Tag: thoughts

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: Picnic

The word Picnic is so cute I just have to smile when I say it out loud. I’ve been on many picnics in my lifetime and they’ve all been perfect in their own way. Where ever you live, a meal enjoyed alfresco improves the taste of the food, no question. I’ve enjoyed outdoor feasts, snacks, suppers, barbecues and fireside weeny roasts. I’ve joined with others in traditional parks, in wayside rest areas, in rugged forests, poolside or on beaches. As a youngster I anticipated my father’s Company Picnic as a full summer’s day of free food, races, games, clowns and balloons.

In northern Ontario taking advantage of the great outdoors is a cultural imperative. My young family used to love gathering with other young families for winter picnics. We loved getting the spring season started early by tromping on skiis and snowshoes through sodden snow in mid April, digging out the picnic tables and making a blazing fire to summon the summer gods. On one such occasion we were startled by the sound of thunder in the distance. Our little kids thought we had disturbed a sleeping giant, when much to our surprise, rain poured down on our gathering while lightning gave the setting an electric light. Magical!

Another picnic tradition we held at that time in our lives was the annual day-before-school-starts-picnic. We kept the meal prep simple by getting a Family Pack Combo from KFC. Back then it came with a generously sized Sarah Lee chocolate cake. The five of us would consult on a favourite spot to dine. The mood was always mixed since I was a teacher losing my holidays, my homemaker wife would miss the daily joy of all of us being together, the boys would be mired in their own thoughts of new classmates, grade level expectations and having to wake up to an alarm. Somehow this early September picnic would soothe some of this drama.

After my first wife died it was a 5 star picnic that healed my wounded heart. When I discovered the courage to venture into the world of dating I was asked by a local beauty to a picnic that I will never forget. I went imagining hotdogs and beer. When we arrived at one of my favourite kettle lakes, she popped the trunk of her car to reveal a wicker picnic basket, colour coded bowls & containers, blankets & bottles: It was the real deal! I kid you not, there were six courses to this particular picnic du jour, yet there were many more courses of love to come.

Picnics make my heart lighten, remembering times with friends and family. Times of fresh air, abundant food shared with plenty of relish. I suppose there were ants, blackflies or other metaphorical pests to take some of the edge off the joy of the experience yet the dominant memory for me is of moments of bliss. A sniff of barbecued chicken, watermelon, a hot dog with mustard can transport me to a checkered blanket somewhere in time: My Happy Place.

Re: Confidence

Confidence is all about trust; in yourself, in others and in institutions. As social beings, trust is critical to our healthy existence. I think a great deal of the current emotional angst in the world is because we have lost confidence in what we thought was true. In fact truth itself has been under attack as one group or another has claimed they are the arbiters of truth. Tricksters in politics and business seem to be everywhere. Alternative truths (see: Lies) shatter confidence.

My mom used to like playing a version of the game of confidence. She would bait me into a conversation by asking me a question to which she already knew the answer. If it was about something I’d done she wouldn’t reveal she had inside information until I stammered out some nonsense story. It was a trap, and I fell for it for a long time. People get conned like this in phone and email scams. Why? Because we are generally trusting people and we have confidence that others will not harm us because, hey, we’re nice people.

On my best days I have an abundance of confidence. I feel capable even in potentially uncomfortable situations and I know my worth without being arrogant about it. When you see that in others it’s often referred to as charisma. When you feel it in yourself it’s close to being magical. Maria, in the film The Sound of Music, sings about this bursting urge to shine her light of confidence on everyone. This scene captures perfectly what I’m trying to say.

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

Having confidence in yourself and your belief system may make you naive but not ignorant. You don’t have to turn into a cynic because the rest of the world seems mean right now. I take care with whom I put my trust. Being older carries a certain amount of advantage when it comes to recognizing a charlatan when you meet one. Just the mere act of aging can be a real confidence builder. It seems to come as no surprise when we get congratulated so soundly for ‘making it’ into our seventies and eighties or nineties, even though we really haven’t done anything to merit the award.

I think of courage as different from confidence. The former is a spontaneous brave response that blocks out all danger. The latter suggests that you believe you can do something, even though you may feel fear at the same time. Confidence can be learned, bravery is quite simply miraculous.

Considering all the hurdles to jump in forming a relationship, I believe gaining someone’s confidence is the first step. When I think of how my love for my wife has grown I know it started with a trust that I could speak confidentially without fearing judgement. I had to see that she had as much confidence in me as I had in her. When someone believes in you, it can be such a boost to your confidence that anything possible can become a phenomenal reality.

