From Sailboats to Summits - The Toba Adventure

I could easily write a novella about my recent foray into the wilderness, The Toba Adventure. But I will do my best to compress it into one blog. Unfortunately it's the small details that give a story depth which I will have to leave out for the sake of the bigger story - but it will still blow your mind!

I could also easily write a novella about the individuals I was privileged enough to have bring me along their adventure. There is Red Beard, my sailboat captain, who's summited many mountains and escaped death just as many times; Medicine Man, a true American Dirtbag, hiked the whole Pacific Crest Trail among too many other adventures to count. Then there's the Powell River power couple, including a former MEC Adventurer of the Year. Together they've explored heaps of the coast mountains behind Powell River. Oh, and neither of them own cell phones!

Medicine Man - Instagram @mightyhealthyadventures

I left off from the previous blog with Red Beard and I sailing into Powell River and meeting up with the Dillas, the name of their crew. After brief and energetic discussions, big preparations were set into motion. I was given a vague overview and, besides that, they put their faith in me to be able to keep up with them, and I in them not to get me seriously hurt or leave me behind!

A few days later, we pile hundreds of pounds of gear into Red Beard's sailboat, Rose, hop in and start sailing north of Powell River (which is already a day's sailing north of Vancouver). We sail past serene coastal mountain landscapes, and by evening look for a bay or cove with quiet waters in which to drop anchor.

We instead find probably the coolest docking spot along the whole coast! A 25 x 25 foot floating wooden dock, free for passersby to use. Here we make dinner, make a little fire in the wood stove, unpack and repack all of our gear, and have a cozy sleep.

A floating dock along the BC coast, free to use!

This is what these guys do for fun

And this

Red Beard and the Powell River power couple, sailing up the Toba Inlet

Docking at the end of the Toba Inlet

The next morning we sail up the Toba Inlet. An inlet is a twisting and bending arm of water, extending into the mainland. By this time, there are no more cottages or buildings - only the smooth curves of the hills blanketed with thick green forests or sheer grey slabs of rock.

We eventually reach the end of the inlet, find a loggers dock, and start unloading all of our gear. We create a rickshaw out of two bicycles, trunks of trees, and rope. Then we load all of our gear on it and start pushing!

Before long, a few loggers spot us and inquire as to what we are doing. We explain that we are on a Memorial Climbing Trip for Rob Richards (a side story which I must leave out for brevity's sake) and it turns out the loggers happen to also be friends with this famous local!

In turn, they decide to help us out with our plans, and drive us and all our gear up the forest road to our destination! Their declaration of help leaves us ecstatic and screaming for joy! And to top it off they cook us dinner and put us up for the night in some of their vacant dorms before driving us off the next morning.

The loggers offer to drive us and all our gear, so we don't have to push it!

After the loggers dropped us off at our destination, Red Beard and Medicine Man find two trees to climb up and make a food cache. They've never made a food cache this heavy before, and it takes them almost 5 hours, a complex pulley system and a bit of muscle to loft the dry bags to a height untouchable by bears.

Red Beard and Medicine Man aid climb maybe 40 feet up trees to make a food cache

Some gymnastics required to pull the rope with the cache on the other end of the rope!

Finally, the food cache is in place!

We then cross the roaring Toba River using a boat tied to a highline or tyrolean. Basically the boat is tied to a rope which spans the river. One person has to be on land to pull the rope in order to move the boat across the river.

Finally we start hiking! My backpack weighs about 20 kg, and some of the other guys have up to 35 kg on their backs. The hike begins through a cut-block, or logged area, which is easy. But soon we find the gully and start ascending it. This gully is the most treacherous challenge I have ever hiked. It is steep, uneven and full of loose rocks and gravel. There are a few spots where the gully is impassable with our packs on, and we need to break out climbing ropes and gear to get past it.

A cut-block. The pyramids of scrap wood will be burned with a flame thrower in the winter

The most difficult ascent of my life, up a gnarly gully

On a few occasions we needed to break out the rope where it was too steep

The Dillas taking a break in the gully

We were forced to sleep in the gully that night. Luckily, we found some flat enough sections along the steep gully, using ice axes to expose the soft ground, and sleep side by side in the open air, with the stream rushing by and the stars watching over us.

