BE A LIVE WIRE! REWIRE!

 

I received this book as a Christmas gift, and it is awesome!  It is awesome because I can project all the meaningful contents Eagleman presents to how I function!

Midway through his book, Eagleman states that “Reward is a powerful way to rewire the brain, but happily your brain doesn’t require cookies or cash for each modification. More generally, change is tied to anything that is relevant to your goals.”  In short, whatever your goals, your brain will devote its resources accordingly.

In my young adulthood I decided one day that I would love to be a swimming instructor.  Being a university student (English Literature major) at the time of this game-changing decision, I simply added three swimming classes to my university subject load, Physical Education 110 (Learning to Swim), Physical Education 210 (Bronze Medallion), and Physical Education 310 (Instructor Level Swimming).  English Literature was my major, Phys Ed was now my minor.

At the time I was a decent swimmer; after all, I was a scuba diver, member of the National Association of Underwater Instructors (NAUI) with at least 50 dives under my weight-belt. I thought I was a decent swimmer! Participating in these three swimming classes was a humbling experience, to say the least! To keep up and to stay in the same current with my other class members who all happened to be Physical Education majors, I had to rewire my brain!

And in so wiring, each morning at 7 o’clock I dove into the university pool swimming lanes for my one mile individual medleys of Butterfly, Backstroke, Breaststroke, and Freestyle until I finished by degree. For the first semester it was grueling, for the second semester it was refreshing, and by the final semester it was perfunctory. During which time I also joined the university dive team!

Swimming enhanced my life! After graduating university I taught swimming all year long at the YMCA for a dozen years. In summer I taught swimming and diving at the outdoor pools, in winter I taught swimming and diving indoors at the main pool.

Somewhere during my professional swimming years, I decided to become a long-distance runner. After all, at the time I was decently fit, I thought!  Being water-fit is not the same as being road-fit. I studied The Complete Book of Running by James Fixx and started to run Long-Slow-Distance (LSD) every day. As it happened, I met a fellow runner, Burt, and we ran together for over twenty years.  By together I mean we ran 13 half-marathons at The Echo Lake Road Race and a couple of complete marathons in affiliation with The Saskatchewan Marathon.

Running, too, enhanced my life! As a high-school counsellor, for one of my extra-curricular duties I coached long-distance running. And then later in my career as an educator, I was asked to introduce a running curriculum for incarcerated young offenders, of which I was a participant-observer for seven years. I even based my master’s degree thesis, ONE HUNDRED DAYS AT THE HOUSE OF CONCORD, on this running program. At this point I must pay tribute to the American educator, JIM DEATHERAGE and his Reading, Writing, and Running class! (I phoned Jim to discuss his class and he encouraged me to replicate his concept for my classes up here in Canada! Jim, I owe you many, many miles of fitness and economic bliss!)

As it happened during my master’s study years, one of my Psychology professors insisted I submit one of my graduate papers to a publisher – he thought it was that good!  And apparently it was! My book, A WISHBONE EPISTOLARY was published by the University of Toronto Guidance Centre in 1985, the royalties of which long since got and spent.

And so, then I knew that being a published author was relatively a simple chore, was easy-peasy so to speak. At the time, this is what I thought! I was so very wrong! I wrote a sequel to my Wishbone, but that was rejected. Or rather, it needed lots of revision.  It needed lots of revision for which I had neither the time nor energy to deliver. Not until this year, 2023, did I finally rewire my brain, did I gather the time and energy to complete QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH and was rewarded by WOOD DRAGON BOOKS with my second published book!  (My brain is still on rewire and I’ve written two more drafts for two new books to be completed in 2024.)

Swimming. Running. Writing. These are three of my brain-rewire examples to date for which I have received many a reward. I wanted to be a swimming instructor – I swam every day until I became a swimming instructor. I wanted to be long-distance runner – Rain or shine, sleet or heat, I stuck to my running regimen every day for years until I became a marathoner. I wanted to be a writer – As of late, I wrote at least a page every day until I became a published book author once again. And now, after my Xmas vacation skiing at Big White near Kelowna, British Columbia, I want to be a down-hill ski instructor! (On January 5^th, 6^th, and 7^th, of this year I am registered in the Canadian Ski Instructors’ Alliance Level 1 Certification to be held at the Mission Ridge Ski Resort near Regina.) I know that to be a certified ski instructor I will have to ski, ski, ski, just like I had to swim, swim, swim, and just like I had to run, run, run, and write, write, write. Live wire action repeated, repeated, repeated is the key to one's brain rewire. *Read Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 hours theory in his book OUTLIERS (2008). 

