I’m restless.
Today is February 16, just a week and a half from March, or as a friend pointed out today, “Just 26 days from daylight saving time!” As I sit here at my computer, the sun shining through the window feels extremely hot, a total contradiction to the severely cold wind chill outside.
When I began blogging, I created a word document where I could keep my ideas for future blogs and work on them until they were completed. In some cases this has been successful while in other cases it just sucked. But here on this day, when it’s really too cold to go snowshoeing or play with stuff in the garage, and I can’t seem to concentrate enough to read, I thought I’d compile some of those ideas into a more complete state and share them with you.
Following up on a previous post’s theme of Meditation, serendipity has once again come to visit, and slap me into awareness.
Since that post was added to my blog, it seems every magazine I read, every internet forum, every You-Tube video, has had some reference to Meditation. I’ve been on this planet long enough to know that when these things happen, I’m supposed to pay attention!
Before Christmas, probably as early as October or November, I had come across a series of You Tube videos about the life of Jazz drummer Jerry Granelli. I met Granelli once several years ago when he performed in Sydney NS. While his drumming was beyond anything I’d witnessed in person, he was an extremely humble and gracious man. At the time I met him, and for several years after, I had no idea of his enviable history.
Jerry is also known and admired by my friend Roger Strange whom I have looked up to since I met him in 1985. Roger also has an enviable history dating back to the late 1950s. He has worked and studied with an impressive line of big names and has many amusing anecdotes which he is more than happy to share over coffee or on breaks when he performs.
Through our discussions of drums and drummers, Roger has been a great source of education to me. I have learned the essence of drumming “in the moment,” to play spontaneously, reacting to the stimuli surrounding us. I began to wish I had more opportunities to play Jazz, to have the freedom of spontaneity. The kind of music I play is quite structured, the patterns well-known to all musicians and audience alike. There is little freedom for improvisation.
Zen is like Jazz; there is no time other than this micro-second known as “now,” and even in the process of saying it, it is gone. Zen teaches that life cannot be planned. While one can prepare for possibilities and/or eventualities, life is seldom that simple, and situations and people change and with those changes our plans must also change.
Life also cannot be changed after the fact. That’s generally a “given” in our society where statements like “you can’t change the past” become so commonplace, we often don’t stop to recognize the inherent wisdom in them.
Remembering back to the day I saw Granelli perform, I was carried away by the way he played. He did not try to recapture past moments through repetition, nor did he “set up” the moments yet to come... he played, eyes closed, head back, so completely in the moment; a part of it.
It was during an e-mail conversation with Roger that I was reminded that within the restrictions of the songs I play, there is plenty of room to play in the moment; the fills I play at the end of verses and choruses, the extra long intros when a vocalist isn’t prepared to start on time, the additional chorus or guitar solo when the crowd is really into our music... Yeah, I play Rock music with a Jazz attitude; flexible, in the moment.
Part of today’s restlessness is the sunshine making me miss my bicycle. As you know, I am quite passionate about that; I’d say it comes second only to my drumming.
I had become involved with Velo Cape Breton in late 2008, just before I bought my Norco Mountain bike. I knew right away I needed the structure of a club to keep me motivated and the educational value was priceless. I proceeded to take Can-Bike 1 and 2 courses, and am planning to go for my instructor’s certification as soon as practically possible.
One of the most important issues for me is bicycle safety. I’m not sure why, but motorists seem to have a grievance against cyclists over fifteen years of age. As long as you’re a child on a bike, it's acceptable, but as soon as you’re old enough to drive a car, you’re expected to not ride a bike. That to me seems ludicrous, and Velo Cape Breton, as well as many other clubs, both formal and informal, is proof of this.
While doing an internet search one evening looking for safety tips, I came across the Ride of Silence, and was immediately drawn to it. “This is something that makes a very clear statement, without saying a word,” I thought. I brought it to the attention of Velo Cape Breton’s Jacques Coté, and asked if it was something he thought should be looked at for this area.
Fast forward to early May 2010, and Jacques had taken it upon himself to have a Ride of Silence organized and advertised. As soon as I was aware that it was proceeding, I e-mailed all my friends and talked it up as much as I could. The ride drew over sixty riders of all age groups and from every walk of life and riding style, from casual infrequent riders to hardcore racing/triathlon riders.
