My most transformative since 2019, and that fateful trip to see the monks.

But more on that another time…

What’s keeping me busy in the meantime is this 👇

Unplugged’s first crowdfund.

We’re currently 5x oversubscribed and launching this coming week.

Link here to register. Let me know if you are joining and want bumping up the priority list.

And then, I promise, I shall pick up my pen and share all.

Until then. 🙏

— —

Risk warning: Don’t invest unless you are prepared to lose all the money you invest. This is a high-risk investment, and you are unlikely to be protected if something goes wrong. Take 2 mins to learn more: https://www.crowdcube.com/explore/risk-warning

If you’re caught up then we’re in 2009. A fateful year. The year the drinking started.

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Blackouts and Breakthroughs

It began slowly.

The first year was cautious; the odd drinking bout at school. But soon something shifted.

Here, finally, was a release. It wasn’t long until I took to it with a reckless abandon.

The next decade saw a dizzying escalation of antics. Too much to cover here.

To give just a taste; let me tell you about a game played with my flatmate during university.

The game, if you can call it that, was called “Blackout Thursdays”. It was rather simple:

Every Thursday we’d each drink 70cl of vodka, and see what happened. That was it. The kicker, of course, was we didn’t have a clue. The night was a blackout.

I wince today writing this. But at the time I wasn’t remotely concerned. Perhaps even a little proud of my reckless behaviour. It certainly made for good stories.

But it came with a cost. One I hadn’t appreciated until very recently. That cost is shame.

Salvation

All roads, in therapy, lead to shame.

Inevitably it appeared at the root of my issues too.

Some part of me was appalled at the stupidity. I’d wake up riddled with regret and shame from the night before. But then my conditioning kicked in.

I shrugged it off. Put on a smile. And repeated my mantra: All is well.

As the decade progressed the behaviour got increasingly reckless. The more I suppressed, the more extreme the reaction. The nights got bigger, the shame grew.

During my early 20s this reached a head.

I’ve always had a deep belief my life would work itself out. That success would fall into my lap. But soon it became clear I was heading for a crash.

So I threw myself into anything that might steer me to a better life. I began to meditate. I went from a fairly illiterate dyslexic to an avid reader. I joined a public speaking group.

Anything for a way out of this spiral.

And then salvation.

My dear friend Hector Alexander, suggested a silent retreat in the Himalayas. I jumped at the opportunity.

Up in those mountains something shifted in me again.

I returned a changed man.

A week later I quit my job. I started Unplugged. Then just another month later I swore off drugs and alcohol. The chaos ended.

And change came quickly; I felt a deep calm and confidence previously missing from my life.

That was it. The problems appeared solved. And for a couple of years they were.

But all that shame was buried away. And it wasn’t finished with me yet.

Processing

My next trial was a growing illness. Four years of worsening symptoms brought me to my knees last year. More on that here.

Coupled with the trials of startup life it made 2023-24 challenging years.

My goal each day: Grit my teeth and endure, however oppressive things got.

And endure I did. But with an ever growing weight. Which, fortunately, brought me to the office of Gavin.

What I now realise is the unprocessed shame/stress/trauma- whatever you want to call it- had a terrible cost. And whilst the drinking had gone, that very much remained.

My work now is to process.

As Brené Brown says: Shame derives its power from being unspeakable. I’m learning to speak. I’ve said things in Gavin’s office and, recently, outside that I thought I’d never utter aloud.

And the results are remarkable.

I’ve seen huge change in three months. I’m less of a people pleaser, more direct, less cripplingly agreeable. I’ll say the uncomfortable things I’d have previously left unsaid.

As I do this work, things magically fall into place.

Problems resolve. Opportunities emerge. A spring has returned to my step. We’ve even had weeks of sun in the rainy UK.

I won’t take all the credit for the latter but perhaps a little.

But the work is just beginning. And, I suspect, never ends. As with all in life; it’s the journey rather than the destination.

Much will shift for me this year. I can’t tell you what- I haven’t a clue- but change is coming. For the first time in years I see a path forward; a huge opportunity to build something special at Unplugged and become the best version of myself.

I don’t intend to waste it.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The World of Yesterday by Stefan Zweig

What a remarkable book. The autobiography of the wonderful Stefan Zweig. Zweig grew up in Vienna pre-1914; a time of progress when we thought there would never be trouble again. And then the Wars. A generation suffered horrors that could never be undone. The World changed. Loved this; such a poignant read.

The Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

Set in a dystopian US, set in 2025, 40 years after it was written. A beautiful, and harrowing book.

Nexus by Yuval Noah Harari

The history of information; from stories, to the written word, to the age of AI. Information, and how it travels, is at the very heart of what it means to be human. A sober, and, at times, alarming read. But thoroughly enjoyable and thought provoking. Harari is a genius.

A Final Thought 💡

“The cure for pain is in the pain.”

- Rumi

We left off at the end of last year. I’d taken the fateful decision to work with Gavin.

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Breakup

I had some time to wait.

A trip to Sri Lanka, over New Years, gave me space to ponder what was ahead. I knew big changes were coming. I felt uneasy.

By mid-January I was back. A weekly session agreed. And we begun.

The first session passed without major incident.

We discussed the rather safe topic of my dyslexia. Gavin accused me of mismanaging my neurodiversity.

Not something I’d been accused of before but he had a point. I resolved to go away and research the topic further (more on that another time). We parted ways.

Maybe this won’t be so challenging after all I thought to myself as I strolled away.

How wrong I was.

By session two things got spicy.

Gone was the tame dyslexia chat. The focus turned to my romantic relationship.

I won’t dwell on the details here, it’s not only my story to tell, but sessions two to four were deeply uncomfortable. I left each week reeling. Feeling sick to my stomach.

Four sessions was all it took.

I ended the relationship.

I arrived to session five shell shocked. Afraid of what might be uncovered next.

It’s then the real work began.

Icebergs

Gavin described my various dynamics as icebergs.

Each one a sign of a deeper issue. Apparently we weren’t going to be short of material.

Connecting them all was, apparently, a complete lack of self-care. Why do you end up in such shit situations? He asked me.

Now, this was rather confronting. I had myself down as a self-care expert. In the last five years I’d learnt every trick in the book to keep myself calm and positive through life’s trials.

But therein lies the problem.

I’ll be fine no matter what; it’s a powerful attitude. One that’s given me remarkable resilience.

But it’s also meant putting everything and everyone before myself.

At the cost, in recent years, of my health, personal finances, and, at the end of last year, even my confidence. All from the destructive situations I’d placed myself in.

What intrigued Gavin is Why? Where had this come from? The conversation turned to childhood.

And it all came out.

Trouble

The times as a young boy I’d shown emotion.

Crying at school.

The embarrassment.

The vowing to lock it away.

To not show that vulnerability again.

The steeling myself to be unflappable.

A master of emotional suppression.

All is well becoming a mantra; a way of life.

And then the trouble starting.

The problem with emotional suppression is that emotion needs to go somewhere. And locking it away has consequences.

The day after my 15th birthday, at boarding school, I drank half a bottle of whiskey and half a bottle of wine.

Next thing I knew I woke up in the local hospital. My Dad was there to take me home.

This set the tone for the next decade.

— —

That’s all for today. The public unpacking of my baggage will resume in Part 3. Coming soon…

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Our Oaken Bones by Merlin Hanbury-Tenison

A beautiful book. The story of Merlin, and his wife Lizzie, healing from PTSD and burnout, amongst other things, in the temperate rainforests of Cornwall. There might just be an Unplugged cabin appearing there soon…

A Final Thought 💡

"Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways."

— Sigmund Freud

It’s been illuminating to say the least.

Ten minutes into the first session, my therapist laughed and said:

It feels like as soon as we open the cupboard door with you everything will come tumbling out.

I smiled. My jaw clenched a little tighter. Here we go I thought.

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Time for a Change

It’s been quite the experience. But before we get into all that, back to the why.

Why therapy? Why now?

If you’d asked me how I was doing last year I’d have said All good. All is well. But every now and again I’d follow up with a chuckle and an of course, there’s the weight of running a startup.

That weight had been building for years. The heavier it got, the more I explained it away. It’s just part of the game I thought.

But towards the end of last year I changed my mind. I suspected there was more going on. So I turned to therapy.

