Life Imitates Art
...Sisyphus Pauses, Does Some Yoga Breathing & Smiles


When you drive through the Canadian Rockies, you often come across signs indicating points of interest because of a particular postcardesque view or site of historical note. Such is the portion of life’s proverbial road that I am presently traversing. Call it Art equals karma and the metamorphosis of worm to butterfly. It all started this weekend when my wife suggested we check out the Red Strap Art Market downtown. There was a painting there that she had fallen in love with (and misjudged in terms of cost), that she wanted to show me. It was an original piece, roughly 3 ft. x 4 ft., painted by a guy in town, Remmy Hart, whose real job is as a dental hygienist. Being sympathetic to this man’s plight, as I often lament being a punk rocker trapped inside a Correctional Officer’s bridle of authoritarianism, and also loving the piece (it looks like something painted by a Guatemalan living in Norway with Polynesian flowers amidst branches whereon there are five parakeet-like birds perched...anyway, gaze upward and you can see it for yourself), I agreed to the surrender of $600 in the name of Art. ‘Twas then that the bohemian spirits of subliminal anarchists heard our pleas.

Miracle #1: The following morning we received a telephone call from a daycare attached to a local school of visual and performing Arts that we have been hankering to get our toddler in. The waiting list is horrendously long, and, in all honesty, we figured that our chances of having our daughter accepted to be slim to none. Hopping up on the soap box, donning my teacher’s hat, I can not begin to stress the need for the Arts in the overall cannon of learning as it facilitates an abstract form of reasoning that allows us to think outside of the box and, in general, simply makes people confused and thus interesting as it also causes them to think about why they are confused. Seriously, I’ve taken a lot of Philosophy and Psychology in university and couldn’t begin to demonstrate the magnitude of my inner synaptic flaring! So, getting back on topic, this will hopefully prove rewarding for our wee one as she loves to paint, play with play-doh, sing, pluck at the piano and strum my guitar.

Miracle #2: I returned home from meeting with the staff at the school mentioned in Miracle #1, checked my messages wherein there was one from a local school asking me if I was interested in teaching a behaviour modified class. I had a similar offer back in January (see my posts from that time of turbulent cognitive cufuffling), but turned it down, allowing my fears for job security cloud my judgement over whether or not I still had the desire to teach. Of course that ship had set sail by the time I was done giving my head a shake, so I put the word out that I was ready to pilot a similar proverbial ship should one be sailing nearby. Thus, perhaps more like a fisherman, I have sat, waiting.

Before I continue, let me make the point that this is only a demi-miracle with the possibility of being delusional as I was only given an interview and will not be aware as to whether or not I have secured the position for a few days. That being said, hope springs eternal, gabba gabba hey and I feel the interview went well. Fingers crossed… should I search eBay for more Art??? (and if you decide to look on eBay, type in 'Tascha' and have a look at some of her original paintings - lots of warm cats and Frida Kahlo... bought my missus one of her paintings of three cats and two chairs - hope they don't quarrel with the parakeets!)

There’s not really another miracle, but there are some exciting and positive things happening in my life. I went to my first Boxing class last evening and felt really good about it, though I’m not 100% on whether I will elect to make this my next devotion or if I will check out rock climbing which has always been one of those things that has appealed to me. Certainly a move out of the prison might sway me in my decision making. I enjoy combat Arts, but think nothing beats climbing both literal and proverbial mountains. There’s a local rock climbing gym (http://www.verticallyinclined.com/) which has reasonable enough rates. I’ve been told that my 220 lb. frame might be a bit robust for climbing, so perhaps I’ll do the Boxing to drop weight and then make the foray into the land of crags and clefts.

Friends, of course, are also a big part of what makes life wonderful. Adding to my social mix is my friend, Paully, who is flying here tomorrow for a week. We’ve known each other since we were 5 years old, he was the best man at my wedding, etc., so it’s going to be great to hook up for a while, take in the mountains in Jasper or visit the Badlands in Southern Alberta. So, throw in a healthy family, a few good books, sessions playing the guitar, a week of holidays from work and a nice single malt and you’ve got my metaphorical “point of interest”.

Carpe diem!