This year’s ride will take place on May 18th beginning at 7:00 PM at the Sydney River Superstore, 1225 King’s Road Sydney River NS. Details will be coming forthwith, but we are clearly still in the initial stages at this point.
Finally for today, my thoughts turn frequently to my friends of the late ‘90s; friends with whom I would meet at a local coffee shop and discuss several topics for hours on end. We seemed to create a “learning vortex” within our circle; they, still in University with their minds alive and on fire, I with my many years experience in “real world” activities, and our mutual interests and open-minded desire to know more about everything. We shared knowledge and all became better for it.
I miss those friends a great deal. The human mind needs stimulation, and becomes weak, stagnant without it. This is what we gave each other; often expressing several points of view and sifting through the facts and fantasy to find mutual ground. With these young brilliant minds no longer here, I sometimes feel isolated and alone. Thank the Deities for the internet which allows us to stay in touch and occasionally have those deep meaningful conversations again.
So I send shout-outs to Mike, who is now a Friggin’ PHD in Edmonton. I love you my Brother, and your beautiful wife too. To Bobbi, who is closest geographically, in Dartmouth, letting old dogs teach her new tricks as it were. I will never forget the night of February 14, 1997, when you kept me laughing for hours and then held me when I could no longer hold back the tears. I love you with a grateful heart. Kevin, the funny one; you made us ALL laugh and found ways to point out the absurdity of taking things too seriously. I am happy your new life in Japan is rewarding and fulfilling. Together with your lovely wife and incredibly cute little son, I know you will continue to see the lighter side of the Human existence. Finally, to Tony, the Departed one... Your curiosity, wisdom, and incredible capacity to embrace life showed us all that life is indeed to be embraced for in the end it is all too short. Rest in Peace Tony; we love you still. Om, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti...
I love all of you for the friendship you have given me and allowed me to return to you.
~Still Wandering…
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Honouring our choices...
This time of year, things begin looking a bit bleak and drab. The grass is brown and the trees are dark gray. Some of the trees have suffered broken limbs from the high winds, while others, in wet ground, have been pushed over; their roots no longer held fast by dry ground. When there’s snow, it has a layer of coal dust on its surface, adding to the drabness of the winter.
Going into Glace Bay or Sydney, the debris on the side of the roads adds to the sense of neglect; the residue of salt turns the road’s surface a dirty white, empty coffee cups, cigarette packs, and fast food wrappings litter the side of the highway.
It was from this mind-frame that I found myself retreating earlier yesterday. I had my MP-3 player and ear buds with me and I decided to take solace in my musical medication. I had received my pay from one of my teaching jobs and it didn’t seem to be very impressive and I could feel myself slipping into despair.
I have always used music to enhance, alter, or even distort my experiences and moods, and yesterday, I was rather delighted to find the music that came on was that of Idan Raichel, a young Israeli musician who is known for his collaborations with musicians of other nationalities and religious backgrounds. I had become aware of him when a friend of mine sent me a You Tube video of his collaboration with India.Arie.
This made me think of another artist I had discovered on You Tube as well. (I sometimes have these “Domino” moments where one thought will lead to several other similar ones.)
At any rate, I began to think of all the wonderful music that I have heard in my life, and the comfort it has given me in times of emotional discomfort, and for a moment I felt connected to the musicians who created that music.
I know on some deeper level that I am connected to them. It is a fallacy of western culture that we are all separate; Man separate from God, Man separate from Woman, Man separate from other men of other cultures, white separate from black, and so on... but Eastern cultures and ancient ones, from the Druids to the Indigenous peoples of all continents, believed in the interconnectedness of all life. It stands to reason that if all we know and experience is derived from that pivotal nanosecond we know as the Big Bang, then we would all be connected to that; evolved from that, a part of that.
As the ethereal sound of the music carried me away from the drabness of a Cape Breton January, I allowed it to carry me back to the peace and tranquillity of a late January afternoon in Cape Breton.
A year ago, I was settling in, returning from Fredericton where I had hoped to live out my days. In the time since then, I have at times laboured with my decision to return, at other times rejoiced.
As I sit here in the semi-darkness, the room lit by the computer screen and the streetlamp outside on my driveway, I am gripped by the familiarity of this place. I have lived in this house for twenty-two years this spring, longer than I have lived in any other place. It has been as much a part of my life as was the house my parents built. What I see from my window is actually more familiar than the view from the windows of my first home.
