50% morality 50% hypocrisy

Something or other triggered it, she was holding me, I was crying. I looked up at the wall in disbelief, like, how much longer can this go on? Here is someone who wants to change, I’m ready, I’ll do whatever it takes, just show me what I have to fucking do, you know?

My phone rang the next day and I was asked to volunteer at a Vipassana Meditation course in North England, lucky I’d been practicing consistently so my mind was concentrated and sensitive to the requirements of service.

I got the train out of London and walked along the A12 for 2 hours until I felt like sticking my thumb out. I always expect to have romantic experiences when I tramp like riding freight trains with vagabonds and poets, but it doesn’t seem to happen, I just wander around by myself feeling dirty and looking in peoples windows as they enjoy warm dinners.

I got picked up by 2 kind drivers and left a huge ink stain on one of their seats after a pen leaked in my back pocket. I knew I was never going to be able to hitch there as it got dark and the rain came down, so I kept walking to the next town where I found a bus stop and had a beautiful still moment in a sudden quiet snowfall.

I got up to Saxmundham on a series of rear bus seats, tired with wet socks and numb toes. Despite being miserable knowing I had to sleep on the street, everyone I came across had a talkative kind enthusiasm which I found hard to be coincidence.

I looked around the town for places to sleep gripping my arm pits until I found the meditation centre. It didn’t open til the next morning so I slept on the doorstep. I’ve been colder.

The next morning I heard someone coming and tried to look orderly, it was an older women with died bright orange hair wearing nike hi tops. She came and inspected me with a curious smile then opened the centre.

I was asked to be a student manager seeing as I had sat courses before and there was noone else to do it.

A student helped me in the kitchen before the course and I expressed my confliction with the ego, creativity, recognition, self publication and capitalism. He said “There’s nothing wrong with being rich, and the rest is livelihood, there’s people making loads of money on youtube just being themselves. He had a point and I’m a big fan of Russell Brand. I’d rather exploit myself than be exploited by someone else for income.

So for the next 4 days my mind justifed reestablishing social media as I meditated for at least 8 hours a day with the students, catering to their needs and liaising with the teacher.

I would look up to see if anyone was having trouble during practice as they sat for 1 hour periods without moving an inch. I felt a unity with them, sitting up with straight backs, eyes closed, hands in front, gritted teeth and teared cheeks – all there for the same reason, working to live better lives, working to come out of their misery.

Diary Entry – Sun 1 Feb

3rd day here. Sankhara’s, they only come up when the mind is focussed. It takes 2 or 3 days preparation to focus the mind. It just does. Constant thoughts continue in the background, livelihood sometimes overtaking. Not much anger at all. Write a book. Once a thief. Have not spoken to Flo for at least 3 days. I thought she might message to check on me. I shouldn’t be writing, drawing and eating chocolate at a meditation course. I was clean and as soon as I ate it my thoughts clouded and I got clammy. When I do something I know is not good for me it makes it easier to slip into other behaviours or thoughts which I’d otherwise be able to resist, especially anger.

I saw the lid of sleep shut on my head.

Something is coming – to understand. something words cannot teach. Pain are tools to heal. The difference between understanding and not is how much you are prepared to work, how much pain you are prepared to face. It’s so easy to runaway, and most do.

The pain won’t go away until you learn what it is trying to teach you. Don’t poison yourself it makes your mind weak. The reaction to pain is the misery. Dr Richards (social anxiety) was RIGHT! I can’t yet face all the pain, it’s duration outstays my determination but I stalk it persistently. The sensations are not the goal but a way to observe the truth in a physical form. It’s about getting to the point where you are detached from them. They are not yours anymore. You are the control man sitting in a glass box watching. In this moment I understand. I remember.

No words or feelings. Watching, knowing from the window of amber light, unattachment, so perfect, things pass, continue to scan to see what happens which has no importance. Something is coming and it’s not how I thought it would be.

+ high-res version

This is the Sunday Flea Markets at Mauerpark which means “wall park” as it was part of the Berlin Wall and death strip.

