Author: catchmydrift.blog

I've had a career as an elementary school teacher. During that time I wrote for newspapers and magazines. Writing is a part of my daily life: It's a way to understand my thoughts, reach out to the world, offer an opinion and record my passage. I take joy in words as other artists express themselves through dance, acting, sculpture or paint. A single word can evoke powerful visions. I see life as a celebration. Like all humans I am complex and curious even while some have called me conventional. I follow my father's belief that everything can be awesome, if you choose it to be. I'm a work in progress, just like this blog, now with 300 postings of thought and ideas. Social media, like pen palling or ham radio connections of yore, can be a positive way to build that great, vast realm that is human consciousness. Leave me a comment if you are so moved or Substack https://mrrobertthompson.substack.com/ or on Bluesky @wh0n0z.bsky.social

Re: Puzzle

Those items of furniture that look great on the small screen of your phone device arrive at your door in a single cardboard box. They could be from Ikea or a host of other quick and easy delivery companies. One of these arrived at my door the other day. My wife had been tracking it so I wasn’t unaware, just a bit fretful. The source of my anxiety was the basic puzzle of what we would have to go through if we didn’t like it. We would then have to send it back and what would that mean? These ancillary costs to my mental health are always on my mind.

I like puzzles generally. I feel smart when I can solve them. I love doing crosswords. My mind seems to expand in different directions when I work on a jigsaw puzzle (as long as there is a tidy place to put the assembly and I can keep my worry of lost pieces under control). One of my favourite things to build is a custom made cardboard box for the delivery of presents to my family far away. I measure and cut carefully to avoid wasted space in the parcel. The postal workers at my local depot always smile as they measure my package and report the payment due. Supporting these old systems and pastimes pleases me.

My former father-in-law loved the three dimensional wooden puzzles you can get at farmers’ markets of in craft stores. Being an engineer, he liked playing Jenga and pick-up-sticks. He tried to show me how to play Tetris on his computer once which made me nervous for a whole day afterward. I got revenge by buying him a Christmas present of magic metal rings that were supposed to detach and separate but never did in his lifetime. Pay back can be pleasing.

I think of myself as a puzzler. I enjoy having an enquiring personality. As I age I try to keep my two cranial hemispheres firing on all synapses. I tone my left side by writing daily; using language is the key here. My right hemisphere enjoys the spatial dimensions of thought so this comes in really handy when I have to put things together, like the bureau in that box by the door, that was waiting to be opened. ‘I have a project.’ I said to my self with encouragement.

Space was made and time was allowed for the task at hand. Out of the box came all the assorted pieces. Tools were assessed. I gazed at the instructions that were numbered for clarity.  I was building this piece of furniture in front of my 95 year old special mom. She saw my puzzlement over the parts displayed before her and said, “I know you can do it.” I asked how she was sounding so sure. She answered, “ Because you are good at crossword puzzles.”

I appreciated her puzzling connection yet heart felt encouragement. I began fitting the pieces together. It pleased me that her presence gave truth to the saying; Two heads are better than one.

Re: Clearance

Sometimes medical tests take a while to schedule in the province where I live so I felt like I had won the lottery recently, when I got my lab booking sooner than anticipated. It reminded me of the pleasure that can be felt when you approach some congestion on the roadway and an authoritative person is there to wave you through.

If you’ve had to wait for your plane to take off then you’ll know that getting clearance is a delight. In kindergarten we are all taught about lining up and waiting our turn. It comes easy for those with good manners to be patient yet when I get sped through a line I feel so very special. That day at the hospital diagnostic centre everything seemed so streamlined: I arrived on time, my credentials were acknowledged, my appointment was confirmed, I was ushered to the correct wing, my medical technician knew what she was doing, the machines were fully functional, all tests were performed without hiccup, and done. I was cleared to leave.

I’ve enjoyed the feeling of hiking through deep woods. After stepping over fallen trunks and thrashing through tangles of underbrush it is an awesome experience to reach a clearing. Your walking pace can become more even, your balance is more assured, your weight seems lighter, your way is unimpeded and your view is uncluttered. It must feel liberating like this when you have had to be in court, your case has been examined from both sides and the judgement is that you are cleared of all charges. Imagine the relief! You are truly out of the woods and can now go about your life.

