Category: Disruption

Re: Revelation

“Caw!” Quoth the raven Evermore. He was joined in harmony by his siblings Always, Persistently, and Perpetually. These four trickster birds congregate around our townhouse, pecking at the seams of the concrete parking area, searching for grubs in the exposed cracks. Their presence is measured, methodical, and eerily portentous. My fearless 96 year old special mom does not see the poet Poe in the bird’s beady black eyes. She arrived back from her walk yesterday as I was opening the front door. Around her ankles, like excited little children, were five crows trick-or-treating for more peanuts. “Caw! Who’s the smart one eh?”

Seers, prophets, and soothsayers have always held a fascination for me. Especially in times of high anxiety I will be on the lookout for signs of someone knowing. Knowledge brings me comfort and if news can come in the guise of a forecast then all the better to ease my tension. Even getting a hint of warning will give me some direction since I like to plan for the worst, while maintaining a hope for the best.

These days it’s hard to avoid news of the rise of fascism. In many parts of the world politicians are no longer hiding their true colours. Trumpism is the latest version of autocratic rule. POTUS 45 may have been the clown we liked to mock but POTUS 47 is on the attack, denying every valid criticism, and claiming victory where no praise is warranted. The Donald’s craziness is no longer funny (even the comedians at SNL are appearing to be having a hard time satirizing his global-threatening behaviour). Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Octavio-Cortez are teaming up at many NO-KINGS rallies in an effort to reveal the danger faced in the USA, and throughout the world. I was buoyed at the support provided to Zohran Mamdani in the race for the mayoralty of New York City. Here is a politician with a vision for a metropolis that puts working people first, not wealthy speculators.

Revelation can be a light bulb, eureka-shouting moment. Or it can be a quiet dawning. However the truth gets to us we have to do our part by keeping the blinds open. In order for something to be revealed to us we must be alert to the messaging. I’m reading from many sources as I try to wrap my head around what’s going on. Some just trust FoxNews, Rachel Maddow, or John Oliver. I also seek valued counsel in the many Canadian journalists named Mark (as in ‘mark -my-words’). Investigative reporters like Heather Cox Richardson, Chris Hedges, and Abilio James Acosta have earned my respect for their remarkable precognition. Knowing things are bad can be depressing. Of course I will try to put a shine on the news, as is my nature to balance the good with the bad. I will listen to musical prophets like Alanis Morrisette, who artistically place ideas in their lyrics that give me guidance. I’ll keep one hand in my pocket while the other is giving the peace sign. Then everything will be fine, fine, fine.

Re: Refuge

My uncle is aghast that in his country, refugees who travel across the English Channel are “put up in hotels”. I’ve long since given up on his rants about the injustices of the immigration system. The reality of finding a place of refuge for millions throughout the world is a reminder of global inequity. Privileged folks, like my relative in the UK, just don’t see past their own need to protect their borders with walls or fences.

Poets like Robert Frost would disagree. From Mending Walls: “Before I built a wall I’d ask to know/What I was walling in or walling out/ And to whom I was like to give offense.” Perhaps artists are the first to lend sympathy to those forced from their home environments by war, persecution, climate change, or lack of employment opportunities. No one who wasn’t suffering hardship of any sort would make a choice to go to a foreign land. When I read of refugee camps, I consider my mustard seed of related experience and feel great empathy for these wandering nomads.

“Are there no workhouses…” is a line spoken by the miserly fictional character Ebenezer Scrooge, as he brushes off a plea for Christmas charity. Those humans who seek refuge from the pains of the world are of no concern to this wealthy man. The billionaires continue to profit from playing with their money while the 99% struggle on with the results of bottom-line focussed corporations and ostrich politicians. Mother Nature has no voice yet the signs of her woe are everywhere.

We had a storm in our spot by the sea yesterday. Trees swayed in the gusts and heavy autumn rain fell. I revelled today as I looked up to see flocks of birds appear out of some mysterious hidden location further up our street. I walked gingerly, stepping over branches and mounds of leaves, and wondered where they had found a place of refuge. Reading the newspaper later I discovered ferries had been cancelled, power lines downed, and op/eds were shrieking over the lack of attention being paid to climate change.

Where is refuge to be found from the onslaught of depressing news. From my perspective as a media consumer, I often feel myself to be a refugee trying to stay balanced in this modern era of deliberately manufactured discord. I feel history will look back on the 2020s as an equivalent to the horrors of the two previous world wars. The idea of a current definition of WWIII would include; cyber insecurity, polarization of states, economic irregularity, resource misuse, widespread inequity, global human migration, climate instability, religious intolerance, military expansion, and pandemic unpreparedness. The list reads like the side-effects, in fine print, found on the package for the latest cure-all medication.

