go of them.

Master them. 

Live happily ever after.

But what about love, you ask? 

Love is not an emotion but our state of being. 

We are love when we overcome our fears. 

We are love when we remove obstacles

that stand in its way.

I know my poems won’t win the Pulitzer, but they came from my heart. When I was done, it left me feeling like I’d just met Rumi in that ‘field, the one beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing.’  Trust me, that’s a good place.

Back then, when I wrote from my heart, I allowed my soul to speak. To question my actions, where I’m going in life, why I’m unhappy, and why I am enslaved to society’s well-drawn-out path. To remind me that I could always stop to say, “What the f*ck?”

And when my soul did speak, I’d spend the rest of the day on a high that is hard to explain. I’d say to myself, f*ck you all. Did you allow your soul a few words today? Probably not. Well, I did. So f*ck you all. ( I’m still a young soul, so allow me a bit of obnoxiousness.)

Things changed when people started praising me and following my work; I began to take myself too seriously. I slowly started writing for them. Not for me. I learned to write better, polish, and rewrite my essays, so everything was very good.

There were publications, plaudits and ego glorification. I then pursued an MFA, only to give up halfway after a snowmobile accident made it hard for me to travel. Perhaps my soul was trying to scream: “Please don’t become so good that you ignore me. ”

A few weeks ago, I spent nearly every day reading Bukowski. Yesterday, I printed, blew up and pinned the words: “Write Like F*cking Bukowski,” so it’s visible whenever I write on my desk.

There is something about Bukowski that invokes the primal in me. Maybe it is how he looks: ugly, rough, and dirty, as if he’s a poster boy for Skid Row or met him leaving a bar absolutely drunk. This guy just doesn’t give a f*ck, you’d yourself.

But at the same time, he’s a beautiful soul, and nothing is ugly about what he writes. He is unhinged. He is vulnerable. His clear thinking and words reach places that few of us dare.

Look at this excerpt from his book Factotum below:


“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery–isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”


His whole life was an argument for saying: “What the f*ck?”

But to write like him means to be like him. It means getting off that f*cking hamster wheel of success, status and more. It means allowing your heart to show up even when it’s hurting. It means allowing your soul to express itself even when others would want to look away or downright laugh at you.

To write like Bukowski means not following the rules, not being afraid of writing crap, and not fearing missing out on being published. It means not giving a shit what anyone thinks. It means taking off that suit and tie and donning a peasant’s beret instead.

So today, I’m saying, what the f*ck. I’m gonna write from pain. I’m gonna write from my heart.

I’m gonna write like F*cking Bukowski.

On Acceptance

Photo: Engin Akyurt|Pexel..com

I’m honest, reliable, productive, principled, idealistic, orderly, and self-disciplined. But I can also be impatient, self-critical, and judgemental of myself and others. Worst of all, I’m always in a hurry.

My enneagram personality type is 1—the Reformer, perfectionist or idealist. I’m motivated by the need to live rightly and driven by a longing for a true, just, and moral world.

Ones are known as reformers because they want to improve the world. They are gifted at bringing order to chaos and creating structures to help others thrive. They strive to overcome adversity — go after higher values, and always remain honest.

But the Reformer can slip into being critical and perfectionistic. They typically have problems with resentment and impatience. At their worst, they can be rigid, controlling, aggressive, uptight, critical, demanding, and impatient.

I can clearly see the two different sides of me. So, how can I live to be the best version of myself?

I think the first step is accepting myself for who I am—accepting that I can be both good and bad. That the same person who is judgemental today can be loving and compassionate the next day.

I know that acceptance is not an easy concept to understand. It is also one which is saddled with many negative undertones. As Carl Jung said, “The most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.”

However, the wiser I’ve become, the more I recognise that only when I can fully accept myself can I be fulfilled. Ignoring my truths is simply a detour from my authentic path.

“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.”—Carl Rogers

True acceptance starts with self-acceptance. Only when we accept ourselves can we be ready to accept others. The opposite of acceptance is judgment. When we stop judging ourselves and start accepting who we truly are, can we rid ourselves of the worst aspects of human suffering—judging, comparing, resisting, grasping and striving?

Acceptance is loving ourselves unconditionally and resisting the perils of striving for perfection. In accepting and loving our own humanness, we start to do likewise with the whole of humanity.

Whether it’s Buddha, Jesus Christ or Prophet Mohammed, they all endured much struggle and pain to arrive at the self-awareness to accept themselves fully.

Only after that could they have enough self-compassion to offer love and compassion to the rest of humanity, alleviate much suffering, and seal their destiny.

What Acceptance is not?

Acceptance is not resignation. It’s not about being passive and allowing life to happen to us, but rather an active process, a preamble to change and become our best versions.

Acceptance does not mean limiting our possibilities but instead provides room for growth as we focus on our inner music and ignore all the noise that hovers in the background.

The 3 principles we need for Acceptance:

Self-awareness

Self-awareness is the stoic understanding that we can’t change events outside of our control but can only change how we perceive them. The reality is that no event in itself can upset us, but rather how we judge that particular event.

We can’t change the fact that the rains will come in May, and perhaps a devastating flood will ensue. However, we can be ready for it and prepare the best we can.

When we focus only on what we can do, then not only are we happier, but we also become more productive and effective as well.

Mindfulness

However, the problem arises when we can’t decipher between our feelings and that of the objective reality. This is when we need to examine what’s happening inside us with the precision of a surgeon.

