FYI: This post is unapologetically romantic. It’s throttle therapy in prose.

I remember my life in London a few years back. I wouldn't bother picking a particular month — even year: they were all the same. My mornings felt like a starter motor spinning but failing to ignite — only draining the battery. My evenings felt like an engine running on fumes. I knew there was a ton of fuel in my tank, but no way to put it to action.

London is a great place, but I was suffocating. Short gulps of freedom on holiday only made it worse — because you inevitably come back. Low-voltage life.

Any of that rings a bell, huh?

I was very lucky to find my cure — the spark in my plugs. I never felt any attraction to motorcycles, considered bikers pretentious assholes. But three years ago I was in the mood to try something new, and a one-day motorcycle “Compulsory Basic Training” sounded cool.

That’s where my ride began.

Oh, I remember the first training day — just one day for fun, no plans to continue. It looked as easy as riding a bicycle. A 130kg bicycle where I need to twist the throttle with the right hand, gradually release the clutch with the left hand, slightly engage my rear brake with the right foot, and balance a low-speed wobbly takeoff ('cause I have no guts for any speed yet).

Then there was the first ride on a rented scooter back home — 15 miles through busy London roads with zero road experience, and “what the hell am I doing with my life?!” screaming in my head all the way. I was terrified... but awake. Never been so happy to get home. Everything felt sharper for the rest of the day — even the air.

Then came my first rented motorcycle (with gears), missing an intersection sign, van cutting across my path, with no time to brake, miraculously twisting the throttle and shooting centimeters in front of the hysterically beeping van. It took ten minutes and two cigarettes until I could even look at the bike again. It was all totally my fault, and “I must pull myself together and focus” was pounding in my head.

Then came my first ride on big roads, overtaking a massive lorry, turbulence around it pushed me back and forth like a leaf in the wind, I heard the rattling and hammering of this metal beast — literally at arm's length — the air smelled like engine oil and my own fear. I didn't feel brave. But presence was the reward. My brain shut up.

I miss the intensity of those first experiences. But somehow the panic turned into focus, and noise — into music.

A couple of years later, I am doing close to 200 km/h on the German autobahn on the blue rhino of a bike. Cars flash by (some even overtaking me, Germany is crazy). There is no panic, just a laser-sharp focus — my heartbeat is strong but steady. I'm relaxed — no way I keep it for a full-day ride otherwise.

This 105 HP beast is my co-pilot. I handle strategy, the bike handles tactics with only a soft touch of my hand. One twitch of a muscle, one mistake, and we pay in blood and oil. It's not reckless — it just demands skill and a calm mind.

Then a car changes lanes right into me without a war declaration (no signal) — the driver clearly didn't see me. Even if the helmet helps, my well-protected head would be very far from the rest of the body. But I anticipated it, planned the exit up front. A swift and precise swerve to jump between lanes, a quick glance over the shoulder just in case (I already knew it's empty) — the lane is mine. I avoided a crash by ~50 cm. I eased off for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and got back to normal cruising. This minor inconvenience can't ruin my good mood today.

I remember I smiled, comparing it to how it felt before — my experience with a van in the first months. I know, the whole thing sounds reckless. But I never lost the lessons the van near-miss taught me. No zoning out. And “ride like a ghost” — as if nobody sees you. I was ready for this car's swerve into me, noticed the danger in a split second ('cause I expected it), and executed the escape plan.

It demands constant focus. It's a deep meditation for hours per day. No thoughts — just the road, full presence, full trust in the bike. At these moments, I feel truly happy.

I'm not advocating for anyone to take big risks to feel alive — just describing the feeling of pure focus when the stakes are high.

It's already a long post, so I'm not going to write about the bike hopping side to side under you off-road, crossing rivers, practicing emergency stops at 80 mph in a corner — and using it on the road a few months later to save my ass. Or riding through 0-2C rain from London to Münster. These were intense three years.

