Why Is My 5 Month Old Baby Pooping So Much Being Real – How to Create a Better Relationship and Still Be Successful at Work

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Being Real – How to Create a Better Relationship and Still Be Successful at Work

My boyfriend is a gay, South African, Jewish, Hindu priest. He’s not gay when he’s a priest. When he’s gay, he’s not a priest. When he does Judaism, it’s different. However, underneath all the labels, it is completely authentic. The key to this is that none of the rolls are sticky. He knows himself very well and is not so trapped in different masks that he cannot take them off. Underneath all those public faces, he knows who he really is. Naturally.

We construct these masks because people have judgments and without a facade they might just throw the message away. I’ve worked with some amazing rock stars and the person I meet is a complete contrast to the person they present on stage.

Authenticity doesn’t mean coplanar and boring as hell. It means we can morph, adapt, put on different masks to help people get the message we’re sharing, but if we think those masks are real, problems turn into disasters.

When I was 5 years old I adored superman. At the time, we read about him in comics. One day I put on clean underwear, a little white sleeveless tank top, tied a towel around my shoulders to stand on the back of a chair, and jumped headfirst out the second story window of my Nanna’s house.

I woke up in the doctor’s office as the excruciating pain shot through my body as my broken nose clicked back into place. Blood everywhere, I didn’t fly. And luckily I went down and cracked my nose on the window ledge before I left the room.

I now carry this reminder, at least on the outside, 3 major surgeries on the inside of my sinus restored my ability to breathe through my nose again. It’s a stark reminder that, unlike my gay, South African, Jewish, and Hindu priest counterparts, I’m best off taking off my labels and masks at the end of the day.

Admittedly, that childhood experience didn’t translate into this message until 30 years later, but in retrospect, when I wanted to learn it, the lesson was there.

When people ask me, “So Chris, what do you do?” I was always shaking. I encountered the complexity of the mind noise that created my Ego facade, my identity. “Oh, I’m a Christian, oh, I’m a Buddhist, oh, I’m an entrepreneur, oh, I’m a spiritual teacher, oh, I’m an engineer, oh, I drive a business tycoon’s Porsche.” Cripies what a load of work.

It’s not that any of them are bad, but I mistook the labels of these brands for authenticity. I put on my clothes, but I couldn’t remember who I was before I decked myself out in those facades.

No one is a Christian, but some people believe in Christianity. No one is a Buddhist, but some people believe in Buddhism. No one is a Porsche entrepreneur, but some people drive Porsches and do business. Labeling ourselves with beliefs, ideologies, professions and any form of mathematical labeling only reveals how far apart we are from God or ourselves.

This is why Self Help doesn’t work. Eventually people will realize that there is no self that needs help, only the facade needs help and that is like a cat chasing its tail.

I loved my first real store as a newborn baby. I loved the brand. I loved what we stood for, I loved our design, I believed in our product and invested our family’s life savings to become an Australian licensee for it.

We built a factory, hired people, made money. I trained, practiced, learned, respected and believed in what I did because I loved the product and what it did for my clients.

I wasn’t sure about its future, so I stayed separate from it. I invested my heart and soul into making it work, but the business wasn’t me and I wasn’t the business. Who wants to join a sinking ship?

And because I wasn’t attached to it, because I loved the product and the brand, my clients loved the product and the brand. You can’t fake this kind of detachment. The success of my company was guaranteed. It grew and grew and grew.

When I met my first wife, I was really in love with her. I couldn’t get attached to her because she was an independent person who made decisions that were out of my control. And since I was separated from her, I loved her with all my heart and soul. Then we got into a relationship and screwed up the whole thing. As the certainty of our shared destiny grew, the more attached I became, the more attached we are to someone, the less we can truly love them.

Eventually, my company, my job at the company, my ability to handle the stress of work outgrew me, and then I hated it. I blamed everything for the change, but in reality I stayed behind the business for 5 years. Then I lost confidence in myself and ultimately in the brand.

The more the good reputation of the business grew and the more I felt confident that the business had a future, the more I had a relationship between the business and myself.

While at first I would come home to my wife and say, “I worked on the business today,” feeling nourished by the effort despite the hardships, eventually I would come home and say, “I’m doing great, my business is growing.” I lost the ability to take off my suit and put on lover’s clothes.

My wife lost her partner and got a business manager. My identity was tied to that business in the same way that I was tied to superman as a child. Now I was really stuffed. When the business went up, I went up, when it went down, I went down, and I guess that has a double meaning, if you know what I’m saying.

Surgeons do skin grafts. They take a piece of plastic or real leather and place it on the wound. The imported skin will eventually link to the real skin and bing, the difference is barely visible.

When I became attached to my business and began to identify my being with it, I made a “life graft”.

I grafted a false identity with the real me and got a new one, looking good and feeling good. And while things continued to rise, it was a great, brilliant association. For me.

But for my family, for my wife, for my health, and for all the other people who depended on me to show up in my other suits, I just couldn’t take off the business owner suit. It’s like standing on top of a mountain looking at the view and wondering how much it would cost to buy Mount Everest. It’s just ugly.

More than ugly, it’s downright painful. Both for the person stuck in the suit and for those around them.

So I went from Superman, a member of a street gang, a sports champion, to a husband, a businessman and a wealthy entrepreneur. Soon I will be a divorced former businessman, former sports hero, poor failed businessman. Attached like a yoyo on a string, my “life grafts” stole the happiness from everything I did.

“You don’t seem too happy, Chris,” people would say unsolicited. Damn, I seriously thought I could fake it. But the same thing happened at home. My wife said, “Don’t you look happy, Chris?”

I ran around looking for the bastard who was running ahead of me telling people before I arrived but there was none.

While the future remained uncertain, I remained humble, detached and therefore able to put my heart and soul into everything I did 1000%. But the moment it started to show signs of success, I would do a “life graft” and attach myself to anything, including my children, and steal the joy.

My children were born 3 years apart. The first, Simon, was the scariest experience of my life. It was a normal birth, but from the moment he appeared on the ground, I was counting his every breath. I loved him because I couldn’t get attached to him.

I had no experience with babies, so every second of him was a miracle. It was made even worse by the fact that when we took him home from the hospital on the 4th day of his life, he fell out of the stroller and hit his head on the pavement. If ever she was going to remind me of the vulnerability of life, this was it.

And because I was vulnerable, because his life wasn’t guaranteed, I couldn’t attach myself to him. I could only love him. A love like nothing I’ve ever known. At that moment I knew there was a God.

Six months later, Simon was a healthy, noisy, needy hungry, laughing, pooping baby. His life became more predictable and therefore had a greater potential for attachment.

I was about to do another life graft when my ex-wife stepped in and reminded me that she, instead of me being in charge, grafted it onto her body, it was time for me to get back to work. It was the greatest blessing, even though it wasn’t so good at the time.

Stephanie was the third child. When she arrived we were pretty sure of her journey, so when she was born I was attached to her. I didn’t understand the difference between love and attachment, so I grafted it into my skin.

The proud father suddenly, after two boys, completely lost objectivity, clinging to her every breath, her ups and downs. I couldn’t separate, it became a tug of war between her mother and me and I lost. Again, a great blessing to learn to love without attachment.

These days I am like Joseph in the Old Testament with his coat of many colors. I have a work color, a play color, a lovers color, a sports color, a money color, a social responsibility color, and my spiritual color.

I can take them off and put them on whenever I want because I know how to go to the top of a mountain, take off my entire coat and just be in silence, connected to all of nature without identity, opinion, belief, thought, idea, expectation. In this state I have no skin to graft, no attachment to do things right, no need to be “something”. It’s just time to be.

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