FreshWrite is back after a hangover.

I came to a standstill after writing close to 400 articles in a year.

It happened suddenly last Friday. I was about to start writing, but my head was utterly empty.

Have you ever experienced a similar situation?

You have been working hard, with great impetus and mostly even in a flow state that Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi described in his book "Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience," in 1990. You are already in heaven and away from any purgatories of life. You are a pro in many ways: proactive, productive and prosperous.

Instead of being a pro (as Steven Pressfield encourages you in his brilliant book "Turning Pro: Tap Your Inner Power and Create Your Life's Work"), I faced a blank wall – it was not a writer's block but a wall. In his book, Pressfield (one of my many favourites, by the way) encourages me to leave behind my amateur mindset, embrace discipline and dedication, and take full responsibility for my own success. I should just tell my fat arse to sit tight and to my fingers to write light no matter what might blight on. Yeah, you'r right.

I didn't give a fuck. Much like Mark Manson suggested in his witty book "The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck". Manson argues that instead of striving for constant positivity and avoiding negative experiences, I should embrace life's inevitable struggles and focus on what truly matters to me.

Are you rowing in the same boat but maybe with different kinds of oars?

My oar came in the evening in the form of Chardonnay.

I have been without any alcohol for about two years. Not because I am an alcoholic but because even small amounts of that nectar ruin my sleep. If I drink a glass of wine in the evening, I will not get deep sleep, I wake up several times, and after five or six hours, I am wide awake but tired like hell.

So, I stopped drinking. Easy.

Until last Friday, that is.

My wife and I were watching (and now you can start laughing - I don't mind) Middsummer Murders on Amazon Prime. I opened a nice bottle of Chardonnay for her, but she was into tea, to my surprise.

Because I had this wall in front of me the whole day, I decided to see if I could screw it away with some quality wine and low-quality TV. As a devoted and mischievous Buddhist, I thought of one paragraph from Nichiren Daishonin's (1222-1282) letter to a hot-headed samurai.

"Drink sake only at home with your wife, and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. Suffer what there is to suffer, enjoy what there is to enjoy. Regard both suffering and joy as facts of life, and continue chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, no matter what happens. How could this be anything other than the boundless joy of the Law? Strengthen your power of faith more than ever." – Nichiren Daishonin.

So, there were no excuses not to drink. The bottle was already open, the TV was on, and the wife was on a tea diet. I decided to have one sip. One sip turned into several until two episodes of Midsomer Murders were killed, and the bottle was empty.

I was tipsy, but to my great amusement and my wife's disbelief, not very drunk. I felt light, relieved and calm. There was no need to socialise or do anything more than be and take in the world through slightly alcohol-distorted lenses. I was at peace. And the wall was gone.

I was thinking many thoughts about the sufferings and joys of my life, and like Nichiren so well put it, I started to regard both of them as facts of life. I knew I would continue both my Buddhist practice and writing – but not just now.

The power of my faith means that I can get my shit together and move on. I make all my walls; on the other hand, the universe offers just a vast field of opportunities.

There I was. I was finally released from my prison.

The hangover is a bliss

The next day, I woke up early, as I knew would be the case. My sleep stats were abysmally terrible, as my Ōura Ring mercilessly told me, but I wasn't having this hammering feeling of guilt and remorse. I felt light and right.

I spent most of Saturday helping pack the stuff from our community centre to be moved to our newly built beautiful centre right in the heart of Wellington, Whare Soka Buddha. It will be a beacon of peace, culture and education – a place for people to grow, support each other and enjoy the fruits of belonging.

Then came Sunday, and instead of being a pro, I went for a very long bushwalk to shake the remains of my hangover (at my age, it takes at least two days) to the birds of the lush bush of the Eastern Hills. I felt ready for a fight and strong like a knight.

What did I learn from my hangover?

Today, when I woke up, a model of my learning journey came to mind (see the diagram below).

I realised that after a spark of innovation, inspiration, and intuition, there comes a steep hill of effort. This effort is required to make those sparks light the fire, allowing others to warm their hearts in its heat.

It's like my 400 articles—a joy to write but simultaneously exhausting.

The wall wasn't a writer's block, but my expectations and all that come with imposter syndrome, Lutherian work ethics, and myopic focus on not getting enough done.

I had to reset.

This time, Chardonnay came as a surgical scalpel to cut the crap and show that the wall wasn't a thick obstacle set by my destiny but a thin membrane of my assumptions.

Leonard Cohen sang beautifully:

"Ring the bells that still can ring /
 Forget your perfect offering / 
There is a crack in everything / 
That's how the light gets in."

And indeed, the light got in.

I am now on a plateau to recover, re-organise and re-thinking to become again my pro self: proactive, properly productive and profoundly me. I am on a plateau where I don't give a fuck, because I know that soon comes again, the moment where I can see the world as new, and I am full of beans shouting through my keyboard, Fuck, yeah!

Reflecting on my life, these three phases have always been there: Fuck, yeah; What the fuck!; I don't give a fuck!

How does your life pan out? Do you have this kind of pattern in your life, and how do you deal with it? What are your 'What the fuck moments' when you have to stop, reflect and reset everything to gain back your strength?

Ngā mihi

Jussi

Live in London – Leonard Cohen

This week, I don't have you a book but a live recording of Leonard Cohen. His concert in London's 02 Arena in July 2008 was a brilliant collection of his songs that talk so profoundly and take you so high.

The concert is truly a remarkable experience, showcasing Leonard Cohen's incredible talent and the evolution of his music throughout his career. From the very beginning, with classics like "Suzanne" and "Bird On the Wire," to his later masterpieces like "Hallelujah," "Everybody Knows," "Democracy," and "First We Take Manhattan," Cohen takes us on a journey through his entire repertoire.

The incredible ensemble of supporting singers, who add depth and richness to the performance, makes the concert even more special. With their ambitious guitars and percolating keyboards, the backing band provides a sensitive yet energetic backdrop for Cohen's exploration of his own music. He approaches each song with reverence and a touch of good humour, truly embodying the essence of his work.

And the audience? They are captivated, cheering wildly when Cohen sings about his "golden voice." It's a testament to his unique ability to convey emotion and meaning with a limited vocal range. As Cohen ages, his voice has only become more powerful and evocative. The deepening of his lowest range adds an ominous and foreboding darkness to these songs of personal struggle and spiritual grace.

It's impossible not to be in awe of Leonard Cohen's talent and his impact on the music industry. This concert is a celebration of his remarkable career, and it's an honour to witness it firsthand.

Here, you can listen to it on Apple Music.

My latest articles on Medium.

My latest article on Vocal