The next morning we spend another 10 hours ascending the gully. Somehow it became steeper as we neared the top, and there were one or two moments, caught on some steep ledges and looking down, where I feared for my life, my adrenaline nearly pumping my heart out of my chest, and feeling nearly like throwing up. It was both an incredible relief and a miracle when we finally made it to the top of the gully!

During most of the day I was in disbelief that this crew put their faith in me to keep up with them without hurting myself. Now I was in disbelief at the beautiful view, and the fact we were only the second party to ever come here! It was a truly special moment, and the crew celebrated with big smiles and hugs.

View from an adjacent hill. The gully we ascended follows the bottom of the cliff's shadow, just above the far left treeline

The splendid view across the Toba River valley from which we first came

A tent with a view

On the night of our arrival we had time just to make camp, dinner and sleep. Early next morning, the power couple crossed the glacier and with their rock climbing gear, climbed to the summit of one of the surrounding mountains - a rare and awesome feat they will be proud of the rest of their lives.

By contrast Red Beard, Medicine Man and I took it relatively easy. We spent 2 full days in our alpine camp, doing some light hiking, bouldering, stretching, and just enjoying the view and eachother's company, sharing interesting stories and tidbits of wisdom.

Stretching out those sore limbs

The fourth day was a day I was silently dreading ever since we started ascending the gully. It was the descent. I was worried sick about going down such steep slopes and gnarly rocks with 20 kg on my back.

We started early morning, bushwhacking through the forests in order to avoid the steep gully. While safer, this was no simple task. Pushing our way through bushes and branches, stepping through thick, moist vegetation, while descending a 45 degree slope was extremely slow, frustrating and tiring.

At some point we could no longer avoid the gully. We had to set up a rappel system so that we could descend the cliff like slope into the gully. Rappelling down the slope, in simple terms, involved dangling a really long rope, secured at the top, and sliding down the rope with a gri-gri, a tool that allows you to slowly slide down a rope with a controlled grip and safety mechanism.

Back in the gully, moving down it required being very patient and methodical. Every step was prone to slippage, and potentially a rough slide down the steep sides of the gully. A long day's hike like this requires a zen approach. A steep gravel patch gave way one time, and I slid around 10 feet down the slope. Thankfully I was not seriously hurt, but I came away with scratches bleeding down my arms and legs. Oh, I also cracked my cell phone during this accident!

By the time we made it to the bottom of the gully, we were beat up, sweaty and dead tired. However, as it was when we first ascended the gully, we felt a mix of relief and excitement at completing such a great accomplishment. To top off the moment, just after exiting the gully, we saw a cougar! (sorry no pics)

After taking down our food cache, we made dinner, camp, and had a big sleep, recovering from the day's toil. The next morning was a decision point: the enormous food cache was there to give the Dillas the flexibility to refuel and return to the alpine camp multiple times, allowing them to stay for several weeks if they so desired. However, even for this gnarly group of adventurers the gully was more work than they expected and they decided it wasn't worth the trouble.

So we packed everything up and got ready to go. As luck has been on our side this trip, we encountered the loggers, who drove us back to our sailboat, and we eventually sailed back to Powell River, ending The Toba Adventure.

When I look back over the past several years, every new adventure has been bigger and better than the last, and I've been constantly outdoing myself. I'm not sure it'll get any bigger and better than this! If I hang up my hiking boots after this adventure, I'll have no regrets.

But as important as the adventure itself were the amazing people I shared it with. I learned so much and gained so much inspiration from them. I also know who to turn to when there's an apocalypse - these guys are the masters of survival and adaptation. The Toba Adventure will live on in my memory but the Toba crew will forever be in my heart.

Enjoying a beautiful sunset from the sailboat

Learning to Sail Along the BC Coast

For the past few years I have been yearning to learn to sail, with the eventual goal of sailing across an ocean.

This ambition came out of my goal of never flying again. And this goal stems from principles that have strengthened within me to become an environmentally friendly traveler. Luckily enough for me, I've done a bunch of traveling in my life, and with every step on my traveling journey have grown my awareness of the impacts of my actions on our globe. Stubborn and crazy as this all sounds, I am trying to lead by example and show that crazy is indeed possible.

So this summer I road tripped from Ontario back out to beautiful western Canada and reached out to a friend who owns a sailboat, whom I met at a festival a few years ago. I initially reached out to him when we first met, but he had hardly gotten his own feet wet. Now with a few years experience, he was ready to have a first mate join him on board!

