Opening

"I can't do much. But I won't do nothing."
[Daniel Sloss, "X"]

I've stalled writing this for a long, long time.  But my hesitation was for the wrong reasons, so at last, here we are.

Telling right from wrong is easy; telling right from right is harder to navigate.  Recently, in discussing blood donations with someone online, the idea came up of wanting to take a stance against the poorly-worded homophobic questions they ask weighed against one's desire to do good by giving blood.  But thinking on it led me to realize that my challenge with the below hasn't been weighing right against right.  Not really.  That was an excuse I gave myself.

I've not written as much or said as much in recent years because I understand that the time of the cis-gender white male has passed.  Women's voices need to be heard and echoed as much as possible.  The microphone is not mine, or at least it shouldn't be.  I'm doing my best to learn to listen more and speak less.  I'm trying to share things written from other points of view besides that of straight white men.  If I've said less - and I have - this needs to be the reason why.  This is weighing right against right.  

But if I'm being honest, in this case it was more so the fear of the ad hominem that typically follows the expression of feminist ideas by men that gave me pause.  On reflection, if name calling is the best my opposition can muster, their position is ridiculously weak.  Satyagraha.  Bring it on.  Shutting up, suffering the slings and arrows, these are little compared to what our counterparts have endured for millennia.  It doesn't rise to the level of "plight".

Ergo...

My name is Patrick, and I'm a feminist.  And "a Social Justice Warrior".  And "a snowflake".  And "woke".  And virtual-signaling, for sure.  Definitely that.  So you're welcome to call me all those things but know first that in doing so you won't silence me.  I cannot let the fear of such petty accusations silence me.  My desire to do what's right should, and in this instance now finally does, weigh more.

So with that out of the way...

There are conversations that need be had, things that need be said, by men and to men, because issues like gender-based violence are not women's-issues-to-be-solved-by-women.  If they could have done that, they'd have done that centuries ago.  The problems of things like male predatory behaviour are a result of a culture that is largely defined by - and must therefore be corrected by - men.  And that means conversations need to happen.  I want those conversations to happen.

So I'm here to share with male acquaintances two things that I have found eye-opening in the last year or so, and to challenge them to consume them in the hope it leads to more and better conversations among us.  While I hope this inspires men to check into either or both, I'll also do my best not to spoil anything.  These two things actually come together nicely in a weird way, forming a sort of one-two punch to the brain:  the book helps one to understand what women are facing, the video to start to understand the male role in doing something about it, or rather, to at least get us to start talking about it.  I don't have the answers but it's past due we armed ourselves with the questions.

The Book:  "Know My Name", by Chanel Miller 

This is a brilliant read.  Chanel was sexually assaulted by Brock Turner, and after being known in the media as simply "Emily Doe" for a long time, chose to turn to her skills as a writer to tell her story, the whole story, from leading up to the event all through to living with the effects and enduring the trial and its outcome over the course of the years following.  You may think that violence, particularly sexual violence, and the injustices around such acts is something with which you are already familiar, but trust me on this:  this book answers questions you didn't know you had.  You will be introduced to the death-by-a-thousand-cuts experience of indignity that must be endured by survivors of sexual violence and a dozen things you'd probably never even considered.  Think you're angry about the (in)justice system now?  Don't worry, there's plenty more to be angry about along with plenty more empathy to be had for the survivors over things you didn't even realize happen.

The Comedy Special:  "X", by Daniel Sloss  

Whatever you think of stand-up Daniel Sloss' comedy, he has a unique ability to tackle delicate subjects in ways that inspire people to think, from disability and death ("Dark", on Netflix) to relationships ("Jigsaw", on Netflix), to toxic masculinity and more ("X", on HBO).  I'm not about to spoil it, but I'll just say this:  with "X", he touches on things that need talking about by men, to men, and among men.  What he said I found very relatable, and while it wasn't exactly 'revelatory' to me, I imagine it may be to many.  I feel as though things like 'his conversation with Nigel' is something men need to be able to face and discuss - openly - if we're going to start tackling certain elephants in the room.  And every man needs to hear Daniel's 'sad Ted talk'.

I hope to be part of conversations on these topics among men.  Such discussions tend to start slowly, one on one, and then in smaller groups.  In time, talk gives way to ideas.  Ideas give way to action.

I quoted Sloss above, in thinking on the need.

I leave you with Margaret Mead, in thinking on the potential.

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, 
committed, citizens can change the world. 
Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."  
[Margaret Mead]

The Balls are in the Air

"The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability
 to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, 
and still retain the ability to function."

[F Scott Fitzgerald]

Ability to function is the key takeaway, it seems.

Liza-Ann suggested to me that maybe I should write, to perhaps record for posterity what it was like living during the pandemic, to be able to look back on later.  I explained that I've thought of writing many times but... there's a problem.  While there are many things that come to mind, my process...  my usual process involves having a conclusion, a point to make, before I sit down to begin.  I come up with an intro, a metaphor of sorts, and then it's just a matter of connecting the dots.  For the more difficult topics, I'm often wading through the muck myself as I go, sorting things in my own head.

