Three ways I’ve learned to be calm, yet utterly confident


Like a surgeon, I’ve cut at myself to remove doubt and fear. I liken it to cutting because it takes an utter and relentless, fearlessness to go past your inner comforts, to the place where you lie to yourself over and over and then to stop that lying dead in it’s tracks, by either cutting or fighting it with all you have, to be able to learn calmness and confidence by default.

I’ve done so in three ways.

ONE

I learned about my origins and my end.

If you don’t know who you are or where you’re going, you’re never going to have your compass calibrated. Your navigation will always be off. People can poke fun, mock, sneer at religion as much as they want, but nothing aligns a human in the right direction as good as a decent attachment to a religious practise.

Here’s a shortcut, get busy with learning about the unknown so you don’t fear it and are not anxious about it. The unknown is both everything before you ever were and what will subside when you physically pass from this world.

When  you do, you relinquish the struggle with control and power and give it back to its rightful owner, and make no mistake, that is God, period.

TWO

Secondly, learn how to be alone.

That means occupying yourself with activities that fine tune the frequency of your inner voice, yes even the ones that the quackery of psychiatrists and psychologists have you believing aren’t normal.

We all hear things, we all have inner voices, an ego, a vice that commands at us, entices us to good, evil or both.

Learning how to quell or amplify them is an art and a skill and like all arts and skills they take repetitive engaging in to master. You’ve got grand delusions if you think you can sort yourself out without hours of devotion to your crafts.

Unfortunately, group activities don’t count. Comfort in your own skin and lone time is the only way. Consider it a reset button and dedicate at least 8 to 10 hours a week in total isolation.

THREE

Lastly, expose yourself to dire situations where you are pushed and tested. This can be done in groups or done alone.

In my experience people should partake in a 70/30 split, that is 70 percent of the time doing those dire things alone and 30 percent in a group. They should be physical, spiritual, physiological, and mental.

Examples of physical involve training, sporting endeavours or physical activities that require a high level of output.

The best of them where your physical safety is threatened and I have found no better thing than the fighting arts, be it wrestling, traditional martial arts or boxing.

They involve the greatest violation and the most immediate danger to one’s well being. Getting through the hardships and struggles that come with the aspects of sparring or fighting as well as torturous training if one is dedicated and serious enough, is unmatched.

For the spiritual, it means following with utter sincerity and devotion to the principles of a sound religious practise without fail and if one does fail, they make amends, continue to improve, and resort immediately to re-applying themselves wholeheartedly.

Physiologically, I mean depriving the body of its gluttonous nature. That is, water and food and most especially foods which harm the body, mind and soul.

Further to the normal unhealthy foods one should deprive themselves of, they should make two days a week and at least a month a year by which they totally limit to near nothing the nutrient intake for at least half a day not including sleep time. The benefits of fasting in all it’s applications are too numerous to list and science is in total agreement of the simple ability of fasting to have the most immediate health rewards.

This resets the immune and other physiological systems and keeps unwanted weight off and the mind and body free from ailments.

Lastly the mental. Without a healthy appetite for learning and improving one’s understanding of the world around them, we, as a whole, most especially cerebrally, like all created things wither away. The adage of ‘use it or lose it’, applies to every thing that makes you. Your mind is no exception.

We are vaguely worthy beings at all without a concentrated effort to be a being in the first place, but these simple three things will give you calmness and confidence in life and in all your endeavours.

It is what I teach my children and offer to any ear that is sincere enough and patient enough to listen. It is what I teach my students as their minds are ready to give up in training. It is not for the lazy or procrastinating.

I understand that some people just want to surf waves but some like swimming under water. Others are not satisfied until they’ve dived deep enough to see the ocean floor.

Without judgement or prejudice, you are free to do as you will, but if you’re honest enough, at times, you will struggle and these three simple steps will help you get back on track in no time.

Wesam El dahabi

raise your sons

 

We’re hypocrites,
teaching our children to be humble,
and with the same breath,
showing them how to be attached to things,
this anxiety that we’ve left in our wills,
shall be inherited by them as boulders,
if we don’t quite simply,
practise what we preach,
and release the world from our grasp,
so that it can unshackle us from it slavery.

W.E.

introversion – fifty six

Tricks of the self,
wanting unwantedness,
to the point that if you don’t get it, you starve.

Lying to your heart,
that you’ve made the decision all by yourself,
knowing deeper past that pump,
(that conspires with whatever random thought passes by),
that society doesn’t think much of your strangeness,
your aversion to conformity other than for civil discourse,
uncomfortable with the reality,
you’re unimportant unless you can sing and dance,
unless you can show and prance.

You prattle, we prattle, I prattle,
over and over and over again,
a religion if I have ever seen one,
of worshipping ones self to no avail.

Fruitless, pointless self worship.

W.E.

it’s not social anxiety

I don’t do social transactions,
a certain awkwardness that echo’s in my bones,
remind me,
ever nostalgic of all that time,
silence became my most loyal friend,
those years where I had to play pretend.