The song that was featured in the You Tube video my friend sent me spoke the line, “We can debate till the end of time who's wrong and who is right, Or I can honour your choices and you can honour mine.“
... And I can also honour my own choices.
~Still Wandering...
Going into Glace Bay or Sydney, the debris on the side of the roads adds to the sense of neglect; the residue of salt turns the road’s surface a dirty white, empty coffee cups, cigarette packs, and fast food wrappings litter the side of the highway.
It was from this mind-frame that I found myself retreating earlier yesterday. I had my MP-3 player and ear buds with me and I decided to take solace in my musical medication. I had received my pay from one of my teaching jobs and it didn’t seem to be very impressive and I could feel myself slipping into despair.
I have always used music to enhance, alter, or even distort my experiences and moods, and yesterday, I was rather delighted to find the music that came on was that of Idan Raichel, a young Israeli musician who is known for his collaborations with musicians of other nationalities and religious backgrounds. I had become aware of him when a friend of mine sent me a You Tube video of his collaboration with India.Arie.
This made me think of another artist I had discovered on You Tube as well. (I sometimes have these “Domino” moments where one thought will lead to several other similar ones.)
At any rate, I began to think of all the wonderful music that I have heard in my life, and the comfort it has given me in times of emotional discomfort, and for a moment I felt connected to the musicians who created that music.
I know on some deeper level that I am connected to them. It is a fallacy of western culture that we are all separate; Man separate from God, Man separate from Woman, Man separate from other men of other cultures, white separate from black, and so on... but Eastern cultures and ancient ones, from the Druids to the Indigenous peoples of all continents, believed in the interconnectedness of all life. It stands to reason that if all we know and experience is derived from that pivotal nanosecond we know as the Big Bang, then we would all be connected to that; evolved from that, a part of that.
As the ethereal sound of the music carried me away from the drabness of a Cape Breton January, I allowed it to carry me back to the peace and tranquillity of a late January afternoon in Cape Breton.
A year ago, I was settling in, returning from Fredericton where I had hoped to live out my days. In the time since then, I have at times laboured with my decision to return, at other times rejoiced.
As I sit here in the semi-darkness, the room lit by the computer screen and the streetlamp outside on my driveway, I am gripped by the familiarity of this place. I have lived in this house for twenty-two years this spring, longer than I have lived in any other place. It has been as much a part of my life as was the house my parents built. What I see from my window is actually more familiar than the view from the windows of my first home.
The song that was featured in the You Tube video my friend sent me spoke the line, “We can debate till the end of time who's wrong and who is right, Or I can honour your choices and you can honour mine.“
... And I can also honour my own choices.
~Still Wandering...
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Two Minutes to a Quieter Mind.
Yesterday, a good friend and frequent cycling partner sent me a link to a website that quite surprised me. When the site loaded, I saw a beautiful image of a sunset over an ocean, accompanied by the sound of waves and sea birds. A digital clock began counting backward from 2:00, 1:59, 1:58...
“Do nothing for two minutes...”
I don’t think ten seconds had passed when I began counting along, barely able to wait until two minutes had passed. 1:10, 1:09, 1:08...
I had been introduced to Meditation several years ago by more than one friend at roughly the same time. The serendipity of that was enough that I took a closer look at the idea. Some suggested lighting a candle and focusing on the flame; others suggested listening to soothing music. I tried them all. I looked into various Meditation techniques, from following my mind’s wanderings, (without trying to control the thoughts that arose) to pushing those wanderings away and vowing to deal with the things that came up at a later time.
I discovered that by following my mind’s wanderings, I made many discoveries about my mind and the way it works. It “took me places” I would not ordinarily go in terms of the kinds of thoughts I would have during that time. By attempting to hold thoughts away, and focus only on my breathing, I became aware of the influx of thoughts and holding them off was very difficult. I tried to follow briefly and then push away the thoughts and once I started pushing, other thoughts would come to replace them.
Regardless of the method I used, regardless of the results, I began to feel like I was making some progress. I was able to calm my mind during times of stress and confusion, and I was feeling less frustrated and angry with everyday living. I was able to extricate myself from the darkness of depression that had been my companion for so many years.
