Diabetes. I haven’t mentioned it in a while, but of course it hasn’t gone away. Dealing with it everyday is consuming enough that I don’t really want to waste more thought on it. Anyway, the first couple of weeks were easy – my blood sugars were good – and then they started getting erratic – spiking massively even though I hadn’t knowingly changed anything. Well I’m sleeping lots this time so I know that’s not the culprit and I don’t feel physically exhausted either. My insulin hasn’t gone bad. The only thing I can think of is I’m missing some nutrients which is changing my microbiome. This week I’ll focus on pre-bolusing, injecting longer before I eat to try and flatten the curve.

I left Spille and enjoyed paddling along a headland where a line of mountains met the sea. From there I cut across a bay past the sprawl of Durress, a big tanker anchored in the middle. It was warm enough to take my top off, the soft heat of the autumn sun warming me like the dying embers of a fire, glowing still, but losing heat with every second that passes.

Romanticisation: to believe that something is better than it really is. That’s the dictionary definition anyway. But what defines how good something really is?  Unless one believes in some absolute measure of goodness, nothing is intrinsically good or bad, instead how good you believe something to be defines how good that thing really is. Thus this definition is flawed – how good you believe something to be and how good it really is are the same thing.

I’m not talking about moral goodness here, rather goodness as a measure of quality, by whatever values you choose.

For example, paddling across a bay can’t be said to be intrinsically good or bad. If done in the middle of a storm it wouldn’t be intrinsically better or worse than a calm crossing. One’s belief of how good those crossings were determines how good they really were, and this is the only reality.

Yet if one saw value in crossing in the storm, I think this would be classically labelled as romanticisation. Why? I think because most people believe goodness is defined by happiness, and since one probably wouldn’t be happy crossing in the storm, that crossing wouldn’t be good. So to see value in it, to think it was good, is to ‘believe it was better than it really was’.

But we can shift our values away from happiness. For me, romanticisation means shifting from judging how good something is by happiness, to how romantic it is.

What is romance? I’m not talking about romance in the sense of love, but rather the ‘quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life’. I think it is a recognition of beauty. By its very nature it is ineffable. It’s a feeling, and it transcends language.

When we look out to sea, or watch the sun set, or gaze over a mountain view, what is that sense of beauty? This mystery hints that there is something more to life than what meets the eye. Something that transcends our ordinary human experience.

Perhaps this points towards some higher level of reality – a greater consciousness or God (the absolutist view). Or perhaps it stirs emotions buried deep in our psyche from years of myths and legends, which were themselves created in part to answer existential questions.

I came to write all this because I was theorising about the way I think. I’m not suggesting we ought to live like this, rather it’s my attempt at explaining the way I act. I’m suggesting that I used to follow the following framework subconsciously, and I’ve become conscious of this. Just a theory of course, and perhaps a narrative that I’ve created to explain my actions that in fact doesn’t come close to the truth.

So what’s the framework?

For instance, what is better, a night spent in a hotel, warm and happy, or a night camping on a beach, where a storm rages, you’re tent gets broken and you get no sleep?

1. Accept what I’ve outlined – the only reality of goodness is the one that you believe in.

2. Dissociate yourself from the present and observe the beauty of the moment. At first this may take some time because emotions are powerful. E.g you may be miserable and angry when cold in a broken tent in the storm, but step out of the moment and look at yourself like your a character in a story and notice the beauty of it.

There are several checks to consider:

1. Narrative. This whole process is about telling ourselves a story and believing in it. One should aim to live life like a story. All stories are romantic, whatever happens.

2. Emotion. Emotion is key to romance. When we listen to our emotions we say a decision comes from the heart. Therefore you should always follow your heart.

3. Memorability. Generally the more memorable something is, the more romantic. And I’d say experiences conventionally regarded as ‘bad’ are more memorable than those regarded as ‘good’.


Is this a good system to live by?

The advantages of living like this:

1. Resilience. It is like a coping mechanism because it turns every situation in to a positive experience. Some things take more time to heal, but with time the beauty and romance of anything should come out. Think about people who have really bad things happen to them – they usually say even if they had the choice, they’d go through it all again, no regrets. Life is just a story.

2. Future. Since nothing bad can happen, fear of the future is now completely irrational.

3. Connection with your emotions – you’re living from your heart.

The problems:

1. Nihilism. Since nothing bad can happen, and the future is assured, you stop caring about it. This includes morals.

2. Detachment from the present. You start living for the past, doing things that aren’t enjoyable in the present because you have the knowledge they’ll be good romantic memories. You spend a lot of time reminiscing those romantic memories.

3. Knowing when to stop. If ‘bad things’ are good, there’s no reason to ever consciously change. For instance, even if I’m not enjoying this adventure, the loneliness is romantic, so why stop?

4. Conflict with the head. Life like this won’t make reasonable sense, and that causes inner conflict.

Authenticity is important. I’d never plan to camp in a storm, because it wouldn’t have the same effect. A story has to be genuine and authentic to be a good story. In fact I suppose my approach is to not plan, and therefore have more adventurous and romantic experiences as a result of this unpredictability.