Tag Archives: Buddhism

Congratulations You Made it

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If your future self could send you one sentence, what do you hope it would say?

If my future self could send me one sentence, I think I’d want it to say:

“Congratulations, you made it through everything you once thought would break you, and somehow you became the person you were always meant to be.”

Not you became rich.

Not you became famous.

Not even you got everything you wanted.

Just…

You made it.

Because I think we spend far too much of our lives measuring success by destinations.

The job.

The house.

The money.

The achievements.

The things we can put on a CV and point at proudly.

But perhaps the greatest achievement is simply reaching the other side of the storms that once convinced us we wouldn’t.

Looking back and realising that the mistakes weren’t the end.

The heartbreak wasn’t the end.

The failures weren’t the end.

The days when getting out of bed felt like an achievement weren’t the end.

They were chapters.

Some difficult.

Some ridiculous.

Some I’d happily rip out of the book altogether.

But they were still chapters.

And if future me is reading this, I hope he smiles.

Not because life turned out perfectly.

But because it turned out to be worth it.

So yes, future me…

Congratulations.

You made it.

Now go and enjoy the next chapter.

Stay safe

Bc

The Best Advice I Ever Received Was Hidden in a Book

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What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

People occasionally ask me what the best piece of advice I’ve ever received is. They’re usually expecting a memorable quote from a famous person or perhaps something a mentor once said to me.

My answer is a little different.

As I’ve often mentioned before, many years ago a girlfriend gave me a copy of Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitionerby Scott Cunningham. At the time, i couldn’t have imagined how significant that simple gift would become. It wasn’t just another book to add to the shelf; it opened my eyes to a completely different way of looking at the world.

That journey eventually led me to explore both Wicca and Buddhism. While they are very different spiritual traditions, I discovered they shared a lesson that has stayed with me ever since.

The best advice I’ve ever received is this:

Realise that peace comes from within, not from trying to change the outside world.

It’s such a simple idea, yet it takes most of us years to truly understand.

We spend so much of our lives believing happiness will arrive when circumstances improve. We tell ourselves we’ll be content when we find the perfect relationship, earn a little more money, get the promotion, move house or finally tick off the next goal.

But life has a habit of reminding us that there is always another challenge waiting around the corner.

If our peace depends entirely on the world behaving as we’d like it to, we’ll spend much of our lives disappointed.

One of my favourite Wiccan sayings captures this beautifully:

“True peace is kindled within the sacred circle; tend your inner flame, and the world will mirror calm.”

Whether you interpret the sacred circle literally or simply as the space within your own mind, the message is still the same. Before we can bring peace into our lives, we have to nurture it within ourselves.

Years later I found exactly the same wisdom expressed through Buddhism.

The Buddha taught that much of our suffering comes not from what happens to us, but from our attachment to how we think life should be. We exhaust ourselves trying to control people, situations and outcomes that were never ours to control in the first place.

The more we resist reality, the more we suffer.

The more we accept the present moment, while still doing our best to respond wisely, the more peaceful life becomes.

That doesn’t mean giving up or becoming indifferent. It means understanding where our real power lies.

We can’t control every event.

We can’t control other people.

We can’t stop change.

But we can choose how we respond.

Looking back now, I realise that the greatest lesson wasn’t simply found in the pages of Scott Cunningham’s book. It emerged through years of reading, reflection and experience. Wicca pointed me towards the importance of living in harmony with myself and the natural world. Buddhism deepened that understanding by teaching me that lasting peace isn’t something we discover outside ourselves.

It’s something we cultivate within.

So if someone asked me today what the best advice I’ve ever received is, my answer would still be the same.

Don’t spend your life trying to create the perfect world.

Instead, create peace within yourself.

Everything else becomes much easier after that.

Stay safe

Bc

The Two Things I Stopped Worrying About

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What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?

There are two answers to this.

The obvious one is death.

Most people worry about it, even if they don’t admit it to themselves. It’s the one certainty we all spend our lives trying not to think about.

The difference for me is that I’ve been clinically dead.

That experience didn’t make me fearless or convince me I’m invincible. I still value my life. I still wear a seatbelt. I still look both ways before crossing the road. But it did change my relationship with death.

(Read Hello old Friend)

I no longer see it as something lurking around every corner, waiting to steal today’s happiness.

It’ll come when it comes.

Until then, I’d rather spend my energy living than worrying about the inevitable.

The second answer took much longer to conquer.

Other people’s opinions.

Again, I think most of us care far more than we’re willing to admit. We worry about saying the wrong thing, looking foolish, being judged or misunderstood. We edit ourselves before we’ve even opened our mouths.

I certainly did.

Then, about ten years ago, I started writing honestly on this blog.

Not the polished version of life.

The real one.

The struggles with mental health. Autism. PTSD. Family life. The victories, the failures, and all the wonderfully messy bits in between.

When you spend a decade opening your heart to complete strangers on the internet, something unexpected happens.

You realise the world doesn’t end.

Some people won’t like you.

Some will misunderstand you.

A few will judge you without ever really knowing you.

And that’s perfectly alright.

Because just as you’re free to have an opinion about them, they’re free to have one about you.

Turning fifty probably helped as well.

There’s something wonderfully liberating about reaching an age where you finally understand that you were never going to be everyone’s cup of tea—and you don’t actually need to be.

The people who matter already know who you are.

The people who don’t… probably never will.

Life is far too short to spend it performing for an audience you’ll never satisfy.

So these days I worry less about death.

I worry less about what strangers think.

Instead, I try to focus on something far more worthwhile.

Living a life that feels honest.

If I manage that, the rest tends to take care of itself.

Stay safe,

Bc

A Fraction of a Second After Death

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There’s a thought that’s been rattling around my head lately.

Dangerous thing, really.

Because once certain thoughts get in there, they don’t politely sit in the corner and wait their turn. They pace. They whisper. They pull up a chair at three in the morning while you’re trying to sleep and say:

“Go on then… explain this.”

And this one goes something like:

What if, when you die, you simply move a fraction of a second forward in time?

Not heaven.
Not hell.
Not ghosts floating around old pubs knocking glasses over for dramatic effect.

Just…

A tiny shift.

A cosmic blink.

A quantum sidestep.

And somehow—you’re still here.

Now before the scientists start throwing textbooks at me and the spiritualists start sharpening crystals into weapons, I’m not saying this is true.

I’m saying it’s interesting.

And sometimes interesting is enough.

Because the more you read about quantum physics, the stranger reality starts to feel anyway. Particles existing in multiple states. Matter behaving differently when observed. Entire theories suggesting reality itself is far less solid than we like pretending it is.

Which raises an uncomfortable possibility:

What if death isn’t the full stop we think it is?

What if consciousness—whatever that truly is—isn’t as fixed to this version of reality as we assume?

There’s a theory called quantum immortality. The basic idea being that from your own perspective, you never actually experience death. Reality simply continues along whatever thread allows consciousness to persist.

Mad idea, isn’t it?

But then again, so is the fact we’re tiny self-aware monkeys standing on a spinning rock, hurtling through infinite darkness while arguing online about pineapple on pizza.

Reality lost the right to demand seriousness a long time ago.

Still…

The idea lingers.

Because haven’t we all had moments that felt strange?

Those near misses.

That split second where things should have gone differently.

The car that almost hit you.
The illness you somehow survived.
The accident that by all logic should’ve ended badly.

And afterward there’s that odd feeling.

Not gratitude exactly.

More like disorientation.

As if some hidden part of you quietly whispers:

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Maybe that’s just psychology.

Maybe the brain struggles to process proximity to death.

Or maybe—and here’s where it gets wonderfully weird—some version of you did die.

Just not this one.

Perhaps consciousness simply slid sideways into the nearest available moment where the story continued.

Not because you’re special.
Not because the universe has a grand plan.

But because existence itself might be stranger than language can hold.

And honestly?

I find that oddly comforting.

Not immortality itself.
That sounds exhausting.

Can you imagine eternity?

Eventually even your favourite songs would start feeling like hold music.

No, what comforts me is the possibility that reality isn’t as cold and mechanical as we sometimes fear. That there may still be mysteries beyond our measuring tools. That science, for all its brilliance, may only be scratching at the wallpaper of something far larger.

Because for all our cleverness, we still don’t truly understand consciousness.

We can describe neurons firing.
Chemical reactions.
Electrical impulses.

But the actual experience of being you?

That inner world?

That strange flicker behind the eyes?

We’re still fumbling around in the dark there.

And perhaps that’s where philosophy and physics awkwardly shake hands.

Both standing at the edge of existence saying:

“Well… this is getting a bit bloody strange.”

The older I get, the less certain I become about anything.

Ironically, that feels healthier than certainty ever did.

Maybe death is the end.

Maybe it’s a doorway.

Maybe it’s just silence.

Or maybe, just maybe…

You move a fraction of a second forward in time.

Enough to keep existing.

Enough to keep wondering.

Enough to still be here reading ridiculous blog posts like this one while the kettle boils in the background.

And if that’s true—

if consciousness does somehow continue—

I hope future-me eventually figures out where I left my glasses.

Stay safe,

Bc

The Best Advice I Can Ever Give You

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If you had to give one life-changing tip, what would it be?

If I had to give just one life-changing tip, it would be this:

Look after your mental health just as much as your physical health.

We spend hours thinking about our bodies. We count our steps, join gyms, watch what we eat, and book check-ups when something doesn’t feel right. Yet when it comes to our minds, many of us simply hope we’ll be okay.

Hope isn’t a strategy.

The truth is, your mind is involved in every decision you make, every relationship you build, every challenge you face, and every dream you pursue. If your mental wellbeing is neglected, everything else eventually feels harder. Stress becomes overwhelming. Small problems become mountains. Joy becomes difficult to recognise.

For far too long, we’ve been taught to “keep going,” “man up,” or “just get on with it.” Those phrases have probably caused more harm than they’ll ever receive credit for. Strength isn’t found in suffering silently. Real strength is recognising when you’re struggling and having the courage to speak up.

Looking after your mental health doesn’t always mean counselling or medication, although both can be life-changing for many people. Sometimes it means getting enough sleep. Sometimes it means putting your phone down and taking a walk. Sometimes it’s saying “no” without feeling guilty. Sometimes it’s talking honestly with a friend over a cup of tea.

And sometimes it’s simply admitting, “I’m not okay today.”

There’s no shame in that.

We service our cars before they break down. We charge our phones before the battery reaches zero. Yet so many of us wait until we’re completely exhausted before giving ourselves permission to rest.

Imagine if we treated our minds with the same care we treat our bodies.

The world would be a kinder place.

So, if there’s one thing I’d encourage you to do today, it’s this: check in with yourself. Not the automatic “I’m fine” we all give, but a genuine moment of honesty. Ask yourself how you’re really doing.

Because your mental health isn’t a luxury.

It’s the foundation everything else is built upon.

Stay safe.

BC

Ten Years of Words, Thoughts and a Journey I Never Expected

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Well, it turns out it’s my website’s birthday.

Ten years ago, I sat down and started building something from scratch. At the time, it was simply a place to put my thoughts, feelings and experiences into words — a way of making sense of the world around me after being diagnosed as Autistic. (Looking back it makes sense)

I don’t think, even in my wildest dreams, I could have imagined where that small beginning would lead me.

Ten years later, this little corner of the internet has become so much more than a website. It has become a place for connection, understanding and shared experiences. It has allowed me to tell my story, to open conversations, and to hopefully help others feel a little less alone on their own journeys.

When I first started writing, I had no idea who would read my words or where they would take me. I certainly never imagined that so many people would come along for the ride, follow my journey and offer their support along the way.

For that, I am truly grateful.

To everyone who has read a blog post, shared a story, sent a message, offered encouragement or simply taken the time to understand — thank you. Your support has meant more than you probably realise. Every interaction has been a reminder that sharing our experiences can create connections that we never expected.

Of course, there is one person who deserves a very special thank you: Mrs Bob.

Behind the scenes, she has been my constant support throughout this entire journey. She has written, proofread, made phone calls, helped shape my thoughts and, most importantly, been my neurotypical whisperer when I’ve needed someone to help translate my way of seeing the world.

She has worked tirelessly alongside me, often without recognition, and I honestly couldn’t have reached this point without her.

Looking back over these ten years, I realise this website has been a record of growth, discovery and acceptance. It has captured moments of frustration, joy, learning and everything in between.

The journey hasn’t always been straightforward, but it has always been mine.

So, on this tenth birthday, I’m not just celebrating a website. I’m celebrating the conversations started, the friendships made, the lessons learned and the incredible community that has grown around it.

Thank you for being part of my journey.

Here’s to the next chapter.

Bob

Stay safe

Bc

Ps here’s that first post I put out…

https://bob-christian.com/2016/07/31/hello/

Everything Happens… But Not Always for a Reason

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Do you think everything happens for a reason?

“Everything happens for a reason.”

It’s one of those phrases that usually arrives just after something awful has happened.

Someone loses a loved one.

A relationship ends.

A diagnosis turns life upside down.

And almost without thinking, someone says it.

“Everything happens for a reason.”

I know it’s usually meant kindly.

It’s an attempt to comfort.

To make sense of chaos.

To reassure us that the universe hasn’t completely lost the plot.

But I’ve never been entirely comfortable with it.

Not because I think life is meaningless.

Far from it.

I think the problem lies in what we mean by reason.

If by “reason” we mean that every tragedy was deliberately planned by some higher power—that every child who becomes ill, every war, every act of cruelty was intentionally designed as part of some grand blueprint—then I struggle with that idea.

Not because I lack faith in mystery.

But because it asks us to believe that unimaginable suffering was somehow necessary.

I’m not convinced.

There’s another way of looking at it, though.

Perhaps “reason” doesn’t mean purpose.

Perhaps it simply means cause.

Everything that happens has causes and conditions.

A tree doesn’t fall because the universe chose that exact tree.

It falls because roots weaken, soil shifts, fungi grow unseen beneath the surface, and eventually gravity finishes the conversation.

Human lives are much the same.

Who we become isn’t usually shaped by one dramatic moment.

It’s thousands of tiny moments.

The family we’re born into.

The kindnesses we receive.

The wounds we carry.

The books we read.

The strangers we meet.

The mistakes we survive.

Each one nudges us ever so slightly until, years later, we look in the mirror and wonder how on earth we became this particular version of ourselves.

That’s not destiny.

That’s cause and effect.

In many ways it’s far more fascinating.

It also reminds us that our own actions become part of someone else’s chain of causes.

A smile offered to a stranger.

A harsh word spoken in anger, to the driver that cut you up.

A poem that reaches someone on exactly the day they needed it.

None of these things happen in isolation.

They ripple.

Sometimes far further than we’ll ever know.

Perhaps that’s why I try to choose kindness whenever I can.

Not because I think it’ll magically make the universe reward me.

But because every action adds another thread to the web we’re all helping to weave.

Life isn’t always fair.

Bad things happen to good people.

Good things happen to difficult people.

And sometimes there isn’t an answer that satisfies us.

But there are always causes.

Always choices.

Always consequences.

Maybe that’s enough.

So no…

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason.

But I do believe everything happens because of reasons.

And understanding the difference might just change the way we understand ourselves.

Stay safe,

Bc

One Was Always Enough.

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What’s your biggest dream?

When I first started this website and began yelling into the void that is the internet, I had one dream.

Not a book deal.

Not a viral post.

Not thousands of followers hanging on every badly punctuated sentence.

Just one person.

If something I wrote found its way into the right hands, at the right time, and nudged someone towards hope instead of despair, kindness instead of bitterness, or courage instead of fear, then I reckoned the whole experiment would have been worth it.

That was the dream.

The internet has a funny way of making us believe that numbers are everything. Views. Likes. Shares. Subscribers. As though the value of a thought is measuredby the size of the crowd listening.

I’ve never been convinced.

History is full of quiet conversations that changed lives, while the loudest voices were forgotten before the ink had dried.

Over the years, I’ve had a few messages from strangers. from people who stumbled across a poem, or one of my rambling posts at exactly the moment they needed it.

“Thank you.”

Those messages mean more than you’ll ever know.

Because every single one reminds me that words still matter.

Not because they’re mine, but because honest words have a peculiar habit of finding the people they’re meant to find.

If anything I’ve written has helped you laugh when life felt heavy, think when the world demanded outrage, or believe that tomorrow might just be a little brighter than today, then you’ve given me something far greater than any statistic ever could.

You’ve allowed this grumpy old poet to live beyond his original dream.

So thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for sharing the journey.

And thank you for reminding me that even when it feels like we’re all shouting into the void, sometimes the void quietly whispers back.

Stay safe

Bc

The Most Dangerous Trend We Ever Normalised.

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If you could erase one trend from history, what would it be?

If I could erase one trend from history, it wouldn’t be a fashion trend, or pineapple on pizza (although I know some of you are already sharpening your pitchforks).

It would be greed.

Not ambition.

Not success.

Not the desire to build something meaningful.

Greed.

Because there comes a point where wealth stops being about security and starts becoming about accumulation for accumulation’s sake.

We now live in a world where some individuals possess wealth measured in hundreds of billions of pounds, and we’re rapidly approaching the day someone will officially be recognised as a trillionaire. Meanwhile, millions of people struggle to afford food, heating or somewhere safe to live.

That should make us all pause for thought.

No single individual creates that amount of value alone.

Every successful business is built upon workers who turn up every day, customers who buy the products, publicly funded schools that educated the workforce, roads that transport goods, healthcare that keeps people healthy enough to work, and legal systems that protect commerce.

Success is rarely a solo achievement.

When one person accumulates more wealth than entire countries, I don’t see a triumph of capitalism.

I see a system that has drifted badly out of balance.

Because the truth is, wealth on that scale often relies upon underpaid labour, aggressive tax avoidance, monopolistic behaviour, and extracting far more from society than is ever returned.

That isn’t innovation.

It’s imbalance.

But greed isn’t confined to bank balances.

It quietly slips into the way we judge each other.

Some people decide another person’s worth by the clothes they wear.

Others by the car they drive.

The size of their house.

The colour of their skin.

Their accent.

Their country of origin.

Or the number on their payslip.

Surely we’ve learned by now that none of those things tell us anything meaningful about the character of the person standing in front of us.

The question shouldn’t be, “How much are they worth?”

It should be, “What do they contribute?”

Do they help others?

Do they make their community a little better?

Do they show kindness when nobody is watching?

Can they work alongside people with different backgrounds towards a common goal?

Those things matter.

Always have.

Always will.

History has shown us time and again that societies flourish when they value cooperation over division, compassion over prejudice, and contribution over consumption.

Perhaps if we spent a little less time admiring wealth, and a little more time admiring decency, we’d all be richer in the ways that actually matter.

Stay safe

Bc

When Mail Call Meant Everything.

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Which outdated technology do you miss the most, and why?

The answer may surprise you, because it isn’t an old gadget or a forgotten piece of kit.

It’s letters.

Not because I’m against email. Far from it. Email is brilliant at what it does. It’s instant, searchable and gets the job done. When Adam from HR or Tom from Accounts needs last quarter’s numbers by 3pm, you don’t reach for a fountain pen and a sheet of A4.

But somewhere along the way, convenience quietly replaced something much more personal.

I joined the Army in the 1990s, before smartphones, social media and the internet became part of everyday life. Back then, one of the biggest highlights of the week was mail call.

It wasn’t just about hearing your name.

It was knowing that someone had sat down, found the time, and written to you. Every envelope was different. Different handwriting. Different paper. Sometimes there were photographs folded inside. Sometimes childish drawings. Sometimes a pressed flower, a train ticket or some other little keepsake that meant nothing to anyone else but everything to you.

And then there were the things technology still can’t replicate.

You can’t spray an email with her favourite perfume.

You can’t instantly recognise who’s written before you’ve even opened it because of the handwriting on the envelope.

And you certainly don’t get the entertainment of trying to decipher handwriting so spectacularly bad it needs its own translator.

A letter had character. It had imperfections. It had fingerprints, creases and coffee stains. It had travelled hundreds or even thousands of miles before it landed in your hands.

An email arrives exactly as it left.

A letter arrives with a story.

I still have letters tucked away in boxes that are over thirty years old. Every now and then I’ll stumble across one, unfold it and be transported straight back to that moment. I can’t say the same for emails buried somewhere in an inbox with 1,800 unread messages.

Technology has given us incredible ways to stay connected. We can video call someone on the other side of the world in seconds. We can send photos instantly. We can share our lives in real time.

That’s progress, and I wouldn’t want to lose it.

But I do think we’ve sacrificed a little of the human touch in the process.

Sometimes the slow way was the better way.

Not because it was more efficient, but because it reminded us that the person on the other end had invested something you can’t download or automate.

Time.

And perhaps that’s the bit of old technology I miss the most.

Stay safe

Bc