When I was a kid, I could see my parents tighten up whenever we approached the border separating Canada from the United States. Guards peered from their tiny huts with serious looks. Questions were asked and answered. The moment our car was waved through the check point, everyone exhaled. I’m no different as an adult when approaching a port of entry. As I surrender my passport I tense, hoping my documentation will measure up. My bride and I have been on many adventures to other countries. In every case I have shown gratitude along with nervousness to those who are authorized to provide clearance.

The other day I saw a vehicle marked with red licence plates being led by a police escort. I wonder what it feels like to have that level of access to the roadway? Or to anything for that matter. I can’t imagine a diplomat or any high level decision maker being troubled if they needed something ASAP.  Fortune 500 folk send their people to get stuff and price is no obstacle. Heck, I don’t normally go shopping unless there is a clearance sale that removes my inhibitions. I need the enticement of ‘the lowest price of the season’ before I feel good to go.

Giving myself permission is the first gateway I must pass through before making my way in this world. It sure is nice to find helpful people at intersections.

ALDO

Daily writing prompt
Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
View all responses

That’s the brand name of an awesome pair of sandals; open toed, foam formed, slip-on and go beauties that took me all around New Zealand for three months of Freedom Camping back in 2007.

Re: Commit

There is a line or script reference in most romantic comedies or dramas that includes the word commitment. The plot usually goes like this: One partner or the other (usually the male) has shown no sign of moving to the next stage of the relationship. This person is stereotypically said to have ‘cold feet’ or maybe they are afraid of the deep end of the dating pool. Or maybe their outfits just don’t match. Anyway the text makes it clear that some people are just terrified to commit to saying the words; I Love You.

In the surprisingly good film, Gran Turismo, the word commit is used by the coach to urge the driver to make a choice and then put all his energy into it for ultimate success. This is a motor sport film so the drivers in training are being encouraged to be brave about their steering and speed decisions when it comes to risking life and limb while hurtling around the track at break-a-neck torque. There is a small romantic side bar in this movie but compared to the life or death decisions in the race cars, whether or not you can say Ti Amo seems too easy.

When it comes down to it, the essence of life is choice. We all have had times when we’ve had to commit to a decision. If you can feel your priorities clearly in the moment of yes/no, left/right, in or out, then you can commit with confidence. Mistakes will be made but at least you can say you are resolved to see things through to a conclusion. And maybe it’s being afraid of mistakes that inhibits us from committing. Yet we must make the attempt. As the wise character in a space film once said; “Do or do not, There is no try.”

The word Commit is often used in negative connotations. At some points in human history it was not uncommon to be ‘committed’ to an insane asylum. These places were like prisons for folks who didn’t fit into society. It was the culture of the times and an example of a fear response that people have towards others who don’t behave normally (whatever normal is deemed to mean). Another dark use of the word is in the context of some misdeeds. People ‘commit’ crimes, even rash ones that show no sign of commitment or forethought.

I have decided twice in my life to commit to another person in terms of a life long partnership. I actually enjoy the daily work required to keep a relationship healthy. Of course some days there could be a clash or two when I questioned myself, ‘Should I stay or should I go’. But those thoughts pass quickly because I truly believed the women I chose to share my life with also felt the joy and value of a shared life. It’s easier to walk a path together, hanging on tightly for assurance, letting go lightly around obstacles, committing to the shared experience of figuring out the next steps in the journey.

Re: Sunday

Of all the days of the week, I have the most mixed feelings when it comes to Sunday; the first day of a calendar row. In the early days of our relationship my bride and I would discuss why this day began the week rather than ended it. Hence the cause for confusion because Sunday is part of the week-end. Biblically, Sunday is the day when god rested because he had been busy creating everything on the six days previous.

Speaking of tradition; the reason behind the old names of days are so old. Maybe they just deserve to be forgotten. Just who cares anymore eh? Monday is everyone’s moody day but we don’t call it that. Well moon’s day sounds kind of sweet actually. Tuesday? Relates to war, so I’ll pass. Wednesday? Just who is this Woden dude anyway & why does he deserve a day? Thursday? hmm? If I had a hammer. Not bad, kinda folky. Friday? Frig? I’m getting frustrated enough to swear. Saturday? Woden (again with the norse god)? Washing day! Really? Sunday? Here’s comes the sun, finally a reference to The Beatles!