Say hello to Rose, a 1976 fibreglass sloop!

Enjoying the view from the bow!

I agreed to help him overhaul his sailboat, docked at a marina just east of Vancouver. I spent the next 2 weeks helping him sand, paint, and assist in miscellaneous tasks. It was rewarding to put in the work and be part of the process, and it made the ensuing adventure feel more like my own, as opposed to just being a passenger along for the ride.

Besides, my captain is an interesting and generous person to spend time with. I barely knew him beforehand, but we immediately got along and I was regaled by countless stories of his adventures. I got used to hearing sailor speak such as "aye" and "yarr." While he has a name, his friends all call him, and I have come to know him as Red Beard. You can follow him on Instagram @rubbertrampinboots

Red Beard and Medicine Man working on the engine which has a crank start

At last the sailboat was ready to go! On her first voyage of the year we took Rose out to Vancouver Harbour to watch the fireworks at night on Canada Day.

Sailing through the Burrard Inlet, Red Beard steering and belting tunes on his harmonica

Vancouver Harbour looking towards Canada Place and downtown Vancouver

Narrows Bridge connecting Stanley Park and North Vancouver

Red Beard's partner Sarah joined us for a few days of adventure, as we sailed aimlessly around Bowen Island. Red taught Sarah and I some basic sailing terms, as well as practice doing some actual sailing.

For instance, the bow is the front of the boat, and the back is the stern. The port is on the left side, the starboard on the right. You have the main sail in the centre of the boat, which catches the most wind to drive the boat forward, and the jib, whose angle can be changed to catch more wind. There is an even smaller jib sail, the storm jib, which can be used in stormy windy conditions.

As a team of three, we got to practice hoisting and packing away all three of these sails. The main sail and jib are connected to ropes which run to the stern of the boat, where the tiller, or steering wheel, also sits. The stern acts as the control centre for the boat. From here you can pull on the halliards, ropes which hoist the sails, then play with another set of ropes to change the angles of the sails.

Hitchhiking is encouraged on Bowen Island a small friendly place without public buses

Salmon berries are in season!

Sarah and Red hanging out in front of the fire with the sailboat in the distance - Bowen Island

Besides learning how to sail, we spent plenty of leisure time on Bowen Island exploring, eating good food and drinking beer and wine. I got to know these two lovely humans very well. Sarah lives in a motorhome on a farm north of Squamish, working at a nearby healing centre, teaching yoga, meditation, and conducting nature education for children. You can follow her on Instagram at @live.love.lila

After Sarah departed, Red Beard and I continued north along the BC coast. Along the way we saw beautiful landscapes, rich houses and yachts, and some marine life, including jellyfish, a humpback whale and a pod of orca whales. At night we witnessed bioluminescence, glowing green light emitted by tiny organisms in the water. It was like staring down at another night sky, lit with green stars. When I moved my hand in the water, it was like setting off green fireworks.

BC Ferry from Vancouver to Vancouver Island against a beautiful coastal landscape

Storm clouds gave witness to many spot showers, some of which deluged us

The calm and beauty after the storm

We braved a stormy day with big waves, which made me a bit seasick. But overall I adapted to boat life quite well. I've always slept well in moving objects like overnight buses, and the rocking of the boat felt like rock-a-bye baby to me.

Rose has all the amenities one needs including toilet, cooler fridge, kitchen with propane stove. Red Beard added a few touches including a diesel fireplace and a GoalZero battery with folding solar panels. Sharing small spaces came naturally to both Red Beard and I, and the tiny interior of the 29 foot boat provided more than enough room for the both of us.

And while being out on the water is full of thrills, it is also full of worthy lessons. Just like a farmer depends on rain, on a sailboat you become humble to nature because you depend on the wind to move. However, when the wind does blow, you are moving on free renewable energy, which is a beautiful thing.

Red Beard cooking in the cabin

Red Beard diving under the boat to cut a rope that got caught under the propeller

Unlike living out of a van, living out of a sailboat means a literal ocean of possibilities and the world is your oyster. But you're also beholden to an ocean of uncertainties. One day, some rope got stuck in the propeller, so Red Beard dove underwater to cut it out! Another night, we got stuck in a storm, unable to overcome fierce winds to get to shore and anchor. We had to call a rescue boat to tow us in to shore. It was a pretty scary situation to be in and reminded us that we are at the whim of nature, especially when we're out on the water far from land.