Some sort of prescription is certainly needed if humanity is to make it out of this century alive. Veterans of past wars sought shelter where they could and helped their neighbour when they could. Time for us to do the same.

Re: Invent

I’m not always convinced that ‘necessity is the mother of invention’. This is often a toss-off statement made by capitalists who want perpetual progress for financial gain. I admit I have a conflict with clichés of any sort. I am unconventional in that way. I prefer to be inventive, at least with my language, so I pondered away a rainy day trying to flesh out the imaginary family members responsible for inventive progress.

So if an invention (or even the basis of an idea) could be created by a metaphorical family member, then how might that look in a family tree sort of way, I wondered. This is complex and perhaps confusing thinking, I know, but welcome to my brain. So to review, and for the sake of the exercise, we’ll agree that Necessity is the mother of Invention. That would imply that no idea gets born w/o mommy dearest. I think there can be creation without a defined need for progress. Stay with me.

I believe some progress comes from pure inspiration: Out of the blue and unbidden. So let’s add the phrase that ‘inspiration is the grandparent of invention’. Now following that genealogical train of thought we could say that ‘desire is the teenager of invention’. Creative minds are everywhere in the human family. To seek innovation is a natural response to boredom and I can attest that my grandkids are always saying they are bored. Let’s make their creations come directly from their fresh cerebral capacity by saying that, ‘boredom is the grandchild of invention.’

In the world of inventions there is a great inventory of moments in human history when an idea has changed the cultures of the world. There has been talk lately of the great Industrial Revolutions (I prefer to refer to them as Evolutions since it tones down the violence, even though battles were fought over these great paradigms of change). The first IR was the invention of steam power, the second was the applications related to electricity, then came telephone/television as global communication, the fourth was the evolution of computers. Currently we are moving into a fifth realm where AI robotics are actually threatening our understanding of work.

If I were a kid again I would answer the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, with the answer, “An inventor.” I hope I would be a socially conscious inventor like Jonas Salk who refused to patent his polio vaccine believing that his discovery must not belong to any one person since it was for the good of humanity. Likewise the honourable Sir Alexander Fleming believed penicillin must be available to everyone. I believe our souls are ultimately responsible for innovation. If we believe that celestial beings created us then I conclude that ‘creativity is the god-parent of invention.’

Plato thought the greatest human need was to be a creator. I believe we have a daily desire to invent what happens in our day. We have personal authority to do just that. That’s freedom.

Re: Encounter

I enjoy the encounters I have when I am out and about in my community. A simple stroll to my village to renew my prescriptions, a stop for an ice cream cone, or finding a sale in a grocery store will bring a smile to my face especially when I have a moment with a real person.

Abraham is his name. We met at an afterparty at a local theatre. He acted in the play that night, and I was an audience member. I started the conversation as he was choosing some cheese and paté, from a tray on a pedestal. I gushed with enthusiasm over the dynamic representation of a fight scene involving athletic coordination that was the climax of the plot. On stage, Abraham and his acting partner had just parried in a violent dance, each thrusting a blade with death being the intended outcome. All this action happened in remarkable slo-motion choreography, while I watched a mere three metres from the stage apron. Now I was standing near Abraham, at the meet and greet, trying to speak without crackers spilling out of my mouth.

Encounters can be exhilarating, sometimes messy, and rarely planned. A chance encounter can stay with us for a long time, if not forever. I remember as a teen being brave enough to ask if I could have an old lobster pot that seemed discarded by a house near where I was camping with my parents. I was with a friend at the time, and as he waited a few yards back at the top of the driveway, I negotiated with the owner. I said I had long wanted a suitable keepsake for my many years as a child coming to this beachside campground in Maine. I was going off to university and imagined the rectangular lobster trap would make an excellent coffee table. The owner handed his artifact to me as a gift, the look on his face was one of pure benevolence. I still remember my friend appearing equally stunned by the exchange saying, “You got it just by talking to him!”

I’m still feeling the isolating effects of Covid19. Back then we were encouraged not to have encounters due to risk of exposure to the virus. Even though I tend to introversion on the social spectrum I missed those times when I regularly attended mass cultural events. During those covid years I got used to encountering others over social media where exchanges didn’t involve the risk of a stray sneeze. In the longer term, Covid19 made us all a bit insecure about approaching others.

Now that I’m back attending the arts events that I love, engaging other humans will return in fits and starts. My social muscle memory emboldens me to initiate confidently. The actor Abraham seemed pleased that I had dared to approach that night at the theatre. He said, “And what about you?” Which raised my praise to dialogue level. Oh my, what to say next!

