unflushable

first few photos from vanuatu before we move on to north america ;)

it is the human condition to be tortured by insecurities. to be racked and wracked. to be smitten; to be smote. to my mind this has evolved to ensure that individuals stay within the group. totally secure, psychologically healthy and happy people would be prone to wandering off into the savannah, only to be disemboweled by nature's latest iteration of a sabre-tooth tiger. our predecessors - unsure of themselves - cowered together at the cave trying to reassure each other and themselves that their arses weren't too big, cocks too small, tits too unequal, personalities too boring, jokes too unfunny, intelligence too dull, achievements too lack-lustre and so forth. in-so-cowering, they survived, only to hoist this judas of a psychological inheritance upon a modern people that are now drowning in an ocean of freudian defense mechanisms, and funding a $400 billion global advertising industry that removes the need for us to generate insecurities by generating them for us. 

i've been labouring under the delusion that i am at terms with my insecurities, and the last few years i have been laying siege to my impenetrable fortress of an ego, which - despite this endless trojanesque war - remains as untouched and indestructible as it has ever been.

before leaving for north america, i had arrived at a realisation that the necessary flip-side of letting go of one's sense of self-importance is quite simply being kind to others. not just passively kind, but actively kind. seeking opportunities for kindness and acting upon them. this was largely prompted by an article iva sent me (link) in which an old man speaks of missed opportunities for kindness as the one thing he regretted most in his life. i wept for the truth of it, and when i considered those in my life that had touched me the most deeply, or those that i loved the most, they were indeed those that had shown me the greatest kindness.

so with this in mind, off i went to north america. montreal, new york, san francisco. i'm not going to talk about what i actually did. suffice to say that despite initial reservations (a hangover from my left-leaning bourgeois (white-trash) adolescence in which i was fed (and subsequently regurgitated) an all-you-can-eat diet of anti-american sentiment that i have since identified as pertaining to a collective australian nation-defining insecurity), i was pleasantly - and absolutely - surprised by what i experienced. i was disarmed by the north american openness of spirit, the friendliness and acceptance of difference. i was dazzled by their pride in achievement, and a culture in which brilliance is not just permitted, but celebrated. i found a kindness that humbled me. i found something to be admired and lauded, and perhaps even something worth fighting for. i was enthralled, enraptured, captivated and bewitched by north america and her gentlemen. and yes, i fell in love. i fell in love with north america...

...and her gentlemen.  

but the real journey, as always, occurred within.

for years i have been travelling with the almost singular purpose of socratically knowing myself. this journey is called life and it appears to continue until the day you die - thank goodness - and travelling has always seemed to me a way to accelerate the acquisition of knowledge that life has to offer about who you truly are: by yourself, out of your comfort zone, alone.

i've always been slightly irked by my self-love (an affair that rivals any hollywood romance). i felt that it was a slightly embarrassing barrier to loving others and living in the moment. what i didn't realise, and what i learnt on my vacation, was that my so-called self-love was conditional. that love - perhaps the most important love of all - hinged on my being a perfect version of myself. my imperfections and weaknesses would have to be corrected or ignored, and the ondrej that manifested those imperfections and weaknesses was someone that i didn't so much hate as felt ashamed of. deeply ashamed. 

according to brené brown, (and i encourage you to click on her name and watch the linked video), shame is universal, and can be understood as the fear of disconnection: if people know or see the things about us that we are ashamed of, we fear that we will be judged to be unworthy of love and connection (the only damn thing that matters in this life). 

when i talk about shame, i'm not talking about the dirty secret of what you did in the sandpit with lucy o'donnell when you were 10 years old, or the crazy aunty that has been shut up in the attic since god knows when, i'm talking about the feelings that underpin all of our insecurities. you know when you give a talk or a handover and you mess something up or you get asked questions that you simply don't know the answer to and you leave with that humiliating, excruciating feeling that you're not good enough? the one that leaves you feeling sick to the stomach, doubting your worth as an individual and unable to sleep? you know when you go to a party and everyone seems to be laughing and having a good time and you can't think of a single thing to say to anyone and you leave with that humiliating, excruciating feeling that you are not interesting enough? you know when you go swimming and everyone else in the pool or change room has a perfectly muscled body, big tits or dick, tight buns and tan and you go home with that humiliating, excruciating feeling that you are not beautiful enough? this is shame. it is shame because it is not based on anything external but on our own deep-seated insecurities that we are not enough.

