Quote #9

hope-national geographic

By showing up with hope to help others, I’m guaranteed that hope is present. Then my own hope increases. By creating hope for others, I end up awash in the stuff. – Anne Lamott

ILLUSTRATION BY ELEANOR DAVIS

Read her beautiful article in National Geographic’s October 2018 issue. 

An introvert’s reminder

Arrogance is bad. Arrogance grounded in ignorance is even worse.

Independence may be a defense from the truth, a form of self-righteousness and silent arrogance.

Don’t seal yourself from the world, and claim superiority.

We may be our own worst (or forgiving) judges, yet removed from the tempering wisdom found only in human contact, our judgments lack facts.

A mind turned inward fails to recognize its reflection in the arena of social interaction.

The eye can’t see itself.

No one is an island.

The switch

The mind has made a switch,

From days inward searching spent,

To heed the call of assumed responsibilities,

And rejoin the careening wheels of society.

The mind has made a switch,

And slides sadly into this communal pit.

Versatile Blogger Award Nomination

I thank Er. Mukhtar Zahid for the kind nomination. I am just starting out, relatively speaking, and it is nice to feel the love! Thanks!

Rules:

Thank the person who nominated you

Include a link to their blog in your post

Share 7 facts about yourself

Nominate 15 bloggers of your choosing

7 Facts

Canadian

Thirty-five

Father of two

Live in Germany

Studied biology, philosophy, geography

Suffer from OCD

My own worst enemy

Nominations

I am a blogging novice. I have nominated the following blogs not only for their creative wisdom, but also for their practical advice, aspects from which I have greatly benefitted. Thanks and keep up the good work. People ARE listening.

Nameera Ever After

Damon Ashworth Psychology

Dread Poets Sobriety

Poems for Warriors

I tried to tell you

Kosmogonic

Memoir of a Writer

The World Through my Eyes

Christian Mihai

Pointless Overthinking

A Blooming Scribe

Exploring the Epiphany

In a Messy World

Artist Versifier

just a music lover….

I hope you all have pingback activated!

 

Lyrics #5 – Dear Coach’s Corner – Propagandhi

Check song and lyrics out here.

Dear Ron MacLean. Dear Coach’s Corner. I’m writing in order for someone to explain to my niece the distinction between these mandatory pre-game group rites of submission and the rallies at Nuremburg. Specifically the function the ritual serves in conjunction with what everybody knows is in the end a kid’s game. I’m just appealing to your sense of fair play when I say she’s puzzled by the incessant pressure for her to not defy the collective will, and yellow ribboned lapels, as the soldiers inexplicably rappel down from the arena rafters (which, if not so insane, would be grounds for screaming laughter). Dear Ron MacLean, I wouldn’t bother with these questions if I didn’t sense some spiritual connection. We may not be the same but it’s not like we’re from different planets: we both love this game so much we can hardly fucking stand it. Alberta-born and prairie-raised. Seems like there ain’t a sheet of ice north of Fargo I ain’t played. From Penhold to the Gatineau, every fond memory of childhood that I know is somehow connected to the culture of this game. I can’t just let it go. But I guess it comes down to what kind of world you want to live in, and if diversity is disagreement, and disagreement is treason, well don’t be surprised if we find ourselves reaping a strange and bitter fruit that sad old man beside you keeps feeding to young minds as virtue. It takes a village to raise a child but just a flag to raze the children until they’re nothing more than ballast for fulfilling a madman’s dream of a paradise where complexity is reduced to black and white. How do I protect her from this cult of death?

Quote #6

It takes a village to raise a child, a flag to raze the children. – Chris Hannah

Bus station ecology

Outside a café by the central bus station.

Wasps. A gentle breeze stalling their forward propulsion. They hover, drawn to the foamed milk and cocoa powder topping my cappuccino.

Enlightening places: central transportation hubs. A congregation of humanity’s diversity: addicts; homeless; drunkards clasping and gulping bottles of warm beer; schoolkids travelling home from school; workers in dirty work pants and black heavy-soled boots; housewives pushing carriages of napping babies; immigrants from the Middle East, North Africa, Eastern Europe; bikers and walkers and taxi-cab drivers; old retirees in white Velcro sneakers and dated threadbare dress pants and sport jackets; the low, the lower middle, the middle classes; the working classes; students; artists; the down-trodden; the hopeful; the resigned. All jostling, vibrating, moving lives and lifetimes, stories, criss-crossing, weaving paths back and forth and back again on the concrete canvas.

And me. Another node of carbon-based molecules connected by infinite invisible threads to the world around. Inhaling. Exhaling. Respiring the same gas as the drug-addict missing her two front teeth; as the Arab hairdresser speaking a strange tongue to a friend on the threshold of his shop. Shooing wasps from my drink. Smiling inwardly at the too-fat pigeon waddling underfoot for crumbs.

A crippled man passes. The click-clack of a cane. And a woman on an old cellular phone.

Here’s one with cigarette in hand, shawl wrapped warmly, multi-coloured polyester handbag fit snugly into elbow’s crook, texting all the while, as she pauses briefly at my table, puts her bag – still looped over her texting arm – down on the seat, cigarette pressed between lips, and rummages through.

Do they know? Do they know I see them? I really observe them? I study them? I think of them? I remember them? For now. For today. And perhaps longer still. Do they know, they have become a part of me?

