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Bon Journal

Electromagnetic energy

My friend from Kenya called me out of the blue. The call reminded me of how I've reverted back to the bad habits of modern city living, after I had gone meditating in her home two years ago.

Over a simple lunch, she alerted me to the negative aspects of living in London. Mobile phones, traffic, noise, people bombard us constantly. No wonder I feel beaten up when I get home.

The trading floor, a place where millions are made or lost, was a place I once called home sweet home. In Singapore, I loved walking around the dealing room and feeling the buzz. In London, I had the pleasure of moving from one dealing room to another. In Houston, the entire floor was a trading floor. But when I returned to London again, I started to hallucinate the incessant ringing of the telephones. I grew allergic to the trading floor and everything and everyone in it. The closer everyone was packed together, the less expensive it was to the company, and the more information (theoretically) traders and analysts could share. But for me, it meant receiving concentrated doses of everyone else's stresses. Instead of getting charged up, I got completely drained.

Now the same thing is happening: just the mere daily existence of commuting and travelling. Have I become allergic to London?

7 March 2002 Thursday