Sailboat life seems akin to owning a car but with less rules, and also like a house but with a lot more maintenance. When driving, unlike cars, you're not restricted to the painted lines on the road, and after driving you can park your boat literally anywhere you can drop an anchor and hit bottom. Having a house that floats on water, while cheaper than owning a house on land, requires constant maintenance. Rust is a constant issue, and leaks can drive a boat owner crazy. If a leak gets out of hand, your house can sink! 

Beautiful sunset near Powell River

We eventually sailed in to Powell River, a relatively isolated town, two ferries north of Vancouver along the BC coast. Here Red Beard would meet up with some of his long time adventure pals, and we would start a new land based adventure, which turned out to be the most epic of my life.

Wait for it in the next blog!

Toronto - Rediscovering "Home"

Toronto is my hometown, the city I was born and raised in. My large extended family all live here.

Graffiti Alley, downtown Toronto

Yet, Toronto has never been a place I called home. Partly because I never properly explored it, always fringing along its outskirts. And partly due to the fact I never really fit in amongst my peers growing up.

Nearly 8 years after first moving away, after coming down to earth from traveling, along with a reassessment of my life goals, I felt ready to come home and reconnect with my family. After all, they are always willing to take me back. They are my blood, my kin, and there's an intangible connection there, for better or for worse.

I spent some time living with my sister, then with my parents. Then I spent a summer living in a cabin in the woods north of Toronto. But all this time I had been far from the heart of Toronto. Finally, with the understanding that family's family but I needed to find my own people, I moved to downtown Toronto in February 2018.

One of my favorite things, making beer, has become a family affair

Making lasagna for mom and grandma out of dumpster dived ingredients

There was a mix of fear and excitement. I had a few friends from before I left, but for the most part, it was a fresh start. I was mature enough now to find my niche anywhere I go, but was fearful of the competitive nature of such an expensive and big city, filled with busy people always on the go.

I managed to find enough work to keep me afloat and give me the time I valued to check out all that Toronto had to offer. I went to music shows alone and underground clubs where I danced on my own, yet not totally alone among a sea of die hard clubbers. I attended free bike maintenance workshops, and a variety of other events that catered to my interests, such as language learning meetups and environmental talks.

Slowly, as I half expected and hoped, I began making real human connections and building friendships, both new and old. These connections came in unique ways - one was through a common friend no longer in TO, another through dumpster diving, another through the bicycle workshops, through a music festival, a few through Couchsurfing, and a super interesting roommate.

Getting a tattoo from my best friend in TO

Whenever I dumpster dive eggs, I picture those chickens pooping those eggs, just for us.

They say that you are defined by the closest five people you surround yourself with. It's telling how when I first left Toronto my peers were all engineers and professionals who eventually bought houses and started families. Now they comprise an eclectic crew of tattoo artists, graphic designers, farmer's market managers, dogsitters, musicians and dumpster divers, passionate human beings who live young and dance their butts off.

Then, one day I brushed past the wings of an angel - at least an angel in my visage - a punky, tattooed and dreaded Asian girl. I met her while she was practicing flow arts in a busy city park nearby where I was slacklining. We hung out the week after in the same park, chatting and getting to know eachother and I thought we had a pretty surreal connection. In a cheesy way, my consciousness slightly expanded just by meeting her, someone like her I never knew existed yet was seeking, someone I intuitively knew was out there somewhere in the universe.

Alas, I was on my way out of Toronto yet again, and our meeting was ever so fleeting. Not having any expectations or knowing at all what might have been, meeting her was still the icing on the cake at the end of my Toronto experience. It was a confirmation about the city I came back to, that I could find my way in this big scary place.

Slacklining in the park the first sunny and warm day of the year

For a reason that's both necessary and trivial, I had to return to my nomadic ways, a bit sad about leaving. But more than ever, I feel like I've grown roots in this city, built a foundation of friendships, and am proud to call it home.

For all of the travails of Toronto (and big cities in general) - traffic, rude people, cost of living, to name a few - I really love big cities because it's where the action's at. Toronto serves as the environment for a critical mass of human creativity and diversity to come together to create beautiful arts and music. This is what I love most about my hometown.

