Hockey Gloves and Oyster Shells.

If you wish to become an expert on the game of hockey, you would familiarize yourself with the game, and if you wanted to master it, you would practice every single day until you became proficient at it. Writing is different, because these steps of logical self improvement don’t work.  You can examine the great literary works of history, but it doesn't guarantee that you'll be able to replicate their success. The content has to be something original that comes from deep within yourself, but neither can it be so abstract that it alienates your audience.

Anyone can write anything at any given time, but it doesn’t change the reality that it’s impossible to create something out of nothing. The problem is that the more that you read the more likely you are to repeat the ideas and structures that have become familiar to you. I could continue to whine and complain, but it wouldn’t come anywhere close to matching the languid soliloquies of our good friend Sydney Carton; so I might as well quit while I’m ahead.

I’m currently reading the biography of Howard Hughes. The telephone hadn’t been invented yet, so people communicated with each other via telegram.  It’s not hard to see how easily the intended message could have been misinterpreted.  The most humorous of these incidents that had unintentional results are recorded in the book.  - You would think the advent of the telephone would have helped to minimize those errors… but no, nearly 100 years later our preferred methods of communication are limited to 100 characters of text or less.

My point isn’t so much that history is doomed to repeat itself, but rather to illustrate our swiftness to dispose of reason and to replace it with cacophonous revelries. We somehow think that we are more human than our predecessors. Yet, we traffic children, harvest organs, and find ourselves enslaved to many of the very same vices. 

The term self-protectionism technically doesn’t exist, but I think that perhaps it should. We isolate the outcasts of society, and prefer to be indifferent, because it allows us to maintain our comfortable lifestyles. That’s not to say that compassion isn’t being shown anymore, but I’m convinced that we have an obligation to do a better job of going out of our way when no one else will.

...

Proverbs 31:8  Open your mouth for those who can’t speak for themselves. Defend the rights of the afflicted and needy.

Romans 12:16 Get along with each other; don’t be stuck up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody.

One of the greatest diseases is to be nobody to anybody. - Mother Teresa

Acoustics + Pickups

Thoughts abound as I walk down a winding path, in the twilight of an autumn evening. The reflection of the trees, in the dying moments of sunlight, etching themselves on water, only a murmured gurgle betrays the illusion of permanence.  Perhaps it is for this reason that the direction in which the mind travels when surrounded by nature allows for clarity to appear where there wasn’t any previously.

I don’t intend for this article to herald the intricacies of the correlation between mankind and the world he lives in. The danger is that it would be associated with the art of “new age” meditation. (My Mother certainly wouldn’t approve of that.)

I do, however, want to talk about the unique aspect of the human experience known as story arc and how it’s the only thing that validates our day to day existence. It’s impossible for us to see the future, but when we examine our past we are able to see how it has prepared us for things that we never would have expected to find ourselves capable of. It’s so easy to condemn the actions of another, but when we examine ourselves closely we discover that there’s a dark side that is most capable of unimaginable atrocities.

Shopping mall. Death tolls. Sarin Gas. Iran folds. 

Our tendency is to arrange everything that we experience as being relevant and necessary, if we wish to achieve our goals. The problem with this method is that our nature is insatiable. The point at which we become content with our arrival will never occur. 

In 1492 Columbus sailed the Ocean blue.  Like it or not, the earth is round, and that’s reality. Your life isn’t yours to dictate, nor does the script allow for any deviations. I’m not saying that free will doesn’t exist or that you don’t have any control of your fate, but there’s no question as to the significance of being woven into an inter-generational narrative.

Quantum theory uses math to construct abstract probabilities and images. This process is similar to the methods of observation that are applied to acoustic resonance.  This is interesting to note because, the responses are altered when the frequency changes. It’s easy to say that life follows a basic ashes to ashes formula…  but it’s much more difficult to analyze the arcs within the arc. 

My concluding thought is this: If Musical compositions can be created with nothing more than mathematical assumptions, does it not illustrate that our existence is only as random as our inability to quantify it? 

