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: Cause

There was another shooting headline from gunplay in the USA. Also in my newspaper that day were stories of wildfires causing POTUS47 to complain of air quality. Both stories got me thinking of how people process what to do next, after bad things happen. Some folk search for an immediate cause, so that they can put disturbing notions in a box to be filed away. It’s always easier to blame someone or something than get to the real reason for the event that just happened.

When my father-in-law was approaching death, my wife and I tried to figure out how we could help each other through this pivotal moment. An apartment in the same building as her parents was rented so we could just be an elevator ride away. This was one of several details to work out over a two year span of time. It was complicated, messy, and draining on our emotional health. Blaming someone for dying borders on stupidity, yet my father-in-law was the reason we were gathered. I remember assuring my wife at one stressful moment that I was present for her, not for her father: I was present because of the man I called Will.

Finding a cause of something can be as difficult as determining a motive. The difference between reason and cause is not only a question of semantics but one of approach. Will had not earned my desire to be helpful in his palliative care, yet the fact of his lack of planning for his death at 93 was one of the reasons for my wife (his only child) to be in such a dilemma. As support structures were slowly put in place for Will’s care the burden on his daughter became less onerous. Others looking in on the situation showed varying degrees of sympathy. They might see a solution to the crisis by identifying the cause without measuring the impact of potentially creating further problems. Deciding what paths to take that are reasonable requires a deep dive into the needs and wants of many, not just the few. Ultimately priorities will be set.

Tumbler Ridge, British Columbia went through a heart wrenching experience recently, proving that death by gunfire is a global tragedy. Many politicians scurried around giving solace while trying to pin the blame on the various sources. The need to know what went wrong, had to be tempered with the needs of the survivors, responders, witnesses, and citizens. Responsible folk had to step up, regardless of how they felt about the multiple players in this real-life drama. Supporting the grief had to come first while everyone gathered because of something that repulsed their idea of a safe society.

Those wildfires seem to be beyond reason, yet suggesting that a boreal forest floor needs to be  swept regularly is blatantly unreasonable. We can be blinded by rage, or even discomfort, when asked to help in taking steps toward finding a solution to a problem. In this case the why of a heating planet is not as important as finding a way to save humanity.

Re: Entertain

The first time I asked a girl on a date was to see Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. When we got to the theatre, I discovered I hadn’t brought enough money. I bought a ticket for my date, got her seated, then I raced home to find some more cash. I missed the first 15 minutes before I was next to my teenaged crush. She smiled at me to reassure me that I wasn’t a complete goof, and even slipped her hand in mine when the ‘Raindrops’ scene came on. After the movie was over, my date said I looked a bit like Robert Redford. Lucky are the actors, for they will live on through the flickering pixellations of film.

A big part of a community’s culture is the way its citizens choose to be entertained. Whether it’s a sporting event, a gala fund raising concert, or a meet-up with a friend for a game of chess in the park, we have options for our amusement. Currently, I admit to more passive pursuits like watching television or taking my bride out for dinner and a movie but we’re lucky to have choices when it comes to incorporating enjoyment into our lives.

My 97 year old special mom can’t be without her Daisy Player (an audio book machine she purchased through CNIB). Many folk I know enjoy podcasts. My late wife tried to get me into audio tapes for road trips between Timmins and Thunder Bay but I can’t be entertained that way. Besides, in the case of those long distance travels, I already felt like a captive audience with 3 antsy kids fighting for territory in the back seat of the car. Give me a book and a comfy chair and I can be happily occupied for hours.

Things we find amusing can be entertaining, particularly if we are involved in the project. My dad would spend hours carving a face into a tree stump. I’ve enjoyed building things from large (a garage), to smaller folk art projects (a seagull named Webster). When I wrote for an arts magazine, people told me how important their hobbies were to them. Everyone works to pay the bills, but the things we choose to entertain ourselves with, are often the things that most reveal our character. Outside of our nine-to-five existence we become dancers, bridge players, club leaders, amateur thespians, collectors, choir members, and volunteers of all sorts.

