Category: humanity

Re: Zen

In this essay, like all my other lateral thoughts , I don’t intend to define. The words I explore here cause me curiosity. I’ve heard the word zen used many times since I met my bride. She practises complementary medicine, so I get tuned in, and turned on, to alternative ways of treating my many neuroses.

Once I owned a backyard that offered an outdoor bathtub for cooling reflection. Now, I have a tiny garden that offers a path of stone that can be walked in four steps to a baby buddha stone elfin creature. You can tell from that last sentence that I’m not a religious person. While I may respect the teachings and philosophies of religious figures I pick and choose from the world’s spiritual menu in order to find my way. This current garden of mine brings me peace as I stare out my sliding glass door. There is room enough for one gravity chair on the patio. When lounging on it I can scan the horizontal ground-cover within seconds but then gazing vertically I revel in the limitless sky, imagining creatures in the clouds.

I love practising my version of zazen. Traditionalists will sit in a prescribed posture but I can’t pretend to conform to those higher standards. I might catch a moment of tranquility while pausing between the lines of a beautifully written poem. After reading the news in the morning paper, I may lay down the pages and contemplate what the headlines have done to my way of thinking. I’ve spent hours peering into the embers of a satisfying campfire. I’ve pushed a stick into the ground and watched its shadow move slowly as my planet orbits around the sun. Sitting by the sea shore in stillness tightens my awareness of wave and tidal regularity.

Rather than close down my senses, my perceptions blossom when I’m in a zen-like mode of experience. My breathing becomes a thrill to witness rather than an obligation for life maintenance. Windows open, doors lose their locks, boxes shed their packing tape bonds. My memory of past events flows like an unobstructed river. A fresh path is revealed making anything seem possible. Time loses meaning as I become present to the myriad mosaic of the moment. No need for pharmaceuticals to fuel this journey. The now is exhilarating and calming at the same instant.

In high school art class I created a sketch of a boy looking back over his shoulder as he sprinted along a winding path on his way to a horizon. I received attention enough from my teacher and peers that I recall wondering if it depicted my future. Now at 74, I wonder at the looking back/looking forward dichotomy of our existence. As humans invested in past/future pondering we lose the sublime bliss of the moment: that singularity when nothing really matters.

I’ve become acquainted with Japanese death poems thanks to Author and Zen practitioner Ruth Ozeki. Imagine taking your last precious breath while writing a song of hope for all who come after you!

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: Sacrifice

On Remembrance Day, every year, we hear about the ultimate sacrifice. It’s one of the mythologies we practice religiously in hopes of feeling comfort within our cultural choices. Every holiday in my history has had collections of clichés over which I’ve puzzled while searching for meaning. I’ve wondered if my quest for understanding could be considered a sacrifice; as in a waste of time.

Giving of one’s self can be seen as a sacrifice if a life is lost. Many societies have rationalized the offering of the vestal virgin, the first born son, the sacrificial lamb, or the oath of allegiance to signify a desire to please the gods or confirm the relevance of the greater good. Jesus (or any other innocent soul for that matter) didn’t die for my sins, but because of them. I think it is pathetic that Abraham (if he ever existed) would ever be asked to kill his son as a gift to a god. Some of these old notions were based on ignorance regarding the movement of the planets, the changing of the seasons, who represented the accepted deity, or who was in charge at the time. In our modern world, I can’t accept unconditionally that one must die before their time so that another may live.

To give our lives in war is a death sacrifice. Honour, tradition, and cultural correctness play a part here. We reward, in memory and ceremony, those who have given so others may carry on. I’ve just rewatched the classic 1939 anti-war film The Four Feathers. The main character chooses not to go to war and his former friends and lovers give him a white feather (a symbol of cowardliness) as a rebuke for his choice. He goes on to prove what courage and sacrifice really look like.

In an economical sense, citizens are often asked to make sacrifices when times are lean. I think this can be called a living sacrifice. Parents providing for their children first, seems natural. Looking after our elders need not be legislated. In just societies I would hope that government provides support for those who choose to put others’ needs first, before their own. In my perfect world the innocents would be protected rather than be the first to feel the sting of want. Alas the wealthy and powerful are often the last to sacrifice even a tiny portion of their abundance. Indeed, it is those in power who persuade us to sign-up for the good of all. Their propaganda hides them from their own accountability.

