Tag: thoughts

Re: Perfect

Pronouncing this meaningful word can produce a wonderful shift in perspective. For example, when I write this essay I reread, edit and change many parts of its structure to perfect the final result. I am active in my pursuit of a readable piece of writing. Meanwhile, if I’m being honest, there are only a few times when I can say the result of this writing process could be called perfect.

I enjoy the act of perfecting something to a point. I admire those who have the discipline to achieve a top score in their fields. For example in the sport of gymnastics, I remember Nadia Comăneci achieving the impossible in the Montreal Olympics of 1976. It was such an unusual feat that the scoreboard wasn’t enabled to display a Perfect Ten. Her achievement still generates debate about athletic scoring to this day. There are philosophical arguments suggesting that if you remove the goal, by saying the highest level can actually be achieved, then you have done a disservice to the human impulse to strive. When I was a teacher, I liked to advise my young friends to; “Have a go!”, “Give it your best shot.”, or “Reach for the stars!” The beauty is in the attempt. The outcome will take care of itself.

Seeking perfection is a noble goal, sometimes achieved, but requires a devotion to daily practise. The fictional character Mary Poppins may pronounce that she is, “Practically perfect in every way.” Whereas most of us characters are mere mortals and prone to error. We wish to have a perfect life, a perfect body, a perfect performance report at work, or a perfect partner. I have agency for the first three in that list but the latter is more a matter of luck, which I have, praise be!

My life is not perfect, except if I say it is. Others might see that my standing in the world is to be envied. In this same way, I can get a rise in my heart when I hear someone describe their life with high notes of glee. I sometimes can create a perfect day, other times I just have the planets in my favour. Joy comes when I recognize that near-perfection is achievable, even when it occurs through a series of mysterious connections. Consider for a moment how we sometimes say, “This is perfect timing.” We are excited when things go our way. I used to think, after a run of bad luck, that I was somehow more deserving of a treat. I guess that might be how gamblers fool themselves when they consider the odds of winning.

If practise makes perfect then after much effort I trust we can tell ourselves that we shined for a moment, however brief. Each feeling of satisfaction over a job well done, is a moment in the sun, so I feel we are allowed to bask for a while. We don’t need someone to caution us about getting a swelled head, nor do we need applause. Just a healthy dose of self-satisfaction.

Re: Mystery

One of my favourite lines from a film is delivered by the owner of a theatre in early London. The movie is Shakespeare in Love and this character (played beautifully by Geoffrey Rush) is asked how the play he has sponsored can possibly go on. His reply is simple, “I don’t know. It’s a mystery!” Life is indeed mysterious and the wonder of it can flabbergast me.

Social media, as an art form, is an extension of theatre throughout the history of humanity. It is  a communication medium writ large and I’m loving the feelings of connection I get from the internet of things. I wanted to use the handle WhoNoz when I first opened an account on Twitter in recognition of this curiosity of our internet age. How I can have a relationship (even a virtual one) with someone in Australia by tweeting something on my computer and getting a follow back is a mystery to me. I like to think of myself as someone who knows some things. I acknowledge at the same time that I can’t know everything. It’s confusing and a bit contradictory, while thinking that I have an opinion, even though I’m no expert. I could just as easily lift my shoulders in a moment of exasperation declaring, “Who Knows?”

Many of my elders confess to loving mystery stories. Some pulp fiction writing is all about who did what and where. Even though I love the enduring character of Sherlock Holmes, I’ve never been a fan of the mystery genre of story telling. In a real life conversation I am often dismissive of the idea that getting to the why of things is an important objective. The mystery to me is discovering the how of making something happen. That is why I am thrilled by stories of quests. I want my characters, real or fictional, to boldly go forth on a mission of discovery. The question of how moves you into the future of stuff. I wonder what mysteries these adventurers will uncover. What truth will lay exposed after the search is complete? What lessons will be learned by the characters? Will I have found, by being a witness, that my life is more understandable?

