the Sit.

Humanistic Musings from Kathmandu

Leroy Wiseman — Tue, 24 May 2022 23:30:41 +0000

Why does it feel good to help others?

Why do people devote their time and lives to uplift so-called strangers?

For sure, some egos may get a kick out of it, but I feel that the fundamental driving force comes from our true nature.

Our true nature, being that which recognises itself deeply, in so-called others.

That, which recognises an intrinsic duty of care for one another, as a self-evident truth.

Acting from this recognition, one naturally seeks the best for all.

When we act in a way that benefits others, benefits the world, benefits the whole – it feels good.

It feels good because we are uplifting humanity, uplifting nature – uplifting ourselves.

We innately seek acceptance and bonding with each other, it is the fundamental pull. Why?

Along with the evolutionarily adaptive function of social bonding – on a deeper level, we seek union with each other.

Something in us feels more whole when we are together, when we connect, when we love.

Love: the demarcation between “You” and “I” becomes less defined.

Duality fades and the underlying pulse of oneness takes predominance in your heart.

You can love a lover.

You can also love a stranger.

When you feel love for all people, it doesn’t matter who they are.

They are your human family – born here a blink ago, into an insane world, trying to figure shit out as fast as possible and live a life.

Like individual branches, stemming from a tree core.

Billions of waves expressing across an ocean.

Affirm the common humanity.

Affirm the common bond.

Peace.

Written in Kathmandu Nepal after 22 days of trekking to Everest Base Camp, via the Three Passes. Aged 21, November 2016

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Protected: Recurring Priorities

Mike Britton — Tue, 24 May 2022 23:01:24 +0000

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Journaling as A Pillar Practice

Leroy Wiseman — Fri, 22 Apr 2022 03:23:00 +0000

I see Pillar Practice’s as ‘holistic pursuits’ with intrinsic and compounding value.

Holistic, in that they positively impact my entire world.
Intrinsic, in that their value accrues immediately, in and of themselves.
Compounding, because the longer I do them, the more value I get over time.

Writing for me is such a practice.

With pen and paper, I have untied previously inarticulable knots, into manageable and understandable strings of experience, causation, coherence, and meaning.

Leroy Wiseman Tweet

On Journaling

Journaling offers a window into my mind, across time.

It is a long-form, long-term conversation with oneself.

A convergence of different parts, and states of self, interacting across time through lead and ink and paper.

For me, a journal is not just a container for thoughts, it is an active tool for thinking.

If asking the right question is half an answer , and half an answer leads to a better question, one can repeat this process and dig closer to the truth of ones experience.

It is an active workable medium, to think into, and think against.

It is also a record of personal growth and failure, of learning and mistakes – an account of the oscillating symphony and cacophony that has been my mental life.

Quite literally, the journaling process has functioned as a form of self-therapy.

For example, the process of clearly articulating my pain and past experiences, carefully tracing their roots with ruthless introspective honestly, and uncovering and forming coherent narratives, which enable understanding and acceptance – is profoundly cathartic and freeing.

With pen and paper, I have untied previously inarticulable knots, into manageable and understandable strings of experience, causation, coherence, and meaning.

Indispensible to this process, has been the literary medium of poetry

On Poetry

I began writing poems pretty organically, out of impulse, really.

I didn’t think of it as ‘poetry’ as such – I was just assembling my innermost questions and thoughts, in a way that I found aesthetically and semantically satisfying.

I find poetry a useful medium of literary expression because, by its nature, it is unrestricted.

In particular, metaphor and symbolism offer outlets for abstract expression, to release things that would ordinarily escape words.

It helps me uncover things, put form to my feelings, and make better sense of my life.

I wrote the below poem when I was twenty-one, whilst on an overnight bus from New Delhi to Rishikesh in India.

In the dark hours before dawn, I realised it was the 2nd year anniversary of my friend’s suicide.

The words came through me spontaneously, as waves of emotion flowed onto the page.

Fallen Moon

Don’t remember me and cry.

I’m not a memory, I did not die.

I’m with you when you watch the moon.

Feel me there, as I feel you.

Who am I? my body’s gone.

I am that shiver, in the song.

Sit on that lonely dock with me.

I’m there with you, yet I am free.

Free to roll this tide away,

Please wipe your tears, I am okay.

I felt the tears, I cried them too,

Please know that I was there with you.

Ray of light, across the wake,

Behind the Myra, I am awake.

I still am, in every way,

accept my body, I am okay.

I am not lost, and nor are you,

I’m always here, this is the truth.

Be still and feel, I talk to you.

Sometimes we come as cockatoos.

