SKETCHES OF MARRAKECH: A BILLET-DOUX FROM THE PLANETARY PORTRAIT BUSKER

MOHAMMED AND SELF ON THE SQUARE

I met Mohammed BEFORE I went to the mountain.  He was busking in Marrakech Square, singing Western pop songs, and I was walking the square with Travers and Sila (my son and his girlfriend).

From a gathering crowd of a hundred or so people, he pointed directly to us, gesturing to join him in song.  Much obligingly, I jumped into his buskspot, grabbed his guitar, and sang a set of four original songs.

I’m just back from Marrakech – in this particular blog entry, a picture is certainly worth a thousand words.  I went to Marrakech to hike in the Atlas Mountain Range with Travers and Sila.  They live in Amsterdam; I live in Canada.  While in Marrakech I did some guitar busking and some pencil portraits.  The main marchers in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week are those whose portraits I drew.  And I just had to include a macedoine of the cultural and commercial street action in the Marrakech markets.

MOHAMMED

 

SILA AND THE MONKEY THAT BIT HER

A CHARMED COBRA

SILA, TRAV, AND SELF HIKING IN THE ATLAS RANGE

 

SILA AND TRAV ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN

OLIVES FOR EVERY MEAL

ORANGES FOR EVERY MEAL

TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

Regular readers of this blog know the theme of HOCKEY is oftentimes my companion.  Ever embracing PHENOMONOLOGY, what are the odds that my friend and former legendary NHL’er, DREW CALLANDER, currently scouting for my hometown Regina Pats of the Western Hockey League (WHL), would be on my same flight from Calgary to Frankfurt.  Drew was en route to the International Ice Hockey Federation (IIHF) U18 World Championship in Slovakia.  Drew and I had lunch together in the Calgary Airport and then visited at length on our trans-Atlantic flight.  We parted ways on arrival to Frankfurt.  

DREW TEXTED THIS PICTURE FROM VIENNA

ANOTHER VIENNA PICTURE FROM DREW

MY ONLY TRAVEL BAG

From my panjandrum point of view and very much in contrast to my flight over to Europe, I’ll end this essay with the Brit seated next to me on my return flight from London to Calgary.  He and his two buddies noisily boarded together, and they provided non-stop nonsense and rubbish the whole way to Canada.

Have you ever sat beside guy for nine hours on a plane whose idea of joking with his buddies was directly addressing them as retard?  Have you ever sat beside a guy for nine hours on a plane who drank over a dozen alcoholic beverages, and ate every bit of food the airline provided and continuously burped and coughed into his hand while doing so?  Have you ever sat beside a guy for nine hours on a plane whose idea of joking with his buddies was placing his empty booze bottles on their chests while they slept and then laughing hysterically when they awoke and were somewhat startled by the presence of the bottles, the bottle dropping from their chest and rolling down the aisle?  Have you ever sat beside a guy for nine hours on a plane who played games or watched adult cartoons on his IPad? Have you ever sat beside the quintessential asshole for nine hours on a plane? 

Well I have.  All part of my bildungsroman, I know, and I must admit that I survived to write about it.  And the skinny when I introspect my busking adventure in Marrakech:  

IN MARRAKECH, 
MY PENCIL IS MIGHTIER THAN MY GUITAR!

FINIS.

DEFINED BENEFITS PENSION ... DEFINED BENEFITS PENCHANT ... DEFINED BENEFITS TENSION: INTO AFRICA

MOUNT TOUBKAL

Regular readers of this blog know that I like snappy titles, and my essay title today represents this affection and needs a quick explanation.

DEFINED BENEFITS PENSION … a company pension plan in which an employee’s pension payments are calculated according to length of service and the salary they earned at the time of retirement.

DEFINED BENEFITS PENCHANT … the calculated benefits achieved from strong habitual liking for something.

DEFINED BENEFITS TENSION … the calculated benefits gained from mental or emotional strain.

INTO AFRICA … 

I’m going into Africa tomorrow, and will be hiking Mount Toubkal in the Atlas Range near Morocco.   INTO AFRICA is my clever take on OUT OF AFRICA by Isak Dinesen, published in 1937, and is considered among the top 100 non-fiction English books ever written.  In 1985 it was made into a movie of the same name starring Meryl Streep and Robert Redford.

All this defined benefit info is crucial to my having the ability of getting into Africa.  And trust me, dear readers; my argument for such benefits will make sense before dipping my quill into the inkwell to pen a thousand more words or less.

