Kunal Gupta's Blog, page 7

How to French

“Are you done with your phone?”

It was the first thing the waiter at a casual deli said to me as I had sat down for breakfast. It caught me off guard.

My location was at a cliff side touristic town in the South of France, overlooking the beautiful blue sea on a hot sunny day. 

Whereas I had woken up feeling full of energy and excited to explore, connect and relax for the day ahead, my mood had shifted after hearing those six words from a stranger. 

“Are you done with your phone?”

I started to notice my energy drop. My excitement fade. I became more self conscious and felt less comfortable. Perhaps even a little less safe, emotionally. 

Then the person I was with reflected back to me how quickly my energy shifted and checked in with me. 

That helped me snap out of it. Almost instantly.

I began to wonder how such an innocent, harmless, irrelevant question could impact me so easily. As someone who likes to feel in control, that moment made me realize how little control I actually have. I didn’t like it. 

Instead of passing a judgment that the waiter was rude, or drawing on a stereotype about the French, I instead started to become curious about why the waiter acted in a certain way. 

Realizing pretty quickly that I didn’t have enough context or information about the waiter to build a story that would justify in my mind his action, I had to be satisfied with the only thing I could come up with. “There must be a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with me”. 

Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. Maybe he had some difficult circumstances he was working through in his home life. Maybe he was raised or conditioned to believe that it was normal to act this way. 

The point is that I don’t know exactly why, and don’t need to, but know that there is a reason. And that reason likely has nothing to do with me. 

I had been taking the interaction personally when in fact it wasn’t. 

One of my spiritual teachers, Anthony De Mello, says in his writings, “what others think of you says more about them then it does about you”. 

While I have read this line many times, and understood this intellectually, this experience helped me feel it. 

I am not as important as I think I am. And definitely not as important to other people who are not in my daily life. The problem becomes when I conflate the world with my world. When my perspective of the world becomes so small, so tiny actually, that everything becomes about me and my experience of the world. 

In reflecting on this out loud over breakfast, my energy shifted and I began to feel compassion for the waiter. I went from feeling agitation to feeling compassion, without anything or anyone outside of me having to change one bit. 

Compassion requires me to see something from multiple perspectives. Not only the perspective that is convenient to me.  Not only the perspective that is beneficial to me. Not only the perspective that is aligned with my values and beliefs. 

When I stop at simply passing judgment that “that is good”, “this is bad” or “I don’t like this”, then I am being intellectually lazy. Instead of passing judgment and moving on, if instead I pause for a moment and become curious to understand the why behind the action that I may like or dislike, my initial judgment turns into compassion for the person or circumstance in question. 

Understanding is more important than agreement. 

Conflict occurs, be it in the world, my world or in my mind, trying to get to agreement. However it is unlikely that I will ever agree with everything and everyone I come across. And every time I disagree with something, it is a form of conflict. Be it expressed or repressed, there is still some friction I am experiencing energetically with my environment. And over a lifetime of friction with my environment, the toll adds up. 

However, understanding is something that is in my control. It is on me to choose to be curious and open to understanding this thing or person in my current environment or experience of life that I may not agree with.

With this newfound appreciation that behind every action or choice I witness or experience, there is a reason behind it. I feel an ease and calm, and can glide through life with a bit more grace and a bit less friction. 

And that is how I learned to glide. 

How to Time

“Is your time yours?” has become my opening question when meeting new people.

It makes people pause. It's not an easy question to answer off the cuff. Unlike the normal “how are you?”, “what do you do?”, “where are you vacationing this summer?”, or even “what’s inspiring you these days?” questions that often are asked, asking someone if their time is theirs is a mind bender.

Yet at the same time, very revealing.

Four words that magically cause one to lift themselves out of their own day-to-day busyness and patterns, and force themselves to see their own reality as it is. Instantly.

I’ve seen people’s expressions change immediately, most often faces get filled with confusion. A mild deer-in-the-headlights moment for some, as they’ve just stumbled accidentally across something that’s really important.

I know the feeling as I have experienced it many times. It is a feeling of realizing I have lost my way, without knowing that I was lost to begin with. Furthermore, I thought I was on my way and these four words made me realize I am not.

Somewhere along the way, the relationship with time changed, and it seems not for the better.