But this.  Living today?  I can't see the end.  I can't see where it all goes.  Instead my head is just a jumble of different scattered thoughts, like balls I'm trying desperately to keep in the air, and I've never been a very good juggler.

So today, I ramble.

Schrödinger's Pat

I exist right now in a rather torturous mental state, the very one I expect we all do, the pinnacle of self-doubt.  You're half way across town in the car and you find yourself wondering did I turn the oven off?  You cannot remember clearly enough to decide.  One half of your brain tells you not to panic:  surely you did, and even if you didn't it's not like the house would burn down.  The other half tells you you're not taking it seriously enough:  the house could be on fire, but if it's not, and you rush back right now, you could prevent that fire.

No one gaslights us better than we gaslight ourselves.

Are you taking the pandemic seriously enough?  Are you taking it too seriously?  Should you be staying in more?  Going out more?  Having people in more?  Staying to yourself more?  Are restaurants ok?  What about just drive-throughs?  Pick up?  Delivery?  Contactless delivery, surely that's ok.  

You exist now on a line that goes in two directions, and you know you're somewhere on it, but you know neither where you are nor where you should be because you're not even sure how far it extends either way.  You don't know exactly where friends and family are around you, because even those questions are delicate conversations.  If I'm being more cautious than them, will they think me paranoid?  If I'm being less cautious, will they think me reckless?

And that constant self-doubt permeates every aspect of one's day.  Every work decision.  Every parenting decision.  Every spending decision.  Every decision.  

Every.  

Decision.

Old Ghosts

I find myself haunted by peculiar old ghosts I don't talk about.

The problem with the scientific approach, the problem with the skeptical mind is that while it's easy to recognize the Texas Sharpshooter or wild coincidence and dismiss it as such, it is not without consideration, at least.  The skeptical mind does not keep things out; it takes them in and examines them first, and only then does it accept or reject.  In days of such widespread doubt, such 'unprecedented times', it's harder to set aside even the dumbest what ifs with only a cursory glance.

I do not believe in mystical prophecy (except as a fun story-telling tool).  But when I was young, as a teen and even before that, I very much did.  After all, Catholicism promotes a belief in the paranormal at the same time it condemns it.  So I read The Book of Revelations.  I read Nostradamus.  I very much expected the end-times to come with the rollover of the millennium - give or take the 4-6 years of inaccuracy in the Christian calendar start, of course, I was still an intellectual.  When they talked about nuclear proliferation in high school I thought it would surely take that form.  I had a recurring dream through my teens of being an adult and running away with a number of friends to a spot near Makinsons where we would set up our own tiny survivalist community of modular military tents in response to... whatever was inevitably coming.  If it was soon after seeing Red Dawn then it was probably the Russians.  If it was after Dawn of the Dead, maybe it was zombies.  Whatever it would be, it was coming sooner or later, so I embraced survival training like it would some day be very important.  Years passed and when talk about Y2K began, I pondered if that might be the beginning of the end.

As I got older and wiser I learned how every civilization, ever generation, has its own doomsday stories.  I realized it went from 1999 (Nostradamus) to 2000 (Y2K) to 2012 (Mayan Calendar) and any day now there'll be 2025 or 2050 - I can't remember which - based on the Book of Psalms.  I'm missing a rapture or two in there, I'm sure, as I stopped paying attention.  And each prediction gets that 'give or take 5 or 6 years because we don't really know when Jesus was born' window so as to spread out the panic a while and bridge us to the next doomsayer conspiracy.  Nowadays we get doomsday clocks for both nuclear war and climate collapse, and there's good science behind the latter, even if modern politics doesn't bring about the former.

So then the pandemic arrives.

And in these strange times, that recurring dream from my teenage years keeps popping back into my head, like it had been some sort of prescient vision.  We own very similar land, just 30 mins farther, in Markland.  Coincidence...?  

Fuck yes, of course it's coincidence.  

It's pure coincidence.  But the panicky mind grasps to make sense of things, to find something to cling to.  So it's become a tiny, stupid, sharp little splinter of the mind that just sticks there, and irritates periodically.

The Microscope

Covid-19 and climate destabilization may be existential threats, but they're also microscopes.  They have really focused attention on certain truths about human existence - about limitless human greed - that we've always suspected or perhaps known, but are now so very undeniable.  The need to cope with this virus and the growing changes to the planet's weather systems are symptoms, not causes, of mankind's modern struggle.  A few years back I saw a David Suzuki video about exponential growth in relation to the increasing human population and how it is leading mankind to the brink of disaster.  Our unfettered and insatiable need to grow (employees, salaries, profit margins, etc.) will be the death of us all.  That was nearly a decade ago, and no one has paid much attention.  But now, amidst a global pandemic, it's become really clear that we have the resources; it's a question of equitable distribution.  Bezos will never spend the mind-boggling amount of wealth he has accumulated.  Trickle-down economics are a lie.  The world produces 150% of the food required to feed us all but inefficiencies in distribution, a lack of diversification of agriculture, and our inability to properly share cold storage technology leads to a great many people starving to death every year and those numbers are expected to get worse, not better.  Locally, Dominion is on strike, but their CEO will probably still get paid her $6.7 million salary this year.