Life deserves to be examined; each day awaits discovery. Even in a life that seems easy to describe there is mystery to be enjoyed. I’ve been taking medication for a heart dysfunction called Atrial Fibrillation. Recently I got an opportunity to have a surgeon try to correct the irregular misfiring of my heart muscles so that my beat is constant and predictable. Call me crazy, but I awaited the procedure with gleeful anticipation: Here was something new, that I could embrace, that just might make my health and my life better! I suppose one can accept mystery if one can be trusting in the process, just as Philipe Henslowe believed that the show must go on, back in 16th century England.

In my life I’d say that knowing, even when it’s hard to, gives me a positive bearing for my next step.

Re: Bond

Bond is a four letter word like Love. Of course when I say this word out loud I want to continue: “Bond, James Bond.” Being a film lover, I have much respect for the longevity of the Bond franchise (25 movies all told, unless you count the 2 rebel outliers). I read recently that the Broccoli caretakers are on the search for the newest iteration of this iconic spy character. Good luck to the producers as they navigate the sticky issues of misogyny, political correctness, sexual diversity, and national identities.

Love of any sort starts with attraction, then association, and eventually an adhesion of sorts. When we make a vow or sign a contract we have joined ourselves to another. Those ties are binding until we find the original circumstances have changed in some way or another. We all have certain attractions to things, both natural and unnatural. We feel bonded to our pets, our family, our friends, and our possessions. Those bonds can often be hard to explain, difficult to maintain and tricky to break. Emotion, history and convenience are involved.

My dad used a paper glue that brushed on and had light adhesive properties for his artwork. I think it was called rubber cement and it was designed for artists who needed something to tack gently to another surface, then after the material was removed the glue could be rolled off by your fingertips. He also used a fixative in a spray can to set his pastel drawings. I learned that, metaphorically speaking, some things are meant to stay fastened while other things may be better thought of as a hasty-note.

In high school I remember saying to a prospective girlfriend, “I’m stuck on you.” I think that’s a lyric in a song by Lionel Richie. Anyway that relationship didn’t stick around, so to speak. Much later I concluded my best emotional bonds were cohesive rather than adhesive. The former is a fixation on someone of similar disposition; like minds as it were. The latter is more about the phenomenon of opposites that attract (another great song by Paula Abdul). My longest lasting bonds have been with people, women in particular, who share similar philosophies of life with me. Birds of a feather, if you catch my drift.

There is a contrariness here when thinking of magnetic attraction. North and South poles on two magnets are going to snap together when brought close to each other. I’ve been with others where sparks fly causing fusion of ideas in spite of lack of commonality. This is not a case of like-attracting-like. It’s a question of Game On! And I know some successful human bondings that are the result of a connection between two people who many would consider to be polar opposites. In those cases there is mystery at work. Maybe it’s a hidden bond that holds them up along with the friction, like a bracket-less shelf.

I am bound to freak out when the next James Bond is announced. Don’t ask me to explain it.

Re: Opposite

War is the opposite of art. In the midst of compelling, heart-wrenching photos of the current wars in Gaza and Ukraine, art is being dimmed just as surely as lives are being extinguished. Art creates, while war is nothing but destruction. Art defines the best in humanity, while war denigrates mankind with every rocket launched, with every bullet fired, and with every anti-personal device exploded.

To be opposite is to be opposed. Opposition plays a key role in incidents of unfairness. When one side dominates it is right for the minority to speak up in rebellion. A call to arms is required if dialogue is downplayed, demonized, dismissed or otherwise disparaged. Everyone has a right to be heard and understood. Systems must be in place to protect the vulnerable, not trample over them. I get upset when I have to take a side: Life is nuanced, not black and white. Looking within the fold and shades of an issue, I see promise in the act of negotiation. Capitulation isn’t necessary when the shared goal is accommodating humanity.

War rhetoric is divisive. People on the opposite side of the line drawn in the sand are referred to as Nonpersons; humans devoid of respect or legal protection. They are “human animals”, as described by current Israeli Prime Minister B. Netanyahu when he speaks of the enemy Hamas. All sorts of words have been used through the ages to delineate the opposite side, whether in war or debate. The opposing team is the foe, the work of the devil, the pagan, the unwashed, or the undeserving. The pronouncement is made, thus the enemy is not requiring compassion. The slaughter can begin.

