300 Words a Day - #16 - A Message for You

“Don’t fall for the trick.

You’re not alone.

You never have been.

You never will be.

I know it’s easy for you to think you’re in a one-I show.

Your pain feels so personal.

So close.

But I will say it again,

You’re not alone.

‘Then show me,’ I hear you say.

I do.

I am.

Every moment of you, I am.

You’re linked to me, like breeze to a fan.

Scent to a flower.

Rays to the sun.

It’s only your way of perceiving yourself that you mistake me for someone else.

Some thing else.

When all is us.

You thought you were this minuscule piece of star dust?

Please… 

Give yourself a break.

The only reason you can’t think of yourself as being bigger than who you think you are, is because you can’t think that which is beyond thought.

The thought basket is too small for you.

You can’t fit in.

But I’ll give you credit, because you really do try.

And as a result, you suffer.

I’m not asking you to believe me.

I don’t want you to believe me.

I want you to find out for yourself.

To know.

You feel unloved?

You’re listening to the wrong voice.

You’re scared of death?

You’re paying attention to the wrong images.

Everything is going to be fine.

You don’t even have to trust me.

You will see.

But you can choose to see before you are confronted with your fears, and they give rise to seeing.

Have you noticed that when you confront a fear it evaporates?

And you think, ‘What was I scared for?’

You’re on the right track.

I just wanted to take this opportunity to remind you:

I’m here because you are.

Now hold that head up high and shine our light.

Love.”

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300 Words a Day - #12 - Volunteering at a Hospice

I used to volunteer at my local hospice.

Me, along with several other volunteers, would wheel a trolley of drinks down the wards, knocking on doors and seeing who wanted a biscuit and cup of tea or coffee.

I think I did it for four years.

I met some amazing people in that place.

The staff.

The patients.

The families.

And I can’t forget my fellow volunteers.

Some might perceive volunteering at a hospice to be a source of anxiety, but I never experienced anxiety.

99.9% of the time I would say a cloud of calm hung over the building.

I saw how the staff were with the patients; how they talked to them (even when the patients were unconscious), how they walked them to the toilets, how they fed them and dressed them and cleaned them and comforted them with their open hearts, full of compassion. 

It takes a special individual to do that.

We can become numb to almost anything, but we’re never numb to love.

Some might seem it, but take a good chisel to their shell with an open heart, and watch that shell break into a thousand pieces.

Some of us take longer to trust than others. 

Our shells can seem impenetrable. 

We’ve had years and years, decades, of adding layer upon layer of conditioning and suffering, and adding strength to it all by identifying with it.

Many of us refuse help because without our suffering, who are we?

We can ask for help, believing that asking is all it takes to be fixed, but when the help comes we resist it. 

It’s okay to allow ourselves to be helped - cared for.

It’s not a sign of weakness, for to ask for help we first have to acknowledge our suffering, which requires strength. 

Ask away.

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300 Words a Day - #5 - Stubborn Little Ant

It’s morning. 

I’m in Taipei’s subway.

I’ve just squeezed out of the train.

I’m enjoying breathing and moving my limbs.

So many people. I swear there’re more and more of us.

I’ve been in Taiwan for two and a half years and I find myself thinking, “It wasn’t like this when I first came here.”

It probably was.

I’m walking towards my exit, then something happens.

A shift.

I feel like I’m the only person walking in this direction. 

I’m the stubborn ant, refusing to fall in line.

The wave going against the tide.

An ocean of bodies, waves and waves of them, appear in my field of vision.

Where did you all come from?

I’m in awe.

People.

There are people here.

I can see them.

I can really see them.

“Look at you all.”

…

I can feel a liquid heat rising, from my feet to my chest.

To my throat.

I swallow and bite my lip and suppress a smile.

I’ve seen those who are smiling for no apparent reason; passersby stare at them from the corners of their eyes.

“Just ignore them… don’t stare.”

I’ve even done that myself. 

No trust in a causeless love.

But people aren’t noticing me.

I’m hiding this swelling of emotion like a pro.

Every movement made, every blink, smile, frown, crease of the forehead, you name it, it all absorbs my attention, like I’m watching a flower bloom for the first and last time.