Now I'm going round the world on my 300 cc donkey. Slow, steady pace, camping, exploring remote places, rain on my jacket and bugs in my teeth. It's a different vibe, requiring peace of mind. Mood changed, the focus and clarity stayed.

I didn't get this peace for free. Damn, riding has changed me completely. It taught me to regain composure in the face of fear. To trust. To take firm action when the situation demands, and let go of control when it's not necessary. All the stuff I never learnt before — simply had no reason to. But most of all — I can stay with my thoughts for days. Demons used to show up after minutes. Now they need to book an appointment.

Maybe you can also find something to light you up, to rev your engine. It should be risky in some way, well outside of your comfort zone. That's how your brain shuts up. Modern life's noise can't keep talking over your focus anymore. That's when you feel unapologetically alive.

It's no sermon or spiritual awakening speech. I'm just a dude who found my way through questionable decisions, doing what I love.

Find what works for you — and twist the hell out of its throttle.

See you out there.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

Looked at the map and spotted a random place not too far: fields, seaside, not much happening — perfect place to explore.

And you know what — that was the best day of this year! I felt young again! Which made me wonder: why so, and how do I get more of?

That day, I enjoyed the sounds of the sea, jumped a couple of streams, got stuck in a swamp a bit, ate lots of wild berries (still alive today), helped a fish to get back to water (don’t choose England to evolve walking, if you can chose Hawaii, stupid fish).

And it all felt amazing. It took me a while to realise it, but the joy I felt was familiar — that’s how it used to feel like when I was younger. We were all young — what seems like just yesterday — we truly enjoyed the world, we felt unstoppable, we were unstoppable! I imagined what I’d feel and do if I got here at 12-year-old. I’d be over the moon, collecting seashells, climbing rocks, swimming, running. So I did — except swimming. I’d just thrown an angry-looking fish back into the water, and it’s definitely out for revenge.

So why can’t I feel like a child anymore, what has changed? Maybe I can’t feel the world so intensely anymore, but I will surely try!

I dug a bit into it. Turns out, there are many reasons why people go numb over time.

1. Part of it comes down to predictive coding. Kids have no prior knowledge — the world is full of surprises, and every new discovery lights up their brain with dopamine. Adults have “seen it all”. True. Though, depends on the level you look — there is always something new if you look a bit deeper, just be curious to look for it.

2. We’ve learned “how to be adults” by copying adults. Social norms pushed to extreme, seriousness, fear of looking foolish, losing reputation — none of that is biological! We absorbed all this from society pretty late in life — which means it’s totally possible to unlearn this bull-poop. And how liberating it is as well — not constantly feeling watched. Easier said than done for sure, but such a great goal to pursue.

3. Another one — fried reward system. Years of phone addiction, recreational drugs (yes, even caffeine), chasing the best experiences in everything from the softness of your mattress to the assessment of the rating of each movie before watching. It all devalues the simple pleasure of finding a cute seashell on a beach. Yes, you have to expose yourself to “normal” life, sometimes boring — it’s a part of it.

4. Trauma, stress, depression. It’s hard to tell what is a reason of emotional bluntness and what is a consequence. But yeah, stress is a big deal. And it’s hard not to be stressed managing life in London, desperately trying to make enough money for rent and food. Which is another reason to move away from this mess, or at least openly admit there are options, but we chose to stay accepting the trade-offs.

5. Another big one — lost (or as Johann Hari puts it — “stolen”) focus. Inability to focus on one thing, mind constantly jumping around, needing more stimulation — makes it impossible to achieve any noticeable change in any of the above. Your introspection is offline, you can’t immerse yourself into any simple experience anymore, your brain screams for a shot of fast dopamine — and you end up looking at your phone. Familiar?

What it all means: yes, the reasons are real — even objective. But also they are in our hands. We can change. At least, that’s my plan. The fight is so worth it Feeling the world fully is just a different way to live, freedom from the mental prisons we’ve built ourselves. Break the lazy patterns, get curious. Love, try, make, break, run, cry. Make your heartbeat your religion!