Some say that the opposite of war is peace. Others know that the only thing you need for the seed of war is indifference. I will play devil’s advocate by suggesting that intolerance begins the process of creating The Other. Making a contrary statement, even if it’s a lie, will get the argument going. Currently on social media sites, those who wish to incite disharmony are using AI Bots to spread discord. One small distortion, strategically used by Influencers, can cause havoc. Consider the folks in Springfield, Ohio who had to battle the abuse from folks who believed that its residents were stealing cats & dogs for food, after Trump said he had heard this on TV.

Debates are often seen as being an example of opposites not attracting. The recent Trump/Harris debacle showcased clearly for me that you can’t have a debate when one party is unwilling to discuss issues. Solving the issue of the day is looking at the double edged sword and trying to minimize the damage done to a course of action. Having a respectful debate, in my mind, is about seeing two sides of the same coin, then figuring out what to do when things flip heads or tails. Often the two sides can be complementary, even if we can’t be complimentary of that person on the other side of the arbitrary fence.

Re: Balance

Riding a two wheel bicycle takes balance. The spinning wheels help you keep on your determined path by creating centripetal and centrifugal forces. This feeling of being in motion while creating the power of locomotion is exhilarating and never gets emotionally tiring even if your aging body gets physically zonked.

Many self help books provide guidance about life balance. Keeping your body active is on the list of must dos to reach that daily goal of mixing your life up enough for maximal fulfillment. The sugar laden cereals of my childhood pronounced similar advice on the box’s colourful sides. “Part of a balanced breakfast” was a common nutritional slogan that merged with “Prize inside!” All promises designed to create an illusion of a better you. Buy our product, use your willpower and add a healthy dose of good fortune. In this regard Lucky Charms was a well named cereal even if most of the nutrition came from the milk you sloshed into the bowl.

Everybody has an opinion about a proper work/life balance these days. In reality that goal is about as easy to achieve as getting plates spinning on sticks (current record 108) like performers used to do on the Ed Sullivan Show. Many entertaining acts from the big top days were all about balancing skills: Jugglers, trapeze artists, tightrope walkers and horseback riders all had to have a finely tuned and trained sense of balance. We don’t work in a circus, although we may wish to run away to one sometimes.

Checking my bank balance can make me dizzy, especially if the news of the day has set my mind spinning. I’ll start to worry over the future and the state of imbalance on our planet. The one percent and the poorer 99 percent statistics show clearly how we are a Have and Have-not World. Then I suppose our Earth has never been scaled to justice. To mix the metaphor, the great pendulum of human history always keeps swinging and by virtue of momentum never stays at the mid point of the arc long enough for the common working folk to take a healthy breath before we have to get our bearings set on the next big thing.

And don’t get me started on the notion of balanced reporting when those of evil intent define that to mean that the hate mongers of the world get equal time with the peacemakers. It is being irresponsible to equate freedom of speech to equality of divisive rhetoric. Three minutes of misinformation does not balance three minutes of scientific fact. I try to consider the messenger when a news item comes up. Journalists have an important job to do, without them we would be at the mercy of the most powerful.

There is no balance to be found in pain and pleasure, regardless of whether you opt into S&M role playing as a hobby. And you don’t need to experience hurt before joy has meaning. Looking for a balance in our world can be frustrating because few things are as simple as those moments when we find ourselves coasting without effort.  That’s finding your bliss!

Re: Reflect

Reflection requires a certain amount of stillness which is challenging my body’s circulatory system. I’ve got a case of chilblains in my toes as a result of too much idle thinking which is freaking me out. I’m of an age where parts go missing or malfunction. I have a personality that is suited to pondering and puzzling so I think that should ward off dementia but it seems my body is being sacrificed while I attend to intellectual matters. 