I’m going to need more practise at this conversation game.

Re: Oneupmanship

I find it appropriate that ‘man’ is found in this word, because it is masculine aggressiveness that usually interrupts a collaborative approach to a problem. Males tend to want to feel superior over their brothers at work or at play. I’ve seen women take a dominant stance in meetings so I suppose women are not immune to the desire of besting their fellow sex. Meanly, I think, we use different words for when a woman wants to show-up her competition by being catty, a bitch, or any other word that references the animal world.

I am forever puzzled by this need, that some have, to make themselves seen at someone else’s expense. I’m not perfect but I don’t feel comfortable if my success means my fellow human has taken a backseat on this bus we call life. I’ve tried to learn from my mom’s mistake. She was a master of oneupmanship. She practised on my dad, then went hunting in the community for fresh victims (‘fresh meat’, she called her prey). She would delight in taking-the-mickey. She was ruthless in municipal politics. Even in her last days at a nursing home she would search the corridors of her ward for a newly-placed health aide to tease. Relentlessly. To tears! Making fun of others is no way to have fun. Topping others is no goal for me.

I have taken joy in seeing my name on the cover of my self-published book. I didn’t want to go through the soul-sucking process of finding a publisher who might see value in my words. I didn’t need to be recognized by an established publisher to give my work credibility. I found value in myself. Some might call that ego. I call it confidence. I can endorse myself. I don’t need to pass someone else’s test. I am among thousands of thousands of writers who have something to say. Artists have something to give. Most folk don’t want to evangelize their take on life. Most of us don’t have an axe to grind. We elevate ourselves through expression. We just put it out there, in hopes of being seen and understood, not by lording-it-over another.

Oneupmanship is aggression. Brinkmanship is the next level of ferocity. Lots of United States citizens must admire the antics of Donald J. Trump to bring him to national prominence, and dominance, for a second term as POTUS. I think The Donald is successful due to his brinkmanship; this man will not stop until his target is cringing in the corner, begging for mercy. Trump’s other characteristic is self-aggrandizement. This poor excuse for a human being will take any opportunity to say how great he is, how he’s the best ever, how no one has seen the likes of him before. On this last point many can agree; not since Hitler have we seen someone so able to con the masses into complete subjugation. It would be laughable if it didn’t cause so much pain.

Our world is teetering on the brink. Let’s try a little stewardship for a change.

Re: Exist

I find it amusing that an anagram for Exist is Exits. We are living in Existential times, say many articles I read these days. Some headlines scream; “It’s an Existential Crisis!” or “Our very Existence is being jeopardized!” or “Human’s will soon cease to Exist on our planet!” Certainly civilization is in a roiling turmoil, sufficient to make us feel that it’s time to seek the exits of the great theatre of life (the vomitoria of ancient roman amphitheatres come to mind).

But wait! Before we search for that way-out from our own arena, let’s consider together what defines our existence. Hamlet was right when he opined that to be or not to be was the question. I believe we must be, simply because we are. Life is precious, to ourselves and to others. I’ve known folks who have committed suicide. I’ve contemplated shuffling off this mortal coil. What held me back was that the fear of missing out was greater than the fear of what comes next.

My existence is dependent on my thoughts. I am aware of my presence because I feel things. My senses send me signals of pleasure and pain. To be present means to acknowledge the messages being received, even if they are uncomfortable. All things will pass. I can’t always relate to what’s happening around me so I find comfort in the parade. Maybe I’ll join in later, or start my own parade. We are characters in a play of our own making. All the world’s a stage.

When I read stories of people who have disappeared I wonder what their previous existence had been like. I’m going to assume here that they arranged their own disappearance. After their escape, I’ll assume they had a life, somewhere, even though the ones they left behind may do better emotionally by thinking they are dead. The story writer in me wants these vanished souls to have an alternate world; a world free of the hassles from which they felt they had to depart. Imagine being so uncomfortable that you had to get as far away from your current experience as possible. It’s hard to believe that such a disappearing act would be possible in this age of surveillance. Yet, in Canada alone, tens of thousands go missing every year.

There is no doubt that we are in an existential moment in history. The world-wide pinball machine seems to be in continuous tilt mode. Lights flash warning after warning: Climate change, Terrorist attack, War crimes, Political lies, Viral pandemic, Species extinction. Prophets are screaming end-of-days rhetoric. Please wake me up when it’s all over!