I imagine one hundred years ago, those who had greater education, greater economic means, regardless of how it was obtained, by one's own merit, or passed down from others, or even through immoral activities, were the ones who felt that their time was theirs. They would spend it on travel, on leisure, on entertainment, and on loved ones.

Fast forward to a modern society, those who ‘have it all’ also seem to no longer have their time. It is constantly rented out, be it to work commitments, social communities, health routines, or scrolling through feeds.

One of my favorite books in the past few years is called Four Thousand Weeks. The author, Oliver Burkeman, challenged me to rethink my relationship with time. Instead of seeing time as a commodity or resource that I’m trying to abstract the most amount of value from, by doing more, and constantly trying to be productive, I have been inspired by thinking of time as something different. Completely different.

The perspective encouraged me to see time not as something to be controlled or managed, but as something to be experienced. This shift in mindset has been transformative for me. It’s like transitioning from trying to trap water in my hands to simply allowing myself to swim in it.

When I used to think about time, it was always in the context of scarcity. There was never enough of it. Days filled with back-to-back meetings, endless to-do lists, and the nagging guilt of things left undone. I was perpetually chasing after a sense of accomplishment that seemed to evaporate as quickly as it materialized. It was exhausting.

But what if, instead of constantly trying to maximize every minute, I allowed myself to be present in the moment? What if I shifted my focus from doing more to being more?

One practice that has helped me immensely is mindfulness. It's not just another thing for me to do, but a genuine practice that I incorporate into my daily life. Whether it's through meditation, a quiet walk in nature, or simply paying attention to my breath, mindfulness has allowed me to reclaim my time by being fully present in the now.

I also began to prioritize what truly matters to me. It's easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle, but taking even a minute to step back and ask myself how I want to spend my time has been liberating. I've learned to say no to things and people that don't feel aligned, and yes to those that do.

It’s about quality over quantity. Spending an hour deeply engaged in a meaningful conversation with a friend can be far more fulfilling than a whole day of superficial interactions. I used to host hundred person parties often in Lisbon, and now I am realizing having dinner with one or two people is far more interesting to me. Investing time in activities that nourish my soul has become a priority.

One of the most profound realizations I've had is that time is not something that can be owned or possessed. It's a gift, and how I choose to spend it defines my life. It's not about having control over it, but rather about dancing with it, embracing the ebb and flow of experiences.

The irony is that by letting go of the need to control my time, I’ve actually found a greater sense of freedom and control. Time feels more abundant because I’m no longer trying to squeeze every last drop out of it. It's about finding harmony between doing and being, between ambition and contentment.

In asking others, “Is your time yours?”, I hope to spark a needed moment of introspection. To encourage those around me to pause and reflect on their own relationship with time. Because in the end, how we spend our time is how we live our lives. And I want to live mine fully, deeply, and authentically.

And that is how I learned to time.

How to Lion King

The scene comes maybe two thirds into the story.

Simba, the young cub, is not so young anymore. He has left the kingdom and is living with Timone and Pumba in the jungle, wandering aimlessly in the jungle and enjoying the freedom from the trauma of what happened back in the day when his father, Mufasa, had died.

The unexpected run-in with Nala, his childhood friend who, like him, is no longer a child, causes him to question if he is still on the right path in life. She strongly encourages him to come back to the kingdom, which is falling apart with his uncle Scar now in charge, and take his rightful place as heir to the throne.

His immediate impulse is to reject the idea. He no longer identifies with his original destiny. Yet something deep inside him is torn and not fully at peace. 

Rafiki, who can be best described as a mythical figure there to help guide things along when the are not on track, appears at the exact moment when Simba was ready to give up. Rafiki provokes Simba and Simba responds angrily, but honestly, by saying “I don’t know who I am”.

The truth about how he has been feeling comes out, finally.

Simba is directed by Rafiki to look into a nearby body of water and sees his reflection. Or what he believes to be his reflection at first, and then sees his father. And begins to hear his father speaking to him.

Confused, yet curious, he continues to stare intensely at this visualization and begins to find answers to his question. He sees his father. He sees his mother. He sees all of the animals in the kingdom. He sees the landscapes. He sees the starry sky. He sees it all. And realizes that all of it is part of who he is. All of it has shaped who he is.

