The cold is an absolute doorway to the soul - Wim Hof

“The cold is an absolute doorway to the soul”

— Wim Hof

For those who have not sussed out where I live, I pretty much take the opportunity to mention it whenever I can. It is a city called Brighton & Hove in Sussex in the UK. For those who may be reading this blog from elsewhere in the global village, when you look at a map of the UK, find London, scan your eyes directly South. When you reach the sea that’s us.

I mention this because living near the sea is something I like. I grew up near the sea and when I had small kids, I moved back to being close to the sea. I didn’t move to the sea on my own because of the shock of having small kids….we went en masse.

For those who believe in astrology, I am a water sign, the last in the chart, Pisces, the opposite facing fish. 

Not sure what this really means, but I guess some of the characteristics I share with this sign. Sometimes, I have difficulty making up my mind, sometimes I have clarity, sometimes I do not. 

In all honesty, I have not really looked up the characteristics of a typical Pisces. 

For example, I was born the day before my Mother’s birthday. As a small child, I approached life in a very linear way and could not at that stage comprehend a year and the cyclical nature of it. So consequently, I spent a little time confused as to how my Mum gave birth to me, when my birthday was first. 

The point being my Mum was different in so many ways to me, so typical characteristics are like everything else, an enormous spectrum. I choose not to really get involved with it.

My overall point, actually, if indeed there is one, is the fact the star sign is a fish and I like to live near water.

I am always a little more at ease when I know I can be near a body of water.

Where I differ hugely from your average fish, is the fact I am not a strong swimmer. I am unaware of any fish which does not possess the propensity to be at one in its watery surroundings. I would like that, but do not have it.

I can swim, after a fashion. I like to swim underwater, although cannot scuba dive as my ears do not equalise beyond 4 metres and even, that is painful, this is an annoyance, as my sister and her husband have a dive school in Paihia, New Zealand. 

I can do several strokes ok….but not for long. I obviously expend too much energy too soon and would not be good if I got caught in a rip tide or had to swim to shore from a considerable distance.

Not that I plan on doing either of those things within my lifetime if I can help it. 

If I did, my life would shorten considerably more than I would like.

When I was 8, a friend and I persuaded a young couple in a cinema queue to take us in to see the film which has meant, I have not embraced the sea possibly as much as I would like. 

This film is of course…….JAWS

For a certain generation, this film has done more to upset our minds in the water than anything else. Yes, I know Great Whites don’t occupy the English Channel. Yes, I know the chances of being attacked are slim and that sharks are an important part of the worlds eco system and should be protected and understood more.

BUT, I can be happily swimming and diving about, when out of nowhere the bow of the cello scrapes along the bass string in my head and the unease spreads throughout my brain

quicker than anyone in the water can shout Plastic SHAAAAAARK!!!

I tried to read the book, not sure if this was before or after the film. It challenged you on the sleeve of the book to see if you could get past the first five pages. I couldn’t, and that was without the musical score. 

I am better now as a full-grown adult with more of an understanding as to what is going on inside my head, I am pleased to say, but the unease is always there.

The second part of the issue of being a rubbish fish, is I am appalling in cold water. I am fine until just over my knees, but after that, I am terrible.

I have been lucky enough to have swum in the warmer climes of the Atlantic, Pacific & Indian oceans and have loved frolicking and body surfing in Mautauri Bay in NZ and Mirissa in Sri Lanka, but where I live has waters which remain cold and cynical all year round.

Which leads me to wanting to conquer my fear of cold water. I have read a considerable amount of info on the benefits of cold exposure. My appreciation of Wim Hof and all he has done for people’s health mentally and physically is enormous. 

So much so, I have endeavoured to use the Wim Hof Method (WHM) to try and give my appreciation of cold exposure a big rethink.

I have always admired those people who are able to just get into any water no matter how cold and just swim. My brother does this in Lake Neuchâtel in Switzerland. 

I admire their fortitude and mental strength and I want some of that.

Last March, I started to have cold showers. My normal shower first and then switch to the full cold and see how long I could last, whilst also taking deep breaths in through the nose and exhaling through the mouth.

If you are starting this and you have not read about the WHM, then the advice is to start putting your body under the cold water gradually, and then have full immersion for 5 seconds. Then each day increase the time spent under full immersion by 5 seconds a day. After 30 days, you will be able to manage 2 mins and 30 seconds of cold exposure.

You may well be asking yourselves why on earth anyone would do such a thing. To a certain degree, you would be right. However, the benefits far outweigh the cons.

The Cons: You feel uncomfortable and cold for a short while.

The Benefits: Your vascular system becomes engaged, which shoots your body full of adrenalin and into fight or flight mode. This makes you feel alive. This is good stress as it is only for a short time.

Boosting your vascular system goes hand in hand with boosting your immune system.

Being able to withstand these colder temperatures allows the brain to clear out any toxic detritus swilling around dragging your thought processes down, which in turn helps with your mental health. 

This is why, people swim in the sea all through the year, or go open water swimming in lakes etc. The way it makes you feel is extraordinary. Having this cold exposure creates in us a chemical balance which makes us feel wonderful and, I use this term advisedly…epic.

This is what I wanted.

My cold showers have been up to 5 minutes for several months now. A warm shower to do what I have to do for 2 mins, then 5 mins cold and full immersion. Although I do have to say when you have a bald head and it is the closest to the shower nozzle, the brain freeze can be quite extreme, although I am gradually getting used to this.

Doing breathing exercises, obviously not when your face is upturned towards the nozzle, helps pass the time and reinforces the good chemicals cascading like a furious waterfall around your body. You exit the shower feeling like you can do anything. This helps to build the resilience.

I knew I needed to utilise the resource a mere 1.5 miles away. 

The mental blockage of being terrible with the cold water, a less than elegant and strong swimmer and the John Williams beautiful but terrifying score from Jaws were all still playing a part. 

Whether it was the natural way of things, or the fact it was the beginning of the year, I do not know. It doesn’t really matter. The fact, I made the decision on New Year’s Eve to go swimming in the sea the next day to bring in the New Year, was the most important thing.

Not early obviously, I am not utterly bonkers, but at a good mid-morning pace, around half ten.

My wife and I took the dog and headed to the beach, with a towel and some sea shoes in hand. 

The outside temperature was 12 degrees Celsius, which is ridiculous for Jan 1st in the UK, far too warm. I have no clue as to the temperature of the water, but think it is around +6 degrees C.

The wind was an issue, as it was whipping the waves to be a bit more forceful than is comfortable. 

I was on the verge of being really disappointed in not going in, the fear of being dragged out to sea on my first venture played a part. In fact, being dragged out to sea on any other venture also springs to mind. 

I then spotted some people who were ready to take a dip. I asked if they minded me tagging a long and they said yes.

They were not going swimming, as it was too rough. I was happy to hear this, they would bathe as much as the waves would allow.

Now was the time. I noticed the four other cold exposure enthusiasts all had neoprene gloves and boots. I just had my lil gripper sea shoes from my sisters dive shop in Paihia NZ and a pair of shorts.

I realised soon after why ankle boots are a good idea. The swell of the sea dragged the shingle up and down the beach and it rakes over your ankles like a popping gun.

 Stepping foot into the sea for the first time in Winter was truly not as bad as I had envisaged in my mind. 

Before long I was up to that area of your body which, for a man, has a habit of retracting to save itself from the cold. My scrotum shrunk into a pea sized walnut. At least, I think it did. It felt like it. I thought it prudent not to openly examine on a public beach.

The most important aspect of all this, was I was able to bear what the sea had to throw at me, and by that, I mean the cold, the waves knocked me over a couple of times.

 It was nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be. Undoubtedly, the cold showers played a part in preparation. I lasted approximately 10 mins of sitting and covering myself with the cold sea.

I came out of the sea utterly euphoric.

I had conquered my fear of the sea cold, probably not of Jaws, that fear is ongoing and being looked at by several medical departments…..

As I type, my neoprene gloves and boots are on their way to me for the next sea immersion.

I can see why Wim Hof does it, I can see why these, mostly women do it. I can feel how good it is for you. I can feel that chemical goodness course throughout my body and I want more of it.

 I will not do it every day, but certainly 2/3 times a week is a realistic goal. The people I went in with asked if I would do it again, so we have arranged to meet and take another dip. It really does help having others do this, if nothing else, for moral support.

I will continue with my cold showers alongside my breathing, meditation, qigong & tai chi with the added saltiness of the sea. 

It is all helping to give me a greater understanding of my mind and my body.

My wife bought me for the festive season an unusual gift. A Cryotherapy session. I suspect, it may just be a therapy which makes you cry……! 

I will be put into a sealed chamber and be subjected to a temperature of -85 degrees C, with just gloves socks and shorts for 3 to 4 minutes.

Now that is cold exposure. I shall let you all know how I get on with that, when I have plucked up the courage to book the appointment.

I guess we shall see if Wim Hof is right and, in the cold, I find the doorway to my soul.

Dynamic Qi Press Event - Wednesday December 15th

“We are all in the midst of a modern stress pandemic, where toxic stress and anxiety have become so common to have become normalised. In particular, the Covid pandemic has opened the doors to an unprecedented mental health crisis.

My wish is to help individuals and groups to reconnect to themselves, learn to manage their anxiety and stress so they can live a more balanced and fulfilled life , this is what our minds and bodies need and deserve.”

— Tim Johnson - Founder of i-Qi-coaching

"The good man is a friend of all living things"….Mahatma Gandhi

“The good man is a friend of all living things…”

— Mahatma Gandhi

Friday November 12th saw me for one night, and in the smallest of ways, feel how a person feels when living on the streets.

I took part in an event organised by the Brighton & Hove charity Off the Fence, called the Big Sleep Out, to try and sleep under the Brighton stars and raise some money to help with the homeless and women in crisis.

As I have exchanged my corporate life for one of simplicity, compassion & balance, I have suddenly had a whole area of my head which can think of other things and not just the next presentation. 

I had met the founder of the charity at a networking meeting the previous week and he spoke with great verve and passion about the work they do with the homeless, enabling shelter, showers, exchanges of clothing, toothbrushes and paste and an ear to listen and a compassion to lean on. 

I signed up for the event when I got home that afternoon.

I have no idea what I expected, in fact I was in the enviable place of feeling I could embrace whatever was in front of me.

The venue for the Big Sleep Out, was alongside St Peters Church on a place called the Level in pretty much the centre of Brighton & Hove. It is now almost like an island surrounded by main arterial roads into and out of the city centre, with eateries and shops to help the nights fly by in an orgiastic display of drink and food….should you wish of course. 

As a homeless person living on the streets of a city centre, you are really at the vicissitudes of the passers-by and their whims. More on that later.

There were just shy of 100 of us in total and our enclave was surrounded by crash barriers and the patrolling presence of security. So, as you can picture in your mind, we may be testing those homeless waters, but were far from taking a deep dive.

Part of the reason for the security, was the fact this was the largest attendance the charity had sleeping out. Also, two of the patrons of the charity who were also sleeping out, were Graham Potter the Brighton & Hove Albion first team manager and Bruno Saltor, the former Capitán and all-round legend of the club, with one of the first team coaches Billy Reid. 

As these were high profile individuals, the club donated the security.

I arrived around six in the evening carrying a ruck sack, with a sleeping bag stashed in, a plastic sleeping bag overcoat and a big blanket my Aunt gave me when I was travelling in my late teens. This blanket was large enough to encompass me and I hoped keep me warm. There was also a stack of flattened cardboard boxes we could use, to at least keep our backs dry. There was much activity going on as people built their shelters for the night. I found a place next to a guy called Matt, who was on the board of the charity. I rather liked the simplicity of his venture. He had a cardboard box which he was able to tuck his head into whilst his body and bag etc were slightly more open to the elements.

I had chosen to sleep out, rather than build a shelter, probably laziness on my part, so when I opened my eyes, I could see the stars. What I had not banked on was the ridiculous light pollution, which meant I had to cover my eyes with the peak of my hat and my hood. So, the view of the stars was abandoned. Still this level of discomfort, light and noise pollution, was what homeless people put up with every day.

On my other side was a BBC journalist called Alex, who also had chosen the ‘out in the elements’ option. Alex was talking to many people that evening for a programme she is making for BBC Radio Sussex to be broadcast on Christmas Day, I believe.

Alex got some excellent interviews with former homeless people and the patrons of the charity.

I spoke with two former homeless people there that night. One whose name I have forgotten who was sleeping that night and another, whose name I did catch who was lending his support but going back to his flat. Which when I heard his story, I cannot say I blame him.

His name is Chris, and he is originally from Leigh in Greater Manchester approximately 260 miles from Brighton. It happens with many homeless people, there seems to be a gravitation towards the south and the coast. A slightly milder climate is one very good reason.

Chris spoke of how he had been on the streets for 24 years. At this point my jaw dropped at this length of time. Most of those years was spent trying to feed a heroin habit. This made my jaw drop further. How the fuck was he still alive?????

I had no doubt Chris was telling the truth. He had the head of someone who had been battered by the weather and the teeth of someone who had not eaten properly for years. The front of his upper and lower teeth were missing and the decay enveloping the surrounds. Having a heroin habit, I imagine also contributes to this. Especially as his body got used to the repugnance the drug would be mixed with.

He was properly thin, and his cheekbones protruded with great angularity, almost willing anyone to take him on in a show of great bravado.

In truth, I had always been too insular to speak to the homeless. Part of this was to do with being at a loss as to what I could do. Partly I was just plain scared that I would empathise too much, and this would inflame my middle-class guilt. Yes, you guessed it, it was all about me.

I had given food, sometimes cash and donated to charities, but this was the first time I had really conversed with a homeless person, and they were not even homeless any longer. Man, my timing is poor.

Chris, I am very happy to say, had been helped by the Off the Fence charity, he had been to rehab and for the first time in several attempts he was off heroin and has been for the last four years. He now had a flat he could call home and was making himself very useful helping others in similar predicaments. The first six months in his flat, he slept on the floor instead of the bed, because he could not get used to the comfort.

I asked him how on earth he coped, day after day of just trying to survive. Part of it, he said, was to do with the fact he was addicted, so had to carry on, to feed that addiction, which perversely helped keep him alive. The other thing he said which struck a chord, was he just lived moment by moment. He did not think of the future, he did not lament the past, he just dealt with the minute he was in and traversed that….and so on!

The biggest value I took from our conversation was his sense of humility. This is a man who could have given up, his early life was a classic example of abuse and neglect, but he just kept going no matter what state he was in.

He gave me great food for thought, I was very privileged to have met him.

Overall, we were wonderfully lucky with the weather. Being November I expected there to be little treasures of freezing cold and rain showers. As it turned out the temperature did not drop below 9 degrees and the light rain had stopped by eleven that night with the wind thanking us for our time and going in search of alternative areas to be blowy in.

One of the highlights for me was meeting the management team of Brighton & Hove Albion and talking to them about football and Graham Potter’s use of emotional intelligence in his work. I was desperately trying not to be a fanboy. Not sure I succeeded entirely.

I spoke of the light pollution earlier. As the night wore on the noise pollution just seemed to grow. Remember, this is a Friday night in a city with two Universities, plus the assorted having-a-good-timers.

I am not sure I slept, I did for a short while, but not too long. I did experience a real stillness in mind and body without succumbing to sleep. I was warm enough. Merino wool cycling socks, underneath big woollen socks, thermal underwear top and bottom, several layers with a warm coat. All this tucked inside a sleeping bag, doubled over blanket inside plastic sheeting.

The cardboard was certainly keeping my plastic covering dry and the hard ground was encouraging an honesty from my back. I felt almost serene, well for a while at least. Was even able to examine that meditative state without ruining the moment.

Between the hours of midnight and four, the noise picked up. This was the throng of people leaving bars and clubs in various states of disrepair. Alcohol and certain drugs making for a heady mix of disquiet. Many people walking home, trying to get buses and taxis, to take them to their slumber.

The overriding sense of this to me was, the tone of the voices. It really did not matter whether it was male or female, the tone was the same. A mixture of grandiose and laughter, with an undertow of aggression ready to rise to the surface at the smallest perceived slight.

Being 54, I do not get out much into the city centre around those hours. I am at the stage where just the thought of it fills me with dread. I am very happy for this to be a domain for the young and bright-hearted. I had my time and now I don’t have the energy.

The next day I was speaking to the second ex homeless person, whose name I shamefully forgot. It ties in with the sense of aggression which alcohol and some drugs brings out in people. She was telling me of an incident that had happened to her and her boyfriend as they tried to sleep in a shop doorway. This incident is by no means unusual, I am sad to say.

In the early hours of a Saturday morning, they were set upon by five men, all drunk. They were being punched and kicked. A delivery driver who was waiting to deliver to a nearby shop, saw what was happening, and he went to help. For his efforts, he had an empty Jack Daniels bottle broken over the back of his head. After this the punching and kicking stopped and they walked away laughing and joking at their exploits. Apparently, they had attacked five homeless people that night. The Police didn’t do anything to help. The delivery driver was taken to A&E and had many stitches and was not allowed to do his job any longer.

I am unsure as to what happens when people drink too much, and they turn aggressive. Obviously, the inhibitors in all of us get switched off, but to have the level of aggression to want to hurt someone, especially an easy target like a homeless person surely comes from a troubled time and confusion over their feelings. There is always a root cause for this, no matter how random and egregious the act may be.

I was awake and up by five. Another effect of being older is the trip(s) to the lavvie at night. I had deliberately not drunk too much liquid before slumber, but by that time, my bladder was knocking vociferously at my abdomen wall demanding to be drained. If you are one of those people with the bladder like a camel, then I envy you. Actually, it is extremely annoying, especially when you are in a queue for the urinals at the football. There is always some old fellow who will piss for their country and then have enough left to annex several small European lowland countries. Bloody infuriating. 

They may, of course, have a prostate issue, which if so, I sympathise, but couldn’t they wear a prostate awareness badge for me to see……!!!

One of the beautiful aspects of waking up early is hearing the birds and there were plenty to be heard. Also, when you are in a group of people there are always a few restless souls, blearily assessing what is happening. Especially as the ground is actually really hard to sleep on. Really not sure if people realise that….

I spoke with the Albion first team coach Billy Reid, who was more entertaining than anyone had a right to be at that time.

I also spoke with ‘El Capitán’, Bruno Saltor, a man who, I have stolen this next phrase, so forgive me, but it is perfect: who, if your daughter brought him home as a prospective husband, you would wonder whether your daughter was good enough for him.

We wiled away an hour stretching and chatting. Fanboy alert, one of my favourite moments, was when I was doing a lower back stretch, so was squatting with my feet flat on the floor. When I looked to my right Bruno was copying me in the stretch. Just for the record, I went first.

We spoke about his transition from club captain to coach and how he must learn and start again, training methods and mostly about meditation.

We briefly conversed on Instagram the next day, but that is where I left it. He needs his privacy from the likes of me. But he really was an example of an excellent human being, and my man crush deepened a little.

Another homeless charity arrived around half six to set up and provide us all with a morning bacon and egg roll. It was incredibly welcome. 

I didn’t ask whether they did a vegetarian/vegan option, really unsure as to whether that is a choice homeless people make. Something to find out I guess.

Around 8am, I packed up my stuff, and said my goodbyes and caught the bus home.

The experience gave me the merest glimpse into what spending the night in a city centre was like. It has thankfully given me a different viewpoint. The people who sponsored me, did so with great thought and generosity. I had hoped for a minimum of £100, I raised just over £400. The charity raised £20,000 and this was then doubled by a local company. This will help many initiatives. The winter is obviously the worst time for the homeless, the rain and the freezing temperature ensure, you are very damp all the time and can very rarely warm up. This it appears is the biggest killer and is really so unnecessary. Charities like Off the Fence and the work they do are like golden lights for the homeless and women in crisis of cities and towns throughout the world.

The biggest takeaway I took from the experience and no, it was not a large pizza from over the road, was, whilst it is really good to empathise, it is a bit pointless to constantly do so, it sucks the energy from you. The best thing to do is have compassion. This gives you energy, it gives the person you speak with energy and enables you to see below your eyeline and face the reality. 

So, if you do not already, the next time you come across a homeless person, stop to chat, treat them as an equal, donate some food and don’t forget a toothbrush and paste. 

We all need to feel like a human being. None of us know their story and we should never judge the situation without knowing the circumstance. Most of us are only a few short mishaps from being in a similar situation.

Thank you for reading.