On Christmas Day, every year, we are invited to hope for goodwill towards others. Most folk are examples to me of living-in-sacrifice: they give parts of themselves generously in work, play, and care. I learn by these examples of altruism. I am moved when this comes naturally, as part of being human. The reward for such behaviour doesn’t come in heaven (as some might preach). I believe it’s up to all of us to see service from others as a personal sacrifice, freely given, and needing acknowledgment right this very minute.

Re: Choice

I’ve just finished a provocative book by Robert Sapolski called Determined: A Science of Life Without Free Will. Its main point is that there is no such thing as independent choice. The author gives many examples and even scientific data to show that the act of choosing is not possible, even if we are determined to believe it to be true. Choice comes with so much baggage; personal, genetic, historical, cultural and generational. He argues that these patterns in our lives determine our characteristics and behaviour.

When I was in university the common-area lounge debate was often Nature vs Nurture. Looking back on those times it seems the imperative was to take a side. One fellow, I recall clearly, telling us all that he had a right Not to choose. He gave the example of the election held the week before our discussion. He shocked us by declaring he didn’t vote, and probably never would, as his form of protest against the system. I thought at the time that he was an example of anarchy, which was a side without a side I suppose.

If I choose to believe I have no choice I guess I join those who figure that Fate determines our lives. My 95 year old special mom likes to use the phrase, “What will be will be!” That dismissive comment might work for small burps in our existence but I’d hate to use that notion when it comes to global issues like climate change, inequity, famine, or war. Those who argue that something, as serious as humanity’s deterioration, is inevitable get me angry. When I can’t logically explain that choice is inherent to my being, then I’ll get emotional. And emotion will get me nowhere in a debate regarding my freedom of choice.

We can excuse our actions by complaining that we had no choice. To some that is a cop-out, to others who have less advantage, even from the moment of birth, it is a reason to connect A to B. That great David Lean film Lawrence of Arabia contains a narrative arc that illustrates this point dramatically. Lawrence saves a traveller in his caravan apparently destined to die and boasts that choice changes the outcome. In a following scene, that same man commits a deadly act ordained by the instructions of his god. Lawrence must then execute the very man he saved by his own hand.

Sometimes it’s enough to shrug your shoulders at the conundrum of the decision making process. My sister used to ignore the warning signs of a bad situation while I tend to masticate over every detail before picking the ‘best’ course of action. I’m guilty of shaming others by thinking “Well it’s your own damn fault.” I suspect that might be one of the rationals behind bombing Gaza into oblivion, because of the events of October 7, 2023. Choosing to rebel is considered less holy a crusade than an act of retribution. Therein lies the crime against humanity. Alternatively, when we choose something as important as peace we can make good on the promise of creation.

Re: Label

Things can be labelled but people must not. I don’t like to label others anymore than I enjoy having a tag placed on me. Humans are varied as a species and as individuals. Each single soul has multiple characteristics. I am not one thing: I am retired, male, Canadian, married, a writer, a dreamer, an adventurer, a grandfather. All those things and more. To label me would be an insult to all I was, and will be. Freedom is being unlabelled.

In my workshop I once had a labeller thingy: one of those devices you could punch embossed letters or numbers onto a plastic adhesive tape. The tape came in a variety of colours and was useful to denote things that begged to be sorted. It was a fun gizmo that I used to fashion labels for my sons’ belongings. I organized their shelves, their toys, their dresser drawers. I taught them how to read using the coded labelling as a practical way to put things into groups.  I organized their life because when my life was organized I felt a certain measure of peace.

Labels are often inefficient even though they are used to inform. The label on the can of baked beans on a shelf in a grocery store tells us its ingredients, even how beneficial it might be to our health. Yet it cannot tell us how it will taste. Companies pay huge sums of money to marketing firms to advertise their products. Labels are helpful to making money on products that people are told they must have for happiness or success. Labels sometimes rise to the status of brands and logos when they have become personified. Consumers become conditioned to believing that the labels they choose to buy will enhance the person they want to be in the global marketplace of our corporate world.

