On Wednesday I drove my dad and his friends to a golf course not too far from Brighton, as part of his birthday celebration. While he golfed, I went to the town and beach, and enjoyed myself. The real highlight of the day, though, was visiting Infinity Foods Cafe.

Found in the North Laines part of Brighton, at 50 Gardner Street (tel: 01273 670743), Infinity Foods Cafe is a fantastic place offering the most wholesome food I’ve ever been offered. Vegetarian, vegan, organic, real pure food without additives, artficial flavourings or refined sugars are things this place holds in the highest regard. If you’re looking to eat cleanly and simply, this is the place to go. It took much deliberation to decide what to have (I literally stood gawping at the choices on the menu for ages, holding up people behind who in the end went ahead while I considered my choice). The guy who ordered standing next to me wanted the Middle Eastern Falafels, and after asking him what they were, I decided I’d go for that as well. Chickpeas, mashed and spiced, put into a ball and fried. Absolutely yummy. And with the beautiful salad it was serving with (dressed with wholesome dressings like pure tahini, and toasted seeds and nuts), it was a meal I enjoyed every mouthful of.

On my way out, I thanked a woman there, asking for a business card, and she spoke a little about the history of the place. I also bought a slice of their homemade rye bread (delicious) and a wholefood flapjack (also delicious). If only there were more of these sorts of wholesome-diet-conscious places around. Something like that, great quality food prepared by a chef that clearly loves what they do, is infinitely more nourishing than a thousand places I could mention. With our culture slowly becoming more aware of the effects food has on our bodies and minds, it can only be a matter of brief time before more places like this to pop up all over. When they do, I have no doubt we’ll see a healthier and happier world.

Are you aware of how you are sitting? Are you aware of the feeling of the mouse buttons beneath your fingers? Are you aware of the quality of your breathing? And what of your thoughts?

Yes, there sure is a lot of be aware of. These simple questions can be a real eye-opener to anyone who has never given this kind of analysis a thought. What use is awareness?

You are about to cross a busy road, you’d want to be aware of the dangers you face, wouldn’t you? If a car catches you unaware, it might be your death. But is the car really the danger, or is it your lack of awareness?

In any moment, we make a choice of whether to be aware or not. This choice is largely happening without our knowledge of it, as we identify with what thoughts we are having and that becomes our focus and reality. We might have enjoyable daydreams, letting our mind wander into fantasy as we imagine being on a beach somewhere, or play out a scenario where we save the one we love and they fall in love with us. This can be fun, and fulfill a need, but where is Now? If we are off daydreaming, who is overseeing us as we drive our cars, navigating streets, hazards, and making decisions on our way to work? If we are off somewhere else in our minds, what are we missing?

To the Zen master, awareness is key. What should I do? Be attentive. And after that? Be attentive. Yes, yes, but what else? Be attentive.

Yes, every moment we have that chance to be attentive, to feel the movement of our bodies, the textures on the ground, the weight of something in our hands. We can feel the wind in our hair, the waves at our feet, the sun on our face. We can hear birds singing, alarms ringing, traffic humming, bees buzzing. But that’s a lot to take in at once. Yes, it is. But without doing so, how can you be present in this moment, if you are filtering so much of it out?

In my title, I said that awareness brings with it a gift. This gift is not easy to conceive of, but it is easy to have a small taste of it. Drop whatever it is you are doing, you are thinking about, stop reading this and simply breathe. You’ve been doing this all your life, you’ve not had to force it, or pay attention to it, it just happens for you. Breathe. Slowly, deeply, in and out. Feel how the air goes in, either through your nose or mouth, and fills your lungs, expanding your belly, your chest, your ribcage. And then out it goes again. The body releases, lets the air out, contracts ever so slightly, creating the momentum to breathe in again. How does that feel, just to breathe, and to be aware of breathing?

It feels Real. That is the gift of awareness. And it is always available to you, in every moment.

I return from an acutely felt (but thankfully fairly short-lived) illness, weak and tired, but with a sense of freshness and change about me.

With that, I also bring a poem I wrote in November of last year, which I feel has relevance now, and can be something to share until I figure out what to do with this new found feeling of change.

Walking, walking, side by side,
I hear the wind, I hear the tide,
They tell me things that are too deep,
To have ever have come from me.

Drifting, drifting, time to time,
I hear it tick, I hear it chime,
It tells me things that are too deep,
To have ever have come from me.

Dreaming, dreaming, day to day,
I listen hard, I hear you say,
“There are some things that are too deep,
To have ever have come from me.”

Ok, this is highly silly, but why not?

During a quiz night at a local pub, the Olympic, we were given these half photos as questions (to guess who they were). While we were waiting for our quiz to be marked at the end, Sam, Matt and I amused ourselves with them.

As you can clearly see, there’s all sorts of stats on there, as we named, voted on and ordered them. For those curious about who drew what, perhaps the guys would be kind enough to comment, as I can’t remember all of them.