Slowly, over time, my confidence that I had succeeded in Meditating myself into a better mental state led me to let longer periods of time pass between Meditations. Sometimes two or three days would pass, sometimes a week. Eventually, I was Meditating only once a month or so, and finally, about a year ago, it stopped altogether. Moving from Fredericton back to Cape Breton, and all the details of that move, made such demands on my time and the state of my mind, that I quite literally forgot to take that personal time to tune the world out for a few minutes every day.
To be fair, I think there were some times when I was cycling that approached Meditation in its simplicity. The up and down stroke of the pedals, the non-conscious shifting of gears, the lack of other stimuli all seem very Meditative in retrospect, yet the heightened awareness of my surroundings; the sound of traffic, the avoidance of obstacles in the road, the “knowledge” that a dog’s body language indicated that it wasn’t going to give chase, all resulted from a Meditative State of Mind.
So when I received the link to “Do Nothing For 2 Minutes” I was alarmed at how difficult it seemed. It came as a cold, cruel reminder of just how out of touch with my inner self I have become lately. In following e-mail conversations with my friend, we both stated how much we would like to make this a regular part of our respective days. I had even mentioned to him that doing it a few times daily would be helpful. After all, unlike medication, Meditation truly DOES work on the principle that if a little is good, a lot is better!
Here, in case you missed it above, is that link for those of you who would like to try it. http://www.donothingfor2minutes.com/
I encourage you to share your experiences, either in the “comments” section below, or directly to me in a personal e-mail for those of you who have my e-mail address.
Om, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti...
~Still Wandering…
“Do nothing for two minutes...”
I don’t think ten seconds had passed when I began counting along, barely able to wait until two minutes had passed. 1:10, 1:09, 1:08...
I had been introduced to Meditation several years ago by more than one friend at roughly the same time. The serendipity of that was enough that I took a closer look at the idea. Some suggested lighting a candle and focusing on the flame; others suggested listening to soothing music. I tried them all. I looked into various Meditation techniques, from following my mind’s wanderings, (without trying to control the thoughts that arose) to pushing those wanderings away and vowing to deal with the things that came up at a later time.
I discovered that by following my mind’s wanderings, I made many discoveries about my mind and the way it works. It “took me places” I would not ordinarily go in terms of the kinds of thoughts I would have during that time. By attempting to hold thoughts away, and focus only on my breathing, I became aware of the influx of thoughts and holding them off was very difficult. I tried to follow briefly and then push away the thoughts and once I started pushing, other thoughts would come to replace them.
Regardless of the method I used, regardless of the results, I began to feel like I was making some progress. I was able to calm my mind during times of stress and confusion, and I was feeling less frustrated and angry with everyday living. I was able to extricate myself from the darkness of depression that had been my companion for so many years.
Slowly, over time, my confidence that I had succeeded in Meditating myself into a better mental state led me to let longer periods of time pass between Meditations. Sometimes two or three days would pass, sometimes a week. Eventually, I was Meditating only once a month or so, and finally, about a year ago, it stopped altogether. Moving from Fredericton back to Cape Breton, and all the details of that move, made such demands on my time and the state of my mind, that I quite literally forgot to take that personal time to tune the world out for a few minutes every day.
To be fair, I think there were some times when I was cycling that approached Meditation in its simplicity. The up and down stroke of the pedals, the non-conscious shifting of gears, the lack of other stimuli all seem very Meditative in retrospect, yet the heightened awareness of my surroundings; the sound of traffic, the avoidance of obstacles in the road, the “knowledge” that a dog’s body language indicated that it wasn’t going to give chase, all resulted from a Meditative State of Mind.
So when I received the link to “Do Nothing For 2 Minutes” I was alarmed at how difficult it seemed. It came as a cold, cruel reminder of just how out of touch with my inner self I have become lately. In following e-mail conversations with my friend, we both stated how much we would like to make this a regular part of our respective days. I had even mentioned to him that doing it a few times daily would be helpful. After all, unlike medication, Meditation truly DOES work on the principle that if a little is good, a lot is better!
Here, in case you missed it above, is that link for those of you who would like to try it. http://www.donothingfor2minutes.com/
I encourage you to share your experiences, either in the “comments” section below, or directly to me in a personal e-mail for those of you who have my e-mail address.
Om, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti...
~Still Wandering…
Sunday, January 16, 2011
POTY Award!