I was captivated by the cold industrial energy and the grit.

The way people dressed exceeded my comprehension of style. Trench coats and military greens, deep organic colours, fur coats with boots mixed with dreadlocks and facial tattoos.

People talking to themselves with black eyes, a man showing his penis, the biggest public karaoke platform, twirlers, a kick ass drum circle dance party and alot of weedsmoke.

I’ve still seen no place like it.

C008358-R4-06-6A C008358-R3-30-31

17 Jan 2015

Peckham, London.

We went for a walk to the market and my gf asked if I was impressed that she’s only been smoking 1 cigarette a day.

Heard it all before I thought, with a sanctimonious musing of my own sugar addiction.

“Yeah until you get rat faced tonight,” I said.

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that, I always have trouble expressing such things without irritability but it was a compounded response to repetitions of hers that she isn’t a big drinker and I felt compelled to submit conflicting evidence.

She’s not a big drinker compared to many (and myself at her age), it’s environmental – but she drinks, she gets affected and she does it frequently. She’s always unquestionably selfless, fun and integral but for a few days after there’s an obvious void in her spirituality and emotional independence which is hard to connect with when you know her capabilities. It is in decline however (it’s not that I don’t want her to do drugs, I just don’t want her to do drugs) and could be so much worse. Treats me like a king too she does. When I was her age I was a criminal, and seeing as intimacy and stability are my greatest disabilities she is already doing her share of making exceptions for me.

On the way home I said “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” She said.

“You are the best girlfriend in the world and I’m so lucky to have you.”

She gripped my hand and smiled.

She insisted we go to Lidl at which I protested because I do my best not to shop in supermarkets as I believe by financially supporting huge corporations I’m an advocate for the greedy bloated capitalist’s human and environmental exploitation.

She filled the trolley and I felt tempted by the extensive fresh pastry section and conflicted by my consumer ethics, also helpless because whatever she bought was for both of us which I would surely eat in a few days with inconsistent ideals.

I went and sat outside in the cold and returned when I saw her at the checkout. She justified shopping there because she’s a student, that nuts at independent stores are too expensive and how fairly so, she makes ethical choices whenever possible.

“It could be worse,” she said.

I looked at the bags of nuts on the conveyer belt, then replied “And it could be better.”

What I meant by that is if you can’t afford to buy ethical products from ethical suppliers then you can’t afford to buy nuts. It’s like buying caged eggs because they’re cheaper and giving the thumbs up to lock a chicken up in a dark shoebox it’s whole life.

Well what’s wrong with Lidl? Oh I don’t know, they are a global corporation selling cheap foreign products with the only concern of gobbling up as much profit as possible and injecting it into the hands of a few people who have more of it than they know what to do with?

I agree that corporations have made it difficult for consumers to shop independently by squeezing out local business with cheaper multi convenience but there is always a choice. Imagine if it became untrendy to use such services because people realised they’d been manipulated using consumer techniques developed by Edward Bernays and were angry, then reclaimed their independence with minimalism and returned to the green grocers which were in such demand that you and your neighbour could make a living too.

I can make a difference, and it’s about where I spend my money. They need me, I don’t need them. (Unless there’s nowhere else to get biscuits.) Maybe I should make my own. right now….brb.

After christmas I became convinced that my life was restricted by my mental health and for the rest of the year I was going to meditate seriously with Vipassana to cultivate inner peace and outward love. (Which is not a new pursuit.) After all what is the point and nobility of all my ambitions if their foundation is not pure? How can you save the world when you destroy yourself?

I have meditated as serious as I could for the last 2 weeks, I locked myself in solitude for 2 days with a non verbal sign on the door to inform my housemates who were so supportive.

It’s hard, you want to give up the whole time because your mind won’t focus, you can’t feel your breath, you can’t feel the sensations, you are lost in the future and the volume of boring work ahead of you which you aren’t even sure works. They say meditation with an objective isn’t meditation but if I didn’t want to gain something from it I wouldn’t bloody do it would I?