And then it becomes clear to him that he must return and take his place as king, and help restore the kingdom for the betterment of all. 

As I sat there, in a London theater watching human actors play the role of animals dressed in elaborate costumes, I quietly took in this momentous scene that is the turning point of the whole story. It triggered a thought in me, or rather a question, about my own identity and purpose.

I had been in London this past week, for the first time this year, after traveling the world and taking a six month sabbatical. The familiarity of the city spoke to me, yet at the same time, didn’t. That’s the beautiful thing about landmarks. As they don’t change, they allow me to see how I have changed.

Like the main character in the musical I was enjoying, I too realized how my identity has been shaped by the many people, places and projects that have occupied my life. My parents. My sister and her family. My friends. My businesses. My teams. My clients. My cities. My homes. My adventures. Even if I do not have all of it at this moment within my grip, I do within my spirit. It doesn’t take more than a split second to recall memories of specific emotions and experiences that I appreciate, that I regret, and that I cherish.

In those moments when I feel provoked to answer the question ‘who am I?’, I turn inwards to remember the people, places and projects that I have journeyed with and through, and start to feel grounded and clear once again in my identity.

As the final scenes unfolded in the musical, I found myself reflecting on Simba’s journey back to the Pride Lands. It’s a journey of reclaiming one’s identity and purpose, confronting deep-seated fears, and embracing responsibility, no matter how uncomfortable. 

I often face similar crossroads in my life. Moments where I must choose between the path of least resistance and the one that demands courage and self-awareness. Simba’s transformation wasn’t just about returning to a place; it was about accepting who he truly was and the role he was destined to play.

This resonates deeply with my own experience. When I decided to take my sabbatical, it was more than just a break from the routine. It was an opportunity to reflect on my own path, to question if I was still aligned with my true self. Traveling through different countries, cultures and communities, I was often faced with the unfamiliar, much like Simba in the jungle. Yet, in every new experience, there was a thread that connected back to my core identity, reminding me of who I am and what is important to me.

Sitting in that theater, I realized that much like Simba, I also have a ‘Scar’ in my life, represented as challenges that question my sense of self-worth and direction. The key has been in recognizing these scars not as deterrents but as catalysts for my own growth. They test my resilience and push me towards self-discovery and a feeling of empowerment. Rafiki’s wisdom in the story echoes the mentors and guides in my own life who help me see what I may be unable to see.

As the final curtain fell and the audience erupted in applause, I felt a profound sense of clarity. And relief.

For me, The Lion King isn’t just a story about a lion reclaiming his throne. It’s an inspirational tale about the journey of finding my place in the world, amidst chaos, doubt and uncertainty. It reminded me that no matter where I go or what I face, my true identity is a culmination of all my experiences, connections, and choices. It’s about embracing my past, living in the present, and being open to the future. 

And that is how I learned how to Lion King.

How to Be Annoyed

Six months ago, I was overwhelmed by a constant sense of annoyance living in Portugal. Every little thing seemed to get under my skin

The traffic was a nightmare. Every trip felt like an obstacle course of gridlocks and erratic drivers, that made no sense whatsoever. Randomness is the only description I can give.

Trying to make a simple bank transfer internationally was a task on its own. Mistake after mistake meant that the funds never could get to the desired destination. And my local bank seemed to block any and all online purchases for no apparent reason.

Online deliveries never arrived on time and I noticed myself becoming more sarcastic, playing a guessing game in my head. What was supposed to be a two-day delivery often turned into a week-long wait. And not so often I would find out weeks later that it was returned because of some innocent issue, without any notification.

Tradesmen were unreliable, often missing appointments or doing subpar work that required to be redone…at least twice. My confidence in others to get stuff done well was hitting close to rock bottom.

The mold and poor construction quality in my rental properties became the final straw. It felt like everything was crumbling around me, both literally and figuratively.

Delays and surprises became part of my daily routine, adding daily to my growing annoyance.

My annoyance had reached an unsustainable level. My mind was constantly agitated, and my emotional state was on edge. I was constantly feeling triggered by the slightest of surprise or inconvenience

Desperate for a break, I boarded a plane on a day’s notice to London. From there, I traveled to Paris, then Toronto, and finally settled in Sydney. I spent most of the first part of this year on a sabbatical by the beach, far from the chaos that had consumed my mind in Portugal.