Next time I'm back in Toronto, I hope to build further on the foundation from the previous 4 months. So come sing and dance with me and let's enjoy what this amazing city has to offer!

A Fork in Every Traveler's Road

Traveling is like any other experience once you go deeper into it - it becomes incredibly nourishing and fulfilling in ways you could never imagine. You learn things about yourself you never knew were there, you have unforgettable experiences, you make amazing human connections. And sometimes the traveling experience becomes so addictive that you end up giving up your previous life entirely, to go traveling for years, maybe even decades.

And at some point you look back and wonder how you got to this place in your life, having experienced more than most people do in five lifetimes, yet feeling like you're on the outside looking in...

A lovely mix of working/volunteering travelers in Ollantaytambo, Peru 2017

Here in a nutshell (or not) is the emotional journey that leads the traveler to this eventual fork in the road. And I'll use some nerdy science to explain!

-~*~-

Beyond the most obvious and somewhat superficial reasons of going to cool places and checking off the bucket list, it can be hard to understand why one goes traveling in the first place. There certainly are more subtle, less obvious reasons why we travel.

From our tender youths, our brains are actually operating largely in the theta wavelength - this allows our brains to make and reproduce observations - in simple terms, in our youth, we learn to copy the behaviours of our family and our peers, to learn and conform to the culture of our society.

After age 7, our brains switch to a different wavelength, beta - signalling a new stage in life, one where we discover what it is we want for ourselves, how to carve out our own identity. And in this new stage, if we already fit in to the society around us, then there's no change needed or tension to address.

However, if we have a disconnect from the society around us we end up longing for escape. This societal disconnect could be with family, community or even country.

Stargazing in Uyuni Salt Flats, Bolivia 2017

When we travel, the whole experience is usually so new and stimulating that we tend to get wrapped up in the novelty of travel. Rarely do we see it as escaping from our native society as if it were a prison.

But it no doubt includes this reason - an opportunity to get away from everything we once knew, the society we grew up in, to start afresh with a clean slate, a chance to rewrite those cultural norms we learned until (and since) age 7.

So most of us go traveling for two general reasons - we are simultaneously being pulled to new experiences and pushed away from home.

But at some point the pull gets old. Like any other experience, if you travel long enough, eventually the novelty wears out. Believe it or not this can actually happen, you can start getting tired of traveling!

It happened to me anyway. At some point along my travels, I discovered that my passion for traveling had dwindled. And yet I was still doing it.

Eventually I realized the reasons as I have just been discussing - the novelty of traveling was fading away, and I was mainly escaping. In my younger days I did feel a disconnect from society, which fueled my escape. I also began long term traveling out of both discovery and escape, and now the latter was all there was left.

Playing... hopscotch? Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal 2014

This is the fork in the road - the moment when the novelty of travel fades away and no longer becomes a strong reason to continue traveling.

There are certainly long term travelers who make exception to the fork in the road - there are some whose lust for travel never dies, there are some whose disconnect from home is so strong they simply never want to go back. And there are some who never become aware of this fork in the road realization.

If you're reading this and feel stuck in your life, ask yourself this - do you feel stuck in your society, stuck in your job, stuck with your friends or family? Perhaps it is time to ride along your beta waves and go traveling to find your true identity.

Or if you are traveling without a purpose, are you simply continuing to escape from home? Then perhaps it is time to go home after all. And as difficult as it will be to confront the reasons you originally escaped, hopefully you have now developed the tools and adaptability through traveling to be able to overcome those reasons.

On my way to my hitchhiking spot towards Berlin - Warsaw, Poland 2015

Personally I did eventually return home. It has been a long process of overcoming, and I am still in the process of it. But luckily I have learned the tools and patience necessary to slowly reintegrate into Toronto society.

However, the travel bug has returned and I am longing - not for escape - but for adventure once again!

I am a Modern Day Hippie and Proud of It

I dove into hippie culture a couple of years ago, attending music festivals, discovering psychedelics in a big way, long term traveling, and overall living a free life.

I like bright colours - India, 2014

At a beautifully small intimate music festival - near Vancouver, 2016

Shambhala Music Festival, 2016

Since then I've had a hard time describing myself in conversations with people. I consider myself a hippie now but had a bit of an identity crisis at one point, as I noticed that a lot of people avoid using the word, as there seemed to be a lot of negative connotations attached to it.