Gesticulations + Vacillations

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot will be shot.  - Intro. to Huckleberry Finn

I have scribbled out enough "bubbles”  with various blog ideas more than a dozen times now. (You would almost think I was a little kid with a brand new wand and soap solution.) People talk about writers block, but what they don’t say is that it has very little to do with the inability to write. It has everything to do with writing something that other people would enjoy reading. You could argue that writing should be viewed like abstract art; it doesn’t really matter what it looks like, it’s all in the interpretation of it. - I’ve read enough terrible poetry to know that the beauty must be conveyed in the imagery.

It’s really hard to write while listening to music, but sometimes it’s harder to sit and think about what I want to say when all is silent. There are times when I look forward to having time all by myself, but most often being left alone with your own thoughts is quite agitating. We can’t ever escape from managing all of life’s affairs. There’s a certain sense that somehow everything will manage to make itself right and that eventually all of our hard work will be rewarded.
                        
I’m not convinced that it works like that. State of mind isn’t contained by emotional parameters. - It’s the unknown operatives at work in the recesses of our subconscious that speak the loudest.

Dido sings a song titled “Life for Rent” and we all know that paying rent isn’t exactly a winning strategy. However, since we are only allotted a very small amount of time on this earth, it’s logical to conclude that it isn’t a permanent residence.

There are always those moments of unexpected insight, where you understand that for all your efforts there’s nothing you can do that will allow you to hold on to everything that you’ve worked for. It’s just you and the computational orb that sits between your ears.

Am I happy? I don’t know. Does happiness even have a definition? I hate when people bring up “It’s all about the journey” nonsense.Either it exists or it doesn’t. You can’t tell me that it’s merely a summation of slightly more positive experiences than negative ones. 

I'm not sure if there would be any point in trying to tie everything together with a singular thought of resolution... so instead I'll list some of the more interesting quotes that I've invented:

The conclusions that are drawn aren’t always indicative of the pending outcome, yet we interpret the results in such a way that they prove the previous assumptions to be correct.   – N.Windsor

They say that ignorance is bliss... but they never accounted for the multitudes of ignorant that missed the memo.  - N. Windsor

History is nothing more than a string of ordinary events flourished with embellishments. - N.Windsor

…

I know that I may have skimped on my usual amount of original content, but I’ve managed to compile a list of curious juxtapositions: 


Fishermen in PEI were sentenced for killing some bothersome seals.
Seal Killers Receive Sentencing

...Yet, a group of aboriginal hunters slaughtered an entire elk herd in Manitoba without doing anything illegal. Elk Kill: No Charges Laid.


The  American Medical Association voted to recognize obesity as a disease.
... but you can’t call someone who is mentally handicapped “retarded.”

It is illegal to wear a mask or otherwise conceal your identity during a riot or unlawful assembly.
… but you can park a First Nation on a major transportation route and nobody seems to care. 


~ That's all for now. Thanks for reading.

War Heroes

I’m on the verge of breaking; no not really, but it’s the first thing that my fingers typed. It’s most likely the fallout of not being disciplined about writing every week, but I will trust that it will get better from here.

I’m not at a complete disadvantage, because I’ve already predetermined the subject that I will talk about. I was checking the news last week and I came across two separate but related articles about issues that will most likely never be resolved.The articles were about the denial of sexual abuse, and harassment claims that have been filed within the RCMP  and the US Military.

There probably isn’t much point in discussing the problems and solutions in extensive detail, because the talking points will be well disputed for decades to come. However, I did have a brief conversation with a veteran of the Canadian Military. He told me that when their commanders asked them what they would think about allowing women to fight alongside them. They were asked if they had any objections. Their first concern was about what would happen if they were captured. The very first thing that your enemy will do is humiliate and belittle you; and they felt they were concerned that they would be taken advantage of. Their second objection was in regards to their own comrades; they made special note of the fact that “men are pigs.”  

I’m hesitant to weigh in with my own thoughts, but I was left with a couple of questions. Has any progress been made in regards to “equality”? Is it possible, or is just an ideological aim? Do the consequences, as unintended as they may have been, outweigh the benefits? 