The small screen (as in the smart phone) may be responsible for reducing our outreach into the cornucopia of entertainment choices. This is a pity, and a pit, in my view. My mother-in-law has fewer choices because of declining ability. When I see teens exclusively being entertained by their cell phones I think of wasted opportunities presented by numerous pursuits. It’s harder to find out what’s out there when you’re bent on measuring time by endless TikTok videos.

By exploring and nurturing the variety of recreational choices within our communities we get to meet others and learn more about ourselves in the process. Now that’s entertainment!

Re: Genius

Jesus was not a one-off. He was extremely well promoted. There have been many who have such intense light of being that they shine brightly enough to spark a domino effect of creativity. I have seen evidence that we are all Jesus in waiting. Sometimes the moment comes early in life, and we are a genius for a brief while. Consider the phrase, ‘his candle burned brightly, then was gone.” We can also come to our full potential in our elder years, it’s only a matter of time.

Sometimes we are allowed to be genius, or encouraged to be, or bullied to be, or find ourselves in circumstances so perfect that we rise to our fullest potential. Some perform miracles, or inspire them. We all have the ability to be part of a creative process. During my teaching career I had a specialization in helping those students who were on either side of the bell curve (sometimes called the Gaussian Distribution). When Special Education services were mandated by the Ontario government, school boards found they could get more money from the province by identifying students outside of this normative distribution. No one wanted to designate a child’s deficiency. There was also controversy when ten percent of students were considered gifted.

I’ve witnessed genius in all my students, because I wished to see the child not the label. One student may do poorly on every written test but shine when asked to tell a story. Others excel when movement is involved. I recall one fellow with fondness for the way he started campfires without fail during outdoor education classes. Another still holds my memory because she could organize a group activity within a moment’s notice. The question of how to define a gifted student is problematic. I agree with current thinking along the lines of multiple intelligences and spectral recognition of fluidity during one’s lifetime.

Some creatives have spoken or written about channeling energy. They may say that the song just came to them or this book just ‘wrote itself’. Baseball players point to heaven when they make it to base after getting a hit. Entrepreneurs believe their genius comes from plain hard work. I have come up with what seems like a brilliant idea on occasion and merely thought I’d finally caught a break! Quite often it’s easier to recognize genius in others than it is in ourselves. I’m sure you have your favourite grade A geniuses: Mozart, Einstein, Gretzky, Klein, Pauling, Jobs, Jackson, Hawking, Dorsey, Leonardo, Mays, Gandhi, Musk, Curie etc.–– The field is wide open through the ages and in all disciplines.

Channeling a force and making it work for ourselves seems to be the key. Where this comes from remains a mystery. The phenomenon of genius can frighten us or enlighten us. It doesn’t necessarily come from our DNA giving us a bigger brain, faster reflexes, or knowing how to play the stock market. I believe there is truth to a common consciousness: We’re one big brain!

While we wait for inspiration, let’s decide to use our gift for good.

Re: Date

In elementary school in the 1960s in Ontario, learning important dates was still a required part of the curriculum. Memorization as a skill was still admired. We learned poems by rote for crying out loud! Some dates in history of the world I have remembered from that time in the one-room schoolhouse in rural Markham. A person of a certain age can never forget 1066, 1216, 1492, 1776, 1867, 1917, or 1945, even if we weren’t alive then. Now I keep a journal so I can remember personal dates of significance to me: 1952, 1974, 1977, 1979, 1982, 1994, 2001, 2004, 2006, 2008. These are just numbers to some but when I look at them I see stories.

