I’m going to go a bit back now, but I neglected to mention that at some point around November/December in 2017. I lost about 15 kilograms.
I had decided to try vegetarianism and only ate veggie dishes for lunch at work every day. At night, if I was hungry enough, I only ate (mostly raw) veggies. Leading up to this decision, I began avoiding food; I no longer enjoyed eating and avoided it whenever possible. I practised yoga at least 7 hours a week, and as a result, the weight just fell off me. I went from a size 34 to a size 26 in a matter of weeks. Whenever I got hungry, I smoked some weed and chewed on a rusk. However, I wasnt getting everything my body needed; soon my face became gaunt, my eyes sunken, and I began developing sores on my face.
My hair was still a disaster. It grew long on the right side with the incorrect implants now firmly stuck in place. On the left, it was thinning, and my scalp showed. As I’ve said before, I experimented multiple times with either growing it out or shaving it all off.
The picture people were seeing of me was one with straggly, half-bald hair, a gaunt face with sores, and dramatic weight loss.
Not a picture of mental health.
I was good at pretending I was fine, but as soon as the end of the day came, I bolted out the door to get away; my anxiety deeply clawing at my heart.
Fridays always brought me the sense of relief I needed, and over time, I created a small ritual for myself at 5 p.m. My parking was by the Oranjezicht City Farm Market on Granger Bay in the Waterfront. I had a daily walk of about 15 minutes to get from there to the other side of the waterfront. Like a rough diamond, this little parking spot sat almost right on the water, and since I hated the idea of going home, I would walk down to the water, sit on the rocks, smoke a little, and lose myself.
It was always quiet; there was hardly anyone ever there, the water was clear, and the marine life always came around to say hi. It became a meditative experience. It felt as though that spot was made just for me, and every Friday, this was where I would decompress from reality. Caught perfectly between the ecstasy of life and the crushing weight of depression.
At home, I cried at my reflection and eventually just taped my mirrors up; I never wanted to see myself anymore.
2017 had been an extremely challenging year; I had walked through hell barefoot, but it had also been the greatest year of my life. It seemed that it was either the year in which I would commit suicide or undergo a great transmutation. Fortunately, the latter proved correct.
As 2018 approached, I was excited and hopeful about what the new year might bring.
I was still studying like a demon, and in the late autumn and early summer months of 2017/2018, I had begun to dip more into the Cape Town spiritual community.
One of my earliest events was at a breathwork facilitation, where a lady sat down about a meter in front of me and took off her top, exposing her breasts. We were all supposed to have our eyes closed anyway, so I tightly closed my eyes and turned away. I had no idea if she was downright flirting with me or just being airy and spiritual. Due to my isolation, it was the first time I had seen a woman’s exposed breasts in about 2 years. I quickly realised I was in a whole new world.
Like so many people who endure a spiritual awakening, I thought it was my destiny to become a shaman. With that conviction, I signed up for a course I believed would open the door to sacred plant medicine and a deeper understanding. The illusion didn’t last long. What I’d hoped would be a gateway into wisdom turned out to be nothing more than a scam, led by someone who spoke for hours without actually saying anything, except reminding us to hand over more money.
Regardless, I probed further and went to hot rock saunas, and did more dance sessions around The Cape. I attended a session where we created our own drums using goat skin. I went to every spiritual store I could find. I did various plant medicines as well, but I’ll write more about these later. For now, what amazed me at these events was how little everyone seemed to know, or care, about spirituality.
I arrived at all of these events oozing with information, with everything from quantum mechanics to occult esoterism. Yet many people seemed borderline asleep to everything. They didn’t seem to care and didn’t want to discuss these reality-bending subjects. They just kinda wanted to breathe, or sweat, or dance, or cry in a corner.
Everyone has their own healing to do.
I never made many friends; I honestly expected my tribe to form. They never did.
A horrible realisation occurred to me: that even among the wild ones of the Cape Town spiritual community, I still felt like an outsider.
….
2018 was supposed to be my year; I was so excited for it. I had huge expectations of healing, forming genuine friendships, exploring Cape Town, and sitting on the beach watching the sunset with my future wife.
Not much of that ever materialised.
The year had barely begun, and I quickly felt isolated again.
To some extent, I was an outsider because when I did get the chance to talk to people, it became clear I knew far more than they did. Most people only had a base-level understanding of spiritual things. On the other hand, it’s also likely they were more grounded, integrated, and more whole than I was.
Regardless, as it turned out, 2018 wasn’t about me meeting people; it was about me meeting myself.
Michael's musings 