Sit with me, the morning sun,

I am your brother, I am your son.

Feel me there, as I feel you.

It is the link between us two.

I am the water, moon and sky.

I am awake, I did not die.

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Opening The Small Talk Trap

Leroy Wiseman — Fri, 08 Apr 2022 18:29:00 +0000

We report on the ‘there and then’ of the outer world
(objects, events, activities, plans, other people etc)
and miss sharing the ‘here and now’ of our inner world
(our experience, feelings, thoughts, ideas, impressions, challenges etc).

Leroy Wiseman Tweet

I recognise in my personality, a need for authenticity and depth in my interpersonal relationships. In part, I recognise this in response to the visceral aversion and discomfort I feel when engaged in ‘small talk’.

I conceptualise small talk as a social norm, used reactively by people experiencing interpersonal discomfort, which superficially masks, yet perpetuates, their felt disconnection in social interactions.

Let me unpack that.

Small talk seems to serve as a social soothing mechanism for avoiding the felt discomfort of social disconnection (e.g. felt most acutely during the ‘awkward’ silence).

Ironically, this shallow and largely useless form of communication simultaneously sustains the interpersonal gap between us (i.e. our disconnection).

In other words, the ‘solution’ we use to superficially mask our discomfort (small talk), sustains and perpetuates the original cause of that discomfort (disconnection).

While I understand its utility, insofar as it serves as a social lubricant for further connection – I notice it can become a trap.

For me, the small talk trap is when we get ‘stuck’ at this disconnected, inauthentic level of relating, and never truly get to know each other.

The trap can catch strangers, friends, and families alike.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Yeah good, yourself?”

“Yeah not bad”

“That’s the way.”

(cue small talk)

We report on the ‘there and then’ of the outer world (objects, events, activities, plans, other people etc) and miss sharing the ‘here and now’ of our inner world (our experience, feelings, thoughts, ideas, impressions, challenges etc).

The former is a kind of verbal social custom, veiled as communication.

Whereas the latter offers an opening into each other, into ourselves, and into connection.

A way out of the small talk trap is to bridge an authentic connection, through authentic communication.

It seems to me, that authenticity with others (being ourselves), requires vulnerability (unmasking and therefore unshielding ourselves).

Sharing from that place takes emotional courage, openness, self-awareness, and humility.

Additionally, I feel that selfless listening is essential to authentic communication. This takes genuine curiosity, unconditional acceptance, patience, empathy, and respect for the other, exactly as they are.

Such potent communication is rare in society, and as such, the enriching interpersonal connections and personal growth it affords are similarly rare.

That’s why opportunities to practice it are so valuable to me.

‘the Circle’ is one such opportunity, and the men and women who communicate, and connect authentically together in the Circle, can attest to its power.

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The Voice & The Arrows In My Quiver.

Mike Britton — Mon, 14 Mar 2022 18:24:36 +0000

The Voice

It’s dark outside, the sounds of the waking world are still a ways off, but sleep is no longer a welcome respite from the incessant voices and shallow anxious breathing.

It’s usually around 3:30am when it happens: wide awake, thoughts racing, fear, doubt, stress, anxiety and some version of “I am not enough, I have fucked up, I am a fuck up, can’t do this anymore, why is this happening, why is this happening again, I have let them down, I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t know if I can do it…”

Future fear, ruminating dread and demonising of self.

Those elements seem most prolific.

In my experience, it never leaves completely. However, if I were to think of it as a battle, I would say that my arsenal has improved over the 30 years it has raged in me. I have many more arrows in my quiver, and I have context and perspective.

The voice doesn’t only come out in that predawn period between 3:00am and sunrise.

It speaks at various times of day and night, in any and all scenarios. When jumping on the trampoline with my children, in a business meeting, brushing my teeth or pissing first thing in the morning, gardening, driving, sitting in restaurants, and on it goes.

At those times the voice can be vicious, overwhelming, and paralysing – especially when it has hold of me.

But as I said earlier, I have more arrows in my quiver now.

Recently the voice came to play in the early afternoon. At the time I was swallowing a tablet (a probiotic – I am not medicated and never have been). For whatever reason, I was finding it hard to get the tablet down and the voice was literally screaming at me.

“Really” I said out loud when I finally got it down and swallowed the mouthful of water.

‘Really? Has it really come to that? Is it really necessary? Do you really need to do that?’ – that is what the ”really” meant.

And I said all of that smilingly, because on that afternoon my arrows were straight and strong, and it, the voice, couldn’t take hold of me.

There are times when the voice is silent, places where it can not intrude or where it slinks away. When I shower, when I am meditating, when I am in men’s circle, when I am engaged in a gratitude practice, when I am teaching, and when I am writing.

