October 10, 2008


Welcome all to ‘Back and to The Future’ – the blog that dares to be mildly entertaining, even at 2am.


I’ll tell you one thing I don’t understand – people who use plastic bags more than once. Today, there’s this perfectly respectable gentleman type reading the Financial Times on the tube, but for some reason, he’s decided to keep his umbrella, scarf, and whatever else in a Tesco bag he seemingly acquired in 1984. Result? He looks like a homeless.


Good morning all! And a very, very special welcome to DR, who got a very lengthy mention in my last blog entry, where I preached about how wonderful it was to be totally honest with someone. Last night, she asked me if I believe in fate, and, as I had posed exactly the same question of myself in that same entry, I could only laugh, and point her in the direction of the blog.


Yesterday was the Jewish Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur – though I sort of wish it was today, to be honest, so I could atone for the almighty fuck up I have just made at work. More on this when I’m not turning my office upside down looking for a piece of paper.


I spent the day at home doing nothing, and trying to hide from my sister, who was in a foul mood from not eating. I, on the other hand, enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and a breezy breakfast of Tea, The Times, and some Sultana Bran. I had intentions of spending the day doing some degree work, since I was becoming all too conscious that I had done none so far. In these instances, I tend to put a lot of pressure on myself and my inner monologue turns lecturer, telling me I’m most likely going to fail. The old self-loathing is still there from time to time, it seems.


Struggling with the day – not to mention struggling with quite how to participate in some atonement of my own and subsequently feeling pretty pissed off, I hit the gym, determined to destroy the dark clouds of thought which were gathering. My mind was all over the place, and I couldn’t even concentrate on not being able to concentrate.


I was flicking around on my iPod, trying to find something to listen to. I flicked through any number of songs before reaching Metallica, and a song off their new album, ‘The Unforgiven III’. (I’m quite a fan of Metallica, though I generally only listen to them in the gym) I was pumping away, enjoying the anger of the whole thing, and then, suddenly, I was swept with emotion. I heard these lyrics:


How could he know
This new dawn’s light
Would change his life forever?
Set sail to sea
But pulled off course
By the light of golden treasure

Was he the one causing pain
With his careless dreaming?
Been afraid
Always afraid
Of the things he’s feeling




How can I be lost?
In remembrance I relive
And how can I blame you
When it’s me I can’t forgive?
Forgive me
Forgive me not
Forgive me
Forgive me not
Forgive me
Forgive me not
Forgive me
Forgive me
Why can’t I forgive me?









(nb – to follow on from my new belief in fate, I have had Metallica’s ‘Unforgiven II’ stuck in my head all week)


I was reminded of some of my Hoffman teachings, how we assume blame for so much, when so much of it is beyond our control. I was reminded of the great tool of forgiveness, and of my great pattern of self-sabotage and self-blame. As I struggled to hold back tears, I pumped my legs harder than ever, just in time for a ridiculous guitar solo.


40 minutes later, drenched in sweat and ears ringing, I left the gym feeling slightly better about myself, and slightly more at peace.


I think I have been restless recently, slightly worried that perhaps I am allowing little bits of the ‘old’ David to slip back into my life. I have, for some reason, become once again consumed by distraction – be it my laptop, a TV, my phone, or music – and can go seemingly nowhere without something to ‘do’.


This is something I have become especially aware of at home, where I never off the phone, never not checking my emails, and spend far more time online than I generally should. I came back upstairs, ears still ringing, and saw my room for what it was – a place of terrible energy, cluttered to the extreme, and set up so that I can enjoy all of these distractions at once. It is little wonder I can’t concentrate.


I ate dinner with the family, and though I engaged in conversation where I could, my mind was elsewhere, filled with questions about choice, my lack of focus, and how much of it I was responsible for.


I returned upstairs as my parents settled down to watch yet another reality show – they’re addicted – and decided to go for a swim. I am very fortunate that I live in a lovely home, and my parents have a swimming pool in their basement; indoor, and closed off from any noise. Wanting to be away from my phone and any other temptations, I stepped into the pool, closed my eyes, and just floated, allowing my mind to go where it would.


