The Metal Season of Discernment: Refining Our Choices in Autumn
As we move out of summer and into autumn in the Southern Hemisphere, the air shifts, and so does the energy around us. Summer, with its fiery abundance, has been a time of growth and expansion—the Fire element in full bloom, radiating warmth and vitality. Now, as the leaves begin to fall, we enter the season of the Metal element. Metal cuts, refines, and clarifies, stripping away what no longer serves to reveal what is essential. It’s a fitting time to reflect on discernment, a quality that mirrors Metal’s precision in helping us carve out a life of true value.
Discernment vs. Discrimination
Discernment and discrimination are often confused, but they lead us down very different paths. Discrimination, at its core, is a negative trait—a rigid prejudice that clashes with the natural flow of life, often rooted in fear or bias. Discernment, on the other hand, is the heart’s quiet wisdom. It’s the choice to invest your energy in spaces and relationships that are truly profitable—not in a monetary sense, but in terms of health, longevity, and evolutionary potential. Discernment means stepping away from people or situations that drain you, not out of judgment, but out of self-preservation. This isn’t about abandoning a partner after a rough day—that calls for a conversation—but about recognizing when individuals or cultures are more aligned with entropy than with positive creativity. Sometimes, this misalignment is temporary, and discernment helps us navigate that nuance.
The Struggle with Discernment in Spiritual Communities
Learning discernment has been a deeply personal and challenging journey for me, especially in so-called “spiritual communities.” I’ve witnessed a disconnect between words and actions—people preaching love and unity while their behavior reveals something else entirely. These spaces often attract individuals with deep trauma, seeking healing and belonging. While the intention to create a safe haven is noble, an open-border policy can degrade the community’s quality, undoing the hard work of those who built it with genuine hearts. It’s a dynamic I’ve seen mirror the rise of a communist movement: an ideal of equality that, without boundaries, erodes the very foundation it stands on.
My struggle with discernment likely stems from my upbringing in a stable, loving family. I never doubted my family’s best intentions for me—both my immediate and extended family, rooted in Christian faith, were trustworthy and kind. This gave me a solid foundation but left me unprepared for the wider world beyond my “Hobbit town.” I grew up with a naturally watery nature, as I like to call it—flowing and adaptable, but without disciplined boundaries, I’d spill over into a puddle, my energy evaporating. When I began training in the spiritual arts, I leaned into the idea that “God loves all,” assuming I should accept and engage with everyone. This mindset, while well-intentioned, led me to poor health. I couldn’t stand up for myself, leaving me vulnerable to being taken advantage of. Beneath the surface, anger and depression festered from my lack of agency, and I’m certain this bred pathological behaviour in me.
Also, the flip side was experiencing others’ discernment toward me. It hurt deeply to be on the receiving end, but in hindsight, it was profoundly productive for my growth. It forced me to confront my own patterns and evolve.
Building a Life of Truth and Connection
The lesson I’ve come to embrace is this: fill your house with truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. Tune into your body’s signals—the sensations that arise as situations unfold. Look beyond people’s words to their actions, because actions reveal the heart’s true alignment.
Discernment is harder than ever in today’s complex world. Faith in institutions is at an all-time low, and loneliness is rising. Yet, the more refined our discernment becomes, the more “profitable” our existence is. When we align with what truly resonates with our core, we feel more connected—not just to others, but to our true selves. This authenticity allows others of a similar vibration to see us clearly, fostering deeper, more stable unions. In Traditional Chinese Medicine, this stability is tied to Earth qualities—groundedness and balance.
The Path Forward
Discernment isn’t about closing off or judging—it’s about choosing wisely where to invest your energy. It’s a skill that requires practice, especially in a world that’s increasingly noisy and disconnected. By listening to our bodies, grounding ourselves in truth, and observing actions over words, we can cultivate a life that’s not just profitable, but deeply fulfilling. In this season of Metal, as nature refines itself, let’s do the same—cutting away what no longer serves to create space for genuine connection, stability, and growth.
The Bittersweet Symphony of Life: Exploring the Happy-Sad Duality
At Zenwave (www.zenwave.com.au), we often talk about riding the waves of life—those undulating rhythms of highs and lows that carve out who we are. This morning, a song I hadn’t heard before caught me: "Buzzin’ Fly" by Tim Buckley. Charged with soul, it had me clicking my fingers to the soaring lyrics. When I peeked at the album title, there it was—"Happy Sad." Wow. That phrase lit a spark, igniting a reflection on the bittersweet nature of emotions and unveiling a profound truth. Happiness and sadness aren’t at odds—they’re two sides of the same coin, threads woven tight in the fabric of feeling. Sadness doesn’t oppose happiness; it deepens it. The real opposite? Nothingness. This dance of emotions, this interplay of light and shadow, reflects the intricate patterns of existence, quietly nodding to ancient cycles—like those of the Chinese Five Elements—where balance fuels growth.
The Dance of Happiness and Sadness
Think of the moments that linger in your soul—the best songs, the deepest realisations about love, the quiet epiphanies that shift your perspective. They often spring from a well of sadness, a refining force that sharpens our awareness. Happiness, radiant and warm, lifts us, but it’s the sting of sorrow that polishes us into greater beings. Artists—rock and rollers, poets, those who thrive on the edge—know this instinctively. They chase the pulse of feeling, the raw energy of being alive. Yet, that hunger can tip into excess—drug abuse, reckless abandon—a desperate bid to escape the void and reclaim the bittersweet edge.
We are all patterns, born from a primordial cosmic potential. Simple patterns layer into complexity, grouping and compounding through creative action. One of our greatest acts as humans is to weave our pattern with another’s, creating a new human life—a dance of complementary designs. Genetic codes merge, cells within cells interlink, forming a being of ultimate complexity. But this isn’t just a mix of physical ingredients or binary DNA symbols. Like the 26 letters of the alphabet arranged into a Shakespearean sonnet, these are tools—vital, yet mere vessels for a deeper creative force. The best artists see beyond the symbols, conveying meaning that transcends, driven by an urge to enhance the profitability of existence, to evolve toward greater understanding.
The Void of Nothingness
If happiness lifts and sadness cuts, nothingness is the absence of both—a numb, treacle-thick fog. Depression isn’t the sharp ache of hurt, the fire of anger, or the restless push of jealousy—those are forces of action, urging us forward. Depression is inaction, a stillness that disconnects us from life’s rhythm. Yet, those who’ve faced the ultimate abyss of nothingness—a brush with mortality—often return transformed. Their suffering deepens their zest, their patterns refined by adversity, proving that complexity grows through challenge.
This drive to improve—to complexify our patterns—is self-evident. Without it, we’d lie in bed until we faded away. Self-improvement mirrors system improvement, cells within cells interlinked, constrained yet thriving within the external framework. It’s a quiet nod to nature’s rhythms, where every element plays its part.
A World Caught in Symbols
Yet, we live in a world tangled in symbols—cells copied from cells, patterns repeating with little new to say. Soul gets lost to greed. Ask me about a Taylor Swift song, and I’d stare blankly. Beyoncé? To me, they’re profit-engineered constructs, mimicking something like soul but offering nothing novel. They’re echoes of what’s been said before, stitched with catchy hooks, polished in marketing meetings by account executives, then packaged and shipped en masse. The execs pocket the cash, the "artist" gets dropped, and the next one steps up as the cycle spins again. The pop star? Forgotten, cast into the wilderness. It’s a machine that churns out copies, not creators—leaving us starved for the real, the raw, the soulful.
Alan Watts, the British-American philosopher (1915 to 1973) saw this trap from a mile away. He cleverly dubbed himself a "spiritual entertainer" instead of a guru, dodging the suffocating weight of symbolic labels. He knew that getting snared in them could turn your life into a stale rerun, stripped of novelty. By playing the entertainer, he kept the world at arm’s length—no one takes you too seriously, leaving room to weave through the madness. Comedians get this too. For great artists, though, it’s a cruel twist: a song that lights you up today might dim by the 500th play. We’re built to crave complexity, to hunt for richer states of being. What’s new gets mimicked, rides a wave of hype, then wears thin—crying out for reinvention. But a symbolic label? It boxes you in, turns you into a commodity—a shiny product, a hollow emblem for others. You’re trapped in a warped fog where everyone seems off-kilter, and your growth stalls. Time and again, we’ve watched artists— even the brightest, like Jimi Hendrix, gone by 27—tumble into that abyss after the spotlight flares too hot. Tim Buckley too unfortunately, dead at 28.
The Spiritual Trap of Bliss
In spiritual and religious circles, there’s often a pull to "bliss out"—to cling to happiness and glide past life’s rougher edges. Some fixate on the beauty of crystals, sunsets, or endless affirmations, as if these markers alone hold the key to depth. It’s an easy slip—I’ve certainly fallen for it. But it’s a trap where the worship of symbols can overshadow the bigger picture, losing the forest for the trees. Chasing perpetual light risks thinning the pattern, skimming over the richness that sadness, struggle, and stillness can offer. Soul doesn’t thrive in endless savasana, basking in bliss forever. It grows through cultivating awareness—stillness that’s awake, movement that’s conscious—not caught up in how the posture should look, but alive to what you’re truly feeling in the moment. We don’t need to chase hardship—good times are a gift—but they’re not the destination; they’re stepping stones. They invite us to evolve, to weave deeper layers of understanding and purpose.
Embracing the Full Spectrum
At Zenwave, we see life as a symphony of patterns—not just happiness or sadness, but the vibrant dance between them. This echoes one of the core principles of Zenthai Shiatsu: "Explore Limits." It’s about tapping into the creative potential of the body through a mindful process we call LSD—Long, Slow, Deep. In our bodywork sessions, we seek to unlock creativity, because it’s at the edges, the limits, where new possibilities emerge. But we’re not here to rock and roll into chaos or destruction. Instead, LSD guides us—long, slow, deep—encouraging a mindful exploration that keeps us dynamic. The key? Never stagnating in old patterns. We’re always creating—new cells, new pathways—pushing gently toward growth. To feel is to live, to hurt is to stretch and evolve, and to embrace both is to weave a tapestry richer than either could craft alone. Your unique pattern—loves, losses, lessons—doesn’t just shape you; it ripples outward, enriching the whole. Why? Perhaps it’s our innate pull to deepen existence, aligning with an evolutionary current toward greater awareness, subtly reflecting the balanced interplay of ancient wisdom.
So, when a happy-sad moment catches you—tears sparked by a memory, a smile breaking through grief—don’t shy away. Lean into it. That’s where your pattern finds its depth, where life’s rhythm pulses strongest.
Explore more at www.zenwave.com.au, where we reflect on navigating the waves of being, inspired by the intricate dance of existence.
The Challenge of Authenticity: Navigating Conformity, Evolution, and Truth in a Rapidly Changing World
In the fleeting window of consciousness granted to us within our human avatars, the pursuit of authenticity emerges as both a profound challenge and a sacred calling. It’s a journey fraught with tension—between the pressure to conform and the wild, untamed impulse to break free; between the preservation of community power and the need to burn away outdated social structures that stifle evolutionary growth. At its core, authenticity is about aligning with what is divine, what is true, and what fuels the will to live and create. Yet, in a world shaped by cultural, familial, and economic forces, this alignment is no simple feat.
The Weight of Conformity and the Call of the Wild Shaman
From birth, we are molded by expectations—cultural norms that dictate how we should behave, familial traditions that tether us to the past, and economic systems that demand we fit into predefined roles. These forces create a gravitational pull toward conformity, a pressure to become predictable units of community power. There’s a comfort in this belonging, a stability that ensures survival. But survival is not the same as thriving. Evolution demands disruption, and within every tribe, there must be a wild shaman—a bearer of Shiva’s transformative energy—ready to dismantle the old branches that no longer serve the collective’s growth. This tension is eternal: the need for cohesion balanced against the necessity of renewal.
Today, we stand at a crossroads where the rise of agency and decentralized power is redefining this dynamic. Technologies like blockchain, which solve the Byzantine double-spend problem without reliance on corruptible third-party verifiers, hint at a future of self-governing economies rooted in truth rather than greed. Access to unbound information accelerates at an exponential rate, shattering the gatekeepers of knowledge and empowering individuals to question dogma in all its forms—be it religious, capitalist, or environmentalist. The zeitgeist agrees: fundamental outlooks are shifting.
The Double-Edged Sword of Industrialisation
This shift comes as we transition from the rapid industrial expansion of the past, that was driven by demographics and warring desires, into an uncertain future. The Industrial Revolution freed us from survival uncertainty, yet it gave the drudgery of linear, mechanistic labor; the rise of the “working class’. Bells in schools to begin training for the industrial factory dynamic. But the benefits of the system also allowed more lateral-thinking, autonomous beings. It delivered wonders—time-saving tools, infrastructure, and an unprecedented efficiency of energy in to energy out. Yet, it’s a double-edged sword. The environmental toll is undeniable, and its origins in war machinery cast a shadow over its idealism. Critics decry capitalism as the root of our demise, pointing to a depression-esque malaise or the despair of hardcore environmentalists who see only entropy ahead.
But there’s a more humanistic view: the recognition that these resources, born of innovation, are tools we can wield for evolution rather than destruction. The ultimate source of energy isn’t coal or oil—it’s love. Love is the opposite of entropy, the force that drives us to live consciously and create rather than decay. When industrial systems deviate from truth through corruption, entropy creeps in, threatening the towering Babel of our civilization. Authenticity, then, becomes the antidote—a return to fundamental truth that keeps us aligned with love’s creative power.
Authenticity in a Healing Arts Business: The ZenWave Journey
For those in the healing arts, like my own business ZenWave (https://www.zenwave.com.au/), this challenge takes on a deeply personal dimension. Zenthai shiatsu, a practice rooted in mindfulness and energy exchange, demands authenticity—not just in technique, but in spirit. Yet, the realities of earning a living in a world of corrupted currency systems can tempt even the most earnest practitioner toward spiritual narcissism. There’s a paradox here: the need for an energy exchange is real—money is just one imperfect form of it—but the inward journey can unearth such wondrous wealth and love that staying silent about it feels impossible. The risk is detachment, preaching from a mountaintop while the rest of the world trudges through a different reality.
The Bodhisattva’s path offers a subtler approach: keeping the embers of truth burning without ego-driven effort, staying connected to the “normal” world while inspiring a community. Like growing a garden, it’s about nourishing with the right balance of information and universal energy—not forcing growth, but fostering it. Gandhi exemplified this in his non-violent protests, becoming an iconic figure in India not through force, but through truth. India, a cradle of spiritual nourishment, has long been a battleground for this struggle—its wisdom ravaged by colonial greed from industrial powers like Britain and China, yet resilient in its essence. Gandhi’s legacy reminds us of our underestimated impact on a local scale, urging us not to give up too easily.
The Inward Journey and the Trap of Samskara
Yet, we must avoid hero worship. The goal isn’t to idolise Gandhi or anyone else—it’s to undertake our own inward journey, to become a nucleus of truth within the framework of our unique conscious avatars. Too often, we overlook this steady forward path, distracted by exhausting side quests, or giving up because of a sense of unworthiness. These detours—sometimes adventures, sometimes mistakes—are vital for growth, but the irony lies in not trying at all, or in repeating patterns reinforced by culture. In yoga, this is samskara: ingrained behaviors whose grooves deepen over time, flanked by cliffs of despair that obscure the horizon. We become trapped in narrow valleys, blind to the broader landscape.
Our truest friends are the ones who kick truth in our arse, pointing out our blindspots with an earthy, grounding presence—the people we’d call from a prison in a third-world country. They counter the allure of shortcuts to blissful states, whether through substances or dopamine-ticking distractions like fast food for the soul. As Thich Nhat Hanh said, “How you do one thing is how you do everything.” Inauthentic quick fixes leave our inner lake dry, unable to nourish the garden within.
ZenWave: Cultivating Authenticity in a Changing
At ZenWave, we strive to embody this truth. Our practice isn’t just about physical touch—it’s about fostering a space where authenticity can flourish, where the energy exchange honors both giver and receiver. The challenge is real: balancing the need to sustain a business with the purity of intent, resisting the pull of spiritual narcissism, and staying tethered to the community we serve. But like Gandhi’s subtle embers or a well-tended garden, we aim to inspire a landscape of healing and growth—not through ego, but through alignment with the universe’s fundamental energies.
In this era of unfettered information and exponential change, authenticity is our compass. It navigates us through the pressures of conformity, the temptations of entropy, and the promise of evolution. It’s the will to live consciously, to choose tools of love over weapons of war, and to innovate from a place of truth. The mistake isn’t in failing—it’s in not trying, in not learning, in not daring to burn away the old branches to make way for divine potential.
Discovering the Chinese Five Elements: A Journey Through Nature, Healing, and Self
Discovering the Chinese Five Elements: A Journey Through Nature, Healing, and Self
Imagine your body as a little universe, humming along to the rhythms of nature—like the seasons changing or the tides rolling in and out. That’s the heart of Chinese Five Element Theory, an ancient idea from China that says everything (yes, even you!) is connected through five basic elements: Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. Think of them as nature’s building blocks, each with its own personality and role in keeping things balanced. Today, I’ll explore where this idea came from, how it’s been twisted over time (looking at you, Chinese Communist Party), and how it powers a modern healing art called Zenthai Shiatsu. Along the way, we’ll see how it weaves together with other traditions like Thai medicine and Ayurveda, all pointing to one big truth: living in sync with the natural flow—the Dao—is where the magic happens.
The Origins: A Simple Idea from Ancient China
Picture this: thousands of years ago, Chinese sages are sitting under the stars, watching the world turn. They notice patterns—spring bursts with new growth (Wood), summer blazes with heat (Fire), late summer settles into calm (Earth), autumn sharpens and refines (Metal), and winter pulls everything inward (Water). These weren’t just random observations; they became a way to explain how life works, from the seasons to your emotions. This wasn’t some dusty textbook theory—it was practical wisdom, born from living close to the land.
By the Han Dynasty (around 200 BCE), this Five Element Theory got formal. It said each element feeds the next (Wood fuels Fire, Fire creates Earth, and so on) but also keeps another in check (Water douses Fire, Metal chops Wood). It’s like a cosmic dance, and it didn’t just apply to nature—it was about your body too. Feeling angry? That’s your Wood element acting up, tied to your liver. Exhausted? Maybe your Earth element (think stomach) needs some love. Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) grew from this, using herbs, acupuncture, and massage to balance these energies, or “qi,” flowing through you.
The Twist: Communism’s Takeover
Fast forward to the 20th century, and things get messy. When the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) took over, they saw old traditions like TCM as “backward” and unscientific. They wanted a shiny, modern China, so they sidelined a lot of the spiritual stuff—like the Dao, the natural flow tying it all together—and cherry-picked what fit their agenda. By the 1950s, they’d remade TCM into a standardized system, stripping out some of its soul to make it a state-approved tool.
Under Xi Jinping, there’s been a flip. He’s called TCM a “gem” and pushed it hard, signing deals with over 70 countries to spread it globally. But here’s the catch: it’s less about the ancient wisdom and more about control. Critics say the CCP’s version skips the rigorous testing of Western medicine, sometimes peddling unproven or even toxic remedies. They’ve even tried to ban criticism of TCM, turning a living tradition into a propaganda prop. The original Five Element Theory—rooted in balance and nature—got overshadowed by a top-down, dogmatic remake. It’s like they took a flowing river and dammed it up for their own power.
Zenthai Shiatsu: Bringing the Elements Back to Life
Now, let’s shift gears to something beautiful: Zenthai Shiatsu, a bodywork therapy that drinks deeply from the Five Elements’ well. Born in Australia by Gwyn Williams, it blends TCM’s energy maps (those meridians where qi flows) with Zen Shiatsu’s precision, Traditional Thai Massage’s stretches, and Osteopathy’s structural know-how. It’s like a greatest-hits album of healing arts, but without the stiff rules that can bog things down.
In TCM, the Five Elements aren’t just ideas—they’re alive in you. Wood is your drive, Fire your joy, Earth your stability, Metal your clarity, and Water your depth. Zenthai taps into this, using touch to listen to what your body’s saying. Maybe your shoulders are tight from stress (Wood out of whack) or your energy’s flat (Earth needs a boost). Unlike a cookie-cutter massage where everyone gets the same rubdown, Zenthai therapists tune in to your unique vibe, offering gestures tailored to you. It’s not about fixing you—it’s about helping you rediscover your natural flow.
The Thai Connection: Sen Lines and the Same Story
Zenthai doesn’t stop at TCM—it nods to Traditional Thai Medicine too, which focuses on “sen lines,” energy pathways similar to meridians. Thai massage stretches and presses these lines to release blockages, much like Zenthai works the meridians. Both traditions sing the same tune: when your energy flows freely, you’re in harmony with the Dao—the effortless way of the universe. Zenthai cherry-picks the best from these worlds, skipping the dogma that can make treatments rigid. It’s less about following a script and more about dancing with what’s present.
Beyond the Massage Parlor: Authenticity Matters
Ever walked into a massage place that feels like a fast-food restaurant? You pick from a menu—30 minutes of this, 60 minutes of that—and get a one-size-fits-all routine. That’s where Zenthai shines. It’s not a “business” churning out predictable sequences; it’s an art that respects your body’s individuality. Every session’s different because every person’s different. The therapist’s hands move like they’re reading a story, sensing where your energy’s stuck or flowing. It’s the opposite of a conveyor-belt massage—it’s real, raw, and responsive.
The Ethereal Meets the Physical: “The Way You Move Is the Way You Feel”
Here’s where it gets cool: Zenthai sees your body and energy as two sides of the same coin. That ache in your back? It might tie to grief (Metal element) or fear (Water). The way you slump or stride isn’t just physical—it’s how you feel playing out. During my nine-month training at Mt Ninderry Healing Centre, we heard this mantra: “Learn the sequence to forget the sequence.” We memorized hundreds of moves—stretches, presses, flows—but the real lesson was to ditch the playbook. Trust your gut. Listen to the person in front of you. Their body’s got a wisdom, a “godhead,” waiting to shine if you let it.
Training: Nine Months of Transformation
That training wasn’t a spa retreat—it was a crucible. Nine months of peeling back old habits, facing our quirks, and growing into something new. Gwyn, our guide, didn’t just teach techniques; he shared his life’s truth, a nucleus of honesty we could root into. It was Earth—solid ground to grow from. As we shed outdated patterns (think Wood’s renewal), we sparked into Fire—our own creative spark. Discipline (Metal) kept us sharp, but we made it art, not a chore. By the end, we weren’t mimicking Gwyn; we were finding our own styles, our own humanity.
Temple Night: Photography in the Deep End
Last night, I was at a Zenthai temple night, camera in hand, shooting my old classmates in action. They’d been out there for years, and it showed—they’d honed their own styles, distinct and sharp. I hadn’t seen some of them in a while, and the shift was clear: they’d grown into it. For me, it was a different grind. I’m no pro photographer—I’m learning, stepping back into beginner mode after “finishing” that nine-month Zenthai program. The room was dark, barely lit, and I was wrestling with low light, fumbling settings, trying to catch the moment (hence the cinematic, black and white, Rembrandt style photos). It was messy, uncomfortable, but it lit a fire. I’m picking up the craft to add it to my Zenthai work—another tool to offer. That night pushed me to study up, practice more.
I flashed back to a guest yoga session at Mt Ninderry Zenthai Centre. Halfway through, I glanced back and saw Gwyn, the Zenthai Shiatsu Centre founder, at the rear scribbling notes like it was day one. That stuck with me—childlike curiosity, no ego. Lose that, and you’re toast. You turn into the retired St. George type—clinging to past wins, rose-tinting the old days like a highlight reel that skips the grind. Or the drunk at the bar, full of regrets, droning on to anyone who’ll listen about the good old days. The Dao doesn’t care about your stories—it’s about what’s happening now.
My Gut: A Long Haul
My gut’s been a warzone—chronic issues, years deep. Moving halfway across the planet to carve out a life didn’t ease it. Heartache, natural disasters, career squeeze—it all ripped the ground out. Earth’s about rooting down, and I was floating. TCM pegs the gut to Earth—when it’s shaky, you’re adrift. Loneliness sank in, that “solo” grind, even with faces around. No footing to plant myself, just drift.
Metal kicked in hard—slicing off the old me, maybe too much. I was sharp but unanchored. Now, it’s shifting. Good mates and community are filtering in, and Zenthai temple nights are part of it. These nights pull a crew of therapists together, treating in an open space—not locked in some solo massage cell. It’s raw, with live music humming through, a shared pulse you can’t get one-on-one. Sure, private sessions have their place, but this is different—Earth in action, a collective anchor. You feel the team, like rooting for a sports crew your whole life. That loyalty, that belonging—it’s grounding. My gut’s purging, settling, as that stability builds. Friends, temple nights, the works—it’s slow, but the roots are taking.
The Bigger Picture: Responsibility and the Dao
Freedom comes with a weight. We live in a world where people dodge accountability like it’s a hot potato, digging into trenches of blame and habit (samskara). Politicians start with noble quests—slaying dragons—but cling to old victories, swinging at ghosts. That’s entropy: fighting the Dao instead of flowing with it. Zenthai’s different. It asks you to let go (Metal’s gift) and face the responsibility of yourself. Frustration, loneliness—even surrounded by people—creeps in when we can’t express our truth. But dive into that pain, like an alcoholic hitting rock bottom, and you find liberation. You become Earth for others, a place to grow (Wood) and shine (Fire).
ZenWave: My Piece of the Puzzle
At ZenWave (www.zenwave.com.au), this is my mission. I offer Zenthai Shiatsu, yoga, and now photography, to help you reconnect with your flow. It’s not about fixing you—it’s about witnessing your unfolding. Whether it’s a session on the mat or a photo capturing your essence, it’s all about rooting into your Earth, growing your Wood, and igniting your Fire. The Five Elements aren’t just theory—they’re a map to living fully, naturally, and true.
So, next time you feel stuck, think of the elements. Maybe your Water’s frozen or your Fire’s dim. Zenthai—and ZenWave—can help you thaw, spark, and flow again. Because when you move with the Dao, you don’t just heal—you flourish.
The Ecology of the Mind: Nurturing Evolution in the Information Age
As an ecologist with a Master’s degree, and a practitioner of mindful arts such as Zenthai Shiatsu, I’ve spent years captivated by the intricate dance of life force systems. Ecology, to me, isn’t just about forests, rivers, or the delicate balance of predator and prey—it’s a fractal principle, repeating itself across scales, from the vastness of ecosystems to the subtle landscapes of our minds. Today, I want to explore the ecology of the mind: a dynamic, living system shaped by internal and external forces, constantly evolving—or, if we’re not mindful, stagnating.
In nature, ecosystems thrive through diversity, challenge, and adaptation. A forest doesn’t grow stronger by staying comfortable; it evolves through storms, fires, and the push-pull of competition and cooperation. The mind, too, is an ecosystem, with thoughts, emotions, and beliefs forming its flora and fauna. Just as external elements like climate or invasive species influence a natural habitat, the information we consume shapes the terrain of our mental ecology. And right now, in the Information Age, that terrain is under unprecedented pressure.
We’re bombarded daily with a deluge of data—headlines, notifications, soundbites, and memes. It’s a flood so relentless that skimming has become a survival tactic. Like a bird pecking at scattered seeds, we sample what’s quick and convenient, leaving the deeper roots of context and nuance untouched. This isn’t just a time-saving habit; it’s a self-imposed limitation on our understanding. We’re trading depth for breadth, mistaking a fleeting glance for true comprehension.
What happens next is a natural ecological response: we seek safety in similarity. We gravitate toward voices that echo our own, forming tight-knit groves of consensus. It feels good—like-minded friends nodding over dinner, “putting the world to rights” with confident certainty. “We really know what’s going on with the government,” we tell ourselves, or “We’ve cracked the code of global problems.” But this is a mirage, an illusion of mastery born from sampling the same shallow pool. In ecology, monocultures are vulnerable; they lack the resilience that comes from diversity. The same is true for the mind. When we surround ourselves with agreement, we starve our mental ecosystem of the tension and challenge it needs to grow.
This is where the Information Age reveals its double-edged sword. The systems delivering our information—social media, news feeds, even casual conversations—are designed for speed, convenience, and entertainment. They’re easy, practical, and seductive. But there’s a hidden danger here: the rise of uninformed noble ideas. We latch onto ideals that feel righteous—saving the planet, fixing society, championing justice—without digging into the messy, complex reality beneath them. Self-righteousness becomes a dangerous ingredient, reinforcing ignorance under the guise of virtue. We convince ourselves we’re enlightened because our intentions are good, but intention without understanding is like planting a seed in barren soil—it withers before it can take root.
Evolution doesn’t thrive on ease or noble illusions. In nature, entropy—the slow drift toward disorder—wins when systems stagnate. The mind’s ecology is no different. When we become passive consumers of information, swallowing pre-digested ideas without wrestling with them, or cloaking ourselves in self-righteous certainty, we invite entropy in. Our capacity for critical thought atrophies, and the vibrant, adaptive landscape of our mind flattens into something dull and predictable.
So how do we shift this trajectory? How do we cultivate an ecology of the mind that drives evolution rather than demise? The answer lies in embracing challenge over comfort and depth over haste. In Zenthai Shiatsu, transformation comes from a long, slow, and deep approach—gently unraveling tension, layer by layer, with patience and presence. The mind requires the same. Ideas and processes are complex, often tangled in webs of cause and effect that defy quick fixes or righteous slogans. We must adopt an attitude of curiosity and humility, willing to sit with discomfort and uncertainty for as long as it takes to truly understand.
Start small: next time you scroll through a headline, pause. Dig into the story beneath it. Find a perspective that clashes with your own and sit with it, not to agree, but to explore. Resist the urge to claim moral superiority or rush to a conclusion. In my practice, I see clients transform when they lean into discomfort rather than resist it. The mind, too, blossoms when we let it grapple with complexity. This is the life force of mental ecology—curiosity, tension, and the courage to process rather than just consume.
We’re not here to solve the world’s problems over a single dinner conversation, nor to crown ourselves saviors with uninformed ideals. True understanding is messy, slow, and ongoing. But by tending to the ecology of our minds with a long, deep, and patient approach, we can evolve into something greater: not just survivors of the Information Age, but architects of a wiser, more vibrant inner world. Let’s nourish that ecosystem with challenge, diversity, and presence—because that’s where the real growth happens.
For more reflections on life force systems and mindful living, join me at ZenWave for Zenthai Shiatsu sessions. Let’s cultivate balance, inside and out.
Tradition
My view of “tradition” was one of staleness. A barrier to progress, it was ignorant people resisting change and prolonging unnecessary conflicts.
And as I moved through the world in later years, I also recognised tradition as the preservation of fire.
While important to burn off the branches that no longer support fresh growth, it’s important not to chop away at the trunk of foundation.
And what a foundation is the beautiful land of Ireland. Lush, green and full of intrigue, there is a genesis quality about it. Landscapes that inspire poets and religious devotees. Stone structures in varying states of decay telling stories about Druids and ancient Irish Kings. The small, isolated seemingly insignificant Little Rock in the Atlantic is cherished by many.
No one seems to have a beef with the Irish. Likeable, friendly, warm and funny, they are welcomed for their desire for a good time…for the“craic” they bring.
It’s joked that its people are its greatest export, of which I am one. It was 5 years since my last visit. 13 years since I saw a golden temperate autumn…a time long enough to generate a sense of novelty. Snakes, sunshine and sand were my “new normal”.
It was also a time long enough to build a hunger to hug familiar shoulders and look into familiar eyes on familiar faces
Some faces have gone since my last visit. Some faces are more wrinkled. And some faces are brand spanking new. I loved seeing them all. More faces will come and more will go. But the fire of tradition will always burn strong. Til next time Ireland
Freedom
I was recently asked the question… “what is freedom to you?”. My reply….”the absence of tension”.
As I sit through another airport wait, tension levels raised from a week of overlong business meetings, I’m reflecting on this question again. The life choices I’ve made in the past and where they have me now. Refining new aims with a view toward brighter horizons.
I know I’m not unique in my attraction to “freedom”. “Stress”, whatever that means, is apparently the new epidemic. Warnings of a “mental health” crises. Economic pyramid schemes collapsing resulting in reductions to living standards. Lies to justify the situation coming from supposed shepherds of our social systems.
Posters in my head office bathroom display numbers to call if I’m feeling blue. Which, I’m sure, adorn many of the fluorescent lit, caffeine fuelled corporate prison cells in cities across the world. I can’t help but feel it’s an oafish attempt at being human. Or at worst a sick joke; bosses with a mocking helping hand extended to employees, while at the same time trampling them with unrealistic demands.
But, in a world of smoke and mirrors I know there are things that can be trusted. The whale breaching above the waves. The turtle popping up for air. The bird scouting the shoreline for food. The rumbling pulse of waves on a beach. The intimacy of a lover under a sparkling night sky.
Trust is surety. It is safety. It’s freedom.
Double Island Point - Cooloola Wilderness Area
Boys and their Toys
It all begins with an idea.
I got hold of my first proper zoom lens yesterday. A 100-400 mm second hand Fuji, which opens up new possibilities for my XT5. I wasted no time in getting to Pincushion Island for a shot I’d eyed up before, but couldn’t quite work with the quiver of lenses at the time. I think it worked pretty well.
However, its a heavy bit of machinery at 1.5 kg’s, which can unbalance the camera a bit; when getting back in the car, it slipped out of the bag and smacked onto the concrete. Luckily just a broken screen and the camera is still working. I just have to swallow the fact that my once perfect looking camera now has some personality. Wabi Sabi.