The Viking, on the roof of the 4x4 in the snow, puts up a giant antenna — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide
Hummingbird, the icon of the practical guides of The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

What do I do with my strength when there’s no more fighting?

A warrior who lives

You don’t give up your strength. You give it another job.

The keyEvery evening, count three times your strength was used for something other than fighting.

“I used to be a warrior who survived. Now I’m a warrior who lives.”

Chapter 23 — Jazz, Dark Side

When it happens to you

You’ve spent your life using your strength to hold on, to defend yourself, not to fall. And now that there’s no more war, you don’t know what to do with it. So you invent reasons.

Why calm makes you uneasy

The strength isn’t the problem, it’s what it has been used for until now. As long as the brain links power only with fighting, it manufactures fights to feel alive. It isn’t missing a lesson: it’s missing proof.

Rule

You don’t give up your strength. You give it another job.

How to keep count, in 4 steps

  1. Every evening, 3 lines. Three moments in the day when you used your strength to build, protect or calm.
  2. Not great feats. Tiny things. I fixed the door. I kept quiet even though I was right. I carried the neighbour’s shopping. I stuck to my decision without raising my voice.
  3. Three, every evening. Even on days when you only find one: you look for the other two, and it’s the looking that does the work.
  4. Reread after a month. That’s when the proof shows up, not day by day.

⚠ Not to be confused with the comedy journal

The comedy journal, guide 09, is for putting an absurd scene at a distance: it tells a story. This one tells nothing, it counts. If your 3 lines turn into 2-page stories, you’ve switched exercises without noticing.

What it changes for you

After a few weeks, the brain has a new piece of proof: being strong and being at peace aren’t contradictory. That’s the proof that was missing, and no amount of reasoning can replace it.

How to practise

One month, 3 lines a night. Then you can switch to once a week — the record is enough to keep the link alive.

Remember

I used to be a warrior who survived. Now I’m a warrior who lives.

You may be wondering

I can’t find anything to write the first few evenings.

That happens to everyone, because we never look in that direction. Start with yesterday, it’s easier to see than the day you’ve just lived.

Does this mean I have to stop defending myself?

No. Strength that protects is exactly what we’re counting here. What we take away is the fight invented for lack of anything else to do.

And if my day was a disaster?

Then write what you protected in the disaster, even if it was yourself. It counts, and it’s often the truest line of the week.

Watch the hummingbirds

Watching the hummingbirds means changing your point of view.
Seeing things from every angle.
Accepting every part of ourselves. And of other people.
And laughing about it.

A hummingbird has every colour. So do we. Our shadows and our light.
You take one step to the side: green turns pink. Then gold.
Nothing has moved, except you.

What a practical guide is for

Trying out a tool.
Changing your point of view.
Laughing at something that weighed on you this morning.

What it isn’t

It isn’t therapy.
It isn’t a diagnosis.
It isn’t a courtroom: nobody’s looking for a culprit.
It isn’t a rulebook for good behaviour. You do what you like.

What it’s for

Accepting that we’re human. And fallible.
Our shadows. Our light.
Taking the drama out, to melt the resistance.
Not judging ourselves. Not judging others.
Laughing about it. It works better, and it’s more fun.

Nobody gets judged here. Least of all you.
We don’t know anything you don’t. We just wrote some tools.

Where these guides come from

Nobody made them up. They came out of a novel, chapter by chapter — in the order I learnt them. Not in logical order: in the order life threw them at me.

What you get, end to end:
Not getting stuck in the middle.
Not having to prove your worth.
Understanding the other person without carrying what’s theirs.
Spotting what keeps repeating.
Setting the limit, and holding it.
Naming the manoeuvre, which is enough to defuse it.
Getting out when the judges are also the accusers.
Listening to the body, which answers before we do.
Sorting out what we keep.
And finally: choosing where we’re heading.

I only saw the logic afterwards, reading it back. That’s why it holds: nobody drew it up in advance.

If something feels too big for you, see a professional. A guide is a tool, not a doctor.