One of my at-arm's-length colleagues asked if I were now thinking of retiring to become a professional ski bum. Nope. I AM NOT RETIRING – I AM REWIRING! But to be a bona fide and certified ski bum, I need to rewire my brain yet again!

My colleague’s comment was not at all abstruse, for I am dangerously assuming that my colleague who thought I was about to retire was suffering a tad of ageism toward me when he said this. Hmmm. And he knows that I am only 72 years old! 😊

In my defense, many say that age is just a number, and there are always people proving this notion to be true. I am not oblivious about my age. I am 72, but I am not moribund! I shall now offer up such people in their areas of expertise (and my areas of interest) where, indeed, age is just a number.

I loved playing hockey -- Now I love shinny!  Professional hockey player, Gordie Howe played his final game in a rink of the National Hockey league when his was 52 years of age. I love boxing. Boxer, Steve Ward, had his final round of professional fisticuffs in the ring when he was 61 years old. I love being a singer-songwriter. Singer-songwriters, Bobby Dylan and Kris Kristofferson are respectively aged 80 and 87. I love being a hypnotherapist. Psychologists, William Glasser and Carl Jung and Carl Rogers celebrated their retirements at their own funerals, respectively at the ages of 88, 85, and 85.

SHINNY AT BIG WHITE SKI RESORT

Granted, these comparisons are somewhat skewed in an apple-to-oranges sense that I am presenting athleticism as being measured on the same longevity ruler as academia, and too, that my personal athletic and academic triumphs are in the same league as the aforementioned hockey heroes and world renown psychologists! For the common-sense record, these measures cannot be compared. But with regard to thematic, they must be! Instructor level down-hill skiing relies heavily on athleticism, lightly on academics. To earn my reward of a certified instructor ticket, I must be able to perform both physically (on the hill) and academically (on written exam).

As mentioned at the front of this blog entry, “Reward is a powerful way to rewire the brain, but happily your brain doesn’t require cookies or cash for each modification. More generally, change is tied to anything that is relevant to your goals” (David Eagleman).  In short, my brain will devote its resources accordingly to accommodate my immediate goal in 2024 to be a certified ski instructor.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I will spend my final years, rewired and retired on the slopes in the crazed plummy role of a ski-bum!

HEADING FOR THE SLOPES

HAPPY NEW YEAR, YOU LIVE WIRES! 

MAY ALL YOUR RESOLUTIONS BE REWIRES! 

 

 

 

MERRY KRISKRINGLEMAS -- YOU ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR LAST (fill in the blank)!

CHRISTMASTIME OPEN MIC AT THE CURE

Cliché after cliché states that you are only as good as your last performance, or you are only as good as your last bat, or you are only as good as your last press release.  I will add a few more that are closer to home for me: You are only as good as your last song, or you are only as good as your last book, or you are only as good as your last blog entry.

And if you are lucky, sometimes your last bat or last song or last book offers a certain notoriety, at least temporarily. “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes” (so sayeth Andy Warhol).  For fifteen minutes.  Yes.  Just fifteen minutes.  And after that if you want another fifteen minutes of fame, you will need to enact or replicate a performance that is popular among your critical masses yet again.

I do know that fifteen-minutes-of-fame feeling. When I was a grad student one of my professors suggested I expand a psychology paper that I had written into a book.  I took heed, sent it to a publisher, and voila!  A Wishbone Epistolary was published by the Guidance Centre, University of Toronto in 1985!  And when my Wishbone book was included in a mail-out packet sent to every member of the Canadian Guidance Counselling Association, I received a load of royalties, some fan letters, and my first real fifteen minutes of fame!

Shortly A Wishbone Epistolary was published, I defended my thesis and was awarded my master’s degree.  And right after that, I was assigned as a high school guidance counsellor in a local high school.  At my new posting, my reputation preceded me.  Not only did many staff members know that I was a published author, I was also the only one in the school who had a graduate degree. That was then, and this is now.  Back then, I was the only Edison bulb lighting the building.  Nowadays, I am but another lambency among the dozens of 40 or 60-watt bulbs enlightening the minds of the students in the myriad of educational spaces of my employer.