Last week, I returned to Portugal to begin my next chapter.

It felt as if time had stood still. 

Everything looked the same. The familiar faces at the local grocery store, my favorite cafe, and the building security office greeted me just as they had before. The plants and furniture in my apartment were arranged exactly as I had left them, despite many family and friends having stayed in my place while I had been away.

Yet, something was different. I had changed.

What used to annoy me now seemed trivial. 

The traffic, delayed deliveries, and unreliable tradesmen hadn’t changed. The challenges with banking and credit card issues are still here. But my perspective has shifted. Taking a break and stepping away from what I believe was the source of my annoyance helped give me a new perspective. 

The other day, I went to a small local bakery that I had always avoided because of the long wait times. This time, I decided to give it a try. Standing in line, I watched the baker expertly shape each loaf, his hands moving with a rhythm that came from years of practice. As I finally reached the counter, the warm, fresh bread handed to me felt like a gift. The long wait no longer seemed like an annoyance but a part of the experience, adding value to the delicious bread I was about to enjoy.

Another time, I found myself stuck in traffic on my way to meet a friend. Instead of seething with frustration, I turned on my favorite playlist and let the music wash over me. I rolled down the windows, taking in the warm breeze and the vibrant city life around me. What used to be a source of annoyance had become an unexpected moment of peace and fun.

I also remembered the handyman who had once missed three appointments in a row. This time, when he arrived late again, instead of feeling annoyed, I greeted him with a smile and a cup of coffee. We ended up chatting about his life and I got to practice my Portuguese again. It was a small interaction, but one that connected me with a greater sense of empathy.

Visiting a local market that I used to find chaotic and overwhelming, I now saw it through new eyes. The hustle and bustle, the lively banter between vendors and customers, the colorful array of fresh produce—all of it felt vibrant and full of life. I took the time to engage with the vendors, asking about their products and learning their stories. What was once a stressful environment had transformed into a rich, sensory experience.

I have begun to appreciate the little things I had taken for granted—the warmth of the sun, the friendly smiles of strangers, the views of the waves. Time away had allowed me to reset and reflect. I realized that my frustration wasn’t because of Portugal. It was because of my mindset.

Expectations and frustrations had clouded my experience and perception.

Now, I hope to approach life in Portugal & beyond with more patience and acceptance. I aim to embrace perceived imperfections and find joy in the little moments. What once annoyed me now serves as an opportunity to practice patience and gratitude.

Real change starts from within. The external world doesn’t have to change for me to feel differently. My perspective and mindset is what truly matters.

By changing my perspective, I changed my experience.

And that is how I learned to be annoyed.

How to Portrait Mode

Walking the streets of Lisbon recently, a family of tourists asked me to take their photo in front of one of the many city lookout points.

“Can you take it in portrait mode?” the dad added as he handed me their phone. I took their photos and they were very appreciative.

What I found ironic though was that by being in portrait mode, the beautiful city landscape became blurry. What was now in focus was the family.

This is representative of how I often move through daily life. In portrait mode. The focus is always, almost exclusively, on me.

In the face of some thing, some person, some place, or some activity, the first question that I ask myself is ‘what am I going to get from this?’.

The lens from which I evaluate whether something is worthwhile or not is based on the value that I may derive or abstract from it.

This way of thinking keeps my mental and emotional energy focused on me, often to the exclusion of the environment in which I’m operating. I am looking out for…me. And if there is any capacity left, then maybe those close to me or those that I feel responsible for.

If instead I asked the question ‘what am I ready to give to this?’, my energy completely shifts. The focus is not on me, but rather on some thing, some place, some person, or some activity, outside of me. 

The moment I begin to think beyond myself, I am now connected to something bigger than me. I start to feel smaller, in the best possible way, as my problems also start to feel smaller. 

It is a reason I believe being in nature is so therapeutic and peaceful. Staring out at the ocean, looking at tall mountains or over vast fields and forests, the horizon and landscape becomes so wide, beyond my eyes can see, that it feels endless. It is endless.

When I start to pay attention to what’s happening around me, I naturally start to calibrate my experience in relation to some reality that I am now taking in. Otherwise, I will calibrate my experience in relation to some fantasy that I have built in my mind.

