This morning, I blew £160 on a replacement filling. Afterwards, I walked four miles back home feeling pretty buoyant, despite my bank account having been holed a few inches above the waterline. I may be poorer, but I also no longer have what felt like the Chicxulub Crater embedded in one of my lower molars. Possibly I have embraced some of Adam Smith's philosophy of acceptance.
My grandfather worked for Shell for most of his life. Through his association with the company, he met the war hero Douglas Bader, who also worked in the oil business. Decades prior to this, in 1931, Bader lost both legs in an air crash. He described the accident as follows: “Crashed. Slow-rolled near the ground. Bad show”. Despite his injuries, he rejoined the RAF in World War II and achieved several aerial victories prior to being shot down and captured by the Germans, from whom he eventually escaped; an extraordinary achievement for a man with no legs. After being recaptured, he was interred in Colditz until the end of the war.
In WWI, over 41,000 British servicemen lost one or more of their limbs. I do not wish to discount the trauma that an injury of this nature can wreak upon the psyche. That being said, these men would have been able to observe others with similar injuries who had recovered and who were able to get around despite their handicap and lead relatively normal lives, and in some cases extraordinary lives. There was a body of reliable evidence upon which a recent amputee could establish his hope for a better future.
In the case of Joanna of Castile, there is no such evidence. There is what amounts to a ghost story. There would have been incidences of people returning to life as a result of being incorrectly identified as dead. That is understandable. I have seen people die. When they go slowly, sometimes it is hard to tell exactly when it happened. However, even in Joanna's time, there would have been abundant evidence that in the majority of cases, dead was dead. The spark of life is absent. They put you in the ground where you eventually rejoin the Scrabble tile bag of elements that were formed during and after the big bang. There was never any real basis for her to hope.
When I was diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, I read as many of the medical journal articles as I could lay my hands on. In blank prose, that will at most rise to adjectives such as 'regrettable' and 'unfortunate', I learned what I could realistically expect, along with the best that I reasonably could hope for. I also made friends who had been diagnosed around the same time that I had been given my diagnosis. I was able to measure my experiences against their own. Occasionally the discussion would turn towards medical research currently underway, or bespoke treatment. Some people would get quite evangelical about this. The way I thought about, and still do, is to frame this research and these drugs as something that will benefit the next generation of sufferers. You can help them by participating in studies that will advance these new treatments. You can build hope, though you might not be the recipient if or when it bears fruit.
Now all of the friends are dead. All the journals tell me is that I have beaten the odds in terms of survivability, though not the disease which is unbeatable. By remaining hopeful, but moderating those hopes in accordance with hard evidence, I think I have achieved a balance between acceptance of the way things are today, and guarded optimism that things might be better in the future. I am grateful for the present, where I can walk along Southend seafront on a sunny morning in Autumn, and see the geese bobbing at the tideline, and rub my tongue up against my mended tooth.
In terms of the big far-flung hopes that are entertained by the likes of Joanna of Castile, my advice would be to allow others to dream them on your behalf. All over the world there are people researching the various technologies that might restore movement to individuals like yourself. Many of these dreams will remain just that – they were too far-fetched or they were ahead of their time. However, there remains a possibility that one day a new technology that began as the glimmer of a hope, nurtured by some venture capital, might be brought to you as an emergent reality backed by empirical data.
Paul, this reminds me of the prayer adopted by AA “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” These words offer comfort to some but each has their own life circumstances. I really do empathise with your situation. My brother in law passed away a few days ago. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s disease for several years but, prior to this, he was an avid sportsman, spent all his days, active, outdoors. He found this illness unbearable and at the end as he lost all control of his body. He was always strong and determined, always in control. and so, no longer wanting to live he no longer ate and declined rapidly. The family hired a private nurse to administer IV and care as (being in Lebanon) they feared the hospital would be bombed, but he saw no hope at all, and as my Irish family would say, he gave up the ghost. He was a strong man in every way so we could all see how difficult this illness was for him and the toll it took on him but with his death, which we can acknowledge as a release for him, his loss has been felt very deeply, and his physical presence leaves a big hole. However he had lived a long life, over 75 years of being fully active and healthy before deteriorating dying at age 84.
Please forgive me if I sound patronising, as I fear anything I may say might come across that way as I’m not in
your situation, I am not living it, but as someone else has said, this has been a short time to adjust, to accept this major life change and Paul, to be honest, I actually think you are doing incredibly well, back teaching, writing, you mentioned you had attended a wedding in one of your posts. I think you are courageous and a brave young man.
I can recommend an allegorical children’s book that is quite sophisticated on the danger of hope. The Homeward Bounders by Diana Wynne Jones. I’ve always adored her books. That one I’ve always found quite poignant. She’s the best fantasy writer. If you can cope with reading books. The good thing about children’s books is they are quite short, and absorbing.
I first came across your blog as one of your old professors came into the shop that I work in, we got chatting about climbing and the outdoors (I work in an outdoor clothes retail shop) which led him onto telling me about you and your situation, I was instantly intrigued.
Although I cannot recall the name of your professor he spoke highly of you explaining that you are immensely clever and “a genius”, he explained how by the age of 18 you where helping him run lectures and that your future was very bright.
After our interaction in the shop I dived into your blogs, impressed by your writing style and it confirmed to me that his opinions on you where true.
As a 20 year old man reading about your experiences it has aided in taking nothing for granted and that even though times may be tough perseverance and mindset is the key.
You’re doing amazing and we’re all here supporting you day by day.
As someone with Parkinson's disease and Functional Neurological disorder, l agree with you: 'hope' sucks! In the beginning when l was newly diagnosed (4 years ago) l scoured the Internet for articles on new treatments. I studied medical reports, watched countless videos. But no longer. It depressed me to think that there's nothing imminent in the pipeline. No cure or better treatment. Hope hurts!!
You're spot on regarding acceptance. I've discovered it's the only way forward for me. I want to be happy and it's only by telling myself that 'this is it' that l can accept my path with positivity, curiosity even. Much love ❤️
I think this post is brilliant. Thank you for sharing it. If you are seeking more peer-reviewed publications, it could be a candidate. (Perhaps *Bellevue Literary Journal*, or a Canadian one called *Ars Medica*, or *Journal of Medical Humanities*?)
What you wrote about Smith, enough time, and mental tranquillity is heartening.
Saw your article on the Guardian, and I thought I would make a suggestion. You might feel tempted to take it as proselytism, but please don't: it's just a suggestion.
Since the outer world seems to have become out of reach, at least for now, pending advances in spinal injury treatment, I suggest that you explore your inner world. I understand that it may sound like a dumb suggestion, to compare the vast and expansive beauty of the mountains, with whatever happens when we close our eyes and look inwards. And perhaps it is a bit dumb, the mountains are really beautiful, but I think it is less dumb than it seems at first, to someone who has never done inner exploration. So let me try to pitch it to you briefly.
People have been interested in inner exploration for a long time, I believe that there are at least 2500 years of recorded history, but it probably goes further back. It has been popularized to some extend with LSD in the 60s. People interested in exploring this inner space used to call themselves psychonauts, a term I like quite a lot because it makes one feel a bit like an astronaut, but costs less money.
The premise is this: there exists an inner world to explore, it is vast and varied and interesting. It can blow your mind. Among the various experiences that one can have are:
* Breaking down subjective experience to its most atomic elements, seeing that all subjective experience is formed out of tiny vibrations that coalesce together to form the various objects we experience.
* Realizing that concepts are just a particular layer of experience, and that 99% of all experience is non-conceptual. Becoming familiar with that 99%.
* Entering various altered states of consciousness, chief among which are the 8th jhanas of buddhist practice. Each jhana is a layer of the mind, and you learn to become focused on that particular layer. Some of these layers are quite weird and fun, like the 5th jhana of infinite space, the 6th jhana of infinite consciousness, the 7th jhana of emptyness, and the 8th jhana of neither perception nor non-perception.
* Going through all kinds of psychedelic experiences, such as multicolored space-filling mandalas and lucid dreaming.
* Weird paranormal experiences like talking to spirits, ghosts, and other entities. I am told one can definitely have these experiences, and have them be interesting and informative, without necessarily believing that we are seeing actual ghosts, e.g. by taking the perspective that they are vivid manifestation of subconscious forces.
* Have a lot of pleasure, as several of the known practices are designed to produce a pleasant abiding.
* Finding a layer of perception which is completely free from turmoil and angst. Experiencing reality without a sense of time, as in, it's always now and there are no thoughts of past or future.
I consider myself a psychonaut, but definitely did not experience all of the above. I'm not sure any of this appeals to you. But I do know one thing: it is possible to do this kind of inner exploration with the same bold, determined, adventuring spirit with which you once climbed mountains.
And having myself done both, I can tell you from experience that it is possible to transform one's perception so that it is so vast, sharp, and clear, to the point that looking at a placid scene in the neighborhood park is as intense and rewarding as a vista from the highest mountain used to be, a few years ago. In truth, I suspect you liked to climb mountains as much for the state of mind the vista would put you in (vast, expansive, all-inclusive, peaceful), as for the actual vista itself. Perhaps the vista became hard to reach, but the state of mind is still very much accessible.
If you are interested, a good place to start would be the book "Mastering the Core Teachings of the Buddha", by Daniel Ingram. It's available for free online at: https://www.integrateddaniel.info/book
I get it. I read somewhere that hope is not an emotion it's a state of being where plans are made and actions are taken - here's the full quote, "“...hope is not an emotion; it’s a way of thinking or a cognitive process. Emotions play a supporting role, but hope is really a thought process made up of what Snyder calls a trilogy of goals, pathways, and agency." Brené Brown.
Well, when you lose agency, your pathways are blocked and yours goals are ??? then it's a bit shit. Me and my contemporaries are all in our 70s and are to varying degrees experiencing the slow motion version of your accident. Be good if you can keep writing. It seems vacuous to send good wishes - Is it ok to send you some love anyway?
I think it’s perhaps just to SOON? That huge losses need a good deal of readjustment and sorrow, of mourning? That gradually your feelings will change? Perhaps? Because it IS a massive loss.
Paul, I feel your despair acutely, and trust it has changed in these few days since you posted. Hope is vital for me, but of a different kind. Hope of acceptance. You are a young man, and it must be so hard. There will always be people worse off, but that isn’t much help when you are low. I was young too, 41 when a brain stem stroke hit. Initially blinking was all that worked. I had three young children as well as myself to relearn for. It took years. Twenty-six of them later the kids have grown up and have their own lives. I’m alone now and sometimes its hard, but life never stands still. Like one of the comments said there’s only one day at a time. There have been and will be challenges that need constant acceptance. I’m beyond seeing my verbal and physical disabilities (although I hate hearing myself). Looking back, I can truthfully say life has been good to me. Early on I made a promise in hospital to live life to the full despite everything. When things get rough, thinking hard about all that I have as opposed to all I have lost, lights a candle of hope in the dark.
This blog reminds me how I felt on the day my 44 year old husband died suddenly of a heart attack. Don't want it, didn't sign up for it. Changed EVERYTHING, hated that. Broke my heart. The grief was so strong that it was like I was on a tiny hill surrounded by water. Cold water, my least favorite thing, and I had to cross it to get back with the living and enjoy life. After spending months in a place so dark that I was even sick of my shit I jumped in and started to swim for the other shore. The cold and struggle took me under, of course I fought it but then I couldn't anymore. I gave in drifted deep past the candy loam to the rock bottom. Hitting bedrock gave me something to push off from and break the surface. When I did I had crossed the pond to the shore of living. I wish I could add that I rode off into the sunset and found my next person, almost did but thankfully didn't. But I did find me by leaning into whatever my current feeling is and it saves me. Meditation and hypnosis does too. Holding a healing space that you'll find what you want and need for peace.
Hi, just read your article in the guardian. I need a sharp belligerent mind to volunteer to help me try to improve the charity set up in Ukraine. The Russians killed Alex who was helping me. There is purpose here if you want it, cheers.
I climb, I used to climb a lot, 7 days a week. A guy said I climbed, because I was addicted to the Now, and advised me to read a book, The Power of Now, basically, there is only, and can only ever be Now. The past is gone, and the future may never arrive. If you can cope with Now, that's enough.
I still climb, and enjoy it, but much much less, but do not need it.
So, possibly try the book, and use your phenomenal intellect to live in the Now.
I have never thought of hope as not being a good thing but after reading your newsletter, it makes me stop & wonder what I would feel if in your "shoes". I'm sure I would feel the want to die. Noone should be made to endure what you have to live through. I have always believed in the right to euthanasia, I know a lot of people don't but maybe someday we will be able to legally make that decision fir ourselves. I look forward to your newsletter, always thought provoking.
This morning, I blew £160 on a replacement filling. Afterwards, I walked four miles back home feeling pretty buoyant, despite my bank account having been holed a few inches above the waterline. I may be poorer, but I also no longer have what felt like the Chicxulub Crater embedded in one of my lower molars. Possibly I have embraced some of Adam Smith's philosophy of acceptance.
My grandfather worked for Shell for most of his life. Through his association with the company, he met the war hero Douglas Bader, who also worked in the oil business. Decades prior to this, in 1931, Bader lost both legs in an air crash. He described the accident as follows: “Crashed. Slow-rolled near the ground. Bad show”. Despite his injuries, he rejoined the RAF in World War II and achieved several aerial victories prior to being shot down and captured by the Germans, from whom he eventually escaped; an extraordinary achievement for a man with no legs. After being recaptured, he was interred in Colditz until the end of the war.
In WWI, over 41,000 British servicemen lost one or more of their limbs. I do not wish to discount the trauma that an injury of this nature can wreak upon the psyche. That being said, these men would have been able to observe others with similar injuries who had recovered and who were able to get around despite their handicap and lead relatively normal lives, and in some cases extraordinary lives. There was a body of reliable evidence upon which a recent amputee could establish his hope for a better future.
In the case of Joanna of Castile, there is no such evidence. There is what amounts to a ghost story. There would have been incidences of people returning to life as a result of being incorrectly identified as dead. That is understandable. I have seen people die. When they go slowly, sometimes it is hard to tell exactly when it happened. However, even in Joanna's time, there would have been abundant evidence that in the majority of cases, dead was dead. The spark of life is absent. They put you in the ground where you eventually rejoin the Scrabble tile bag of elements that were formed during and after the big bang. There was never any real basis for her to hope.
When I was diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, I read as many of the medical journal articles as I could lay my hands on. In blank prose, that will at most rise to adjectives such as 'regrettable' and 'unfortunate', I learned what I could realistically expect, along with the best that I reasonably could hope for. I also made friends who had been diagnosed around the same time that I had been given my diagnosis. I was able to measure my experiences against their own. Occasionally the discussion would turn towards medical research currently underway, or bespoke treatment. Some people would get quite evangelical about this. The way I thought about, and still do, is to frame this research and these drugs as something that will benefit the next generation of sufferers. You can help them by participating in studies that will advance these new treatments. You can build hope, though you might not be the recipient if or when it bears fruit.
Now all of the friends are dead. All the journals tell me is that I have beaten the odds in terms of survivability, though not the disease which is unbeatable. By remaining hopeful, but moderating those hopes in accordance with hard evidence, I think I have achieved a balance between acceptance of the way things are today, and guarded optimism that things might be better in the future. I am grateful for the present, where I can walk along Southend seafront on a sunny morning in Autumn, and see the geese bobbing at the tideline, and rub my tongue up against my mended tooth.
In terms of the big far-flung hopes that are entertained by the likes of Joanna of Castile, my advice would be to allow others to dream them on your behalf. All over the world there are people researching the various technologies that might restore movement to individuals like yourself. Many of these dreams will remain just that – they were too far-fetched or they were ahead of their time. However, there remains a possibility that one day a new technology that began as the glimmer of a hope, nurtured by some venture capital, might be brought to you as an emergent reality backed by empirical data.
Paul, this reminds me of the prayer adopted by AA “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” These words offer comfort to some but each has their own life circumstances. I really do empathise with your situation. My brother in law passed away a few days ago. He had been suffering from Parkinson’s disease for several years but, prior to this, he was an avid sportsman, spent all his days, active, outdoors. He found this illness unbearable and at the end as he lost all control of his body. He was always strong and determined, always in control. and so, no longer wanting to live he no longer ate and declined rapidly. The family hired a private nurse to administer IV and care as (being in Lebanon) they feared the hospital would be bombed, but he saw no hope at all, and as my Irish family would say, he gave up the ghost. He was a strong man in every way so we could all see how difficult this illness was for him and the toll it took on him but with his death, which we can acknowledge as a release for him, his loss has been felt very deeply, and his physical presence leaves a big hole. However he had lived a long life, over 75 years of being fully active and healthy before deteriorating dying at age 84.
Please forgive me if I sound patronising, as I fear anything I may say might come across that way as I’m not in
your situation, I am not living it, but as someone else has said, this has been a short time to adjust, to accept this major life change and Paul, to be honest, I actually think you are doing incredibly well, back teaching, writing, you mentioned you had attended a wedding in one of your posts. I think you are courageous and a brave young man.
I can recommend an allegorical children’s book that is quite sophisticated on the danger of hope. The Homeward Bounders by Diana Wynne Jones. I’ve always adored her books. That one I’ve always found quite poignant. She’s the best fantasy writer. If you can cope with reading books. The good thing about children’s books is they are quite short, and absorbing.
I first came across your blog as one of your old professors came into the shop that I work in, we got chatting about climbing and the outdoors (I work in an outdoor clothes retail shop) which led him onto telling me about you and your situation, I was instantly intrigued.
Although I cannot recall the name of your professor he spoke highly of you explaining that you are immensely clever and “a genius”, he explained how by the age of 18 you where helping him run lectures and that your future was very bright.
After our interaction in the shop I dived into your blogs, impressed by your writing style and it confirmed to me that his opinions on you where true.
As a 20 year old man reading about your experiences it has aided in taking nothing for granted and that even though times may be tough perseverance and mindset is the key.
You’re doing amazing and we’re all here supporting you day by day.
‘L’espoir, au contraire de ce qu’on croit, équivaut à la résignation. Et vivre, ce n’est pas se résigner.’
Contrary to what people believe, hope amounts to resignation. And to live is not to give into resignation. Albert Camus Noces.
‘Tout le malheur des hommes vient de l’espérance.’ Camus. L’été à Alger Summer in Algiers. Lyrical and critical essays.
Dear Paul
As someone with Parkinson's disease and Functional Neurological disorder, l agree with you: 'hope' sucks! In the beginning when l was newly diagnosed (4 years ago) l scoured the Internet for articles on new treatments. I studied medical reports, watched countless videos. But no longer. It depressed me to think that there's nothing imminent in the pipeline. No cure or better treatment. Hope hurts!!
You're spot on regarding acceptance. I've discovered it's the only way forward for me. I want to be happy and it's only by telling myself that 'this is it' that l can accept my path with positivity, curiosity even. Much love ❤️
I think this post is brilliant. Thank you for sharing it. If you are seeking more peer-reviewed publications, it could be a candidate. (Perhaps *Bellevue Literary Journal*, or a Canadian one called *Ars Medica*, or *Journal of Medical Humanities*?)
What you wrote about Smith, enough time, and mental tranquillity is heartening.
Hi Paul,
Saw your article on the Guardian, and I thought I would make a suggestion. You might feel tempted to take it as proselytism, but please don't: it's just a suggestion.
Since the outer world seems to have become out of reach, at least for now, pending advances in spinal injury treatment, I suggest that you explore your inner world. I understand that it may sound like a dumb suggestion, to compare the vast and expansive beauty of the mountains, with whatever happens when we close our eyes and look inwards. And perhaps it is a bit dumb, the mountains are really beautiful, but I think it is less dumb than it seems at first, to someone who has never done inner exploration. So let me try to pitch it to you briefly.
People have been interested in inner exploration for a long time, I believe that there are at least 2500 years of recorded history, but it probably goes further back. It has been popularized to some extend with LSD in the 60s. People interested in exploring this inner space used to call themselves psychonauts, a term I like quite a lot because it makes one feel a bit like an astronaut, but costs less money.
The premise is this: there exists an inner world to explore, it is vast and varied and interesting. It can blow your mind. Among the various experiences that one can have are:
* Breaking down subjective experience to its most atomic elements, seeing that all subjective experience is formed out of tiny vibrations that coalesce together to form the various objects we experience.
* Realizing that concepts are just a particular layer of experience, and that 99% of all experience is non-conceptual. Becoming familiar with that 99%.
* Entering various altered states of consciousness, chief among which are the 8th jhanas of buddhist practice. Each jhana is a layer of the mind, and you learn to become focused on that particular layer. Some of these layers are quite weird and fun, like the 5th jhana of infinite space, the 6th jhana of infinite consciousness, the 7th jhana of emptyness, and the 8th jhana of neither perception nor non-perception.
* Going through all kinds of psychedelic experiences, such as multicolored space-filling mandalas and lucid dreaming.
* Weird paranormal experiences like talking to spirits, ghosts, and other entities. I am told one can definitely have these experiences, and have them be interesting and informative, without necessarily believing that we are seeing actual ghosts, e.g. by taking the perspective that they are vivid manifestation of subconscious forces.
* Have a lot of pleasure, as several of the known practices are designed to produce a pleasant abiding.
* Finding a layer of perception which is completely free from turmoil and angst. Experiencing reality without a sense of time, as in, it's always now and there are no thoughts of past or future.
I consider myself a psychonaut, but definitely did not experience all of the above. I'm not sure any of this appeals to you. But I do know one thing: it is possible to do this kind of inner exploration with the same bold, determined, adventuring spirit with which you once climbed mountains.
And having myself done both, I can tell you from experience that it is possible to transform one's perception so that it is so vast, sharp, and clear, to the point that looking at a placid scene in the neighborhood park is as intense and rewarding as a vista from the highest mountain used to be, a few years ago. In truth, I suspect you liked to climb mountains as much for the state of mind the vista would put you in (vast, expansive, all-inclusive, peaceful), as for the actual vista itself. Perhaps the vista became hard to reach, but the state of mind is still very much accessible.
If you are interested, a good place to start would be the book "Mastering the Core Teachings of the Buddha", by Daniel Ingram. It's available for free online at: https://www.integrateddaniel.info/book
Wishing you well,
Bruno
I get it. I read somewhere that hope is not an emotion it's a state of being where plans are made and actions are taken - here's the full quote, "“...hope is not an emotion; it’s a way of thinking or a cognitive process. Emotions play a supporting role, but hope is really a thought process made up of what Snyder calls a trilogy of goals, pathways, and agency." Brené Brown.
Well, when you lose agency, your pathways are blocked and yours goals are ??? then it's a bit shit. Me and my contemporaries are all in our 70s and are to varying degrees experiencing the slow motion version of your accident. Be good if you can keep writing. It seems vacuous to send good wishes - Is it ok to send you some love anyway?
I think it’s perhaps just to SOON? That huge losses need a good deal of readjustment and sorrow, of mourning? That gradually your feelings will change? Perhaps? Because it IS a massive loss.
Paul, I feel your despair acutely, and trust it has changed in these few days since you posted. Hope is vital for me, but of a different kind. Hope of acceptance. You are a young man, and it must be so hard. There will always be people worse off, but that isn’t much help when you are low. I was young too, 41 when a brain stem stroke hit. Initially blinking was all that worked. I had three young children as well as myself to relearn for. It took years. Twenty-six of them later the kids have grown up and have their own lives. I’m alone now and sometimes its hard, but life never stands still. Like one of the comments said there’s only one day at a time. There have been and will be challenges that need constant acceptance. I’m beyond seeing my verbal and physical disabilities (although I hate hearing myself). Looking back, I can truthfully say life has been good to me. Early on I made a promise in hospital to live life to the full despite everything. When things get rough, thinking hard about all that I have as opposed to all I have lost, lights a candle of hope in the dark.
This blog reminds me how I felt on the day my 44 year old husband died suddenly of a heart attack. Don't want it, didn't sign up for it. Changed EVERYTHING, hated that. Broke my heart. The grief was so strong that it was like I was on a tiny hill surrounded by water. Cold water, my least favorite thing, and I had to cross it to get back with the living and enjoy life. After spending months in a place so dark that I was even sick of my shit I jumped in and started to swim for the other shore. The cold and struggle took me under, of course I fought it but then I couldn't anymore. I gave in drifted deep past the candy loam to the rock bottom. Hitting bedrock gave me something to push off from and break the surface. When I did I had crossed the pond to the shore of living. I wish I could add that I rode off into the sunset and found my next person, almost did but thankfully didn't. But I did find me by leaning into whatever my current feeling is and it saves me. Meditation and hypnosis does too. Holding a healing space that you'll find what you want and need for peace.
Hi, just read your article in the guardian. I need a sharp belligerent mind to volunteer to help me try to improve the charity set up in Ukraine. The Russians killed Alex who was helping me. There is purpose here if you want it, cheers.
I climb, I used to climb a lot, 7 days a week. A guy said I climbed, because I was addicted to the Now, and advised me to read a book, The Power of Now, basically, there is only, and can only ever be Now. The past is gone, and the future may never arrive. If you can cope with Now, that's enough.
I still climb, and enjoy it, but much much less, but do not need it.
So, possibly try the book, and use your phenomenal intellect to live in the Now.
Good luck.
I have never thought of hope as not being a good thing but after reading your newsletter, it makes me stop & wonder what I would feel if in your "shoes". I'm sure I would feel the want to die. Noone should be made to endure what you have to live through. I have always believed in the right to euthanasia, I know a lot of people don't but maybe someday we will be able to legally make that decision fir ourselves. I look forward to your newsletter, always thought provoking.