Several years after that guidance counsellor assignment, I joined with some fellow staffers to form a ‘60s cover band, resulting again in another fifteen minutes of fame experience.  In my city every Christmas is the Annual Carol Festival at the Knox Metropolitan Church.  Choirs from all over, take their turn on the stage to put on a festive show that packs the house. In the very year we formed our band, Sharie and the Shades, we were asked to be the key performance for the festival.  (Sharie and the Shades was named for the music teacher in the high school of our employ, and adhering to our snappy band name, we all wore shades as we performed ‘60s rock ‘n’ roll, shades from the past, so to sing.) Of course, we jumped at the chance, hopped onto the stage, and performed as requested. We arrived and set up early, played an hour-long set for a front row of local dignitaries, the premier of the province, the mayor of the city, et al, and the entire hour-long performance was televised!  This performance had my bandmates and self brightly shining in the public light throughout the rest of the Christmas season.

My guitar and song-writing skills are adequate for every year to garner five paid gigs at a local bar, BUSHWAKKERS, and a few other charitable gigs every year at another bar, THE CURE. All these contract gigs follow the same format. I solicit other singer-songwriters from my guitar-slinging community, and we take turns on stage performing our original songs to audiences of regular imbibers, dipsomaniacs, and folk genre followers. Being the self-appointed host for all these shows, I amass consequential moments of fame whilst introducing tyro to virtuoso gig-mates.  Also, for the stage finale on all these shows, I close with my fifteen-minute set. (Such an action is not prompted by my vanity; rather, I am the closing performer on every show because I am the only person who is obligated to stay and sign-off at the end.)

Because I have been busking across the pond, in The Netherlands, in Ireland, and in Morocco, I fancy myself as being a planetary busker. Such a self-described nomenclature has offered me fifteen minutes of fame on many an occasion, especially in conversations among the guitar-slingers and buskers that I meet in those countries during my travels, and those I meet back at home after my travels.   

Exploring these same adventitious places, I, oftentimes bring out my pencil, which also effects many minutes of fame.

MY PAL'S POOCH

ANOTHER FRIEND, ANOTHER PET

Take, for example, these pooch portraits Fido and Rex and Lassie et al that I have drawn for friends just this past week.  For each of these drawings, from each of these family members who own these pets, upon my presenting the final product, I am pretty much guaranteed more than my usual fifteen minutes of pedestrian pet fame!

Of course, too, this blog that you are reading offers me fifteen minutes of fame time and time again. For example, not only is my blog continually rated as being among the top ten busking blogs, PSYCHOLOGY BUSKING A LA WORDSWORDS is listed at the top of the top ten!

FROM A GOOGLE SEARCH TODAY

And how about my QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH. My fifteen minutes of fame for my latest book, QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH, published just a couple of months ago, is already cooling. My publisher is nominating me for a book writer award in 2024, so that may heat up my social salability a degree or two, and if I happen to take home a prize, my books sales could explode!

AHOY, MATEYS! SHIVER ME TIMBERS! QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH IS A GOOD READ!

FACTOID:  If a million readers click on the margin to the right and purchase my book, I will make a million dollars!

But alas, dear reader, we should know that fame and fortune may not be so worthy of pursuit, especially if at the expense of personal health. My point, dear reader, is this. Chasing rainbows for pots of gold takes the same energy as chasing popular exercise regimens for optimum health.  To attain either, one cannot afford to be complacent. The fat of the former and skinny of the latter is this: ONE NEEDS TO KEEP MOVING.

Take heed to what I say, not to what I do. If I were to practice what I preach there would certainly not be a 38-year gap between book publications!

If I were to practice what I preach, every gig I give would be an Orphic experience for the audience, rather than just another folk-show facsimile of the one I gave previous. 

Also, if I were to practice what I preach, I would be more Promethean in every endeavor. I would be more innovative in my song writing, and I would be more rebellious in my personal fitness. Right now, in real time, I am working on both. I am attempting some punk strumming patterns for a couple of new songs I am writing, and I have just registered for a ski-instructor course this coming January 5^th, 6^th, and 7^th at MISSION RIDGE SKI RESORT, SK.

HANGIN' AT MISSION RIDGE SKI RESORT

FACTOID: My plan in three years (when I am 75 years old in 2026) is to be a full-time author and a certified ski-bum!

MERRY KRIS KRINGLE MAS, EVERYONE!

Here is my annual prototype XMAS CARD for 2023 in the making😊

 

WHAT KIND OF FOOL AM I?

 

QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH -- IT IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!

CHRISTMASTIME.  And QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH is the PERFECT STOCKING STUFFER for the adolescent science fiction aficionado.  Filled with sinister robots, gruesome beasts, and reprehensible humans, QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH has it all! QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH is futuristic tale of two brothers on their quest of survival, decapitating robots and fighting all sorts of creatures and beasts that go bump in the night along the way.

