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Riding compounding waves of inspiration



Scary encounter

Max Zografos

On our way back from Satya’s walk we saw a lady that looked like someone we may’ve met before. So much so that Satya jumped and tried to kiss her.

By the time it dawned on me that (a) I have never met this lady before, and (b) that she doesn't like dogs (like, at all) it was too late.

I tried to pull Satya back but I was carrying a shopping bag with the other hand. Her paws managed to make contact on that lady’s chest. Oh, the daggers she shot at me.

Alas, it didn't stop there. Satya and I kept walking down the pavement. I then looked over my shoulder and that lady was still staring at us. I turned and kept walking another bunch of steps until I checked again. Sure enough her eyes where still fixated on me. Yikes.

Eventually, thank God, she was on her way. Dear me, that must be the scariest encounter I've had in ages. And it was in my neighbourhood so I dread at the prospect of walking into that woman again.

I am (slowly) learning to be more responsible with Satya. Keep her on a tighter leash and always assume that people don't like dogs unless they actively come forward. Always stay mindful.

To that woman I send love and ask for forgiveness. I have aggravated and perhaps even scared her. I'm sorry.

This is what dogs look like to some people. This is no joke. It's not their fault. We dog owners have to respect and work around this fact of life.

This is what dogs look like to some people. This is no joke. It's not their fault. We dog owners have to respect and work around this fact of life.

Fuel vs. Reward

Max Zografos

My breakfast consists of three bananas. It's been like this for years. Today however I forgot to eat them. I even forgot that I forgot.

In fact I was unusually alert. More so than the usual coffee kick. Ah, but of course. I haven't eaten anything. My body cannot go anywhere near lethargy. Not before it gets fed.

Unfed breadwinners

Ireland is notorious for breeding greyhounds for the tracks. Ostensibly one of the ways they compel them to race is by not feeding them until after they've fulfilled their running duties.

Those dogs truly work for their breakfast.[1]

Are we rewarding our bodies too early? Are we giving them pleasures before we get to enjoy the fruits of their labour? Are we doling out the wrong incentives?

What's the right balance between fuel and reward?

  1. Exploiting dogs for racing or any form of entertainment, betting, or other vices is unethical. As a vegan and human I oppose this tradition, its associated waste and animal suffering.

4 Things you Win (and 1 you Lose) when Adopting a Dog

Max Zografos


The first thing I used to reach for, upon waking up, was my tablet. I knew it was unhealthy but I kept doing it.

Since Satya arrived, the lure of the tablet is not that strong. I instead spend five minutes giving her the best possible wake-up experience I possibly can. Win.

The mornings are more regimented and organised. They have to be. I have to fit everything in: exercise, walk in Hyde Park, feeding Satya and starting work on time. Who has time for Facebook? Not me. Win.

I take her with me to the Google Campus, Starbucks, buses, and everywhere else. Strangers appear out of the woods and talk to me. People I'd have never met otherwise. The quality and quantity of networking we've done is priceless. Win.

Carrying a dog around serves as an anthropological study. The reactions I observe in people are out of the ordinary. The affection Satya (and I) receive is as unexpected as it is unpredictable.

Blessings. Out of the blue. Souls dispatched from a part of the Universe I had no access to before. Win.

I also get rejection

The number of times we got kicked out of shopping malls and coffee joints is greater than I'd have liked. Some folks are allergic to the idea of furry things, and don't want them “anywhere near me” (sic).

I also get complaints from neighbours when she is home alone. Being a rescue, she howls a lot.

Learn. Grow.

Satya and I are navigating uncertain times with curiosity and wonder.

It's been almost a month with her and (overall) things are beginning to clear and settle. She is more mellow now; her coat is softer; her pet peeves on a slow but steady decline.

What more could I ask for?


Are you getting any?

Max Zografos

I just typed up my notes from "The Quantum Doctor" by Amit Goswami (you can read them here). It was during this second pass of his magnum opus (no exaggeration, you should read it now) that I discovered this little tidbit:

For the throat chakra imbalance of vital energy, to deal with frustration of expression, the psychological task is to find avenues for creativity.

Writing is brain hygiene

Writing sweeps away all the mind-stuff that loiters around in my brain. What it leaves behind is clean reality; what is.

And if I keep writing, if I keep flushing things out, then there is no dark stuffy space for the fungus of frustration to thrive.

One of the greatest ailments of humankind (too grandiose a statement I know) is frustrated and ultimately misdirected "energy". There are several avenues for that energy to manifest. The grossest and most obvious one is carnal. Sex and violence for example.

Now, I'm 35 and I've not had any mind-bogglingly great sex yet. My sex life was never marked by high levels of quantity or quality. Back in my twenties I was frustrated aplenty. I was boiling in my stew.

An interesting symptom which I couldn't explain (or bothered to explain) back then was this recurring throat pain. It wasn't your typical sore throat. The pain was not superficial; it was deep-rooted.

What my body experienced was a physical representation of something lacking. That something was creativity.

Fast forward a few years

Writing came to my (ultimate) rescue and, thank God, I've never been in that ugly place again. This doesn't mean I don't need to "release" myself. Of course I do. But my approach to such gentlemanly activities is more planned and deliberate. I've assigned a specific day of the week for it.

TMI, I know, but what I'm trying to convey is that sex has ceased to control me. It gets done, yes, but only when it's convenient. It fits in my calendar in the same way I schedule, dunno, my weekly cooking sessions.

Does my sex life sound boring?

That's because it is. I think about sex in the same way I do about food. Of course I can appreciate a good meal, but it is more of a bodily need than a pleasure or obsession.

When I feel frustrated, all I have to do is pull my iPad out, launch Editorial and unleash myself. Type anything I want and need. And if I feel misunderstood then I post it online too.

There is no better medicine than this. Try it for yourself.