The voice has a different cadence in all those situations

What I find fascinating upon reflection, is that the absence of the voice is not based on being distracted – when I meditate there are no distractions, and I meditate twice per day, every day.

When I meditate the voice arises, but I have learned to observe it. I have learned not to engage. I have learned to let it be without attaching to it. That allows me to be alone with myself.

That is distinct from being alone at 3:30am when the voice starts (on days it comes to play). Usually, it has been a restless night carried over by something that had happened the day before. For the first few moments of waking there is a period of limbo almost as if my brain is checking in with itself – and then I feel it.

I have labelled it “existential exhaustion” – an awareness of a weariness that no amount of sleep will satisfy. It is a weariness that feels like walking through black treacle. If it were to dominate me, it would take over. It would be paralysing.

I have learned though, that there is a way out.

The way out requires me to recognise and prioritise what I need to; to be straight with those around me, and to recognise that what is required must be prioritised.

If my kidneys did not function and I required dialysis, it would be clear to me that I need to hook up to the dialysis machine, and that if I do not – I will die.

This is no different. That is why I call them my pillar practices.

Pillars for Life

Pillar Practices are a foundation and an underpinning.

Without them, I would collapse internally and externally.

And so I take myself down to the beach pre-dawn, dig a hole in the sand, and sit. I drape myself in a poncho (it is why they call me Sherpa) and I meditate. That pillar is fundamental.

Most mornings I throw myself into the ocean after I sit. I dive under the surf and I count to 22. It restores context and perspective.

The challenges do not go away and neither does the voice, but now they are in context and the voice no longer attacks me.

The same occurs in men’s circle, which is an experience so profoundly different from that I experience in other social interactions and contexts, whether with groups of men or people. I find the voice can be the loudest during social engagements. The environment does not feel safe, I feel disconnected, in my mask, comparing myself and not sharing what is actually there for me.

When I meditate the voice arises, but I have learned to observe it. I have learned not to engage. I have learned to let it be without attaching to it. That allows me to be alone with myself.

Mike Britton Tweet

Men’s circle is everything that such superficial social engagement is not. It is a safe container. I am fiercely present and fiercely authentic. I am talking from my heart. I am feeling into the men around me and they are feeling into me. I am not comparing. I am with my challenges and my victories and I am surrounded by men who are equally with theirs. I am aware with the men of life’s ebbs and flows. A man who a fortnight previously was on top of the world and conquering his mountain is now in the doldrums. Life has thrown him a curveball as it invariably does.

In circle, I am always reminded of a pivotal time in my life. It was a particularly challenging period in my late thirties. I moved into an apartment on the beach, and walked that beach every day. I saw with my own eyes that one day the ocean could be like glass and the next day or hours later it could be raging. And I realised that there was nothing wrong with it. The ocean was just doing what the ocean does.

I also realised that deep down, despite the shifts on the surface there was a deep abiding calm.

That calm is what I seek through my pillar practices.

One day I may have access to that way of being on a totally consistent basis. That is definitely an aspiration.

For now, I am journeying and on that journey, I have picked up many arrows in the way of learnings, insights and practices.

On that journey, I have also become a teacher. As a teacher, I only ever speak from direct experience. I also recognise that we teach what we most need to learn.

I also constantly remind myself of a meditation experience that I had some months ago. In that practice, in quick succession I was presented with everybody I have known with the statement “you are a teacher” and then I was presented with everybody I had known once again with the statement “you are a student”.

And so as I complete the writing of this, the sun has risen and its rays warm my face, my fingers and my mind feel free and calm. I stare at a man named Tom who sits a few seats away from me engrossed in conversation and I know from direct experience that this man is friend, teacher and student.

I listen to the cacophony of conversations and dogs barking. I hear laughter, and I hear opinions, but mainly I hear laughter – and it is not lost on me that I am sitting in one of the most blessed spots on the planet.

And my learning from today – the power of my practices and why my commitment is to connect men with themselves and each other because without that I am not sure I would be here.

And so my challenge becomes my gift.

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Youth Suicide. Life is difficult. This too shall pass.

Mike Britton — Wed, 02 Mar 2022 23:14:23 +0000

Youth Suicide

We followed the disappearance of Brody Hurst. Initially, he was a 15-year-old boy who went missing. He had chained his bike on the Northern end of Newport Beach and had not returned home after dusk. His Mom, posting on the Northern Beaches Facebook Page said “it was uncharacteristic of him”.