At the annual Velo Cape Breton pot luck dinner and awards ceremony held at the Dobson Yacht Club on January 15, 2011, I was given the “Participant of The Year” award. I had been informed in advance that I had been nominated for something, but it was not revealed in what category. Jacques Coté is very good at keeping secrets. I speculated for days; “Most rhythmic rider?” (I am after all a drummer.) “Most outspoken?”
Finally, the time came to deliver the awards. As Rides Captain and all round great guy Peter Ross named the nominees for “Participant of The Year,” myself, Colette Smith and a third party whose name I can’t recall (my apologies) I felt it would go to one of the other two. After all, I didn’t participate in many of the group rides, my playing schedule keeping me out late the night before.
As Peter described the events that followed the disappearance of his bike after the Can-Bike II course in May, I understood slightly why I had at least been nominated, but I did not scour the city in search of Peter’s ride so that I would win an award. I did it because I had a bicycle stolen from me in 1982 and I remember the pain of that loss.
Bear in mind that at the time of the theft, I knew nothing of Peter beyond his role as Rides Captain and all round great guy. All I knew was that someone had stolen his ride and that was very uncool.
In truth, when I spotted his bike leaning against the side of the Needs Convenience store on George Street, across from Wentworth Park, I was on my way home. I stopped and there were three teenage males, two with skateboards, standing in front of the store. I asked if they’d seen who brought the bike and they replied “no.” I jumped to a conclusion and assumed that they had been involved (not too reliable in a court of law) and proceeded to unfasten my carrier rack to add Peter’s bike.
Once the bike was secured to my vehicle, I took it to the home of Jacques Coté and Micheline Guillot since I had no idea where Peter lived. Micheline was happy to accompany me to Peter's house and return his ride to him.
So, if doing a good deed for a fellow Velo rider is worthy of an award, then I accept gratefully, but I did only what I would hope anyone would have done. My thanks to the committee who put my name in for consideration and for choosing me as Participant of The Year.
Is it my imagination, or does coffee really taste better from a VCB mug?
~Still Wandering…
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Censorship in Canada.
WARNING! This blog entry contains offensive language and political interference. Reader discretion is advised.
"He who controls the past, controls the future" ~George Orwell
In a recent decision handed down on Wednesday, January 12, 2011 the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council deemed the Dire Straits song “Money For Nothing” as discriminatory to gays because the song contains the word "faggot" in its lyrics.
Looking at the song’s lyrics in context however, I would think musicians should be equally if not more offended. The verse in question laments the “little faggot with the earring and the make-up” making more money than an unskilled appliance delivery man. The musician being scorned also has long hair. When the song was a current hit, I too had long hair and an earring, yet I was not offended at the lyrics of the song but found them funny. I have been called “faggot” many times because of the profession I have chosen as my career.
I have many homosexual friends, some of whom are bisexual and none of them that I know of are offended by those lyrics. The song also contains the words "chicks for free." Why then are women's groups not speaking out against this subjugating sentence?
And what about the word “gay?” Once upon a time it meant “Having or showing a merry, lively mood...” Hence, when Maria from West Side Story sings “I feel pretty, Oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay...” She is expressing happiness; but today that word garners snickers and derision. Would a heterosexual actress feel reluctant to take the role of Maria because of that word?
Hold that thought.
Also under attack is the Mark Twain classic “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” for its inclusion of the word “nigger.” While that word is not a part of my vocabulary, I have used it here to emphasize my points.
Again, like homosexuals, I also have friends who are of African ancestry.
I must however take exception to the removal of these words from their original texts. At the time Mark Twain was writing, “nigger” was a common, albeit cruel, word in the American lexicon. Today, it is featured profusely in rap music and the comedy acts of some of the African-American artists. In fact, I’ve watched some comedy routines such as the young Richard Pryor that offended me greatly because of the inclusion of that word, BUT... he wasn’t censored.
And that is the point I am getting to. When we start rewriting history to make it less offensive, we remove the horror that contains the lesson. It would be far better to keep the word as an example of inappropriate speech.
“Hear this word? Hear how awful it is? Understand how far we’ve come in our society by no longer using it in everyday speech?”
When we change the way books and songs were written, we cushion society from reality; a reality that if no longer prevalent, WAS at one time. This reality contains powerful messages and lessons that will be lost if history is rewritten.
I believe it is justifiable to make a word unacceptable on our streets and in current works of art. I would not use the words, “nigger” or “queer” in a book, story or song, but I refuse to accept the removal from works that are already written. That is getting dangerously close to George Orwell’s “1984” and Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451.”