My current three common activities are like the classic educational three R’s adapted as: Reflect, Read, wRite (the last one is a cheat but makes for the alliteration, so what). Truth is I prefer to reflect, rather than deflect. Issues are important for me. I probably dwell on general news items too much for my own good. I’m a good muller. I like to share my reflections when anyone cares to listen. My 95 year old special mom likes my cerebral wanderings and we often have great dialogues. Reflecting on stuff has helped with her memory and gives me insight into my own aging process.

We both read a lot during the day. She likes to listen to her audio books while my wife and I catch a film on television. Since she has a headphone set, it’s a fine arrangement so that we can keep track of each other all in the same room. It provides an Upscale Nursing Home atmosphere: Complete with kitchen privileges. When I ruminate on the way my life has changed with the advent of Elder Care, I’m glad I can see the humour at most times because when I glance at myself in the mirror I notice the telltale signs of stress and fatigue. I figure getting these observations down on this website will help me laugh when I have time to review these seemingly endless days of routine.

In years gone by I used to see myself reflected in my kids. My eldest I thought carried my enquiring mind, my middle son knew how to look on the bright side of life, and my youngest exhibited my peace loving soul. I pictured them growing up happy and, by and large, they have. To gain a perspective one must reflect. Narcissus of Greek myth fell into a pool because of a singular point of view so his story tells us to include others, resisting the vain notion that only our reflections count. 

Truth be told I rarely spend time examining my mirror image. My wife will straighten my mussed hair with gentle fingered caresses and that suits me just fine. She and I have developed a way of mirroring each other’s feelings so that conversation becomes more revealing. Our own individual thoughts can often lack clarity. Two people ruminating offers surprising revelations and outcomes. Like two songbirds playing off of each other’s melodies perhaps. In my retelling of Echo and Narcissus I see the two lovers being blessed for respecting each other’s uniqueness. That way they look into the pool in unison, loving what they behold. It’s a selfie!

Re: Self

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

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

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

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

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

Re: Know

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

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

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

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

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

Re: 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: Get

“You can’t always get what you want…” A Rolling Stones song can be a philosophical code for living a life of satisfaction. I once had a great conversation with a friend about getting it: The it being life’s meaning. We both agreed that what you got, when you thought about life, was directly proportional to how much you thought about your existence. Most days I get why I’m here, existentially speaking.

The word Get has a lot of use for its size. This small word is used without much thought because it makes the sentence flow. Consider that you might be told to get stuffed, get it together, get cracking, get a room, get a life, get going, get real, get over it, get lost or ‘just try to get along already!’ Get suggests a direction as well as a directive. Sometimes we get anxious about getting there. Other times we long to get back to where we once belonged. We save money for a get-a-way so that we can get together or because we must get off the hamster wheel. I often wonder if we get what we deserve.

When I was a kid we were encouraged to recite what we got for our birthdays. After Christmas the question, “What did you get?” rang through the classrooms. As we emptied our halloween containers we would spread our fingers through the loot hoping to find those candies that we wanted most to get. Thinking back now, I wonder if this desire to acquire was a step towards indoctrinating us kids into the consumer world. After all, a capitalist society is predicated on getting stuff.

As 2020 dawned the exclamation, “You’ll never guess what I got!” gained a morbid new meaning: I was among the many who got Covid19. As advised, I had gotten all the shots to try and prevent it but the virus found me anyway proving I was not as immune as I thought I was, and that vaccinations probably kept me from dying like the seven million global souls.

One of my pet peeves surfaces while I’m in a fast food restaurant. A customer will look at the menu board and state more than ask, ‘Can I get…?’ which sounds rude to me. The annoying part of me wants to turn around and ask if their mother taught them the ‘Please may I have…’ sentence starter. What I’m getting at is the same kind of feeling when someone non-accepts a thank you by saying, ‘Not a Problem.’ Oh well, we are what we are. At this part of the blog I’m thinking of Judy Blue Eyes: It’s getting to the point where I’m no fun anymore. I am sorry. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZGeU83K6Do

Harmonies by Crosby, Stills and Nash are at the blissful end of the vocal spectrum whereas a hillbilly yelling “Git”might be at the opposite pole. Language is forever fluid. I love it when I can capture the right word at the right time. It’s a Gotcha moment.