Kunal Gupta's Blog, page 8

How to Art

Sitting for dinner, at a beachside resort in the South of Spain overlooking the Mediterranean, I was with a group of entrepreneurs last week.

The conversation started about business, moved to technology and went to geopolitics. After our main course was cleared, everyone’s bellies and minds feeling full, I leaned back in my seat and felt my body begin to relax. 

For a moment, I zoned out and stopped paying attention to the conversation, which at that point in the evening I started to find boring. 

I had the random thought that it had been a while since I danced. Freestyle dance has become a regular part of my life. A form of expression that I have come to cherish fondly. While in Sydney for the better part of this year, I managed to go to an Ecstatic Dance event or 5 Rhythms class weekly. I missed it. 

“What’s your favorite form of creative expression?”, I interrupted the conversation and asked the group. 

There was a long pause. 

I shared that for me, it is writing. It comes effortlessly and naturally to me. It transports me into a different realm, where I lose touch with time, my surroundings, and immediately fall into a flow state. Dance would be probably the next form of expression when I feel most in flow.

The group started to share, one-by-one, each with a gentle childlike smile on their faces. Screenwriting. Singing. Playing various instruments. Painting inanimate objects. Acting and improvisation. Cooking. The variety felt endless. 

No one needed more than a second to answer. Everyone knew immediately how they enjoyed most expressing themselves creatively. 

I then asked everyone when was the last time they practiced their favorite form of creative expression. Everyone went quiet. The answer was clear: no one could remember.

It's funny how we are encouraged to pursue all different types of art & creativity in our childhood. Yet in adulthood, it is rarely spoken about or seen as a priority. 

To make it important would involve being encouraged to do it, without the expectation of being good at it. 

Oftentimes, we are conditioned to believe that it is only worth doing something if we are committed to becoming the best at it. Oftentimes, this involves comparison and in a culture influenced by social media, the comparisons are endless. 

It’s a shame to not try something because we are fearful of not being good at it. It is an even bigger shame to not be able to enjoy something while being terrible at it. 

Joy does not need to be so tightly associated with achievement and acquisition. Joy is a spontaneous feeling that arises naturally from being present with the experience of doing something. 

So much of the joy of artistic expression has to do with the process, and not the outcome

The age-old teaching, seen everywhere in spiritual, religious, and mindfulness texts, reminds us to focus on enjoying the journey versus becoming attached to a specific destination. 

Art is the application of this teaching. Art is the practice of enjoying the process. 

It’s a shame to not make space for what we enjoy doing, on a regular basis. Life is about making trade-offs, and the trade-offs we make shape our day-to-day experience of life. 

Connecting to the desire to express that is often buried under the to-do lists, the expectations we perceive from those around us and the ambition to achieve is ultimately the source of fuel needed to make the trade-offs to make space for art on a regular basis. 

Letting go of any expectations to be good at our chosen forms of art is the freedom we so desperately need to feel on a regular basis. 

Expression through art is something we discover at some point in our journey through life and doesn’t need to end in childhood. It is a gift that continues to give, well into adulthood. 

And that is how I learned to art. 

How to Root

The root of the word mother is matr.

Matr is the root of several important and related concepts. Material is the source from which other things are made of. Matter gives shape to the material world in which we live in. Matrix is where things develop or originate from.

When I take a moment to pause and reflect on the root of the creation in my life, I begin to discover mother everywhere.

My breakfast is often granola with fruits. The apples and pears were grown on a farm somewhere. The farmer is a mother to my breakfast. The fruits were transported from the farm to my local grocery store. The people involved in packaging, transporting and unpacking the fruits are all mothers to my breakfast.

Many people helped create the roads, trucks and buildings that were needed to get the fruit from the farm to me. They are all mothers to my breakfast.

Yesterday I spoke with a close friend. We connect over many shared interests. Many people were involved in helping inspire each of those interests in us. They are all mothers to our friendship. We have shared many experiences together, including travel, yoga and volunteer work.

Many more people were involved in creating the space for each of those experiences to happen, each of them mothers to our friendship. My friend and I have only a small role to play in the friendship that we enjoy when I reflect about how many mothers had a role to play.