Removing or changing words is to deny history. We have all seen what happens when an anti-Semite denies the Holocaust of WWII.
And rightly so.
If we allow censorship in these two incidents, it is only a matter of time until we censor Shakespeare, or worse, the Holy Texts of all religions from Hinduism and Buddhism to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
Removing or changing words is to infringe greatly on our freedoms. Being told what to say, what not to say, and when we can or cannot say it, is only one short step from communism. Is that where we as Canadians really want to go?
~Still Wandering...
"He who controls the past, controls the future" ~George Orwell
In a recent decision handed down on Wednesday, January 12, 2011 the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council deemed the Dire Straits song “Money For Nothing” as discriminatory to gays because the song contains the word "faggot" in its lyrics.
Looking at the song’s lyrics in context however, I would think musicians should be equally if not more offended. The verse in question laments the “little faggot with the earring and the make-up” making more money than an unskilled appliance delivery man. The musician being scorned also has long hair. When the song was a current hit, I too had long hair and an earring, yet I was not offended at the lyrics of the song but found them funny. I have been called “faggot” many times because of the profession I have chosen as my career.
I have many homosexual friends, some of whom are bisexual and none of them that I know of are offended by those lyrics. The song also contains the words "chicks for free." Why then are women's groups not speaking out against this subjugating sentence?
And what about the word “gay?” Once upon a time it meant “Having or showing a merry, lively mood...” Hence, when Maria from West Side Story sings “I feel pretty, Oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay...” She is expressing happiness; but today that word garners snickers and derision. Would a heterosexual actress feel reluctant to take the role of Maria because of that word?
Hold that thought.
Also under attack is the Mark Twain classic “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” for its inclusion of the word “nigger.” While that word is not a part of my vocabulary, I have used it here to emphasize my points.
Again, like homosexuals, I also have friends who are of African ancestry.
I must however take exception to the removal of these words from their original texts. At the time Mark Twain was writing, “nigger” was a common, albeit cruel, word in the American lexicon. Today, it is featured profusely in rap music and the comedy acts of some of the African-American artists. In fact, I’ve watched some comedy routines such as the young Richard Pryor that offended me greatly because of the inclusion of that word, BUT... he wasn’t censored.
And that is the point I am getting to. When we start rewriting history to make it less offensive, we remove the horror that contains the lesson. It would be far better to keep the word as an example of inappropriate speech.
“Hear this word? Hear how awful it is? Understand how far we’ve come in our society by no longer using it in everyday speech?”
When we change the way books and songs were written, we cushion society from reality; a reality that if no longer prevalent, WAS at one time. This reality contains powerful messages and lessons that will be lost if history is rewritten.
I believe it is justifiable to make a word unacceptable on our streets and in current works of art. I would not use the words, “nigger” or “queer” in a book, story or song, but I refuse to accept the removal from works that are already written. That is getting dangerously close to George Orwell’s “1984” and Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451.”
Removing or changing words is to deny history. We have all seen what happens when an anti-Semite denies the Holocaust of WWII.
And rightly so.
If we allow censorship in these two incidents, it is only a matter of time until we censor Shakespeare, or worse, the Holy Texts of all religions from Hinduism and Buddhism to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
Removing or changing words is to infringe greatly on our freedoms. Being told what to say, what not to say, and when we can or cannot say it, is only one short step from communism. Is that where we as Canadians really want to go?
~Still Wandering...
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Year and Resolutions
Today is the thirty first of December 2010, New Year’s Eve... Already the Winter Solstice is ten days behind us and each day is a nano-second or two longer. In Atlantic Canada, where I write this however, those nano-seconds mean little as the temperature plummets and in many places, snow accumulates.
New Years is a time for reflection, and introspection, as well as a time for looking forward and planning. For many, it is another chance to celebrate and share merriment with family and friends, while for others, it is merely another excuse to participate in drunkenness and asinine behaviour.
It is also a time for making resolutions; for intentional behaviour changes and self-improvement.
As a younger person, I made resolutions religiously. I made all the standard ones; quit smoking, lose weight, be a nicer person, stand up for myself when necessary, get a better job, save money... I also failed miserably. That failure I soon discovered was due to the nature of resolutions and how they are often ridiculously unrealistic.