The process of asking ‘what’s in it for me’ is the process of building up expectations in my mind. And as my father would always tell my sister and I growing up, expectations and disappointment are linked together. The Gita, the spiritual text from yoga philosophy, teaches us to be attached to the effort and not the outcome. In other words, the cliche journey versus destination.

Flipping the unconscious question of ‘what’s in it for me?’ on its head to ‘what am I ready to give?’ is the practice of me learning to focus on the effort I put in, versus the results I receive.

For example, when I started to meditate, I never asked myself what am I going to get from it. I did ask myself ‘what am I ready to give to it’, and the answer was to commit a few minutes each day. And ten years later, that has continued.

Another example, taking a new job. If the lens is purely ‘what am I going to get from it?’, I don’t think one will actually feel very satisfied as there is always going to be some feeling of disappointment, which then turns into discouragement and leads to a lack of effort. If instead the focus is on ‘what am I going to give to it?’, that turns into effort, and that effort will take care of the results itself.

Or another example, starting or continuing a relationship, be it with a friend or romantic interest. If both people are focused on ‘what am I getting from this?’, the connection won’t go very far, for either person. Rather when the focus is on ‘what can I give this person?’, and to do it without expectation, the connection will feel rewarding and satisfying for both people. It is satisfying to give and it is satisfying to receive. Regardless of which role one is in at a given moment, it will be satisfying, provided the giving is without expectations.

And this is a key point. When the mindset shifts from getting to giving, it must be without added expectations. Giving with expectations of getting is not giving. It is another form of getting, in a roundabout way.

This understanding inspires me to turn off portrait mode and move through life in relation to my reality, versus to the exclusion of it.

And that is how I learned to (un)portrait mode.

How to Cry

One minute he would be in tears and the next he would be laughing and playing with his toy cars. I didn’t get how he rebounds so quickly. No one else I know does it like he does.

In the past few weeks, I’ve gotten to spend a lot of time with my three year old nephew, while in Canada with my family. He is one of my favorite people, and I am amazed by how entertaining everything is to him. The way he wants to show me everything, from his latest toy red car, to the food that is currently in his mouth, or to the empty Amazon envelope he found and is fascinated by.

Not only was everything fascinating - but every emotion was heightened. He could break out into a burst of laughter or tears in a small instance. From falling off his chair at the dinner table, to stubbing his toe on the kitchen island, to getting his finger stuck in the bedroom door he was slamming, to simply just because. The tears would come when things bothered him physically, emotionally, and maybe even spiritually. 

He would very quickly express and release whatever emotion was triggered. And then recover so quickly

It got me thinking about how I can release and express emotions more.

As adults, we rarely cry as a way to release and express emotion. We have become attune to the societal norms of always having to be ‘good’ or ‘great’. How often do you just respond “Im good” to the question “how are you “, instead of taking a moment to think and be genuine in your answer 

Society has trained us to associate crying and sudden outbursts of emotion with weakness.
This belief that crying is a sign of weakness is reinforced by social norms, social media, and many other facets of adult life. Suppressing our emotions is not a sign of strength, it is a sign of weakness. It is convenient. 

The truth is that we as adults do experience emotions just as heightened as my 3 year old nephew, but we train ourselves not to express them. The reality is that we are highly emotional beings - but at some stage in the 6-10 age bracket, we decide (or society teaches us) that we should not longer give those emotions space or make them visible.

It takes courage to first acknowledge that to be human is to experience emotion. It takes more courage to allow ourselves to express emotion in its entirety and regularly.

Suppressing emotion and sadness not only means that we aren’t fully expressing ourselves, but that we are not releasing our feelings and allowing for the growth to happen. 

Mother nature shows this to us frequently. Even though I often wish for sunshine all year round (which is why I visited Australia earlier this year), I know that without the rain the heat gets exhausting, and nature becomes withered and no longer lush. Nature in all its beauty, can't existing without the rain 

Similarly, if we suppress our ‘rain’, we become out of balance and increasingly numb to emotion. Emotions & feeling is core to what makes us human. 

Like rain, I have discovered that crying is required in life.

I have gone through periods where I cry everyday, and others when I don't cry for weeks at a time. I have felt a block around crying for the last few months, and I can feel the cumulative effects from the lack of tears

Crying gives me access to the full beauty and experience of life, and it is what leads to growth. When I don’t  let myself cry often, I am in a desert. Most things die in a desert.

