The Hike

Once in awhile, I'm given a moment that you think only exists in the minds of movie screenwriters.

My nine year old son is a born adventurer. He enters fantasylands of action adventure in the valleys and tracks of our neighbourhood. He likes to make a path, not find one.

So we were camping last weekend by a lake, and behind the campside was a mountain (a hill). My son asked if I would join him on a hike up the mountain. I agreed.

He got his little backpack ready (flashlight, knife, some food and water) and we ventured up.

Now the hill seemed quite daunting as we started up. The vegetation was scratchy, the soil loose, and there was some talk of rattlesnakes. I was somewhat skeptical, but once I saw the copious sharp cacti and large rocks covering the ground, I became a bit more vigilant. I was particularly concerned about poison ivy and such, as I was in shorts......

I told my son to stomp up and down as he hiked, and watch where he was stepping, lest he stick his foot into a cactus or worse.  I guided him to the ridges, where the vegetation was less dense than the valleys. We observed some strange insects, and I pointed out lichens growing on the rocks. I told him to beware of purple coloured berries, and we looked out for animal droppings.

The gradient steepened and we had been hiking for a good 30 minutes and he was tiring. I said "Only a little bit further over the first hump, and we'll see how much more we need to go to the top." He said OK. I took his backpack from him, and we kept going.

Sure enough, we could now see the summit, it seemed reachable, within our grasp.

As we got to the top, we turned around to see the path and distance we had taken, and were quite happy with ourselves.  I started singing the Rocky theme and together we punched our fists in the air. We called out below, waving our arms. No one heard. But we smiled together.

We peered over the edge of the summit, to the steep valleys below. I held onto him, steadied his footing.

"It's a long way down, Dad." he said quite seriously. I nodded.

As we descended, my son led the way, chose the path, warned me of upcoming cacti and other dangers and half-way down, we had a water break. I told him going down a hill is faster, but that an accident going down was harder to control, and to lower his centre of gravity.

We sat on a large rock, shared a drink of water, and my son turned to me:

"Dad. You know how you showed me what to watch out for, be careful of, which path to take?"

I nodded.

"And you kept me going, and encouraged me to get to the top, and to keep going?"

I started getting a sense, but what came out of his mouth, took me aback.

"And you told me what's different about going up and going down?

He paused.

"Is that what you do Dad? Encourage me. Teach me. Help me? To know how to get somewhere? Point out what to watch out for? Is that what you do Dad?"

The breeze from the lake was blowing his hair gently, and I looked at his wonderful, curious, loving eyes.

And with a hint of a tear in my eye, I hugged him.

"Yes, son. That's what a Dad does.  And that's what I'll do for the rest of my life."

He leaned into me for a moment, broke away and stood up.

"C'mon Dad. This way." he said with a smile.

Life is better than the movies.

Let's keep in touch

Reciprocity. Frequency. Proximity. And somewhat redundantly Geography.

Relationships depend on these factors.

Reciprocity
It has to be mutual. You have to like each other. Check.

Frequency
You have to have some frequency of interaction. Once a month (average time period between my phone calls to my parents), three times a day (average frequency of phone calls my wife makes to her mother, sister, brother). Check

Proximity
Distance, matters. If you live down the street. You are my neighbour. I see you. Drive by. Walk by. In my house. In your house. Check

Geography
Well if an ocean separates us, it's either Titanic style cross the ocean, or its on a plane. If you live in N. America, you have the option of mega road-trips. Even Fed-Ex takes a bit longer if you live continents apart.

Relationships take place in the time-space continuum. As such, physical factors, and time factors are obvious.

So when is the last time you got handwritten snail mail. Chances are a parent licked a stamp.

We've got facebook, twitter, email, text, ping, skype, global satellite phones.

Yes, it's easier. But are we doing it? Keeping in touch. Pretending our friend in the South Pole, is down the street. With your webcam you show them the snowy Rocky mountains, with theirs they show you Bondi beach.

Snippets are easier. Sound bytes. Hello, how are you's.  Face to face is almost there. But it's virtual. Pixels. Analog phones seemed closer. Because, chances are, when you used them , they were closer.

