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| MY HARLEY BIKER FRIEND AT THE LEGISLATIVE LANDING |
Know thyself. And what of this ancient Greek aphorism? Who, among us, know themselves? Not-so-strangely, even though I exist as a
singular being, I have been many selves so far in my life. As a professed existentialist, believing that
I was born without purpose into a world that makes no sense, along with
everyone else wittingly or unwittingly, I have had to create many selves to
survive. Furthermore, as an existentialist, I know that I am personally
responsible for creating my own purpose in life. I also know that my life purpose has not been
assigned by my parents, has not been assigned by my teachers, has not been
assigned by government, and has not be assigned by God. Everything I do has been assigned by me, me,
me, me.
Factoid: I am not a dull wit; nor am I a blank slate. Despite
my preamble, I know I was not born into a social vacuum. I am deeply and continually influenced by
social structures and norms.
Factoid: Humans create structures and norms because we
need something in our world to make sense.
The structures and norms we create provide us a sense of security and
predictability, offering a delusional sense of control.
Familiarizing myself and being attracted to certain of
these structures and norms, I can be whoever I want to be. I am not stating that the extension of my
potential is limitless, but I am stating that, for the most part, the only
barrier to my succeeding in most things is me.
Yes, the only barrier to my success is me, myself, and I.
A couple of disclaimers are appropriate. Firstly, I am 6’1” tall. I was never destined to play in the NBA. No matter how strong my passion for doing so,
the odds of me being drafted into the NBA are zero. Secondly, truly I am of above average intelligence. Even so, I was never destined to be a nuclear
scientist. I have never had a passion
for numbers; in academia, I have had only passions for English literature or
Psychology. There was never a moment when I imagined myself as a nuclear scientist. My odds of being a professional in any
numerical regard, including even a mathematics teacher, is the same as those for
me being drafted into the NBA – zero.
These are rather simple examples that disproves that I can be anything I
set my mind to. Life choices have
limits, sometimes due to physicality, sometimes due to mental ability, but
always due to desirability.
As I stated a couple paragraphs ago, my potential is certainly
not limitless. But nothing so far has
stopped me from being a busker. For this
I have the wherewithal. For my physical
presence, I can stand on a street corner and play guitar while blowing a
harmonica. In doing so, I project that I
am tall, silver, Hollywood handsome, and in my cap-a-pie costume of messy shock
of hair, white and tight-fitted t-shirts, faded jeans, and shiny black work
boots. For my psycho-social presence,
along with my musicianship .. I can sit on a park bench or in some booth at a farmer’s
market with my pencil and sketchpad and draw striking likeness to any person’s
face. Both making music and drawing
faces are mercenary adventures with predictably lucrative returns. Having an
extroverted and witty conversationalist (phatic chat being my raison d’etre), I
have and continue to succeed as a busker.
Know thyself. In this blog entry I shall express to
the reader that my current self is that of a busker, and how being in this role
relates to existentialism. In cheeseparing
fashion, I shall parse the three fundamental tenets of existentialism, Phenomenology,
Freedom, and Authenticity, connecting them to my guitar busking
on the street or my pencil busking in the park.
PHENOMENOLOGY means to me, the ability to make sense
of coincidence, by describing coincidence from a personal perspective. I just happened to be hiking around Nelson,
British Columbia when I noticed for the first time, guitar
and accordion buskers performing on Baker Street. After that ah hah moment, watching and listening
to these performers, I knew I had the musical skills, too, to be a guitar
busker. And traveling Europe one summer,
I took quite an interest in the street portrait artists, who were all in a
line, drawing the tourists of Amsterdam. In this eureka moment, I realized that any portraits
I drew could easily compare with those of these Netherlands street artists.
FREEDOM is just another word for nothing left to
lose, according to singer-songwriter, Kris Kristofferson. Maybe this is true. As I age with certain regrets, I am more and
more realizing I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, with consequence, but
not necessarily regret. Being a busker
with my guitar and harpoon or with my pencil and sketchpad is the perfect
example of me doing what I want.
AUTHENTICITY is to blend one’s personal narrative into
behaving according to one’s imagined sense of freedom. Authenticity is the knowing who we or who we
want to be in any given moment. Such awareness
is Zen-like. I love to tell stories. Anyone who knows me and especially those who
have ever taken one of my Psychology classes at the university (over the last
23 years) will vouch for me on this. And
I love to write. Anyone who has followed this blog over the last 20 years, I am sure, will vouch for me on
this.
A person who lives only in a personal world is insane. You know the people I am referring to. Just yesterday walking home from work I could not help but notice a craggy and hirsute individual sitting cross-legged on the curb yelling to himself while waving his trigger finger in his own face. He was certainly living for those moments in his personal world, and during those moments I would certainly dub him to be insane. The more people who inhabit a collectively created world, the saner it seems and the saner one becomes. Now had there been a few more people sitting alongside him doing the same thing, I probably would have thought something else, something a little more normal to be happening.
We attempt to make sense in response to the
social reality we inhabit. For example, I know what it is like to live in the suburbs
where the white picket fences all kind of look the same, the backyard trampolines
all kind of look the same, and even the parents and kids in the neighborhood
kind of all look the same. When I lived
in the suburbs, I was living in accordance to most of my middle-class ilk at
the time, during that time in my life when our kids were young and in school
and in sports and in … and in … and in …
But now I inhabit a world of local buskers and even more
so, congregate in a world of local singer-songwriters. Granted, I am likely double the age of most members in this strummer-thrummer world, and as delusional as this may seem, I consider myself to be a popular member. Socially, I imagine myself to be very close to these couple dozen guitar-slingers, who not by happenchance, are oftentimes, gig-mates of mine at THE BUSHWAKKER BREWPUB and THE CURE, both bars situated right downtown in Regina.
Yes. I am the kinetic protagonist of my own story. In the moments where I am actually out there on the street as a busker, projecting to my consumers and others, I am this authentic and free spirit, cap-a-pie costumed in whatever I want, drifting hither and thither to wherever I want for as long as I want.
I KNOW I AM NOT PERFECT --
BUT IN THESE BUSKING MOMENTS I AM CREATING THE PERFECT ME!
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