I’m a fan of therapy, so not a difficult decision. I’ve done various stints over the years:

Four months of psychosexual therapy in 2021. Instantly effective, curing a decade of fierce aversion to relationships.

And two less successful bouts whilst attempting to save a failing relationship in 2023. Neither the relationship nor the therapy saw out the year.

I’m an introspective chap. There’s little I like more than delving into my psyche and unearthing the flaws in the system. I find the whole process a joy.

So it was with a spring in my step that I embarked on this next experience.

Getting Started

Where to find a therapist? I had no idea. But I didn’t have far to look before fortune intervened.

At an event the very next week I was gifted complimentary sessions, with three different therapists. I wasted no time booking myself in.

A week later I was sat in the first session.

It was thrilling. She was young, sharp, and quick in conversation. We flew through 30 years in 50 minutes. I left energised. I was sure I’d work with her.

Just one of the remaining two got back to me. I’d enjoyed the first session so much that I questioned the need to see another. But for whatever reason I booked it in.

It was with a chap called Gavin.

Gavin

A week later I was sat in Gavin’s office.

He’s middle aged, Scottish, with a dry humour, and an almost theatrical manner. Within five minutes, I realised this was going to be a very different experience. He made a remark so challenging it left me speechless.

The next 45 minutes followed a similar vein. I kept smiling, but through gritted teeth. Every fibre of my body hummed with adrenaline. It was intense.

I walked out of that session stunned.

Gone was the spring in my step. What just happened? I wondered.

When I’d regained my composure, I turned my mind to the looming question: Which therapist should I choose? Deep down, however much I fought it, I knew the answer.

Oh God. I thought. I’m going to have to work with Gavin.

There was no turning back now. The die was cast.

— —

To be continued…

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Trotsky by Robert Service

Trotsky, born a Ukrainian peasant, rose to be one of the 20th century’s defining figures. A remarkable talent, yet arrogant and confrontational to the extreme.

Loved this book; one hell of a story, beautifully told. Gripping.

Babel by Rebecca K. Fuang

Thrilling. I recently read Yellowface by the same author and both are thoroughly engrossing, despite the very different settings. This is more historical fiction with a fantasy twist on British Colonialism. Rather profound.

A Final Thought 💡

"The most difficult thing in life is to know yourself."

- Thales

Today is a first for this newsletter:

The first post not by me.

Instead it’s over to my far-more-literate twin sister, and the longtime Unplugging editor, Polly, on twinship. Enjoy!

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On Twinship

What do Gisele Bundchen, Kofi Annan and Hector Hughes have in common?

They all have a twin sister. The Brazilian supermodel and the former UN secretary-general appear in the Wikipedia article “List of twins” under the devastating heading “Notable people with a non-famous twin”. I’m not sure my ego would survive it if Hector were to be added to that category. As we move into the second half of the 20s my sights are set on the much shorter list of “Twins notable in each of their own separate fields”.

We turned thirty last year, which has prompted me to spend some time reflecting on the question that everybody always asks us: what is it like to be a twin?

Our experience bears very little resemblance to the interdependent relationship usually associated with twins. We can’t communicate telepathically (even verbal communication is sometimes a struggle), we don’t look at all similar and most of our mutual acquaintances would tell you that we have almost nothing in common.

For example, Hector is committed to his daily meditation practice; as far as I’m concerned, sitting in silence with my own thoughts is a strong contender for Room 101. He’s an optimist whose school report once observed that he “made Pollyanna look like a pessimist”; I’m a cynic and something of a misanthrope.

One thing that we do share is a marked tendency for self-deprecation. Perhaps that’s a defence mechanism developed as a result of growing up alongside someone who, by virtue of being our diametric opposite, threw every failing into sharp relief. Or perhaps we’re just English.

All that being said, the differences between us are not quite so fundamental as they once seemed. As teenagers, we set out on totally divergent paths - Hector is dyslexic but excelled at maths whereas I love to read but had a turbulent relationship with anything involving numbers. I am fairly sure that the number of books he read in early adulthood could be counted on less than two hands, so his decision several years ago to reinvent himself as a voracious reader was met with astonishment (our parents and sister) and scepticism (me). Regular readers of this newsletter will be aware that he stuck with it and now routinely tackles sprawling, highbrow novels with complicated plots.

His transformation inspired me to look at my own talents through a different lens. If my twin, once a renowned wreckhead, could reinvent himself as an aficionado of Russian literature, a spiritualist, and a low-tech guru, what could I do? With Hectoresque optimism, I decided to retrain as a scientist and discovered that I can in fact understand maths.

Our brains are very similar - we are, after all, twins; the difference lies not in how they work but in how we choose to use them. I often see my brother do things that I know he would once have thought impossible, which galvanises me to do the same.

I do still draw the line at meditation.

About Polly

Post University, Polly lasted five months in an office job before deciding that it wasn't for her and moving to a remote island off the coast of Mozambique. She spent several years immersed in the natural world as a horseback safari guide and in 2021 moved back to the UK to do a masters' in conservation science and policy.

She currently works as an analyst at Langland Conservation, providing intelligence support to frontline conservation projects across the world with a focus on counter wildlife crime initiatives. She's running a number of ongoing investigations into big cat trafficking and has produced geospatial threat analyses for some of the most remote and wild protected areas in Africa.

In 2025, she’s running a project bringing the latest tech to empower indigenous people in the Amazon to protect the land they live on. Closer to home, she’ll be collaborating with Unplugged on nature recovery initiatives at several of their new and existing sites - watch this space…

It feels deterministic. Inevitable even. But it’s not so.

The finest of margins change everything.

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Temüjin

In 1162, on the steppes of Mongolia, a boy called Temüjin was born.

He had a tough childhood.

His father died when he was 9, poisoned by a rival clan.

His family was then abandoned by their tribe, condemning them to years of hardship.

During this time he killed his stepbrother in a struggle for dominance.

And then, disaster.

He was captured by a rival tribe who saw him as a threat. Enslaved and placed in a wooden yoke, he awaited his fate.

His life hung in the balance.

But it was not be the end for Temüjin. With the help of a sympathetic guard he escaped.

What happened next echoes through history.

From then on his rise was dizzying. Temüjin, bit by bit, united the Mongol tribes. Until they formed a nation.

Over the decades they swept through Asia, even into Europe, conquering all in their path.

At some point he adopted the name we remember today: Genghis Khan.

Light

It’s hard to understate the impact of the Mongol empire.

By opening up Europe to the far East, culture, and then science, blossomed.

A torrent of inspiration flowed into medieval Italy, leading to the Renaissance. Which in turn laid the foundations for Europe’s scientific revolution. The rest, as they say, is history.

And just like that the dark ages were flooded with light.

What if Temüjin had been killed by that rival tribe? If the Mongols had never united and smashed together Europe and Asia?

Who knows. But it would have been a different world to the one we have today.

You can find the same throughout History.

Take the 20th century, for example, characterised by the dictators who dominated it.

Adolf Hitler ended up in hospital during the First World War; what if that injury had been fatal?

And as for the rise of the Soviet Union?

The revolution that brought them to power was a pantomime. Their incompetence outdone only by that of a drunken standing government. Many times along the way it survived by a stroke of fortune.

These were fine, fine margins. Often hinging on a moment.

Moments

And our lives, too, hinge on moments.

Applying for a certain job. A spontaneous holiday. That fateful decision to start a newsletter.

All of these can change everything. And we have no idea at the time.

So what’s the lesson in here?

Well, life is long and unexpected. It’s easy to fritter it away, second guessing our every action.

But what if we embraced the randomness of it all. Because what do we know, really?

There’s a wonderful Zen saying that: No snowflake falls in the wrong place. Everything happens as it should.

With our lives, too, this is so. Everything happens as it should.

So then all that’s left, is to surrender.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Loved this so much. Took a couple of hundred pages to get into- tricky to get your head around all the characters- but from then it was a complete joy.

It’s a brilliant tale, hilarious in parts, and wonderfully colourful characters .

Definitely my favourite from our book club so far. Highly recommended.

Part of my book club with Hector Alexander. Next month is The Divine Comedy do join in if you fancy it.

A Final Thought 💡

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been.’"

— John Greenleaf Whittier

Others prophesies a glorious new age.

Trump is back.