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

Re: Dream

Rare is the night that I don’t dream while I’m asleep. Lately, I’m absorbing the world’s troubles and processing them somehow while in bed. Problem is, come morning, the result of all this subconscious mind spin is not resolution but exhaustion.

Dreaming holds a fascination. In my twenties I picked up lots of books on dream interpretation. Anything by Sigmund Freud I leapt on. Horoscopes held an amusing fascination. Texts didn’t have to be scientific in their approach to questions of a neural nature. I had the classic youthful dreams: going to school in underwear, being chased, escaping a locked room, peeking into a closet, running up an endless inclined plane, flying amongst the clouds. A recurring nightmare through my grade ten year had me staring at a dot in the distance, it got bigger as it approached, gained texture and, just before I identified it as a massive Brillo pad dripping with sticky honey, I woke shouting and in a sweat. I disturbed the household often enough that my mom considered taking me for therapy. To this day if someone asks me how I think I might die, I answer reflexively, “With a blow to my head.”

More positively, I believe I am a dreamer by nature. I love the way the word Dream appears in the songs I’m most fond of humming: Imagine, Dream Weaver, Rainbow Connection, I Dreamed a Dream. In this regard, here’s Rita Wilson singing one of my favourites.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Cm7U9SCFPk

I love to project my thoughts of a better future while daydreaming. I’m looking forward to spending long stretches of time with my grandkids exploring clouds and watching dragonflies. Dream Boards were popular for a while. Cutouts arranged in a collage for the wall or a private journal are made with intention, while dreaming of better days ahead. Wishing is a close cousin to Dreaming; it’s a projection of all that stuff going on in your headspace. Hopefully the wish can be made manifest in order to keep hope alive.

Our grey matter is a marvel. At times I feel may brain is like a massive parabolic antenna , picking up ideas, messages, multiple conscious musings from countless souls. I long to be tuned to the right channel. It could be a super power like Charles Xavier has as Professor X. I could tap into others’ thoughts not to interlope but to understand my own convoluted self just a little bit better.

During my first year of university I went on a date to see a student production of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. On the walk back to residence, the girl commented that I seemed like the main character to her.  I thought she was teasing, but I recognized that I had a brooding sort of personality. When we parted at her dormitory door, as if to make up for a potential slight, she kissed me on the cheek and called me a dreamboat. What a night! I strolled off to my room reviewing the words of the Danish Prince; “To sleep, perchance to dream!”

Re: Eight

I think the number 8 is great. It has awesome rhyming potential. I love its shape. There are no loose ends with eight, nothing sticks out. Just like the number 0 there is a beautiful continuity to its design; where you start is where you finish. I have a two digit number that I have called my lucky number since I was a kid but now that I am in my 80th decade I think I’m due for an update so I pick 8. It’s never too late to change your fate.

Apparently I’m not alone in liking this numeral. It is called the luckiest of numbers by the Chinese. This Canadian feels in good company since 1.4 billion souls can’t be wrong eh? I was born on the eighth so I don’t know why I didn’t choose it as my lucky number sooner, but I shall have no regrets. More significantly, when 8 is tipped over it assumes a horizontal position. The symbol for infinity, which in death I believe I am bound for: To the endlessness of time and space with infinite possibilities go I.

When I am lying on my back in my bed I find comfort in assuming a figure eight posture. I place my hands above my head and link my fingers. My knees come up, spreading my hips and I place the soles of my feet together. It’s the closest kind of yoga pose I can manage and it feels great to open my chest and pelvis at the same time. When I taught Brain Gym to my elementary school students one of the exercises was using chalk to make giant flowing infinity symbols on the chalkboard, smoothly arcing and connecting then arcing again, opening up cross cranial connectivity, joining left brain to right.

The reason we call Figure Skating what we do is because of the Figure 8, which was part of the compulsory program in competitive skating until 1990. I miss the almost scientific precision demonstrated by that practise, skate edges switching while curves were carved on the slippery ice surface. Nowadays you can create heat while learning to do a Figure Eight Workout to strengthen core muscles. Very watchable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJgBYvGZeN4

Choosing the number eight as my next life stage talisman bodes well. According to Angel Numbers, 8 signifies a sign of things to come, which is awesome because I’ve always been future oriented. It is also a potent source of energy, which I could really use in my declining years. When it comes to Numerology I’m not an eight, but that’s ok since my name adds to number 1 which comes with a very accurate description of my personality type: pioneering, leading, independent, attaining and individualist. This is a terrific offset to my introverted nature, so I can remain humble whilst in a crowd. I took an Enneagram Personality test and it matches perfectly: I’m 5&8 dominant so being born May 8th is a match made in heaven.

I think they’re going to like me up there.