When I cry, I know I have felt something. When I cry, I know I have I am alive

And that is how I learned to cry.

How to Family

A seed was humbly planted at the start of the year and what grew from it surpassed any expectations I may have had.

Fifty family members, traveling from all around the world, together for an extended weekend to reunite across generations and geographies.

We rented a venue and were together, under one roof, for the four day reunion. T Shirts were made with a family emblem, that was hand drawn and designed by one of the younger family members, inaugurated at this gathering. A videographer was hired for the entire weekend, not knowing what exactly he would be capturing, but knowing it would be worthy of capturing. A chef was hired to cook on-site for the group, including the no less than twelve family members who had dietary allergies that needed to be catered for.

Baby photos were printed of all fifty family members participating in the reunion. Hanging on the wall, the black and white prints were numbered and we were asked to guess who’s who. I expected the older relatives, especially those who I’ve heard say for years ‘I was there when you were born’ would be able to guess every photo. I was wrong. They struggled with a few, including a moment of comedy when a father didn’t recognize his own daughter’s baby photo.

A time capsule became a joint project. Photos were printed, from before I was born to ones of the reunion. Craft paper and felt tip pens were handed out and everyone wrote cards and letters, to their future selves and our family in the future. It was decided we would open the time capsule ten years from now in 2034.

The highlight was skits. Prompts were written down by hand on scraps of paper, thrown into a bag, and groups of five to six people picked a prompt and were given a few minutes to develop and then act out a scene. They were so bad that we could not stop laughing. 

It occurred to me while watching my family members act out in made up scenes in front of an audience of fifty, so casually and calmly, that we all really did feel secure and safe in this space. It can be vulnerable, to speak let alone act, in front of a group this large. Everyone did it with a smile and it seemed like, without breaking a sweat.

In the in-between moments, the family opted for playing cards, sitting and chatting, and of course, eating. The dining area seemed always full of people, with snacks in between meals and the food running out everytime. The chef had no idea how my family uses food as a source of connection, entertainment and activity.

Throughout the weekend, I found myself in 1-1 conversations with family members I don’t get to see or interact with regularly. With the familiarity of family, we would go deep really fast and I got to tap into people’s experiences on a variety of topics. Be it investing in the stock market, raising kids, charity work and more. I appreciated the bank of knowledge available to me unfiltered and unfettered. It has always been a real asset that I have come to rely on regularly.

For the last evening, we all dressed up. The toddlers in cute frocks and bowties, the women in dresses and the men in shirts and blazers. The sun started to shine through the clouds just as we stepped onto the terrace to take family photos. It took nearly one hour to capture the combinations of family, based on relation, location, generation and more. And of course, everyone became an overnight director, which was fun to watch and maybe less fun for our photographer.

Later that evening, gag awards were given out, highlighting the memorable moments and inside jokes that made the reunion so special and fun. Followed by a full-on dance party, with everyone participating, regardless of age or ability. It was a magical moment to experience, in an environment that feels so safe and one where we all feel special.

On the last morning, we gathered blurry eyed after a late night, for one final group picture. As everyone said bye, I became teary eyed as I felt how special this experience was for me. This group of people have shaped me, in ways I’m both aware of and will never be aware of. I am who I am, how I am, for better or worse, thanks to this family that I grew up in. 

As we grow older, people move around the world, it becomes harder to feel connected to each other. It was grounding to feel connected to my roots, in such a loving and caring way. I feel so grateful for my family and these experiences remind me of how special this connection is in my life. 

And that is how I learned to family.

How to Finance

Over a tea with a longtime friend last week, it occurred to me that she had no idea about how to think about her own finances from a planning, savings and investing perspective. 

“Didn’t you learn this growing up?” I interrupted her and asked her. 

“No!” was her immediate response, starting to acknowledge now into her forties the missed opportunities because of her lack of financial literacy. 

It is not something she learned at home or at school. Despite being intelligent, ambitious and motivated in life, which has shown up in her career, family and health, this has been a blindspot for her. 

I also realized that despite us knowing each other for decades and seeing each other move through different life phases, we had never actually talked about this topic. And if her friends, family and teachers didn’t raise it, where was she supposed to learn how to finance?