AI is raising the bar on labelling practises. Our personal phone devices are programmable to the point that they can scan codes. Under the guise of making life easier, we are folding ourselves into the capitalist matrix every time we use a QR label. In an insidious way we become a label to the machine of commerce because our personal data gets fed into AI systems that analyze our preferences and performance as a customer. In this scenario we risk our role as citizens when our civilization puts greater value on transactional bytes.

As a career elementary school teacher I was involved in many meetings where children were classified. Criteria for selection into groups varied. Many of us resisted the use of distinguishing labels. Our intent was for our students to be their fullest selves. During the horror of Nazi Germany a precedent was set for identifying humans considered to be of lesser value. We must resist being labelled in the name of profit, protocol or politics. Using scanning devices to assign us to a strata of consumer culture, to make us mere cogs in the wheel of Consumerism, or any ‘ism’, is a corruption of what it means to be Human.

Re: Man

I am a man. I think I am a man because of my biology and my training. I was taught that I could pee standing up, that I could help make a family by being a provider, that women and children must be saved first in a disaster. Some of that, perhaps all, is outdated thinking. But still, I know within my being, that I am a man.

This man: Me. I am taking small steps to learn that not all men, not all human beings, are created alike. By our very nature we are formed from the same flesh and blood and so must be treated, collectively with the same respectful humanity. However, I have come to learn that I am a Privileged Man by virtue of my whiteness and wealth. This troubles me. The equal rights declaration, “I am a Man!” is not lost on me. I learned of my manhood by example, as all men do. My father taught me there can be gentleness in a man. He spoke of femaleness and maleness as characteristics that men and women can share. For a while I was confused about these juxtapositions. I saw violence in my mother so I knew that hatred was not the purview of a man, alone. I learned that it was alright to cry, and yet tears may let others in on your secrets.

What it means to be a man has been a topic of discussion since the times of the wise Greeks. Most often, in my interpretation, these definitions have been restrictions to mankind’s full potential. Robert Bly made an attempt at defining the need for a men’s movement. His book, ‘Iron John’ was a great read using an old folk tale as a guide. The flaw in the text was the assumption that Man must be thought of as opposed to Woman. Our physiology must not predetermine our preferences, attitudes or behaviour. I believe there is more harm than good in concluding that the sexes think and act in a standardized pattern.

There is no manual on how to become fully human just as there is no series of steps to raising a child. Cultures may provide clues that help us to nurture nature. But nature will usually prevail. Societies may fear gender dysphoria to the extent of enacting laws that do more harm. Resolving issues of sexuality and gender identity will require love, not restrictive laws. It is clear to me that neither manipulation nor manhandling will be effective strategies when resolving these issues. I was recently moved by the role that Ben Whishaw played in the film Women Talking. He reminded me of my father in the way he showed respect for members of the opposite sex. His performance, proved there can be fluidity between the feminine and masculine ways of thinking. This quote from Psalms comes to mind: “O Yahweh, how manifold are thy works”

By virtue of my manhood I’m a member of the Patriarchy yet I am a man who does not want Power to rest in my maleness alone.

Re: Think

Some might tell you they’re thinking all the time. I believe them. I get lost in my thoughts regularly, in a daydreamy sense. If someone asks me what I think I’m very flattered because I feel my view of the world is just as significant as the other guy. I don’t very often come to conclusions with my thinking, at least not in the sense that mine are better than yours. It’s the variety of thoughts that can spin off to holy shit moments that intrigue me enough to ask myself, “Where did that come from?”

Formal education helped me to organize my thinking. I’ve no doubt that significant teachers pointed the way to help me understand my world. When a teacher responded to my hand in the air, I felt empowered to share what was on my mind. The words Thank and Think are nicely related that way since I feel grateful for my ability to think through a problem or be thoughtful about another person’s situation. I sometimes wonder where the thoughts come from that link us as a human race.