Now two ancient nodes have joined my table. Prehistoric lovers. His teeth perfectly pearly white. She wearing rouge on her once flawlessly beautiful, now wrinkled, and still beautiful cheeks. Wedding rings. Umbrellas. He making jokes. She barely smiling, barely giving an inch, but still giving that inch: yes, she’s heard them all before. Two ancient prehistoric lovers.

The pigeon waddles past. The breeze becoming a wind forces the hovering wasps to the eaves. Overhead a flock of city birds circles. Rested, the two stand, hand in hand, and depart.

 

How to end a conversation before it begins

‘How are you?’ ‘How are you?’ she said.

In a floating transitional state, waiting for the cosmos to give me the sign. Where are my legs? And gravity?

In a hyper-(ir)rational state. Am I sure of my arithmetic? Who says the world is logical? Logic to prove logic seems, well, ill-logical.

I am tense. But that is not my tension. My muscles vibrate with anxious intent. But they are not controlled by me. My hair is thick (yet thinning on top). But that hair crowns another man’s scalp.


Through the windows of the eyes, in the place where a soul might be, staring back in the mirror, something unborn, non-existent, flickers. Possessing a living host, it digs a tiny hollow, one fingernail scraping at a time. Piece by agonizing piece it widens its enclosure, allowing fresh air and light to fill the concave spaces around it.

As the cocoon about shudders and frets and lurches this way and that, the weightless non-entity bounces and spins freely in padded enclosures, thick organic walls of muscle and bone, pliable, absorbing the shocks of a chaotic existence.


‘How are you?’ ‘How are you?’ she said.

‘Oh, me, well I’m fine,’ would have been the reply, the sound carried reflexively up the throat, rolling over the tongue, out the lying mouth.

A colossal misunderstanding, and we both must be excused. In this universe the laws of arithmetic don’t always hold; but how could she have known? And I am tired of lies.

‘Oh, me, well I don’t exist. But thanks for asking.’

The fortress nursery

I am a play-acting leader wandering aimlessly,

Trudging up and down each ridge and valley,

Marching headstrong on twisted paths unknowing;

Eager to say ‘Here is the way, follow me.’

 

I set off young, ill-equipped, and eagerly,

To a distant snow-capped peak I aimed to journey,

Heavy burdensome pack filled to overflowing;

Doubt, inexperience, arrogant insecurity.

 

In each palm five tiny digits clasped firmly,

My delightful, loving, innocent responsibility,

Yet cradled deep within another growing;

Swaddled in armoured layers deceptively.

 

I now know I am the king of a fortress nursery,

Revealed to me by their lips curled mockingly,

To veiled contempt, through muffled laughter owing;

They all scorn the child I refused to see.

 

Now too great the burden’s intensity,

A suffocating pack and no hands free,

Foundation’s cracked, there is no more going;

Deep within a child cries desperately.

 

In this storm of clear and urgent necessity,

Heed those mocking faces – growth requires honesty –

King’s garments stripped as the tempest continues blowing;

I, reborn and naked before you, stand awkwardly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine Blogger Award Second Nomination

I would like to thank DM at Pointless Overthinking for the nomination, which has further motivated and inspired me to develop this project.

The Rules
1. Thank the blogger who nominated you in your blog post and a link back to the blog.
2. Answering 11 questions that the Blogger asked you.
3. Nominate 11 new bloggers to receive the awards and write them 11 questions.
4. List the rules and display the Sunshine blogger award logo in your post on your blog.

Questions posed to me:

1 – What phrase would you use to describe your future?

Optimistically uncertain.

2 – Which movie had the biggest impact on you?

The Exorcist…or maybe Braveheart…

3 – From all the things you do on a daily basis, which ones do you love the most and why?

Things involving my family and friends. It is with them I am my best person.

4 – What are you addicted of?

Ruminating. Oh, and coffee.

5 – What would you change about yourself?

Ruminate less.

6 – What do you do to relax?

Exercise, socialize, travel, write…sleep.

7 – If you have unlimited money, what would you buy and why?

…’a fur coat, but not a real fur coat, that’s cruel’…(look it up)

8 – If you could make a movie about anything, what would that movie be about and why?

I would write, direct, and (maybe) star in a perfectly accurate Kafkaesque portrayal of living with obsessive compulsive disorder.

9 – What’s your biggest fear?

Living contrary to my essence.

10 – What’s your biggest wish?

Living in tune with my essence.

11 – What word would you use to describe yourself?

Challenging.

My Nominations:

1 – Nameera Ever After

2 – The World Through My Eyes 

3 – Memoir Of A Writer

4 – Alex Markovich Illustrations & Photos

5 – Eclipsed Words

6 – Wonder Diary

7 – angelalimaq

8 – The Darkest Tunnel

9 – Navigate My Recovery

 

My Questions:

1 – Do you believe in free will?

2 – Which philosophical worldview best describes you?

3 – Cats or dogs? And WHY?

4 – Favourite book(s)?

5 – Do you suffer from an anxiety disorder? How do you cope?

6 – Is there an ultimate meaning to life, the cosmos?

7 – How best to positively influence the world?

8 – Is there such a thing as good and evil?

9 – What major change(s) would you like to see in the world?

10 – Are you living in harmony with your world?

11 – Glass half empty or half full? And WHY?