I was immediately struck by serenity – it was as though, on this Day of Atonement, I was being washed by gentle warm waters; my thoughts and concerns, my worries and anxieties just falling away. I felt a calm I have no felt for some time, and my mind eventually wandered to my sanctuary, and to thoughts of my Hoffman Process.


I knew that what I had been going through, today and in the days that preceded it, was a pattern, albeit a fraction of a number of patterns, all joined together in one. I knew that the only person stopping me from being the me I rather liked was myself. I also knew I could do something about it.


I began to check in with myself, asking my emotional child how he was feeling – and for the first time, he appeared as less than an adult. In fact, he was but a child again, and I felt as thought I was him, failing at school again. I checked with my intellect, who was frustrated at somehow not being able to exercise his muscles, and who felt it was my emotional child that had the upper hand. And then, I checked with my spiritual self, and became so overwhelmed with emotion, that I had to hold back my tears. There is something to pure and relieving about the connection I have there – it is as though meeting him absolves me of whatever it is that ails me. I felt a million times better.


And then, for the first time since I have left Florence House, I met with my guide. I asked him a question, and received a gift – a miniature bicycle. Like all gifts from him, despite the convoluted metaphors they often represent, I immediately knew what he meant:


‘This journey needs to be taken one small bit at a time.’


I guess you’d probably have to have done the process to know what the hell I am talking about there.


I cannot even begin to tell you how much better I felt. No wait… I can! I’ve got a blog! I felt fucking fantastic. I felt calm, and most importantly, focused. I took a quick shower, and before long was sitting on my bed reading that which I had put off for so long. I set myself a small target, completed it, and felt rewarded. I planned another series of small tasks, and gave them times and dates. And then… I stopped. And did no more.


It was a strange day, alright. You have days of delirium and days of struggle, just like anyone, and yesterday was probably the latter. That said, I am happy – I am happy that I didn’t let it get the better of me, and I am happy that I have the tools at my disposal to be able to combat whatever it is that troubles me.


I went to bed, called DR to say good night, and ended up hanging up at 1.30am – having revealed my blog, and organizing Sunday, when I am seeing her. Whether she was reading or not, I would say the same thing: I am really looking forward to it. Hopefully, I won’t be blogging here on Monday morning with another disaster story. Though it does make for funny reading.


So, until Monday folks, I hope you have a great weekend.


Lots of love,

Closed Box


5 Responses to “Aquaman”

  1. UrbanVox Says:

    I thought I was the only one that did that!
    whenever I need to put my ming at ease… fix my ideas I hit the swimming pool…
    The one I hit is not quiet of silent (Virgin Active… go figure) but after I discovered an underwater mp3 player I get myself into the mood I need…
    BTW… hope you don’t mind if I drop in here once in a while… 🙂
    I hate huge posts… but somehow I go through yours kinda V easily…

    I don’t think things happen without a purpose whatever that be… right now I am rediscovering and reinventing myself…

    And I am loving the journey! hehehe

    Bout the guy with the plastic bag… eco-freak??? 🙂

  2. Neil Manchester Says:

    Hey Urban Vox, when putting your ‘ming’ at ease, perhaps a public pool isn’t quite the place?

  3. UrbanVox Says:

    huahuahuahua… when I wrote the comment I was in bed with a 40C fever so I am excused for the misspellings… 🙂
    on the contrary… I am a devoted observator of the human nature… Somehow studying other people’s actions and reactions keeps me at ease… It relaxes me…
    apart from that, I simply shut myself off to others when I’m in the swimming pool… a trip to my own private world.
    It works fine for me… helps the flow of ideas… somehow I find in others the response to some of my predicaments…
    Plus I work from home (alone) most of the time, so the company is more than welcomed! 😉

  4. Mike Says:

    Interesting that you mention the bloke with the carrier bag. A bit of transference, maybe? But I did like the deliberate post-modern poor grammar 😉

  5. David Levy Says:

    Yes, my grammar sucks. And I went to a grammar school. No excuses, I know.

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