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Complicated

It’s fascinating how brilliant people can be so opposed on an issue. 

Every issue in fact. Take any hotly debated issue on the planet and you’ll find wise, intelligent people on each side.

Nothing is more hotly debated, this week, than the US election.

Within 30 mins, on Wednesday, I had someone tell me this is the dawn of the next, great, American age. And someone else tell me the whole world is fucked. 

Both smart people and utterly convinced of their forecasts.

So who’s right?

Well, it’s complicated.

Different Realities

Firstly there’s a question of how we measure.

Best to you may look very different to best to me.

We have this idea that our reality is everyone’s; how we see the world is how everyone else does.

That’s not so.

Take what makes a good President? 

We’ll all have different opinions around what matters; based around our values, upbringing, and current predicament. On our widely different realities.

And then there’s the individuals involved. Trump, like anyone, is complicated; despite our desire to boil him down to a caricature. 

To some he’s nothing but a narcissist, devoid of empathy. And to others he’s the bold hero America needs. One can easily find “evidence” to justify either belief.

So you and I will likely be judging a very different perception of a person with a very different perception of a role. No wonder it’s a minefield.

The issue is we don’t realise what’s happening.

We judge the other side’s beliefs against our values and situation. Through that lens they’re clearly villains. 

Or perhaps they’re just different humans with a different view of the world?

Maybe Not

And then there’s the challenges of forecasting. 

Even if we all agreed marvellously on the goal- be it economic growth, or any quantifiable metric. There too we’re on treacherous ground.

It’s a complex system.

And yet we try to boil it down to one or two pithy points: “Trump’s the answer as he’ll shut down global conflict” or “boost American business” therefore he’s clearly best for economics growth.

There’s a great parable on this:

A farmer and his son had a beloved horse who helped the family earn a living. One day, the horse ran away and their neighbours exclaimed, “Your horse ran away, what terrible luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”

A few days later, the horse returned home, leading a few wild horses back to the farm as well. The neighbours shouted out, “Your horse has returned, and brought several horses home with him. What great luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”

Later that week, the farmer’s son was trying to break one of the horses and she threw him to the ground, breaking his leg. The neighbours cried, “Your son broke his leg, what terrible luck!” The farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.”

A few weeks later, soldiers from the national army marched through town, recruiting all boys for the army. They did not take the farmer’s son, because he had a broken leg. The neighbours shouted, “Your boy is spared, what tremendous luck!” To which the farmer replied, “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”

Perhaps you can see where I’m going with this.

Like it or not Trump is in.

Will he do a good job?

As the Chinese Premier once said, when asked if the French Revolution had been a success, 200 years after the fact: 

It’s too early to tell.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge

On neuroplasticity. It’s really remarkable how the brain can adapt. Our brains are changing all the time. This is full of crazy examples including a women born with half a brain who now lives a normal life. Much more is possible than we think.

The Fund by Rob Copland

A takedown of Ray Dalio’s Bridgewater, the biggest hedgefund in the world. Very entertaining and quite the story. Copland paints an Orwellian dystopia inside the firm.

A Final Thought 💡

The more unpredictable the world is the more we rely on predictions.

- Steve Rivkin

It’s humanity’s #1 pass time:

But for what? It’s a waste of energy.

A far better question:

What if it all works out?

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Pascal’s Wager

To make the point let’s go to 17th century France.

There we find mathematician Blaise Pascal. And his famous wager.

Pascal tackled the thorny issue of whether or not to believe in God.

He argued it’s impossible to prove or disprove God; we are, therefore, gambling with our belief or non-belief. But we all must choose one.

His question, then, is which should one choose?

To him, as a Mathematician, it was a question of expected value: Which option benefits us most if right, and harms us least if wrong?

Pascal decided that if you believe, and you’re right, you’re infinitely rewarded in heaven. If you’re wrong, you lose nothing.

On the other hand, don’t believe and you gain nothing if you’re right and an eternity in hell if you’re wrong. Ouch.

To Pascal then it was clear; there was no rational option but to believe in God.

Lose-Lose

So how does this relate to worrying?

Well, we spent a huge amount of energy there. And it feels productive. Faced with some issue it feels necessary to spend hours tossing it around our mind.

But it’s not. And we don’t.

Either the thing we’re worrying about happens or it doesn’t. Just as God exists or he doesn’t.

Either it doesn’t happen, and the proceeding weeks worrying were in vain. The stress and anguish for nothing.

Michael de Montaigne once wrote: “There were many terrible things in my life and most of them never happened.”

Or it happens, and we’re no better off from all that worrying.

We lose either way.

Because time spent worrying is time spent not doing the thing that does help: Taking action.

The Rational Choice

We don’t have to be spectators in our lives.

Or to curse our luck as life blows us off course.

Because there’s always a path through; something to be done. And it’s only when we stop worrying that we can find that way.

It’s hard- I know. None of us choose to worry. Worrying happens.

But what happens next is up to us. It takes just a moment to snap out of it. To steel our resolve. To stop the catastrophising and decide to move forward.

What if it does all work out? What if the thing you’re worrying about don’t happen at all?

Only time will prove either way.

Until then we have a choice: Where to place our wager.

And there’s only one rational choice…

To stop the worrying, and ask:

What if this all works out?

And it just might.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

It’s a remarkable book. Definitely an inspiration for Joyce’s Ulysses. But, fortunately, far more readable. Hilarious in places, with a wonderful group of characters. This mixed in with a notable amount of Cetology (the study of whales!). An enjoyable read.

Part of my book club with Hector Alexander. Next month is Brothers Karamazov do join in if you fancy it.

Period Power by Maisie Hill

Not a topic I’m intimately familiar with, I’ll be honest. But an important one considering it affects half the planet. Thoroughly enjoyed and learnt a lot. An enlightening read.

A Final Thought 💡

“The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.”

- Elbert Hubbard

I don’t believe there are bad people.

People do bad things, sure. But does that make them bad people? 

Not for me.

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Gori

It’s controversial when you take the extreme. 

Take Joseph Stalin say- one of history’s greatest villains.

Stalin was responsible for the death of millions. He ruthlessly led the USSR through the Second World War, with little regard for human life. 

But the real horror came during his Great Terror. Two years between 1936 and 1938 in which an estimated million people were executed, with millions more sent to gulags.  

As a person he was paranoid, ruthless, and devoid of empathy.

A nailed on case for a bad person, surely?

Not so fast.

Stalin had an incredibly difficult childhood.

He grew up in extreme poverty; in a town called Gori, known for its violence and lawlessness; he was regularly involved in street brawls. 

His father was an alcoholic and terribly abused Joseph and his Mother.

Aged 7 he developed smallpox leaving his face permanently scared; aged 12 he was struck by a carriage damaging his left arm, leaving it shorter than his right for life.

He entered adulthood deeply psychologically and physically damaged.

Does that excuse any of what he did? Absolutely not. 

But does that make him a bad person? Here, I suspect, is where we disagree.

You see, labelling someone a bad person is a judgement. 

I have two issues with that: 1) You remove all nuance. Everything is black and white. Yet life is not. And 2) what you’re really saying they’re a worse person than you and your people. 

Death Row

So, am I a better person than Joseph Stalin?

Well, I had a far easier childhood; in every dimension. I suffered none of the trauma he did.

Who knows how I would have dealt with what he did?

Would I spend my days writing newsletters about compassion and humility? Certainly not.

There’s a reason people do bad things. It comes from somewhere. And it does not, in my humble opinion, make them lesser people.

Did you know, for example, that 75% of people on Death Row in Texas experienced childhood abuse?

Others suffered childhood damage to their pre-frontal cortex; which is literally where the brain reasons. From childhood their ability to reason was impaired. Hardly surprising they ended up where they did.

Of course, there’s no right answer here.

It’s down to each of us. “Bad” is a construct for us to use as we see fit.

For me it’s not a useful construct. 

Gandhi

I subscribe to the philosophy of another of the 20th century’s defining figures: Mahatma Gandhi and his theories of non-judgement and unconditional love.

Gandhi’s focus was on self-purification rather than the judging of others. He spoke of understanding motives rather than condemning actions.

Isn’t that wonderful?

Imagine if we spent half the time understanding why someone did what they did rather than condemning them. He recognised people often acted out of ignorance, fear, or compulsion.