Summer Slurpings and Song


Sipping my third cup of Starbucks Sumatra blend (not getting paid to say that – it’s really that good!) of the day, invigorated by the summer solstice yesterday (and in spite of my pagan leanings I wasn’t arrested for public nudity) and wondering how many side comments I can place in one continuous sentence (which is apparently quite a few), my attention has turned to my blog which has been somewhat neglected as of late (and yes, the poor Oilers lost the Stanley Cup in game seven). I have also taken the next two weeks off for my summer holidays, so, with all of this coffee, I am feeling a cross between giddiness and hyper. Nothing much planned for these holidays, save a trip white water rafting, a visit from my good friend Paully and deep contemplations on why anyone would name their child ‘Cecil’.

The rain and grey skies dominated my fair city the past few weeks and it was really interesting to observe how the weather detrimentally affected people’s moods (myself included). Summer is so short and such a polar opposite of Winter in these parts as we see temperatures ranging from +40C in July to -40C in January. Moods aside, I can’t fathom how the Aboriginals and, later, Europeans ever coped in a world without furnaces and gortex! It’s funny to see how lost folks, in our present day, become when the power gets knocked out for a few hours. There is no stronger testament to how we have de-evolved as a species as it pertains to survival.

We are so out of touch with our natural “selves”, though, more often than not, we can see our predatory elements far too often. Then again, as we have evolved, perhaps it is unfair to say that we are no longer “natural” as we have become what we are based on who we are. Perhaps it would be a fairer statement that we are still our ‘natural selves’ but a very dependant and weak species. I suppose that destruction of our “normal” urban habitat and economic creations would be as severe to us as the destruction of grizzly bear habitat or putting chemicals in a lake, affecting fish stocks. As Darwin might argue we are descended from the fish, we are very much like fish in a tank, polluting our environment and desperately in need of a water change!

On the Green front, my wife and I have decided to donate $10/month to both the Stephen Lewis and David Suzuki Foundations. It’s not much, but, aside from trying to live an environmentally friendly lifestyle, it is something. Reading reviews of Al Gore’s movie plus my usual diet of left leaning Green writings is both depressing yet hopeful; depressing on where we are and where we are headed, hopeful in that it’s not too late to make a difference. It’s just a shame that people are too consumed by their lives to bother with the environment – that we need rock stars and actors to make giving a damn for ten seconds trendy as in the Live 8.

Anywho, that’s my 30 seconds on the soap box.

Think I’ll go now and hammer out a few tunes on the guitar. My writing has really suffered as of late. Here’s signing off with the lyrics to the last tune I wrote that basically says “don’t worry, be happy”:

Big Time Seller

Devil’s in the house of the rising sun
My friend went crazy then he bought a gun
now he counts to his final day
when he’ll blow his ex and kid away
it’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard
she messed him bad, left him disturbed
after it happens he’ll make the news
then along comes another to fill his shoes

CHORUS:
Tragedy is a big time seller
sold by those that are just too yeller
to show anyone there’s beauty in this world
empires built on pain and sufferin’
but it’s all take, they ain’t given nothin’
Blind you from the beauty in this world

In the middle of genocide and useless slaughter
My wife bore me a beautiful daughter
didn’t know where Rwanda was
she sits and giggles just because
life to her is what she sees
almost feel bad that she’ll learn to read
I cherish her innocence every day
feel sad she won’t always think this way

Tragedy is a big time seller
sold by those that are just too yeller
to show anyone there’s beauty in this world
empires built on pain and sufferin’
but it’s all take, they ain’t given nothin’
Blind you from the beauty in this world

I like Seamus Heaney, my wife’s passion for flowers
that patch of green by the office towers
people who are in a festive mood
walkin’ round my house in the nude
life is full of little pleasures
no need to search for buried treasure
security’s holdin’ my daughter’s hand
and walkin’ past the new-seller’s stand

Tragedy is a big time seller
sold by those that are just too yeller
to show anyone there’s beauty in this world
empires built on pain and sufferin’
but it’s all take, they ain’t given nothin’
Blind you from the beauty in this world

If all you read is the Star or Sun
Then I understand why you’d buy a gun
with all those crazies in this world
it’s enough to make your toenails curl
somethin’ other can be had
in contrast to this world gone mad
smell a flower or make a date
or if it’s cold old winter then masturbate

Sex and skin is a big time seller
sold by those that are just too yeller
to show anyone there’s beauty in this world
empires built on exploitation
and measuremental exaggeration
Blind you from the beauty in this world

In the spirit of Sisyphus...