In the mind's eye, cyberreality didn't erase the distance.

And staying in touch has never been easier, but somehow, that stops us getting the D&Ms of face to face. Superficial. Shallow.

So you've creeped around Facebook and figured out the spousal and offspring of your long forgotten elementary school acquaintances. You (524) compete with your wife (942 and counting) on FB friends. Kidding.....actually no...really....but given up.

Keeping in touch could be a full time gig. But the reality is. You call who you want to. You get on a plane, and travel and sit down and break bread with the people you really want to compensate for the geography, proximity, frequency bit of the equation.

Quality time, not quantity time.

Sitting on a beach at Club Med, when your kids are in the KidzClub for 12 hours, does not constitute a family vacation. You are having a vacation from each other.

So hey, let's keep in touch. See you on Skype.

NOW vs. ALWAYS

I took an online scriptwriting course a long while ago. We'd get on a chat forum and do speedwriting and critiquing each other's work. It was great; people from all over the world.  One of the guys called me "binary Phil" because my characters were overly dramatic.  Indeed there is an element of "0" or "1"-ness in my personality, and black and whiteness-ness. So it's no surprise that much of my blog posts seem that way too. It's just me, not much I can do about it.

Anyhoo.

I was driving somewhere recently, hurriedly, the focus of my NOW moment filled with elements of time, geography and information. And thoughts; a lot of thoughts. Then a quiet internal voice switched on and said "Focus on things that are ALWAYS." Weird.

Then the lightbulb.

I started to verbalize:

I will ALWAYS love my wife.
I will ALWAYS love my children.
I will ALWAYS cherish my parents.
I will ALWAYS love God.

I've written about the Eternal Now before, and this is really a riff on the same thing, but something about ALWAYS struck me. And most interestingly, the things I verbalised, had nothing to do with places, or time, or thoughts.  Feelings and beings.  Solid truths and convictions that I will not waver from.

Makes the NOW moments (finish this project, get to the meeting on time, pay bills, pick up kids) really trivial by comparison. I know life demands that we take care of the practicalities, and I'm not espousing the abandonment of taking care of the day to days of life.

I'm more interested in the FOCUS of life. The NOW moments or the ALWAYS moments.

Now here's another thought. What about focusing on the ALWAYS moments NOW.

I will always love my wife NOW.
I will always love my children NOW.

In Covey's 7 Habits, there is the time management quadrants: Urgent, Not urgent, Important, Not important.

So I guess let's make urgent, prioritize, the things that are important, and not be led by things that are indeed urgent, but perhaps not as important....by a long shot.

The Few vs. The Many

I have an amazing wife.  She's a brave soul. She puts herself out there, sometimes in pretty public situations, and does what she believes in her heart to do.  She loves to "walk across the room" to where people are at, not where she is at.

My wife is confident, but she's not made of steel. She is soft-hearted woman with a big soul. So sometimes people don't "get her".  Because she chooses the few, and not the many.  Life is not a popularity contest, and some people will take you or leave you. That's the reality of people. And sometimes that hurts.

She recently chose to honour the few, whose journeys have been a life beyond adversity, some self-created, some not. She does not judge them. She honours them.  For some, what my wife has done is to deliver some of the most significant moments of the lives of a few. Sure, she sometimes does that in front of the many, and causes some ire.

Makes me reflect on whose opinions we care about the most. Because we care. We do. Because we are human. We care because it is in the context of others that we live. Even those who isolate themselves, do so in context to that.

We care about the opinions of our parents early on, then our friends, and soon our peers sometimes enemies.  Once in school it may be in the context of that little ecosystem where we want to belong, to be significant. Then our workplaces.......as we create our own ecosystems, we may even, in the case of a politician, care about the general populace, the many.

As we get older though, in private, we often revert back to the opinions of those who love us, and those we love. Most likely, the few. Those in faith life, they may hold central, the opinions of a God. The One.