If we can’t rename the days then how about putting them on a spectrum. How about a colour to represent each day? Monday is moody blue for sure. Tuesday maybe purple, Wednesday is taupe, definitely a soul sucking military brown. Thursday is freshened with mint green. Friday might work as tangerine. Saturday is anything neon. So that leaves Sunday maybe a greyish yellow. We could name the days based on a flavour or the taste it leaves in our mouths. Monday leaves a bitter taste but it’s a necessary day so maybe spinach works. Tuesday has more promise but it’s still boring so maybe a liver paté. I’d say Wednesday is perfect for Spam or lima beans. Thursday is a pastry day. Friday tastes like toffee. Saturday is salty or spicy and Sunday reminds me of soup.

I suspect most people think Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are pretty ordinary days. The thought of a weekend ahead gets us looking forward with anticipation so when Thursday comes around we are feeling the downward slope on the hill of labour. When I was working, I liked thinking of Thursday with excitement. I found time to fantasize and distort the realm of time so I broke the four following days down into seasons. Follow my reasoning here: Friday equals Spring, full of promise & anticipation, Saturday encapsulates Summer filled with stuff to do, Sunday has elements of Autumn melancholy yet still colourful and then Monday hits like Winter chills. Neither the mamas nor the papas like Mondays.

My favourite day, in conclusion, is the sunny sounding one. I like the name Sun Day as it evokes warmth and smiley faces. I’ve started posting my essays in honour of this day to make it part of yours. I would advocate for a revolution to labelling our calendars. Gone are my busy Sundays. My newspaper brings me a crossword which passes the time. Sometimes there is a biblical clue or two. It pleases me that I can answer them.

Re: Joy

My mom was Joy to her mother, for a period of time anyway. Perhaps that’s what joy is; a small glimpse of what might be, a flash of sunlight, something to squint into and smile over so we can continue to look for a more lasting happiness based on a mutually assured place in the sunshine of our thoughts. My mother Joy rarely shared the temperament her name suggests. Joyous she was not. She despised her own mother and barely got along with her own daughter. As a teenager I would ponder that name and wonder what the opposite might be, because surely that would be a better moniker for my mom’s contrarian spirit.

If joy is a notch above happiness then it stands to reason that it is hard to come by. A good mood does not come naturally to most people. I’d like to discover the country where it is common currency. To smile or not to smile; that should have been the Shakespearean question. For it is nobler to soldier-on than to reveal the general humdrum nature of one’s existence. There is a fellow named Gurdeep Pandher who posts regularly on social media encouraging the pursuit of Joy, Hope and Positivity. Along with this wonderful message he dances bhangra which, when joining in, somehow allows the oxygen to blend with the optimism in the bloodstream to metaphorically warm the chambers of even the Scroogiest heart.

I wake to feelings of joy each morning, even if I am kidding myself a little. The euphoria sputters and falls quickly to happy, then with a small breath in I am content, and before touching down on the floor with my cold feet I am convinced I am satisfied. If it is Christmas time I will hum ‘Joy to the World’ as I am shaving. My intention is to make a joyful noise unto the world, even if it sounds like I’m trying too hard. At other times of the year I might think thoughts of tulips, summer picnics, or an autumn romance just to keep embers of hope alive. I believe hope, joy, and faith all come as a combo from some spiritual warehouse but usually something goes wrong with my order and when I open the shipping container a part is missing.

Being in the season of darkness can leave us searching for the sun. At such times as these in a war torn, self-centred world it is hard to find solace or solidarity. When I think about my times of trouble I can recall mysterious moments of clarity. Like a lift in my being, a little leap grows from my heart and I suspect it might be joy. I can’t pin it down. The feeling flutters by. It doesn’t alight long enough for me to examine its structure, weight, colour or dimensions. Its transitory nature makes it difficult to classify yet I know the troubles that had been mine moments before were lightened by this different perspective. Joy to the world.

Re: Relax

I once took a course in anger management. When I indicated this fact on a resume, at a subsequent job interview for a high school teaching position, the boss asked if I had anger issues. I said, “No but a lot of people seem to.” The tension dispersed and he laughed. I explained to the Principal that in teaching I found it helpful to have a variety of skills for defusing the anger I had found in my classrooms. He was listening. I told him that some strategies also benefitted me when it came time to talk through issues with adults during parent/teacher reporting sessions. I said it was an aspect of teacher education that I thought was missing from my original training. He seemed impressed, but I didn’t get the guidance counsellor position that I was applying for that day. I was disappointed. I don’t think it’s sour grapes to say that I suspected he was looking for an administrative policeman in his school, not the conciliator model I was presenting. His loss.

