Tag: philosophy

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: 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: Wed

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the abbreviation of Wednesday is Wed., especially when you think how the mid-week day is affectionately called Hump Day. I’m being cheeky of course, because there is more to being wed than having sex, or whatever day you choose to enjoy that activity. To be wedded implies a union like no other, a bond that is more than just the sum of its parts.

My 95 year old special mom got me thinking about this word when she commented how the flavours of the stew my bride was making needed to take time to marry. “It’s always better the next day.” She stated. I thought about my marriage in that context and made her laugh by suggesting that her daughter and I, after twenty years together, must be very tasty indeed. Our conversation went to tales of marriages of convenience, shotgun weddings and also fairy tale romances, like in the film Princess Bride. I told her about a neighbour of mine who once had a delightfully amusing remarriage on the front lawn of their suburban home. They dressed in hillbilly clothes and, instead of kissing his renewed wife, the aging groom was encouraged to throw his bride over his shoulder and “Git!”

In some religions, marriage is a sacrament. To me, it’s a loving attachment that is mutually beneficial. I don’t believe that deciding to live together with others in a shared experience can be any less holy simply because of a lack of paperwork or an official stamp of approval. Being unwed used to carry a stigma and usually women suffered the disparaging remarks associated with shacking-up with someone or, gods forbid, not finding a mate and thus becoming a spinster! Society can be cruel when judgement defines its culture. My own children have taken marital arrangements in the broad sense of finding someone with whom they wish to share life.

I’ve had two different marriages: One was traditional with church service and reception followed by a honeymoon. A wedding so old fashioned in ceremony that my best man even read out telegrams we received from far away lands. We had a tiered cake. We lit two candles for ourselves, then used that light for a single candle to represent our union. The singing of hymns proclaimed our love. My second marriage was an elopement to a distant island where days were spent holding hands while strolling barefoot on the beach. Just the two of us, the music in our hearts. Some of our friends and family sent candles in our luggage as a beautiful form of blessing which added historical connection. Idyllic. Eden-like. A twinning experience. We faced the future together.

I’m wedded to the idea of the possible. Aspects of cultural formality in the eyes of society and church may have their place yet I prefer to think that structures are often arbitrary. I enjoy stories of humans who overcome convention in their work, recreation, and love lives. I still feel newly-wed. Learning about another soul takes a lifetime of Wednesdays.

Re: Loyalty

There are some values I not only don’t trust but actually shun. I’d go so far as to declare that loyalty is a moral principle that I reject. Loyalty does more harm than good, especially if it is a priority on your list of creeds to live by. The wrongness of this credo is evident to me in so many aspects of life. Yet in most people’s account book, Loyalty figures highly as worthy of respect. I put Love high on my value list so, please, let’s agree to disagree.

I’m binge-watching the television series Billions. In nearly every episode the notion of loyalty comes up. Shall I be faithful in my marriage, shall I honour my business partner, shall I be loyal to my clients whose money I am using to make myself more money? These are questions we see the cast pondering as they try to live fulfilling and exciting lives. To say their morals are non-existent is not being fair. The lesson the drama is teaching me is that being disloyal is the ultimate crime. Any consequence that comes from being disloyal is acceptable. Revenge is usually delivered on a cold plate, without a warm beverage. It’s a dog eat dog world when it comes to the power of money.

In my book of engaging in the social arrangement, allegiance might change from day to day. I figure that loyalty must not be blind, therefore it must be proven worthy by consistency, not history. It doesn’t matter to me that we ‘go way back’ if your current attitude or circumstance runs counter to my association. It’s not good for either of us to support a principle that undermines the common good. I can bend but not be tied in knots. Integrity, Health, Compassion, Courage, and Adaptability all trump Loyalty in my card game of values.

And speaking of Trump. This untrustworthy fellow is my Exhibit Number One in my assertion that loyalty is suspect in the court of human experience. Consider who the former president of the U.S.A expressed his fealty to! Not the American people, no siree! Despite being advised by some to avoid the likes of Putin, Assad, and Un, Trump courted these nasty individuals and fired those who opposed him for disloyalty. Trump is an example of what goes wrong in politics when loyalty is more important than honour.

If you define being loyal as having a commitment to another person then I have no disagreement. Once I have determined that a person is dependable I will have patience for most of their idiosyncrasies. However, I am not faithful to a fault because there is a limit in my loyalty bank and accounts are observed daily. To continue with the pet analogy; I guess I’m like a choosy cat rather than a devoted dog. A domesticated dog seems designed for unflinching devotion and we humans are all too often charmed by this misguided loyalty.

