line in the sand

It’s been 1 year since I smoked my last cigarette.*

Up until June 26th of last year, I did not think this was possible.
But it was. Through a strenuous mental effort, it turned out that it was. (And some acupuncture and hypnosis and a whole lot of wine.)

And holy shit, I am so, so grateful.

Let’s be real. I’ve packed on some pounds as a result. I’ve gotten some gray hairs as I was forced to process stressful shit instead of smoking it away. I’ve gotten some extra wrinkles as my face released its formaldehyde stores.

But every time I take a deep breath of fresh, cool, calming air, I am so, eternally, grateful that I was able to win this battle (for the moment).

It’s a pretty decent metaphor for the entire past year. (Surprise surprise.)

25 was a year for inwardness. Seeming physical stagnation (or sometimes decline) on the surface, but huge internal activity and growth.

This has been the year that I learned that I have a say about what happens in my mind.

Whereas until now, I’ve always thought my mental state to be at the mercy of my brain and circumstances, this year I learned that I can have some impact on it. I’m not saying I’ve learned to control my mind. But I’ve learned that I can. And that, to me, is huge. Beyond huge. It’s game-changing.

I now know that I’m at the beginning of a long learning process, and I’m so excited for what’s to come. I hope that the next year I will be able to slowly build this newfound feeing of mental control outward – first from the mental to the physical body, and then to the things that happen “to me” which I’ve until now have also very much felt to be at the hands of “fate”.

I can’t control everything that happens to me. But I can control a) the way I perceive it b) what I do in response and c) the situations I put myself in thereafter to try to prevent or perpetuate the same kind of experience.

Building outward. Mental. Mental to physical. Physical to creative. That’s 26. (I hope.)

*(And my birthday is in 13 days.)

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on transience and the meaning of life (or lack thereof): waking up by sam harris

Is it possible to be happy before anything happens, before one’s desires are gratified, in spite of life’s difficulties, in the very midst of physical pain, old age, disease and death?

I’m fairly new to the meditation game, but in the short few months that I’ve been doing it I’ve been astonished by its effects. However, I tend to keep this fairly quiet, and dodge any and all questions about “what kind of meditation?” / “how do you do it?” / “don’t you go crazy” etc. People tend to either want to talk about vipassana vs kundalini vs Dzogchen, or they want to talk about how meditation makes them go crazy and they hate it, but I don’t really want to have either discussion. To me, meditation is an extremely personal thing – both in the sense that it is a private matter and in that it’s unique to every individual.

That’s why I loved Waking Up by Sam Harris. The subtitle is “A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion”, which captures exactly how I see the practice. It’s a form of spirituality that has nothing to do with angels or heavenly fathers. It’s (as Neil Strauss puts it) a way of figuring out how you personally are connected to the world around you.

The book was not at all what I expected. I thought it would be an exploration of various approaches to spirituality, but instead Harris quickly stripped away the legitimacy of any other option for spirituality except meditation. Waking Up is actually a scientific treatise on the purpose of meditation.

Until I read it, I didn’t know that I didn’t know the purpose of meditation. Surely, I thought, it must just be to be calm and peaceful. I was never that interested in the Buddhist ideas of ‘enlightenment’.

But Harris makes a pretty compelling case, backed by neuroscience and (strong) psychology, that the purpose of meditation is to dispel the illusion of the self and realise what it’s like to exist in pure consciousness.

In my view, the realistic goal to be attained through spiritual practice is not some permanent state of enlightenment that admits no further efforts but a capacity to be free in this moment, in the midst of whatever is happening. If you can do that, you have already solved most of the problems you will encounter in life.

This feels realistic to me. This feels true. This feels much more correct than any Buddhist spiel about “forever freeing yourself of all suffering through the practice of non-attachment”. I mean, that may be exactly what it is but the way the Buddhists teach it is nevertheless disturbingly dogmatic. The way Harris writes it just makes total, perfect sense.

So what would a spiritual master be a master of? At minimum, she will no longer … feel identical to her thoughts. … She would no longer succumb to the primary confusion that thoughts produce in most of us: She would no longer feel that there is an inner self who is a thinker of these thoughts. Such a person will naturally maintain an openness and serenity of mind that is available to most of us only for brief moments, even after years of practice.