I’m in love.

An inexhaustible ocean of it.

The lump in the throat moves north.

I need to control this.

It’s in the eyes now.

I take a deep inhale, and an extra long exhale.

Now I’m outside, still swimming. 

So is everybody else…

But they don’t know it.

Somebody smiles at me.

Keep walking, don’t stare.

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Being Birdman

Like a lot of people, I thought the film Birdman was great. Michael Keaton gave a fantastic performance. I thought the script was quirky and the way it was shot was very cleverly done.

What I wasn't expecting from the film was for it to be intertwined with aspects of spirituality... and blatantly so, too. 

Michael Keaton's dressing room mirror had a little note on it saying, 'A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing', which was exactly what I was getting at in my book The Girl with the Green-Tinted Hair. In one scene he goes and gives a critic an intense lecture about how much she and people like her suck. He holds up a rose and says something like, "You have no idea what this is, do you!" 

It felt great to see such clear messages in a Hollywood movie.

Towards the end he says along the lines of, 'I don't even exist. I'm not even here,' (sorry I can't remember it word for word) and then goes on to shoot himself.

(I don't think I've given away too much...)

The reason I'm writing about this is that his realisation that he didn't exist should've been an enlightening experiencing. Only an unsteady mind would go on to try and terminate itself after having such an insight.

The truth of the matter is, in order to know who you are, you - that is, the you who you think you are - has to step aside and cease to be. Your whole personality, with all of its past and achievements, becomes transparent the moment you're truly Being. It sounds daunting and to some it will seem terrifying, but it's nothing but liberating.

I'm speaking from experience here. The thing is with me, I keep coming back and playing the role of Gavin Whyte. 

Why, if it's so liberating, do I keep coming back to the little me who I think I am? 

Because it's a habit.

It's the biggest habit I have and I'm forever going back and forth, back and forth, in and out of the game.

But I'm telling you, the moment you see through this habit of thinking that you know who you are, and playing the role that everybody knows and loves; when you become one without an identity, when you see that you are the silent witness, you will know in an instant who the real you is and you will be transformed. 

A glimmer of light will have got in and you will not be able to turn your back on it from then on.

No drastic change in your external life has to happen, although, I bet you will be drawn to reading spiritual books and texts, and begin practicing meditation or other techniques that allow you to go within.

Not knowing who you are sounds scary to the habitual you because it feels like it needs it to survive in the world. But it doesn't. You will at once step back and see through the illusory you and see through all of that with which you once identified with. 

You may laugh. You may cry with joy. You will at once be finally in love.

You will not put a gun to your head because you'll know that suicide is the ultimate waste of time. You will know that you're not your body, so destroying it isn't going to do a thing apart from get you a new ride. You will know this. It will all become clear.

Don't go looking for that which you are... look at what you're not. 

Tick things off the list, one by one.

You will come to the conclusion that anything that you're aware of is not you.

Birdman has the subtitle The Unexpected Virtues of Ignorance. It points to the life we have lived for millenia. It's amazing to see what we have accomplished through not knowing. But our ignorance is still with us, causing us stress, depression, doubt, grief and fear. Only when our ignorance is diminished will we truly begin to see The Unexpected Virtues of Being, and our fear and the rest of our burdens will be lifted.

(Go and see Birdman... it's a treat).

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A Safety-net Underfoot

A safety-net is a wonderful thing.

It brings comfort and stability to that part of ourselves that fears putting one foot into the unknown. 

But if we look closer we see that a safety-net is actually woven with threads of fear.

Not only that, but because the net is full of huge gaping holes, it's incredibly hard to move forward. 

When we can't move forward, we hinder our growth.

And when we hinder our growth life can become insipid.

For me, that's the ultimate sin.

The reason I'm nattering on about safety nets is because many people have said that my recent move to Taiwan was courageous and I'm always genuinely amazed by the remark.

With not being a traveler, my comfort zone has been stretched more than it ever has been in 31 years, but bravery didn't enter the equation for one specific reason.

And that reason was Love.