Truly understanding someone’s struggles leads to compassion and tolerance. 

A nicer way of being: Approaching the world looking for a reason to love someone, rather than a reason to hate them.

And I’ll be honest: My motives are selfish. Selfish because it’s a better way to live. Smile at the world and the world will smile back.

The trouble is it’s not just the Joseph Stalin’s we like to label as “bad”. It’s the friend who let us down, the challenging colleague, the unfriendly neighbour.

But with each of them, too, there’s a reason. Something has driven that behaviour. What if you looked for that? 

I suspect you’d find that they’re just another human too.

Who, just like you, is dealing with life as best they know how. And maybe, just maybe, you can learn to love even them.

Good luck. ❤️🙏

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham

Such a wonderful book. It follows the lives of a number of characters, each searching for something different in life. It’s beautifully written with the author himself dipping in and out of their lives. Loved it.

Thank you Hec A for the recommendation!

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemmingway

A short read and engaging tale. Enjoyable but not life changing.

A Final Thought 💡

“It is unconditional compassion for ourselves that leads naturally to unconditional compassion for others.”

- Pema Chödrön

It started off by handing in my phone.

So far so good; one of my favourite pass times. Like an Unplugged stay.

But then it turned more Matrix than Unplugged.

The next three hours were spent surrounded by screens, and the elderly.

Quite surreal.

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EES

Imagine, if you will, a dimly lit room.

A light sends green dots dancing on the wall. 

Got that?

Great, now add 12 lounge chairs in rows of 3.

Populate 11 of these chairs with the aforementioned elderly, and the last with this writer.

Next imagine a raised shelf running around the wall.

The shelf is full of computer monitors. 

On each screen is what looks like a stream of text. Colourful and indistinguishable. Running at different speeds on each devices.

Classical music plays in the background.

The effect, I have to say, is rather hypnotic.

Where on earth were you? I suspect you’re wondering. I thought the same, I can assure you.

Fate had led me to the Battersea Park Clinic to embark on the latest of my eccentric health treatments.

It’s called the Energy Enhancement System. 

Low Key

And it came on my radar from a chap called Jack Smith.

Jack has spent millions in the last few years treating various ailments (he, helpfully, sold a company for $800m) and concluded this system to be the only thing that worked.

Still on my own healing journey this caught my attention. As did the price. It’s suspiciously cheap. 

Most these whacky treatments are ludicrously expensive; 10-part IV Ozone Therapy, for example, will set you back £750 a session. A course of 10 sessions is recommended. 

But not this.

It’s just £60 for three hours. A bargain if it can do a fraction of what Jack believes.

So there I was, at 2:45pm last Friday; sat amongst a sea of grey hair; waiting to be summoned. My neighbour, a Dutch lady, I learnt, was here to fight her cancer. I suspect others were in a similar boat.

I was rather excited.

I had a book, a journal, and three hours off my phone. I’d pay £60 for that with no healing properties. If it can also help heal, frankly, it seems too good to be true.

Shortly before 3pm we were ushered in.

It was all very low key.

No instructor, no official start, nothing really. We just wandered in and each found a lounge. And it had begun.

20 minutes pondering the trials and tribulations of the week soon slid into a nap, which led to some journalling.

Three hours passed in very much this vein. Pondering, napping, and journalling. It was a joy.

Once finished I was ushered to a salt bath to complete the process. And that was it. I was ejected back onto the streets of Battersea.

Looking Well

So did it work?

Well...

I felt extremely calm afterwards, so that’s something.

And I noticed a certain glow; even earning a comment about how well I looked (thanks Mum!). Surprising after a week of work.

But as to the healing?

It’s hard to say. I feel like it did something. And perhaps that’s all the matters.

It reminded me of a conversation I’d had recently; I was challenged for talking of getting healthy.

Don’t focus on the end goal, he told me, focus on the journey. The healing is a goal in itself.

As with everything in this life the journey is the destination.

What I loved about this particular treatment is it’s a wonderful way to spend three hours. So much of this healing process can be a chore, and rather tedious. But this? It’s a journey I’d love to be on.

But in that quirky room, I had another thought.

It’s not really the journey or the destination. It’s the company. Because all the colour in this life comes from who we spend it with.

Heal one thing, and then comes the next. Life will throw many challenges; who you face them with matters far more than what they are.

Sat there on my lounge chair, surrounded by my elderly companions, I felt a real gratitude for the people I get to spend it all with.

And it was with that calm, gratitude, and perhaps even, wisdom, that I wandered home.

Whilst I can’t tell you what, clearly something happened in there.

I will certainly be back.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

A beautiful book. A meditation on family, love, fortune and the passing nature of it all. Highly recommended.

Thank you P for the recommendation!

The Odyssey by Homer

Rereading 13 years after I first encountered it. Amazing how much shorter certain parts of the story are then remembered. Odyssey’s journey is almost secondary to the various comings and goings on Ithaca.

I didn’t find it the biggest page turned I’ve ever read but a pleasant read none the less, it had a certain comfort to it.

Part of my book club with Hector Alexander. Next month is Moby Dick, for which I’ll be visiting H in Nepal for a live reading.

A Final Thought 💡

"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone"

- Blaise Pascal

I’ve reintegrated after my few weeks of Italian countryside.

And it’s been fun, sure. Energising. But overwhelming too.

I’ve found much solace in a favourite phrase:

Take it bird by bird.

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Advice

The phrase comes from Anne Lamott’s wonderful book of the same name.

She tells a story about her brother. He’d been tasked with documenting all the local birdlife for a school project.

But he procrastinated.

As the deadline loomed he began to worry. Soon, it was the night before. And he still hadn’t begun.

Then the panic really set in. He began to cry.

Seeing this their father came to the rescue. He knelt down next to the boy and consoled him.

His advice?

Just take it bird by bird buddy. Bird by bird.

Heavy

It’s a simple but profound idea. One I turn to again and again.

Because it’s not obvious, or easy. Life happens and sometimes it feels like we’re simply surviving- wading, each day, through an endless to-do list.

I’ll often mix, in my mind, the one or two truly important things, with the mass of meaningless tasks, and even the big existential questions. Especially running a startup.

Let me give you an example:

Say I’m fundraising (a frequent pastime) and my mind is occupied with a specific negotiation. I’d love to say that’s all that’s occupying me. Alas, there’s also:

Those operational decisions that need taking… The tasks that need sorting with our accountant… That mysterious drop in bookings last week… Some returning health issues... The nagging voice telling me I should be exercising more... The bills that need paying… That wash I need to put on... That bloody speeding ticket!

And, now that I think about it, I could probably do with some new socks- the current collection have rather a lot of holes in… And a few new t-shirts perhaps... Hmm probably a new wardrobe entirely now I think about it… And a haircut while I’m at it.

Plus there’s the big questions… Here I am pitching this vision for the company… But how on earth is that going to happen if the damn cassette players keep breaking? And where’s the rest of money going to come from anyway?

Soon, these ALL feel heavy.

How on earth will I get out of this one? I wonder.

Moments

But then I remember…

Take it bird by bird.

The first bird is to close that investor. Focus there.

I’ve managed with my hole-y socks and wild hair until now. I can do a little longer.

Something remarkable then happens.

The overwhelm evaporates.

It becomes obvious that all these little things only seem weighty because of the big one. Solve that and life becomes manageable. Worries and pending to-does evaporate.

Get that first bird done, and the second is easier. As is the third. Soon you’re flying through them. You complete all the birds; the full set. That wasn’t so difficult was it?

But we’re not done there. I realised this week, that this, too, misses the point.

It was driving through the English countryside; ruminating over what to write here, and wondering when I’d get through the emails stacking up. When it occurred to me to stop.

To stop constantly running over the challenges in my mind. Living in my to-do list.

Why not enjoy this moment? I thought. Start there.

And there was much to enjoy.

It was a beautiful day. I felt a deep calm being back in the countryside. And I had so much to be grateful for. Life is good right now. Yet there I was fretting.

I resolved, then and there, to spend more time in that frame of mind; not bird by bird but moment by moment.

Because when all is said and done what is our life but a string of moments? Thousands of today’s stacked together.

Each of these is experienced just once. You get one shot at each day, each moment. Why not enjoy it?

What, then of the to-do’s?