Tara Brach explains:

“The wing of clear seeing is often described in Buddhist practice as mindfulness. This quality of awareness recognises exactly what is happening in our moment-to-moment experience. When we are mindful of fear, for instance, we are aware that our thoughts are racing, that our body feels tight and shaky, that we feel compelled to flee—and we recognise all this without trying to manage our experience in any way, without pulling away. Because we are not tampering with our experience, mindfulness allows us to see life ‘as it is.’ “

Compassion

Compassion is acceptance in action. Knowing what we must do is easy but often difficult to practice. Compassion can act as a bridge and make that problematic path easier to traverse.

However, it all starts with self-compassion. We can’t give out what we don’t have. So, if our hearts are empty of love, we give very little even when we give.

Tara Brach continues:

“Compassion is our capacity to relate tender and sympathetic to what we perceive. Instead of resisting our feelings of fear or grief, we embrace our pain with the kindness of a mother holding her child.

Rather than judging or indulging our desire for attention or addictive behaviours, we regard our grasping with gentleness and care.

Compassion honours our experience: it allows us to be intimate with this moment’s life as it is. Compassion makes our acceptance whole-hearted and complete.

When we consider all 3 principles at play, Acceptance doesn’t sound like an act of resignation but rather the most important step towards the never-ending ladder of self-awareness, self-growth and the freedom of being who we must be.


Big Change is Hard

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“Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?” ―Rumi

“For someone who keeps talking about positive change, you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, change is not what you see happen in a movie,” I said.

People love to judge, compartmentalise and condemn. It makes them feel better and stronger as if your failure is their gain. However, it was also true that often, ‘who I am’ was not aligned with ‘who I want to be.’

Evolutionary biology has explained that conserving energy is part of our survival mechanism. We seek comfort, routines and certainty, which all make change hard.

If the pain we’re going through does not exceed the suffering we’re willing to put ourselves to change, it won’t happen.

If we don’t want it bad enough, it won’t happen.

My goal isn’t to write a book, create a writing habit and be at peace and harmony with the world. I’ve written several books, write consistently and have many moments of peace in my life.

Instead, I want to be a happy, mindful, contemplative author/thinker, away from affluence and society’s microscope.

From where I’m coming, the transformation I’m seeking is massive. I want to become a new person.

Instead of chasing success, status and money, something I have done most of my life, I crave to be this spiritual warrior who wants less but to be more.

On some days, I feel aligned with that goal, but not on many other days.

This means that I need to question the underlying transformation I desire. To look at it from the big ‘Why’ perspective. Using James Clear’s terminology, the change I seek is not only about changing my outcomes and systems but also my identity, beliefs and worldview.

That is huge.

For most of my 55 years, I have been brought up and lived on a formula that does not fit what I want to be. Success, money, and affluence were the only markers of how to live a good life.

And here is the new me, wanting to do a complete 360-degree change and become the next Rumi, someone who writes, speaks and lives love, compassion and everything that’s good about humanity.

Rumi didn’t start as the 13th-century Persian poet we all cherish today. He was a wealthy nobleman, theologian, and sober Islamic scholar until he met the wandering dervish monk Shams Al Tabriz.

Rumi knew he had met his soul mate as soon as Shams spoke. And Shams knew he had found the star pupil he’d been seeking for 17 years. They retreated to Rumi’s house for almost three months. There, they both touched a godly and inexplicable light source. Each man, with the help of the other, discovered the grace and truth he sought.

After his introduction to the world of mysticism, Rumi awakened and learned everything he could about love — unbounded, compassionate and universal. He would become the most famous son of Sufism and the most-read poet of all time.

Was living like Rumi truly what my soul desired?

I recalled what my psychologist sister once told me: many of her patients came not to change. They wanted her to make them feel better as they continued their old behaviour, nuanced with cosmetic changes masquerading as new behaviour. That’s when she told them the harsh truth that change means you must do the work—a deep excavation to know yourself and what you really want.

Perhaps I was doing just that. Is it true that I want a simple life of peace and harmony? Or was it just something I sought due to the last turbulent years of my life?

Author Parker Palmer has a different way of looking at the question of living truthfully: the central question is not, “Am I living the life I want?” but, as Parker says, “Is the life I am living the same as the life that wants to live in me?”

Shams didn’t come into my life, but writing somehow did. It released the tension in and around my heart, allowing me to dig deep into my psyche and to ‘know myself’ much better.

It made me notice the world around me, empathise with the people in it, and, most importantly, taught me new ways of being with the heart being central to how I thought.

I’m learning that it’s less about getting this or that and going after the shiny goals like publishing a book, getting 100K subscribers, going on a 10-day meditation retreat and more about adopting new behaviours that align with the new ‘Mo’ that I want to be:

To do more of what I love. (Let’s start with writing.)

To live more mindfully and enjoy the ‘now.’

To live more vulnerably.

To become more intimate with people.

To be more loving and compassionate.

To appreciate and participate in the power of community.

I’m not saying I’m healed or won’t fail again and fall back on chasing numbers and status. By being brave and consistent in all of the above, I’m replacing despair with hope.

When I accept that changing my identity is the biggest fight of my life, that means I’ll reclaim the power within me and bring back my dignity.

It means I’m giving myself permission to live the life I want first and foremost, accepting that it will be messy and that I won’t always feel good.

I will stop waiting for anything or anyone and instead start today with small actions, staying with them long enough so that my new behaviour becomes embedded within me.

That’s when the magic happens.

That’s when I’d feel life pulsing through my veins.

Perhaps it won’t satisfy the naysayers or be exactly Rumi-esque, but it will be the life that wants to live in me.