And finally, where do my ideas come from? Are they even mine? They may appear in my mind but after I take a moment to pause and reflect, I again discover the many people and circumstances that led to the creation of these ideas that surface in my mind.

Every idea is grown from a seed that was planted thanks to some other person or experience. Every idea in my mind has a mother. Or several. My mind is like a gardener that cultivates the soil so that even a few of the seeds that have been planted by the many mothers may sprout.

As I become aware of the infinite sources of creation that have influenced the food that I taste, the company that I enjoy and the ideas that I cultivate, my understanding grows that I alone cannot take credit for any of it. A level of humility arises which manifests as gratitude in my heart towards all of the mothers who have and continue to contribute to my life.

And that is how I learned to root. 

How to 15 Hours

After spending the last few months enjoying the Australian summer, and avoiding the North American winter, it was time for me to pack up my life again into my carry-on suitcase to visit family & chase the sunshine.

The long haul flight from Australia to North America was 15 hours. 15 hours had never felt so long.

Although I’ve taken hundreds of flights in my lifetime already, these long haul flights are of a unique breed and bring up different experiences. They are uncomfortable with limited leg room, awkward sleeping positions, lackluster food, and ending with the inevitable dreaded back pain and jet lag. 

A key message from Viktor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search For Meaning, feels especially helpful on a 15 hour flight. His observation is that when one has a purpose that they feel connected to, something to look forward to, then they can endure suboptimal conditions.

This was my experience exactly on this recent flight. 

I knew on the other end of this long flight was my three year old nephew, who I was missing dearly and had not gotten to see in four months. That purpose was so important to me and special that I didn’t mind the discomfort of sitting on a 15 hour flight with recirculated air, unappetizing food, poor sleep, at times feeling cold and at times feeling hot, not being able to stretch my legs, and more. 

While sitting there on board, I often imagined my nephew, playing with him, talking with him, tickling him and that was enough for me to forget about the discomforts my body was experiencing temporarily.

Connecting with this purpose of my trip changed how I physically & mentally prepared and how I showed up on the 15 hour flight.

First, I didn’t feel the need to rush. I noticed myself preparing for the longer trip by getting to the airport earlier and being more mentally calm. This meant that everything didn’t need to be timed to perfection, and I could enjoy the airport experience. 

In the past, I might have gotten easily annoyed by other travelers with less experience moving through airport security, I noticed myself having empathy for those around me. Going through security can be a stressful experience with the bright lights, people shouting at you seemingly random rules and the fact everyone around you seems equally confused and rushed.

Flying over the ocean meant no wifi, thankfully. I’ve reflected a lot recently about the value of disconnecting. Often if I suggest to people to go offline for even twelve hours, let alone twenty four hours, the push back is strong and immediate. I know that it is often the perceived expectations of others that prevent one from going offline. Yet, here I was, watching a plane full of a few hundred people who all went offline without a fuss for a 15 hour stretch. Proof that it is in fact possible. 

I also gave myself permission to relax. On a 15 hour flight, there is ample space to watch movies, read books, write and meditate. All activities I thoroughly enjoy and wish to make more space for in my daily life, which I am able to easily do on a long flight.

I also oddly enjoyed the airplane food. Where before I would complain about the food quality, now I feel grateful to have something to eat while thirty thousand feet in the sky. I took the time to appreciate the amount of people & things involved in bringing me this meal while I was flying in the sky, and it changed the experience.  The meal I was eating had to deal with transportation, air pressure, temperature changes, and conditions that do not resemble a fine dining restaurant, I can’t expect much. A lesson for life is that low expectations can be helpful to reduce disappointment. 

Whenever I am noticing discomfort or an unpleasant situation, asking myself why I am here in the first place, connecting with the underlying purpose, can be helpful in shifting my perspective and attaching to the big, versus the small.

And this is how I learned to 15 hours.

How to Fiji

Imagine watching a boat speed away, leaving you behind, alone, on a tiny little island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. 