Well, I’ve found, in my short time on this earth, that when we truly surrender, and meet life where it is, everything has a funny way of sorting itself out.

The universe provides.

So perhaps we just need a little more trust in that.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The Myth of Normal by Gabor Maté and Daniel Maté

How trauma and suppressed emotions have driven the rise in chronic illness. Gabor Maté says 90%+ of the people he sees with such issues have the same personality traits: They’re highly agreeable empaths.

Very compelling- another area to investigate further…

Thank you Sam Pearce for the recommendation!

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee (in progress)

This book follows a Korean family over 100 years in the 20th century. Halfway through and loving it.

Thank you P for the recommendation!

A Final Thought 💡

“Be happy in the moment, that’s enough. Each moment is all we need, not more.”

- Mother Teresa

My Italian adventure comes to an end.

Was it successful? 

Remarkably.

Whilst my Italian may not have progressed beyond 10 words, I am saying Ciao! with a newfound confidence.

And, dare I say it, I’ve even caught a little sun*.

(*although no doubt will receive plenty of “thought you spent five weeks in Italy” comments upon return… ha ha, very funny 🙄)

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Hope

But it’s not my linguistic prowess or darkened skin that matter. Neither was the priority.

No; I came here to mend. And, whilst I’m not fully mended, it’s there the progress has come.

The first half of the trip, I’ll be honest, was frustrating. Part of me thought the moment my feet touched Italian soil I’d be healed. 

This was not to be.

But two things happened:

The first? 

I relearned how to hope.

Dantès

Hope is a powerful thing. 

The last year has been the first, personally, where I haven’t had unwavering hope.

But during this trip that changed.

DNRS, discussed last newsletter, helped immensely; as did the standout book- Alexandre Dumas’s stunning The Count of Monte Cristo.

I can’t tell you how much joy this book gave me; completely gripping, a wonderful cast, and packed full of wisdom.

The epic finishes with a letter from the protagonist, Edmond Dantès, to a dear friend. It concludes:

“Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget, that until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words,- Wait and hope. “

Wait and hope.

At first glance one might not agree- does waiting really solve anything? Surely one must take action? But that misses the point.

Throughout the book, like any of these old books, the characters are driven by providence. They believe their actions are guided by a divine hand. And all they must do is follow. It is through this lens you see Dumas’s point.

We worry so much today. Do something or we don’t- but all the while worry whether we’re on the right track. So much of our time and energy is frittered away as such.

I’d put this down to a lack of faith.

People once had faith; their job was to do what was in their control, and the rest was left to providence. But it’s rare today.

I suspect you’re wondering whether I’m about to reveal I’m taking the cloth; I’m not. I didn’t arrive in Italy religious, and I don’t leave so. But there’s something here.

Do the right things, sure. But with those wheels in motion one must then have a little faith. A little trust in the universe.

And as for me: I’m not cured, much work to do there. But something has changed. I am ready, finally, to wait. The impatience that consumed me is no more.

And beyond that? I’m ready to hope.

Company

The second breakthrough was unexpected.

In recent years I’ve sought solitude to recover. When times have got challenging with health, in relationships, or at work, I seek headspace. To ponder and regroup.

But this time something surprising happened.

I had some company.

And in just a short few days, it was that, more than anything else, that boosted my health.

Why? Many reasons I’m sure. But perhaps it comes down to some advice she gave me:

I was told, can you believe it, to live a little.

Naturally I nearly choked on my celery stick when I heard that. 

Me?? Here I am spending five weeks in Italy and you’re telling me to live a little?

But once my initial indignation had died down I realised she had a point.

The last five years have been a constant drive to eliminate my many vices; to get my life on the desired path.

This has led to the removal of many of life’s pleasures. And whilst I haven’t felt deprived- other joys have entered my life- perhaps there’s something there. I find it endlessly fascinating that my health challenges began shortly after quitting drinking, for example. 

So I lived a little.

I ate an ice cream for the first time in years, even drank a glass of wine. Perhaps it was my imagination, but something inside me seemed to loosen.

Where does this leave me you might wonder.

Well, I certainly won’t go back to drinking- sobriety has been life changing- but, to put it on record, I shall endeavour to live a little more. 

To go with flow. To take life completely life as it comes. To surrender.

That’s when I’m at my best. 

And truly embrace that life happens with other people. Perhaps I’m not destined for isolation after all.

It’s not so much how we spend our lives, but who we spend them with.

Choose wisely.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

Such a joy. I’ve said my piece above but do yourself a favour and give it a go. Utterly brilliant.

Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton

I loved this. Funny, vulnerable, and alarmingly relatable in places. Well worth a read.

Thank you Rima for the recommendation! 🙏

Mountains on Horseback by David McCullough

Wonderful. The early life, and trials, of Theodore Roosevelt. You are a sum of the people you spend time with, or read books about. Felt like I needed some T.R. energy in my life; remarkable character.

Book Club 📖

Month one of my book club with Hec A concludes.

Two weeks after finishing I’m still pondering Ulysses. It’s a unique book.

First of all, let’s be honest, Joyce was clearly completely mad.

But clearly a genius, too. And I’d say that summarises my reading experience:

There were many pages, sometimes whole chapters, where I couldn’t begin to figure out what was happening.

Fortunately they were broken up the more coherent pages; where I could glimpse into the story and the lives of our characters. Despite the impenetrability I found myself growing fond of the cast and knowing them on a level suggesting more went in than I realised.

My initial thought was just how far from reality it all is. But by the end had opposite opinion: Joyce might have done a better job of capturing the human condition than any other book I’ve read. Yes, it’s jumbled and messy and scandalous throughout. But, then again, so is life.

This won’t be my last reading of it, I suspect a little more is revealed each time. But I’d lying if said I wasn’t glad to be beyond it.

Next up it’s Homer’s Odyssey. Do drop me a message if you’re joining in!

A Final Thought 💡

"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years."

- Abraham Lincoln

Think, the night before, that you’ll wake up tired. And you will.

Likewise, think you don’t have much energy. And you’re right; any left will seep away.

We have thousands of thoughts a day; a constant stream.

To a casual observer these thoughts may seem harmless. A mere background commentary.

But it’s not our lives directing the thoughts. It’s the thoughts directing our lives.

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The Body

Let’s start with the body.

Say you’re hungry. You imagine a wonderful meal. You’ll literally begin to salivate. 

This is your body preparing digestive mechanisms for the incoming food. Not only this but billions of other cells will leap into some action or another. 

Isn’t that remarkable? The simple thought of food can change your very physiology. 

Imagine, next, your greatest fear. Perhaps a spider, a snake, or looking over the edge of a tall building.

Fear wells up within you. Hairs stand on end and your heart beats faster.

These reactions are brought about by a simple thought. And one thought no less! What of the thousands we have in a day?

We’re not tuned into our bodies so we miss the truth; all these thoughts have an impact too. Every one sends a cascade of messages through us. 

We are far more directed by our thoughts than it first appears.

The Limbic System

This is front of mind for me. 

My most recent finding, in the journey to restore my health, is the part of the limbic system.

Our limbic system governs our emotional and behavioural response, including our fight or flight mechanism.

When effected by chronic illness the limbic system can become impaired; stuck in a permanent state of fight or flight. This leads to worsening of symptoms and negative thought patterns, further compounding the issue. 

I certainly got into a habit of thinking I’d never recover; a narrative that I was an ill person and always would be. 

The issue with that is that thinking makes it so. Spend all day telling yourself this and your body will accommodate.

Changing the Narrative

My job now is to change that narrative. 

I’ve started a programme called DNRS. It’s a visualisation technique aimed at using neuroplasticity to rewire the brain.

It came recommended by someone who’d healed from a similar condition. She swears by it; by far her most important part of recovery. Do some digging and you’ll find hundreds of similar testimonials.

The programme is taught over a 15 hour video course during which you learn the techniques. Your task then is an hour a day of visualisation for the next six months. The visualisation largely consists of imagining yourself well and energetic, rewriting your brain’s narrative.

It’s a rather remarkable thing.

After just a couple of weeks I find myself in a much improved frame of mind, and able to bounce back quicker when symptoms arise. It’s amazing, when you look for it, just how often the mind can drift to negative thoughts. One can be consumed by nothing else.