It is the year 2113 and a series of brightblasts has resulted in four remnant groups vying for survival: the robotia, the roktillia, the pterosauria, and the humanoids.

The robotia represent what is left of the mechanical world.  These robots have an incredibly high artificial intelligence and adhere to the codes of conduct as designed in their individual and collective programming.

The roktillia are a mutated blend of mammal and reptile, with unique traits to help them survive both on land and in water.

The pterosauria are large featherless creatures that have the ability to fly.

Most of the humanoids have established themselves in closed communities along the waterways, while other humanoids have become alienated and are ruthless hunters and scavengers.

Two young sailors, Kllay and Buzz, row an old wooden boat, The Snail, along a creek to the sea sanctuary of Black Beach.  Along with their companion, Westminster, a member of the robotia, the battle against hostile humanoids, roktillia, pterosauria, and other robotia on their quest to reach Black Beach and reunite with their family. 

TO ORDER:  GO TO TOP-RIGHT MARGIN OF THIS BLOG AND CLICK:)

I WAS A YOUNG BUSKER (MANY YEARS AGO)

In the meanwhile, back to busking. I shall explain my snappy title, which has a play on the word, “fool.”

FOOL, as a noun, is a silly person; whereas, FOOL, as a verb, is to trick or deceive.  In this blog title, I am referring to the kind of fool that fools or tricks or deceives people.  And this is exactly the kind of fool I have delivered with success more than a few times during my adult life to date.

During my teaching internship I was fool enough to be offered an actual teaching position – this was before I had completed my teaching degree! As a university student I was an English Literature major, training to be a high school English teacher.  But then I was offered an elementary school teaching position during my internship, and I jumped at the opportunity! Degreeless, I started teaching English, Art, and Physical Education to grades seven and eight.  Factoid: Physically, I had not been in an elementary school since adolescence. In that first teaching assignment, I was a fool indeed!

My teaching of English and Art classes was adequate, whereas, my Physical Education (PE) teaching was horrible.  Teaching PE I totally sucked.  My curriculum was limited to “Murder Ball” and “Hockey.”  Murder Ball was the grittier modified game of dodgeball we played in the school gymnasium -- the kids loved it!  And hockey was just hockey. There was an outdoor rink complete with a warming shack right next to the school.  During my PE classes, I would march the entire class over to the rink.  For those who could skate, we played shinny.  While those who could not skate either watched the game or sat in the shack.  Reflecting on this, I should have been fired.  But I was not.

Factoid: Instead, I was offered a position of full-time high school English teacher. Yet, I still did not have my teaching degree – I was a real fool for sure!

(As it happened, my employer paid for me to return to university for the following two summers to complete all the classes necessary for my degree and teaching certificate.  That same employer, later paid for all my graduate classes leading to my master’s degree, which in turn allowed me the opportunity to teach Psychology at the University of Regina for 23 years running!)

So too, I was the perfect fool when I began to guitar busk.  I began as a drummer and singer in a ‘60s cover band, Sharie and the Shades.  During my time with Sharie and the Shades I started learning to play guitar.  And here is that story.

A concert to showcase amateur and local talent just happened to be booked at the local high school of my employ.  I convinced one of my bandmates, Judy, another singer from Sharie and the Shades, to join me in song at this concert.  I practiced and practiced and practiced playing guitar for just this one song, Summer Wine.  Come the night of the concert, Judy and I covered the Nancy Sinatra – Lee Hazelwood rendition of Summer Wine for the audience of 400 people seated in front of us.  Little did anyone in the crowd know that Summer Wine was the only song I could strum!

That was a springtime concert.  Come summertime, my son, Baron, and I loaded our gear and headed to Victoria, British Columbia for my very first buskation.  While we were busking on the mean streets in Victoria, I was agog and the adequate fool, learning to strum and thrum a few other songs on my guitar.  Since then, I have filled my pockets of pelf from guitar and portrait busking throughout Western Canada and countries elsewhere, namely, The Netherlands and Ireland and Morocco!

And now I am a bona fide guitar and portrait street busker, of which this blog is the written proof.  Of course, I jape, but for sooth, this blog is most certainly drubbing the competition.  If anyone Googles to find the “top ten busking blogs,” this blog, PSYCHOLOGY BUSKING A LA WORDSWORDS is always atop the list! In this regard, I AM NOT A FOOL😊

*(And I shall be posthaste publishing this blog entry!)

JUST GOOGLED THIS A MOMENT AGO!