With search engines like Google we have the answer to questions about dates of origin, or any specific fact for that matter, right at our fingertips. If I want to know when television was invented I can ask Siri, Alexa, ChatGPT, or a growing number of reference robots who can provide the answer. I am aware of typing ‘who’ in that last sentence, as if to personify these technological tools. A recent film that humanizes robotics is M3GAN. The title character is a toy that gains sentience by bonding emotionally to a child. The movie over-stresses the fear factor when the underlying thoughts of questioning the value and control of artificial intelligence may be the key to humanity’s survival.

I wouldn’t want to date a robot. Yet sexbots, griefbots & robocops are apparently going to be the first AI helpers to be in mass production. The act of dating, in my human experience, has been problematic enough that I wouldn’t consider asking Amazon to send me a Companion (another movie I’d recommend). Film fantasies are one thing but expressing real life affections can be tricky. I was in an emotional dilemma when I found myself at fifty years of age trying to understand new rules about relationships, My first wife had died of cancer and I could have used a manual with an easy access index to navigate my life. There were stormy seas until I found my balance. It was smooth sailing once I found an amazing empathic soul. Lucky me as she has cruised with me these past twenty years. And we continue to feel like we are dating!

Currently, my bride and I go on dates as a respite from eldercare. We share our home with my wife’s 97 year old mother. She was born in 1929. Imagine that! When we talk of things she has a whole different perspective on time. In my view she hasn’t passed her best-before date seen as a warning on packages regarding freshness. She’s nearly blind so I bought her a pushbutton clock that speaks the time out loud to her. Her secret to success has nothing to do with eating dates (pitted or otherwise) but in recognizing important dates on the calendar and sticking to a schedule.

To think that in a few short years my special mom may reach the century mark. Speaking of which, the ever creative Mel Brooks just made that milestone. His films are never dated, but I’m feeling that way.

Re: Ambition

Folks who live to their nineties may have stood the test of time but if our only ambition is longevity then I’ve got to wonder about the meaning of life. Now I can say I’ve ever liked being tested, so maybe that’s why I have little ambition. Ambition enough to think on the word itself, I suppose, as long the thought is my own volition.

People enter competitions to win something. Our culture pushes us to strive, to seek new levels of expertise, or at least to earn a paycheque. Personal desire sometimes trumps the good of the collective, sometimes that individual drive can create new worlds for others who watch in awe. Those who compete at a global level in sport are in the news with the FIFA world Cup. I used to play soccer in grade school but would never have aspired to play football as it is practised by millions around the world. I have admiration and respect for those who follow a singular dream of winning medals, cups, trophies, or esteem. Fame and fortune can be the driver of ambition but I’m slightly afraid of those goals.

In my teaching career many principals and other educational executives flattered me with the proposition that I should move up the career ladder. I enjoyed the few accolades I got but I never felt I worked especially hard to get them. I felt like I was just being me, helping kids, wherever I could, to be confident in their abilities. I never enjoyed being a coach-like figure, preferring to be sort of a co-conspirator. I wanted my students to thirst for the wonder of life, not necessarily to strive for a societal expectation of achievement.

I entered contests for fun, not really to see if I could beat anyone but for the joy of group engagement. I write for the love of it, but have been hurt when I’ve been encouraged to send in a story or poem, only to be told I didn’t win. I lack the courage it takes to be ambitious. When it comes down to it, I don’t like the feeling that I’m being tested. After the test is handed in there is the inevitable grade. I worry how I will be judged. When I have put myself out there, on committees for example, I somehow mustered the personal will to make a difference due to my presence. I’ve been patted on the back, and also talked about behind that same back. It’s true that you can’t please everyone.

Desire is related to ambition. My desire to be a good husband and father has been with me for most of my life. I hope I’ve been judged well in that department. That desire probably came from wanting a satisfactory home life compared to the perils I navigated in my childhood. Trials are sent to test us. An ambitious person seeks them out. I would rather make my mind up when opportunity knocks.

If that makes me a scaredy cat then meow on me.