Hippie is a term I have been individually mulling as well as discussing with others for quite awhile, and I think I am ready to share my thoughts about it. But first, a little context.

~-*-~

The Hippie Era came into existence with the introduction of LSD to American culture, thanks to rogue professor Timothy Leary, who originally secretly experimented with it, then defying the constraints of his research project, unleashed it to the world.

Leary famously told everyone to "turn on, tune in, drop out" as LSD dissolves boundaries created within our minds. The result is peace and love, tie dye, and a tendency to lose faith in authority.

But peace and love was the association that stuck with the hippies of the 60s.

Today, however, it's quite a different story. Today, hippies are mostly associated with dreadlocks and irresponsibility. As outcasts from society who dress in ragged clothing, don't shower, don't work and wander around aimlessly and often selfishly nourishing their bottomless need for spiritual fulfillment.

How did this happen? In the course of half a century, the term hippie went from being a unique niche in society to being derogatory. While the core values of hippieism from the 60s were retained since its inception - that of peace, love and rebelling against authority - these values have been usurped by more superficial traits such as their unkempt appearance or lack of footwear.

While hippieism was a new and novel thing in the 60s, over time it has evolved to become an easy target for society. Since society is consisted of a vast majority who conform to its norms, this majority feels threatened by those who don't conform in the same way.

However, with the growing awareness in the world of how modern society is getting so many things wrong more and more people than ever are starting to not conform. Or as Timothy Leary put it, they're turning on their brains, tuning in to the real issues, and dropping out of society.

Just a bunch of hippies on the beach - near Tofino, BC, 2016

Meditation session - Tribe Festival near Canmore, AB, 2016

And those who don't conform are getting lumped into one fringe category - that's right, the hippies. So the user group "hippie" has become watered down to encompass all people that don't conform from potheads, festival goers, anarchists and artists all the way to permaculturalists.

This has brought a lot of confusion to the identity of hippieism and left out of the argument is the core values that highlight the positives.

~-*-~

Stubborn as this goal may be, I want to reverse the watering down of the term. I want to restore the old definition and restore the integrity of what it means to be a hippie. If this means risking my own reputation as I describe myself to others, I don't care. I'm happy if I can take the next step and arrive at a meaningful discussion about the topic.

The real meaning of being hippie goes to the core values - it's about peace and love, living closer to nature and connecting with other people. It's not about Native headdresses, eating granola or hula hooping.

In these values I personally strongly believe. In these values I am proud! And I want other hippies to be proud too.

But I know that it's much easier to judge a book by its cover. Too bad that doesn't work with me. Because I rarely dress like a hippie. No dreadlocks, a few small hidden tattoos, unripped jeans and normal sweaters, no obvious smell (though grandma says otherwise).

I choose to fit the appearance stereotypes in select contexts - at music festivals, or when I'm traveling. But in most contexts I look like you're average joe.

Unfortunately, every user group is subject to such extremism, in which a few extreme users taint the reputation of the entire group. A few bad cyclists give all bad cyclists a bad name, and fuel for drivers to hate all of them. And of course we've heard of religious extremists and terrorists, which give all followers of that religion a bad name.

All this extremism just causes labeling and an us versus them mentality. And it needs to stop.

So call me an advocate for real hippies! I hope I can dissolve the boundaries within your mind about what a hippie is. If you are interested in dissolving boundaries with me, let's talk and get to know eachother!

PEACE. And ...

LOVE
Uyuni Salt Flats, Bolivia 2017

We Are All Icebergs

The concept of consciousness might be boggling to you.

After all, science has to a large degree explained how the world works, satisfying our basic need for understanding of our universe, yet it hasn't come close to understanding consciousness. Curiosity about our consciousness is an itch that is hard to satisfy. For many it is left to be scratched by priests, shamans and mystics. It is just starting to be scratched by quantum physicists (or is it?).

I am certainly not one of these authorities on consciousness, and it is still a concept which continues to boggle me. But allow me to share my own perspective, a picture of consciousness I've painted over long hours of solitude and contemplation.

