300 Words a Day - #11 - A Postman's Self-Image

Many moons ago I attended a conference, that was all about spirituality. 

I was a postman at the time.

When I got to this conference, it didn’t take me long to feel I was out of my depth.

I was surrounded by university professors, teachers, psychologists, counsellors, researchers and the likes of.

And then there was yours truly. 

The power our self-image has on our confidence and outlook on life is truly phenomenal.

God, I felt small.

In my mind I might as well have been wearing a blue shirt, navy trousers, whilst carrying a red bag on my shoulder, and followed everywhere by a black and white cat.

Every time someone stared at me I felt like they could sense something was amiss.

“They can see I’m a fake.”

A suit-wearing man, sitting next to me asked the dreaded question: “So what do you do?”

I couldn’t lie.

“I’m a postman.”

I waited for it.

The dejected, “Oh…”

I used to hate people asking me what I did because I thought I could do better.

(Better only came about because I chose to grab an opportunity to move forward. But better is only better because of personal preference. My current situation isn’t better in the grand scheme of things, it’s just different.)

Being a postman provided me with the space I needed to grow, and I sit here being incredibly grateful for that.

Funnily enough, it was when I began to acknowledge how good it was for me, that opportunities to move on from it arose.

I used to practice mindfulness on delivery and write books in my spare time.

Not many jobs offer the space for that.

Oh, and the folk at the conference concluded that they hadn’t the foggiest idea what spirituality meant.

It’s debatable.

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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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300 Words a Day - #3 - Disappointments

What do you do with disappointment?

Do you allow yourself to be overcome by it, leading to a bout of despair and helplessness, or do you (can you) separate yourself from it, giving you and it space to breathe?

I've had a sting of disappointment recently.

It was my own fault.

I had expectations, and they weren't met.

Expectations...

Why do we have them? They are based on a process that's forever flowing; never stationary.

That’s not safe, nor wise.

Life is forever in flux.

It’s like a tree investing its happiness in summer.

Oh, look… what’s that?

A falling leaf.

Sorry, tree. You were foolish enough to expect summer to grant you forever-lasting happiness.

Trying to find happiness in thinking is just as futile. 

Thoughts come and go, like clouds in the sky, and we only have ourselves to blame when they disappear with the wind.

The mind will do all that the mind does, and it’s up to us to let it.

Stand in its way, and good luck to you.

Resistance is suffering.

It’s laughable when we get all down in the dumps because life didn’t unfold the way we wanted it to.

Who is this we, this I?

The more I go looking, the more I come back empty-handed.

And yet, when expectations aren’t met, I say, “I am disappointed” not, “there is disappointment.”

No room to breathe.

Every time I experience bliss - and I mean true, blissful, present alertness, where everything that is is unconditional love - God - guess who’s absent…

Gavin.

No more individual me. 

No more misidentifying with what isn’t. 

Therefore, my suffering must start with me.

That is, with the thought of I.

Identification with the mind, with thought, is the root cause of suffering.

That’s it.

Identification with what isn’t.

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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 Test . . . How Enlightened Are you?

Well:

If you can live without caffeine or nicotine;

If you can be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains;

If you can resist complaining;

If you can understand when loved ones are too busy to give you any time;

If you can take criticism and blame without resentment;

If you can ignore friends' limited educations and never correct them;

If you can treat the rich and poor alike;

If you can face the world without lies or deceit;

If you can conquer tension without medical help;

If you can relax without liquor;

If you can sleep without the aid of drugs;

If you can have no prejudice against creed, colour, religion, gender, sexual preference, or politics  -

- then you have almost reached the same level of spiritual development as your dog.

Anonymous

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

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Give Your Worries To The Angels

It's only natural that doubt arises when questioning our purpose in life.

What if we're not doing what we're supposed to be doing?

What if we're wasting our time doing something that isn't relevant to our calling?

What if we end up squeezed up to our last breath like in a sardine tin, still not knowing what we were supposed to be doing?

Or even worse, what if our purpose suddenly makes itself known to us as our last breath is released?

That doesn't sound ideal to me.

Whenever I get into this state of uncertainty I become aware of what life is trying to tell. I look out for symbolic smoke signals and signs. So what happened next was I received an email from someone who I had only met twice before whilst training as a bereavement support worker. In the email she asked if I would sign two copies of my book for her. One of them was for herself and the other she had bought as a Christmas gift for a friend.

After signing the books, my friend stressed the fact that the reason she had bought a copy for her friend was because her friend was into angels. I felt like she was drilling this into me. She said it several times. After the meeting I got thinking about my book and how people perceive it. It never really occurred to me that it was a book about angels - when clearly, it is!

Shortly after, when I was alone, I asked the question, 'Am I supposed to be working in the field of angels?'

Kindred Spirit magazine popped into my head, so I went out and bought a copy. I flicked through it and it contained article after article on angels. I was drawn to an article by Jacky Newcomb, who later I found out, she was known as the Angel Lady. I had never heard of her or her books, but I felt an urge to send her a copy of my book - this I did on Christmas eve.

I like to listen to music whilst writing, so whilst out walking I asked out loud 'Should I order an angel CD?' (I had a CD by Llewellyn in mind). I looked to my right and there was a small white feather dancing in the wind in front of me. Now, I'm not at all widely educated on angels, but I know that a white feather is taken as a sign that you have been heard, that you are being watched over and you are not alone.

I have recently ordered the CD by Llewellyn.

Since then, ideas have been pouring in as to what I can write about, and I truly feel that I'm back on track with my calling.

Last night I was at my sister's. She was panicking because she couldn't find a much needed dummy so my one year old niece could fall soundly asleep. I popped out to the local store to see if they had any - but it was Christmas evening - nowhere would be open. I drove back and updated her. In the kitchen I saw her keyring on her keys. It's coin-like and on the outside it says, 'Give your worries to the angels.'

'Help me find a dummy,' I whispered.

'Gav,' said my sister, 'check the ball pool (which my niece had got for Christmas) in the dining room.'

I dipped my hand in the brightly coloured balls and pulled out a dummy. I smiled. 'Thanks,' I said.

That's another thing - I was always told to say thank you when you have been helped or assisted by an ethereal being.

I'm aware of how feminine angels are portrayed, but guys, don't let this put you off.

I don't know what angels are. I don't know who they are. I don't really know how they work, or even if they exist, for that matter!! But I can speak from experience, that something happens when I call on them for help and advice.
  
Take the advice from my sister's keyring - GIVE YOUR WORRIES TO THE ANGELS (just to see what happens). 

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk