The football equation

Football, your ability to fall asleep and sex are the three best ways of seeing how your brain is working.

Work hard, make sacrifices, be focused, live it, breathe it, bleed it. Right? What if the answer is…Ye, sometimes.

Now note, this is just my opinion, formed by my personal experience and observations – as always, I may, and probably am wrong. You’re experience might be different.

Most people are told, as kids, that if they just work hard and make the right sacrifices they can do and be whatever they want in life. What if that was true only some of the time? And when I say that, I’m not referring to little Johnny who thinks that if he just works hard and makes the right sacrifices, he’ll be able to breath under water or bring Tupac back from the grave (although I do think Tupac is still alive). No, what I’m referring to is, what about if those positive pro-active mindsets are inversely correlated with success. That is, what if effort, makes you worse? Im not sure how transferable this is to other aspects of life, infact im pretty sure it isn’t (except other artistic endeavours maybe), so let’s just stick to football for now. If I had to put it into one sentence I would put it like this: what if caring will help you play better, but not caring will help you play your best. The heck?

Being who I am, I find myself going through the same 4 stage process with almost everything. 1. I take things that I instinctively feel. 2. I deliberately pay close attention to them so as to notice them more vividly. 3. I inspect and analyse them. And then 4. I write them down with either a lesson to share, a principle to remember, or a question to ask and explore with the hope that that question will eventually lead to a lesson and/or a principle. After all, initial good questions always trump initial good answers. This one, incase you haven’t already noticed, is definitely a question. Because fuck I’m confused.

I remember reading somewhere about Steve Jobs talking about innovation and explaining that it’s like putting an apple (fruit-apple, not Apple waste-your-whole life-on-a-phone Apple) into a supermarket, without a sticker on it. Millions of people every day pick up regular apples, know that the sticker on there is ever so slightly annoying, but nevertheless proceed to take the sticker off, fight with it sticking to one finger and then the other, until finally they find a bin to put it into and can begin eating the apple. All the while, never even really paying attention to it. Until someone comes along who puts an apple in the supermarket that doesn’t have a sticker on it and then everyone suddenly realises how convenient this new apple is and how annoying the other ones were. In the same article he demonstrated this point by using the example of, while other electronic items used to require you to get home and charge them, Apple (waste-your-whole-life-on-a-phone-Apple) decided to make their products “pre-charged” so that a customer could take their purchase out of the box and use it right away with full battery. So, seeing the problems that are right in front of people’s faces, and bringing attention to them with either a solution or at least a good question.

Which brings me to my point, people have noticed this little paradox exists, there are even lines that go something like “you’re trying too hard” but for some reason it’s an unpopular, taboo topic for a lot of people. The fact of the matter is that like most other things, we all instinctively know there’s a flaw in the design but everyone just accepts it and tries to work around it instead of break it open and investigate it at its core.

How do you navigate a terrain where the reason you participate and the reason you don’t tap your full potential, appear to be the exact same thing – Your “love” for it.

Let’s start by exploring the first part, the reason you participate. Why do you play? Why do you want to win? Why do you want to be successful? These question, if asked correctly, or at least if thought through honestly, can get at the deepest part of your personality. It’s an exercise I went through recently and came up with many conclusions, which I then had to dissect further and then further again. Suppose your answer is “because I love it”. That’s a logical answer, but let’s dissect it further. Why do you love it? What exactly does it give you? Maybe you answer “it’s because I’m a purest and I like the artistic expression of the human body in motion” *the crowd raises their right eyebrows and say “huh?”* But let’s be real, that’s not all it is. Maybe it’s because it’s difficult, so you have the feeling of accomplishment. Maybe it’s a way for you to show how good you are, to feed your ego perhaps. Maybe it’s simply for the money. I know I’m being like one of those little kids that’s annoying as hell that just keeps asking “why” after everything you say because he knows that you have to keep finding a new answer, but Ye, it’s very much like that. Ask why, and then why again, and then why again. Until you get right down to the core of it. Then once you’re down there, ask yourself whether that’s a healthy reason. And if it is, great, and if it isn’t, well at least now you know.

Now on to tapping your full potential. I know potential is like a 4 letter word to some people but let’s just ignore that for a second and just embrace the fact that everyone has a spectrum between their best, and their worst. And through life, with whatever we do, we fluctuate between these two extremes. I feel pretty confident in saying that artistic careers, of which I’d say sporting careers are, have perhaps the most volatility in regard to this spectrum. I’m aware that it’s a natural process of human experience, but I highly doubt a GP comes in Monday and feels over the moon like he’s the best doctor in the world, and then on Tuesday cries himself to sleep because for some reason, all day that day he couldn’t even find his patients pulses. In some ways this is an over exaggeration but in some other ways it’s not. Lets not even get started on myself but I have seen players, who are 100% unbelievable athletes, not be able to make a 5 metre pass. Not just once but sometimes for a whole training session. How does this possibly happen? How? Why can’t we always be good? Or play our best? There’s millions of answers that we could come up with for why we played badly on a particular day: the weather wasn’t right, I didn’t sleep enough the night before, I didn’t eat the right foods, I didn’t prepare properly. But all this shit, in my opinion, is maybe 10%…At the very most! The rest, is your head. Everyone knows this, but up until now, with all of our technology advances and our sports science advances, the popularity for the attention on the psychological aspect has had to take a backseat. Slowly, some people are hearing about it, but I don’t think it’s gotten the attention it deserves thus far. I mean how often when someone makes a mistake do you hear someone yell out “focus!” Like what the fuck? There is like a 99% chance that that is not the reason the person has just made that mistake.

Now the next thing I say, i think, is only specific to the sport of football for reasons unbeknownst to me. It is, that yes okay, there are plenty of players that are brilliant athletes that spend every second thinking about how to be great and in turn are great (Cristiano Ronaldo for example), but the crazy part about this whole thing, and I think the reason I’ve noticed this paradox is because the very best players that I’ve played with or against, the ones with that “x factor”, the ones who really have that ability to take your breath away, almost all have had one thing in common. They cared less than everyone else. Not just about the opinions of others, but about everything. Their diets, their sleep, their habits. Everything. And furthermore, for myself and many others who I have spoken to, their best performances have come on the days of least effort. In other sports or careers you probably can’t get away with that kind of an attitude, but in football it seems to be a common symptom of genius.

Shall we digress to some further questions…

Why do we ever go to both extremes? And the most crucial question is, where do you go once you realise that there is something you really want. Do you ignore it and pretend like you don’t care? I feel like this would be the equivalent of trying to hide a chocolate bar from yourself. You obviously know it’s there. And thinking that you’ll somehow be able to trick yourself into forgetting that, is just fundamentally flawed. And that just pushes the irony even further to the point of – the very fact you’re trying to pretend you don’t care is simply because you care so much. Haha ain’t that a brain bender. Or alternatively, do you just hammer along, hard as you possibly can, all the while knowing that this increased attention and effort is essentially leading you to never be able to actually tap your full “potential.”

Okay, big deep inhale, anddddd exhale…. that was a lot of words. This page is a great representation of the ceaseless ramblings which occupy my mind every waking minute. Anyhoo, put your thoughts on the page they say.

I wonder, is it perhaps that it comes down to that crucial question of why you’re doing it in the first place. And if that answer is not a healthy one, then that’s where this unsolvable equation becomes your reality. What about if it’s as impactful as: as soon as the reason for the desire becomes an “unhealthy” one, that is the moment you make a mistake?

When thinking about the best players – perhaps more often than not, their reasons for why they’re doing it are healthier than other people’s? Or is their “not caring” just simply a symptom of someone who is so confident in their ability that they know regardless of what they do they’ll still play well? Bit of a chicken and the egg kind of thing.

I’d love to know your thoughts.

P.s the true irony of this whole thing is that even though this is what I think, I write this while in the middle of a 24 hour fast. Talk about not trying too hard…

P.s.s for the visual people of this world, here is a simple, rough diagram of what I am trying to explain. This could be interpreted as either: a single athletes performances over time and how effort impacts his/her performance, or each individual performance of every athlete on a particular team on one particular day, all who have different levels of effort/performance

The Off-season

What a thing it is, to be at the edge of the earth.

The warm sand in-between your toes.

The wind, cool and damp across your face.

You touch your hands to the water.

There’s something about being out here

that is so comfortable.

Just you and the never ending sea.

Knowing your mum is around the corner cooking dinner.

The horizon hovering just at eye line.

The distance, falling away into nothingness.

You’re home again.

The sun twinkling like Christmas lights, across the blue ripples.

The breaks of white foam that come and then disappear just as fast.

You sit.

The crashing of the waves forces a silence to your mind.

Stops the chatter, for just a moment.

Your body feels slightly heavy against the ground.

And then you realise.

Everything you ever did or didn’t do, lead you to here.

Everything you ever said or didn’t say, lead you to this moment.

Everything.

The good days.

The bad ones.

The doubts.

The smiles.

The laughter.

The long conversations.

The friendships that lasted longer than others, but are different now.

The ones that are still the same.

The ones that turned to bitterness.

The drives to the other side of the state.

The flights to the other side of the earth.

The times you longed for this place.

The days spent in the gym.

The thousands of hours spent trying to improve.

The homework.

The parties.

The parties you missed.

The failures.

The mistakes.

The places that turned you down.

The people that put you down.

Or the ones that believed in you. Always.

The triumphs after so much patience.

The days you got to where you dreamt of as a kid.

How proud you felt on those days.

The days you messed up in ways you hoped and even prayed you never would.

The cold mornings.

The boiling hot afternoons

The long nights.

The sacrifices.

The nerves.

The jealousy.

The pain.

The hatred.

The sadness

The loneliness.

Oh that damn loneliness.

All those silent tears you cried.

Or the ones you shared.

Brought you, here…

You ponder the question.

Was it all worth it?

And conclude, if you can smile honestly, in this one moment. Then regret would not make sense.

Equality

For a long time I’ve been trying to put into words my feelings about this topic so carefully, that I often say only a little or nothing at all. When I actually feel quite strongly about it. This is not at all going to be going in the direction that you probably would assume it to, considering my background or the colour of my skin.

I love listening to the intellects of the world battle it out verbally about what it means to be racist or sexist, or what discrimination means and how whole countries are less accepting than others. Truth of the matter is, everywhere you turn your head, prejudice exists. Inequality is the biggest elephant in this room and we’ve all fucked it for ourselves because we’ve created so many “taboos”, and have become so unable to be honest with ourselves, that now nobody is allowed to actually say how it is for fear of being crucified. Majority of the people that cross the screens of our phones or our televisions. Or the people that have their faces sat on the “best seller” spot in our democks, have lied to themselves, then gone out into the world and publicly stood for something they know isn’t the full story because they know they can profit from it. And the reason they profit from it, is because it appeals to the lies that we all tell ourselves, so that we can go to bed at night and feel like we’re morally superior to everyone else.

The human race is selfish by nature. That’s the real truth. Almost everybody is. Everyone is prejudiced. If you think that white men are the only people in the world that are sexist or have brains filled with racial prejudice, you are for lack of a nicer word, delusional. If you think discrimination towards typically “dominant racial or social groups” isn’t a thing. Again, you’re delusional. Don’t get me wrong. I’m well aware I’m a privileged person. I was born into a loving family, with friends who are kind to me, in a city that has allowed me to feel safe. But that doesn’t mean im not allowed an opinion. Again, that would be unfair. I have no doubt in my mind that love is the answer. In almost all situations. So belittling someone because they’re born a white straight man is exactly the same thing as what we should be fighting against.

Ahh Lyrics

Up until now, I’m yet to come across somebody who loves song lyrics like I do. I don’t mean that in a competitive way at all. As if I have more substance that anyone or something. More so in a painfully frustrating way. More so in a desperate, longing way. More so in a “please god allow me to find sometime to send all my new-found music to.”

Its kinda funny how people have come and gone for me. For a period occupying the space in my mind that instantly thinks of them as soon as I hear a new song or find a nice paragraph. But so far nobody has stood the test of time. Plenty are they, that appreciate the music and the melody. That’s not what I’m referring to here. I’m talking about the single sentences in a song that make me feel like my knees have just buckled inwards and I better stick my hands out in front of my face before I face plant. This analogy of me falling over actually isn’t too much of an over exaggeration of the feeling I get sometimes when I hear a new, perfectly shaped sentence.

If you’ve been one of the people who for a few months or years we’ve exchanged music, please don’t think I don’t appreciate the connection we have/had. Sharing music with someone, I genuinely believe can be such a bonding experience! I feel that often when you meet a person, their taste in music can be a huge reflection of their personality, and if you like the same stuff well then, maybe you have more similarities with this person than you know yet. This intrigues me…

In saying all of this – At work the other day the topic came up of pet hates! I said there are two that I can think of off the top of my head.

The first one being when you offer to buy someone a meal and they say “na that’s okay, I’ll just have some of yours”…”um well actually my friend, no you will not”.

Aaaaand the second being when I get overly excited to show someone a song and say “hey hey hey! Listen to this song, but make sure you listen to the lyrics, they’re so nice”. Then after about 30 seconds of pressing play they’ve swiveled the chair around to face me, telling me “shit you should’ve seen this chick at woolworths today!” Meanwhile in my head I’m ever so slightly punching them in the middle of their forehead. After a truly frustrating 3 and a half minutes through the song, they so often have the nerve to then say “ye that song was nice man’.

You people know who you are.

Without further ado, here are just some of my favourite song lyrics from some of my favourite songs and artists – in no particular order.

• Coldplay  – The Scientist “Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard”

• Missy Higgins – The Special Two “So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save ya face?
Well, I guess the answer is don’t do it in the first place”

• Bob Marley – Redemption Song “Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds”

• Goo Goo Dolls – Iris “And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming, or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive”

• Angus and Julia stone – Old Friend “The sun it burns so I jumped right in, I felt the cold sea kiss my skin. I turned around and you were gone, and I’m thinkin’ of you, thinkin’ of you”

• Jack River – Fools Gold “You don’t like rollercoasters. How could you ever love a girl like me?”

• Ben Howard – The Fear “I’ve been worrying, that we all, live our lives, in the confines of fear”

• Ben Howard – Old Pine “Hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags. I’ve come to know that memories, are the best things you’ll ever have. The summer shone, beat down on bony backs. So far from home, where the ocean stood, down dust and pine cone tracks.

• Bears Den – Berlin “So we made our way to the memorial, you traced your hand along the wall. When they put on the video, I felt your hand tighten in mine”

• Bears Den – Above The Clouds Of Pompeii “You said stay in the car and wait, there’s just some things I have to say. Don’t you know I miss her too, I miss her just as much as you”

• Bright Eyes – The First Day Of My Life “Remember the time you drove all night. Just to meet me in the morning. And I thought it was strange you said everything changed, you felt, as if you just woke up”

• Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) – March “Honey be my little sun. When we ain’t gettin’ none”

• Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) – 22 (OVER SooN) “It might be over soon”

• 2Pac – Dear Mama “Ain’t no way that I can pay you back, but my plan is to show you that I understand. You are appreciated”

• 2pac – Keep Ya Head Up “And since we all came from a woman, got our name from a woman and our game from a woman. I wonder why we take from our women, why we rape our women, do we hate our women?

• 50 Cent – Many Men “Sunny days wouldn’t feel special, if it wasnt for rain. Joy wouldn’t feel so good, if it wasn’t for pain”

• Paul Kelly – From little things, big things grow “From little things, big things grow”

• Damien Rice – The Greatest Bastard “Am I the greatest bastard that you know? The only one who let you go?”

My gosh this song. So hard to pick one line. I could’ve just written the whole song down here. For me this song, my man Damien found the perfect middle ground of telling a story and allowing the lyrics to be interpretive. Then there’s that Cello…Gold

• Damien Rice – The Blowers Daughter “I can’t take my eyes off you”

These are just the one’s that came to mind today. There is many more that have stopped me in my tracks – excuse the pun – please please, send me any I have left out. Any lovely songs, for the sound or writing, I’m sure I will appreciate them all!

Be easy,

p.s. Little shout out to the second verse in Drakes new “emotionless”

Our Missy

Last night my sister and I, along with our dear friend Kristen went to see Missy Higgins play at the Palais in St Kilda! I think people think I’m joking when I try to explain how much I love her and how much of an affect she has had on me. For a long time now, along with a lot of other Aussie’s I’m sure, she has been my favourite artist. Seeing her journey unfold infront of our eyes, to see her come from being unknown, to the person she is today. To see her be able to gain so much and still stay the same humble, kind and slightly quirky Missy we all loved and adored the first time we heard “He left a card a bar of soap and a scrubbing brush next to a note” on rage, skipping it’s way out of our televisions. I swear it was a moment of instant connection for most of us. There was something so familiar about her voice. She was the definition of the girl next door. Every australian probably had a woman in their life that reminded them a little bit of Missy. . A younger, less hardened and probably a tad cuter version of our beloved Paul Kelly. Who by the way on a side note, has to go down in the history books somewhere alongside Bob Dylan as being near the top of the best songwriters to ever live.

Her journey to my heart began that day with “scar” as I said. Although a well written song, it was so catchy that even the music lovers among us that don’t pay attention to the lyrics could appreciate it, and somehow find themselves singing along word for word. Years past, albums came and we all listened on as she became more and more a part of our lounge rooms and car rides.

Then I moved to Argentina for soccer. It was the first time I’d left home for an extended period of time, and though I look back on it with only fond memories and wouldn’t change a day, it was far from the easiest thing I ever did. From the million other lessons I learnt over that 3 year period, one was learning what I thought and felt for home and the people in it. Missy helped me feel that. It sounds funny but throughout that time I’d allow myself a once a month listen through of all the greats. “Any day now”, “The sound of white”, “They weren’t there” – to just name a few, the real list would take a while. Again, that familiarity. It was as if, sitting on my bed thousands of km’s away, with my earphones in and my eyes closed, her voice would pick me up and take me back home for those 3 and a half minutes. Her ability to create a narrative inside a melody is unquestionably amazing, but her songs for me were so much more than just a relatable story. They genuinely took me places, as much as that sounds like a Hallmark card

I saw her for the first time 5 years ago. Again at the Palais, as I sat alone in the 3rd row from the front, on she walked, no band and barefoot. With a ukelele resting atop her pregnant belly she captured the whole audience that night with just herself and one of the smallest instruments around. I thought to myself 2 things. The first was that “when the young girls in the audience stop having their conversations during the songs, that’s when you can be considered great as an artist” and second was that this woman was exactly who I thought she was. She was, as she said “a picture, a pillar of solidity”

After a long and involved discussion with my mum via Skype, without her blessing I decided to get a tattoo representing my Australian side. In that conversation we discussed the history of Australia, and all the ways we’ve failed as a collective. All the people we’ve hurt along the way, and for that matter, the things that are still going on today. But I disagree with the notion that you can’t be proud to be Australian knowing all of that, and be allow to show that you’re proud. Because the people I know have beautiful souls. I love the way mum calls the toilet the loo. I love having bevs on a Sunday afternoon in the sun. I love triple J. I don’t really follow the AFL but how good is grand final day. I love that even though I’ve traveled around I’ve still got so much of my own backyard yet to see because our land is so vast. I love the artists that this country somehow keeps developing. Though ironically I learnt to surf in Spain, I love that I can drive left or right for an hour or two and get a wave now. Most of all I love the mixtures of culture everywhere I turn. I really do feel blessed to have grown up in Melbourne Australia. As with anywhere there’s a lot of things that need improvement. But I feel safe, I feel warm and I feel happiest here.

Last night I sat with my sister and a friend. While missy played “steer” and everyone smiled on, I curled my head to the side so nobody could see me crying. For me, music is the only art form that without any conscious thought or obvious emotional investment my eyes seem to tear up for no particular reason except for it being simply that good. Thanks Missy for an evening well worth the scam I got sucked into online where I payed three times the price of a normal ticket. Well worth it and…I got her guitar pick :)))

P.s. Gordi, the opener. Wow she’s great, check her out!

Chaka

Unlike Christian funerals I’ve been to, we didn’t speak on the day. And barely spoke much after to anybody outside the family about our memories and relationship with you. Even though I probably wouldn’t of spoken at the time anyway, I really like that part of the day when I’ve heard other people do it. Now I feel like I’m in a clear enough place where I can see my thoughts. Hear my feelings, understand my emotions. So on this day one year on, I’ll write. I never wrote anything for you, weird considering writing and football is pretty much all I do with my time. I tried so many times to write a song but none of them seemed good enough. Vivid enough. So maybe I’ll just say what I think, no guitar, no rhythm, no bars, no bloody metronome. Just words. People say talk is cheap, I say it’s all you have, I say it’s the most valuable currency that exists. Having the ability to say what you think and what you feel should never be taken for granted. Silence is a form of self torture. I’ve cried enough over you but today I’ll allow a few to slip through the cracks, just so I can give myself the space to be honest.

At night time, I think of you.

Lying in bed, pitch black, that has to be the loneliest most reflective place in the world.

Weird how I haven’t felt anything they taught me in religion. No voice in my head. No voice in my heart. No spirit guarding me. No new strength that I never had before. But I sure have felt for you.

Now nobody tells me to make my bed.

Now nobody tells me I played shit when I played shit.

Things that I remember thinking I could live without. Now I’d hear it with a smile if I could.

The vinegary smell of Tabasco sauce reminds me of you.

When mum talks about Falicity we laugh and remember how you used to call her “facility” then every time without fail mum stops and questions whether she should’ve just allowed you that little speech impediment.

Whenever someone calls me Rashidy I hear your voice, you always said it with such love. Even when you were yelling.

I take my hat off to you, you did your best.

Dreadlocks, I always wanted them. We would find little broken off parts of your dreads all around the house, it was like your stamp of having been somewhere. So strange that we never thought it was gross, finding clumps of hair all over the place. Only funny.

It sometimes felt like we could only laugh when you felt like it. But when you did, boy did we laugh.

Even when you were tired you’d force yourself to come to my games. Then afterwards on the phone it was always the same thing. “Ahhh Rashidy, you got another yellow card!?” Advice followed.

I remember watching you perform. You and your band that also doubled as our neighbours. I don’t remember the music that clearly but I remember what I thought. That you had some kind of light around you. I don’t want to sound cliché and say it was blinding but it was, when you were around everybody knew it. Such a big, strong, warm personality. And gentle in your own special way. You could fill a whole stadium up with your presence.

All of mums family loved you so much, and we all know you loved them back just the same.

I make every meal in the pursuit of it tasting similar to your cooking. That’s actually not a lie at all. I swear you gave me bullshit advice on how to cook like you, simply so then I’d have to come to your house for it. Things like “put the oil in last.” You didn’t even have non stick pans, so that can’t of been true.

Manchester was hard on me. I almost broke.

When I open my wallet now I see you.

I swear you’re the face of Oakleigh for me. You loved a flat white with a little cake.

Funerals remind me of you.

Football reminds me of you.

Arguments remind me of you.

Nobody knew why I got a migraine in the grand final last year, but I definitely do. After our team talk and so much of it was on family and love and doing it for people, I got myself so wound up that I went back into my hotel room and balled my eyes out. I wanted so bad to give you something to celebrate up there cause I remembered how proud you felt the first time. Crying nowadays is the only way I get those damn migraines. We just missed it that night in Sydney.

Hugs, they remind me of you a lot.

I remember when Jason asked me why do you say “fuck” when your dad calls? I guess only Salim, Jameela, mum and I can understand that. But I’m glad he asked me that. In just a few words it was a big lesson even though he probably didn’t realise.

Anxiety is no joke.

That day I broke my tooth against Sydney you wanted me to get it fixed with gold. I swear Id do it if I had your swag. Maybe I still will.

The finest display of road rage.

Then there was that night in San Sebastián when I realised I’d never be able to listen to Bob Marley again without thinking about being woken up from your garage blasting three little birds. And oh the smell of that insense. How could you even breathe in there?

I bought a new guitar so I could play only the best songs on yours. In a weird way I feel like that’s respectful.

I’m so glad I went to your home this year. My second home. I got to see and hear how much you meant to all the people who knew you. They all call you “Chaka” like the true soldier you were! It was as if you fathered almost a whole island.

Hearing the way Marco would speak reminded me of you. How you would say “I make a puddle?” Instead of “I beg your pardon?”

Remember our 2 vs 1s in the backyard of Richardson street against Salim. That’s probably where I learnt to slide tackle. But then you stopped coming for kicks with us, and we thought it was because you just couldn’t be stuffed. We probably never really appreciated how sick you were. I’m sorry for that.

How about that you genuinely thought we believed you committed to stop smoking. Even when we’d find a lighter in your car and you’d promptly say “oh my bloody friend left his lighter in here again”

Your first heart attack, I was just in primary school. So oblivious to the whole situation I remember getting into the back of mums car. About to go to the hospital at 5am. With my school bag on I decided to express my confusion. “Mum, why are we going to school so early?”

When I was younger i thought I couldn’t be any more unlike you. Damn biology. I got your sense of humour. I got your love for music. I got your love for football. I got your love for family. I got your capacity for love, I think. I hope I got your ability to be the best father.

How would you define success in your life?

My sister asked me this question a while back. Though I can’t remember what my reply was at the time, I remember afterwords, asking her why she had asked in the first place. Her reply was “I just think it’s really interesting, nobody ever has the same answer.”

She’s kind of a smart cookie, with a really interesting way of looking at things, often different to mine. That’s why when she’s not yelling at me I tend to listen to what she has to say. Plus she got the hazel green eyes which I’m still annoyed about.

Since then I’ve asked most people I come in contact with, and believe me I’ve come in contact with people from all walks of life. From accountants to musicians, from lawyers to youth workers, from sales reps to teachers, from sports people to sex workers, from the unemployed to the really unemployed!

What I’ve found is, some people give you a materialistic goal. Some people have an exact destination in their careers that sits in the forefront of their focus. Some people answer “I just wanna be happy” which means absolutely nothing so I will proceed to repeat the question. Some people will speak only of relationships. One persons answer to me was that they just wanted to completely understand themselves, what a courageous and elusive desire that is. While couch surfing in Wales I had a deep, long conversation over a bottle of Whisky with an amazingly intelligent host. When I say intelligent I mean, I asked this person why we have Christmas trees and she knew the answer straight away. Fascinating. Anyway her answer was, to be successful, is to be content. And to be content in ones life is to sit in the middle. Not to strive for happiness but not to live in misery either. Sort of floating in the balance. If you’re not upset, then your happy, without all the running and laughing you usually see on those advertisements for romantic getaways. Because all the other stuff is fleeting. And when you allow the universe to do its thing without getting involved, things usually work out better. Sort of reminded me of the scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall where Paul Rudd is trying to teach Jason Segel to surf. And he just keeps saying to him, “do less, don’t do anything.” Even though it’s the funniest scene ever I swear there’s a hint of merit in it. Ever noticed how when you don’t try to do something or you don’t care, you’re better at it and there comes this kind of mild enjoyment in the separation of self and task. As if you’re just watching a movie, seeing everything take care of itself.

Without further ado, I now will give my new and improved answer from whatever I had said the first time.

Disclaimer: I stole this from a dear friend I asked while over in Kenya.

A successful life to me, would be defined by having every different experience possible, ticking every box and leaving your bucket list, on your last wheezing days, completely empty.

I guess subconsciously I’ve always kind of lived in this manner. They say that curiosity killed the cat, well let’s just say I’m glad I have those 9 lives that I’m still here prowling around.

It really is a paradox though isn’t it, do you sit yourself in the fast lane, press down as hard as you can and just hold your foot there until you run out of road in the name of pursuit. Or do you make the intelligent decisions, sit yourself in the slow lane, drive safely and only once in a yellow full moon, pull over to smell the roses. I feel like the politically correct answer here would be for “balance.” Or maybe the answer is somewhere around what the lady in Wales told me, take your hands off the wheel, recline your seat and the car will drive itself (Tesla plug.) How scary it is to test that, both literally and metaphorically.

I don’t know if anybody else asks themselves this shit, or when you go to bed at night do you just jump in and slip right off to sleep. Wow that would be actual bliss. But if this has made you think about it, DM me what you think is a successful way of life and how you go about it moment to moment. That is, if I haven’t already asked you

Be cool, Rashid x

Next stop: Lamu, Kenya

When you think of the phrase culture shock, what comes to mind?

My older brother acted as a punching bag for the stress and organisation of everything. Although my sister and I, along with my mother, weren’t in the front line, we all had our own mental wrestling matches going on that kept us pretty occupied in the silence of a bedroom.

For me I’ve always lived with my chest out saying that I’ve been to many a places and embraced different cultures. Never rattling me, always making me feel more and more that I had the ability, as Bruce lee says, to “be like water.” I put my hand up after this one to say that I’ve been beaten. Not in the sense that I haven’t loved my holiday, because I have. Not in the sense that I wouldn’t come back, because I will. But to put it simply, it was hard for me to empathise with some things.

When I think of culture shock I think of the aromas in the air, the motor bikes zipping past you with no regard for road rules (with a baby on each arm mind you.) I think of ingredients I’ve never heard of or which types of stray animals I’d accidentally kick walking home through dark alleys that I shouldn’t be. I think of fashion, music, economy, danger, the tempo of a city. I think of religions and their influences on the percentage of the population that they hold in their hands. And how even though everybody is reading the same book, a mixture of nature and nurture shapes the way those books are interpreted and then understood in their respective city. I think of places where football can be spoken in the same breath as religion. I know all of this, and I love it. I love the rush you get when you land in a place that is so different from home that you immediately have to put your “smart” hat on. I never would’ve thought that something like being on time could be viewed so differently, I thought of it as a universal sign of respect. But it’s not, there really are places in the world that this is not valued as highly as it is for us. If you know me at all you’d know that this one would be hard for me, but how could there be a cultural difference in something like “honesty” right? I think everyone in the world knows that being honest is better than being dishonest, but as a culture, the social punishment you receive seems lighter in some places than others. To the extent where there almost seems a strange place for it. That it’s accepted in some circumstances. I ignorantly thought that everywhere would have the same idea about problem solving. That fixing a problem between one or more people was often better than just expelling them from your life.

I didn’t want my brother (the eldest male in the family) to be the one that had all the responsibility for such a huge issue that nobody should have to deal with alone. I would have loved for the stress to be evenly divided amongst us. But instinctively he took it on, almost alone in many ways (not unlike Marcus Aurelius), ironically adopting the cultural norm of the town, which I found out slowly after being there for a while. He’s always been more “cultured” than me…I don’t even use chopsticks.

The funny thing is, the whole time I knew my father he had been feeding me hints of this in his own personality, the times we had left home 30 minutes late for soccer training, that he would then turn to me and casually say “I’m gonna stop for petrol” even though he’s sitting on half a tank. But for some reason I always took those moments as flaws as opposed to a difference. My ego always saw those characteristics in the light of “my ideals are the correct ones, yours are wrong, so you’re not as good as me. Full stop.”

I find it so weird that there’s things in my life that I’ve felt so “right” about that I couldn’t even see that it wasn’t about being right or wrong. Sometimes things are just different. Morals and values have completely different metrics, with not one metric necessarily being the best. That in some places if I smell my food because it looks delicious, I’m actually being rude. Where’s as in other places if I burp at the table that means the meal is lovely.

This culture actually uses a currency also known as “laughter.” For the best of my interpreting ability, this culture values having a laugh with someone, over being on time for the meeting that is being had while you’re having a laugh with someone. This blurred things for me, because who can say with certainty which is more important.

I thought that right and wrong was black and white. A lot of people will probably argue with me that it is, and I definitely still think in some circumstances it is. But I challenge you in every moment, every encounter with another human-being even if they’re from the same city as you, try to stretch yourself as far as you go, to the point where you can barely see your foundations, and “be like water”. Ever changing, ever adapting, ever accepting. This doesn’t mean you have to do things that go against your own morals or values, but do you have the ability to see it in another’s perspective? Can we be conscious of the fact that there is much deeper reasons as to why people are the way they are, than just the narratives we create at face value in a moment? Can we see that not everyone is using the same metrics as us.

A lesson I have taken from this short holiday, and echoeing a message in a book I’m currently reading. “You should never think that you’re completely right about anything, you shouldn’t even strive for it, you should only strive for being a little less wrong.” Even though you go to a place to help someone, somehow they seem to always help you just as much, if not more. In this culture they might not wait in line for you to get on the bus, but they would literally give you the clothes off their back. Truely beautiful.

2017, the strangest one yet

Thought I’d get in early before the whole world posts their “new years, new me” (that 99% won’t stick to after the first few weeks) and all the appreciation msgs start flying out. I also will be in a third world country on New Years so this may prove difficult to get a wifi strong enough to reach across the world at those buzzing hours around midnight.

It’s been a strange 12 months, the regular highs and lows of every day existence. Throw in a casual running away from everything I know, a touch of relationship building, a smidgen of alone time and some gut wrenching misery, and there you have the tastiest chocolate cake of wisdom I ever ate. This year I’ve probably done my lifetime PB for reading, listening to music, praying, singing, partying, traveling, crying, laughing, hugging, swimming, talking, learning and most of all, feeling. That’s one thing I’ve noticed. This year I have felt so much, pretty happy about that one.

Jokes aside this is an appreciation post. I wanted to express how grateful I am for the people in my world.

Through the strangest year of my life the people around me have shown their true colours and pretty much all have been the warmest red the retina can withstand. From phone calls, to messages, to coffees, to dinners, to travel partners, to party partners to Dnms, to driving me around, to having the patience it takes to listen to me talk shit. Then there were the talks about my career and sometimes, sometimes it was literally just the making a sacrifice to stand next to me in certain moments. All these efforts were things that people really didn’t have to do and just made a choice. Trust me they didn’t go unnoticed.

I know my personality is pretty selfish and unhelpful but from the people I have around me that side of me is slowly dying, and you guys are my inspiration.

I could probably go on forever and maybe if I had 6 hours to think about it I may be able to name everyone, but I won’t. I’m sure everyone knows who they are, except maybe Tubby, Tubby probably doesn’t realise.

I really do love you guys. They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and I try to be more like you everyday ❤