A part of me knew for a while that I wasn’t in great shape.

About five-to-ten years before I developed some pretty severe depression combined with anxiety and OCD. I knew that I had to reach out for professional help when I found thoughts of, well, let’s call it “the worst” popping into my head unbidden. “Wouldn’t it be so much easier if…”

Thanks to some bad lessons from my early life, I was leaning more and more heavily on alcohol as a crutch. My diet was shit and exercise was non-existent. Looking back now I was barely alive. I worked, I fought the anxiety demon, I numbed myself with alcohol, fat, salt, and sugar, and I slept.

I was alive, but not in any way beyond the most uselessly literal definition of that word.

Resolutions

My wife — the absolute centre of my Universe and the love of my life — happened to have bought me the book “Ultra Man” by Rich Roll for Christmas. He had found himself in a somewhat similar situation to me — more or less — and took control by fixing his health in an extreme way. Inspired by this I did what we all do from time to time, and I took advantage of the New Year to make a few resolutions. With all the childish enthusiasm of someone who “really means it this time”, I went for the maximum:

• Dry January. No booze until the 1st February.
• A week of zero caffeine.
• Plant-based food. I was already vegan, but no more fake meats, no more simple carbs (white bread, pasta, candy, etc.). Nothing “processed”.
• A 5 km run a few days a week

After a couple of months I decided to start a journal. I bought a nice book and a fancy pen, and every morning would sit down to write. Most often without a plan, but the initial entries mostly revolved around my training & diet, and the progress with my weight loss.

But the very first entry is very interesting.

I’ve known for a long time that I need a new start. Or maybe “known” is the wrong word. Perhaps “felt” is a better way to think about it. I feel like I need a different way of living — of being — but what is it that I want to change?

For months my journalling habit became central to my life. I would get up every morning at 06:00 to write for an hour or so before the rest of the family got up. There was never a plan — I would just start writing, and slowly sink into that wonderful flow state. The subject matter of the journal entries slowly migrated to human longevity issues (think of Peter Attia and his ilk), and from there to philosophy.

I discovered Stoicism and dived in deep.

For an unconscious seeker struggling with his mental health, the message of Stoicism — “amor fati”, etc. — seemed perfectly crafted for me. And it was here that I first bumped into God. Although Stoicism as a philosophy does not need a God or the Divine to draw the conclusions that it does, the “primordial Fire” and “divine Logos” certainly make significant appearances in the various foundational writings. My initial fear when hearing this religious language was quickly relieved when reading the arguments for why religion was not important for Stoicism.

But I was still curious. Maybe I could play with the idea of God?

No. Surely not.

Enter John Vervaeke

In one of the many Stoic presentations I was devouring online, I came across a speaker from a Canadian University called Professor John Vervaeke. He spoke very convincingly about a “Meaning Crisis” that has enveloped the world, and he directed people to a series of lectures he has shared.

This is long. Fifty-one videos of an hour each, but you should watch it. Especially if you are in any doubt about the importance of philosophy and religion, and how these are quite literally vital for us to thrive as individuals and as a society.

Vervaeke completely convinced me and so I went on a search for what he called, “the Religion without Religion.” The idea was that our secular age made religious belief untenable(!), but that we need the structures and symbolism that religion offers. Stoicism seemed close, but didn’t quite have the symbolism, and so I explored Stephen Batchelor’s “After Buddhism” — a secular approach to Buddhist practices explored by someone who had been a Zen monk for decades.

Within the storm

But something kept pushing. During one early meditation practice I remember a strong compulsion to say the Lord’s Prayer. This shocked me, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it, but something was changing.

Things became chaotic. I bought a Bible, a Koran, and a Tarot deck. I discovered Golden Dawn (the Victorian magicians and mystics, not the modern-day Greek fascists!). Videos on shadow work, Kabbalah, and synchronicity started appearing on my feed. Lon Milo Duquette, Foolish Fish, Esoterica, Angela Puca, Let’s Talk Religion, and others made their way into my life.

To be honest it is a blur. Somehow I made my way from studying Stoic practices into the Western Mystical Tradition. I can’t make this part of my story clearer, but only because it still isn’t clear to me. I jumped into a storm as someone on a bit of a health kick and I emerged as an experimental magician and mystic.

And I was happier than I had been in years.

Oh yeah. I am now several years deep into that month off alcohol.