To commit to exchanges of buoyancy,
agreements of mutual detachment,
lying to ourselves that we get along,
in reality using each other for benefit.

I don’t fit well,
because I don’t know how to use people,
and you, ever the socialite,
because you’d tear into your mothers neck,
if it meant acceptance.

I can’t commit, I default,
call me socially bankrupt if you want,
deprive me of any privilege you so desire,
but please remove me from any obligation,
of forced amicability,
for the sake of pseudo civility.

W.E.

Homoeostasis is not an option

It daunted on me,
we’re all seeking reconciliation,
this thing of balance,
that has fascinated me since I first learned the word;
homoeostasis!

The state of perfect balance,
what else is it,
than stars aligning,
breath,
syncopation,
harmony,
hormones,
things that just work,
everything making sense.

We slip in and out of chaos,
attempting to find meaning,
perhaps in extremes,
testing waters unknown,

But all I want to do is write poetry with a piano,
paint happiness with my fingers,
caress loneliness with branches of an olive tree,
I know I can make things work,
vital things,
I have an uneasy truth in my lungs burning,
and it billows with rage and crackle.

I have waves of jealousy,
watching others throw things off,
it’s the imbalance that hurts so much,
people wallowing in it,
people reluctant to un-smear the mud off their face.

I just want to give my eyes to one person,
and if that’s not enough,
my mind,
and even then,
my heart.

Then they can feel this engulfing,
and incessant need for balance,
and why I strive so hard,
why at three a.m. I’m just beginning,
and they’re deep in waters,
drowning in mediocrity,
I don’t need their normalcy,
because that is anomaly from brilliance,
and brilliance is a stretch of possibilities,
a promise to the universe to make it work.

I have given my oath to truth,
to musk in the air of the forest,
to the oft return of spume dancing,
and to grace in the pegs of a mountain.

I’ve given my oath, means I’ve given my oath,
and I’m the most persistent subordinate you’ve ever seen,
you’ll soon wear yourself down,
in disheartened vain before I conjure a pause,
I’ve yet to see commitment like mine to homoeostasis,
a warrior,
a poet,
a healer,
a man uncaring for the discomfort of others,
if it means they’re happy being mundane,
so be it!

So be their offence and disbelief,
their pursuit of an apology for relief.
I’ll give them ten,
and they’ll still find a scapegoat of victim-hood.

I’m uninterested in it all.
I just want truth,
I just want homoeostasis of fine, fine things,
intimacy with the marrow of me,
until it’s my marrow that manifests on my tongue.

Because in the end,
that’s what it’s about,
this oneness,
this wholeness,
this balance,
pursuit to one.

The more you love,
the slower things move towards you,
and that’s not bad.

You want to be able to scrutinise,
synthesise,
accept with maturity everything it is and isn’t.

Slow things are observable,
fast things are tunnel visioned,
and I want them both.

So that with the speed or surety,
I will accept all I observe.

I love the world,
all that is in it and the One who created it,
He knows balance,
and I just want it all to equalise,
under the purity of its primordial nature.
ITS NATURE,
not ours.

I can handle a truth,
that manifests on the tongue of my challenger,
I can’t handle a lie,
in the heart of my loved ones.

Slay me with truth,
and I’ll give you my neck,
comfort me in lies,
and you’ll feel no end to my wrath.

I welcome rain just as much as I do drought,
nature knows what to do,
but we,
ever so ungrateful,
do not.

How then do you return,
to this delicate scale of equilibrium,
but to let go of the measures you assume,
the metrics of your comprehension are limited,
to preconceived rituals,
to blind worship,
your mind an altar,
your soul the sacrificial lamb,
your heart,
the one that pays the price,
for seeking anything other than balance.

W.E.

dear grief – 24

There’s a heavy feeling of being hovered over.
Like an appointment is waiting and I don’t feel I’m ready for it.
There’s sadness brewing,
an overwhelming sense of helplessness,
for the first time in my life,
I’m anxious about death.

Like I’m short-changing myself, my children, my potential.
How does a three year old reconcile with losing a father when he’s ten, sixteen or thirty five?
Will his thirteen year old brother hold his hand, mend his mother’s heart, reassure his angry brother, force himself into a fortress of solitude, but a solace of rectitude?
Why should he have to endure such hardship,
why should his sister have to be given away by him and not me?
Why should he hover over his nine year old brother like a hawk, anticipating his next self loathing moment?

Why should he be forced to name his newborn after me, in memory of me, honouring a cultural tradition that prides itself on who can grieve the hardest.
As if keeping a name alive long enough demonstrates the grandest love.

What I do know is that once you lose someone to death,
they immortalise in waves of grief,
oft returning grief that crashes and dissipates,
yet washes like it was never there.

That’s why I’m addicted to the sea,
I drown in grief daily,
its salt is always on my lips,
always in my eyes.

W.E.