And if someone calls me immature? I’ll take it as the best compliment they could give.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

I know, old topic. But not many discuss why we even search for meaning — do we need it after all? What is it in our existence that keeps us awake at night, asking “why all of this”?

There are several philosophies thriving on the lack of the grand meaning: existentialism, nihilism, absurdism. But they do not care about proving this fact, simply accepting it as given. And I personally agree with them. But then I think: what’s all this fuss about, and why do we even care?

I think (from my thinking and some background research) that the main component to that is evolutionary. In order to increase your survival chances, you should learn the environment, make predictions. It starts with the immediate facts: this bendy stick has distinct stripes and scales, so it will probably try to bite me. But as a creature gets more intelligent, it is able to comprehend more and more layers of complexity. And the main way of dealing with complexity — abstractions.

Instead of thinking about every case in isolation, you try to split the world in classes, groups, and then assign properties to them. When you face completely unexplainable events, like the sudden loss of a friend (due to a disease for example, but you know nothing about them yet), or violent natural disaster or even simple lightning — that doesn’t fit into your model of the world. You keep thinking about it. Because it’s important, understanding the nature of these events is likely to hold the key to controlling them, or at least finding a way around. It worked with the bendy stick with the eyes, right? But you are so far from comprehending the real complexity of it, that you hardly even try to go this way, and instead invent… a divine entity, God.

At this point, anything can be attributed to it. Your dog died? Now it’s with God. Stepped into shit on the street — okay, God, what did I do wrong?

Other people try to avoid going to religion, and invent half-way alternatives, and that’s how numerous life philosophies are born. They explain how you should live life, which is impossible without telling you why you even exist and what for. More comforting lies.

But let’s not dive into religion and philosophy. Let’s look at a simple example: an average child grown in a non-religious family. When you are small and just grasping on the simple ideas of the world, your parents expose you to the complexity a step at a time. They will not tell you about complexities of human relationships at 5, will not talk about the meaning of life at 8 —all makes sense, you are still trying to figure out why you should brush your teeth daily, and trying to stop wetting the bed at night.

You grow a bit, teens know a lot of superficial facts about everything, but hardly lived through any of them, but it’s work in progress. They are still guarded from the majority of life by their parents. Your goal as a child can be as simple as that: get good marks at school, get to a good university, build a career, and everything will be great in your life. The last part is actually never said aloud, parents understand it’s not that simple, but for the lack of any other justification — that’s what you hear.

You grow up more, separate from parents, get a job, live your life, maybe build your own family… and you start noticing weird things. Some parts of this picture you had drawn about life just don’t seem right. This world view was built for you by others, carefully selected, painted with all the right colours. But now it fades, and you start seeing through some bits of it.

Suddenly you realise money doesn’t make you happy. Yeah, kind of a known fact, but hard to believe until you go through it yourself.

Or look — friends change a course of their life, forget you. Something has changed in them — or in you?

You try to ignore the fact the walls of this cardboard house built around you started to crack. If I just keep doing my job, keep doing what people expect from me: everything will be great. Right? Right?!

That’s the first time in your life you face the reality — and there’s nobody to build more cardboard walls around you. Parents and other adults are in fact as lost as you are. They either indulge in comforting fairy tales, or are miserable. There should be a better way, you think, there should be a way out.

You start looking for the meaning of life. Read a bunch of books, talk to “knowledgeable people”. They give you a simple explanation, tell you what to do. Luckily (for them), it always involves you doing something for them, paying them money etc. If they are convincing enough — you join their group (religion, political party, or any other cult). And after that, you never come back, because you have nowhere to come back to — the crumbling cardboard house of your reality will crash, exposing you to the existential dread. So you are bound for life by the lies you accepted. And you will tell others how happy you are to have found this new way of life, how it has saved you.

But did it?

To me it looks like replacing one illusion with another. You might say: “if there is no meaning — what to live for?”. But why is it even relevant?! A bird lives happily just being a bird — doing its daily birdy tasks, not pondering its purpose.