The implications of this are far reaching. Thinking really does make it so. 

So what plays across your mind all day? What are you thinking into reality?

Perhaps it all sounds too American for us Brits. We love a grumble and wince at anything too woo woo. But clearly there’s something here. Our thoughts have a demonstrable impact on our bodies, and therefore our lives. 

What you think is, therefore, important. Change your thoughts and you really will change your life.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Ulysses by James Joyce

This was quite the experience. I found it completely incomprehensible in various parts. And yet funny and touching in others. Won’t be my last reading of it. I expect I’ll get more out of future efforts. Full review on 1st September.

This is book one in a new book club with Hec A.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (In progress)

Such a wonderful book! Made all the more readable by proceeding Ulysses. It’s a brilliant tale, and amazingly gripping despite its length. I can barely put it down.

A Final Thought 💡

“Keep my word positive. Words become my behaviours. Keep my behaviours positive. Behaviours become my habits. Keep my habits positive. Habits become my values. Keep my values positive. Values become my destiny.”

– Mahatma Gandhi

5 long weeks here. And, crucially, out of London.

What a joy.

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Why?

Why? You might be wondering. And what’s wrong with London?

Valid questions.

London is wonderful city. Especially in the summer. And full of the people I love.

But I get a sense, especially recently, of playing catch up in London. Days bouncing from one thing to the next. Filling every available slot in the diary.

And from that, it’s time for a break

Because, I find, life happens in seasons.

We have the times to charge ahead, where anything’s possible. And the times to… not. When perhaps we need to step back and regroup.

As much as I’d like to be in the former right now, I’m in the latter.

I am occupied both with mending from a recent illness, and navigating the-not-insignificant task of running Unplugged. Fine. Both these can be achieved.

But can they be achieved on top of the busyness and socialising that comes with life in London? Not as far as I can tell.

Relocating out here gives me space.

Whilst I’ll be working, my diary is drastically simplified. My last weeks in London were filled with coffees, drinks, and non-stop events.

And now? I have one social plan in these 5 weeks: Meeting with a friend in the area.

Beyond that the lamentable state of my Italian completely inoculates me from other plans emerging. I can speak, perhaps, five words, three of which mean hello. Hardly a recipe for glittering conversation.

And you know what? I’m delighted. Many hours of solitude lie ahead.

Retreat

A few dear friends, concerned for my wellbeing, have worried whether I’ll be lonely out here. Not a chance.

You see for me this is a retreat. The solitude in itself is the gift.

I do consider myself a sociable chap. Although you might not think it from this newsletter. There are many people in my life who I love spending time with. But for me it’s also important to retreat.

There are two types of retreat:

On one hand we can retreat to withdraw from the world. To escape it.

And on the other we retreat to come back better. To engage more fully.

For me it’s the latter.

I retreat to come back better; to be better for those in my life. I’ve got by during the first half of this year but that’s about it. I can be so much more.

So that’s my plan. A month of quiet, contemplation, and healing; followed by a better version of myself returning to London.

The Plan

What do I actually plan to do out here you might be wondering. Well, not a lot…

I have some work to be getting on with, of course, and a rather extensive healing regime.

And then all that’s left is:

Pootling up and down the surrounding hills.

Long evenings reading.

As many morning sea swims as I can muster.

Weekends roaming the nearby mountains.

And many, many hours alone with my thoughts.

I feel I’ve missed that. There’s a depth of thinking that I just haven’t reached in the frantic recent months. The kind only really possible on a long, aimless walk.

So there you have it. My next month. I can’t promise many excitements, but I’m sure it’ll be enlightening if nothing else.

Andiamo. 🇮🇹

— —
(👆*make that six words!)

+ big thank you to Sandy & Cloudagh for letting me house sit.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Gorbachev by William Tuchman

After Lenin, and the start of the Soviet Union, I felt I was missing the end. The world has no-one to thank for that more than Mikhail Gorbachev. A wonderful book on a remarkable chap.

You are Here by David Nicholls

I do love a good David Nicholls book. Not life changing but certainly enjoyable. An easy read.

Ulysses by James Joyce (in progress)

Gosh. Not an easy read at all. Joyce was quite a character, clearly. This one will take some work…

This is book one in a new book club with Hec A.

A Final Thought 💡

“That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library.”

- Aphra Behn

We’ve chosen 12 books to read. One a month for the next year.

Why, you might be wondering? Good question.

I heard some wonderful advice recently:  

Read old books when you’re young, and young books when you’re old.

Whilst still clinging to my youth, I feel now is the time to read more of the classics.

We’ve gone for iconic books, many of them famously impenetrable. A good challenge for a couple of dyslexics.

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The Books:

1. Ulysses by James Joyce (August ’24)

2. The Odyssey by Homer (September ’24)

3. Moby Dick, or The Whale by Herman Melville (October ’24)

4. Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky (November ’24)

5. The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (December ’24)

6. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (January ’25)

7. The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin (February ’25)

8. The History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides (March ’25)

9. Hamlet by William Shakespeare (April ’25)

10. The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (May ’25)

11. Bleak House by Charles Dickens (June ’25)

12. *Guest Book* (July ’25)

I’ll write a post on each, as will Hec A., and publish on the first of the following month.

How hard can it be?

— —

A note on diversity: I’m painfully aware at the lack of diversity of these authors. For those worried about my resulting development: I truly appreciate the concern, but don’t fear. I can assure you my mother (who subscribes to this) keeps me very accountable on this point. With her help I’ll read a diverse selection alongside these 12.

On Reading

A word on reading, before we kick off.

Reading has had a dramatic impact on my life in recent years.

I got off to a slow start; still fairly illiterate at 10, and a light reader at best through my teens. It’s only in the last six years that I’ve learnt to love reading and now it’s a favourite pastime.

Fiction and non-fiction play different roles, I find. 

Non-fiction is great for developing your mental models of the world; understanding life in a depth that you just can’t get from a tweet. It’s the act of spending hours and hours and hours with a subject, pondering it in the background whilst you read.

Fiction, on the other hand, gives an amazing window into the human condition. To see a world through so many different pairs of eyes helps develop empathy and understanding of what it means to be human. 

Reading, hand in hand with meditation, has helped develop my equanimity, concentration, and dare I say wisdom (albeit from a low base).

I find I’m a better person the more I read; kinder and more present, and, I suspect, better at my job.

Off we go

The purpose of this book club is two fold: 

1. Accountability. This isn’t the first challenge H and I have started, and they often fizzle out. This is a public commitment to do a year.

2. To gain from these books. I find it’s the longer, tougher reads that I get the most from. They stay on far longer in the memory. Many these books are famously difficult, but famously rewarding if conquered. Let’s find out.

First up is Ulysses. Perhaps the most impenetrable of the lot. I made it through about 20 pages, on a previous attempt, before losing steam. This time, I’m sure, will be different.

If you fancy joining in then please do! All welcome, and drop me a reply if you are. Would love to hear from you.

I’ll begin this very evening.

A Final Thought 💡

"The best books... are those that tell you what you know already."

– George Orwell

Sending emails, having meetings, doing shit for the sake of it.

Some things need doing, of course, the issue is everything else.

And the big problem with the shit that doesn’t need doing: It creates more shit that doesn’t need doing.

Such is life.

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Something

The human tendency is to do something. We keep ourselves busy.

Action, in itself, is great- essential in fact. The issue is it’s rarely the right action. Usually it’s anything but. We busy ourselves with nonsense.

There’s a wonderful little book on this called Parkinson’s Law. The law, for those not familiar, is:

“Work expands to fill the time available for it’s completion.”

It sounds basic, but meditate on it and you’ll see it’s deeply profound.

There’s a section in the book that highlights our point here perfectly. Parkinson shares the below data for headcount in the British Colonial Office:

Read the last two sentences.

During the 19 year period, in which the number of colonies were considerably diminished, headcount ballooned.

What on earth were they doing all day?

Administrating; work for the sake of work.

And let’s be honest, they’re not alone. The phenomenon is the rule rather than the exception. We’re drowning in busy work.

Nothing

Often the right action is doing nothing at all.

Yet it’s uncomfortable.

Napoleon, famously, would wait three weeks before opening non-urgent correspondence. He found things resolved themselves by the time he got to them. Isn’t that wonderful?