Re: Connect

Connection is often on my mind. It’s not the why of it all, but the how behind things aligning to make bonds work. Folks can be dismissive about this subject by suggesting clichés like; ‘The family that stays together…’ or ‘Birds of a feather…’. As I search for a deeper meaning of what it means to be human I’m conflicted by two urges: I know myself and am confident in my abilities, yet I appreciate the gifts that others bring to my life.

Our world values connecting with like-minded individuals. Hiring practises favour common consensus on priorities, personalities, and protocol. In politics this is key to passing legislation without huge amounts of time on debate. In government and business the bottom line is efficiency. In such a world loyalty is highly valued. Unfortunately this single track connection leaves many watching as the train of opportunity passes them by.

More equitable connections come when we look to diversity as a priority to strengthen our understanding. Those we hire or befriend don’t have to wear the same uniform. If we can reflect on the views, without fear, we may learn something new to guide our own journey. If every committee is a bunch of old white men, then we can’t expect healthy change to drive the human experience and ignorance will continue to control the agenda. Canada is tendering contracts to Germany and South Korea to build us a new fleet of submarines. WWII has long past but old notions of German engineering (good and bad) have appeared in comments from the public. And South Korea is, well, the southern part of Korea, whose neighbour to the north is controversial. In my home province of British Columbia the government is debating whether to consider a bid from China to build our ferries as we move away from reliance on all manner of things from the cursed dis-united states of amurca.

Prejudice impacts our connections. From a very early age we learn to choose who we associate with. There have been times when I would have wished to choose my family. In my own life I have felt the sting of being the last to be selected for an opportunity. Some of these hurts have disabled me from actively seeking connection, yet I still wish to belong to something greater. As I get older I am getting a sense of larger connections (sometimes mystical) that I am wishing to understand.

For example, I wonder about mysterious cosmic connections (my mind having spun over recent revelations from the film Disclosure Day). One afternoon I was in a large crowd and drawn to watch a young mother with her two children. There was a hint of recognition (visual, not sexual, electrifying, magnetic) but the energy of the moment passed. Later the three played together in another part of the park where I had been sitting. Much later they passed by me giggling. I reeled from imaginary thoughts. Did I connect with a soul in that group? Is this what it is like after death? Oh, my spirit!

Re: Serious

Some have said I am too serious for my own good. My sister used to tell me to laugh more. Alas, frivolity is not part of my nature. I much prefer a high-grade serious discussion over a giggle with beer buddies. In fact I don’t have any beer buddies, and I don’t really care that much for beer, so I guess that’s part of my problem.

Give me silly and I can do that. When someone teases to get to my weaknesses, I can turn it into a silly romp at both our expense. Those times spent fathering my young sons delighted the playful side of me. Geography, and inclination has kept me from delighting in similar silliness with my ever-growing cast of grandchildren. Leaving that part of caring for youngsters behind is easy since my sons are raising their brood with enthusiasm for the lighter side of life. Hence I can return to my first love: Seriousness.

A long time ago I had my mind set to go to Germany with a friend and get a gap year job at the Volkswagen factory. My friend bailed, I didn’t get as far as that country, hung around Holland for a while, bought a bicycle, then crossed the English Channel (on a ferry not my bike) to tour my birthplace. While in England I caught up with my grandparents, almost got a job at a zoo, learned to sail and competed in a Sunfish class regatta all before my mom called in a panic to say my dad was dying in Portland Maine. I dropped everything, arrived to find him survived, so I subsequently remained in Canada to carry on studies in Marine Biology. Serious stuff.

I now live by the code of Seriousity, or maybe it’s Seriology. Like an archaeologist of the spirit, I have examined my life archives. I was a grave child. My mother gave me momentous responsibility to look after both apartment and only sister, at the age forbidden by current labour laws. I recall when I looked in the mirror, as a teen, wondering how I got that vertical crease between my brows. My teachers commented on how my earnest approach to schooling must have determined my grade level, not any inherited remarkable IQ level. Being serious brought me rewards.

