No man is an island. It’s a commonly accepted truth that we all need human interaction in order to be fulfilled, but I have a confession. I avoid social occasions where I can.
I’m not an agoraphobic hermit, and I do enjoy spending time with my partner, wider family and a few close friends. You could say that I am more of a peninsula than an island, but I have never understood how people enjoy work Christmas functions or weddings.
There couldn’t be two more opposite characters to juxtapose.
You have the calm, serenity of Gautama Buddha, who would meditate peacefully under a waterfall in the knowledge that all things are one. With Donald Trump, you have a bombastic, egotistical, billionaire turned politician who is rioted against when he is elected president.
But their qualities aren’t mutually exclusive. That’s right – in this post, I am going to explain why you should enjoy the best of both mindsets.
It was a crisp autumn morning and I was walking to my client’s building up in the nicer end of the city to begin my first day of the job that I had studied to do for the previous three years.
I had done some menial labour for the last few months with the company that employed me, but a talent void was created within the company when one of the client technicians resigned, and I got pulled into that void.
I have seen the articles and Facebook posts lamenting the past twelve months as a year best forgotten and the collective sighs of relief from the majority have been almost palpable, although of course this is a subjective perspective.
If you have an Internet connection and live on Earth, chances are you heard about New Zealand’s M7.8 earthquake last week. That’s right, little old NZ was in global headlines. But that’s not why I’m writing this post – I’ll leave nationalistic-inferiority-complex bragging to our mainstream media.
I live in Wellington. Not very close the epicentre down south, but I sure felt it. And I’d like to share some things I learned that I will be applying to my personal life.
It’s the question that is as old as time itself. Ever since humans have been cognizant of their own existence, noblemen with their cognac, philosophers with the cigars, scholars in their libraries, beggars in the depths of their despair and students over bottles of cheap wine have asked the question:
Why are we here? Or in the case of the individual, why am I here?