This was my experience not too long ago during a spontaneous trip to Fiji. 

I had been itching to get on a plane, and seeking a bit of adventure. It had been nearly six weeks that I had been back in Sydney at that point. The longest time period in years I had gone without getting on a plane. 

I was checking the weather forecast daily, unsure where to go. On that Monday morning, after my morning meditation, I started journaling and felt the impulse to decide on a vacation destination and to not overthink it. 

Fiji came up without any research other than the fact that it was a place I had not yet adventured to and that the reality TV show Survivor was sometimes filmed there. It was decided. To make it more interesting, I decided to do the trip without my phone. 

The next day, once I landed in main land Fiji after a four hour flight from Sydney, I was whisked away on an hour long boat trip to the island I found a hotel to stay at last minute. I knew I was in for an adventure as I watched hundreds of lush green islands popping up from the ocean, varying heights, all without much if any signs of human civilization. 

The next morning, I woke up to a cloudy sky. I walked from my room to the hotel reception, and asked the staff what I should do for the day.

The two locals behind the counter were young, and looked at one another, smiled gently and then turned to me. 

“We have an adventure planned for you today sir!” they said enthusiastically. “How does a picnic sound?”

I was curious and said yes. They asked me to be ready after breakfast by the dock. 

Once I got on the boat, there was a picnic basket and a lawn chair sitting there already. They told me they’d be taking me to a nearby island for a day trip. I didn’t think much of it. 

As we sped through the calm turquoise blue water, they pointed out to me the island where the movie Castaway, with Tom Hanks, was filmed. “Cool”, I thought. Again, I didn’t think much of it. 

Soon after, we started to approach a tiny island that was mostly wild vegetation with a small sandy beach. 

They unloaded the picnic basket and setup a lawn chair for me. 

Then they left. 

I soon realized that there was no one else on this island. 

Once the boat was gone, I realized there was no one else in sight, in any direction, as I looked out over the horizon. 

I felt a pulse of anxiety in my chest. I was alone. In the middle of the Ocean. Without a phone. Without any supplies beyond lunch. Without any contact with anyone. No one I knew knew that I was here.

The theoretical ‘if you were stranded on an island’ didn’t feel so theoretical in that moment. It was, and probably will be, the closest I’ll ever come to this feeling. So I leaned into it, as I know instinctively that my growth lies beyond the edge of my comfort zone. 

I sat. I swam. I strolled. 

Then, realizing that I was all alone on this tiny island, with no boats in sight and no people anywhere in sight, I took off all of my clothes.

It was a spontaneous impulse that I followed.  

I then again sat, swam and strolled. This time naked, it felt different. I felt exposed. Despite knowing that no one could see me, it took a bit for me to feel comfortable. 

And then I sat on the sand, looking out over the ocean, taking in this unique moment. 

A smile appeared on my face. It was not my usual adult smile though. It was a childish grin. There I was, enjoying the big blue ocean, without any one and without any thing. Nothing else and no one else mattered in that moment. 

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, as I realized all that had to happen for this moment to exist. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. 

Then all of a sudden, a tropical rainstorm came out of nowhere. Hail started hitting my bare skin. I had no where to go, nothing to protect me, so I just sat there. 

I have never felt so raw before. 

There I was, lying alone on a sandy beach, in the middle of the Pacific, with a rainstorm washing my body. 

I felt so big in that moment, the strength of my body, the courage in my mind, and the confidence to experiment. Yet at the same time, I felt so small. The vastness of the ocean, the vulnerability of being alone, and being fully exposed to nature. 

I had nothing and I felt like I was nothing. As the rain continued to pour on my body, my sense of self started to dissolve into the sand. It was beautiful, and terrifying at the same time. It felt like an energetic rebirth.

A few hours later, a boat appeared to bring me back to reality. As I rode back, I reflected on my adventure. I realized I was giving myself permission to let go of what no longer served me, and approach life more with a childlike sense of curiosity and wonder for what could be. This is the energy I hope to continue to bring into my daily life, without having to fly to the middle of no where with no one else around, to realize this. 

And that is how I learned to Fiji.