No wonder this four legged creature is referred to as Man’s Best Friend. He doesn’t know any better.

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: This

My bride and I were sitting side by side one morning, nothing unusual there. We were talking quietly, sharing confidences and sipping coffee from our favourite mugs. When the conversation turned to plans for the day she asked me, “What do you want to do today?” I answered, “This.”

Retirement gives me the luxury of choosing things to do based on THIS right here, right now. I love the simplicity of making decisions based on my present needs, wants and realities. No longer do I factor in thoughts of advancing my career, or even whether or not I have to go to work the next day. I’m also old enough to be free from the demands of parenting. As a society we talk a lot about time; the absence of it or the management of it. I’m learning that being away from a working day means I can better appreciate this moment.

This is a simple word to describe the present moment. That, by comparison, is a word suggesting the space and time over there, out of reach. Those, Them or even ‘Them Thar’ describe stuff that is beyond the present. I can get to those places if I want to. I can attend to them later or when the mood strikes. Them thar chores (if I’m pretending to imitate stereotypic hillbilly talk) can wait until another day. When I ponder the idea of these things I’m reflecting on a current desire to be here. Just here. Not there.

‘And now this’ is a lovely side segment on John Oliver’s television show, Last Week Tonight

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjSgBGD0Zw4

I love the way this comic host skewers convention and mocks the status quo. Sarcasm is difficult for me but I love to watch it done well by others. Under his guidance I can laugh at absurdities while letting him be the judge of stupidity.

One of my favourite magazines is called THIS. I relish its currency: Topics are topical. Each issue encapsulates the importance of being current, edgy and relevant to the Now of Life. THIS Magazine explores in an uninhibited way the importance of our present reality. An article may make me want to look in another direction but the authors’ points of view keep my thoughts clearly on this, not that, so for the length of time I’m reading I’m clearly in the here and now, not somewhere else.

‘This is it’ (Make no mistake where you are.) is a great song by Kenny Loggins. The songwriter wants us to be aware, “It’s here, the moment is now, about to decide/No one can tell what the future holds.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS52sEUqxMo

It’s a carpe diem sort of song. Make no mistake, the lyrics invite you to choose the current situation to electrify yourself. No time for second guessing. No time to search for the illusiveness of that. It may keep the menu of your life simple if you declare your choice for what is right beside you.

Re: Do

“What do you do for a living?” Is a question that can make me feel like running out of the room while screaming. You might as well talk to me about the weather if it makes you more comfortable. I don’t wish to be misconstrued, it’s not that I don’t mind describing my job. It’s just that my job doesn’t define me. If the rote questioner hears that I’m retired they will usually follow with, “What DID you do?” Oh brother! How about asking me about my hairdo?

What I do is actually not necessarily my job (or what it used to be). What I do is really the central reason for living. Doing things is the whole point to life. One of the best corporate slogans in the last century is Nike’s ‘Just Do It’. In three words the shoe company captured the essence of the Stoic philosophy. Many millennia ago western philosophy grew out of a Greek idea called Stoicism. This was a school of thought that proposed that the best indication of an individual’s philosophy was not what a person said, but how a person behaved. When considering the subject of Philosophy I find it mind blowing that so many ideas could percolate in what today we might call parallel worlds. I smile when I consider if there is significance to the founder of Stoicism being named ZENO and my interpretation of Eastern ZEN philosophy as being (doing) in the moment. Coincidence? I wonder eh?

I’d like to change the famous line in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, where the title character is examining his way forward, into “To DO, or not to DO, that is the question’. I believe that it is by doing that we become ourselves. Our doing shows us what works and what doesn’t. And it is perfectly all right to redo if the first try doesn’t meet your expectations. Life is certainly about picking yourself up after a fall. In the film City Slickers, Billy Crystal’s character tells a story about being a kid playing sandlot baseball and how in his rules you could have another try at bat if the ball went over the fence. He called it a ‘Do-Over’.

Musically, Cat Stevens is famous for his meaningful songs. A lesser known one is called ‘You Can Do, Whatever’. He sings of all the possibilities before us. A veritable smorgasbord of things to do. In our choices we become that which we have chosen to do. This wonderful poem, put to melody, is one I plan on singing/reciting to my grandchildren.

Part of my job as an elementary school teacher was to recite all the DOs and DON’T’s of the society my students were going to inherit. Unavoidable in a way, and necessary I suppose. Yet I feel my best lessons in class treated the DOs as WHAT IFs. When we start with who we want to be, even just for a day, then what we decide to do feels just right.