A lot of people think Trump's a problem.  His presidency is the symptom of a bigger problem: a divided America with a broken political system that, rather than find reasonable bipartisan compromises, plays a tug of war every few years and lets the pendulum of political will shift radically back and forth.  It's bought and paid for by the rich, manipulated by the media, interfered with by foreign interests, and ultimately somehow grants both too much and not enough power to the person it appoints.  The Canadian system is not much better.   The party that ran on election reform got in office, shrugged and said 'too hard, m'kay' and left that on the cutting room floor.

And let's not even get started on justice systems.

But we know now.  Undeniably.  Social media brought it into the light and the current challenges we face have brought it into focus.  Too few control too much.  Too few who can't be trusted to serve the greater good, but only themselves.  That has to change.

Silver Linings

Whatever the new world is, this isn't it.  Not yet.  It's one of the few things of which I feel quite certain.  This is just a transient period.  But there have been changes, and while change is always frightening, there have been positive changes among them.  

I think people are finally becoming aware of their unawareness, you might say.  You don't know everyone else's circumstance, so cut them some slack.  Show a little empathy.  Embrace compassion.  The Dalai Lama has been pushing a message of compassion as the path to mankind's saving itself from itself forever, but only now does it feel like maybe it's starting to slowly take hold.  Cut off from one another, spending so much time alone in our homes, struggling emotionally, has it finally sunk in for us that others also quietly suffer, and maybe it'd be better to greet them a little more gently, with a little more understanding.  When someone is forgetful or late, maybe instead of being quick to be critical, we can pause and ask ourselves what might have made them late or forgetful.

I've always tried to take a 'net neutral or positive' attitude about giving people breaks when driving.  I used to actually count it in my head when driving to and from work.  Someone gave me a break, minus one.  I gave someone a break, plus one.  I'd try to always arrive home at 0 or better.

Nowadays, I try to be even more generous.  I see someone waiting to turn and I think I'm not in that big a hurry.  They might be.  And if they honk or wave or nod, all the better.  We're being civil with one another.  And if there's one thing civilization needs more of right now, it's civility.

Pressing On

I learned recently of a number of old acquaintances dying.  These aren't exactly people I grieve, just... I don't know.  It's a reminder of mortality, I suppose.  I also know people closer to me who are grieving, dealing with losses, at different stages of that difficult journey... but now is not a time when we can arrange to 'bump into them' and ask them if they're ok, see if there's anything we can do.

And what we're all dealing with right now, living through a global pandemic, is a form of grieving itself.

Perhaps that's the note I end on:  my best and only real advice for grieving.

Time does not "heal all wounds".  You don't "get over it" or "move on".  Those are worthless platitudes.  Rather, you learn to carry it with you.  You learn to wear it proudly like a battle scar.  You learn to go on living.  You learn to appreciate the fond memories, and in time those come to mind more often than the sad ones or the sense of something missing.  You continue to find joy.  You focus on the good and find hope for the future.  You get up day after day, whether it is with a stride in your step or a sense of dread for the day, but you learn to get out of bed regardless, and press on, no matter how difficult or why.  And keep on pressing on.  Because that's how life goes.  In one direction.  Forward.

Cut someone a break in traffic today.  Maybe they'll smile or wave or honk.  Maybe you'll both feel just a tiny bit better.

Frere

"And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it's tough, and you can never get enough
Of what you don't really need now"

["Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out of", U2]

My brother wrote today about Mothers Day and what it means to him.  It was honest, and brave, and vulnerable.  He spoke of her life and her death.  He spoke of her struggle and his.  He spoke of feelings of deep-rooted guilt around moving away when he did.  He shared some of his painful truths.

I'm the youngest of four siblings and he's the oldest.  There are nine years between us.  I have no real memory of a time when Mom could walk.  I remember the walker, the canes, the railings.  I vaguely remember a car and lying bored in the back seat on those oh-my-god-so-long drives to Seal Cove to visit relatives, but I don't actually remember her driving or walking to the car.  For me, my mother's MS was something I grew up with.  For him, it was mostly something that came after.  I've written about my mother and my relationship with her many times.  I've written of how incredibly much her life and her death have taught me, and how, decades after, my fading memories of her still continue to shape the way I live, the way I love, the way I parent, and so much more.  I have shared some painful truths of my own.