Maybe it’s time to let go of your crumbling cardboard walls, and look behind it? It feels scary, doesn’t it? So was learning to walk or riding a bike. That’s what absurdists do, and seem to enjoy it.

Letting go of fake meaning makes you free to (and responsible for!) find your own goals in life, and define who you are. It lets you see how society puts its norms on you, which do not fit who you want to be. If you were to build yourself from ground up — maybe you’d just hop on a motorcycle and go around the world, huh?

Peeking behind the comforting walls is scary. But if you do — who knows what else you might discover about the world and yourself? Which other lies have you lived?

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

You won’t meet them in a club, not on a busy London street (or at least it will not be appropriate to start doing good to them in the middle of an underground platform). What tiny act would you leave behind, if you knew someone like you would find it?

I had an idea.

As a continuation of this entire blog’s theme, I decided to guerrilla-plant some treasures, sparks for people to unite around. Which came out in a shape of simple trinkets with random pseudo-philosophic messages (yes I can be a bit of an emo sometimes, so what?!) with a weather-proof notepad and a pencil. And put it right by the fire, so people can check in, share, and maybe feel a bit more connected.

After a month, I was surprised to see several replies! That felt amazing, like I’d started some secret underground society. But not the type aimed at taking over the power — just to cheer somebody up. The best type.

Thank you so much, who checked in!

I left this shrine for a couple of months. Next time I came there – the area was empty. No fake campfire, no notepad, nothing. Also there are updated signs around the park, some paths blocked with “closed” signs. Seriously, you can’t walk in a forest anymore, because somebody decided you shouldn’t. Tell it to our ancestors few thousand years ago, they’d rush to the place, battle-ready. But we are the obedient sheep now, and we will do what the almighty sign says.

So I suppose park workers removed my installation. It’s hard to imagine what was going through their heads. But hey — I hope they felt good, like fighting the Great Evil, restoring world order. Maybe I gave their day a bit of meaning. Assholes (I say this lovingly).

I don’t know — it’s just sad. Enjoy the sterile world, where every path is pre-planned and every tree is pre-groomed. And I’ll keep trying to show there’s a better way.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

This isn’t a story for likes or travel envy. It’s just where I ended up after chasing meaning long enough — and refusing to accept less.

If you’ve seen the other posts, you might have guessed I’m not exactly happy with the way things are. Sterile world, comfort forced upon us, culture of working hard only to spend it all on mindless consumption, hoping it would make you happy.

But I think I found a solution!

Before I tell you what it is, it’s funny to look back on the evolution, how I got to this point. There were few stages.

1. I was fed up with London. “Disposable friends” you meet on random socials. Cost of life — you work hard just to pay rent and food. Want some nature? Get polished tidy parks, where the only thing you are allowed to do is walk, and even that is limited: I was once kicked from Eastbrookend park for simply sitting by the pond. Apparently, it’s a big danger to the public — stay away from puddles, guys. I also got into off-road motorcycle riding, always loved camping — all of that is just not London. I was feeling progressively more isolated, lonely. Unable to find my place, to find my people. The decision took so long to come, but I aimed at moving out — somewhere an hour away maybe.

2. Once this settled down in my head, I figured I can actually move further. Why close to London? Started looking at places. York? Exeter? Maybe Wales or Scotland? All have pros and cons. All beautiful in their own ways. At the same time, I started considering leaving my job for a couple of years, or maybe switching career to something else.

3. As this idea was sinking in for a few months, I started looking further. Nothing is really holding me in the UK, so why limit myself? I started looking at EU. Spain, Portugal. Maybe even Bulgaria. A big move, a new cultural and language challenge. Felt more like a new beginning, fresh start. And it felt good. I still had some logistical challenges, locking me up in London (not fully resolved yet), but I set up the exit trajectory already, it was just a matter of where I’d take it next.

4. I was always curious about the idea of big travel, something challenging. But it takes time, you need to quit your job (and the sweet one I had is hard to find again — golden cage). So I never had the guts to commit. But I suddenly realised: that’s the best time for it. If not now – never. Considering my obsession with motorcycles — a big moto ride. It quickly escalated to RTW – Round The World on a motorcycle for 2-3 years. It caught my imagination so hard I could not sleep. But there was a voice of reason, nudging me: it’s a logistical nightmare to sort the house, storage for stuff, exit path and the return to normal life. I had no illusions here — that would be tough even before RTW starts. Rebuilding life later — even harder. It was bothering me quite a bit.

5. And finally, the moment of full clarity. Why am I clinging to a life I don’t even like? Why am I caring for storing the possessions that are holding me down? Why am I listening to the social narratives I came to fight recently? Pushing my own ideas and principles to the extreme, I realised: burn the safety net. I should shed ABSOLUTELY ALL POSSESSIONS, except for the motorcycle and stuff on it. That’s it. Nothing to return to. No plan for “after RTW”. And I felt so… free. Don’t get me wrong, it still scares the shit out of me. I know, trying to sleep in a tent somewhere in Mongolia, all wet and cold, I will regret this decision at times. There will be a massive mood crash after a few months when I get exhausted and novelty fades. But I will push it through. I will have no life to return to, only the one to build.

So that’s basically it. I am starting to sell, give away and throw away stuff soon, massively. Tyler Durden would have been so proud of me (if he were real). I am converting my good old Honda grass-mower of a bike to a world touring buddy, packing and… just going. Just a basic idea of the route — no particular schedule. Just the path.

The road, the challenges, the exploration — all of it, real. I’m scared, I’m excited. Is it the right path? No idea. But it’s the one I chose now. If nothing else — I’ll know I really tried and didn’t stay still.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

But does it all matter?

How did people live for 99% of the human existence (300k years)? Especially before farming had spread (the negligible last 5k-10k years) – yep, hunters and gatherers. The goals in life were pretty straightforward: get food, maybe save a bit for winter, build a hut and wrestle a couple of bears. Find a partner and make more hunters and gatherers, yes. Sure, there was a dominance hierarchy — but it was built on skills and strengths, not on lies, politics, and social games.

What am I trying to say? life was… straightforward. Don’t get me wrong, it was tough. But people worked as teams, actually cared for each other. They worked on immediate needs, not two-year-old projects in an office somewhere. And I bet they were happy. They felt happy (with dopamine flowing like vodka on a Russian wedding) every time they brought home a chunk of mammoth. And even more so when sharing this food, sitting by the fire together. The friendliest, most reliable and honest were chosen as leaders, as role models.

(The last two paragraphs are based on the epic book “Humankind: A Hopeful History” by Rutger Bregman)

So I believe their lives were so much fuller than ours. Yes, everything is safe now: food is in the Tesco around the corner, shelter — just rent it. It all comes down to money — and you need plenty. For that you need to work, doing stuff you don’t care about. That’s the only “survival” left in your life — and you are already sick of it.

When you’re not working — you are bored. Humans are naturally curious. We are driven by the desire to explore, we learn, we play, we improve the lives of those around us. So you invent new challenges just to stay alive. And you start looking for the next problem to solve (since they don’t come to you naturally anymore in this confortable convenient life).

Hm, what can I do for myself? My house could be bigger, I hardly squeeze my collections of shoes and traffic cones in it. Oh, and the clothes could be louder, to show ‘em all how bright and vibrant my personality is. And bleach the hair. No — pink! People around will finally see my deep inner world and validate me, accept me, and admire me!

But it’s all fake. None of it solves actual problems, none is urgent. It’s your curious resourceful self trying to pick up the next battle in the sterile world. Helping others is absurdly hard nowadays, especially in cities: everybody gets suspicious and tense if you do anything for free — it just doesn’t fit their worldview anymore. So you start endless self-improvement, which only inflates your ego, makes you focused on yourself.

So here you are. Fighting endless battles you don’t actually care about. You come up with a new goal, like going to the gym, losing weight, a new hobby. But none of it sticks: after a few days or weeks you give it up, feeling like a failure, weak and powerless. But that’s exactly that: you know deep inside, none of it matters. What’s interesting — you’ve never even consciously thought about it. You were handed the path, the script to live your life, which you never questioned. Ridiculous, isn’t it?!

And damn — the system is strong. The moment you resist the standard narrative — you lose the job, lose money, you can’t pay rent and buy food. The system rejects you. Not because you are lazy or weak — you would be happily hunting, foraging and building a small shelter in the woods. But it’s all forbidden. Land belongs to someone, the rules on hunting, fishing and foraging are very strict. Yep, the things our ancestors were doing for millions of years — are ripped away from our hands. You are forced to play by the rules set for you.

So, let me ask again. Are you truly free? How can you escape this mess? I found the answer for myself, but that’s a whole other story.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

It might feel like we are protected, like we are cared after. But what if I tell you, that this narrative is bullsh… wrong?

If I ask you — would you let your 8yo child (even if imaginary) go and play outside without supervision, or go to a shop 10 minutes walk from home — your hand would automatically reach to the phone calling the police on me. Because you have a feeling the world is so dangerous, there are all sorts of maniacs, pedophiles and clowns with red balloons on every corner. Fun fact: your child is 2-3 times more likely to be struck by lightning, than abducted on the street.

Multiple countries attempted to build more adventurous playgrounds. Germany has put risky tall structures, and keeps upgrading more parks. Netherlands had playgrounds made of broken cars and other garbage! (seriously, look up “Skrammellegeplads” – just don’t try to say it out loud). And you know what? The injury rate is 3-4 times lower on those! Because kids are not stupid, they assess danger, they make decisions, they learn from each other. These are all the skills we are so methodically stripping from them – where else would they learn?!

You probably used to play outdoors on your own, when you were a kid. At least I did, a lot, since like 5, and it was the best time ever. You might say “the world has become so much more dangerous recently” — but it’s bullpoop again, the stats show a sharp decline in crimes against children on the streets.

So why do you think it’s so dangerous? Because of mass media. Mentions of violence make our amygdala scream “danger” and lock your full attention on it — the only thing social networks and news agencies care. But we didn’t evolve to learn from every bad thing happening around the entire bloody world! I opened The Guardian yesterday. The top articles are: children starving in Gaza, somebody got killed in London on the street, somebody poisoned a summercamp. “What a terrifying world”, I thought.

“Stolen Focus” by Johan Hari explains a lot about all these problems, if you like to dig a bit deeper. But anyway, chances are — your sense of risk is massively screwed up. And this constant fear is shaping our society.

And now look at your life. It’s a playground, consisting mostly of your work and home. Where everything is so fluffy and convenient. Let’s avoid the path through the park — someone from this city of millions got killed there once, three years ago. Another airplane crashed somewhere in India — let’s avoid them completely. It would save you a taxi trip to the airport, which is much more dangerous statistically.

But at least now you feel safe. I agree, it’s worth it. Lock yourself up at home. Your mental health is crumbling, but a handful of pills should fix it. Perhaps you would die of a stress-induced heart attack or stroke at 50, but at least you’ll die safely.

Imagine being free of this anxiety — how much simpler life would be. Go take this trip to Africa. Or jump with a parachute. Or ask your boss for a promotion (I’ve heard someone got shot for it — or at least it feels this way).

You won’t live forever. But you can waste your whole life trying.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

How comfortable is your life? Is it fluffy enough? You probably woke up today on a mattress loaded with springs, soft pads, unicorn hair, and mother's kisses. AI controlled blinds let the sunlight softly touch your skin. Wale sounds from the speaker have faded away. Then you pressed a button on a coffee maker. Oh wait, you could even programme your coffee machine to start automatically! Saved you an entire button press! Now you are planning how to invest your newly obtained wealth of 2 seconds of your life.

Then you slip into stretchy pants and glide into an office where the temperature’s tuned to divine precision.

That's the life, isn't it? Factory-assembled happiness in 10,000 easy payments. But does it make you happy?

What if I tell you that it actually steals joy from your life? Hard to believe? Stay tuned, like and subscribe — if you somehow find a way, which would surprise me a lot.

Think about some big things you bought for yourself a while ago, like last year. Maybe a big mattress with the memory effect (without a speech effect though, so it will never tell you where you’ve put the keys – but it remembers). A new car? This new coffee table. You have it all. Even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections, proof they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous people of wherever country (my respect, if you took the reference).

It certainly brought you much joy to buy this stuff, anticipating how it would turn your life for the best forever and ever. And first days you used this new razor with 57 blades — our skin had never felt smoother— and it was so refreshing!

Do you feel the same now?

I’d bet, just based on neurobiology 101, that you came back to the dreaded base level. Hedonic adaptation is a bitch, your sensitivity to all this goodness drops, and you feel the same as before. Now it’s time to buy something else, isn’t it?

Only now you have one more “thing”, which you need to maintain, repair, replace periodically. What’s even worse: now you can’t live without this coffee freshly brewed for you when you woke up.

And the shitty coffee from a simple machine you had before — now tastes like cow piss. At least you convince yourself that’s how it would taste — if you feed coffee beans to a cow, and then manage to catch this ultrasonic soon-to-be burger to get a sample.

I diverged. Now you can tell the difference between ten coffee blends. You are so refined and full of culture, feeling like a sommelier tasting old wines.

But think about it. You’ve been happily drinking this cow piss coffee for years, you enjoyed it — as much as you enjoy the new one.

Surprise, you have trapped yourself into buying expensive beans, owning, repairing and occasionally replacing the expensive machine. You need a bit more space on the table. When you move home — it’s another thing to pack. It’s all just suffocating.

And for what?

I had this revelation recently. I like travelling, camping too. Inflatable mattress is the largest and heaviest part of my kit. If it gets punctured and I can’t fix it — I am gonna wake up unreasonably grumpy like a barbarian, more inclined to village pillaging than enjoying nature.

What if I taught myself to sleep on any rough surfaces, in any positions. And you know what happened when I tried? Not much. I slept all night, slightly sore neck and shoulders. Few more times, and I’ll sleep as well as in the bed.

I did the same with cold in winter, leaving a window open, with nothing but an empty duvet cover over me. It took a couple of weeks of gradual exposure, and here I am, sleeping at 15°C — I didn’t think that was even possible, but my body adapted quickly.

Feeling like yeti, I am much more ready for winter camping now. Can also save a few pounds on house heating.

What am I trying to say? Comfort is a trap! It only makes you happy in a short term, adds crap to your life you need to clean, fix — strips you of your freedom. It adds anxiety over travel: “Will there be comfy beds and pillows there?” Guess what: you can sleep on the floor, having a rolled towel under your head, and you’ll be just fine.

Just imagine it: a life free of “things”. All the saved money means you can invest it into something meaningful, finally build this nuclear shelter you always wanted, or a tree house at least. Or you can work less. Take a pay cut, quit the job you hate, and live the high life pulling weeds and chasing chickens — finally free.

Real life begins when your neck hurts and your coffee sucks.

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

Let me share my recent story.

I was in central Wales. My travel style: pick random interesting points on the map and go there to explore. I found a cool looking photo of a water dam. Target locked, satnav configured, I took off.

The dam was massive — you could ride across it, around it. No people. Great views. The area is so wild… that there is no phone signal at all.

The route to the dam was fun: miles of small country roads heading north. Once I reached the dam, I wanted to continue north — coming back felt like a waste of time. Having no Internet, basically no map of the area, I set off wandering around. After 30 minutes of riding, and passing by the dam twice (not sure how it happened, but I managed to ride in circles), I finally found three bikers by the road.

They listened to my story, laughed at the “city boy” a bit, and gave directions to the nearest village. There I got a fresh breath of Internet, which I so desperately needed… but did I?

Since then, this thought has been buzzing in my head: who am I without the Internet, GPS, my phone in general? I wouldn’t even be able to get around the corner near my home — I’ve completely lost my sense of direction. But more importantly: maybe I want to get lost occasionally, find my way out, discover hidden gems off the beaten path. Ride around the city until I see a familiar road, and the puzzle pieces connect in my head.

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Navigation takes a big chunk of our brain, we evolved chasing prey for miles until it collapsed from exhaustion… and then we had to find the way back! If I get away from home for a mile without a phone — that’s home now, I guess. We need to keep our brains trained — really looking around, noticing unique landmarks, building mental maps.

You know what? I’ll leave my phone at home, and just walk somewhere, and see what it brings. If I never write again, ignore this post – and please, don’t die the same way I did. :)

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me

And you, my dear screen-bound reader. Look around. What do you see? I bet there are walls, and most likely – around you. Or a metal cage of a car or a bus. Or maybe even worse – underground (flashback of noise, crowds and absence of ventilation on hot summer days).

We sit in our concrete boxes (paying most of the salary to rent), staring at the screens full of colourful pixels. Our environments are so sterile, so safe, so unprovoking and curated. And we happily consume the content somebody generates for us all day instead of living our own lives.

Remember last time you were outdoors? And not in a local crowded park, where all plants are cut and put in order like chess pieces on a board. In the real outdoors, a proper forest for example. Can you still remember what it feels like—to actually be in nature?

I do.

When I was around 5-8, we lived in the countryside, in a village. We were growing food, had a bunch of rabbits, geese, chickens. And there was a tree in the middle of it all. No, The Tree. A gorgeous Tree, giving tiny but sweet pears, size of a plum, thousands of them – my favourite end of summer treat. The Tree was so massive (or I was so small), and I felt some kind of connection to it. I imagined it as my guardian, shielding me from rain and sun.

I could be playing under it all day with my toys (more like a box of trash by the modern standards, but kids always find creative ways). One time I made some tea from its leaves and cold water, feeling so grown up and wise drinking it from my bright yellow plastic cup.

It was almost 30 years ago. I haven’t been there since 8, but I really hope The Tree is still standing, bringing joy to somebody else.

And oh how I loved camp fires. Our family used to go “into nature” every other week or so in summer, and even in winter sometimes – usually going to some forest, sometimes on a river bank. I was always responsible for the campfire, foraging wood, starting the fire and maintaining it all day. Now I understand it was the smart “child labour” tactic, but I enjoyed it tremendously. Fire always mesmerised me.

We once came with friends, one of them was a head of a fire department. He saw my love of fire, and jokingly pointed to a big tree chunk with some roots and a hollow, and said: “if you can burn it all down – I’ll make you a head of all firefighters”. Oh he underestimated me. I brought all my knowledge and enthusiasm to it, making fire around the trunk and in the hollow, thinking through smart pathways for oxygen supply into the depth of it, planning which parts need more heat to do the job faster.

The tree was ashes, but I wasn’t made a firefighter, for better or worse. I kind of knew it was a joke, I was around 9 I suppose, but not that good picking up sarcasm. But it didn’t matter, I already got my reward – the pride in the accomplished hard task, feeling like a fire mage all day.

And what about you? Did you have anything like that? Even if not – it’s not too late to make the new memories. OK, I’m not saying everybody should become a forest dryad. But it’s not all or nothing, you can feel this connection, even if temporarily.

The photo on the top is my solo camping trip this summer. Just for one night, as it’s all the time I had this weekend. But that was definitely worth it.

If you are reading this post on a good sunny day – stop and ask yourself: “maybe it’s time to feel some sunshine on my skin?”

If you ever feel like reaching out — whether you have something to share, or just want to talk — I’d be happy to hear from you, stranger. This isn’t about followers. It’s about finding kindness and similar minded people in a loud world.

📮 the-last-campfire@proton.me