Gavin Whyte's Blog, page 22
November 24, 2017
The Anxiety of Writing
You are still planning the book you agreed to write for the movie director. Two days ago you sat in front of the screen, and you were riddled with anxiety.
This is nothing new, but you wonder if you will ever find the writing process easy. You wonder how anybody finds the writing process easy. For you, it’s one of the hardest things in the world. You are reminded of Hemingway: There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at your typewriter and bleed.
You have a habit of scratching your head, like a chimp trying to solve a puzzle. If it’s not your head, it’s your stubbly chin. Any onlooker would think you are on the brink of some eternal truth that has thus far remained hidden. But no. You just want to know what your protagonist will do next. You just want to conjure up the next challenging circumstance that will help them grow.
You write.
Then you delete.
Then you write again, and you delete again; a process that promotes nothing but unease in your belly. A cage of butterflies.
You wonder when you will learn to fully accept that writing is a process of rewriting. Telling yourself this comforts you. Nobody writes out a story in one go, like a hen laying a chicken, and not an egg.
A writer has to be willing to sit on a story until it hatches and grows feathers.
You wonder if the anxiety would subside if you didn’t drink coffee in the morning. Yesterday you shared a coffee with your wife, and later, when you sat down to write, you went through two large flasks of green tea.
And you had a good, productive day. Anxiety was present, but you seemed to accept it. You smiled at it, danced with it, allowed it to come through in your writing; write, delete, write delete, it didn’t matter, this was writing, real writing. This is what it’s all about.
You got up to go to the bathroom god knows how many times (two flasks of green tea!), and when you came back to sitting you felt invigorated and refreshed, not just from visiting the gents but from getting up, walking, giving yourself space.
Space… so important.
Shoulders getting sore, you changed positions. You unfolded the small table your wife bought you (for you to experiment with standing whilst typing – something you rarely do) and placed it on the yoga mat, on the floor, at the end of the bed. You felt comfortable kneeling like the Japanese. A friend sent you an article about the benefits of squatting, so after reading it you squatted for a while, and then you crossed your legs like you do when you meditate, and all of it helped.
Note to self: Wishing the anxiety to stop creates more of it. Use it, or it will use you.
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November 13, 2017
Descendant of a Friend
Last night you decided to go for a walk.
You had been cooped up in the apartment all day, planning and outlining your new book.
You felt slightly guilty for not having seen any of the sun, although winter has officially come to Taiwan so there was little sun to see. Strange how you complain when it’s too hot, but as soon as those warm days leave (which is only for 3 months of the year) you welcome their return with open arms.
So you wrapped up, grabbed your umbrella – always a wise thing to do in Taiwan, as the sky can suddenly rip open without any warning whatsoever – and set off.
No destination in mind, just one foot in front of the other to take your mind away from the story you are working on.
The characters wouldn’t leave you alone, muttering this and that in your ears, but you tried your best to focus on the feeling of your feet caressing the cold earth.
You walked towards the bank, a path you seldom take since your dog passed away five weeks ago. You walked her this way every morning. She did her business, you picked it up, and then you both headed home for breakfast.
You carried on walking, perhaps whilst reminiscing.
Crossing the road, in the opposite direction to you, was a man, and under his arm was a small white dog.
You did a double-take. You couldn’t believe it. Pekingese dogs are extremely rare in Taiwan. Not once whilst walking her did you meet another like her, and yet here was one looking exactly like your friend, the one your wife had shared 13 years of her life with.
You turned around and followed that man into a 7/11. You didn’t care what he thought of you; thought little of the fact that he was withdrawing money from the ATM, and therefore wouldn’t want a foreigner crawling around his feet; you greeted his dog as if it was somehow a descendent of your beloved companion, as if, somehow, it was in touch with her, that it could talk to her beyond the veil, that it could pass on a message.
This feeling was so strong, that you felt compelled to say: “Say hello to Hanbao for me, will you?”
You took the wagging of its tail and the lick of your hand as a comforting yes.
The owner didn’t care you was filming his dog, taking photo after photo of it. He stood there, filling his wallet with cash. You wanted to shake his hand, as if to say thank you for the gift, but at the last moment you retracted.
You said thank you, and left, and for the rest of the walk you could not stop smiling.
Five minutes later you were pulled over by a policeman. He asked to see your ID. You have been in Taiwan for 3 years, and this is the first anything like this has happened.