How can anyone expect, or be expected, to take a daily living pattern and change, let go of, or otherwise modify it in a matter of minutes at midnight on December thirty-first? In fact, even the date seems wrong and incomprehensible. If such behaviour modification were possible and realistic, would it not be somewhat easier on the Solstice, the shortest day of the year? “Tomorrow, the day will be longer than today, so therefore I will... (insert resolution here)” Except, in most cases, the “shortest day of the year” does not stand alone but is one of three or four days that are all equal in length and also shorter than the rest of the days of the year.
This is not to say we should not resolve to modify our behaviour or improve our lives and the person we present to others. If anything, self-improvement should be a daily effort; sometimes even hourly or by the minute.
Sometimes I catch myself in behaviours I abhor in others, and in my mind I am reminded, “We criticize in others the things we despise in ourselves.” I always pause and reflect upon this adage and my behaviour, vowing to be more conscious of how I live my life. For me, most of the time, I cannot resolve to stop such behaviour, because mostly when it happens, I am unaware of it until either after it’s been done, or I am in the middle of it and there is little hope of turning back. It is simply a matter of trying to be conscious of the times when I am GOING to resort to this behaviour and stopping before I do. I suspect that as time goes on the conscious awareness becomes easier, or so I am told.
To make a New Year’s resolution to change this behaviour would be a waste of time, for I know that resolution would be broken on the first day. Instead, I have to resolve daily to be more mindful of my thoughts and actions; that I become more aware of the ways in which I betray myself, and check that behaviour as it happens in the hope that eventually I will stop myself before I begin to behave negatively.
At this time, regardless of the effectiveness of resolutions, I would like to take the opportunity to wish each and every one of you a very Happy New Year. May 2011 bring you Peace, Joy and Prosperity.
~Still Wandering...
New Years is a time for reflection, and introspection, as well as a time for looking forward and planning. For many, it is another chance to celebrate and share merriment with family and friends, while for others, it is merely another excuse to participate in drunkenness and asinine behaviour.
It is also a time for making resolutions; for intentional behaviour changes and self-improvement.
As a younger person, I made resolutions religiously. I made all the standard ones; quit smoking, lose weight, be a nicer person, stand up for myself when necessary, get a better job, save money... I also failed miserably. That failure I soon discovered was due to the nature of resolutions and how they are often ridiculously unrealistic.
How can anyone expect, or be expected, to take a daily living pattern and change, let go of, or otherwise modify it in a matter of minutes at midnight on December thirty-first? In fact, even the date seems wrong and incomprehensible. If such behaviour modification were possible and realistic, would it not be somewhat easier on the Solstice, the shortest day of the year? “Tomorrow, the day will be longer than today, so therefore I will... (insert resolution here)” Except, in most cases, the “shortest day of the year” does not stand alone but is one of three or four days that are all equal in length and also shorter than the rest of the days of the year.
This is not to say we should not resolve to modify our behaviour or improve our lives and the person we present to others. If anything, self-improvement should be a daily effort; sometimes even hourly or by the minute.
Sometimes I catch myself in behaviours I abhor in others, and in my mind I am reminded, “We criticize in others the things we despise in ourselves.” I always pause and reflect upon this adage and my behaviour, vowing to be more conscious of how I live my life. For me, most of the time, I cannot resolve to stop such behaviour, because mostly when it happens, I am unaware of it until either after it’s been done, or I am in the middle of it and there is little hope of turning back. It is simply a matter of trying to be conscious of the times when I am GOING to resort to this behaviour and stopping before I do. I suspect that as time goes on the conscious awareness becomes easier, or so I am told.
To make a New Year’s resolution to change this behaviour would be a waste of time, for I know that resolution would be broken on the first day. Instead, I have to resolve daily to be more mindful of my thoughts and actions; that I become more aware of the ways in which I betray myself, and check that behaviour as it happens in the hope that eventually I will stop myself before I begin to behave negatively.
At this time, regardless of the effectiveness of resolutions, I would like to take the opportunity to wish each and every one of you a very Happy New Year. May 2011 bring you Peace, Joy and Prosperity.
~Still Wandering...
Friday, December 24, 2010
Holiday Greetings!
