The winter was sucking the life out of me.
But I was still holding on. I was holding on to the way I had pictured my Queenstown experience to unfold. I denied my naivety and in my inexperience, and was distracted by my own arrogance, my own way and my own plan. It was the way of Joshua St Clair, and not the way of QRC, the college I was attending. I was a fool who couldn't wait six months, and troubles erupted like pimples because of my inability to surrender to the flow of life.
Salvation was right beneath my very nose. QRC had its own accomodation called 'Shotover Lodge' that housed many returning students. Yet, I believed I had already transcended my student-hood, and turned away from Shotover Lodge. It was 15 minutes out of town, lost in a seperate valley, and deprived of the mystical waters that lapse lake Wakatipu. I wanted to be in town where all the hustle and bustle was, and that's how I ended up signing a contract to Karlin's ice-shack.
But it was the venomous opposite of what I was searching for, and I was ushered out into the cold by Karlin's bony fingers. After failing to find a flat on my own accord, I succumbed to my last resort, the college, and approached the manager of the Shotover Lodge as he darted around the QRC cafe. Thankfully, he had a spare room, and I moved in two days later. Shotover Lodge was my saviour! It was in a bowl of silence and nature, peering into the cinema of evolving seasons. Perched proudly on the base of a mountain, it ushered me in warmly as I showed up for the first time. It was the perfect place for me all along! I felt like such a fool to have ever turned my nose away from this great Lodge.
I arrived toppling over my baggage, receiving the key from the front desk, and being shown to my room by the friendly attendant. It was room 221.
When I first opened the door, I let out a huge sigh of relief. My room was twice the size of the last, it had a lion of a heater, and the window looked out to the wilderness. This was the real headquarters for Joshua St Clair - secret, sacred, and serene. There was nobody here to disturb me.
Except myself.
My state of being was fractured, my mind weak. My will to win at life was in the gutter, and I seemed to be in no hurry to drop to my knees in the mud and retrieve it. I was comfortable now - I had warmth, I had safety, and I had the internet. The age of uncertainty was over, and the time of deep distraction had begun!
I was distracted. I distracted myself from the real work I needed to be doing, like piano practice, consciousness work and even basic things like cleaning the bathroom and cooking meals. Laziness engulfed me, and I bought packs of rubber pies and frozen meals for my dinners. They tasted like a penguins regurgitation, but my motivation levels and finances had hit rock bottom. What's worse is that I was afraid of making a fool of myself in the shared kitchen, which really demonstrates just how weak my mind was at the time. I sunk into my bed with a rubber pie, loosing pastry flakes to the bed covers, and watching Rick and Morty every night. Online entertainment had me hooked like crack once again. It was instant pleasure, instant joy.
Why practice the piano when I could just watch another episode of Rick and Morty? Why start my weekends with a meditation and some exercise when I could sleep in? Comfort was so plush, pleasure so easy.
The remainder of my inspiration was siphoned out of me in the last few weeks of my college semester. In hopes to restore my inspiration, I tried consoling the bottom of tequila shot glasses in Queenstown nightclubs. But it only had me slipping over the sopping bathroom floors, pissing away my guilt. Tequila was not the sprite. It was the sermon! I could see that I was sacrificing my time, my energy and my money for an experience that was a detriment to my cause. Isn't this the definition of madness?
I was taunting myself, stuck in cycles like a hamster on a wheel. And worst of all was that I had all the right keys in my pocket, but I just couldn't find the energy to lift the heavy sloth from my shoulders, and actually use the keys to unlock the door which was right in front of me every moment of every day.
As well as Rick and Morty, I was addicted to a Youtuber called Leo Gura of Actualized.org. Every one of Leo's videos would blow my mind, and I quickly became addicted. My eyes were fixated on the computer screen every night as I spooned microwaved slop down my gullet. I minced through his entire collection of videos, absorbing countless profound insights about how to build a rich and inspiring life. But none of it was working. What I failed to recognise was that this was the biggest distraction of them all!
Actualized.org was my information drip. Every night I injected the needle into my arm, and downloaded data, knowledge, and intelligence into my bloodstream. But it meant absolutely NOTHING. I was a fiend for knowledge, but it just coursed through my blood like a rabid dog. If I wanted to see tangible results in my life, I needed to get physical and TAKE ACTION! To actually do the meditation. Do the piano practice. Clean the bathroom. Fix my diet - it was all so obvious. And yet, I still couldn't nudge my sludge behaviour.