To contrast that experience, a few weeks ago I was invited to a retreat in Southern Europe alongside a range of entrepreneurs and investors. I hit it off with one of the other participants, as we were sharing our respective upbringings and how we learned, and didn’t learn, about how to finance. 

In her case, she grew up being encouraged to learn how to invest. Coming from a business family, her parents, grandparents and great grandparents were all in business and from the age of six she remembers being included in a monthly “meeting” where the finances of the family were discussed. 

A substantial portion of her allowance money each month was placed in an investment account and she was given the freedom to choose her own stocks. And more importantly, encouraged to track them. 

As a teenager, she invested in companies like Disney and Apple, because she liked and used their products. As an adult, she started to develop her own values around the environment and encouraged her siblings to not invest in any oil companies.

As she continued to share with me her upbringing, I was inspired by the foresight of her family to bring her up in this way. 

I come from a business family as well. My parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins all are doing some form of business. Regardless if they are successful or satisfied, they are all in business, and as a result, I have learned a thing or two about finance despite never having studied it formally. 

It took me more than a decade as an adult to develop my own approach and philosophy about how to finance, borrowing from them what I admired and leaving behind what I did not agree with. And as I’ve stepped into my own approach and framework, I have discovered how personal something about dollars and cents truly is. 

Finance is a personal and subjective set of choices. 

Despite the endless amount of advice and knowledge available to any of us, finance is really a representation of one’s values. And to know how to finance requires to know one self. 

How comfortable am I with risk?

What are my expectations of reward?

How comfortable am I with volatility?

What financial traumas did my family experience that have unconsciously influenced me?

Who do I look to for input that I actually trust and listen to?

Learning how to finance really for me has been a journey of learning about myself. And that is really what I am continually seeking. To get closer to my true self and understand my true nature. And the domain of finance is an excellent arena for me to uncover more of me. 

And that is how I learned to finance. 

How to LA

I have twenty years of experience driving and have driven in at least twenty countries and many more cities. However, driving in LA recently made me feel like I was new to the roads.

The cars, all size XL, and even bigger trucks, rushed by me on the freeway like the wind, leaving my car shaking gently from side to side. The maze of freeways, intersecting and crossing over each other, like spaghetti tangled up together, made me realize how different driving is here. At one point, I felt like I was driving up a roller coaster slope, and as my gaze took in the sights from the top of the highway, to my surprise, my belly began to feel queasy and my legs began to shake lightly, as my fear of heights got triggered. While in a car on a highway.

Driving in LA was reflective of a culture that’s in a hurry…to sit in traffic. A hurry-up-to-wait comical scene, replayed countless times for the locals, on a daily basis. I could feel the energy that everyone was in a rush to get somewhere, and get there now. It didn’t feel great and made me wonder why the hurry, all the time.

It also helped me appreciate the more relaxed pace of daily living I have been enjoying in Sydney and Lisbon for most of this year. I take for granted and even sometimes complain in Portugal how everything and everyone can seem so slow at times. Yet after being on the highways of LA for a mere hour, I was craving for things to slow down.

At one point, I pulled up in a parking lot to take a break and went into a store. As I stepped out of the car, I heard yelling about ten feet from me. There was a man speaking loudly while wobbling in the street, alone, clearly suffering from some illness or challenge. A panhandler then approached me from the other side. And as I took in this neighborhood, I realized I did not feel safe.

I can’t remember the last time I felt unsafe in my surroundings. A privilege that I have long enjoyed and I realized in that moment, I often take it for granted. When in a space that I do not feel safe in or feel rushed in, my mind is no longer free and my body is no longer relaxed. My sympathetic nervous system, also known as the fight-or-flight response system, is fully activated, releasing cortisol, the stress hormone, to prepare my body to defend itself against perceived or imaginary threats.

A decade of consistent mindfulness practice has helped me tune into the sensations and changes my mind and body experience in near real-time. 

At that moment, I noticed that my breath began to shorten and became shallow. My shoulders tensed up. My jaw clenched. My body temperature rose. And my eyes opened wider as I took in all of my surroundings.

And at that moment - I knew I needed some comfort, and I knew exactly where I would find it. An authentic Mexican restaurant. 