I’ll admit, it’s difficult to imagine what Harris is talking about, even after a few months of meditation practice and after having read his very convincing, scarily rational book that logically dispels the illusion of the self. But the point is that the book sets the path: it has indicated to me how and where to look. And I’m immensely looking forward to the journey.

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There’s a lot of pain in the world today.

I didn’t intend to spend the day reading about the various awful shit happening in people’s lives.

But I just finished Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking, and by the time I finished it, her raw openness meant that I felt like I intimately knew, and loved, her friend Anthony who was dying.

So I visited her blog this morning. I didn’t find any up-to-date information about Anthony. But I found a post detailing a bunch of people she knew who died in a short period of time. Then I went to her Twitter page. Anthony is on his deathbed. Her husband wrote a beautiful blog post about it. I read that too.

Then a friend of mine posted a gut-wrenching story about her break-up on Facebook. I read it. I stopped to offer kind words and virtual pats on the head.

I haven’t been able to focus on work at all today, wrecked by the weight of all of this pain. Even though things worse than this, closer to home, have happened and are happening every day. Somehow today is the day that my mind is tuned to ‘pain’.

It never fails to amaze me how the brain can latch onto something and make that something the theme for your whole day – or longer. It’s like the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon but for types of occurrences.

My brain is on the frequency of other people’s pain, and it makes my heart hurt, and my stomach hurt, and somehow makes me want to curl myself up in a ball and shut everything out, and at the same time reach out to everyone I know in a desperate, grasping attempt to pull myself back into the world of the living. ‘I am still here. I am alive. Other people are alive, and can talk to me about something other than pain. There is happiness out there.’

I’m thankful for smartphones today so I can both curl and text at the same time.

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a little bit of prague

At the beginning of the year I set myself the goal to travel once per month this year. It’s actually been working so far, even though around March I realized that it costs a lot of money to do monthly trips (since I tend to plan everything at the last minute) and that actually it’s not what I’d rather spend my money on at the moment as I’m in a saving mode. But anyway, I did manage to do a few and they were quite lovely. So here are some impressions from my solo trip to Prague, in February!

A note: It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone reading this blog that I love to, and often prefer to, travel alone. I’m an “independent spirit”, aka I’m stubborn and don’t love to compromise. I’m obviously capable of being easygoing and enjoying traveling with others, but I tend to have more fun when I don’t have to worry about someone else’s satisfaction on the trip as well as my own, so there are only very few people that I can travel with 100% comfortably – because their interests overlap closely with my own.

On to Prague!


This is probably one of the top 10 traveler statements in the English language but: Prague is so beautiful. I spent a large portion of time wandering around just looking at it.




On Friday night I saw an incredible, jazzy, bluesy, folksy band with a beautiful powerhouse female lead that I found on couchsurfing called Yo Soy Indigo. Highly recommended!!

(Seriously, listen to at least two minutes of this. She really sounds like this. This was in a smoky bar. I’m somewhere in that crowd :D)

On Saturday night I went to a Couchsurfing meetup, which was unfortunately full of quite socially awkward people. Those things are very hit and miss, and at least it was a cool dive bar with cheap drinks, and I did manage to meet a few gems.

I went to the Charles Bridge, but even on a random, cold February weekend it was packed to the brim with tourists, so it wasn’t as charming as it could have been.


I have a bit of an obsession with climbing things on holiday (stairs, hills) so I did both in Prague and climbed up to the castle on my first day:


And up the big hill / “park” on the second day:


Followed by some more staring and wandering to round out the trip.


P.S. I’ve just launched an English Literature newsletter! I talk about my favourite classic books and why they’re great. Subscribe here if you’re into that.

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sonos politics

It’s amazing how even with the free-flowing booze, lax dress code and an overabundance of MacBooks, an advertising agency can start to feel like The Office when those little niggly papercut annoyances build up day after day.

When my agency moved into a big, bright, fancy designer office, someone thought it was a great idea to install Sonos speakers in each “zone”, with a master playlist for each and modifiable by all.

Honestly. Sometimes I would rather deathly silence than this tyranny.

“They” somehow failed to realise that having your ears assaulted by Meghan Trainor, gangster rap or the fucking Ghostbusters theme song when you’re trying to pick through the finer details of a chart buried in a 100-page consumer report deck is… grating. To say the least.

The irony of this highly democratic system though is that although we all have access to the system, once someone has a playlist going, we’re not allowed to change it! Because how annoying would it be to put on a playlist only to have it gleefully deleted by someone and replaced by music that you find offensive? (Let’s just say I’ve had this happen to me, and I’m still undecided on whether to forgive that person.)