Then I see my wife smile at me. I see a sparrow land nearby and tilt its tiny head. A breeze teases the hairs on my arm. I smell a barbecue cooking. I swallow my saliva. I am alive! I exist and my existence doesn’t have to matter to anyone else but me. Each day can be better than what I thought it might be. I’ll never miss out if I hold on for one more day.

Re: Worst

I had an incident involving insurance and it made me spiral to thoughts of worst case scenarios. As clouds of worsening doubt gathered about, I found surprising comfort in ranking the worst moments in my life in one paragraph. The effort convinced me that my current situation was not that bad. I just had to get a grip.

Making a list of tragedies and traumas sounds depressing but it did offer me a sense of control. Control can sometimes bring a certain calmness. If you like order in your life then putting things down on paper offers perspective. The list I made that day was revised several times. That’s a cool thing about judgement; our sense of a moment’s impact more or less changes as we gain the wisdom of hindsight. I call it My Best Worst List. This summary list became a therapeutic accounting of the crappy moments that I wish hadn’t happened, but did.

My first wife died of cancer when we were both only 50 years old. That was entered as the worst on my self-therapy list. I suffered clinical depression 7 years before that, making it second on my collection of lifetime worst events. A simple surgery went wrong so I had a hellish night in an emergency room. A family trip was once aborted due to a flat tire that nearly killed us all (I was driving and I still have chest pains from the memory of that experience). My sister ending her life prematurely is on my list. I had a best friend who bailed on a European hitchhiking trip AND being my best man at my wedding, which was a total bummer. In grade nine I got the one/two punch of my parents separating then we moved to a city AND I had to go to a new high school. Too cruel!

Bad things don’t have to happen before we know what the good times feel like. Pain is pain in the moment. Time heals if we don’t focus on our suffering. Feeling low is normal and it doesn’t have to be linked to one happening. Identifying something on a scale of bad to worse is the first step to understanding the bigger picture of your life. For me, sometimes it was a matter of encouraging myself to hang on for-one-more-day. On the worst days I felt lucky to have someone provide the guidance to see the way ahead, out of the gloom. Humour helps at the right time, delivered in a positive way. Silliness tends to lift me up before things get worser.

A ruined birthday party can be the worst thing in the whole world for a four year old. You grow older. Tragedies mount. You learn from the school of hard knocks. It helps to share your story, comparing war wounds over a beer and liverwurst lunch. You can laugh with a soul mate while discussing the value of worsted wool over synthetic fibre. Always remember; things could be worse! I’m resolved to leave the past where it belongs.

Re: Evil

Like most people, I choose to hear no evil, speak no evil and see no evil. But it’s hard these days not to at least ponder the use of this word. Evil seems to be all around us right now. It’s written about in our newspapers, it’s demonstrated on our nightly news, it pops up on our social media sites. I think evil holds some kind of attraction yet I am puzzled as to why.

One genre of film or book I least like is horror. I shy away from tales of the bad deeds that humans do onto others. My recreational viewing and reading is a search for the best we humans can be while overcoming the restrictions of existence. Stories of evil are prevalent in any historical age and no nation is immune from showing inhumanity in policy or deed. Sometimes we Canadians get sanctimonious when it comes to our presence on the world stage yet one only needs to turn to our government’s record regarding the treatment of indigenous populations to put us in our place.

Evil lives in people’s minds. Ignorance can be manipulated by someone to promote and nurture an evil intention. Evil is present whenever I think I can use someone else to attain my goals. Use can quickly turn to abuse if the result of a personal or professional transaction is not satisfactory. Beyond the individual, entire community power structures can be created to maintain the status quo. Society quickly becomes a Them against Us scenario. The abusive power invokes fear through threats and intimidations. An evil power thrives when the community is uneducated. Even majority populations can be cowed into believing things that are not true. False narratives become integral to the structure of Evil.

Prejudice forms part of the root of Evil: That creeping thought that enters the mind suggesting that you, or we, are better than those others, over there. Evil grows. It’s an egregious event to see and hear folks suddenly turn against each other. Sides are chosen by leaders spouting rhetoric that fans the hatred. If you are not with us then you might be considered stupid, or worse, like animals. The road to expressions of indecency towards our fellow creatures is not winding, nor is it as short a distance as we might wish to believe. Thoughts of defence, turn to acts of revenge, turn to denial of the very existence of the other, all too quickly.

Blame is cloaked evil. Many could be named as prophets of hell: Hitler is often invoked yet there are others who have taken a leadership role in acts of inexcusable terror throughout history. Measuring the severity of the crime against humanity gets us a list of who to blame but doesn’t absolve those who clapped, who made deals, who saluted, who perpetrated the policy, who cast their vote. Few can say they had no role. When the finger pointing is done we are still not absolved of responsibility.