“Of course. Here. What’s the problem?”
It’s the dog owner. You shouldn’t have been taking photos of his dog when he was at the cash machine. A bit of a stupid thing to do, don’t you think?
Such things were going through your head as the officer took a picture of your ARC (Alien Residential Card).
Next, he looked at your face, then quickly to a picture on his phone.
“No, it doesn’t look like you.”
You asked him if you could see the person you were supposed to resemble. He was friendly about it.
“It’s the beard, see?” he says.
You are looking at a screenshot of some CCTV footage.
“But this guy’s from the Middle East,” you say. “He’s got a black moustache and I’ve got ginger stubbled.”
The policeman giggles to himself, says thank you, gets back on his motorbike, and off he goes.
You dig your phone out, replay the footage of the small, white dog that looks so much like your friend, and you can’t wait to show your wife.
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November 12, 2017
A New You
Not so long ago you started to write an account of your grief (your dog passed away), and it turned into something that resembled the beginning of a memoir. Completely unintentional. But the point is, whilst writing it you referred to yourself as You, not I. And you found this to be an extremely effective way to write.
So that’s what you are going to attempt here. You haven’t updated your blog in a while, and felt the need to write something. By posting, say, once a week you think it will help flex those cerebral writing muscles of yours.
It will give you a break from your pursuits; well, The Pursuit, not plural. You are writing a book for a movie director, and have a nine-month deadline (approximately).
Soon after accepting the task three things occurred to you:
You have never worked to a deadline before
You have never planned a story before (all 5 of your books were written by the light of the previous sentence)
You know absolutely nothing about story structure
In a short period of time you have seen the effectiveness of a deadline, the importance of planning (thanks to K.M. Weiland’s amazing books on the subject), and how structure can make or break a story.
You are working on the project every day, and feel it’s slowly coming together – it has to(!)
You are halfway through reading Ursula Le Guin’s A Wizard of Earthsea. It’s number 82 of the books you have read in 2017 (your goal was to read 70). The next book on your list is Wild, by Jay Griffiths, of which you have already read 11% of, on your friend’s Kindle (that he kindly lent you while he went to Bali for a month on a Shamanic retreat).
If you could read all day, you would.
Last week you and your wife went to the cinema to see Loving Vincent, and you can’t wait to watch it again. What a great job they did!
Your wife left for work about an hour ago; “Lunch’s in the fridge, remember”, and so now it’s just you and your creative demons.
You was going to go to a cafe to write, but think you’ll stay at home – although if the lonely dog upstairs doesn’t stop whining you might have to get out. Libraries in Taiwan are closed on Mondays so you look forward to tomorrow when you can sit in peace and quiet, surrounded by an infinity of Mandarin books you don’t understand.
Out the window the sky is more white than grey, and the air is mighty damp. You have spent the whole morning sneezing due to Taipei’s air quality, hence the surgical mask you are wearing, making you look like you are about to operate on your Mac.
At the end of this sentence you will walk to the kitchen, make a flask of hot brown sugar and ginger tea (or maybe coffee…), and then knuckle down to business.
The post A New You appeared first on Gavin Whyte.
June 11, 2017
A Life Lived (A Poem)
A life lived fully
Is a life lived,
Dying,
To the moment.
A life lived fully
Is a life lived,
Dying,
To all that is,
That is what was…
A life lived.
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A Life Lived… (A short poem)
A life lived fully
is a life lived,
Dying,
to the moment.
A life lived fully
is a life lived,
Dying,
to all that is,
That is what was…
A life lived.
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Wee Words for the Weekend
As I write, I have various things stuck to the wall in front of me.
I have a drawing of our dog that my wife did.
[image error]Notice the two hearts
June 10, 2017
Don’t Wait for the Eulogy
To quote my dictionary, a eulogy is:
a speech or piece of writing that praises someone or something highly, especially a tribute to someone who has just died.
I wrote and read one at my friend’s funeral, back in 2008. I spoke about how he had positively influenced my life, and how he had inspired me. I quoted a few things he had said that have stuck with me till this very day. He was 22-years old when he died, and at his funeral there were around 250 people to wave him goodbye.
I can’t honestly recall if I told him how much he influenced me or not. Probably not. I should have done. And that goes for all the other people I’ve known who have passed on too.