we fear that if we show people who we truly are - if we stand before them in our nakedness, in our weakness, in our imperfection, they would not see the richness that we know exists in there somewhere (a richness that we so desperately want others to see), but poverty. they would see someone who is not big enough, not smart enough, not beautiful enough, not interesting enough, not funny enough, not good enough. we would be judged to be simply not enough, and rejected, thrown on a scrapheap of human emotion, somewhere well outside the orbit of love and connection that holds us all together.

rather than an end-point, this realisation was the beginning of my true journey. a journey into vulnerability. this, apparently, is the antidote to shame. 

i like to think that i'm an authentic representation of who i truly am - i'm sure we all do - but i probably didn't appreciate just how powerful my shame-based defense mechanisms were. when you start a new job or meet the parents of your lover, or even just someone new at a party or a bus-stop, there's that part of your brain that wants your best side to shine, and prevent the dark side from being seen. you want them to see the perfect version of you. it's like performing spinning plates where you constantly have to run from one plate-topped pole to another to keep them spinning and prevent them from falling and breaking. it's exhausting.   

so what i started practicing on my trip, (and it's practice because it's fucking hard and i'm sure it will take an entire lifetime to get right), is recognising myself for the weak, imperfect person that i am, and trying to love that person a little bit more. not the perfect version that never existed anyway, but the rough and imperfect one that you guys probably know (and perhaps love) more than i do. the next part - even harder, but just as important - was allowing other people to see that person. to lean into vulnerability and present myself to the world not as i wanted to be seen, but as i am. to be truly seen. 

so practice i did. the earth did not crack open. a greek chorus of passers-by did not assemble and start chanting the word 'loser' over and over again as i was swallowed up by a hole in the earth that led all the way to one of dante's seven stages of hell. no, quite the opposite. people responded with kindness...and love. authentic connection was born when i manifested my vulnerability, and through that love and connection, a feeling of (and there's no other word for it): joy. the flipside to allowing yourself to be vulnerable is that you see more clearly the vulnerability in others, and you simply ache with love for them. i do believe that this is the normal human state. to be aching, bursting, exploding with love for the people around us. 

...and what's more, there are no fucking spinning plates to deal with. just the reality that is before you that you can dive into, be present in, soak up and enjoy :)

in my 5 weeks in north america, this is what i found:

i'm not as smart as i thought i was

i'm not as attractive as i thought i was

i'm not as fun or funny as i thought i was

i'm not as big and hard and sexually proficient as i thought i was

i'm not as interesting as i thought i was...

...and yet i feel more love and connection and happiness than ever before.

xo

rant

i'm going to tell you what's going through my head right now, and pepper it with some instagram photos that i've taken in the last 10 months - 10 months in which i haven't blogged. i think that i've been sublimating my blogging instinct into instagramming, so follow me there @hello_ondrej if you're not doing so already!

love. i've been thinking about love. i note that we are a loving species. we don't just love a bit: we are bursting with it. how else could we fit so many millions of individuals into our cities without chaos erupting? we are giddy with love for each other. we all contribute. we pump out the viscous goo of love into our surroundings, and not only does it envelop us with its warmth, it forms the framework with which our societies and ethical paradigms are constructed.

♥ lucas ♥

who among us actually needs a book or a law to tell them not to kill or hurt other people? no-one. our laws and our religions are simply expressions of what we already know to be true from a lifetime of swimming in this thick, heady mix of human hearts and their excruciatingly delectable juices.

this love arises by doing nothing, by just being. the act of spending time with someone is the act of constructing love. it's irresistible. it's inevitable. it just happens. two hearts, side by side, will secrete their perfumes, marinating themselves and each other in the unique product of their combined chemistry, and we call the result of this love. let's recognise it. let's not be ashamed. let's shine like the big fat supernovas of juicy love that we all are. let's blind each other with it. let's have fun with it.

