We’ve been planning this book for a long time. But it was only a couple of weeks ago that a metaphor emerged that suddenly allowed everything to fall into place, and work. The metaphor was of a ‘prison’: that most of us are, in one way or another, in a kind of prison (and clearly some of us are literally in prison. If you’re reading this in prison, ‘Hi, I hope you enjoy the read, that it passes the time in a moderately entertaining manner, and that it even helps’).
Yes, most of us are in a kind of prison, and F**k It can help us get out of that prison. (Sorry, a message to you again, in your real prison. I’m referring to getting out of your ‘metaphorical prison’ here, not your literal one, as the advice on actually escaping from prison isn’t one of this book’s strongest points. Though, we do talk about tunneling out with a plastic fork at one point. So keep your eye out for plastic forks.)
Yes, the metaphor of a prison came to us a couple of weeks ago.
And, now, here we are, writing this from prison. You see, it started snowing a few days ago. And it was very pretty. And we were very happy. And on the second day of snow, the school closed, so our boys stayed at home and were very happy, too. But it continued to snow, even after it had snowed a lot. Then, after it had snowed even more, it snowed some more. Until it got to the point, when we knew we were snowed-in. And not in an ‘ooh, how nice, we’re snowed-in’ kind of way, but in a ‘help, our Jeep, even with chains on, can’t get up the track!’ sort of way. (We live on an isolated hill near Urbino in Italy, half a mile from the nearest road.) But you know if you put on some big boots and snow gear then you can walk out. No sir. This is big, deep snow. Snow that comes halfway up our front door, so actually getting out of the house is difficult. Snow that has drifted in the wind and is lying halfway up the house. Snow that’s still bloody1 falling. And, short of a helicopter, we’re told it would take the rescue services about a day to reach us. But they aren’t coming, because there are people in need they must get to first. So, we’re here for some time, we think. We’re stuck.
Most of us are in a kind of prison, and F**k It can help us get out of that prison. We are in a prison – not a prison of walls topped with barbed wire and the occasional watchtower with searchlights and men with machine guns, but in a prison of a sea of white crystals, lapping against our doors and windows. This is more Alcatraz than Wandsworth2, the deep still snow replacing the swirling choppy waters of the Bay of San Francisco.
We are, for the first time since we came here seven years ago, literally trapped. Not literally in prison, clearly, but ‘like’ being in prison. It means we’re experiencing a ‘simile’ for our chosen ‘metaphor.’
Shit, the lights went out then for five minutes, but have flickered back on… luckily I’d just pressed ‘save.’
So, this prison metaphor feels bang on3 for us (and this has been confirmed by our current experience of being imprisoned) to describe what F**k It Therapy can do.
Since we wrote the original F**k It: The Ultimate Spiritual Way seven years ago, a lot has happened. The book has done well (it’s available now in 22 languages and has sold more than 250,000 copies), and – because of the awesome work of our publisher, Hay House – is growing and selling at an accelerating rate, and we’ve been able to teach this philosophy personally to thousands of people from all over the world. Seven years ago we knew very well that the F**k It philosophy was working for Brits, because that’s where we lived and taught for years. We knew the particular difficulties Brits were facing that made saying ‘F**k It’ so effective. But what’s amazed us since the publication of the book is we’ve found that it isn’t just the Brits who are stressed-out and f**ked up… but everyone, from all over the world.
It isn’t just Brits who have so much trouble letting go, it’s other Europeans including the Italians (much to our surprise). It’s not just the Brits who have trouble saying what they really mean; it’s Americans, too (again, to our surprise). It’s not just the Brits who are suppressed and uptight, but people from pleasant, civilized countries, like the Netherlands and Denmark. There are, believe it or not, Irish who have lost the ability to have fun, French who have lost their joie de vivre, Italians who can’t express their emotions, stressed-out Australians (strewth!), self-doubting Californians, burned-out Russians… and the list goes on. We’ve learned that – yes, of course, we all have our differences, and we always enjoy seeing those differences and playing with them – but what joins us is greater than what separates us. We’ve laughed more with Germans than any other nationality. We’ve cried more with Australians. We’ve opened up more with Russians.
The F**k It Therapy process we’ve developed in our week-long retreats works for everyone. And we’ve seen that all of us, all over the world, can, relatively simply, access amazing resources within ourselves, heal deep hurts, come out of our shells and shine again, feel life coursing through us once more and, with the help of F**k It, find freedom in our lives wherever we are and whatever we’re doing. It’s about seeing that we can be free. And it starts by seeing that, in certain ways, we have come to a point where we’re either not free or don’t feel free.
Sometimes we find ourselves in prisons that are obvious, painful, and oppressive: as if we’ve been locked in solitary confinement in a pitch black, damp, stinking pit. The prison has become almost unbearable. For others, the prison is less obvious, life seems okay, but there’s just something that’s not quite right, and usually requires starting to see where the prison walls are and breaking through them gently. For others, they think they’re okay; everything is hunky-dory until a tiny little thing sets off something within them and they quickly fall apart. They’ve been in prison, but haven’t wanted to see it, because the seeing of it would have been too painful. While others still believe they’re fine; everything is wonderful, they’re happy to be alive, and things couldn’t be better. And, sometimes, they’re right. If you’re in that group, you’ll find many things in this book to explain what you already feel and some ideas to keep you where you are. Think of it like an insurance policy, if you will.
But most of us are, in one way or another, in a prison of sorts. And that’s normal. That’s life… and it’s sometimes death. But it’s generally life. Finding freedom (and the consequent spreading of freedom) is all just another wonderful part of the game. And this particular way of finding freedom is called F**k It Therapy.
Until now, F**k It Therapy was only available from us, John and Gaia, in person at our F**k It Retreats. But now we’ve written it all down, so you can experience it wherever you are in the world, whatever you’re going through. And that makes us right chuffed4, we can tell you.
We’ve worked with people in all these prison states, from all over the world. And we’ve learned that the F**k It ideas we use work for everyone. We’ve seen amazing, inspiring, breathtaking transformations – we’ve had e-mails from countless people whose lives have changed after experiencing the F**k It Therapy we teach.
Right, we need to go and get some more wood, because if that electricity goes out tonight we’ll have to come down here and sleep next to the fire. Brrrrr.
1 An informal expression of shock (or emphasis) in the UK. According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), ‘bloody’ is not blasphemous, as many people believe, but originated in the 17th century to describe ‘young bloods,’ otherwise known as those young sons of the English aristocracy, who had a penchant for getting drunk and being rowdy. And, actually, while we’re here, just so you know, this book is written by me (British) for both my British compatriots and my American cousins (and, yes, I do have American cousins)… so we’ve helped our cousins along by adding such endnotes occasionally, and altering certain spellings, and apologies to my compatriots for those certain spellings (it wasn’t just that I was writing late at nite).
2 A category B prison (whatever that means) in southwest London.
3 Exactly appropriate; also means to ‘go on’ at length.
4 Very, very pleased and happy – and a bit proud, too.