Tomorrow is Steve’s birthday.
Because I write this blog, a lot of what is covered centres on my story. But while I write and subject myself to guinea pig trials, Steve is consistently working away on his film business. It’s impressive in itself that he’s been able to do this on the road, but even more so when you look at what he and the other members of Planetary Collective have managed to achieve. It blows my mind.
So, in honour of the man who I think is the best of this universe’s people, I’d like to shout a little about some of what he’s achieved this past year gone by. Read more
Continuing with our guest post series, here is one of my favourite bloggers, Kim Dinan of So Many Places, and her take on the words ‘Life the life you want to, not the one you think you should.
When I was younger my mom drilled me with a single lesson: by the time I reached the age of 30 I should have a good career and all that came with it (money, house- you know the trappings). By that ancient age (30 definitely felt ancient to a 16-year-old kid), my mom assured me, it was crucial that my life was assembled in such a way that I could easily shoot through my working life and position myself comfortably for retirement.
Security, she insisted, should be valued above all else.
Steve’s beard is made of ice and the snow is dancing to the shape of the wind. We smile, enchanted by the magic of winter.
We’re arrived to the first snowfall of the season, the Finns delighting in relief from the darkness. It was a black Christmas in Helsinki, a rare and unwelcome occurrence. Winter suits this city. It lights the streets and makes a playground of nature. Its sea, lakes and rivers harden for the skaters, the hills become toboggan slopes and the intrepid bring out their skis. Read more
I’m writing this with some homemade cookies and a coffee complete with milk. Dairy, wheat, caffeine, sugar, it’s all there and it’s glorious.
I’ve been in rebellion mode for a month now. Two months of austerity in Ubud came to a crashing close at the Writers and Readers Festival where the arrival of the literary elite pushed away my health experiments and made way for wine, coffee and cake.
I was meant to introduce things slowly, check one by one to see what, if anything, I was allergic to. Instead, I went to an opening party, saw free wine and cake and said “f*ck it” to the whole darn thing. Free wine in a country where it costs at least $25 a bottle, coupled with my favourite of all foodstuffs?! The diet had no chance.
But did I regret it? Read more
I wrote this post a few months ago in Ubud but never got round to publishing it. It, and its conclusion next week, will be the last of the “Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it” series, at least for the time being.
My trip to the applied kinesiologist inspired a rage inside that surprised me. I felt furious, and I couldn’t say for sure why. Was it because he gave me a diagnosis I didn’t want to hear? Or was it because I was mad at him for giving me a prescription based on something so seemingly ludicrous?
If I knew for sure that applied kinesiology (AK) was a quack job then the latter would be easy to go with, but I don’t know that so I’m left with a lingering “what if?”. What if there is something to what he said? Read more
At the top of this page under the title, we have the words “Live the life you want to, not the life you think you should”. It’s a sentiment we try to embody, and one that seems to resonate with lots of people. When some fellow and favourite writers started asking if we accepted guest posts, we initially weren’t sure how to approach it. We wanted to feature their writing, but how best to do it? We found our answer in the strapline. So here begins the first of our guest post series where talented writers respond to our mantra: “Live the life you want to, not the life you think you should”. We hope you enjoy it. Read more
“Where’s home for you now?” said Olly as we strolled along the South Bank, catching up on almost 20 month’s absence on a path we’ve walked countless times before.
It’s one of my favourite places in London, the walk from London Bridge to Waterloo along the river, past Borough Market, St.Paul’s, the Tate, the theatres and with Big Ben glowing in the distance.
When I was at university, riding the bus across the river at night filled me with awe at the magnificence of the city and the millions of lives that breathed within it. I was one of those lives. I called the city home for ten years and it still holds a house in my name and is the city I know the best. It’s where I chose to step out alone and build my own life. I love it, but would I call it home? Read more
When I first heard about Per, he sounded like an archetypal compulsive liar, full of the tallest of tales that would put to shame Frank Abagnale Jr. In a town like Ubud, you have to have your bullshit detector on.
Then I met him, and the doubts were gone. This man, the youngest of ten from Tibetan and Indonesian descent, has gone from being entrepreneur of the year in the Netherlands to a sought-after healer in Indonesia, via a winding route of meetings with world leaders and time in psychic schools. He’s involved in a movement called Deep Democracy and his mission is to bring peace to South-East Asia, most significantly Tibet. He’s a man brimming with compassion rather than lies. Read more
I woke up that morning, fed up and tired with this journey. The rats had returned to the ceiling, causing another disrupted night’s sleep while they played gymnastics above our heads, the thin plaster amplifying their patter to the sound of elephants’ hooves. Tonight we’d have to re-plug in the sonic repeller, pushing aside any worries about its effects on our consciousness. Sleep was more important.
Without sleep, everything feels heavier. A glorious day turns bleak and infuriation gives rise to the unreasonable. “Maybe we need to find another house, or maybe it would be easier to just go home earlier?” “Let’s look into it.” Read more
You may be starting to wonder if I’m going to come across something I don’t enjoy in this series – well here’s the first one.
It started badly with a gaze that lasted too long. You know the type. You say your hellos and then they proceed to look deep into your eyes, nodding their head slightly, perhaps with a little ‘hmmmm’, as if to acknowledge some inscrutable truth that’s been passed between you. I’m all up for eye contact, but the lingering’s a step too far. Read more