Kunal Gupta's Blog, page 8

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.

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.