Something needed to be done. I attempted to kickstart a proper piano practice, but I was seeing my imperfections and not my progress. I tried meditation, but my impatience was like a monkey on my shoulders. I tried buying some healthy groceries, but I couldn't resist the effortless microwave meals and the mouth-watering chocolate. I was tethered to my disastrous ways - HOMEOSTASIS!!
I lay on my crumpled bed sheets, wondering why it was so hard to get my life straight again. Where was all my life force? My vitality? My deep urge to grow? Why had I lost touch with these things? The answer to these questions was right under my nose the whole time, and I was completely oblivious to it.
Facebook. It was Facebook. The ultimate distraction. It is such a powerful distraction that I didn't even realise it was a distraction. But now I was starting to become conscious of the fact that I was heavily addicted. After a brief observation of my actions, I noticed that Facebook reeled me in about once every 10 minutes! I opened it up on my laptop or my phone and just mindlessly scrolled down my 'feed'.
It's called a 'feed' for a reason. Everything that touched my eyes was being downloaded into my subconscious, feeding my mind. What information was I absorbing? 90% SHIT! My mind was on a diet of SHIT. Pure garbage: devious marketing, crackpot humour, 'the image'. Facebook is a succubus! My inspiration, my motivation, my life force - all of it was being sucked out of me by Facebook. I recognised this, and yet I still opened Facebook a million times a day. The addiction was too deeply engrained, and I was unable to kick it. But I was able to make adjustments to my 'feed'.
I was a drained vessel. Empty.
Inspiration was the nectar that I needed. I pondered on the matter, thinking about how I could channel more inspiration into my life. It was clear that college was a heavy burden, and my internet addictions and distractions were vices to escape the heavy reality of college work. But it was time for them to go, because the college semester was ending, and I had 2 weeks of freedom ahead of me. It was an opportunity. A chance to oil the engine, get myself back onto the rails, and charge onwards.
Quite ironically, the way forward was pitched to me through a conversation on Facebook. So of course, I can't deny the benefits of Facebook. It was a message from my good friend from home, Tom. It was a message that spawned butterflies in my stomach. It was a message about Sheep, the band I still happened to be in!
"We've got a gig at the Crown hotel! You guys gotta get to Dunedin ASAP so we can practice!"
But I was still holding on. I was holding on to the way I had pictured my Queenstown experience to unfold. I denied my naivety and in my inexperience, and was distracted by my own arrogance, my own way and my own plan. It was the way of Joshua St Clair, and not the way of QRC, the college I was attending. I was a fool who couldn't wait six months, and troubles erupted like pimples because of my inability to surrender to the flow of life.
Salvation was right beneath my very nose. QRC had its own accomodation called 'Shotover Lodge' that housed many returning students. Yet, I believed I had already transcended my student-hood, and turned away from Shotover Lodge. It was 15 minutes out of town, lost in a seperate valley, and deprived of the mystical waters that lapse lake Wakatipu. I wanted to be in town where all the hustle and bustle was, and that's how I ended up signing a contract to Karlin's ice-shack.
But it was the venomous opposite of what I was searching for, and I was ushered out into the cold by Karlin's bony fingers. After failing to find a flat on my own accord, I succumbed to my last resort, the college, and approached the manager of the Shotover Lodge as he darted around the QRC cafe. Thankfully, he had a spare room, and I moved in two days later. Shotover Lodge was my saviour! It was in a bowl of silence and nature, peering into the cinema of evolving seasons. Perched proudly on the base of a mountain, it ushered me in warmly as I showed up for the first time. It was the perfect place for me all along! I felt like such a fool to have ever turned my nose away from this great Lodge.
I arrived toppling over my baggage, receiving the key from the front desk, and being shown to my room by the friendly attendant. It was room 221.
When I first opened the door, I let out a huge sigh of relief. My room was twice the size of the last, it had a lion of a heater, and the window looked out to the wilderness. This was the real headquarters for Joshua St Clair - secret, sacred, and serene. There was nobody here to disturb me.
Except myself.
My state of being was fractured, my mind weak. My will to win at life was in the gutter, and I seemed to be in no hurry to drop to my knees in the mud and retrieve it. I was comfortable now - I had warmth, I had safety, and I had the internet. The age of uncertainty was over, and the time of deep distraction had begun!