As I walked in, the smells, sounds and sights took me back to childhood. As a family growing up, my sister and I would love to go to Mexican restaurants with our parents and we would often cook the cuisine at home. The familiar flavors and spices provided a warm hug when I needed it, and allowed me to relax.  

There are so many ways to find comfort, be it people, places or in my case that day in LA, the food.

While this recent trip made me realize that I didn’t love being in LA, I did appreciate how my short experience there helped me appreciate what I already have, but often fail, or forget, to recognize. A reminder that I can find meaning and value in every experience I have. I just have to look for it.

And that is how I learned to LA.

How to Pigeon

This is not a reflection about pigeon, a common and comforting yoga pose.

It is about a bird. More specifically, the dead pigeon I saw lying on my apartment balcony in Lisbon a few days ago.

I have long had a fear of birds and have a particular dislike of pigeons. It is not something I have explored in depth to understand why, however I know from years of walking the pigeon filled streets of New York City and squares of European capitals that my fear is triggered at a subconscious level. And this recent morning forced me to face my fear.

My morning routine is often calm and peaceful. I wake up, brush my teeth, make some herbal tea, take in some inspiration from the view of the city and river from my apartment, before sitting down to meditate.

As I looked out at the view, I noticed something on my balcony. At first, I thought there was a gray glove on the balcony. I was confused and curious.

As I walked up to the glass window for a closer look, my body jumped back suddenly, before my mind could cognitively process what I saw.

Staring at the dead pigeon lying on my balcony, from the safety of standing on the inside of the glass door, the dread and anxiety I was experiencing continued to increase.

Any sense of tranquility I had felt was long gone now. My heart rate was elevated. I was instantly aware of the immediate changes in my body sensations.

My mind began to quickly brainstorm on possible ways to deal with the situation without having to personally deal with it. Do I call my cleaner? Do I call a friend? Do I ask building security kindly to help me out?

My mind was also quick to dismiss all of these ideas.

Then I was reminded of a conversation I had yesterday with a friend by the beach. He was reminding with me that we can find meaning in everything if we look close enough, and that he often sees challenges as the universe is testing him.

The universe has often tested me. Those moments of feeling challenged are the moments I have grown the most. And gained the most. 

In an era where knowledge is available in abundance, it is clear to me that knowledge alone is not enough. It is the application of knowledge through experience and the integration of knowledge from experience that leads to wisdom. This is why so much of my life has been driven by a desire to experiment, my recipe of choice for combining knowledge with experience.

Confidence is helpful and I think can only be built through experience.

I saw this particular challenge in front of me as not only a test from the universe, but also an opportunity for me to gain a new experience, and continue to build the confidence to do things I don’t want to do.

In the face of the many challenges the universe gives me, be it physical, emotional, intellectual, relational, I always have a choice. The choice is to face it or hide from it. And assuming I chose to face it, I then can choose to integrate the experience, by taking a moment to reflect on what I learned about myself through it.

This dead pigeon lying on my balcony was a challenge and a choice. 

My legs were now shaking as I took a cardboard box and slowly opened the balcony sliding door. I walked up to it and then unconsciously jumped back. I was experiencing genuine fear, in a clearly physical way.

I walked back into the safety of my apartment and took a few deep breaths to calm down. In a moment of meta awareness, I noticed my mind was making stories and then I was reacting to those stories, so strongly that my body was shaking from it.

I needed to stop my mind from making stories. I put in my earbuds and played a recent voice message I received overnight from a friend. Hearing a familiar voice naturally put me in a state of calm, and my mind now had something else to focus on.

I then confidently walked back outside with the cardboard box, looked away to not give my mind too close of a look and did what I had dreaded doing. I did it

My mind was calm, yet my body was still shaking. I went downstairs to throw out the box and was waiting to see my body relax. It didn’t. 

Noticing this, I sat down quietly on the floor in my apartment, closed my eyes and began to do some deep breathing exercises. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and noticed my body had now relaxed.

I stood up and walked back towards the balcony. I noticed a few small red marks on the outdoor carpet on my balcony. 

A smile appeared on my face. These marks would serve as a subtle reminder for me that in the face of the many tests the universe will present to me, I have a choice and I can choose to face what I fear.

And that is how I learned to pigeon.