And even though our stories intersect, our experiences varied.  In recent years, conversation between us has sometimes turned to these differences.  I've learned from him about times I was too young to remember; I've shared with him things from what came after he'd left.

I understand why he wrote what he did.  He writes for one of the same reasons I often have:  sometimes something on the inside needs to be on the outside.  To say it's "cathartic" feels like an understatement.  Sometimes, it feels like exorcism.  Only by taking the pain and holding it up in the daylight does it whither away.

And because I understand this process, and I understand his feeling of guilt, I know that a simple "Well I, for one, forgive you, brother!" is at the same time unnecessary and insufficient.  It's not my forgiveness or the forgiveness of our siblings he - or I - requires.  He lives in a prison he built himself, and only he can dismantle it, brick by brick.  As have I.

But I'm happy to provide what tools I have, based on my own experience, and to share with him my truths, for whatever they are worth.

His guilt resonates within me, with past feelings of my own.  I am quite familiar with the helplessness of watching someone suffer with MS, and with the cycles of self-pity (for the things you can't have), anger (for your helplessness to do anything about it), guilt (for being angry, when you're not the real victim here), and depression (because it's about all you're left with).  That tangled mess hardens like cement deep down in the soul until you know only that there's this incredible weight you carry with you and you've no idea exactly why or how to get rid of it.

When my mother died I was angry.  I was angry and I was lost.  It took me about three years to even begin to sort through that vicious anger-guilt-depression mix, and being I had, at 17, staved off the notion of suicide based on my rationalization that it would be to cause my mother yet-more-undeserved-suffering, this untangling came with a dose of wondering whether I should even go on living.  (Spoiler:  still here!)

What I discovered was the real root of my problem was this:  everyone wants someone or something to blame, because the idea of living a life with parameters beyond our control is truly frightening.  When you understand that, our motives and the ways we think and act start to make sense.  People who are self-destructive in relationships?  Control.  People who believe in god and a rewarding afterlife?  Control.  People who believe in the devil?  Control.  Not my fault, the devil made me do it.

For those of us who don't believe in the supernatural, it becomes a game of who we can blame.  Maybe it was your boss at work, or the government with their recent policy changes, or perhaps Becky because she started it all, after all, saying those hurtful things she did, right?  And when we can't blame someone else... we can always blame ourselves.  I'd been angry at Mom until I was old enough to realize how unfair that was, angry at God until I was old enough to realize how fruitless that was, and then angry at myself for having been angry at Mom or God.

But as 'men of science', as my brother and I consider ourselves, it is difficult to live with the notion that, well, sometimes, SHIT HAPPENS.  There's no tidy cause and effect diagram to be constructed.  There's just random bullshit.

Sometimes, it's just shit luck.  It's not god's fault, or the devil's, or anyone you know.  It's not yours.  What I was angry at was Multiple Sclerosis, because it's devastating, and not just to the person who has it but to all the family and friends forced to deal with it.  And there's no clear path or happy answers.  It is a disease as unrelenting as it is cruel, and our mother is not the only one we've watched suffer it.

But I don't have nice, tidy facts to offer.  I have only belief and a differing perspective.

Was she sad to see him leave?  Maybe.  Or maybe it was bittersweet because this woman defined her sense of self as "mother" and there was nothing more important in her life than her children, and there was a pride in seeing them grow up and leave the nest?  I can't really say.

He fears perhaps he may not have appreciated her as much as he should have, but I know the way her lessons inform his daily existence, just as they do mine, and there is no better way to appreciate someone passed than to carry them forward in your heart and mind.

On the day my mother died, my brother was the last to arrive from away.  He saw her in the afternoon, and then, when I left for supper, she finally passed.  I believed then as I believe now that she held on just to see him one last time, and then just a little bit longer for the youngest to be out of the room.  She needed to assure herself that we'd be okay without her, that she'd done good, that she could finally stop fighting for life.

I treat that idea as fact, though I have no science to support it.  It is one of the very few things in my life I treat as faith.

My brother offered an apology to his family for "not being the son I should have been", but I don't feel I'm owed one.  He's done his penance and so have I.  Was there a time when I was angry or resentful?  Sure.  Back at the same time I was angry at myself for whatever I felt I could have or should have done, before I understood that in a very narrow-minded, logic-first way it may not seem sensible to be angry at a disease, but if it's the truth you're after, that's what you're left with.  Back at a time when I didn't understand the wisdom of The Prodigal Son, the importance of family, of always leaving a road back, or of not casting stones but searching one's own soul first.  Back at a time when I didn't understand the self-administered, bitter, bitter poison that holding onto anger becomes.  And that time was a very long time ago.

There is nothing left for me to set aside, brother.  There is no anger in my heart for you, only love and respect and compassion.  To me, you are the one carrying this weight, just as I've carried mine.  I've done my best to forgive myself and set mine down, though I do still stumble over it from time to time.