Could you do that? Read none of your incoming correspondence for three weeks? I expect the mere thought of it makes you shiver.

We can take it a step further.

Not only are interventions often not needed, and therefore a waste of time, they’re harmful.

In medicine it’s called Iatrogenics, meaning caused by the healer. Modern practice is rife with it. The medical intervention does more harm than good. As Blaise Pascal once said: “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

And yet look at us…

Compulsively checking and sending emails, and generally filling our days. What has it all come to?

Liberating

It’s actually a very liberating idea.

So much time is governed by a need to get things done. But there’s really no need to worry. Most of it doesn’t matter anyway.

I find, without fail, the more I do in a given week the less I get done. It’s the weeks with white space that make the difference. That’s where the breakthroughs come.

Amos Tversky once said:

“The secret to doing good research is always to be a little underemployed. You waste years by not being able to waste hours.”

I suspect the same is true of life.

Blink and you’ll miss it.

What I’ve Been Reading 📚

Lenin the Dictator by Victor Sebestyen

A wonderful book on a complex character. Hilarious in parts- quite an achievement given the appalling nature of the story.

Thank you Hec Alexander for the recommendation!

In Memoriam by Alice Winn

Such a great book. A tale of two public school boys in love and thrown into the First World War. Incredibly haunting and beautifully written.

Thank you to my Mother for the recommendation!

A Final Thought 💡

It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?

- Henry David Thoreau

Instead, emotion and ego run wild. Anger runs deep.

It applies to each of us. Do we get the revenge, hold the grudge, prove the point? Or do we take the pragmatic approach? 

They’re two very different paths.

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Deng

There have been few greater pragmatists than Deng Xiaoping.

Deng turned China into the global powerhouse we know today. He took over a country in ruins; still reeling from Chairman Mao’s catastrophic cultural revolution.

A word on Mao first. He was not such a pragmatist.

His 27 year rule of China was driven by ego.

Every decision taken to strengthen the cult of Mao. His sheer force of nature drove him to the very top, creating a dictatorship. But that same force led to disaster. 

The regime became deluded. The government obsessed with showing growth at all costs. During Mao’s “Great Leap Forward” every result was falsified. Everything from food production to steel was dramatically inflated. All to show just how great a job Mao was doing.

This soon lead to tragedy. The falsified figures were taken as fact, and obscured a looming famine. The famine hit is 1959 and over the next two years tens of millions of people died, some estimates suggest 55 million. 

Mao responded with denial.

He continued the narrative that all was well. His ego ruled supreme.

Changing the Narrative

Deng was different. He had a strength that Mao did not:

Humility.

Deng suffered during Mao’s reign, spending years ostracised and labelled an enemy of the state. But he was a pragmatist. And he knew that regardless of what had happen, if he wanted to change China he must stay on Mao’s side.

So he bided his time, and when Mao relented he stepped calmly back into the fold. Not a drop of resentment. 

Whilst Mao lived Deng stayed loyal to him, and his ideology; long after he realised it wasn’t the path forward. He knew that the cult of Mao remained strong and to win the people he must remain inline with Mao, for now.

Through sheer pragmatism and humility Deng manoeuvred himself into power, emerging as the country’s leader in the volatile period after Mao. And it was then, once in power that his pragmatism truly shone through.

China was on its knees. A proud, and once great country now well behind much of the world. It took a leader like Deng to recognise that, to accept it, and to do something about it.

He completely changed the narrative. Gone were the claims of China’s greatness, replaced instead by admissions of it’s failings.

Deng used this same humility with the Global Powers.

To Japan he spoke of how far behind them China were and how they must learn from Japanese technology. He sat down with the US and agreed to put aside the thorny issue of Taiwan (yes, even then). He saw no progress would be made without concession.

He picked his battle, parked his ego, and restarted a nation.

Ten years after his 1978 reforms China was flying, growing 10% a year. By 1998 income per capita was up a staggering 1400%. And we all know where it went from there.

Pick Your Battles

We have opportunities for pragmatism everyday.

When we’re triggered by the unreasonable email or sly comment, it’s easy to act with ego. To protect our pride and to not let the bastards get away with it.

But what if we stopped asking what’s right and what we deserve, and asked instead:

What is in my best interest?

The answer is rarely firing back an angry email, or belittling the other person. No, the pragmatic response is to ignore the emotions. To empathise with the other person, and meet them where they are. Do that and your days will become easier.

Take receiving a fine for example. People will spend months, or even years, contesting a £50 fine. By which point the cost of time and sanity far out weigh the monetary value.

It’s the principle we tell ourselves. A dangerous phrase.

If Deng can let go years of mental and physical abuse to him and his family, then you can let go a strongly worded letter from Hackney council.

Because as you stand there with that letter you have a choice: Do I fight this and sign up for the costs of doing so, or do I pay it, move on with my life and focus on bigger things?

We have hundreds of these decisions each day. So pick your battles, park you ego, and try on a little pragmatism. Good luck.

A Final Thought 💡

“Humility and knowledge in poor clothes excel pride and ignorance in costly attire.”

– William Penn

Remarkable- you’d have been a brave soul indeed to bet on that 10 years ago. But here we are. 

Much to pondering from the last decade. Here’s a couple of reflections.

It’ll all be over in a heartbeat

The decade’s most profound moment came last March; during a Vipassana in Herefordshire.

A Vipassana, for those not familiar, is a type of silent retreat.

Mine was ten days and involved nine hours a day meditating. I’d sit cross legged on a cushion, for hours and hours and hours. Not easy, I can assure you.

Each day, three of the nine hours were spent in one hour chunks called Strong Determination. The goal? Not to move a muscle. For the whole hour. 

The first couple were agony.

But then a funny thing happened. I began to adjust. They become almost pleasurable. It was during such a session that a breakthrough came.

There I was, body still but mind pleading for a break. I pleaded for the bell ringing and the session ending. Surely it can’t be long now? And then I had a realisation: 

This session would end.

I remembered a similar restlessness last session, a feeling it would never end. But it did. And this would too.

I realised that once it ended I could rest, and then that rest too would end it would be into more mediation this afternoon.

That too would end.

And soon it would be the evening lecture.

This too would pass.

I’d go to bed. Tomorrow would come and go. Hours of meditation; coming and passing. The days would go by and soon the retreat, too, would end.

I could picture myself heading back out it into the world. Soon I’d be back to my life. I’d return to work.

Then an upcoming holiday.

It wouldn’t be long until summer arrived. Autumn. Winter.

This year too would end.

And another year would pass. Unplugged would grow and evolve, as would my life. I’d have a family.

The years would pass and I’d grow old. 

Sat there on that cushion I could see my old-self wrinkled and smiling, clear as if he were sitting in front of me.

I realised then and there: One day I would die. And it would all come around in a heartbeat.

I felt such a deep sense of calm in that moment. A complete peace with the fleeting nature of it all. 

Blink and you really might miss it.

Yet we have so much time

And yet, and yet…

That day is not today. And perhaps not for many days to come. And those days are long.

We miss, I feel, just how much time we have. A life is easily wished away. Waiting for that big, exciting thing: The holiday, the perfect partner, or a simple turning of our fortunes.

Well, what if they don’t turn? Should that life not still be lived?

The truth is we have many hours each day. And if we can really live them then it’s more than enough.

No, our problem comes from an insatiable need to fill that time. And in doing so, to fill what’s missing in us.

I entered this decade feeling like I didn’t have what I needed. I was missing something. Something I felt could be solved if I found success, or status. Then I would finally feel like enough.

It took me half the decade to see the folly in that; at another retreat, this time in the Himalayas.

I’d booked myself in for 10 days of silence to address the deep dissatisfaction that had been building. Frankly, I was exhausted. The previous decade had been a drug-and-alcohol fuelled blur. One big charade to fit in to this world.

But as you might imagine it had not worked, and there I was- at 25, a lost soul.

Yet 10 days later I was transformed. The idea that shook me most was the Buddhist concept of attachment: The feeling that I need *this* to be happy. Be it wealth, status, a person- you name it.

I realised then and there that I already had everything I needed; and I always had done.

Many times in the last decade I’ve had what 20-year-old-Hector might have thought of as successes. But they’re so fleeting. I’d reach them and then it was the next thing.

