arroganceSo this actually happened.

I’m a cafe surfer. I like the culture at most cafe’s for selfish reasons.
One being, I enjoy the crossfire of thoughts, flying through the battlefield of egos.

I’m always there inconspicuously, although the staff know me as a regular customer, I’m just a street walk in otherwise, in stealth mode.

They’re usually very confined spaces and it’s hard not to overhear fellow customers.

What I noticed is that people who busy themselves with something never have time for being arrogant.

The ones that busy themselves with serving others especially.

I went into a cafe yesterday and although I love their beans, the vibe was so filled with arrogance, you could walk out of the store and feel a strange calmness overcome you. Walk back in and the vibe was there again.

This wasn’t the first time I felt that way at their particular store.

They have another flagship store and I absolutely adore it and their staff, but this store, even though company owned, has some of the best beans in Australia and have been around for a while, was not on par.

From the minute I entered, the snares of waiters to the sideways look of the barista who was trying to be a revived version of Betty Crocker, maybe Betty Boo from head to toe, to be an image of something other than a barista, or perhaps she was the hipster barista, either way, her coffee making did not match her looks.

Funny enough, the store was not that busy at all compared to the other flagship store I usually visit.

I proceeded to order, tried to even compliment her on her look, because I hate the vibes of a person to be anything other than happy to make my food or coffee.
It didn’t seem to matter as she was too busy trying to matter…..visually.

Her coffee, despite the great beans was average, served to me in haste, dropped on my table like it was a weight of burden carried by the waiter, not a word from him either.
Usual culture at coffee houses, is the waiter explains the origin of the bean (speciality coffee roasters all do this) if you have a double ristretto or espresso with a single origin bean.

Doesn’t matter to me, I smiled said thank you but couldn’t get the ‘you’ out before the waiter was already racing back to the homeland to fetch my Persian ‘love cake’ and dump it on my table.
Followed by a dumped piccolo again, with no communication, no greeting, nothing.

Now I am not in the business of shaming places by calling out their names, so I won’t do it here either.

But I have experienced superior service from their other store which caused me to reflect. Why was the other store so inviting and warm, great coffee and vibes, whilst this one had all that negative energy?

There were a few factors I could think of.

The barista who usually sets the mood was foul faced, foul mooded and dry. She didn’t have any warmth about her, too stiff, too proud showing her dolled up appearance to actually worry about service and being warm with a customer ( I also buy their beans religiously for my own home consumption and their online service is outstanding).

She set the tone for the others who seemed to be answering to her, perhaps she was also the manager.

Staff were extremely bland faced and uninterested in doing anything other than walking back and forth with orders.

The store was not that busy for them to be so detached, which brings me to my next point. They were not that busy customer wise which made them busy with their own selves, displaying their ego’s instead. They had time to be arrogant.

Their other store was so busy, too busy catering to the ego’s of customers that they had no time to focus on their appearance, had no time for frivolities, their baristas humble, smiling even though constantly pressured in a high turn over environment.
Their waiters, greeting and understanding to the high demand, walking out to greet you, find you a place, sit you down and know you by name!

Their coffee was far superior too (same beans and machines), but I guess the layman looking barista actually refined his skills with his hands rather than his character play (yeah, she looked like a cosplay character) image.

Now, some of you may ask, but aren’t you manifesting your ego too Wes, aren’t you in reality expecting something for yourself that you’re actually accusing staff of doing, i.e. being arrogant, being expectant, holding yourself to higher ideals than just an average customer? And you would be correct to ask, who knows, I probably am.

But I’m the one who was smiling at them, complimenting them, thanking them, trying to be as civil and pleasant as possible to urge a vibe out of them so I can eat my food and drink my coffee pleasantly.

I’m paranoid like that. What you make with your hands or others hands, and the vibe you carry whilst making it, transfers to your body and in turn your persona.

Bitter mothers, have bitter kids, sick kids because there is no blessing and goodness in the food they make.

If you think food is inanimate and it is lifelessly just a breakdown of macro-nutrients and other elements, then you’re too far gone to know any better. You need to detox your body and mind and come back to a connectedness and understanding of the purpose of food.

So I care about how I receive food and drink.

As a business, you should also care about how you offer it to your customers, it will determine how they feel when they taste your food and in turn when they leave your premises and what vibe they take with them.

In the end, I couldn’t drink the coffee fast enough, and only ate half of the cake.
I had no time for people who had too much time.
I didn’t want to become arrogant like them, although I think by writing this, the damage is done, here I am prattling about having no time for arrogance and yet I have wasted fifteen minutes being arrogant.

You see what I mean? It’s a vicious cycle.

Have no time for arrogance, busy yourself with what is important to your day to day activities.

Ego, Junior isn’t the most important person in the world.

Junior gets no ego prodding from me.