Lay your burden down, brother.

(Easier said than done, I know.  Best of luck.)

Appendix B

"If, on the other hand, in the midst of difficulties

we are always ready to seize an advantage, 

we may extricate ourselves from misfortune."

[The Art of War, Sun Tzu]

I have been remiss.  There was, in fact, an incredibly important lesson that I've learned in the last twenty years of which I sometimes need reminding and might as well share too.  Indeed, it is perhaps the most crucial of all those lessons as it permeates every day, every situation, every decision.  It colors or at least should color how I react to the world around me.  In light of the current situation, as everyone begins wrapping their heads around the lock-down measures required to deal with the Covid-19 outbreak, it seems particularly timely.

One of my favorite ideas from one of my favorite books - ostensibly about war but really a manual for life and conflict-resolution in general - I have often quoted (possibly misquoted) as simply "Beneath disaster crouches opportunity".  Today I find myself unable to quickly source that particular translation from the text, with the closest being the one above.

In the late 50s and early 60s, John F Kennedy in speeches spoke of how the Chinese symbol for "crisis" was composed of two characters: 'danger' and 'opportunity'.  It's been re-quoted by various politicians, particularly American ones, since then, though he was actually mistaken.  That is not the correct translation.

But the accuracy of the translations is immaterial.  Any avid reader of The Art of War is familiar with the sentiment:  life (or leadership or war) is going to throw at you a whole array of good and bad, and success in life (or leadership or war) is not simply about embracing and leveraging the good, but about seizing upon whatever opportunities the bad brings with it.

It is easy to be disheartened in disaster.  It is instinctive to duck and cover.

In combat sports, one of the first things fighters must learn is to overcome the reflexive instinct to blink and react to every opponent's move or twitch.  They train themselves to keep their eyes open and watch.  You can't dodge and counter-attack if you can't see the incoming punch.  You can't allow yourself to react to every feint.  Instead, one must train the mind to wait, watch, and seize upon openings.

That's not easy to do.  It's not easy to do in regular life any more than in the ring either; to receive bad news and to search for the silver lining in that dark cloud takes practice.  Remind yourself there are likely opportunities to be had.  Search for them.  Make that your better instinct.

I host a weekly Dungeons and Dragons game at my house with friends.  Each year another group of friends spread between Newfoundland and Ontario get together for "Nerdfest".  This year I was set to host in April.  My weekly group won't be coming to my house tonight, but we will be meeting online.  My friends 'up away' won't be flying in a month, but this week have been busily creating online accounts for audio and game servers, just like the local group.  All this is to make it possible to play D&D, board games, and video games online together.  In fact, this may be the kick in the pants some of us needed in order to have more opportunities to socialize with friends of old than ever in the past.

Last night Liza-Ann, Dan, and I went for our first walk of the spring (sssh, give me this one) to get out of the house and get some fresh air.

This morning I dusted off a Facebook family group that hadn't seen a post in nearly two years, to reach out to friends and relatives and see how everyone is doing, and now long-overdue conversations have begun.

Rejoice, introverts, you can now safely reach out to all those people you've been meaning to be in touch with and have no fear they'll invite you for an awkward coffee date.  You can just chat, online, at a distance and pace that suits you!

But seriously...  Life is always going to throw shit at you.

So learn to slip and counter.

"You see a mousetrap

I see free cheese and a fucking challenge"

["Introdiction", Scroobius Pip]

Appendix A

"do you see the way that tree bends?
does it inspire?
leaning out to catch the sun's rays
a lesson to be applied
are you getting something out of this all encompassing trip?"

[Present Tense, Pearl Jam] 

Nearly 20 years ago, I wrote "my treatise on life", in which I set for myself ten basic rules for living.  It boggles my mind to think it was so long ago.  As I approach that 20 year mark, I've spent some time in recent months wondering how well that advice to myself has served me or what I've learned since that might be worth adding.  I gave thought to what I feel the last 20 years have taught me.

After reflecting, when I consulted the old list, I found just about everything was really only a further addendum or refinement of what's already there.  The advice I wrote myself was sound, and I've done my best to follow the path I set.

So while I'd intended to write a "Version 2", instead it's just an appendix.

My Treatise on Life, Appendix A:  20 Years Later

Pursue Your Own Happiness

You can't carpe all the diems.  You can't.  You simply can't.  I urged watching and rewatching Dead Poets Society until the heart swelled.  While I still think that's a good idea overall... (Note: certain aspects do not hold up and were more a sign of the times.  Don't kiss unconscious people, for example.)... I have also come to realize that, well, life is tiring.  And vacations, as fun as they are, are paid for in the sweat and tears of the mundane day-to-day existence.