There’s a set of unspoken rules that appear to govern the Sonos system:

/ Do not change the music in any other zone than yours (this is punishable by yelling and ridicule).
/ Only change the music once a considerable amount of time has passed on the current playlist, i.e. minimum 30 minutes.
/ Changing the volume is allowed, though sometimes it can become a bit of a game of cat and mouse.
/ Putting on headphones to drown out the unbearable noise is permissible, but doing so in an exaggerated, exasperated way that reveals your annoyance is ill-advised.

Sonos politics! It’s a thing.

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how to be nice to a runner

If you feel like spreading some cheer and goodwill this holiday season, here’s an easy one – be nice to a runner.

Look. Running in the winter fucking sucks. It would be amazing if the people we passed on the street didn’t make it worse.

Whenever I’m running past people on the sidewalk, I can always tell if they’re fellow runners, or if they’ve never set running shoe to pavement in their lives. Luckily, I’m easy to trick. Here’s how:

1. If you see or hear one coming, get out of the way. Easy! Right? But – just for clarity’s sake – let me expand. If you are walking arm-in-arm with someone and taking up the sidewalk, move over (i.e. don’t force me to go into traffic to avoid you). If you are walking in a group of four and taking up the whole sidewalk, be the one to move out of the way, falling behind your group for two seconds (i.e. don’t make me come to a full stop while someone finally, grudgingly breaks the chain and makes me squeeze past them). If you are by yourself, and in the middle of the sidewalk, move to the right or left! I’m not picky. If your bike is blocking the whole sidewalk, move it. See? It is simple. It always amazes me how often people seem to forget to do this.

2. If you’re a smoker, that’s cool, but can you resist blowing out right as I run past you please. It’s fine – I was a smoker slash runner for years. I promise I am not judging you. But I also know it’s not absolutely crucial for you to exhale right as I run past – and certainly not right in my direction. If it’s unavoidable and you must blow out smoke – just turn your head to a different side than where I am passing you. Again. Simple!!!

3. If you’re driving up to a zebra crossing and you see a runner coming, for fuck’s sake, stop. This one is a huge problem in Amsterdam/Holland in general (not just for runners), but for some reason even in Vancouver I experienced a strange reluctance on behalf of drivers to stop for runners – even more so than pedestrians. I don’t really get it. For the record, we don’t like stopping abruptly while a car whizzes past us. I’ve injured myself this way more than once.

4. Bonus: If you see us in distress, offer help. Ok this one requires interaction. But it’s also important. Sometimes, especially in the winter, runners slip, fall, get splashed by icy water, nearly get hit by cars, etc. If you see that you can help… don’t just walk by.

See how easy it is to be a better pedestrian? Happy holidays everybody ;-)

P.S. I intend to uncouple this blog from my Facebook page after this post. If you want to continue reading it, either remember the URL or press the “follow” button (should be somewhere on this page). Thanks!

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I used to be, like many of us, in a virtual community which was the closest approximation I’ve ever known of what a functional social circle is actually supposed to look like.

When it was at the height of its activity (say… 2006?) we would have posts every few days titled, Am I being irrational? Someone would post about a situation that was bothering them, usually to do with a significant other or a friendship triangle of some sort, and the rest of us would chime in with yes/no, advice, and our own questions of a similar nature.

I wish often that I could go back to that near-anonymity of that format. Writing out something that is so sensational to you in a scan-friendly format to a bunch of strangers who have never met you or the other people in question is an exercise in processing as well as in writing, and the knowledge that people are going to be relatively kind but nonetheless brutally honest is sobering. Often I would start to write, realize the answer was yes, and close the window.

These days if I want to ask that question, I am left to rely mostly on myself.

And I am pretty damn biased.

But it’s not pure selfishness. I am simply scared – mostly of letting myself be treated unfairly like I spent all of my high school years doing.

I feel that I would rather be unreasonable than be lied to.
I would rather be unreasonable than unprepared.
I would rather be unreasonable than hurt.

Basically, I am on the defensive. Every second of every day.

And in the end this boils down to, I would rather be alone and miserable because at least I know what awaits me in those waters.

And that’s when I need to bend the ear of a perfect stranger. Isn’t it strange that with the internet being exponentially larger every second of every day, this is becoming an almost impossible thing to find?

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