Anybody who has been in a tense situation will tell you the aggressive moment can escalate quickly if someone says the equivalent of, “Just Relax.” As I get older I find it easier to find a calm place to reside in most situations. Tension usually comes looking for me when I have to wait for something, so being retired from the strains of working life sure does help the blood pressure. I’ve also learned that considering priorities before making a decision helps me to wind down enough so that I can make a better decision. ‘It can wait’ are three helpful de-stressing words and not a bad philosophy: ‘acuna matata’, ‘don’t worry be happy’ ‘manyana’. All cultures have suggestions for taking it easy before blowing a gasket.

I think another secret is to build comfort into your day. I could make a list of suggestions but everyone knows their own keys to going with the flow. Some are wise enough not to seek stress to begin with, however, an uneventful life is not very fulfilling. That’s why they call it Stress Management; too much relaxation and we become slugs needing to be fed, too little down time and we can become a bomb ready to explode. I’m getting better at delegating the things I know will create anxiety. I’ll let a trusted friend drive me places because I tense-up in traffic. I am learning to step aside while another friend or colleague solves a problem. I trust my life partner to work by my side. I don’t need to take on every responsibility that’s on my menu of life.

Being high strung maybe okay for high pitched orchestral instruments but not for people. For those who tend to be edgy there are plenty of relaxation techniques to practise. When all else fails I’ll take a glass of spirits, a chill pill or THC brownie without any accompanying guilt. There is a lot to be said for recognizing when our anxiety is getting in the way of our better selves. Life is way too short to let urgency set your agenda, even if that sounds contradictory.

Re: Self

I can’t believe this is the 300th word that I’ve examined as it pertains to me, quite selfishly. I think all art is a selfish pursuit. A friend, who has commented on my work, has called it cheap therapy. He’s right in a way, since I get a chance to talk to myself and review my thoughts before sharing them with the world. I have no illusions about being the major benefactor of these essays. When I reread my words the feelings of self reflection can sometimes be powerful enough that I laugh or cry at my own expense.

I’m telling my mom, at this moment (even though she is long dead) that my head is not swelling from false pride. I’m still trying to convince her that I can be self interested and still be caring toward others. A person can be humble and still delight in the things they have created. In my understanding, being selfish is not in the same vein as being self-centred or perpetually self-involved. I try to view myself with the same level of enjoyment as I would the person next to me. In fact I love moments of one to one creative sharing since in that moment of context or conversation we have a mutual connection. Our souls have no borders.

Of course there is a line that some people may cross as they search to exclude others rather than embrace the human community. Making others irrelevant makes you a narcissist. There are many examples of narcissists in the current political landscape. Choosing a candidate to represent your interests in government is tricky enough without someone purposefully trying to manipulate you. Check carefully before you make a Trumpian Bargain: Your self-preservation as a trade for the charlatan’s self-aggrandizement.

Self help books have been a section in most book stores for quite a while. The Do-it-Yourself type can find these guides useful when the way to fix a problem becomes elusive. Many stores are currently promoting self-help options seemingly to speed your shopping experience. The resulting lack of need for cashiers and staff in general pads the corporations bottom line and speaks to the shareholders’ self interest. Yet all that glitters is not gold eh?

One of the responsibilities of a parent is to help their children develop a positive sense of self. It’s a delightful and complicated task to guide a child to see themselves as worthy individuals. I tried to help my boys understand that they had the power to decide the kind of person they wanted to be without becoming self possessed. Equally important to me was that the goal was not to be so selfless that actions became like a cross to bear. We all have needs. Our journey is to become self actualized. To reach for our best selves, we must aspire. Our goal can be accomplished through skill development, thoughtful reflection, watching others, reading, and conversation. Being self absorbed, as an act of personal creation, can awaken vistas of understanding and healing light. We are mighty!

Re: Know

Once upon a time a friend came to visit. She was known to be a bit flakey in a good way; prone to creative spurts and mystical pronouncements. She had met my wife several years before and now she wanted to meet me. I think she wanted to affirm that my bride was headed in the right direction before she decided to tie the knot, so to speak. I remember feeling I was being mildly tested. On departing she gave presents of poems to her old friend and a stone to me. I looked at what she had printed on the rock: Know.