So it's important in pursuing your own happiness to dial things in a little; there's no perpetual vacation.  You need to really learn to find joy in the little, simple things.  But before you think that's a sacrifice or disappointment, understand that the reality, when you really take a step back and get to know yourself and give it some real thought, is that when you come to understand where your happiness really comes from, is that it is often sourced in small and inexpensive things:  experiences shared with friends.  Sure, it'd be nice if those conversations would all be over drinks at the swim-up bar in a tropical resort, but when you realize it's the conversation, not the bar, the drinks, or even the sunny day that matters, that happiness is a lot easier to plan and to pursue, and you'll be a lot closer to achieving a day-to-day comfort that isn't exhausting in the acquisition.  Be prepared to order in pizza.  Don't tidy.  Don't plan something elaborate.  Just say "hey, c'mon over" and get together and let the laughter flow.

And yes, sure, still plan that vacation if you can, of course.  But any given Saturday afternoon can be a three hour vacation with a few friends and a movie, or a board game, or a road trip to wherever.  The biggest impediment to that is the gumption to send that text or Email or make that phone call, which means, frankly, the biggest impediment to your happiness may just be you.

Take Responsibility for Your Own Life

I've always voted, but for much of my life I didn't follow politics all that much.  It always felt larger-than-me, as though it wasn't going to affect me and was well beyond my control.  But as I've gotten older I've realized that's not true.  That's not how democracy works.  Democracy is about being engaged.  You determine your level of engagement.  It's not just about the voting booth.  It's about the day to day conversations.  It's about helping others around you to understand the issues and to see your perspective.  I'm not saying get in people's faces.  I'm saying the things that are important to you are worth learning and talking about, and the old expression about 'evil prevails where good people do nothing' applies to your engagement with the world around you.

Martin Niemöller was on to something.

Focus on Solutions and Not on Problems

Be wary of allowing yourself to be surrounded by negative people.  Note I choose the word 'negative', not 'critical' or 'cynical'.  I'm a critical person.  I'm someone who analyzes and overanalyzes.  I'm cynical.  I'm professionally cynical.  I'm actually paid to be cynical at times.  But overall, I view life in a very balanced way.  I find and appreciate the good as well as the bad.  I just do it after more consideration than most.

The difference between 'negative' people and 'cynical' people isn't the thinking or analyzing.  It's not their process.  It's their outcomes.  Cynical people give things a lot of thought, but the outcomes vary.  They are truthful, which means sometimes good and sometimes bad.  By 'negative' people, I mean people who - with or without an analytical process - somehow always manage to focus on only the negative outcomes.  There is an inevitability to their thinking.  The truth doesn't matter, because they are blind to the positives.

If you allow yourself to be surrounded by over-analytical types (like me), you can expect to have the negative - and positive - pointed out.  It may be sometimes uncomfortable, but it ultimately empowers you to make better decisions.  If you allow yourself to be surrounded by genuinely negative people, you can expect to miss out on the good because of those who constantly refocus you onto the bad.

If you are not their therapist, don't appoint yourself the position.  Send them to a real one.

Stop Fearing the Truth

My advice about handling the truth still stands, but the way in which I regard "truth" as a concept has changed considerably.

It's interesting that when it comes to truth, the example of "the sky is blue" is so often used as the most self-evident example that springs to mind, and yet, as I sit here typing this, the last of the predicted 20 cm of snow piling up in my driveway outside, it is quite clearly so demonstrably false.  It's white or gray, I reckon.  For now.

When I was younger, I believed in the notion of objective truths.  Sure, there's a such thing as opinion, but then there are other hard facts.  The earth is round.  Gravity.  I've always understood memory is imperfect, of course, but much like the protagonist in Memento, I've always thought a good many things in life are simple, unalterable, inalienable truths.  These are the things we need to learn and record.

As I've gotten older what I've come to realize is that the number of things that belong in the opinion category but which I'd previously regarded as being in that 'hard fact' category is tremendous.  Indeed, even the hardest and simplest of 'facts' are just best current theory tainted with historical perspectives.  A great many things we learned in school were only ever 'best guess', but classes didn't tend to come with disclaimers.  In some cases, they were grossly over-simplified explanations of complex things taught willingly by teaches who knew they were dumbing it down for our young brains.  In other cases, the teachers didn't know any better than the texts they were referencing.  But even the best, most accurate texts were based on what we knew back then.  Most people grow up never questioning the things they were taught 20 or 30 years ago, even though human knowledge and understanding have advanced considerably in the last 20 or 30 years.  We live our lives making decisions based on outdated information.

I still believe in honesty being the best policy.  I still believe in hiding as little as possible, as seldom as possible, and in confronting the truth, particularly in relationships. 

But I also now realize more and more every day that the world that is, and the world that I thought was, are farther apart than I'd ever imagined possible, and any obsessive pursuit of truth is bound to end in disappointment.