We have to stop with this culture of building frail human beings.

You suck, there’s nothing wrong with being told that.

The quack psychologist who developed the bogus theories that children need constant coaxing of their egos is probably the most dysfunctional human being ever.

Children don’t need ego coaxing, they need to be told the truth so they don’t grow up to be flimsy and ridiculous non contributors to society.

This culture of putting junior first, before mum and dad, before grandparents, before teachers and neighbours, elders and so on, is creating severe dysfunction.

Adults, well into their thirties, some forties, flimsy and unable to stand up and rectify themselves, who flop at the first hiding life gives them, the first heartbreak a man or woman gives them, the first yelling an employer gives them.

‘You can’t talk to me like that!’ The ego quips.

‘I’m an individual, I’m special, mum and dad told me I’m precious’, all subconscious thoughts rearing their heads, sometimes manifesting in speech if the ego is big enough.

Junior storms out of their first job, because their boss told them to get off Facebook, in juniors words, not because they told them to get off, but because they were so mean.

If your child draws something crap, sure, you don’t have to tell them it’s utterly useless junk, but you do have to wake them out of their slumber. Explain symmetry, explain, balance, explain the appropriate colours, pink trees don’t cut it in the real world.

Explain that cars aren’t houses on wheels, sit with them and show them how to draw what is actually there, what they actually properly see and not to try and take shortcuts over and over again because you keep saying wow to junior.

When junior is horrible at addition, tell them they need to get off their I-Pad and if needs be break it in front of them. Don’t worry, their heart will be broken for a day, but it’s better than their life broken at  eighteen because they suck at addition when giving customers the wrong change constantly at their first job.

When they can’t spell or complete a sentence or read more than a page without complaining of a headache, don’t give in because you feel that you might be causing them psychological problems, the opposite is true, by you giving in, you’re destroying their psychological make up for their future.

At the first hint of difficulty in real world situations, marriage, work, social circles etc, they will just give up. They make for shitty spouses, employees and friends, always a spoiled brat, thinking the world owes them a pass, a stick for encouragement because teacher never told them they sucked and mum and dad always told them they’re the best and love them no matter what.

No, not true, if my son murdered someone, he can rot in jail and I would feel no remorse. The rights of other human beings and society at large is more important than my sons ego, or mine for that matter.

Truth is truth, falsehood is falsehood and ego’s will tell you otherwise, they’ll always find a justification.

Quit being a sook yourself lest you keep breeding generations after generations of sooks, brats and egotistical maniacs.


Layla’s Soul


“Close your eyes”, he said.

“Why?” Layla asked.

“Don’t you want to find yourself?”

“Yes, I do, I don’t want to live like this any more”.

“Then close your eyes and trust me.”

Sufyan was fifteen years Layla’s senior but he may has well been fifty years.

“I want you to imagine that you are in a desert. You’ve been walking for a day and thirteen hours holding on to your camel skin of water which only has enough for one last mouthful. You think to yourself that you better drink it soon otherwise it will evaporate from the heat, now that would be a waste. So you open your compartment only to find your mind wasn’t fast enough, that damn heat has got your mind slower than usual. There’s no water left. Suddenly just that thought alone made you double as thirsty, your knees immediately buckle as your heart feels fifty kilograms heavier with the thought. You catch yourself from falling to the ground as you remember the scabs on your thighs from sun exposure will only burn more as the sand grazes upon them. There’s no use crying, the wind will burn dry the salt on your face in a few short seconds. Your feet also feel heavier as you struggle to continue on.

Before you left, there were at least ten guides waiting for their services to be hired.
You thought you were clever, that you’d never get lost. You thought you want to be in charge of your own adventure. Now, you’d take it all back. After a day and a half, you’ve lost your ego somewhere ten kilometres ago. It didn’t take long, faced with the fear of complete uncertainty, complete banishment and complete starvation. The heat may as well have been a bonfire you were thrown into yesterday, at least the cooking would have been quicker, the cooking of your ego.

Have you got all that in your mind? Can you taste the salt on your lips, no in the back of your throat, scratching it? Can you feel your toe skin peel off but the pain has been there for so long as you step into the hot sand that you’re numb to the actual pain but just feel the squishing of blood between your toes? Can you feel the acid in your thighs as you struggle to lift them out of the dry quicksand that seems intent on creating a grave for you with every step? Can you feel it all?”

Layla nodded her head.

“Ok then, open your eyes.”

Her mascara was streaming down her face. Sufyan was nowhere to be seen. She understood what was meant by his words. Sufyan was Khidr, the mystical figure that appears to the sincere, to the ones whom God loves and wants to bring closer to him.

We walk around with pride, arrogance, ignorance and ego. We want to take the path less trodden, we fantasise and romanticise, make excuses to justify our defiance and call it seeking the adventure but the adventure leaves a lot of souls stranded as they struggle to make it all work, to find their way.