Philosophy is a serious pursuit, so I am happy when someone points out my philosophical views. When others avoid the grim news of the day, I see it as an invitation to find out more so that I can come to a serious conclusion. Nothing gets me angrier than a dismissive remark. Frivolous folk I have a hard time tolerating! Technically my traits align with OCD personality types yet a psychiatrist once told me that those very symptoms can be viewed in people who are highly successful at getting things done. Being serious is what helps me achieve.

Rereading these paragraphs looks like a dating profile to post on a ‘Come Find Me’ website. Just so you know, I’m not looking. I have my life-mate who adores my Spock-like personality.

Re: Pretend

A Pretendian is someone who wants to lay a false claim to Indigenous heritage. This can be an insult to aboriginal people as it dilutes their unique culture. I get that. Also, pretending we are someone, who we are not, distorts reality. However, sometimes pretending can show you another view, and that may lead to greater empathy. I like walking in another’s shoes, even for a while. Trying on a different set of clothes brings a new perspective. In the long run we must be satisfied with the fit of the garment to see if it expresses our soul.

Children act-out in public as a function of growing up (Halloween). Actors earn a living being someone else. When my first wife died, I pretended to my community. Depending on the person I was talking to, I might look grief-stricken or I would make light of my situation to bring comfort to others. I attended a grief circle-group to satisfy one well intentioned friend. My participation lasted two sessions: First I told my story, then, on the second and last occasion, I worked hard to assure everyone I was going to be OK (so please, don’t worry about me anymore). I found I could pretend as a way to cope (sometimes called Denial in the Kubler–Ross school of thought). Those days, I found that irrationally humming to cover the sadness would offer me temporary relief (fake-it-til-ya-make-it).

“Oh stop pretending! Stop kidding yourself! You look like a Poser!” were thoughts that came to me from my mirror, as I shaved in the morning. Being pretentious is the dark side of an honest attempt to look on the brighter side of life. The obvious danger in prolonged pretending is that you forget yourself and you end up making poor judgements about how to proceed. It’s a maddening paradox: To be truly happy with the person within, you have to admit that you can’t always be happy. Gurdeep Pandher, a fellow philosopher, warns against blocking out the full range of our experiences by pretending that it will all go away or that it never happened in the first place. Check out his Substack presence.

The other night I woke from a dream about my personal history. My story has often been self-cast in a positive light. My mom would call me her shining star while my sister was often the devil in sneakers. I’m still uncovering the truths behind my deception of “yeah, my childhood was ok compared to others” while getting glimpses that I had it worse than some. Balancing the good with the bad is a challenge, but neither can be ignored at the expense of the other. I am a tapestry; rich with dark and light blended to create the work of art that I am at any point in time. My sister slowly withdrew from life because she stopped seeing the good stuff. Similarly, I don’t want to pretend that the bad stuff never even happened.

We all pretend at various spots in our lives. We evolve. Temporarily we may cover ourselves in a chrysalis, waiting for change to transform our reality.

Re: Have

“…to have and to hold, from this day forward…” is a common wedding ceremony snippet. In this context I wonder at the meaning of the word Have. Such a simple word but worthy, like all things we consider minor, of greater scrutiny, especially in the matrimonial setting.

Possession usually implies ownership, as in a marital rite. In that context, to literally have someone is grotesque (thoughts of manipulation, dominance, slavery even!). The only way to soften the idea is to say that with ownership comes responsibility and with that responsibility comes a requirement to share. Now I can feel a bit more comfortable if I announce this revised promise “to halve what I have, ’til death do us part.”

I have great memories of wedding my bride at beachside, where we created our own vows consistent with the extent to which we wished to share our lives together. Since then we have built wonderful moments, precious in abundance, not few, as in the 1972 song by Climax. We have built a home where things, matter less than experiences. Sometimes generational analysts wish to summarize an age group by the importance they put on acquiring things. I don’t like lumping people into the same pot, but I admit to being ticked-off by inequality.