Yesterday morning I did the boardwalk run from Avalon to Newport. I ran past Brody’s bike. It was still there. I saw a policeman on the beach. I heard the sound of the helicopters, they were still searching.

Before it was announced in the mainstream media we heard that Brody’s body had been found. We read in the media that the police after initial inquiries “are not treating the matter as suspicious” because Brody suicided.

Brody suicided……

Photos of Brody on Facebook show a great looking, well built, smiling 15-year-old kid. His father (I assume it’s his dad) has his arm around Brody’s shoulder, who is flanked by his loving mother and younger brother.

Brody, like all men, has his story – his own unique experience of existential pain that I personally believe is experienced by all of us. I say “us” specifically because I am not sure it is unique to men, or that it needs to be gender-specific.

However, I will talk from my own experience and I will talk as a man.

I have four children, two boys aged sixteen and eleven, and two girls aged five and eight weeks.

My eldest son starts year twelve this year, and so yes, my pain and my concern were directed in part toward him. I reminded myself that I must always remember to talk and share. The truth is that I do. We are close, very close. He is probably my best friend and he and I both count ourselves lucky that we can have a relationship as friend and parent. We have coined it “Son Brother Father Friend”.

We express our love for one another, we seek advice from each other, we know how deeply we love and respect each other, I know that he has struggles, as he knows I do too.

Having been involved with men’s work for over ten years, and the wellbeing industry for over twenty-five years, I am personally convinced that (despite what the statistics say) at least four out of five men battle with depression, anxiety, fear, overwhelm, hopelessness, extreme stress, pressure and suicidal thoughts.

Do I share my thoughts openly? Do I share my struggles openly? Not really. I am fortunate and blessed. I have a best mate (not my son) with whom I can share everything and we have a friendship spanning thirty years. He is a very evolved man. I have incredible teachers, a men’s group, a solid support network, and a wife who has taught me what the word commitment means.

I have a beautiful home in Avalon and all the trappings of a wonderful life.

So what!!!

– and it’s a ‘so what’ for one reason, and that reason is “life is difficult”.

Life is Difficult

When I was in my very early twenties I was blessed to read a book that would change my life because it offered a simple paradigm shift. The book was titled The Road Less Travelled by M. Scott Peck.

In it, he writes “Once we truly know that life is difficult, once we truly understand and accept it – then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters”.

I remind myself and my son of that lesson, always.

But.

It has not liberated me, it has not granted me inner peace and serenity. It has not calmed the inner voices. It has not dulled the depression, anxiety, fear, overwhelm, hopelessness, extreme stress, pressure or suicidal thoughts.

I am just better able to hold them in check. I am able to remind myself that this too shall pass. I am able to gain perspective even if sometimes it takes days or weeks. I am able to cultivate the resilience to handle what life throws at me.

And I fall all the time, and I know that all there is to do is get back on the horse.

I have an agreement with my wife, and as she calls it, the agreement is “not to do anything stupid”. She shared with me her fear that one morning she is going to walk outside and find me hanging on a tree. I promised her that I will not take my own life without her knowing that it is my intention. There is peace for both of us in that.

Why I, or my mind, experiences that level of pain is not the story for this share. Sharing it is more indulgent than it is private, and this is not the forum.

What I do know is the exquisite pain that suicide will take away. What I also know is that in time it will pass and that my suicide would leave others lost, devastated, angry and in pain themselves.

I have enough perspective to know that it is not fair and it is not the answer.

Knowing life is difficult, my passion has been to impart that to others, and with it the skills required to manage life.

“Once we truly know that life is difficult, once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters”.

M. Scott Peck Tweet

The Rugby Analogy

I was thinking this morning, reflecting on Brody’s passing, if we accept life is a game, imagine it was a rugby game and a person said, “I would like the kicks, and the passes, and the running but I just don’t want the scrums or the tackles because they hurt” That would not be rugby. That would not be the game.

This game called being a human being in the 21st century (and for all time to date) has elements that hurt. It is just the way it goes and it is like that from the very beginning. Every meaningful experience has elements of love and elements of pain, that is just the way that it goes, and it is like that whether we like it or not.

In his book ‘7 Habits of Highly Effective People’, another one of my great mentors (Steven Covey) explains it clearly. He describes the process of farming, and the necessary conditions required to germinate a seed: the seed requires water, fertilised soil, and sunlight, at the right time, in the right way, whether we like it or not.

Brody’s passing is devastating. It is devastating for him but perhaps more devastating to his family. The hole left by his death may be too much to bear.

I don’t claim to know or judge his pain, all I can say is that we as men, as human beings, must learn to nurture our resilience and accept that life is difficult. Then, we must deal with that difficulty moment by moment, knowing that it will do two things.