Doesn’t it seem like a shame to wait until a person has passed away before we share what impact they had on us?
Irvin Yalom, in his book, Staring at the Sun, calls this impact Rippling. Our positive actions, ideas, and words ripple out to friends, family members, and even strangers, in ways we may never imagine.
When we listen wholeheartedly to someone’s troubles, and offer words of support and comfort, we can alter the course of their life, and quite possibly save it.
The heart that receives this kind of support doesn’t forget so easily.
When someone has reached out to us, when they say the right words at exactly the right time, or their actions ease the strain and the pressure we are feeling so strongly, they can leave an imprint that lasts a lifetime.
So instead of expressing our gratitude at someone’s funeral, why not tell them before they are gone?
Tell them how their words of support, their encouragement, their actions, and their selfless deeds helped you when you most needed to be helped. Tell them how much their loyalty as a friend means to you.
We might find this difficult or embarrassing; we might get upset and cry, for such is the overwhelming nature of gratitude. It’s not so surprising is it, that we wait until someone’s funeral to do it?
If you really don’t want to face the person you want to thank, then consider writing them a letter of gratitude.
Imagine them in your mind’s eye as you are writing. Think back to all they have done for you. See how your life has been impacted because of them being a part of it. Think what your life could have been like if they hadn’t have been there for you.
They could be:
A member of your family who was always there for you
A friend who acted more like the parent you never had
A teacher who helped you believe in yourself
A work colleague that gave you advice – advice that led to your new start
A customer who just knew what to say when you were looking sad
Even your pet! (Why not!?)
To help you start, you might want to write something like this:
Dear {their name},
I am writing this letter as an expression of my gratitude to you. Without you acting as a foundation, I surely would have sank several times. You have picked me up more times than I am able to remember. Your kind words and actions have had a lasting impact on my life, and I think it is important that you know….
You can pick out specific things they did and said, and no doubt you will jolt their memory, for chances are they have forgotten.
The imprint left on the giver’s heart isn’t half as prominent as that left on the receiver’s.
When you are happy with your letter, read it out loud to yourself, whilst imagining the person you are giving thanks to standing in front of you.
If you feel embarrassed about reading it whilst in their company, consider ringing them and reading it to them over the phone. What about over Skype or using FaceTime? You could even record yourself reading it and send it to them. If none of those feel right, how about sending them an email? Maybe contain a few pictures to jog their memory.
Whatever method you choose to express your gratitude, know that the other person might also feel uncomfortable, embarrassed or awkward.
They might not feel that what they did was so special, and that it doesn’t warrant such an outward show of emotion. They might have even forgotten about it completely!
But know, that when these feelings have subsided, and they have absorbed your heartfelt message of thanks, they will beam from the inside out.
Let’s not wait until someone passes for us to reveal how they supported, inspired and encouraged us.
**
Thanks for reading.
Before you go, it would be great if you could Like, Comment and/or Share
The ebook version of my uplifting and moving fable, The Girl with the Green-Tinted Hair, is now free. Please go and grab yourself a copy. I hope you enjoy it.
Blessings.
Gavin
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June 5, 2017
Stop Procrastinating And Do It!
I have often thought it strange that many of us think death only happens to others.
I keep coming back to this topic, and will forever keep coming back to it too, because it plays such a big part in how I live, and in how I perceive life.
I have heard that many people who get cancer say it woke them up. For the first time, they see just how amazing life is. They may suddenly notice trees; how they seem to be waving at them when the wind blows. The sound of the rain may get amplified like never before, and the patterns in the puddles, formed with every drop, may seem like breathtaking art.
“For the first time I feel alive,” they say. “It’s just a pity I had to have my body riddled with cancer to find out.”
But is it really the first time they have felt so full of life, or have they simply forgotten what it was like to be a child?
We have all experienced that.
But as we age, we so easily grow numb to the wonders that are forever on display around us.
Don’t wait until your body is riddled with some disease before you feel alive again.
Don’t let that be your wake-up call.
Most of us don’t have cancer, or any other terminal illness, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a possibility that we won’t be diagnosed before our next birthday.
I’m not being melodramatic, or trying to frighten you.
I’m stating a fact.
I’m using these words as an attempt to wake you up.