People were talking about ‘the haves & the have-nots’ back when I was a kid. Today the references are percentage points, as in the 99% and the 1%. It makes me wonder if generosity has vanished. My parents had a large network of friends and all seemed generous for their time and their meagre possessions. I remember our family visiting a woman after she had lost her husband. I was only ten at the time, but my memory tells me that she wouldn’t let us leave without each of us taking something from her apartment. “I have enough. I won’t be needing it. Here, you like it? You may have it!” My youthful need to have stuff made me wish for a shopping bag. My mom’s stern look and my guilt over being seen as needy, pricked my compulsion to acquire more than just one thing. On the way to the car Mom said mysteriously, “I have a feeling about her.” I’m still guessing what that statement could have meant.

In adulthood, it took me a while to stop feeling anxious about the state of my bank account. Every decision started with, “Can I afford this?” And that’s just thinking about finances. Questions of time, physical resources, emotional commitments, and responsibility to others also affected my ability to be confident that I had enough to get what I needed. It’s hard to be easy about having less, or being satisfied with having enough. Discovering that you can be well looked-after by others, can make you feel more generous. That’s cool!

In the grand scheme of things we just have ourselves. As I age, I’m learning that all I really need is me. Well, that, and a few keepsakes, nicknacks, curios, mementoes, souvenirs, tokens…(you know what I mean).

Re: Comfort

Discomfort is what I abhor. Some carry a cross believing that what pains us, gives us gain. Not me. Comfort and Joy could be a hymn I’d sing all year. I might get nasty looks though, which would make me feel uncomfortable.

I take medication to reduce persistent childhood anxiety. Back then I was more resilient, but now life is easier if I can access calm inner-harmony before blaming another. Yes, I know all about the ways to reduce stress without resorting to a prescription. I can often get out of a panic by using my breath training, or finding a place to meditate. However, when the wheel of fear keeps spinning in my head it’s hard to make a rational decision. My medication keeps me on an even keel. Sailing straight is actually a normal part of my personality, but into everyone’s life a little rain must fall, or even heavy seas, where we might find ourselves marooned. Avoidance is a good strategy, but not always possible.

My anxiety can prevent access to the better part of me. When we have pleasant thoughts, un-muddied by hamster-harried misgivings, we experience comfort. Sometimes I find comfort in music. I use the Youtube channel to let the melodies sooth my savage beast. Even a Super Being needs some creature-comforts.

Some people swear by a daily cup of coffee. That liquid medication can set the chemistry straight for a productive day of work or recreation. Meaningful relationships, even with pets, can make us feel comforted. I depend on my bride to be there for me when I need a comforting touch. When we bring comfort to another it feels mighty good. I admire the folks in my community who give their time volunteering in various ways. I’ve contributed that way through my lifetime reaping the quiet rewards of knowing I’ve made a difference to another. I also know it’s important not to override your own comfort in a good-samaritan way. Once, I took the overnight shift on a Help-Phone service. My involvement in this altruistic activity contributed to a sustained bought of anxiety that led to depression. Neither comfortable, nor healthy!

In my neighbourhood there is often the smell of cannabis in the air, which might also explain the abundance of food trucks. I’m neither a foodie nor a pot-user so I have find other sources to help me wind-down from upset. I have empathy for those who are without a place to feel safe. Being unhoused is the ultimate in discomfort. It bothers me that folks-of-means feel the answer to getting vagrants off the streets is though police action. I support the position that drug dependency is a health issue. I relate to policies of harm reduction because I know that addiction evolves exponentially, when comfort needs have not been met.

When I’m feeling cozy, my world is less scary. I don’t wish to take cold-comfort from knowing I have it better than others. As a global citizen, contributing to the well-being of all is a worthy aspiration.