Ideologically, we are no better than our neighbour, even if someone tries to convince us it’s true.

Re: Wallet

I’ve never lost my wallet, but I’ve thought I had lost it many times. I check for the presence of my wallet frequently, sometimes obsessively. When I’m on holiday it is always on my mind. I’ll pat my back pocket and check the drawers or shelf of the room I’m staying in. When I am secure in knowing its presence I’m calmer. On occasion, I may even kiss it for luck to ward off evil spirits.

My son lost his wallet while moving his belongings to a new apartment. In the busy-ness of loading and packing he put it gingerly on the car’s rooftop. The obvious happened when he got behind the wheel and merged with other traffic. The shock of picturing what he had done wrong must have been numbing. He went back through his trip, in a futile attempt to rescue his wallet from the road where it must have fallen but to no avail. His credit cards had to be cancelled but luckily he had only $40 in cash. A couple of week’s later he got a call from his local police department saying the wallet had been turned in! Much to his amazement the wallet’s contents were intact! When he shared this story with me, we both commented on how our faith in humanity had been enhanced by this simple act of unselfishness.

Some folk say the cell phone has become their most highly valued object to carry everywhere. When I told others of my son’s mishap they related by saying how they had lost their phones and had been bereft as to what to do when a record of their identity had gone AWOL. Indeed, when you consider what is loaded onto our devices they become a veritable code to who we are in this world. Comparatively, the wallet with its old timey paper access cards, wrinkled photos, bills, receipts, bus passes, loyalty IDs & embossed business cards becomes a relic you might see on display at a museum of not so modern culture.

I made my first wallet when I was nine from a craft kit I got for Christmas. It came with pre-cut leather and strands of gimp plastic lace. When constructed it looked a bit like a folding moccasin with a side gash for paper cash (I never had any of that), a snap pouch for coins and a cool slit for bus tickets. There was a single clear plastic window under which I put my library card and my swimming pool registration card. With this wallet, fully loaded, I could get access anywhere.

Throughout my life other wallets have not lived up to the level of self confidence given to me by that first homemade beauty. However I still choose each new wallet by giving it a smell test. The leather scent knocks me out. A wallet has always given me a sense of importance. It contains a bit of my past and present and some assurance that my future is secured. A cell phone seems cold in comparison.

Re: Uniform

Uniforms give me a creepy feeling. I once argued against providing a standardized school uniform in the public school where I was a teacher. Our principal had visited a local private school and got all excited about making His School like a family; all united and loyal to a common cause and some such nonsense. The staff was divided and it took a few of us to rally for the concept of individualism before his idea was shelved. We agreed to naming the sports team instead and that seemed to placate him. ‘Go Vikings!’

I can appreciate the value of a uniform for someone who serves the community. Police/Fire/Ambulance folk need to be recognizable so other people can gain quick access to help in an emergency. Where the scene gets muddy for me is in an assembly or parade situation. Masses of marching uniformed individuals remind me only of force, not unity. A military parade particularly is a spectacle of power and intimidation. Royal ceremonies and ultra flag waving events curdle my thoughts in the same manner. The pomposity and regalia of the recent British coronation to acknowledge and verify the ascendency of the costumed man formerly known as prince was surely a joke viewed through a twenty-first century lens. I lost all respect for people who claim to be royalists after this televised celebration of all things status quo.

For the wearer of the uniform, there will be a measure of pride. Friends I have had in health services and the military have told me their confidence is elevated when they are dressed for work. They become more than themselves in a way that transcends their individuality. They are part of a unit. There is power in a collective. Power that can be used with good intent, or malice. I believe the ‘Defund the Police’ movement was meant to address the abuse by members of municipal forces who have disrespected the very people for whom they wear their uniform. Even political leaders have been at a loss to tell citizens just who the security forces are serving and exactly what they are protecting. If the saying is true that, ‘clothes make the man/woman’ then a reorganizing of society itself is in order as long as the sight of someone in a uniform can generate a fear response.

My school principal, that master teacher, was misguided. He was after control, not collegiality. He didn’t distinguish between uniformity and consistency. In the school setting (and in community) a consistent approach to solving issues nurtures understanding and even sometimes conformity. Uniforms don’t promote solidarity, common values do. People will respond to leaders who say what they mean, mean what they say and follow through with consistent approaches. To be predictable doesn’t mean being boring. A uniform is boring and humans are born to be creative. We must always question authority while celebrating our differences. A uniform comes in a box.The uniform and the box are mass produced. Humans are best when they think outside of both.