Cultivate Good Relationships

Relationships are not static things. They shift and change and evolve over time.  Cultivating good relationships is an ongoing process.  And most dysfunctional relationships don't necessary start out that way.  If so, they'd be easy to avoid.  Rather, we sometimes start what are good, healthy relationships but for whatever reasons - often the fault of neither - things twist and turn over time, and you find you've grown apart.  Watching close friends drift apart from me over the years has always been painful, but more recently, I've also come to realize it's also quite necessary.  Sometimes you reach a point where that relationship has taught you all it is going to teach you, it has soured, and now it holds nothing but the promise of more bad feelings.  If and when that time comes, if you are wise enough to realize and courageous enough to act, you may find yourself having to part ways with people you long ago assumed you'd be hanging with well after retirement.  It is not just lovers who come and go from our lives, but even the closest of friends too.

If the thought of seeing them makes your teeth grit instead of your heart flutter, it may be time to rethink things.

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

One of the best, simplest decisions I made for myself, years ago and with zero fanfare, was to resolve 'where my decimal' lies.  Of all the advice I give here, most of it is that sort of fluffy stuff you might find on motivational posters, but this one is a simple, practical exercise.

Years ago, in an episode of Law and Order, Ben Stone was talking about a rich man who was accustomed to making his problems go away by writing cheques.  I can't recall the exact circumstance or line, but the gist of it was this notion of 'creeping decimalism': the wealthier we are the less concerned we are about where the period goes among the zeroes.

I think this is a decision we should each make, and stick to.  Stop and consider for yourself: where you are right now in life, in terms of your personal financial circumstance, what is the lower-limit beyond which it is really not worth fretting?  A dollar?  Ten?  One hundred?  It's different for everyone, of course, based on what your financial situation is.  But there has to be a lower limit below which it is not worth the stress to even be bothered fretting over.  So don't.  Decide for yourself what that number is, and make a commitment to yourself to simply not give a shit below that number.  From now on, in the supermarket, shopping online, at that flea market, wherever, when you see that shiny thing, you need not needlessly pain yourself over whether to get it or not.  If it's below the line, get it without a thought.

But I'm not suggesting fiscal irresponsibility.  I'm merely suggesting a less-stressful strategy.  Because the corollary is that if it's above that line, then you've already also decided that it's worth fretting over, because it's significantly impactful.  Now you have to weigh the wisdom of this purchase.  I'm saying establish the criteria well in advance, and eliminate the stress of making that decision much of the time.  Re-examine that criteria every few years, or if your financial circumstances change significantly.  Don't waste time standing in the aisles of Dollarama scratching your head wondering what if you already have one at home.  If it turns out you do, give one away to a friend.  (Reduce, re-use, recycle.)

Be Humble

As I got into my late 30s and early 40s, I came face to face with the limits of my body.  No longer would I simply hop up over the knee-wall on the side of the driveway, but knowing I'd likely do something clumsy and injure myself, I'd walk around.  As someone who was active in his youth and fairly coordinated (hockey, drums, Aikido), this was a humbling and difficult experience.

But even that did not prepare me for what the last number of years have brought:  the realization that I cannot, by will alone, make myself do everything I know I should.  For a long time, I thought the will to act was the solution to most problems, and that I had a near-indomitable will.  But my will is not so strong as I thought.  I've found my limits.  I don't eat as well as I should, even if I know better.  I long rolled my eyes at people unable to quit smoking, but yesterday I intentionally didn't buy chips with groceries because I wanted to keep myself from them, only to turn around and get some at the Dollarama a few hours later during another errand when I caved.  There's a bag in the closet five feet away.  I doubt I'll last the morning.

In similar fashion, I've come to realize in the last five or so years just how much of my instincts are (poorly) informed by events of my youth.  And with that realization doesn't come any sort of instant correction.  With that realization comes the pain of realizing I will probably still have that wrong instinct for a long time to come, as I struggle to course correct whenever I catch myself.

In getting to know yourself, find your limits and learn to work within them.  You can't evolve and improve without an understanding of your baseline.

Forget "Fairness" and "Revenge", And Make The World A Better Place

Not everyone is going to like you.  Sometimes, their dislike for you will be unfounded or even irrational, maybe based in things you don't know or couldn't understand, the limits of their sometimes-erroneous, hard-coded instincts.  Learn to cope.

In any given group, no matter the thing that unifies them and their intentions, there will always be assholes.  In fact, to go a step farther, there will always be assholes who fuck it up for the others of that given group, in their intended unified goal, simply be being themselves, assholes.  No group of people is asshole-free.  None.  It's horribly unfair when you realize your sacred support group/book club/gaming session/whatever has allowed an asshole in, and sometimes you're powerless to get them back out.  But this is one of those unfair things in life you need to learn to deal with.

Learn to suffer fools; you'll meet plenty.