One, it will teach us something – and two, it will pass.

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Pillars and Tapestries

Mike Britton — Sun, 20 Feb 2022 00:15:16 +0000

When thinking about where to start, I kept coming back to the “pillars” because it has been the distinction and practice of the pillars that have brought me to this place. Talking from direct experience also makes this about sharing what I have learned and what I know. It is not based on dogma nor does it require anybody to follow what I say.

It is merely a perspective that I share from my own direct experience, and experience for me is the true teacher.

I define a pillar practice as an activity that:

I prioritise, do frequently and consistently, and enhances my personal integrity, my internal and external capacity, and my experience of life.

The action is specific, occurs at a specific time, and for a specific period of time.

I prioritise – because I know that by fulfilling it, I am living consistently with what it means to me, to live a life of personal integrity.
I do it frequently – generally daily, weekly or fortnightly at a specific and measurable time, and for a specific and measurable period, either alone or with others depending on context.
I do consistently – because I know that it fills my cup, serves me and enables me to serve others. It makes a difference in my life and the lives of others.
Cultivates internal capacity – and my ability to reference from within and as such, reduce the impact of external stimulation and validation
Cultivates external capacity – is aligned with what I am doing and who I am being in the world, and contributes to creating and having a life that works.
I experience – a sense of peace, calm, that I matter, and a feeling of connection to myself and to others.

Pillars are integrated with tapestries and have all the same qualities and parameters as mentioned above, other than one. In contrast to pillar practices, tapestry do not occur at a specific time, for a specific period, and the action itself is often less specific.

See Tables 1 and 2 below (Pillar Practice vs Tapestry)

Table 1. Pillar Practice

Activity	Measurable	Specific
Time	Measurable	Specific
Period	Measurable	Specific
Example	Meditate, twice daily, every day	At 8am & 8pm, in my room, for 20 minutes

Table 2. Tapestry

Activity	Measurable	Non-specific
Time	Measurable	Non-specific
Period	Measurable	Non-specific
Example	Charity, set proportion of my income, each week	Whenever, to whomever, and however I please

Let me illustrate both with an example. I will use meditation as an example of a pillar practice and tithing as an example of a tapestry.

My meditation practice as pillar practice is as follows: 20 minutes, twice per day, in a seated closed eye posture, usually done alone but sometimes done with others. Mornings predominantly at sunrise and outdoors, and evenings predominantly in the meditation space I have created at home, performed in the early evening. A total of 14 sits per week for a total of 280 minutes which equates to 4 hours and 40 minutes.

My tithing practice as a tapestry (practice) is as follows: on a weekly basis I manually transfer money via a banking app from my spending account into a tithing account. The amount is 10% of the money that goes into the spending account. I then look for opportunities throughout the week to use that money in various acts of service, from buying raffle tickets in local fund raisers, to purchasing food for homeless people. I have decided not to automate transfers from the tithing account, so that I can be fully conscious when the money is used.

My pillars and tapestries are my oxygen mask. They are what feeds my inner cultivations, my integrity, my capacity, my sense of self and my commitment to what I am doing in the world.

As such I am completely committed to them as distinct from attached.

Committed means that they are prioritised and they are prioritised in proportion to the immense value they give me. They are absolutely at the forefront and I do not put other activities before them.

I also recognise that life by design is unpredictable, it ebbs and flows, and sometimes unforeseen things come up. Sometimes, flexibility and responsiveness to the needs of the moment require me to temporarily set aside my pillars and tapestries. Committed but not rigid, disciplined but not mechanical. When they are set aside it is done with intention and awareness, and a clear commitment to living with integrity and responding in a way that is consistent with my values.

My pillars and tapestries are not set in stone, but changing them is always done in a considered manner.

As of today, 6 January 2022 my pillars are:

PILLAR ACTIVITY	FACET	SUB-FACET	BEING (for this practice)	WHEN	WITH WHO	DURATION
fortnightly date night with Caroline	FAMILY	partner	connected	fortnightly	Caroline	4 hours
dinner at my parents one night per week	FAMILY	parents	acceptance & service	monday evenings	my parents and my sons	2 hours
8km run – once per week	PHYSICAL	outer health	in action	lunchtime or weekend afternoons	alone but what is missing could be a buddy	40 minutes
one on one time with my son Leroy	FAMILY	children	grateful & present	Monday evenings post my folks	Leroy	90 minutes
dinner with my sons at my folks	FAMILY	children	calm	fortnightly Monday evenings after Kung-fu	Rohan (and the folks and Leroy there as well)	2 hours
kung fu training twice per week	PHYSICAL	outer health	committed	Mondays and Thursdays	My sons and with Brett	1 hour each
One HIIT session & pool or ocean swim	PHYSICAL	outer health	focused	Mondays and Thursdays	Sven	90 minutes
strength training session – once per week	PHYSICAL	outer health	committed	Tuesdays	Jason	1 hour
gratitude practice twice weekly	PERSONAL EVOLUTION & CONNECTION	serving others	grateful	Monday and Wednesdays	On my own	10 minutes each times
Mens group Eastern Suburbs (fortnightly)	SOCIAL	friends	grateful	Mondays fortnightly	the men	2 hour
journal once per week	MENTAL	clarity – doing and being	committed	Monday mornings 6:30 – 7:45	on my own	75 minutes
face to face connect with a a man or men once per week- can include coffee, walk, lunch etc	SOCIAL	friends	abundant	It has been Friday mornings but not really working	A man in my world	1 hour
The Sit Avalon every Saturday – meditate, train, swim, coffee with the crew	SOCIAL	local community	light and playful	Saturday mornings	The Av community	3 hour
Meditate twice per day	PERSONAL EVOLUTION & CONNECTION		free	daily twice per day for 20 minutes	on my own and in community	20 minutes per sit
the course in miracles daily	PERSONAL EVOLUTION & CONNECTION	spiritual development	connected	daily in the morning	on my own	10 minutes
smoothie DAILY	PHYSICAL	inner health	consistent	daily each morning	my family	10 minutes

And my tapestries are:

TAPESTRIES	FACET	BEING	FREQUENCY	SCHEDULED RHYTHM
no dairy, no cherries, no pine nuts, no salmon, and eating really good quality protein and good amounts of vegetables	PERSONAL EVOLUTION & CONNECTION	intentional	Daily	NA
Keeping my desk and working space, my car and my cupboard completely organised	MENTAL	intentional	Daily	NA
tithing	PERSONAL EVOLUTION & CONNECTION	abundant	Daily	NA

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Breaking, Rebuilding and Learning to Swim

Mike Britton — Fri, 04 Feb 2022 02:41:54 +0000

An Introduction To Sherpa & The Shift Ethos

The Great Breaking

Every worthwhile movement starts with a good story, and good stories usually involve a curve ball.

My curve ball happened on the 22nd of June 2019 while moving my motorcycle. It was a Triumph Bonneville with the number plate “Gaz 22” – dedicated to the memory of Gary, my late younger brother and only sibling who passed away in 2013. The number 22 was his lucky number, and the racing number on both of his motorcycles.

As I moved the Triumph it fell and resulted in me tearing my chest muscle off my upper arm. In the hospital, when I went in for surgery I discovered I had been placed in bed number 22. I showed the nurse the number 22 tattooed on my forearm, and told her about the specifics of the accident. We agreed there were a whole lot of coincidences around the number 22.

Post-surgery I was required to keep my arm across my chest 24/7. I could not move or bathe properly, and I was in significant physical and emotional pain. My situation was also exacerbated by having to care for our 6-month newborn daughter Stevie, the youngest of our 4 children, while my wife returned to work because I was in no position to be the primary breadwinner.

All of this coincided with the collapse of a business I had founded 20 years previously, along with being ousted as the CEO of another company that I had more recently co-founded. As I attempted my first share divestment, I became embroiled in a legal altercation with the other co-founders.

Physically, mentally and financially broken. Perfect.

As I lay in bed wallowing in my own stink, the inner voices literally screaming at me, my wife, who is one of the most insightful humans that I know said something very simple to me, “Let yourself break, mourn your brother, and everything else that you have lost”

…And I broke, really broke – somewhere deep inside myself, and in a way that I had never broken before. Everything had been pulled away. There was nothing left. And after the great breaking, came the great rebuilding.

I was fortunate in part (every coin has two sides and every gift has its curse) to discover that my accident qualified me for workers compensation. I began to rebuild myself physically and emotionally and shortly thereafter, financially.

Everything had been pulled away. There was nothing left. And after the great breaking, came the great rebuilding.

Mike Britton Tweet

From Swimologist to Swimmer

As part of the great rebuilding, I finally graduated from being a swimologist to becoming a swimmer.

What does that mean?

S. N. Goenka, the great Burmese man behind the Vipassana ten-day silent meditation retreat centres that have sprung up across the world, talks about the ‘great swimologist’ in one of his discourses. The great swimologist is the person who has read everything there is to know about the world of swimming. They have watched every great swimmer, attended all the races, studied the techniques and knows everything there is to know about swimming. And then somebody takes him to the edge of the pool and pushes him in.