But the hard work has paid off, I’m much more intimate with the cats and resistant to habitual tendencies like anger. After all if you can withstand an hour of meditation without changing your posture with your limbs screaming and your mind telling you to give up now, you start developing resistance to distracting ideas like depression.

When I wonder whether it’s worth it, I have a look at life over the last 10 years and it has improved dramatically which I believe is through a determined effort to become more peaceful and treat people better. Or maybe it just happens irrespective of my efforts. I do wonder whether I need a therapist instead of meditation though.

I’ve almost deleted this blog so many times, I really am conflicted by it but I feel compelled to interact and share today although I know it distracts me during meditation and life as I analyze every metabolic process for newsworthiness.

I still get a great deal from reading articles on the internet, they are like the gutter barriers at the bowling alley as I look for guidance to reassure I’m on the right track. Maybe I have a responsibility to share my information in return and help others or just dress up attention seeking in altruism. Everyone I look up to makes public expressions, they’d have to or I’d not have read them. It’s either a fantastic resource or one that makes me lazy and stops me learning from physical experiences. But there was no internet around when I was a teenager and I was out of control. Alot of the time I think it’s just easier to try to connect with people and share some article I typed up in a few hours in delusions of significance than get out and actually contribute to society. I think anything of true value takes time to create. Anyone can write about changing the world or living integrally but it doesn’t mean they are actually doing it. And how much difference does reading an article make anyway?

I’ve got 3 months of tumultuous diary I’d like to condense and share somehow because without sharing there would be absolutely no reason to do it. Maybe a podcast or something.

Thanks for reading

when i get angry at them i dont like it anymore and I was trying to change my head

then i was always folding my legs and can only seeing some blackness

i said it is the nothing

it was hurting and sweat was coming

i keep to work

i am always trying to perfection my head

in there some secrets cant hide

then i was dirty and i think nobody can friends with me

i was in my head at the bridge and so far down is the water

when im sitting on the steps jack said if i was ok

he told me did i ever kiss a man

i wasn’t doing it or the other things but i had before done some things

then my girlfriend heard it and asking that she doesnt know it

i was telling her and she was always my girlfriend and said dont ever to change.

i am asking the questions everytime what is the point for all this things in a book

everytime the pictures and blog and in and out some breathing

finn said not always changing yourself

i was inside dont know who am i

then i said hi im chris bell!

you cant answer your own question

There is no answer for always breathing

You will all the time ask it and learn dont to ask it at the same time

I think that was called a paradox

you were always have to trick the mind so it cant see whats your plan

always saying what is the point!

then i said nobody knows it


dont always looking for some instructions from someone different

then i drink the coffee but not some beer why?

my head wants to looking out the clear window

not if it has a shit inside

so how to stop saying why?

you dont and you keep in and out some breathing

i think it was accepted

all the time life was entertainment











At the edges of our town you could walk for miles through paddocks, across streams and wetlands, through vineyards, tall grass and bushland, past kangaroo’s bedrooms where bobtails hissed and kookaburras laughed.

Whiteman Park was in the middle of it all and Gnangara Pine Plantation stretched off into a never ending mystery of shadowy tracks beneath tall needly arches.

Single carriage roads connected the towns, people had credit at the shop and long driveways with names on their letterboxes.

Then the suburbs expanded and displaced the ducks that now sleep next to the widened road, pine tree bellies lie sawn in rows next to their root systems pulled from the earth like dusty hearts.

Kangaroos still graze in places, behind developers signs promising to house 2000 future families.

Why can’t those families live somewhere else?

Kangaroos used to graze where my house is.

Nov 26 2014

I’m staying in the ethnic community of Peckham with Flo in South East London. We live in a 5 bedroom townhouse with 6 of her friends. I’d like to write about them because they make me smile and a more conscious person.