Around the corporate water cooler there is always talk of the slow but sure dissolution of company Defined Benefits Pension programs.  Such modern times, because of cost, are disunion times for defined benefits pensions.  To put it another way, the traditional government Cadillac pension is everywhere transmogrifying into a Kia counterpart.  And to put it even another way, the Defined Benefits Pension is fast becoming the darling dinosaur company savings dollar, one that will never return.  But so what …

At my age in my world, in the here and now a fundamental recurring question in philosophy is, “Who am I?”   Answering candidly and succinctly for myself at present, I exist only for the reason all things exist, and that reason is evolution.  This notion works for me.  Indeed I am promoting the cause and continuing the species; I have three kids.  (And it just so happens that I am meeting the youngest of my offspring in Marrakech, Africa tomorrow.)

Hmmm … my offspring define me then?  Perhaps this is true, but not completely.   Other significant variables come into evolutionary play.

Certainly not meaning to scumble my procreative accomplishments, it also could be that my WORK, too, defines me.  I am a counsellor/therapist; I am a guitar and didge and portrait busker; seems I am whatever I want to be in this regard.  Saying thus, however, I am not my job.  If I were to measure my personal and social status by my job, I will most certainly end up in an emotional jeopardy when I quit or retire.

A rather BIG definition for who I am is … I am a BABY BOOMER.  And, as it happens, being a baby boomer, means I am performing in the third act of my life.  Baby boomers are those of us born betwixt 1946 and 1964 – I was born in 1951.  According to Lawrence R. Samuel (The New and Improved Third Act of Life, 2017), baby-boomers are those 60-somethings who are going back to school, starting new relationships, exploring their creativity, and embarking on encore careers.  Also, these third-act boomers are still working, unwilling or unable to accept that their minds and bodies have gotten older.  These kinds of boomers are in denial, as they desperately cling to their remaining notion of youth.

And so until infirmity when I quit or retire, what do I want to be when I grow up in Act III.  I must admit that if I do not grow in my third act performance, I’d consider myself to be just another wrinkled namby-pamby, two-dimensional character, going for coffee and chuckles with the former work colleagues a couple times of week.

I know that I am not my job.  I need more than work to define myself.  Perhaps I can turn to PLAY for my definition.  PLAY is where I continue to cultivate relationships and friendships beyond my work boundaries

To play means to get happy.  To get happy usually means having a passion for a particular kind of behavior.  Even though I’m now in Act III, I believe it necessary to develop and grow from the first and second acts to exit the stage with both dignity and passion.

An aficionado is a person who fervently pursues an interest.  By such definition, I am an aficionado in the regards of guitar and didge and portrait busking especially.  Around my ruck of fans and friends, I strive to be the quintessential sang-froid, Americana busker.

Social psychologists have tagged baby-boomers as the first ageless generation in Western history.  Social psychologists also state that interpersonal relationships are everything.  And so to have such a hobbyhorse as busking, I am totally immersed in my Zen-to-go relationships.

I guess I am one of those baby boomers who will stoop to pretty much anything to avoid being branded as irrelevant or obsolete.  I guess I am just a baby boomer, in my third act, searching to find meaning and purpose in my life.

Meanwhile back at my snappy title explanation:

• DEFINED BENEFITS PENSION

Years ago I cashed in my defined benefits pension, and the practical benefits being to experience some international busking, and also being able to monetarily help my children in their post-secondary academic endeavors.

• DEFINED BENEFITS PENCHANT

Over past decades I’ve developed not only a penchant for busking, but a serious penchant for fitness.  Physical endurance (strength and stamina) is the most significant pre-requisite for being a busker.

• DEFINED BENEFITS TENSION

A psychologist would certainly suggest it could be that my penchant activities are simply a stalking-horse from my work-a-day woes, an opportunity to perform on the street stage my designed alterity.  It could be but I doubt it.   I must admit though, escaping to play in this regard does help rid, for those strumming moments, the tensions of any sturm und drang brewing in the backdrop of my life.

• INTO AFRICA

When I am out of Africa I have some immediate plans.

Factoid:  I’ve now got it in my head that I am going to pursuit Street Hypnotherapy.  I’m thinking, for a faux busker and pseudo-academic such as me, being a street hypnotherapist is the right way to go.  I plan on plying my new street trances this very summer.

Another factoid:  I am currently writing a book about schizophrenia and hypnotherapy as a treatment.  Once published, I am hoping to hit the international stage, speaking on what I know about schizophrenia from an empirical point of view.   

I’ll close this essay with a line from another hypnotherapist, Terrence Watts: 

You’ll never know how you could be if you decide to stay as you are.

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week:

MY BEST SIGNS A TWO-YEAR NHL CONTRACT

BARON, BRUTTO TEMPO BUSKER

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BARON!