I was distracted. I distracted myself from the real work I needed to be doing, like piano practice, consciousness work and even basic things like cleaning the bathroom and cooking meals. Laziness engulfed me, and I bought packs of rubber pies and frozen meals for my dinners. They tasted like a penguins regurgitation, but my motivation levels and finances had hit rock bottom. What's worse is that I was afraid of making a fool of myself in the shared kitchen, which really demonstrates just how weak my mind was at the time. I sunk into my bed with a rubber pie, loosing pastry flakes to the bed covers, and watching Rick and Morty every night. Online entertainment had me hooked like crack once again. It was instant pleasure, instant joy.
Why practice the piano when I could just watch another episode of Rick and Morty? Why start my weekends with a meditation and some exercise when I could sleep in? Comfort was so plush, pleasure so easy.
The remainder of my inspiration was siphoned out of me in the last few weeks of my college semester. In hopes to restore my inspiration, I tried consoling the bottom of tequila shot glasses in Queenstown nightclubs. But it only had me slipping over the sopping bathroom floors, pissing away my guilt. Tequila was not the sprite. It was the sermon! I could see that I was sacrificing my time, my energy and my money for an experience that was a detriment to my cause. Isn't this the definition of madness?
I was taunting myself, stuck in cycles like a hamster on a wheel. And worst of all was that I had all the right keys in my pocket, but I just couldn't find the energy to lift the heavy sloth from my shoulders, and actually use the keys to unlock the door which was right in front of me every moment of every day.
As well as Rick and Morty, I was addicted to a Youtuber called Leo Gura of Actualized.org. Every one of Leo's videos would blow my mind, and I quickly became addicted. My eyes were fixated on the computer screen every night as I spooned microwaved slop down my gullet. I minced through his entire collection of videos, absorbing countless profound insights about how to build a rich and inspiring life. But none of it was working. What I failed to recognise was that this was the biggest distraction of them all!
Actualized.org was my information drip. Every night I injected the needle into my arm, and downloaded data, knowledge, and intelligence into my bloodstream. But it meant absolutely NOTHING. I was a fiend for knowledge, but it just coursed through my blood like a rabid dog. If I wanted to see tangible results in my life, I needed to get physical and TAKE ACTION! To actually do the meditation. Do the piano practice. Clean the bathroom. Fix my diet - it was all so obvious. And yet, I still couldn't nudge my sludge behaviour.
Something needed to be done. I attempted to kickstart a proper piano practice, but I was seeing my imperfections and not my progress. I tried meditation, but my impatience was like a monkey on my shoulders. I tried buying some healthy groceries, but I couldn't resist the effortless microwave meals and the mouth-watering chocolate. I was tethered to my disastrous ways - HOMEOSTASIS!!
I lay on my crumpled bed sheets, wondering why it was so hard to get my life straight again. Where was all my life force? My vitality? My deep urge to grow? Why had I lost touch with these things? The answer to these questions was right under my nose the whole time, and I was completely oblivious to it.
Facebook. It was Facebook. The ultimate distraction. It is such a powerful distraction that I didn't even realise it was a distraction. But now I was starting to become conscious of the fact that I was heavily addicted. After a brief observation of my actions, I noticed that Facebook reeled me in about once every 10 minutes! I opened it up on my laptop or my phone and just mindlessly scrolled down my 'feed'.
It's called a 'feed' for a reason. Everything that touched my eyes was being downloaded into my subconscious, feeding my mind. What information was I absorbing? 90% SHIT! My mind was on a diet of SHIT. Pure garbage: devious marketing, crackpot humour, 'the image'. Facebook is a succubus! My inspiration, my motivation, my life force - all of it was being sucked out of me by Facebook. I recognised this, and yet I still opened Facebook a million times a day. The addiction was too deeply engrained, and I was unable to kick it. But I was able to make adjustments to my 'feed'.
I was a drained vessel. Empty.
Inspiration was the nectar that I needed. I pondered on the matter, thinking about how I could channel more inspiration into my life. It was clear that college was a heavy burden, and my internet addictions and distractions were vices to escape the heavy reality of college work. But it was time for them to go, because the college semester was ending, and I had 2 weeks of freedom ahead of me. It was an opportunity. A chance to oil the engine, get myself back onto the rails, and charge onwards.
Quite ironically, the way forward was pitched to me through a conversation on Facebook. So of course, I can't deny the benefits of Facebook. It was a message from my good friend from home, Tom. It was a message that spawned butterflies in my stomach. It was a message about Sheep, the band I still happened to be in!
"We've got a gig at the Crown hotel! You guys gotta get to Dunedin ASAP so we can practice!"
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