What would happen if the "machines" that  we send to war were allowed to have a conscience? 
 The famous words of AlfredTennyson ring truer than ever when they are framed in this context.

....  Someone had blunder'd:
      Theirs not to make reply,
      Theirs not to reason why,
      Theirs but to do and die.

It’s something to think about anyway, hey?

Also, if you have not yet watched it: The Invisible War is a very compelling documentary that chronicles a staggering number of infractions.

Snapshots.

I'm not a particularly sentimental type of guy, but I thought that it would be helpful if I were to keep a record of some of my thoughts as I watched my Grandpa pass from earth into eternity. 

He was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in December. It didn't take long for it to run it's course. 

April 16

Last night I took my Grandma up to visit my Grandfather in the hospital. There are many thoughts that never occur to you until you are put in that type of situation. The first thought is shamefully obvious. If they hadn’t of done it… I wouldn’t be sitting here.  Then I had a thought that went one step further. I watched as my Grandma did all sorts of small things to make him more comfortable. What would my life look like, if they hadn’t invested themselves in each other and their family? I can’t help but think that things wouldn’t be nearly as good as they are if they hadn’t.

The day I turned 18 was a long anticipated day. I applied for a credit card, in hopes of building up enough credit so that I could take out a loan when I needed it. I still don’t think it really sunk in that I was responsible for everything in my life until I asked to borrow $20.00 from my parents to buy a new pair of jeans. - They said they would do no such thing.

The 25^th year on planet earth is equally unwelcoming. It’s the first time that I’ve encountered the subtle realization that now there is only one generation left standing between myself and death. I can so clearly see the pain, and stress that is so evident on the faces of my family members as they wrestle through all of the unexplainable emotions, and I’m not looking forward to the day when I too will feel it so acutely.

April 22, 2013

The finish line is well within view. It’s a very difficult time. There is so much agony that finds all sorts of ways of expressing itself. My Dad is stressed out, and doesn’t seem to remember anything he had told me earlier in the day. My Grandma can’t sleep, as she is intent on making sure that all of the arrangements are in place. Should we ask for 3 songs or 4?

 They question whether or not they should have been praying for God to do a miracle, or if it is truly his time to go.  It’s not an easy thing. I can’t blame anyone for treating anyone else in less than a personable manner.

Skin stretched so thinly over skeleton.

I always imagined that the human skull would have been smaller.  The odour is very peculiar. I wasn’t able to pinpoint it, but it wasn’t like most offensive odours that diminish with time. It’s persistent, and, even now, I can smell it on my clothes.

There are times when the euthanasia debate suddenly becomes far less black and white. I’m not saying that I would ever want to be held responsible for making that sort of a decision, but it’s so incredibly hard to watch someone work so hard for every breath.

The last thing I said to my Dad before I left the hospital was, “Are you coming home tonight?” His response was, “Not unless…”

April 23, 2013

My Grandfather passed away this a.m.

I don’t have any particular emotions that are tangible, or evident.

The hospital staff all said he would pass yesterday, but he was tougher than they thought.

I’m proud of him, and I am really looking forward to being able to find some time to go and sit by myself and think about all the things that he taught me, and all those important moments that I didn’t take much notice of as a child.

I truly appreciate everyone who has offered their condolences. 

Thanks for reading. 

All I wanted was to rip life away from the jaws of death   - Post Mortem Blues

The Keyboard Listens.

Why is it that you can have success on many fronts, but lose ground in areas that should be easy to master? Even if I was able to unravel the mysteries of the universe I still wouldn't be able to provide any insight into the unpredictable nature of emotional responses.  Emotions have such an uncanny way of sending everything in to either a state of chaos or an irreversible lock-down.

There was a time when I would type things on my keyboard in hopes that they would be prayers to God. I wouldn’t bother to turn the computer on. Instead I would let the thoughts vanish into oblivion.  

I would like to tell you that if we spend enough time working things out eventually we’ll discover that there is answers to all that is unknown. Perhaps one of my friends said it best. “Nothing doesn’t ever not make sense.”