As I sit here on this Christmas Eve 2010, the wind is blowing hard outside. The temperature is 3 degrees Celsius, or 37.4 degrees Fahrenheit. The wind chill is currently -3 Celsius or 26.6 degrees Fahrenheit. It has been raining for several days and there is flooding in the freshwater streams and storm surges on the ocean. In Europe, the snowfall has crippled the continent. It seems to be a time of turbulence not only in the weather but politically and economically as well. Indeed, zealots could say it is the end of times.
Yet, listening to Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, I am touched by the season in which we find ourselves. Despite the violent weather, despite the aggressive desperation of the last minute shoppers trying to find the “perfect” gift for someone. Despite the frustration of travellers waiting in airports and bus stations, delayed by the weather, there is an inner feeling of peace and contentment today.
I remember as a child, the anticipation of Christmas Eve; this was the big one, tomorrow, we’d all have our gifts opened and start visiting friends and relatives, comparing what we got and often planning adventures with our new acquisitions. Food was plentiful; turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, home-made stuffing, cranberry sauce, carrots, peas, squash... and for dessert there was Steamed pudding, pies of all flavours, cookies, squares, candies, and beverages galore.
While my father and most of my relatives were “working class” and far from affluent, I felt as if we were Royalty at Christmas. Our wealth was in the bond of our family, the love and joy shared at kitchen and dining room tables, in the stories told and re-told and the enquiries about other family members.
We didn’t have e-mail, and rarely used the phone beyond finding out if a relative in another town or “the city” was going to be home. We just walked or drove to someone’s home and visited. Given the number of my Mom’s siblings all living at that time within a few hours of our house, the visiting went on for days. Often we would leave a house after a visit only to meet up with those same relatives in somebody else’s home a few hours later! Conversations continued from house to house as if they hadn’t been paused, often bringing newcomers up to date.
I am now living far from my remaining relatives and friends. Many aunts and uncles as well as a few cousins have passed on and their children have grown up and moved away to find employment (as did I) and our Royal family, rich in each other’s presence, has become fragmented.
Yet, on this day of anticipation, which admittedly is not as great as it was when I was a child, we are all together again in each other’s hearts and memories. Our departed parents, aunts, uncles and cousins are also with us; their legacy alive within our hearts and our traditions.
No matter where you are during this Holiday season, whether apart from your loved ones or within their embrace, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May your memories and traditions keep you well fed with Joy. May you be warm and dry and may laughter be plentiful in your home.
~Still Wandering...
Yet, listening to Bach’s Christmas Oratorio, I am touched by the season in which we find ourselves. Despite the violent weather, despite the aggressive desperation of the last minute shoppers trying to find the “perfect” gift for someone. Despite the frustration of travellers waiting in airports and bus stations, delayed by the weather, there is an inner feeling of peace and contentment today.
I remember as a child, the anticipation of Christmas Eve; this was the big one, tomorrow, we’d all have our gifts opened and start visiting friends and relatives, comparing what we got and often planning adventures with our new acquisitions. Food was plentiful; turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, home-made stuffing, cranberry sauce, carrots, peas, squash... and for dessert there was Steamed pudding, pies of all flavours, cookies, squares, candies, and beverages galore.
While my father and most of my relatives were “working class” and far from affluent, I felt as if we were Royalty at Christmas. Our wealth was in the bond of our family, the love and joy shared at kitchen and dining room tables, in the stories told and re-told and the enquiries about other family members.
We didn’t have e-mail, and rarely used the phone beyond finding out if a relative in another town or “the city” was going to be home. We just walked or drove to someone’s home and visited. Given the number of my Mom’s siblings all living at that time within a few hours of our house, the visiting went on for days. Often we would leave a house after a visit only to meet up with those same relatives in somebody else’s home a few hours later! Conversations continued from house to house as if they hadn’t been paused, often bringing newcomers up to date.
I am now living far from my remaining relatives and friends. Many aunts and uncles as well as a few cousins have passed on and their children have grown up and moved away to find employment (as did I) and our Royal family, rich in each other’s presence, has become fragmented.
Yet, on this day of anticipation, which admittedly is not as great as it was when I was a child, we are all together again in each other’s hearts and memories. Our departed parents, aunts, uncles and cousins are also with us; their legacy alive within our hearts and our traditions.
No matter where you are during this Holiday season, whether apart from your loved ones or within their embrace, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. May your memories and traditions keep you well fed with Joy. May you be warm and dry and may laughter be plentiful in your home.
~Still Wandering...
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