Bleed Willingly

The older we get, the more we find people we know dying all around us.  Sometimes it's expected.  Sometimes it's unpredictable and sudden.  I realize how cliche it is to suggest 'tell them in the living years', and I also realize how awkward it can feel and that no one reading this is about to suddenly rush out and go down through the list of people they know and love and tell them all so, least of all me.  I had one of those startling deaths a few months back, it still shocks and confuses me to even think about, and yet, I've still been too shy to speak up as much as I should with the people with whom I should.

But I'm working on it.  And so should you.

So perhaps better advice is simply this, a more optimistic approach:  be less petty and less distracted, and try to focus on the best aspects of the people you know and love, so that you might best appreciate them while you still have them here.  Someday all that will be left is the memories of your shared experiences.  Make as many good memories now as you can.

And Most Important of All:  Be Yourself

Most important of all, fall in love with yourself.  Learn who you are.  Accept who you are.  Enjoy who you are.  Grow.  Evolve.  Become who you choose to be.  Surprise people.  Support them as they learn and change and evolve.

Be someone wonderful and unique.

Still Counting the Ways

"Oh, it's a fragile thing
This life we lead
If I think too much I can get overwhelmed by the grace
By which we live our lives with death over our shoulders"

["Sirens", Pearl Jam]

Back in April of 2018, I started a list of things I love about Liza-Ann.  With Valentine's Day approaching, I thought I'd go back to my secret list and share a few more.  Once again, I present them in no particular order.

#13 She's Polite

Over the last number of years, working as a consultant, I've become much more keenly aware of simple courtesy.  'Please' and 'thank you' are powerful words.  They are the lubricant that keeps the social machine running smoothly.  And while my close friends would most assuredly tell you I'm still a sarcastic knob (and I am), I've made a concerted effort to be very diligent with being courteous, in all avenues of my life.

Liza-Ann is a very courteous person, quick with please and thank you.  It may not seem like a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but I think it really is.  In a long-term relationship, 'please' is a consistent reminder of respect, and 'thank you' a consistent reminder of appreciation.  I've been in relationships in the past where these things became "assumed", but here we are, 15 years in, and they are not assumed, and I'm glad for this to be the case.  "Love is an action verb," as Liza-Ann says.

#15 She's Tidy/#17 Only Some of our Obsessive-Compulsions Overlap

I'm a tidy person.  I've lived with a number of roommates who ran the gamut, but mostly skewed toward the messy end.  When it comes to co-habitation, this is one of those things that only happens in one direction.  Messy people seldom find much issue with a roommate that is tidier than they are, but every tidy person consistently resents having to tidy up after more than themselves.  Love is a powerful thing, but cohabitation requires a certain pragmatism.  Liza-Ann is a tidy, highly-organized person, much like myself, and has certain compulsions when it comes to keeping certain things clean and tidy.  Even more, our compulsions don't overlap much, which gives us each the freedom to feed the monkeys on our backs without stepping on each other's toes much.  The net result is a tidy home we can both enjoy.

A few weekends ago we reorganized the kitchen cupboards. Most people wouldn't think of that as a 'fun couples activity'.  For us it is.  Together we made our home a little bit better, and we enjoyed doing it.

#21 She Understands My Stranger Limits and Doesn't Shame me for them/ #30 She Makes me a Better Man

I have some peculiar limits.  Like I have social anxiety in particular circumstances, and it's not even necessarily consistent.  It's hard to explain.  Liza-Ann has come to learn these odd limits, and she is pretty accommodating about them.  She doesn't necessarily push me to change.

It is a fundamental failures of any relationship to want, expect, or wait for someone to change into who you want them to be.  People do change and grow, yes.  But you can't make them.  You can't control and direct it.  Nor should you want to.  Love them for who they are.  Love them for who they are becoming.

You can, however, help them.  You can give them that room they need to grow and encourage them as they grow in whatever direction it is that they need to.

I really feel like Liza-Ann does this for me.  I'm changing, evolving, particularly these last few years.  And LA has only ever encouraged and helped me in that.  I don't feel she's ever done anything to stifle it.  By not pushing, just encouraging, by giving me the space I require, she has empowered me to be a better man.  And I'm grateful for it.

And So...

My writing is usually in a narrative style.  There's supposed to be a reveal, a conclusion.  I'm working toward something.  But this is a story that's not over.  This is the middle.  And it's not spiraling toward some momentous romantic thing, because that's not the nature of a beautiful, enduring relationship.  If anything, the ending will hopefully be tragic, bittersweet, and in our 80s in a nursing home.

This, this is comfortable.  It's a warm hug when you get home.  It's playing with the fluffy cat while you both fold laundry, grumbling together over the mess in the kitchen the kid left behind or smiling together at the report card he brought home.  It's curling up on the couch together to watch a movie and then comparing notes as to what you both thought of it.  It's sending each other TV show trailers and restaurant menus.  It's planning vacations and inviting friends.  It's shoveling the driveway together and figuring out who's doing the driving today.  It's taking turns picking up Tims.

It's paradoxically both miraculous and matter-of-fact.

And it's wonderful.