If you’re already buzzing with life, and feel inspired, and are striving for things you want to go for, then good for you. If you feel happy with yourself, content and at peace – good for you!
Seriously, brilliant. That’s amazing.
But so many of us put on the brakes before we have even started.
What’s holding you back, besides fear?
The Dalai Lama was right when he said, “We are all born with the seed of our own demise.”
It’s true.
As soon as we are born, the process starts.
What something like cancer does, is shoves life’s hands in our face, so that its tick-tock-tick-tock is louder than ever.
When will you start writing that book?
When will you start going jogging?
When will you start to lose weight?
Stop putting it off!
Do it!
Start!
“What’s the point if I’m going to die anyway?”
A defeatist attitude doesn’t get anyone anywhere.
If you think life is pointless, try looking with fresh eyes, as if you’re going to be blind in a minute’s time.
Go on, do it.
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If you do it correctly, I bet something clicks deep within you.
Pay attention to it.
You will soften, perhaps even overcome, the numbness you have formed around your senses.
Death is coming, my friend. When will you fully accept this?
Use death as an excuse to live life!
Don’t delay because of a belief that you’ll do it all in your next life.
Who told you you were going to have a next life?
This is life! Here, now.
You must do your best to live life your way. Nobody has ever walked your path before, and nobody ever will.
Leave your magic, not your ass-print on the sofa, or your prints on the cellphone.
When will you apply for that job, start that business, pick that paintbrush up, and fill that blank canvas with the chaos going on behind your eyes?
That’s your chaos – completely unique to you.
Use it! Don’t be ashamed of it.
When will you make your next move, at work, or in your love life?
What, you’re afraid? Fear shows us where we need to grow. It’s the outermost wall of our comfort zone.
As soon as you do the thing you’re afraid of doing, the fear of it vanishes.
It’s like the snake that turned out to be a rope. You don’t go back to being afraid of the rope.
Come on, my friend.
Go live.
Do it. Whatever it is you’re procrastinating over.
Start it today – and make sure you don’t stall at the planning stage!
**
Thanks for stopping by
June 3, 2017
Wee Words for the Weekend
J. Krishnamurti is a teacher I have felt somewhat close to over the years.
It’s an excerpt from his last journal that I would like to share with you today.
But first, I briefly want to share with you a powerful experience I had.
Have you ever had a dream that feels so real that you have no doubt that it actually happened, albeit on some other plane of existence?
I can recall several such “dreams”. The one I want to share with you is rather fitting because it involved J. Krishnamurti. In fact, it’s since having that experience that I’ve felt connected to him.
A couple of years ago I was reading his last journal, and I wasn’t enjoying it at all. I thought he was whining and moaning too much, and it was quite hard for me to get through. Maybe he was just telling it as it is, no sugar-coating involved, and I wasn’t used to such sharp truths.
I managed to get over half-way through the book, and then quit. And that’s something I very rarely do. Once I start a book I like to finish it, regardless of how treacherous it may be.
That very night, I dreamt I was in a classroom, and who was sitting at a desk but Krishnamurti himself!
And he was not happy…
He looked completely normal, just like as if he was sitting in front of me – not like I ever met him, or anything. He died in 1986, when I was three. But my point is, is that there was no crazy ‘dreamy stuff’.
He slammed his hand down on the desk and yelled, “You can’t just read the easy stuff! You’ve got to read what you find difficult!”
So, that morning, after a good telling off in my sleep, I began reading his journal again.
And I couldn’t believe it… the last thousand words or so felt as if they were written specifically for me. I could almost here him saying, “See, you fool! You nearly missed it! Don’t do that again!”
It related to my passion of how we live with death and dying, and how, when we embrace the natural process of dying, we can feel the most alive.
I have often thought about how amazing it would be to have a “Life Class” included in schools and colleges. There would be no right or wrong answers, just the opportunity to share ideas, beliefs and opinions.
Discussions would develop on and around life, love, death and dying; you know, things that matter. We wouldn’t shy away from topics just because they appeared sexist, racist, or crude. We would openly discuss all notions of being human.
It would be amazing for children and young adults to have a space where they can have their thoughts and ideas firstly accepted, and later pulled apart. I believe such debates and discussions would breed emotionally balanced adults, and our future as a collective whole would look more promising.
Here’s an excerpt of what I read, that made my connection with Krishnamurti feel almost tangible.