Re: Appropriate

Sometimes it is hard to find the appropriate word. I have to take into account the way language evolves over time. Add to that the changing societal norms of acceptable usage, then it takes courage to speak or write what might be on my mind. I believe that freedom of speech requires an appropriate filter if I wish to engage in meaningful conversation. Reading helps me stay on top of current language trends. Writers can suggest uses of words or phrases in ways that sometimes seriously startle me. A challenging author can get to the how of life rather than dwelling on the why.  That’s a grander exploration than the dead end annoyance of why someone did or said something controversial.

Cultural appropriation is in the news. Artists are currently frustrated by criticism when they explore features outside of their domain. I wonder how we can get to that place of cultural understanding if we do not pretend or act out roles that are unfamiliar to us. I think that it is part of the learning process to appropriate ways that may be foreign. Perhaps that can be a way to walk a while in the other’s shoes. If we hold too fast to notions of exclusivity we are in danger of discarding the concepts of openness and inclusivity.

I have often felt outside. Luckily, belonging to a dominant culture allows me more freedom to be an outsider than someone who is already on the fringe or part of a minority. I get that being marginalized would make you hold on to what you have with greater passion, especially when your culture is being appropriated. Historically, The Doctrine of Discovery was a document legitimizing theft. It was a rationale for displacement and slavery. No one has a justifiable right to have their cultures appropriated by another. The appropriate English name we have for that is genocide: The ultimate form of appropriation.

Jesse Wente is a respected thinker and film critic. He has published a memoir called Unreconciled. While reading this book, I felt as though he was in the room with me, challenging my perceptions of inclusivity, patriarchy and colonialism with the gentle persuasion of a man honestly examining his own role in the world. In spite of my white skin and ancestry I recognized the truth of his life experience when I could relate it to the truth of my own existence. I could find a commonality even though we are not of the same tribe. I believe we share and value the importance of story telling in our individual lives. I felt closest to his words when I allowed myself to respectfully, in thought, tread where he had tread.

My high school was full of extracurricular opportunities. The many different clubs I joined helped me to understand my identity. Sometimes I found the membership requirements to be inappropriate to my goals, so I quit. I could always try another club. Sometimes my application to join a group was rejected, then I felt crushed. Words can break bones.

Re: Robert

In the beginning my folks created Robert. They argued over the name: my mom liked William while my dad, lover of ancient epic tales of bravery in battle, wanted to call me Paris. Settling on Robert, they called me that until their separate inevitable deaths. I can hear my dad calling me with love in his voice, however when my mom called, there was generally more force to her enunciation, “Raw-Burt!”

Even though Robert is displayed on my birth certificate, throughout my school career I was called Bob. That name is written on many of my school report cards beside teacher comments. On some trophies Bob Thompson would be listed as the recipient. To my recollection my parents never made a point of correcting the engraving. They were both always proud, as parents must be, with whatever I could accomplish. My first wife and all her family called me Bob since the pattern seemed set by the time I graduated university.

I’ve often wondered if a person becomes the name they are given. Bob is a run of the mill sort of name and I think that’s what I am: pretty basic. Both my first and last names are quite common yet I’ve never felt insignificant. Some friends have given me nicknames like Tommygun, Artie and Berto; all having a certain flair about them that makes me feel momentarily proud. My auntie has always called me Rob, which makes me smile. Shakespeare spoke of a rose by any other name, suggesting that it is the spirit that matters more than any artificial appellation.

Some cultural traditions allow for formal naming ceremonies at various stages in life. My present wife was once given a tribal name and I’ve always envied her for that honour. It would be awesome, but a bureaucratic nightmare, if we could switch names when we felt moved by circumstance to state we had gone beyond our birth name. In my case, after a bout of depression brought on by a midlife crisis, I opted to announce a return to my original name. I told my work colleagues and friends that I preferred Robert over Bob. I wanted to take a bit of my past into my future, eliminating the tag of my middle years. Drawing that distinction still makes sense to me.

Artists sometimes go by other names. Whether to protect, disguise or otherwise play around with their identity makes no matter to me. What a nom de plume conveys is an adventurous spirit; one who is willing to admit they are individuals with many facets. William Porter blossomed as O’Henry, Samuel Clemens had to find Mark Twain, Engelbert triumphed over Arnold, Calvin needed Snoop Dog, Lady Gaga outgrew Stephani.

Being AKA (not the rapper) has its benefits, sort of like dressing up for halloween. Having someone supportively comment that you look or act differently can be refreshing. I chose my Twitter handle @wh0n0z with that in mind: I can be the wise one who knows or, alternatively, the one to exclaim with a wink, “Who Knows?”

