Sunday, September 30, 2012


Just yesterday we had a death in our family.  My stepfather, having diabetes and cancer and the other infirm symptoms that 84 years of age provides, died in his sleep.  Very soon my wife, my oldest son, and I shall be driving to Kamloops, British Columbia for the Wednesday morning funeral.  My daughter will, no doubt, meet us there, driving from Port Alberni, British Columbia.  My youngest son will stay put (studying) in Amsterdam.

Where do we come from? Where are we going? These questions are asked again and again and again in Psychology, Philosophy, and Kindergarten.  At my Autumn age, the significant questions seem to be more reflective: What should I have done by this time in my life? How can I live a life to feel good about the impact I have on others each and every day?

In my private counseling practice it seems not uncommon for clients to look back on their lives as proof of the things they've done wrong.  I, being likewise, have made a pact with myself. In my next lifetime I’m not having kids – I can only imagine the money I’ll save (though I truly, truly love my children).  In my next lifetime I’ll busk wherever and whenever I want – I can only imagine the fun I’ll have (though I truly, truly love being an educator).  In my next lifetime I’ll not focus so much on real estate – I’ll buy only a broom closet for an abode – I can only imagine the mortgage stress I’ll not have (this one could more true than the statements previous).

We are all just four self mands (see Skinner) from the new beginnings in our lives.  I PLEA you take heed.  (Generally, I laugh at such acronyms because they seem to be contrived, precluding the suggested directions being offered.  However, when I include such mnemonics within my fustians, I attempt to wittingly devise them, gleaning them after my actual constructs.)

Picture your goals.  Oftentimes I see myself as a cowboy busker.  I wear the western boots, the boot cut denims, the western shirts, the cowboy hat.  Other times I see myself as a folk singer, a real Bobby Dylan wannabee.  I wear the work boots, the long short pants, the t-shirt, the shades, all headed with a tam or a toque or nothing at all.    

List a couple associated priorities.  Oftentimes during the months October through May, every Thursday evening I and my music mates gig under the band name, The Grand Trunk Troubadours.  Other times I do the odd solo gig under the performance names of either Seahorse or Friday Harbor.

Energize.  Oftentimes I lift weights at the university gym.  Other times during the fair weather seasons, I run long distances, the minimum being three miles.  Oftentimes I write.  Usually I make a blog entry (this blog) once a week.  Other times I practice my guitar, my banjitar, my harmonica, and soon, my red didgeridoo.

Acknowledge your stressors.  Oftentimes my stressor is time.  There is never enough time, not enough hours in the day, not enough seasons in the year, to just go out and busk.  Other times my stresses are mainly my children (though all are adults and will roll their eyes when they read this).  As a parent, I know when this particular kind of unimagined stress will end – It will end when I end. (And this brings us back to what this blog entry is all about, doesn’t it – DEATH.)

Each of us (and this includes our children) has a destiny to live and to die and to be agog in an a-go-go world.  It very well could be that our destinies lie in the reality that exists beyond our senses and perceptions of time.  Perhaps this is so, perhaps not. 

Just as I am the hero in practically every story that I tell, so too, can you be the hero in all the stories you tell.  Take a look at your funereal life.  Start creating your own exciting and new story right now.  Be the hero of that story, and take the beginning steps for your heroic journey. 

Be the YOU that says hello to life and good-bye to death.

On such a lively note, I wish to acknowledge three especial characters that have marched in my Chaucerian parade this past week:  Gerard, Ann-Marie, and Aleksi Campagne.

Gerard.  Gerard is a local busker with a finger gift for guitar.  The man can pluck and strum.  He is one of three people who’ve ever strummed my guitar on my own busk!

Ann-Marie.  Ann Marie has the sweetest angel’s voice whilst she quietly strums her acoustic guitar.  I first listened to Ann Marie when I was on a long-distance run around Wascana Lake.  I noticed this beautiful folk-bird strumming and singing on the lakeshore and I stopped and I stared … but only for a moment.  I met her again while busking in downtown Regina, and again, just yesterday when she joined me on a busk at Value Village.

Aleksi Campagne.  I went busking a couple times with this violinist virtuoso.  Aleksi is from La Belle Province, Quebec, Canada.  Aleksi and I were a busking duo, first in the Regina Downtown Plaza, then again in the outdoor Fred Hill Mall.  Google Aleksi Campagne and you’ll see and hear some great videos of his virtuosity.  Aleksi is at present, deservedly studying near Paris, France. (His picture is at the beginning of this blog entry.)

No comments:

Post a Comment