Tag: family

holidays

I try to be transparent in these posts – I really do – though I’m cognisant of the fact that; although I think or feel a certain way when I’m sitting at my computer with a coffee and a peaceful house around me, sometimes the follow-through of my namaste demeanor out in the real world is… let’s say… harder to spot in a crowd.

It’s that same contrast that allows us to identify that Christmas is the season of giving while simultaneously road-raging our way to-&-from the mall on a Saturday afternoon. So, in that way… It’s not even a thing I’m willing to apologize for… because we are a complex and messy race; we humans, and are worthy of a little grace and understanding.

But it’s in that very lack of apology that I must also allow people to be people… and generally speaking, people are panicky, stressed out, over-caffeinated, under-slept, hangry, and financially maxed out at the best of times, but December adds it’s own layer of chaos to the mix that tends to result in an additional element of ‘unpredictable.’

That’s fine.
All most people need is a little space, I think.
And a sandwich.

This phenomenon isn’t relegated to strangers. There’s a good chance that your friends and people in your family are behaving erratically as well – and after a recent observation, roughly 1/3 of people (an American statistic, but how different could Canada really be?) are estranged from their families or members thereof.

I think a lot of people are shocked when they hear a family member is estranged, but as someone who has put distance between myself and certain members of my family (in the past, for a good while) I can honestly say than any time I’ve heard that someone has chosen to do this, I’ve congratulated them on making an obviously very difficult decision to take care of themselves first. When an airplane loses cabin pressure and the oxygen masks drop, you are instructed to put your own mask on before assisting others, and don’t think this metaphor is out of place here.

There are also seasons to everything.
The end of my estrangement situation came with the death of a parent’s partner.

I guess what I’m taking the scenic route around to saying is that the holidays are just as hard as they are magical – and it’s okay for the holidays to be both hard and magical… so as we close in on the most hellacious part of the whole ordeal, I hope that whatever your Christmas or Christmas-adjacent plans might be, or where they might take you, that you find some peace, love, and hope.

I also hope; on a more personal level, that you choose to celebrate without harming any of our fellow earthlings – the ones who can’t speak up for themselves. Veganuary can start ANY TIME.

Happy whatever-you’re-into, everyone.

aging

I turn 43 this year.
Actually, I turn 43 this weekend.
Tomorrow.
Star Wars day.

43

Ultimately I’m good with it. I’m not in the shape I was in when I turned 40 and ran a triathlon, but I am on an upward swing in that regard. I’d love to spend more time in the pool and round out my tri-sport fantasies once again, but the advent of a fresh tattoo about 6 weeks ago, followed by another tattoo appointment this coming week keeps me on dry land. Submerging fresh tattoos is a good way to get an infection. But… That’s okay. Running and biking are filling my early mornings in the same way creative endeavours seem to fill my evenings.

43

I’m in the early stages of making another great record with The Confusionaires, I have a busy summer ahead of me with festival performances, long runs, sweaty bike rides, rock & roll recording sessions, and a couple of quick trips out of town with the family if fortune smiles down on us before the snow flies again. Summers are so fuckin’ short here.

43

When my daughter was born, and I was 26 years old, I recall doing the math and determining that I’d be 44 when she turns 18. That’s still true. It’s true every time I check, and the math gets easier each time… that’s a year from now, but it might as well be now. She’s grown up well, and smart, and strong. She has ambition that surpasses me at that age. I’ve very proud of her. She’ll be 17 this summer (obviously) and although she’s not done turning into the person she’s going to be, I can tell that person is going to be awesome. We got matching tattoos last month – an honour I share with no one else, and one I don’t take lightly.

43

I’m 43 tomorrow. Where does the time go? Well, I know where my 20s and early 30s went. Kinda. They’re hazy and were largely fuelled by intoxicants. Not sure how I lucked my way into finding my girlfriend. We’ve been together for 14 years or so. Like I said… hazy. She’s great, and has either joined me or guided me on several journeys that led both of us to places we’d never imagined… like veganism. She’s just begun a sabbatical of sorts, as she’s between vocations and has found herself with a month off before starting a new job. Having her around is pretty great. I think I’ll keep her for another 14 years.