when we're silent - when we have the courage to shut the fuck up and stop creating misunderstanding with meaningless words - our hearts have time to listen, and hear whatever deeper message it is that the other hearts around us are trying to express. this message is amplified through touch, so get out there and touch people. touch the people you love, the people you know, the people you don't know. shake hands with someone and don't let go. put your hand on the shoulder of the person you're talking to. let your legs touch the people beside you on the train. hug people. we all want it more than anything. we're gagging for it. every single human being on this planet is crying out to be touched. i, too, am gagging and crying out, so next time you see me: put your arms around me for god's sake and don't let go. kiss me. hold my hand. squeeze my leg. do us both a favour and tell me to shut the fuck up. i never seem to stop talking, it's ridiculous. let's be silent and love each other.

and of course i must point out: what is sex but an intense, accelerated form of touch? our bodies cannot lie. through the movement of our eyes and lips and hands and limbs and trunks and cocks and cunts, we express truths that are instantly understood, and construct love that is instantly reciprocated. how could anything be more beautiful than that? so get out there and get loving boys and girls*. (*not with me)

sometimes when you are kissing someone, or you are holding someone's hand, or beholding a sunset, or listening to an amazing tune, you are - just for that moment - completely present. i know i've talked about this before, but it's always on my mind. this one moment: that is my god. this one moment is the meaning of life, and being present in this moment - the only thing we will ever have - is my life's deepest desire. it's a struggle. there's so much chatter in this big fat head. but there are so many delicious situations to practice being present in, and a whole lifetime in which to practice.

i'm not sure if i've ever expressed with any clarity my belief system, but i'm on a roll with my ranting, so i may as well just do it now.

my belief is that the universe is fundamentally neutral, that it is completely devoid of objective value. there is no right or wrong, good or bad, better or worse. there is nothing. our lives, our deaths, and anything that may happen between, have no meaning, and any significance we may attribute to anything at all is completely subjective and therefore irrelevant to almost anyone but ourselves. the universe is not cold and distant nor is it warm and friendly - it's just there (or appears to be). it doesn't owe us anything. what we do or don't do, whether we exist or don't exist and anything we may think or feel is inconsequential, value-neutral and nothing.

within this valueless meaninglessness, i exist. everything that i think or understand has been constructed from experiences gained through my fallible and often inaccurate senses, but this is all that i have ever been able to access, and all that i will ever access, and through this i have created a subjective understanding of the world around me. it's all i have, and because there can be no objective reality outside my subjective experience of the world, this little subjective reality suddenly becomes my entire universe - it is in fact the entire universe - and it becomes richly invested with the values that i have projected onto it.

this realisation motivates and liberates one to get out there and do whatever the fuck one wants. the fears that hold one back from having the time of one's life are revealed in the harsh light of logic to lack any significance, and the business of expanding one's subjective universe - the only reality that one will ever have - through all the different experiences that this life has to offer becomes absolutely prime.

this realisation also equalises us all, for in these subjective bubbles of reality that we live in, how could we presume to know what anyone else's experience is, or presume to place a value on anyone else's reality when our own is so objectively meaningless? we must have the same right to life, to be heard, to be loved. if anyone does, we all do. all humans. all beings.

the flip-side of recognising the objective meaninglessness of our lives is accepting that our subjective version of it couldn't be more meaningful - as nothing outside this could possibly exist. and as we have to assume that this is the same for every other individual alive - humans, and animals too if we follow the logic - suddenly we realise that everyone's lives are precious in a way that we could never understand, and it becomes impossible to judge anybody else (which values could you possibly use to judge them that don't apply only to yourself?)

perhaps this humbles us. perhaps this creates respect for others. perhaps we all realise this on an intrinsic level, and it's the fuel that our little hearts use to pump out their love.

mum ♥ watching the sunset on great keppel island

so that's where i'm at right now. i'm trying to be intensely present as i watch the glorious sunsets of central queensland and i stand atop the mountain shooting out green butterfly-shaped visualisations of my love to the world around me, and some of those butterflies are coming straight for you like heat-seeking missiles. this is my truth right now, and if it sounds like yet another rant of ondrej horse-shit, well i love you anyway you mother-fucker - you know i do - and i hope that you enjoyed the photos :)

peace!