There are naysayers everywhere, armchair critics, consumers and reactionaries of life. Yes, I am also often one. I judge, but don't like to be judged.

So I leave you with this question:

Do you care about the opinions of "the many", most of whom you do not know, and cares not about you, or the opinions of "the few" who have a deep interest in your life and well-being?

Listen

I'm not good at it. Ask my wife. My children.

I try. I really do. But I love the sound of my own voice, and the superiority of my thoughts.

Lately.....I am starting. To listen.

Not to the chirping of the birds per se, the sound of the wind, or the moving melody of a favourite song; but the voice; from within.

Now before you recommend a psychotherapist, these aren't the "voices".

It's the inner dialogue. It's truth through questions.

It's not so much hearing, but seeing.

It's a pause. An exhale. It's the clarity. Selah.

So settle the cacophony of the day.

And listen.

Someone wants to talk to you.

And someone wants to listen.

Buy Cheap/Buy Twice: False Economy

Sometimes ignorance can be bliss.

In the last 12 months (as I get older), I'm looking to reset, and reboot areas of my life, and the life of my family. Stagnant, thoughtless, purposeless repetition....avoid, avoid, avoid!

Education has been at the centre of this process. And the internet has been a boon.

Between thestoryofstuff and Food inc. and many other books and documentaries,  I'm severely challenged by the knowledge of what the global consumer economy is doing to humanity and the planet.  Driven by price, and price alone......the land of $20 DVD players, $1000 cars, cheap sushi, Big Macs etc......

So let's consume.....differently.

The old adage of "buy cheap, buy twice" has never been truer. Not only has this definition of false economy endured, its essence is now amplified.  If you buy cheap, not only will you buy twice, three times etc., but ultimately you will pay in other ways...pollution, illness. These back-end costs are infinitely worse and are past your own lifespan, but onto the lives of your children and grandchildren, their health, well-being......

Buy BETTER, Buy LESS
Better quality the first time......less trips to the returns department, less testing of the warranty policy, less time wasted, better quality consumer goods....less line-up time, car time, internet price checking time, emotional expenditure.....

Buy ORGANIC, Buy LESS
Have you looked at how much organic chicken/beef is? It's more per lb/kg.  So simply.....EAT LESS! COOK SLOWER....

I have bought Wagyu beef a couple of times. Crazy stuff.....so expensive, and so rich, that you can't eat a lot of it.....so you buy cheaper cuts, cook it slowly (you can't barbecue it anyway, it will all melt away), and eat less of it.....

Now, less meat? Hmmmm. It's happening naturally, but I'm not going to be vegetarian...unless it's medically prescribed....call it weakness or short sightedness...but I like red meat.

Having said that a few trips to Real Food Daily in Santa Monica, opened my mind and palate up to the reality of really tasty and filling vegetarian meals......so tofu steaks....sure! Now if I can only figure how to use less salt when I eat vegetarian....

And true to form.....each of us, everyday, doing something a little bit different, will lead to....incremental exponentialism of course!

Let the snowballing begin.

Science of the Mind vs. Art of the Heart

Tangible logic is overrated.....obsessing about the detail of observable reality.

So here I am, re-processing something I've heard that resonated with me: Art of the Heart. So Chris Wiersma, apologies as I continue to hijack the words of others.

We are humans......and not information processors.....we are not machines....but we spend a great deal of time, money and resources to investigate how machine-like we are, not how human we are.

In the Matrix, when Neo meets the Architect, the Architect, a construct of digital code, views with disdain the organic, illogical, contradictory and ultimately strangeness of humanity.

Art of the Heart.....do we really have to make that much sense?

Should we not invest more time into our own humanity?

INVICTUS

Though it will be highly unlikely that I am going to face circumstances as severe and important as Nelson Mandela, I was profoundly affected by the film Invictus, and in particular the scene, where Francois Peinaar, the Springboks captain visits Mandela's cell, and imagines Mandela in prison; breaking up rocks, sleeping on a blanket; powerful stuff.

Here is William Ernest Henley's short poem published in 1888, 102 years before Mandela's release in 1990.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.