My wife has convinced me that all creatures have ideas about their environment. Just because we have trouble communicating with other living things doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking about what they might do next. Some evidence shows that trees (aided by fungi) form an underground network of signals for food sourcing and defence. I believe in a collective consciousness: That mysterious force that delivers inspiration, insight and direction. I don’t believe that it comes from a divine source, as an answer to a prayer, but more likely from an unknowable cloud of electrical transmissions.

We humans have an electric field even when we don’t have our thinking cap on. There are billions of us on this planet continually discharging energy. We are a collection of charged particles bouncing about in a sea of chemicals. We might be called Sparkles in an alternative universe. In that sense I might wish to call a grandchild Ethereal in recognition of our lightness of being. This collection of atoms that is us, by any other name, is sweet and remains after we die. I can easily think that these motes, atoms, ions and microscopic bits constitute what some call a soul. So I wonder where the soul goes, when I cease to be Robert.

It’s tempting for me to suggest that these specks of me will become thoughts after I am gone. After all, what else will be left of me, except that which is discovered in someone else’s thinking. My grandkids might think of their grandpa when they are in the midst of story time at school. Likewise, someone reading these words might think of a living soul they haven’t seen in a while or recollect thoughts of an ancestor long dead but still alive in this manner of thinking.

I can’t be alone to think on the meaning behind 13.7+ billion years of stardust. I’ll be careful the next time I rub my eyes. Who’d a thunk it?

Re:Sale

Imagine the things you might find in an apartment that’s been occupied for half a century. Now picture what a yard sale for all those possessions might look like. For Sale: TVs, sets of dishes, fancy crystal stemware, so many china teapots that Alice would shake her head in wonderment, silverware, tables, chairs, dressers, desks and Curios for every type of collector. We called it a closing out sale to celebrate the end of life at this location. A move across country required a ruthless attitude to paring down. Stuff was given away, or tossed. We were determined to take nothing but memories.

I’ve known some folks who love to cruise the neighbourhood on the weekend looking for signs posted for yard/garage/driveway sales. Everyone loves a bargain. I’m always surprised what sells well at these events. One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure they say. My experience with selling/buying at a resale level has had mixed results. As a seller, I can never fully get the price I originally paid out of my head, so resentment builds as bargain hunters try to wheedle the cost down. As a buyer my primary concern is not to feel like a chump for getting something for more that it’s worth.

Value is the key to these negotiated transactions. Both the buyer and seller can feel respected for their choice if they can agree on a value. Many times this is less about the money and more about the wonder of the bargain. Sentimentality plays a role. One customer looked dreamily at a fine china tea set for four. She admitted she didn’t have much money. She called her mom. We talked price. I was happy to let the set go for one low, low price seeing how much it meant. Another young boy asked me to price a large family bible. I said I couldn’t because it was free. They both got a dose of wish fulfillment.

I think of the character Ebenezer Scrooge and how he learned that the dogged pursuit of a sale  did not make him happy. I’m thinking of the Grinch; how he puzzled and puzzled about just Who could determine the worth of things. At my yard sale I went from thinking I’d never have another again in my life, to thinking a marketplace is one invention we humans make special due to the connectivity that is found in people gathering to fill needs and wants. Some of my younger customers left literally hugging their purchase.

I’m a reluctant salesman. Even when I enter negotiations as a buyer, I don’t like the back and forth of bargaining. In my perfect world, items are created and services provided in a free exchange. Ask and it shall be given you, seek and you shall find. Before this apartment liquidation sale my wise eldest son calmed my jitters by remarking how it was an opportunity for me to play Santa. Great idea! I added some carnival/gangster style salesmanship: “Step right up and make me an offer that I can’t refuse!”

Re: Gun/Bullet

A twitter friend and I recently had a quick back and forth related to the phenomenal number of shooting deaths in the United States of America. I expressed exasperation with the number of multiple deaths. I was especially unnerved by the statistic that showed that the victims were often children and even more alarming, children were becoming more common as the perpetrators of these killings.