Yes, yes, I know I've plunged into the ocean of sentimental cheesy-ness, but hear me out;

The only reason I moved to Taiwan was because I was - and am - in love with a beautiful girl. It was because of her that I didn't feel I was being brave when I decided to move, for the simple fact that I just decided to move.

That's the important bit:

I just decided to move.

I just moved.

I just did it.

I made the decision and stuck to it.

My safety-net was my previous job with it's stable income, but with that now gone I'm left to find a new balance in a new land. And this didn't bother me because I was motivated by Love.

With a sense of Love, everything seems possible.

With a sense of Love, when you step forward on your net of comfort and stability, the gaping holes are filled with an invisible force that holds you upright.

I don't mean for the word Love to be limited between two people. For me, self-love comes first and then only with that Love of yourself are you able to Love another and see how carrying Love within you can change your world. 

If you're driven by some artistic intent and every cell in your body is bursting with the desire to create, and then all of a sudden life presents you with an opportunity that will undoubtedly drag your safety-net from under your feet, you will go for it. (You would be foolish not to!) When you go for it you won't think you're being brave. You'll just do it because you're driven by Love.

A Love to create. 

A Love to follow your desire. 

Your dream. 

Your gut instinct.

Your calling.

Yes, you might feel nervous, but that's just the vibrations of your safety net being stretched.

It's normal.

Nerves tell us that were're having an experience that we sense is a threat to our being, but more often than not it's no threat whatsoever - it's just growth.

Love is the ultimate safety-net.

Step forward and see what happens - in my case, Taiwan happened.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

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Old Dog - New Tricks

I'm not one to shy away from a challenge.

It's for this reason that I've taken it upon myself to learn Mandarin.

Not only do I intend to learn Mandarin, but I'm putting aside the romanisation system known as pinyin and focusing on the traditional characters and way of reading them, known as Zhuyin.

Why would I put myself through such torture at the age of 30?

After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, right?

Wrong.

You can teach a dog new tricks if it's willing to learn them, regardless of its age.

Language has never been my strong point (the irony of a writer, I guess). I didn't start speaking till I was four years old. My parents said I made up my own language, and in my sleep I spoke in tongues. At school I hated studying French and German - opting to focus on German as I found it resembled English that little bit more.

So why have I decided to learn Mandarin, when I thought I had put all the 'language learning days' behind me?

I mean, I've always been drawn to the East. I've been a martial arts buff since I was knee-high. Bruce Lee has been my idol for as long as I can remember - even more so when I started to read his books and understand him as a philosopher, rather than a guy who only kicks ass on screen.

(Growing up, I knew my Nan shared the same birthday as Bruce Lee. I told her and she found it quite amusing and I found it cool. When she died in July, the date seemed somewhat familiar to me. And the reason was because she died on the same day as Bruce Lee, too. It may mean nothing, but to me it forges a connection to the guy who still inspires me to this day.)

Because of Mr Lee, I was drawn to Eastern thought and philosophy. I enjoyed watching documentaries about the East and even loved watching the Chinese cooking programs. I started drinking green tea before I was 10. And I've always found a bowl of plain rice really comforting!

So, I will ask again: why have I decided to learn Mandarin?

The answer can be reduced to four words.

I fell in love.

It's as simple as that.

Not only did I fall in love, but I fell in love with a girl who I met whilst living in a Buddhist Center and she was visiting the UK from . . . Taiwan.

Out of duty, she went back to her land far, far away and we intend to be with each other before this year is through.

So it is love that is my driving force. It is love that inspires me and eradicates all the fear and doubt I ever had about learning a new language. And the best thing is, I'm loving it. I'm truly enjoying the [slow] learning process that I've undertaken. I'm fascinated by Mandarin and how it all works. I'm fascinated by Taiwan and its history and its people.

And the more I learn the more I feel like I'm reminding myself of something which has always been within me.

I don't know about reincarnation or past lives (it makes sense if we consider that life has no beginning and no end) but it would explain my pull to the East.

As my girlfriend said, 'I feel like I've come to bring you home.'

And that's exactly why this old dog is wagging his tail.

(I know that most of you who are past your thirties will argue that 30 is young - but I'm afraid we in our thirties won't listen to you.)

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk