It feels strange to go sit in a coffee shop in a different country. I mean at least now. I did that for a year when I was working remotely but up until now, it meant I would be working — all the things related to software development -communicating with colleagues, programming, reviewing code, testing. Now I’m yet again staring into a computer, but I don’t have that big queue of work stacked up. I haven’t done any coding for three months. At first, I stayed in Prague — my hometown and I spent three weeks mostly chilling, exercising and writing.

It was a ride, after one year of strong habits — waking up early, programming and working for most of the day, exercising or socializing in the evening — I found myself battling long periods of idleness. My mood was suddenly all over the place and I had periods of intense joy, deep serenity and gratitude, but also a fair share of anxiety.

My plan for the three months sabbatical was to compensate for my year of remote work and a few years of full-time programming. My year of working remotely was amazing and it allowed me to grow in many ways — I could travel and integrate into different cultures. It inspired me and it brought new positive patterns into my life. Yet still, after a year of travelling and programming full time, I realized I need a change. A certain type of anxiety — that I neglect myself in some ways, was growing upon me. I spent way too much time staring into a computer, way too much time analyzing and planning. I had a strong urge to be social more and be more creative. Basically an urge to use the neglected parts of my mind.

So then I started to think about taking a break from work more and more. To compensate for my years of software development. Compensate in all the aspects — physical, mental, social. Not be sedentary for some time. Not be analyzing, rather be free thinking and creative and spontaneous. Be surrounded by people a lot, not be solitary, but rather be part of a group.

It can be hard to bring all those factors together. Giving up solitude usually means giving up freedom. A need for compromises appears. I also wanted to be social in a meaningful way, partying all the time wasn’t really what I was looking for.

And this brings me here — Lisbon, Portugal. I had several reasons to leave Prague. Long-term travel is always a good way to start a transformation. New experiences, new patterns make my mind more flexible and ready to adapt. It pulls me out of my comfort zone. I easily get way too lazy in Prague. I procrastinate, I daydream, I am way too scattered. And Portugal has a lot to offer. The energy, the chill attitude, the outgoingness. I want to incorporate these into my life.

The hostel life

After landing in Lisbon, I stayed in a well-reviewed hostel. I opened the door, immediately felt the busy and vibrant atmosphere, got a warm welcome from Diego (a happy Brazilian guy) and a free beer.

Staying there meant being surrounded by people all the time. New people kept bringing new energy to the place which was worth the repetitive small talk. Small talk is something I had despised or a long time, but I learned to cope with. I realized my dislike for small talk is to some level my own flaw — a lack of empathy and imagination on my side. I learned to embrace the rapid-fire questions of “Where are you from?”, “How long do you stay?”, “Where do you travel next?”, “Have you seen this and that?”, “What did you like the most?”, “What do you do back home?” and so on. Most of the time, I had great interesting or fun conversations, but I needed to learn to break the ice quickly.

I met models, engineers, artists, photographers, entrepreneurs, athletes, bartenders, students. We formed groups, walked around the city, did trips to Sintra, to Nazaré, to Coimbra. Meeting so many interesting people is a strange, even transformative experience. Life seemed to be running at a different pace. It was intense, in a good way.

The float session

In the last months, I started doing the sauna quite frequently and I found it had a great effect on my mood and energy levels, so I was thinking about continuing the habit in Lisbon. But I wasn’t too successful in finding a good place. Most of the sauna places there were gay saunas and I was a bit, hm, hesitant about that. But when looking into wellness, I found there were a few float therapy places. That is places that provide floating tanks for sensory deprivation. I’ve heard about those from many places — YT channels, a Vice documentary, podcasts.

I figured a floating session could be a great complement to reflect upon all the new experiences. You float in very salty water in complete darkness and silence for a long period of time. There’s almost no sensations and distractions. Physically, the session is good for your muscles, joints and skin. Muscles and joints benefit from the deep relaxation and skin is nurtured by the salt.

It’s harder to conclude how the floating session benefits the mind because you can use it in many different ways. You can use it as a mindfulness meditation practice to clear your mind. But you can also use it to actively think — plan ahead, reflect upon past experiences, ideas and so on. It’s hard to say which approach is more beneficial. In a long session, there’s probably a lot of time for both.

In my floating session, I opted for 50 minutes. I had some nervousness at first. The pod lid closed upon me and my mind was racing about all the what-ifs. How mentally stable I really am? Can I stay still for so long? What if I paid a fair amount of money to be uncomfortable for a terribly long time? There’s still some slight sounds noticeable, do they really come from the outside or do I imagine them? Do I trust my own mind?

I sensed my heart beating quite fast and strong. The body was reacting to this strange new experience. But then I started stilling my mind and relaxing. It’s so easy to sense all the tension in the body in the tank. The muscle tension feels awkward and unnecessary. I felt a tension in my legs and neck. Most of the body completely relaxed, only the neck kept resisting a little. Not surprising, since I always had stiff muscles in the upper back. One floating session cannot miraculously solve that. Still, the tension in the neck wasn’t too distracting.

My mind was frequently intensely thinking and daydreaming. Thinking about my time in Portugal, planning ahead, recent experiences. Then I alternated between a clear mind and planning ahead.

After what seemed like thirty minutes I started to relax even more. My inbreath and outbreath became ridiculously long. My mind was very still. After a few minutes of this deep relaxation, my inner vision started to go wild. I visualized a deep tunnel composed of nested rectangle doors. Each door was a little bit farther away, rotated roughly 45 degrees relative to the previous one. It seemed like I was slowly falling into that tunnel. I could not withhold this for long. Uncertainty kicked in. Where does the tunnel lead? It seemed completely neutral. It did not seem like a path towards the light, nor a path to hell. What it if its a path towards a bigger openness? What if it’s a path to schizophrenia?

Afterwards, I couldn’t help but think about a parallel with the Doors of Perception:

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.” William Blake

These thoughts, once again, caused a slight adrenaline rush. The relaxation was gone, breathing rate and heart rate increased, the vision faded. I was left with uncertainty. I longed for some comforting thought, for some stability in all the void. And that brought me to the idea of loving-kindness. I observed the relationship between a thought and my body. An unpleasant thought could easily increase tension, make my mind more scattered. A pleasant thought or vision brought a feeling of warmth and slowness. A wave of gratitude came upon me. That I am healthy, young, experiencing the world with all the possible sensations. That I can feel the sun, that I can encounter other conscious beings, that there are others who think about me and are interested in sharing their precious time with me. That I live on this paradise called Earth in this vast and cold Universe.

It was very easy to get philosophical. The thoughts weren’t really revolutionary but they were deeply personal. There’s a lot of truths and cliches out there that can be easily dismissed. Moments of realisation usually don’t provide a new unique insight, but rather a connection. A connection between existing ideas, or a connection between an idea and a deeper feeling. And then the “oh moment” comes. It could be a realization that you need to really start eating healthy, or be more present in life, or care more about the others, party less, party more, or have more unique, authentic experiences.

For me, the cliches that resurfaced were three. I should be deeply grateful for the relationships I have in my life. I need to keep slowing down in my life to avoid business and scatteredness. I need to connect with the outside world, seek the unique magical moments. The fallings of leaves, the morning fog, the sunsets, the dawns. These thoughts aren’t indeed extraordinary in any way, but perhaps in those moments, they were subconsciously connected to a myriad of past experiences and thus they’ve gained value. I realized that expression is part of a feeling. An unexpressed feeling is incomplete.

I thought about the people that crossed paths with me in my life and had a positive impact. Friends, family, co-workers, strangers. I visualized the faces, the key moments. I experienced a mix of gratitude, melancholy and longing. Or as the Portuguese call it — Saudade.

When the lights went on and the lid slowly opened I was very happy to see, to smell and to feel again. I realized that life should be celebrated. And that if it becomes grey, stereotypical and mundane — it needs to be shaken. It helps. Food for thought should be as diverse as food for your belly. Again, these are no unique thoughts, what might perhaps be unique is a connection between an idea and a feeling. Which makes navigating the whole landscape of feelings a bit easier. And also communicating and sharing with others.

Finding peace on an organic farm

My initial plan was to find work in a hostel. Being constantly busy at a reception or a bar was an intriguing idea to me. A bit scary perhaps, given that I’ve done the absolute opposite of that for a long time. But in this case, the fear only made it more interesting. Quite soon, I had a good lead. We met twice, there was an agreement, only some accounting needed to be finished. But days passed by, and then they told me they’re still figuring it out. Strange. I felt I needed to find an alternative ASAP and stop burning money.

I went to workaway.com, browsed around and check the “urgent” checkbox. I messaged all the 9 listings — hostel and organic farm volunteerings throughout the whole of Portugal. Volunteering via workaway usually involves bed and food in exchange for labour. I relied on that. The next day I had nowhere to sleep. I was sitting by the Tejo river, with my two big bags, occasionally checking the email. By 4 PM I had three replies. I was happy. I went forth with the coolest one.

It was an organic farm and a retreat quite close to Lisbon. It was situated close to a national park and from nearby you could hear deer, wild boars and maybe also wolves (I did not hear them although I tried really hard). When I arrived I could see a well-arranged garden with various fruit trees, two lovely cats roaming around and nice landscapes all around. Interiors were well designed, giving a nice and cosy atmosphere.

The life there was an ultimate antidote to anxiety. When there’s a clear schedule, there’s no space for a decision fatigue. I’d wake up, hear a bell, go do yoga or other morning exercises, have a great breakfast, work hard, eat, work hard, eat again, chill by a fire and then go to bed. Again and again.

Another benefit was a constant companionship. You never eat alone and you almost never work alone. It is a very tribal experience that promotes peace and security. All in all, there can hardly be a healthier lifestyle.

I realized that I want to ‘retreat’ in my life more often. In my past, I usually chose my vacations to be adventurous trips — challenging and intense experiences. This experience made me think I also want to seek quiet and peaceful places and for some time completely let go. I also realized I’d like to invest more time and effort into making my home more cosy and peaceful. I’ve neglected that for a very long time.