Some days can go by really fast, can’t they?

Heh, no, that’s not what I’m writing about here. I’m writing about fasting, the conscious refusal to take in food (and in some cases, water). I have fasted a few times in my life, and each time has been a learning experience. I remember my first one vividly. I had heard of spirtual practices involving the giving up of food for an amount of time, to lighten the spirit that can be so often weighed down by food and the heavy activity of digestion. Wanting a taste of this lightness, I vowed to give up food following my evening meal one day, and to take nothing solid until the morning after next. That is to say, to go the entirety of the next day consuming only water and herbal or fruit teas and juices.

I have dabbled with vegetarianism at times in my life, going several months sometimes without eating meat. I have also engaged in restrictions of foods such as sugar, or artificial additives and chemicals, and even to the extent of eating only purely natural and wholesome foods (that would be sticking to wholegrain breads and rice as opposed to white/refined foods). I have also spent time eating whatever I wanted. From these I have learned that what I eat does affect me, physically and mentally. That sounds really obvious, but for me it was so clear I didn’t see it for a long time.

It came to me one day [through a story told to me by a youngish tree in a circle of others - maybe I'll share that with you another time], that I might also fast by way of honouring the life that I have taken in order to eat. Mostly people will say that in thinking about animals, as I did too at the time, though I like to consider plant life in my honouring as well now. Though it doesn’t have the personality that animals do, it is living, just the same. So, I fasted, putting my physical discomfort toward a purpose beyond gain for myself.

As a third reason, on a purely physical level, I hoped that the rest of my digestive system would enable my body to detoxify itself a little, as I had read that the body steps up its degree of waste and toxin excretion during this time.

I managed through the morning quite easily, ignoring first my habit to eat breakfast around a certain time, and then later ignoring the actual hunger I experienced. I went on like that through the day, drinking water often, or making a herbal tea, to try and quell any hunger feelings that came. I learned that hunger is more than just a rumbling in the belly, and a call for food also comes in various different feelings, some of which many people have had I would guess.. feeling weak, the typical feeling associated with what modern science would call “low blood sugar”, for example. As the day wore on, I found myself increasingly listless and I did feel like I should be taking it easy anyway, almost fearfully in fact. However, in the late morning, when I was feeling an extra lightness and energy before my body began complaining in earnest, I enjoyed some gymnastics in the garden, joyful that I felt mobile and light and flexible.

I finished the day drinking teas and gradually feeling weaker and more ill. I remember that food became an increasing thought on my mind, and my senses became acutely aware of any scent of food that came from anywhere. By early evening, cat biscuits smelled absolutely delicious, and it required a degree of willpower not to eat them! By late evening, though physically tired, mentally I was not, my mind was whirring on and on much to my surprise. I went to bed grumpy, having suffered similar waves of feeling towards late evening. I hoped for an undisturbed sleep, a passing of the rest of the time without food in unconsciousness, ready to wake and eat. But hopes are sometimes dashed, and this time they were dashed thoroughly.

I woke often, and was often in great pain, feeling sick in the stomach. By early morning, I vommited, gaining a brief relief, physically. Mentally, I was in quite a different state. I was terrified. I thought I was dying. “Oh God, what have I done to myself?” I cried to myself. I had read that the re-introduction of food had to be slow after fasting to prevent further pain and damage, and feeling the way I did, I worried that I may have gone past the point where food could save me. I feared death, or permanent damage and pain. I stood (well, slumped) face-to-face with the greatest fear and unknown of all. This was not the sudden shock of nearly getting run over, this was a drawn-out affair, made all the worse by knowing it was my own doing.

I managed a few berries later on when my stomach settled after vommiting, but this soon set me vommiting again. Of course, with no actual food to be vommiting, it was mostly stomach acid and bile. “Oh no, I really can’t eat again, what if this never stops..?” I thought.

I put on the Animal Planet channel on TV. It was keeping me company while my family were away. I remember watching a programme following a family of cheetahs. Carnivores such as the big cats don’t eat every day, if unsuccessful in the hunt, it can be two or three. But of course, the longer without food, the less well the hunter performs. I suddenly related strongly to this mother Cheetah, chasing after a gazelle across the African Savanna, desperately hungry, and desperate to feed her cubs also. After two days of failure, her eventual success created an overwhelming euphoria in me. Something I had taken for granted, having plentiful food, was such a precarious thing for other lifeforms (and indeed our own in some cases). I cried, tears of great joy and great emotion for this Cheetah who had taken a life to keep the lives of her young, and herself, going. Perhaps then, there was hope for me too. I had kept down some small pieces of bread, nuts, raisins.. I nibbled ever so slowly, ever conscious of the process of eating, the tastes, the textures, in analysis over whether this is something my body is truly calling for, and what does it call for anyway? It prompted me to seriously re-evaluate what I ate for a time, what would be the optimum diet?