The truth is that more is never enough, and life is wished away waiting for something external to finally make us feel like enough.

The less we want, the less we wish away today, and actually live it. Do this and it’s a very long life indeed.

But it’s tricky, I write this with a cold today and, I’ll be honest, I’ve frequently found myself wishing to be a fews days in the future, on the other side of it.

There’s a Haitian proverb that comes to mind: Over mountains there are mountains.

Either we spend our life cursing the endless mountains; or we learn to love them. The choice is ours.

A Final Thought 💡

“It is not the length of life, but the depth of life. He who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.”

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Parts 1, 2 and 3 in case you missed them.

This week it’s treatment & my general reflections. Enjoy.

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Treatment

I’ll keep this as brief as possible. Do bare with me.

How does one de-mould?

Well, there’s four main areas to solve:

1. Removing the mycotoxins from the cells.

2. Repairing the detoxification system.

3. Killing mould colonisation elsewhere in the body.

4. Repairing damage caused to the body’s various systems.

These four areas are tackled with:

1. Substances called Binders that literally pull the toxins out of the cells. Activated Charcoal is a well known example. Certain binders work better for certain toxins.

2. Supporting the body’s various detox processes: The lymphatic system, the liver, bile production, the renal system, etc.

3. Antifungals- either food (garlic, turmeric, etc) or supplements.

4. Extensive supplements to aid repair of organs like the gut.

What this looks like in practice is many supplements and simple, nutritionally dense, organic food. I’m told that the solution to pollution is dilution; so it’s coupled with lots of water and herbal teas.

The challenge is it’s hard to get an exact read on any of it. A healthy dose of trial and error is needed. And it must all be done gradually. Ramp too fast and the body is flooded with more toxins than it can handle.

And then strap in for months or years. Easy.

Beyond this there are some more experimental treatments I’m exploring:

1. Peptide Therapy - famous peptides include insulin and semaglutide (Ozempic). There are hundreds and a number are thought to help here.

2. IV Ozone Therapy - Ozone is O^3 & has been shown to be incredibly effective when aiding healing in the body. Another one that comes highly recommended for mould toxicity.

3. Infrared Sauna - Great for aiding detoxification.

4. DNRA - Dynamic Neural Retraining System, a programme to rewrite your brain’s response mechanisms.

And finally, the step I’m most excited about:

Getting out of London for a few weeks.

Being in London is not conducive to healing, I feel. Not just the environment but the general busy-ness.

This summer I’m house sitting for 5 weeks in a small Italian village.

I’ll be working but plan to pass the weeks with as few plans as possible, spending my days pootling around; a favourite activity of mine.

Reflections

1. I’m extremely grateful this has happened. Two big reasons:

Firstly: Although it’s been rocky, it’s forced me to learn more about my health than I would have done in a lifetime. I’m full confident I can not only get better from this, but also reach a level of health I haven’t previously had.

Secondly: It’s been quite the opportunity to practice my equanimity. I’ve always preached in this newsletter about enjoying the setbacks; Amor Fati being a favourite mantra (A love of fate). Well, this was my chance, and not my last chance either I expect. Do I get it right every day? Certainly not, I’ve had my fair share of gloomy patches in the last year. But the optimism never completely left. It was there when needed.

2. There’s an undiagnosed epidemic going on.

I had absolutely no idea mould was anything more than an aesthetic inconvenience; and functional medicine, a sudo-science. But this is very real. No wonder we have skyrocketing autoimmune issues in society. Cetainly not the only cause but clearly far more prevalent than we think.

I predict time will reveal mould, and other toxins, to be behind the health issues of millions. Similar to the surge in Lyme’s disease diagnosis’ in the last two decades.

3. Your health has to come first.

Everything else- your work, your relationships, you name it- is affected by your health. If that’s not good, you’re not going to be any use to anyone. And we seem to have normalised sub-par health. Feeling crap, bloated, and low energy is just “life” for millions.

I’ve been a shadow of my former self at points in this last year. Less kind, less present, lower energy. So much of the joy in life is being there for the people you share it with. And, if I’m honest, I’ve left a lot to be desired recently.

It can feel like focusing on yourself, and your own health, is selfish, especially when others are struggling too. But you have to help yourself to help others. If anything it’s the selfless thing to do.

Get that sorted and you can get back out there to make a positive stamp on the world.

As for me? That’s exactly what I intend to do. Wish me luck.

— —

And that’s a wrap. If you made it this far, then well done. I’ll be writing this every two weeks going forward, so next one due 23rd June. Until then.

A Final Thought 💡

"Don't despair: despair suggests you are in total control and know what is coming. You don't – surrender to events with hope."

– Alain de Botton

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Finally. After four years of searching. An answer.

From Sarah the physio.

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Toxic

You should get tested for mould. She said.

Mould? I thought. Seriously?

Sure. I ventured. Let me see how I get on with the gut healing and then we’ll see.

Unperturbed, Sarah gave me details of a Functional Medicine Specialist as I made my exit.

And that was the last time I gave any I thought to that.

Until, that is, that fateful day in Mabel.

As I pondered my predicament Sarah’s suggestion popped into my mind.

It still sounded faintly ridiculous. How could mould possible concern us here? But by this stage I was out of ideas.

So, upon my return to London, I suppressed my scepticism and dug out the details.

A week later my tests were on the way.

Whilst waiting I decided to do my own investigating. I was obviously familiar with mould but only as an aesthetic annoyance in one’s home. Beyond that I was stumped.

Some googling quickly got me to a condition called “Mould Toxicity”, and then a book: Toxic by Dr. Neil Nathan. Intrigued, I ordered a copy.

The book arrived.

It took all of 10 minutes of reading to realise this was it. I’d found the culprit. No test required.

It was all here.

And then I thought back and it all feel into place:

The mould in my flat during lockdown when this all began.

And then there was Epping, when things really deteriorated. We were right next to the forest meaning the flat got extremely damp. A few weeks after moving in and our bedroom wall was covered with mould, right next where I slept. After a couple of months I cleaned it up, but, as I was reading, that’s not enough. Billions of spores take to the air.

There was no doubt in my mind, this was it.

I finally had my answer.

Epidemic

What I read was unbelievable.

An undiagnosed epidemic… Causes everything from brain fog, depression and leaky gut, to chronic fatigue and serious autoimmune conditions… An estimated one million Americans are living with this undiagnosed.

Surely not all from household mould? I thought. How have I not heard about this before?

We’re exposed to toxins all the time: “Biotoxins”

From heavy metals, to chemicals, to the worst of the lot: mycotoxins, emitted from spores of household mould.

For 75% of the population this is manageable. They can detox them just fine. And then there’s the other 25%. They carry a gene making them far more susceptible to biotoxin sickness.

The toxins can get into their very cells. Once this happens the toxins start to shut down the body’s detoxification system making the individual sicker over time.

(yes, I appreciate the irony that I lost my own ability to detoxify whilst running a digital detox startup…)

These toxins cause a cascade of autoimmune issues as the body tries in vain to fight off the danger. Which, in turn, can lead to decades of severe life-altering issues.

Sounds like I’d caught it early.

Result

The results finally arrived.

Confirmed: Extremely high in something called Gliotoxin, one of many mycotoxins. And high in Mercury amongst other markers out of wack.

Gliotoxins are particularly damaging to the brain even being cited as a likely cause of Multiple Sclerosis. Yikes.

To add to the complication the test, a urine test, only shows the toxins your body is able to discrete. There maybe other toxins that you’re so saturated with you can’t even get them into the urine.

Therefore it often happens, so I’ve read, that your toxin levels can go up during the first few months of detoxing, as your body regains some detoxing abilit.

So the Gliotoxin might not be the end of it.

But regardless; I had an answer. An immense relief.

So what happens next?

Well.. The good news it’s completely curable. There are stories of people treating mould toxicity and multi-decade conditions such as Crohn’s Disease completely disappearing.

The less good news is it takes a long time. Six months if you’re lucky, to multiple years in many cases. It’s also a particularly awkward process.

But one I’m excited for.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt truly well. Yet I have not-a-shadow of a doubt that I’ll get back there.

And for that, I can’t wait.

— —

That’s Part 3 done! Back next week for a Part 4, the final chapter; on treatment and reflections. See you then.

A Final Thought 💡

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”

- Dr. Seuss

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