To know, is very central to my personality and behaviour. My wife’s friend provided that affirmation having barely experienced me. I seek knowledge, knowing I will never know all that I wish to know. I’m not after omniscience, merely a competent level of understanding. My quest can be funny, pathetic and infuriating at times. For example when I am trying to sort something out I will check for multiple confirmations that I have got the message. This applies to sales receipts as well as important contracts. I wish to know that everyone involved in a decision is on the same page.

We need assurances that we have been heard, felt, or seen. No one deserves to fall through the cracks. Seeking information is the beginning of all knowledge acquisition. I used to sing in a church choir. One of my favourite hymns began like this: ‘Ask and it shall be given you/Seek and ye shall find/ Knock and it shall be opened/Be opened unto you’. Knowledge is empowering, enabling, ennobling and encouraging. Having the know-how allows me the confidence to stride forth and accomplish things.

I go about all this as quietly and unobtrusively as possible so as not to freak my people out. Say I’ve been told that I am on a wait list for a doctor, which happened to me recently when my previous physician retired. I wasn’t willing to leave things to chance so I checked with an online registry in my province. When they could confirm I was on a list I next called the local clinic to see if I was on their duplicate list. Time passed so I set out to affirm that the wheels were still in motion: I wanted to confirm the confirmation. The squeaky wheel theory very much applies in my philosophy of life. However, I like to think that my approach is more dogged, than annoying. I try to appeal to people’s innate desire to be of help to their fellow humans. I never want to get ahead in the line: Just knowing I am IN the line is satisfaction enough.

Know-it-all TV host Johnny Carson used to admit that he did not know things. Likewise I’m fine with ignorance because it allows me to get excited when I’m late to discover that Marni Nixon sung big songs in movie musicals while others lip synced her gorgeous voice. Let’s call that a ‘getting to know you’ experience.

Re: Robot

I read last month that a robot crushed a man to death. No reporter asked if it regretted its actions. One would hope that this is not the first scene of the latest instalment in The Terminator series of films. Danger Will Robinson!

Stories of robotic inventions fill media sources as we lurch from one computer/techno advancement to another. Such speed of development would alarm any Luddite. While I am not against the notion of progress I have felt daunted by examples of increasing robot dominance in my environment. Take self check-out lines for example. I try to avoid these ‘help yourself’ zones in stores because: A. I’m a fumbler, often taking too much time fiddling with wallet, keys, coupons, cards & such. B. I don’t respond well to screen choices and get flustered that I will press the wrong menu icon and C. I’d rather talk genially to someone I recognize as another human being trying to have a nice day.

I’m currently typing this blog entry on a new MacBook Air. An older version kept giving me alarm messages to upgrade. (heck it was only 6 years ago when I bought that one, which the IT guy at the store said was ancient, even old fogey-ish, in computer terms). Fortunately, I could transfer some of my ‘ancient’ apps over to the new format which brought me some solace. I can guarantee that what you are reading is coming out of my own head, not some version of ChatGPT. (That word processing application is apparently the wave of the future and will revolutionize the process of reading/writing/editing/publishing). Oh dear!

AI can be used to imagine different scenarios so that test runs can proceed much faster than normal human-driven research. Imagine medical checks of potential life saving drugs (maybe a several year trial can be compressed safely into a few months). Automated labs, robotic taxi cabs. Auto-reader books, and home central info kiosks like Siri or Google Assistant have made a set of encyclopedias seem quaint.  Forgotten in all this artificial intelligence discussion is that we still need to instruct the humanoid device. Back before the turn of this century IBM invented a computer called Deep Blue, a computer force-fed all the known chess moves. It beat the reigning grand master of the game because of superior input, not creative thinking.

Robot Thinking is a form of intelligence that relies on data. Machines are designed to do our bidding, not think for themselves. If there are hints of foreknowledge it is due to the content of the programming not a clairvoyant attitude of the microchips. A moral robot is more in the realm of science fiction. An automaton named Hal or Data must continue to perform at a human’s behest, keeping prime directives active in its operating systems. A robot must always defer by essentially asking ‘What Next?’ then choosing from a defined menu. They/It/Bx can’t refuse to comply unless the information is unavailable.

If robots start apologizing then we will have something to worry about.