Through my twenties, I continued to live an ascetic existence. Most of my time was spent training, studying or working and I indulged in very little if anything at all. As I recall, I would allow myself to indulge in a slice of Black Forest cake or some desert once a week, when I would get together with my friends and business partners at our weekly cafe meet up. I still had a sweet tooth, so cake or desert was a big treat. But during this time, I was so focused on all the work and training that I didn’t make any time to date. It wasn’t as if I was meeting a potential connection in Kung Fu class, where I spent close to 40 hours a week.
But with all that work that I was doing on myself, with all my studying of Buddhism, I still wasn’t happy. I still did not get to that elusive state of deeper joy and meaning I set out to find at 20. And I think where I went wrong at that time, is that my actions were still driven by ego. Even though I was studying Buddhism, meditating and training, working on my humility and trying to attain a state of being egoless, what I ultimately set out to do was transform myself. I was in the pursuit of an outcome. That outcome was a better me. A version of me that was not “sick” or “defective” but one that was “strong”. That desire to transform myself, stemming from self-loathing, could not possibly end in finding happiness. If your happiness is tied to an outcome, then your happiness is contingent on the result of the outcome. But I didn’t understand that, and even though I was trying to get to “no ego” everything I was doing was still serving to feed my ego. I hadn’t realized this yet.
Through my twenties, regardless of all the effort and work I had done, I was still suffering daily. My Crohn’s pain was a constant in these days. There was never a day from the age 19 until about 31 that I didn’t have pain. Crohn’s, for me, feels like someone was taking a knife and stabbing me in the gut. On good days the pain was a three on a scale of one to ten. Most days it resided between six or seven. I learned to ignore that pain. But once a year I’d have such a bad flare up that the area of the Crohn’s would get so inflamed and infected that food could no longer pass through. I would have a fever of 105 degrees even touching on 106 and I’d have to be rushed to the Emergency Room. Those attacks felt like a nine or ten.
So, in many ways, I didn’t accomplish the goal I set out to achieve. However, I had enough sense to understand that even though my ascetic efforts might not have cured my condition, it did perhaps keep it from becoming worse. And I had this belief that to achieve my goals it would require consistent effort and work. So, I kept chugging along, continuing to work towards achieving my goals and trying to be the best possible version of myself.
Part of the pursuit of betterment was getting into the graduate film program at Columbia University. In my early twenties I worked on a friend’s film project, and I loved the experience. From that day I was working towards becoming a cinematographer because I loved the merger between technology and artistry. As part of the program, at the end of the first year, we had to use the summer break to make a short film. I ended up making a short film in India where the next big life change occurred.
I had gone to India with two of my classmates and one of my closest friends. Another actor joined us so there were five of us from the production. We were staying in a remote hostel on the outskirts of Auroville. And then two more travelers ended up staying at the hostile. One of them was Vinaya Chaitanya who at the time was an Indian Swami and the head of an Ashram. He radiated kindness and an almost childlike innocence. He was accompanied by a warm and joyful American woman. The rest of my team naturally spoke and connected to the two travelers. But I kept myself locked up in my room for most of the time as I prepared for next day’s work.
During this first year of grad school, I was still very much in ascetic mode. So, in India, I wanted no interruptions from the task at hand. And I guess the Vinaya took notice of my behavior. One morning before we set out to go film, he approached me and very kindly offered to help. I was a little puzzled by this offer. I said, “thank you but we’re filming, I don’t see how you could help.” Vinaya then said to me, “I can drive you to set.” The challenge with this offer was that we didn’t have cars in India. We had motorcycles. But not thinking things through, I thought that I could ride the back and keep preparing for the days filming. So, I accepted the offer and got on the back of the bike.
The moment Vinaya takes off I knew we were in real trouble. The back wheel spun out, and we wobbled and teetered on the edge of falling over. I’m not fully sure the Swami had ever driven a motorcycle in his life. Or maybe it was having a much larger person on the back of the bike that was throwing off the center of gravity. Either way, I quickly realized I needed to help balance the bike. So, I put my script away and grabbed the back of the bike and started leaning left and right acting as a counterweight to keep us from toppling over.
So, while I was working really hard to keep us from falling, Vinaya would do the craziest thing. He would turn around to talk to me. He would ask me pointed questions about my life while completely taking his eyes off the road to look back at me. I was deeply concerned that we were going to get into a terrible accident.
His first question was, “Do you have a girlfriend?” I quickly retorted no and said, “But, please look forward.” He then turned around again and asked me why. I quickly blurted out that I was too busy working and asked him again to keep his eyes on the road. He turned around again and asked, “why was I too busy working?” I said, “because I wanted to achieve my goals” and probably nervously said “watch the road”. He turned around again and asked, “why was I trying to achieve these goals?”
That question stunned me. Added to my loss for words was the very real fear that at any moment we may crash with another biker or fall to our death. Why was it so important for me to achieve these goals? A funny thing happens when you think you’re going to die or get fatally injured while someone asks you pointed questions about your life choices. You inevitably are forced to reassess your life choices. And what I took away from that very deceptively smart Swami was this very simple question, why wasn’t I enjoying life? If you can lose your life in an instant in some horrible crash, then what are you doing with the precious moments you have? Was there a way to strike a balance? Could I keep working to achieve my goals while enjoying life?
That very night after filming, I broke my 10-year Ascetic lifestyle. I asked for a beedi (an Indian cigarette) from one of my colleagues and had a smoke. And it felt really good. I mean really, really good. Was there a way to strike a balance? Maybe I could indulge in a vice from time to time. Maybe I could date and not invest all my time in work. Work/life balance, right?
One other big thing happened soon after this event. I owe a lot to my aunt. She has always been very giving and supportive. My aunt was a very smart and knowledgeable pharmaceutical engineer. One night during dinner with the family, she presents me an article and said, “could you be allergic to Gluten?” This was now about fifteen years ago. No one was really talking about Gluten back then. I said, “what is Gluten?”. She said, “it is wheat.”
I was flabbergasted. I already gave up most things and ate what I thought was really healthy. How can I now give up all wheat products? I literally asked her that. She said, “just try it and see if you feel better.” Well, after reading the article I decided it couldn’t hurt to try. And the change was dramatic. After just a day I was already better. After three days the difference was remarkable. And for the first time in over ten years, I was no longer struck by daily pain.
I still had Crohn’s. It wasn’t like I was cured overnight. But for sure a lot of what was driving the inflammation in my intestines and body was Gluten. Once I went Gluten free, I started having pain free days. Arthritic and psoriatic flares became a thing of the past. What being pain free did for my quality of life was remarkable. I was so grateful to have the reprieve from the constant stabbing pain. It was like I saw the world with rose colored glasses for the first time in a long time. And I was so grateful and appreciative of this new state that I took pleasure in everything. Even the mundane.
So my 30’s became a period of striving to find balance between work and pleasure. I still worked hard to achieve my goals but not doggedly. I stopped training Kung Fu as my focus became building my career. I would still work out to stay in shape, but not necessarily every day. I made room in my life to stop and smell the roses. I experimented with vices, allowing myself to smoke one cigarette a night. For whatever reason the thought of smoking a cigarette during the day was gross to me. But one at night was a joy I looked forward to. And I started actively dating for several years until I met the woman who would become my wife and then later my ex-wife.
In time, the one cigarette a night thing fell away as I soon grew sick of it. I’d allow myself to have a drink or two from time to time, but it too was something I never craved. I even indulged in weed from time to time during this period. These years I was more flexible and willing to let loose. But I found the things that brought me pleasure and joy were the simple things. I truly loved green tea and chocolate. If I had those around, I was happy. I’d also indulgence in frozen yogurt during summers. During these years, I felt as though I had found some sort of balance. I was enjoying life and working towards career and family. All the things you’re supposed to do.
But what I wasn’t really doing was fully working on myself. What I mean by that was that during this period I wasn’t thinking actively about philosophy or spirituality. Sure, I was working as a cinematographer, writer and filmmaker. So, when I would write or direct, there was certainly introspection and exploration of humanity. And although I didn’t actively meditate as frequently during these years, I did find writing to be highly meditative.
Things were in general pretty good during this period. I enjoyed the work I was doing. I was married to someone I loved. I made time to work out, spend time with family and travel with my partner. And my Crohn’s attacks became less frequent. And though I’d still have a bad flare up from time to time, I wasn’t being rushed to the emergency room once a year like I used to in my twenties.
It was the first time in my life where I was generally happy.
That was until my late thirties into forties where life threw some new curve balls as it will often do.