The experience of the masters are there for the taking. You can be taken by the hand and guided through the desert storms of life. You can be shown the quicker routes to your fulfilment, to comprehension of yourself, Your SELF. But instead you squander and belittle your opportunities in naivety, assuming you are clever enough, and most people are but they suffer a lot for it for far too long.

What if you could short track all of that? Wouldn’t it make more sense to find yourself early and then come back and revisit whatever it is you want to, be as adventurous as you want with your life whilst having a base map of where and how to go about?

By fine tuning your compass and ensuring you always have a camel skin of water to quench your thirst.

Paranoid coward or Prepared braveheart?


I am a barbarian

Always on my toes

Psychopathic perhaps

Paranoid prose

Always with my left fist clenched

Creating ‘what if’ scenarios

Whilst my right hand is open palmed

Ready to shake hands with foes

The choice is yours

I won’t make the first move

Be careful, you’ve been warned

Wisely choose


The fact is I question myself and my behaviour a lot. My wife thinks I am cute and adorable, only my mother shares the same sentiment. But they both say that to the outside world I am damn intimidating.

Am I grotesque? Hardly. Am I vulgar? Unless you’ve harmed me physically or any of my family or friends, you’ll never know what’s going to hit you. I have extremes that are so far fetched of so far fetched.

So what is it that makes me intimidating? My children plant kisses on me until I have to peel them off, they don’t seem phased.

For one, I am relentless. I will push the extremes of everything on to myself. I will flog the horse of my ego until it bleeds it’s last drop dry, then I’ll throw it aside like it never helped me at all and proceed to ride my next horse ego until it dies. I’ll always find a horse.

Maybe it’s too much to contain and people flee from it at it’s first signs of exposure, in a conversation where you’re trying to belittle someone, trying to judge someone, trying to stereotype someone or trying to lie. I’m a hound and will sniff your lie out before the mist spray of your breath exhales the consonants.

Maybe it seeps out when you feel a little of my physicality as I wrestle your ego down swiftly with what I assume is a normal gaze but my wife thinks is a death stare?

Maybe it leaks when I feel the presence of evil in a room and I am the first to stand behind it ready to slit it’s throat to protect everyone around me.

I fucking hate this feeling but I cannot get rid of it. I don’t want to scare people. I don’t want to turn them away but paradoxically I don’t want them near me either. I am ok and confident in my solitude, I just don’t want others to feel intimidated in my presence.

My teacher once told me to quit fighting because you tend to walk around with your hands up. I should have listened to him. But it’s a part of me. I have never hurt a soul that didn’t deserve it, I can’t put my guard down for now. Maybe my arms will grow weary and my mind will be too punch drunk to be so paranoid but for now, I’ve got the wrong set of shoulders to bump into in the street but I do have the right set of hands to fix that, one’s a closed fist and the other is an open palm, you choose as I won’t make the first move.

Liar Liar Soul on fire.

soul for sale


I won’t lie

I’m like everyone else

My soul is for sale

The highest bidder hasn’t even reached half the reserve


Who are we kidding? The right person with the right words, with the right mind, with the right touch for all the wrong reasons and you could be sold for a few pennies.

Let’s be brutally honest and stop regurgitating this cliché. We all have that spot, somewhere or something inside of us that if it is found puts down all our defences.

I have experienced it with the most hostile of souls and the most gentle. Everyone has something about them.

The problem is, the navigators of the human soul have become few and far between.

I’m a rebel without a cause in most of my pursuits.

Authority? I stick a big proverbial in their face.
Law? What law?
Sensitivities of humans? Push me and I’ll tear you down in a heartbeat.
You want to get physical? I’ll hit you seven ways before your anger has fettered to your fists as I’m on my toes all the time.

It’s hard to tell my stubborn ego what to do.
But one look from my teachers and I melt.
They bought me and have me shackled, key thrown away rusted chains to my ankles, anchor me to humility in their presence.

They know how to spear my heart from all vain desires with a line of prose or an anecdote of a master sage.

What did they pay for my capture?

A smile.

I love you teachers.

May God sanctify your secrets.

In loving memory of her, who gave me the lantern niche illumed with oils and lit the flame for me to see the way to him.

Him, who carries the torch with love and forbearance, with patience to my folly until the day where my ego can finally be slain a mighty death on the alter of the masters before me.



What if we had those conversations

even if only in our imaginations


between each other that might unite our nations?


of societies trivialisations

touching probing, questioning,  discussing agreeing, disagreeing but opening up the discoursation

an invitation

to awakening from hibernation

to unhinge our inclinations

to egotism and trepidation

to one another

to humanisation

of the other.

We talk over, through and past one another, it’s time to talk TO each other.