Looks like he agreed with my vision of a “Life Class”.
Taken from Krishnamurti to Himself – His Last Journal
Wednesday, March 30, 1984
As you teach children mathematics, writing, reading and all the business of acquiring knowledge, they should also be taught the great dignity of death, not as a morbid, unhappy thing that one has to face eventually, but as something of daily life – the daily life of looking at the blue sky and the grasshopper on a leaf. It is part of learning, as you grow teeth and have all the discomfort of childish illnesses. Children have extraordinary curiosity. If you see the nature of death, you don’t explain that everything dies, dust to dust and so on, but without any fear you explain it to them gently and make them feel that the living and the dying are one…
**
Thank you for stopping by
June 2, 2017
3 Tips for Finding “The One”
What if your notion of “the one” is actually preventing you from finding the one?
Personally, I think the whole concept of finding “our one and only” is romantic nonsense.
Having said that, hopefully, by the end of the next 700 words or so, you will be well on your way to truly finding what you seek.
Let’s jump right in…
1 – If you are with someone, he or she is “the one”.
After all, they are the one making you reflect on yourself. They are bringing the issues to the table; issues that contain the potential for you to grow. If they don’t live up to your notion of “the one”, stop being a romantic and get to work on yourself, not them.
You might end up outgrowing them, and you might feel that there’s nothing else left to do but walk away. Yes, it’s scary, but if you’re serious about your own happiness and wellbeing, you won’t delay for long.
Remember: Freeing yourself is also freeing them.
2 – If you are single, let go of your idea of “the one” and watch what happens.
Something remarkable happens when you stop looking for the perfect partner. The possibilities open up for you to meet someone authentic and genuine, because you have stopped judging potential partners by how they don’t live up to your image of “the one”.
Your image of a perfect partner is erroneous, unless of course it includes all imperfections.
3 – If you really want to find the one (the one without inverted quotation marks) then do this one thing.
Look in the mirror.
NEWSFLASH: You are the one you are looking for.
Learn to love yourself.
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Stop moaning about your so-called imperfections, and see them as aspects of your unique perfection.
You are amazing.
Fill your own cup with adoration and love for yourself, and see how you begin to emit attractive qualities, such as:
Confidence
Joy
Warmth
Humour
Patience
Forgiveness
Acceptance
Like ripples, they will come back to you in the form of people and circumstances.
Jim Rohn, the late American author and motivational speaker, always used to say, “Work harder on yourself than you do on your job.”
Let’s change it:
Work harder on yourself than you do on another.
Be kind to yourself.
Watch those self-sabotaging thoughts we all have.
Catch them, like wasps – for they do sting – and replace them with butterflies and song birds.
Repeat to yourself the following affirmations when you first wake up in the morning, and when you’re dozing at night:
I love myself.
I am perfect the way I am.
I deserve the best.
I am loving and I am loved.
I forgive myself.
You might not believe yourself at first, but just keep doing it. Say them with a smile.
Notice the difference in how you breathe, and how you hold yourself.
You might suddenly feel a need to dress differently, to wear brighter colours to match your new outlook. Your posture might change. You might stop slouching and stand up straight, with your shoulders back, and your chin up.
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Get rid of the notion of “the one” once and for all.
It has the power to not only hold you back, by prohibiting your potential for finding someone real to love and be loved by. But it can so easily crumple existing relationships.
It’s a romantic ideology, inspired by poems, literature, songs lyrics, movies, and everything else.
You might be saying, “Hold on a second, there, Gav. I’ve found “the one”.”
What if “the one” has an affair? What if they die?
Are you not going to open yourself up to love again?
And if and when you do finally brave loving another again, are they instantly demoted to number two?
What if you feel like you actually love them more than your initial number one? (You know, the one who an affair or died.)
What then?
You can’t have two ones; one of those must be a two.
Which one will you pick to be your number two?
It’s romantic BS.
I’m telling you, you are the one you are looking for.
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Learn to be your own best friend; you don’t need a partner to be a happy, but being happy and content being single is the perfect way to attract your ideal partner.
Smile at being single. Revel in it. Be comfortable spending time with yourself; smile at how wonderful you are; go to the cinema by yourself; go and have a coffee by yourself, and just watch what happens.
It really can feel like magic.
**
Thanks for stopping by.
Blessings.
Gavin