It was not that long ago that the world watched as Lance Armstrong publically made his confessional to his priestess.  I was anxious to hear what he had to say, secretly hoping that he’d have something unexpected to say. I watched the first segment, but I found the second so intolerable that I turned it off part way through. I can’t say that I felt sorry for him, but at the same time I couldn’t help but wonder about the nearly unanimous voice of outrage that the public has expressed.

When we take the time to examine human nature, we discover that nearly every single person on this planet would do exactly the same thing; if they thought that they could get away with it. The difference between lying about what you did last night and lying on national television is merely the size of the audience.

How could I condemn the actions of another, when my own are criticized on a daily basis.  People will never live up to our expectations of them.  I believe that this is a true statement, but it also reveals a coexistent dichotomy. - I find that since my comments on CBC news articles are consistently reported as abusive, instead of commenting at all, it is more rewarding to simply report all of the typos. Grammatical errors are much like the guy who cheats on his wife; the problem doesn’t go away, unless there is a course of corrective action

I recently had a conversation with a man who told me that even though his son is in jail, it doesn’t mean that he loves him any less. There is something special that his Father sees that many do not.

The sentence that the Judge delivered will most certainly have an effect on his life, but only in some ways. It is still the responsibility of each individual to walk out of the courtroom and decide to make the most of every single day.

An elderly man in our community offered to let my sister set up her business in his building without having to pay rent for the first several months, as his way of helping her get on her feet.  There’s something so intriguing about how and why someone would offer to help a complete stranger.

It’s this sort of benevolence that reminds us that there is a thread of common good that runs through all that is amiss… and that life is beautiful… even though it might not all be bliss.

Ode to Joy

I’m sitting here listening to Indie tunes; trying to let the music carry me to a place where things like death don’t matter so much.

Death is not a topic which isn’t often thought about. We avoid introspective self-evaluations unless there is reason to think about them. I’ve ridiculed people for doing this… and perhaps it’s too early, or maybe it’s too late, but when someone you know is nearing the finish line… it becomes necessary to think about all that matters in life.

I’ve often thought that I would like to have my headstone engraved with an original quote. My plan is to publish a book full of them. It’s not going to be an easy decision, but it will be much easier than writing an obituary. I have reason to believe that I will be asked to do just that. The thought is so daunting that I thought I would write this article as a way of working out how I might approach it.

It’s not that I presume that I have the best things to say… but I do have the ability to arrange words into eloquent strings of coherent thought.  If I do my job right, people will be reminded that there was good reason why they left the house to come to the funeral.  In many ways it is expected that kind words and thoughts should embellish upon things that never were. I understand that it’s about showing honour and respect, but I’ve also come to the awful conclusion that regardless of how important an individual was, their tribute must be as economical as a sheet of 8.5” x 11”

This is the point where you will tell me that I should consider outsourcing.  I’ve read run the advertisements.  Each funeral home competes with the other on its ability to provide “optimum convenience.” They even offer to write the obituary as a way to minimize“stress” on the family.

There’s nothing worse than reading a tribute about someone that talks about how much they liked to watch sports, and make jig-saw puzzles.  If the intent is to be as superficial as it sounds, than allowing a perfect stranger to summarize the life of a loved one is probably worth the $50.00 add-on.

The thought occurred to me that I might very well request that my future wife not wear black to my funeral, but I wouldn’t want her to wear red either. It’s a rather stupid death wish, but I fully expect that she will honour it. The symbolism, in this case, is theoretically more important than the accurate reflection of her emotional state. 

It would be so interesting to witness human existence with a bird’s eye point of view. When I first started writing this article this phrase came to mind: Relevant knowledge of the most frustrating nature.

That’s exactly how I must conclude, because there is no resolution. We can observe it happening, and that is all. My views may seem ridiculous, and a tad bit melodramatic, but I have a proposition for you: If I die, instead of spending 3.5 hours staring at my ghostly figure…  give your time to someone who could use a friend.