43

I don’t know where this leads.
Wherever it’s supposed to, I guess.
But wherever that is, I hope they allow dogs.

flexibility

We all have these idyllic scenarios we run in our heads – at least I hope we do, or I am a weirdo – where we know just the right thing to say, or we have the answer to the problem that no one else sees, and we are proud… heroic, even. We rehearse what we’re going to say and we anticipate what the other person’s response will be, and it all goes so smoothly… and we win.

We do this in spite of the fact that it’s never actually gone the way we wanted it to, and ultimately nobody wins. We change nobody’s mind, and nobody changes our mind. We alienate people and risk coming across as assholes despite our best efforts to outwit the other person in the impending confrontation. Not only does our proposed scenario that we’ve rehearsed to death not play out as we thought it would, but the scenario has an ending, and real life has aftermath. For a real trip, try and have this confrontational visit with someone who’s completely fried their brain on designer chemicals and has little-to-no control over their emotions. It’s entitlement en masse, with a heavy dose of rage, and a penchant for blaming everyone around you for things you’ve done.

Perhaps maturity is realizing this in advance, or at least realizing it in the moment and showing some compassion.

The difference between schooling someone in a confrontational conversation, and being of service to their needs comes down to intention. Basically, do you want to wag your finger or do you want to help?

Me? I want to do neither… which is why being of service is such a massive personal sacrifice, and ultimately, why I keep droning on about it time after time.

This manifested itself in my life recently as looking after my niece in the event that her unhinged parent decided to cause a massive scene at my mother’s house. We deemed it best if my niece wasn’t there for that. Personally, I don’t think my mother should have been there for it either, but living in fear isn’t a thing we like to do, and my house is small.

The last thing I wanted to do was entertain a 10 year old. My entertaining-10-year-olds days are over, in my mind, but it was a need – not a want, and it was an act of service I was able to offer, regardless of the fact that I didn’t want to get in the middle of things any more than I already have in recent weeks.

But this wasn’t about me.
And it sure as shit wasn’t about my quiet evening at home, or the shitty sleep I got as a result of doing it.
But it was hard to let go of my quiet evening and my good night’s sleep.
It was hard to switch my brain back into 10-year-old mode.
It was hard not to step into the situation, lay out the facts as I saw them, and shut the bullshit down as I saw fit.
But I did those hard things.

I served.

service and change

I; or rather, we, have recently been invited to help a family member take on a rather lofty challenge. A change in lifestyle, if I may be so vague – and as someone who has undergone a few changes in lifestyle over the years I can say with great certainty that there is always a blast-radius, and that there are ALWAYS people in the blast-radius.

Those people are often bewildered at the notion that someone might want to improve their situation and they almost always take it personally. This is because change is happening to them, even though it’s peripherally, they really don’t have a choice in the matter any more than the drinking buddies of an alcoholic in recovery would have a say in his or her recovery – though their social dynamic is changing.

These folks in the blast-radius are; in my experience, almost always operating at a lower vibration. Without putting too fine a point on it, they are the crabs in the bucket who are trying to pull someone down in order to keep that person at their level. I’ve been at the lower level, and I know what it looks and feels like. I even tried to pull people down, until one day I decided to escape the bucket myself.

So… I; or rather, we, have been called to service – and you’d be hard-pressed to find an ideology that doesn’t support the notion of helping when called.
And… straight-up: helping suuuucks. It’s ultimately thankless, hard work on the part of all supporters, with none of the glory or accolades when it goes well… so if that’s why anyone’s helping, they’re more than likely standing in the way of progress, whether they’re cheerleading or not.

This situation is no different. There are bewildered people in the blast-radius of this scene, and as hurt as they might be, I have to declare aloud that my act of service is not to them. Furthermore, I cannot take on their hurt feelings as my own. Those feelings are theirs to reckon with… and if I sugar-coat things for them, or try and soften the blow, then I do a disservice to the person who’s actually asked for help. As the old non-vegan 😦 saying goes… “If you want to make an omelet, you’ve got to crack a couple eggs.”

Did I mention this suuuucks?

Without divulging too much, I’ll also state that the folks in the blast-radius have been taking advantage of the person who’s asked for help – and I’m related to all of these people – BUT, that doesn’t change the dynamic.

You might get asked for help.
People on the periphery might get upset about it.
You cannot let them distract your from your purpose – which; in that moment, is to fulfil an act of service.

For me; or rather, us, it’s a scene that will play out over a long period of time, so I expect I’ll get more than one blog post out of it, too.