I spent much of the rest of that day feeling ill, laid up on the sofa, but I would recover in time. And I had learned, oh I had learned.

I have fasted a few times since then, some for shorter periods of time [having breakfast, then having nothing until breakfast the next day], which I hoped would leave me less.. ill, but in fact didn’t. I was worried, feeling myself fragile.

Most recently, I fasted on Monday. This time, with the same reasons as before, but with the added one of proving to myself that I could do it. If I could go through the day without food, if I could also continue activity as normal, then perhaps I would overcome a subtle fear of missing a meal, and with it learn to truly appreciate what I eat. The day went well, I walked to town and back, and did some heavy physical work shovelling and digging and wheelbarrowing earth around. It was interesting to me to see how a lack of food affected my body, but I also acknowledged that there were other ways to energize myself besides food. I found myself tender, and kinder, not in a tight grip ignoring food and hunger, but simply witnessing it and letting it be. Hunger did not consume me as it had before. I even prepared food for others without it being torture. This day I had only 2 cups of herb/fruit tea, and some water, closer to a complete stop of any consumption at all. Perhaps that had an effect, I do not know.

My night was disturbed, however, I woke often, though only once in pain, thinking I’d vomit. But instead, I enjoyed an irregularly timed bowel emptying, and the pain passed quickly. I slept once more, and enjoyed a small amount of fruit as breakfast. The day continued, I worked (gardening), proving indeed that I could continue to function without food for a while, and ate fruit for lunch, and a vegetable soup for dinner, letting this day be a continuing detox.

I have grown much stronger from this most recent fast. It has also helped me get in touch with my body’s instincts for food, and for hunger. It has helped me alter my habits to eating with more awareness, actually chewing my food, and not continuing to shovel it in despite the warning signals of fullness. I desire simpler foods, they taste different, taste better eaten this way, and I feel better for it.

And with that, I’ll go and have something to eat..

When I first had the idea of creating a site such as this, based on weblog technology, I asked myself, “what am I going to say?”

This is not from lack of things to say, but rather, to what degree do I wish to share my life and my experiences? There are many who use a weblog much like a journal, only instead of it being private, it is there for other people to see. Is this pure exhibitionism? A cry for attention? Or is it simply offering what is in one’s mind, so that others may better understand, or agree, or disagree? I think, rather than setting down the law here by saying, “this is right, that is wrong,” it is better for me to think in terms of what I would wish to say.

For my part, I have written in a journal for years, on and off. These were my private thoughts, safe from the world’s view. Just as the seed needs the darkness and protection of the deep earth in which to first sprout, so too do we sometimes need privacy for the things that are not yet strong enough in us to share with the world and perhaps face ridicule or prejudice, the extinguishing of fires of dreams barely lit.

As time has gone on, I have learned the value of caring less about what others say or think, and trusting my own instincts and feelings, being careful to see whether those thoughts I am having are really mine, or are just recordings repeated, initially spoken by other people. To live without fear and to be truly comfortable with myself, that is a big part of where I aim my growth and development. What better test, then, than to share more of myself in the public forum, to say, “this is what I do, what I think, what I feel.. this is what I believe to be true” (though I can only do my best, these things are subject to change as time goes on, as all things are).

And so, this site was born. However, just as I have looked through my old journals and seen that much of them recorded mundane experience, the same thing over and over, with no true value to it, I recognize that I do not want to fill this site with every minute detail of my day and my life. Here, I share what I think and believe, what interests me, and with it what might interest others. At its core, I hope that this site adds to people’s lives, that they may learn from what I say, or that it may provoke thought and questions. How many it reaches, that is not up to me. If one person can say “yes, my life is better for having read that,” then it has been of value. And, of course, that one person is already here. That person is me.

So, fear not! I will be speaking words of wisdom and interest, sharing parts of my life that ultimately contribute to a more peaceful life, and a more satisfying one. I will not be telling you what I had for breakfast, or how long it takes to walk from my room to the toilet (well, unless I can think of a good reason to…).

For you see, it is a thrilling thing to watch as life goes on without you. It is humbling, for indeed, life does go on. It is not that it doesn’t miss you, just that it cannot stop because of it. It must miss you and move on, as all of us must.

It is watching life, without interfering, that shows life’s value. When we are involved, there is too much at stake, too much personal attachment invested. Without ourselves or our loved ones to worry about, we can see with new eyes, the beauty of life, the magic and wonder. So I beg you, lose yourself from time to time, you are not so important.

It is comforting to know life will be ok, that my end will not be life’s end. There is something bigger at work, and I only hope that people see it before it is too late.

Physicists say that the act of observing changes what is observed. It certainly changes me when I am the observer.

A view is important, I realize now, a place to watch from safety and comfort. It is freeing, to watch life and let go of myself, as if all things are one, and there is no ‘I’ that sits watching as life carries on.