Flo grew up with Charlie who is in a lesbian relationship with another housemate Finn. They both wear binders which flatten their boobs. Charlie does not identify with gender and requests that when being referred to the pronouns “them” or “they” are used. I slip up all the time and they gently remind me. I imagine how frustrating it would be when people don’t understand or hold importance to Charlie’s wishes, tempting them to just put up with it and suppress themselves which they are obviously sick of doing.

The attention Charlie pays to our conversations produces a feeling of self worth. I see a great empathetic sagacity within them which they are perhaps unaware of, it encourages the pure vision and prejudicial end I seek. I wish not to disappoint them with my tongue.

Flo and I are almost too good. We hadn’t seen each other in 4 months and I had suffered intense periods of doubt over the future of our relationship. She came to meet me at the airport. She stood there bright eyed and smiling with pieces of fruit. It was weird, like I had to get to know her allover again. But I soon remembered why we are together.

She kept smiling, and holding me all the way home, telling me of my new home and housemates, all the things we were going to do, the talks we were going to hear and the art we were going to make. I haven’t told her this but as she led my hand across London Bridge Station I was filled with the familiar fears that it was not going to work, that I was going to be trapped, fabricating a self eroding affection that would destroy me and send me running across the Eurasian continent.

I talked to her as soon as I could about things that have worried me and which I could not tell her before due to distrust of my own emotions and fear of hurting and losing her. It’s a fucking spider web and she does NOT like some of the things she hears but the critical point is that honesty dissolves uncertainties and increasingly proven is that she is the best equipped to deal with them. I can see why it’s SO hard to tell people exactly what you are thinking because you just don’t want to hurt people or are petrified of being alone. You end up hiding, acting, doubting, with a closet full of skeletons.

I told Flo that I don’t feel like having sex all the time and that I have felt pressured in the past, that if I didn’t do it she would become unhappy with me and look elsewhere and that there was something wrong with me for feeling that way.

I believe that our connection has a greater conscious magnetism when our lesser desires are not being expelled into a pile of tissues everyday.

If sex were meant to be a passtime noone would get pregnant from it.

She reassured me tenderly, her love continued outpouring and it will all have a positive affect on the cause.

Flo took me to her University to see a portrait she painted of me. People’s work was allover the walls and much of it was way out of my reach. I felt at home in the photography studio, I was ready to sign up there and then, if only I had my citizenship.

As I came around the partition into Flo’s studio her position diverted my attention to an intense burnt orange profile up on the wall, I seized momentarily, it was me, actually me – not just the body but the soul, with blue, neon pink and lime highlights. I didn’t have to pretend I liked it, I felt justified, like she sees in me something I can’t, like a good fire.








Emotions continue to be a constant battle for me so I support this sort of expression. Good Luck.

Originally posted on Recovering The Flow:

Recently the feelings of self loathing and worthlessness began to creep in stealthy, morbid thoughts began to replay in my mind, and suicide was beginning to seem like the easiest way put before hitting he abyss again.

I knew my health was becoming an unbearable issue again and knew things would get dangerous without help. So on Thursday I went to my GP unlike my usual reserved self and actually explained how I was feeling with brutal honesty, describing past traumas and their affects leading to my current lack of sanity. In a disturbingly calm manner I managed to consciously tell her of my unwanted subconscious plan to end my life just after Christmas, likely cause being death by drowning since I have already once failed with the method of overdosing. Overdosing…don’t do it, horrible horrible experience. So anyway my doctor was wonderfully understanding and decided that I should try…

View original 205 more words

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Inside some sort of dark factory

with dim lights on

roller doors with chains opening and closing them

down each corridor is a deep lane of water

someone is there with me, Blake?

The walls are black and slimy

I dive in and look around

it’s dark but visible

sudden glance left

there is a massive orange octopus tentacle next to me

it is looking at me

pulls back it’s tentacle and starts waving

I call out to my friend

I think it’s Blake

for the trust I feel in his underwater knowledge

I swim right to the bottom

unlimited air?

I backstroke underwater

The view is beautiful

crystal clear water

slimy black walls

an underwater bat

the night sky with stars and 3 moons

I must be living.

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 306 other followers