Father's Day....

This is what it's really about!

A Sporting Life


I live a rigorously active life and have loved sports from my first memories of attending Nova Scotia Voyageurs hockey games and watching the Boston Red Sox with my Uncle on the weekends when I was four years old. Certainly men take a sizable amount of ribbing from the fairer sex when it comes to our sporting addictions, though it seems the gender barrier is well traversed when it comes to men and women playing and watching games.

I remember always having this notion that a day would come where something in one’s head would click and we would think as adults. Certainly watching people in my parents generation (those in their mid to late 60’s) presented a life of work with little or no play. My Uncle would, on occasion, throw the baseball around with me or take shots on me as I played goal in ball hockey, but he was more apt to have me mow the lawn or rake the leaves. Play definitely appeared as a luxury pursued once your chores were complete.

Nearer to 40 than 30, I still play sports and love watching them. Though it’s difficult to get a group of people together with the commitments of career and family, many who I know still play slo-pitch, shinny hockey, recreational soccer, etc. Certainly, having had a knee and shoulder scoped already and being in need of having both knees done again, we of the “active age” will probably wind up costing the medical system just as much as those who have elected to smoke and become couch potatoes. So why do we do it?

From a psychological perspective, I feel that it is somewhat of a holding on to simpler times. Sports are also definitive battles with a full scope of strong emotions. Right now, the Edmonton Oilers have forced a 6th game in the Stanley Cup Finals, pulling a city of one million (and nation) along with them on a journey we never imagined possible. It’s so black and white, unlike the other real-life battles we may be forced to face.

There is also the social acceptance side of sports – to be together in the subsequent cheering or booing of a team. I was recently in Saskatoon, watching game 4 of the Stanley Cup in a bar when a commercial came on featuring the CFL Saskatchewan Roughriders QB and I started hooting “Go ESKS Go!” in support of the Edmonton Eskimos – arch rival to the Roughies (and we are also the 2005 Grey Cup CHAMPIONS!). We, as humans, truly are tribal creatures.

Obviously (and in spite all the arthroscopic surgeries we must undergo) there is that competitiveness too that musty be satiated, whether it be versus an opponent, self or age. There is nothing like the sensation of pushing one’s self to empty and then wringing one more ounce out of nothingness.

Here’s to eternal youth and GO OILERS GO!

666 and the Convenience of Heaven

It’s funny those folks making comments about today being 06/06/06 in regards to the number of the (B)beast. We needn’t get into rants about the Caesarian calendar, the fact that it’s 06/06/07 in places on the other side of the world, and DaVincian mysteries where the world of non-fiction becomes fictionalised to comment on a great work of fictional non-fiction culminating salvation with fertile rabbits and generous pipe smoking obese sleigh men.

Last evening did prove interesting for me along theological lines. My nearly four year old daughter was being awkward about talking on the telephone with her Grandmother. I told her that she should talk with her because “Grandma was going into the hospital tomorrow and you need to tell her to be brave”. After succeeding in my Machiavellian parenting tactics, my daughter began asking questions about “why Grandma is going to the hospital”. I had to explain that Grandma had cancer and had to have her breasts removed and was starting chemotherapy as my daughter continued her inquisition on the subject. Inevitably death came into the equation, spreading to questions of my wife and my mortality as well as my daughter’s.

I was not prepared for such a discussion (which took place during the first period of the Oiler’s first game of the Stanley Cup finals!). It would’ve been so simple to answer queries on death with “Heaven” and “angels”. But then I asked myself, do I really want to tell my daughter these things? I tell her about Santa and the Easter Bunny without the sense that I’m going to cause considerable conflict as she grow older. But the balance of mortality and how awful that might seem to a toddler versus the temporary belief in angels and Heaven is a tedious one. In the end, I resolved to give my daughter the straight goods, working in subtle things like the importance of good nutrition, exercise and loving people, and feel good in doing so.

In all honesty, there’s simply no preparation in the curveballs parenting can throw your way!