My perspective of consciousness

If I were to use an ocean based analogy contrasting our own land based existence, then our consciousness is the great blue ocean, an infinite expanse, and I am just an iceberg floating on its surface. The surface of the ocean is my reality, the sensory world I live in. Or at least it is what I perceive to be real, and what's real can be validated by my fellow iceberg colleagues like you - making it a shared reality.

Despite how you perceive me, there is more to me than meets the eye - I am so much more on the inside. In fact, only 10% of an iceberg is above the ocean's surface - meaning 90% of an iceberg is underwater!

Similarly, the real me are the thoughts and emotions swimming in this unheard and unseen space of consciousness just below the surface. This realm of consciousness is the same ocean that both you and I float in. However, underwater it is too opaque for me to see you or other icebergs, thus extremely difficult to see each other for who we really are below the surface. Though we have a shared consciousness in this realm, this is not a shared reality.

The ocean of our being includes the great abyss, our subconsciousness

Yet despite how well I think I know myself and my iceberg body, there is even more to me than I thought. Below my consciousness, which goes down to only 100 metre below the surface, lies the great abyss.

The abyss houses my subconsciousness. The abyss is my subconsciousness. It is where all my thoughts and emotions eventually go, sinking down and accumulating over time.

The real me - my ultimate reality - is here. The totality of my thoughts and emotions over the course of my life, written, like a history book. But not written in stone. Floating in the depths, these thoughts and emotions are still active, stirring up massive currents which dictate the wave patterns of my ocean being all the way to the top, altering my perception at the surface and, ultimately, driving my behaviour.

In real life, this cyclic effect is constantly happening - surface stimulus which I experience trickles down into my consciousness, which processes the experience in real time, and eventually filters down into my subconsciousness for long term storage. My subconscious creates habit patterns which cycle back up to the surface, in turn changing my future surface experiences. Ultimately, all of my behavioral patterns, biases and triggers are driven by my subconsciousness.

Sometimes negative experiences trickle down as trauma. Like garbage thrown in the ocean, trauma is heavy and sinks right to the bottom. If I ignore it, it eventually accumulates, polluting my entire ocean right up to the surface, driving my negative thought patterns and behaviors such as addiction and depression.

The good news is my abyss is not written in stone. But if I want to change a behavioral pattern or trigger, I have to dive into my abyss, go deep sea fishing and fish out all my traumas from the past which lodged itself into my subconsciousness.

This process is also known as healing.

There are many ways to go deep sea fishing. But no matter how you do it there is no easy way and there are no shortcuts. If you want to change your old thought and behavior patterns, you have to go inside yourself. Going inside yourself takes a careful balance of energy, effort, time, solitude and emotional support. Finally it takes facing your demons.

I have done a lot of deep sea fishing the last several years. I've done meditation and yoga. I've done psychedelics and psycho active substances, most recently and notably ayahuasca. Ayahuasca is more like a deep sea excavation rather than just fishing. The effects are on a large scale, and it takes time after the intense experience to process and integrate all the learnings.

Meditation - one way to go inside yourself and face your demons

The day after an ayahuasca ceremony, looking hunchbacked and feeling sickly

Sometimes I have seen an ugly dark side of me, diving deep down into my abyss. But I have also had lots of positive experiences which buoyed me - long term travelling, solitude in nature, and deep human connections. The totality of these experiences have helped me to fish out many demons from my past lingering in my subconscious. I am proud to say my abyss is not so dark as it once was.

When we think of achievement we tend to think about looking up and reaching for the sky. But too often to move forward in life we need to take a step back and look inside of ourselves. Many of us are too afraid to do this, too afraid of what they'll see.

Don't be afraid to do the work. Do not fear the fear.

There are no shortcuts. Modern life has created the modern phenomenon of stress through social isolation - we no longer connect with others, nor our selves. Modern life has produced no solutions either - only medications which serve to distance us further from our selves.

The formula is quite simple: a combination of time and inner work. Do meditation, do yoga, take time to yourself, solitude in nature, and be creative. Spend quality time with the people you care about the most. If you want to take shortcuts, be warned that psychedelics, if used improperly, can harm as much as it can heal (I can definitely offer you guidance you through this process).

Look up and reach for the skies, by looking inside yourself and peering into the darkness

And finally dance! The explosion of energy that comes from your body connecting to music is very powerful and healing. Dance away, my friends.

Shambhala Music Festival - BC, Canada