Re: Current

I’ve struggled against the current in my life. I’ve also gone with the flow. Several visits to water parks have provided metaphors for life: The exhilarating turbulent plunge from a great height down an almost vertical chute, The spinning disorienting journey through endless coloured pipes, The zen like perch on an inflated plastic donut floating down the lazy river. The flow of water continues to symbolize baptism, renewal as well as resignation. Currents can act as an instrument of fate or provide a jolt to the senses. I’m alive!

Surrendering to a current can be freeing. I remember feeling exalted when I got accepted into Teacher’s college. Previously, I’d been swimming away from my comfort zone in an attempt to realize a childhood dream. Changing direction gave me a different view. I got swept away by the promise of a year of purposeful study. I dove in to find this new course setting refreshing. I felt charged by the electrical current of fresh ideas. I put my compass in my pocket and trusted in the guidance of others to show me the way. I learned to value alternatives.

Changing one vowel in this theme word can create a whole other memory of nasty bits in cake. I hated currants whenever my mom added them to her Christmas fruit cake. The tiny black bits got between my teeth and didn’t marry well with the sweetness of the candied peel. They were bitter, gritty and totally spoiled the experience of this yuletide treat. Thankfully she would make two versions; a light and a dark. The light one was my favourite with plump raisins and an abundance of green and red cherries.

When I was an elementary school student, our teacher gave us daily current event assignments. We were to listen to a special news broadcast and answer questions about the items reported. This grade four experience inspired me and gave me my first feeling of success with school work. My current mother-in-law likes to stay up-to-date with her radio news. I like to debate with her 93 year old brain about the election coming up in her province. We talk about the candidates and the issues that are important to her. She generally likes to stay midstream whereas I sometimes argue that we need to totally change the course, speed and direction of the flow. Many times it becomes clear that we aren’t even in the same boat.

Currently I am in an eddy of time, slowly drifting without control. I’m becalmed in a sea of routine. It’s a familiar place. I know how to patiently wait until my craft finds the benefits of a Gulf Stream to alter my course and send me to new ways of being. Keeping thoughts current is a challenge when you’d rather be somewhere else. News of the world these days can make anyone feel as though they are swimming against the times. I’ll remember to value the stillness and enjoy some cherry cake until something better comes along.

Re: Prophet

Early every New Year media sources look for seers who are willing to share their predictions. I didn’t see many prophecies this year. Maybe Covid19 trauma has dulled our sense of tomorrow. In many art forms, visions of the future still abound. For example, from an episode of the viral apocalypse TV series ‘Station Eleven’ a character in an airport makes a speech to calm the crowd “There is no future!” the soothsayer declares. With that, those assembled begin talking about what they can do with the frightening realities of the moment. Living in the present is hard. I prefer the hopefulness of the future, while other souls cling to the past for comfort. 

World religions have a bazillion prophets. Characteristically men dominate the list. I have a sweet spot for Sarah, a woman more legend than fact, who lived to be 107 years of age. There is that guy named Joseph Smith, the Mormon founder and follower Brigham Young whose visions led to the deaths of many. In principle and for my tastes, prophets must lead by example, must not profit, nor advocate for exclusivity, status or ethnic cleansing. I have inwardly gasped when I have caught the holiness within others whom I have met. The thought that God might walk amongst us intrigues me. 

Clairvoyants fascinate me. They’re often referred to as people ‘ahead of their time’. A list of my personal oracles can include folks from many walks of life: Jacques Cousteau, Isaac Asimov, Rachel Carson, H.G. Wells, Desmond Tutu, Martin Luther King Jr., George Carlin, Peter Weir, Maude Barlow, Greta Thunberg are examples. From people like these I have felt subtly directed on a path to a full and responsible life.

I like a map to ease my wandering ways. I look for wake up signs everywhere I go: Indications of what might be in store for me. Sometimes these signals can be found in nature, other times I might be viewing a piece of art. Prophecy can be disguised in a time loop. I may not know if I am looking back from my older self or gazing through the bars of my crib. I’ll get a feeling that I’ve been here before. A familiar sense, a deja vu perhaps, comes over me telling me to pay attention. I’ve had some prophetic moments like this. I may not remember what I ate or wore that day but I’ll still recall the sense of being out of time. I’m learning to use this information.

When I began writing these entries I had several objectives, but I couldn’t have predicted that I would complete this one; my 200th personal essay. With humility I see myself following a wondering path similar to premier essayist and diviner Michel de Montaigne. Recording one’s passage is a bit like making a time capsule for the future. I won’t pretend to have a crystal ball. I can’t foresee what will become of me or others. I’m content being my own light.  I’ll continue to let it shine.