The head shaking and regular doses of thoughts and prayers are not enough to reduce the frequency of death by gun or bullet. When I think of solutions I start with the connection between the gun and the bullet. The two are inseparable. A gun’s only purpose is for killing. A gun is useless without a bullet. There is no point in making or buying ammunition if a gun is unavailable to create the effect desired. Target practise aside, the only effect will be death.

The U.S.gun lobbyists like the National Rifle Association have long frustrated reformists who see the continual rise in gun violence as a sign of a sick society. Even in countries that don’t have the debatable protection of a constitutional 2nd amendment, hunters & farmers will speak up when legislation is proposed to rid them of their weapons of choice. One Australian I spoke with told me he couldn’t imagine life without his rifle. “How would I kill the vermin on my property?” We had a conversation about the term ‘Responsible Gun Owner’ which didn’t end well because I called the phrase an oxymoron and he took that word personally.

One of the most chilling films I’ve ever watched is called The Deer Hunter. It has a scene where a crazed character, played by Christopher Walken, points a revolver to his temple in a sick game of Russian Roulette. Violence always disturbs me, particularly when man’s inhumanity to man is clearly on display. War is all about guns of various sizes or which team is packing the most firepower. The war of attrition which is the Russian/Ukranian conflict, boils down to which supportive countries can crank out the most destructive munitions. Millions & millions of shells pound the ground, regardless of who might be walking there. Tanks, rocket launchers and now aerial drones are used to deliver a range of ordinance on a largely innocent populace.

When I was a teen I got a job in a general store that had a sporting goods section. One Saturday I got to work behind a counter where handguns, hunting rifles and boxes of bullets were sold. It was the only time I ever held a firearm. I remember feeling a mix of excitement and worry. I remember the elder salesman laughing at my timid manner.

Agendas that are prepared for meetings can have bullets. Weightlifters can parade their guns. My peaceful yet practical twitter friend admitted he viewed his gun as a tool. He did agree with my point that it was a very exclusive one: designed for one function alone.

Death dealing guns and bullets are weapons of mass destruction.

Re: Be

I woke from a dream in which I was playing the role of Romeo, and I had forgotten my lines. I substituted massively funny ad-libs. No one in the imaginary audience was laughing, neither were my acting colleagues. I had acted shamefully on this subconscious stage but my ego felt healthy as I chuckled myself awake. I got up and shaved humming the Gillette ad; “Be the best a man can be.” These quirky thoughts sent me into the day wondering what it means; To Be.

In some ways we become a being through our doing. Our actions, behaviours and creations enable us to define ourselves in a world filled with other individuals. The person we are, starts with our organic self, but when you factor in our ability to think and feel we open a spiritual plane. These soul thoughts will help us to become our true self. Being a human being carries a responsibility beyond our biological nature.

In another play by William Shakespeare, Hamlet mused; “To be or not to be, that is the question.” In my interpretation the titular character is filled with existential angst. On the surface he is trying to choose between life or death but I hear, “Who am I anyway?” Hamlet may profess to know Yorick very well yet he struggles to know himself. Just what is the essence of being, is the better question. Much to my sadness, my sister had a hard time being satisfied with a meaning behind life. To her, life was simply hard with intervals of manic pleasure. When those pleasures dried up she ceased to have a reason to carry on. Being requires meaning.

Books are part of my being to be sure. I have not always been a reader, boys tend to come to the joys of reading late. I truly have become better through reading. My library keeps a record of the books I’ve checked out. The list astonishes me in its quantity and variety. It’s a reading rainbow of authors’ views on ways to be a person. Life is a journey to discover who we are, where we fit in and what we stand for. In the film ‘Against the Ice’ the main character, an arctic explorer, is asked why he continues to put himself at risk. He confides that it is because he is good at it, that he plays the part well.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” is a line from Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’ Many people, men particularly, define themselves by their job. Military life is toasted as the be all and end all of purposeful employment: Become a man while seeing the world. I’m all for travel as a learning tool, but there’s that expectation of killing/dying for your country that puts me off.

Here’s a toast to your future, to our future:

Be still and know that I am everywhere

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know

Be still

BE