And guess what happens?

He sinks. Because the great swimologist has never actually swum, never experienced swimming, or done the practical work.

Then, I’d been on the personal development and self-awareness journey for over 30 years. I believe it started in my late teens when I moved to Australia from South Africa, reading books like the Prophet by Gibran, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, The Tao of Pooh, and The Way of the Peaceful Warrior.

I lived in an Ashram during my early twenties, with the rest of that decade spent deep in the world of Jewish Orthodoxy studying to be a rabbi. When the millennium switched from ’99 to 2000 I was in Blackheath, in the Blue Mountains, doing my first ever 10-day silent retreat. Years of courses, therapies, learnings, counsellors, experiences, reading, programs and so on.

The great swimologist.

Consistency & Creating a Life Rythm

What my wife did in July 2019 was take me to the edge of the pool and invite me to swim. She helped me recognise that I was drowning for one simple reason. I had not recognised one important principle: Do the practice consistently. As part of my recovery, and for the first time in my life, I started to meditate twice per day, every day.

Although I had my introduction to meditation over 30 years prior – through courses, books, the Ashram, had explored Jewish mysticism (kabbalah), Vedic and received my mantra, completed 6 Vipassana 10 day silent retreats, and attended Jasons Meditation for Men Course.

What was missing was a consistent, twice per day practice – the great swimologist.

And now I was sitting twice a day, consciously and consistently, and as a priority. From there, I explored the ‘what else’ – what were the other ‘big rocks’ or practices that had at times, sustained me? My martial arts training, another 30-year journey. My men’s circle, a fortnightly gathering I had attended for 16+ years. The course in miracles, journaling, sharing gratitude, sunrise with the men on a Saturday, physical training and meditating.

As I looked, I discovered that these practices filled my cup, allowed me to serve myself and others, kept me present, enabled me to handle my life situation, and cultivate resilience and capacity.

I coined them ‘pillar practices’ and used myself as a petri dish. From those pillar practices, a life rhythm emerged. It became increasingly clear to me that my power came from consistency, and from expressing all the key facets of my life with integrity. In other words, by being consistent with the man I was committed to being in the world.

Swimming in Community

I had always been deeply interested in personal leadership, human performance, creating a life that worked, optimal health, mission statements, purpose and life meaning, so this was not new. What was new was that I was swimming for the first time, and as I swam, the experience of swimming, and sharing it with others, created a positive feedback loop called community.

First emerging as the 22 Movement, and ultimately evolving into the Sit and the Shift, I am now honoured to be working and growing alongside our community of incredibly inspiring men. What has crystallised in that journey of experiencing swimming is the Shift, and the Practise as the vehicle for swimming.

Swimming together, creating lives that work, being people of integrity, making a difference in the world, being the ripple, cultivating internally and being able to withstand. We become beacons, examples of those living the greatest lives that they can, while being with the reality that we remain simple humans – navigating the misery and suffering, and moments of awe and wonder in this life.

Because that is what life is, an ebb and a flow, calm days and rough days.

And in that ocean of life, I now swim.

Mike ‘Sherpa’ Britton

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When the Dog Bites – (A Mental Health Share)

Mike Britton — Fri, 16 Apr 2021 03:54:01 +0000

For me, there is a purging and release in writing. In sharing this I feel like it allows me and others to accept that there is an ebb and flow in life, to acknowledge that there is sometimes so much going on beneath the surface and that the domain of mental health is an area that as a “society” we are still on a steep learning curve as to how to see it and how to deal with it.

I have heard the darkness referred to as the Black Dog. It is the allusion to this that has lead me to call this piece “When the dog bites”

It feels like it is an insulated world. One where I am attacking only myself.

I am quiet and withdrawn, self-contained I thought but clearly not as contained as I think I am.

I am clear that I am not going to erupt. I am clear that I am not looking to create conflict, provoke an argument, or a fight. I used to do that in the past. I don’t do that anymore.

I contain myself. I am solitary. I don’t answer calls or texts. I stay off my email and my phone. I don’t engage with social media. I don’t engage with anybody unless I have to.

I meditate, I eat very little. I crave sleep but the exhaustion is existential so the sleep won’t make it go away or refresh me. It is a totally different type of exhaustion. Only people who suffer mental pain understand it.

It is so totally overwhelming. My head feels like it is going to explode and my eyelids are so heavy. My breath is stuck in my throat. My voice box is closed and my eyes, they just want to stare downward.

I am afraid of everyone and everything other than my two-year-old daughter. At times I can’t even touch her or look her in the eye but those moments are few.

I feel like I am being attacked by everything, of course by myself the most and that is the irony and the paradox.

Everything feels so far away yet the sounds are invasive. Like a smack. I have to close my eyes to them. The sound of a chair leg scraping, a hum of a car, the call of a bird, the sound of my wife’s voice. All of them feel like an attack.

Logically, rationally, I know they won’t hurt me. Logically and rationally I know I am losing part of this beautiful day. Logically and rationally I know that at some point I will come back. That I will open again, that this, this monster will recede again, disappear for a while.

I am fortunate if that be the word. I don’t need or use drugs or alcohol to numb it.

I am also fortunate that I know it is going to go away and that I just need to ride it out for however long it is here. If it were to persist for weeks or months I would write something different. That would not be sustainable. I couldn’t do that. I would put an end to it.

For now, I will be alone, I will disconnect from everyone and everything. I will breathe shallowly.

I will do things slowly.

I will remain as quiet as I possibly can until this has passed.

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Our Stories About Ourselves

Mike Britton — Thu, 15 Apr 2021 05:18:49 +0000

Our story, we each have our story, we are all impacted by something.

For some of us it could be growing up with too much money or having parents who excessively doted on us. For another it might be abuse, physical or mental.

The story is also a constant. It is not something that just happens in childhood. As we venture through life things happen, we have experiences and to make sense of them they become our narrative, the story that we tell ourselves about ourselves. They create context.

Owning our story and how it shaped us is empowering. Being the victim of our story is disempowering.

Thinking that our story is somehow worse or better than another person’s story is disempowering.

They are personal stories. They are personal to us. They are our own. None better or worse then another.

I recall a story I watched on television about a young black man Jean-Baptiste Alaize who lived in in France. He was disabled. He had lost his leg. As a child during the Rwanda genocide his leg was hacked off with a machette. That was after he witnessed his parents and siblings being murdered. He was left for dead.

That is a horrific story.

Today he has created a life for himself. He represented his country in the Olympics.

His story impacted and influenced him but it has not overtaken him.

I am sure there is still pain, how can there not be.

Understanding, processing, integrating and letting go of my own story is a journey in acceptance of myself, and of others. There are things that happened that I regret. There are things that really hurt. There are people who really let me down. There are betrayals. There is loss and there is anger. And then there are the things that I did to others.

All of them are my story.

In accepting myself I accept who I am and who I am not. I accept what I did. I accept what was done to me.

Fundamentally I am not a victim of that story and those experiences. They do not define me even though they absolutely influence who I am today.

Perhaps a better word then define is constrain.

Turia Pitt is probably the person who stands out the most for me.

Physically blessed with beauty, an athlete and adventurer she was horrifically burned while competing in an ultra marathon in 2014.

She was terribly disfigured and had to rebuild herself completely.

Today she is an author, presenter, ambassador in a deeply loving and connected relationship with her partner who was also her partner prior to the accident.

Is she defined by it ? she will be forever physically scarred and disfigured from the accident

Is she constrained by it ? – in her own words “ Because of what I’ve been through I know that I’m capable of anything I put my mind to. That’s what tough times teach us.

Does she have challenging days? Without knowing her I would say that she absolutely unequivocally does because she is human and as humans we ebb and flow

She is also one incredibly inspiring human being

My story is multi levelled and multi layered, immigration and losing my country, being part of a cult, venturing into the world of Orthodoxy and being spat out the other side, commercial victories and failed businesses, betrayed by men who I thought were my brothers, losing my brother and only sibling at a very young age, sordid affairs, being divorced more than once, having a motorbike mishap and having my chest torn from my shoulder …..and on it goes.

As I journey into acceptance I accept those parts of myself that are hard to look at. I look deeply into my own eyes and declare “I know you” and “I accept you” and hot tears of love stream down my own face.

Is that a consistent experience? Do I feel present to being blessed at all times? Do I feel in my power? Do I feel grateful? Do I feel blessed?

The answer to all of those questions is “sometimes”

Because life ebbs and flows

What I do make sure of is that I have practices, behaviours and relationships that remind me of my commitment and mostly when I veer off the path or fall off the horse I am gentle with myself.

The screaming voices inside my head have receded and now it is rare that they come out. When they do I can better observe them and they stay internal so that the only person they are attacking is me.

And so today as I write this I do not sit deeply in that space of acceptance. I feel sad, partly inadequate, partly anxious and in fear but I have also had my face in the sun as it rose and I sat in meditation. I have drunk coffee with friends. I have held my daughter. I have expressed gratitude to a mate and I have written from my heart.

Long may the journey continue..

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