Tag: realism

here we go again

We’re a couple days into 2026 now, and although I’ve done my level best to clean up my feed, there’s still so much negative posting about 2025… celebrity deaths being the main culprit, I suppose, as there’s been a bunch of those in the past little while.

I’ve got some real sour news for everyone. If you’re hanging your entire year on the prospect that no celebrities, filmmakers, or musicians you ever liked will die then you are setting yourself up for massive disappointment. Death is really the only thing we’re guaranteed in this life, as it’s the only thing that fate really owes any of us.

Of course, many of these are close to home, and it’s perfectly natural to be upset about the loss of people who shaped your childhood. I’m still upset about Harold Ramis, and nobody can take that away from me, BUT the people who enriched your life as you were growing up are much older than you, and they; too, are given a finite number of days to spend on this planet.

We’re lucky to be alive at the same time as any of them.

This year is going to have it’s ups and downs.
Some really great things are going to happen.
Some absolute shit things are going to happen, too.

How do you want to handle them?
I recommend grace and optimism.

I used to refer to myself as a realist, until one day I came to the conclusion that this “realistic” view of the world I was holding onto was inherently negative. I guess bad things happen… but good things happen just as often, sometimes more often.

I can’t honestly say that my life is worse now than it was a year ago… maybe you CAN say that, but we all have the power to improve things in our lives. It starts with wanting it, but you’re going to have to do some work to get there.

I wish you all the best this year.

just lucky

I’m aware of my privilege… more and more all the time. In the past few years I’ve managed to reach the age where this whole fragile and flawed system by which we live is set up for me to succeed – at least as much as is possible in the wake of unsustainable financial devastation left for us by our boomer ancestors.

I live in a nice little house in an up-&-coming area of town, I have a partner I scarcely deserve for a myriad of reasons, and a well-mannered and intelligent teenage kid who is turning into a very thoughtful and smart adult. I drive a good vehicle. I have a vintage hobby car and a stable full of excellent guitars. I write rock & roll songs and I record and perform them with some very talented musicians, and I get paid more handsomely than ever before to do that. Sure, I have a day job, but it’s a very good one, where I am treated well and have influence. I supervise some very cool people, and we make each other’s lives easier whenever possible. Things will continue to get better and better.

I guess this is optimism.

As this gets posted, I’m actually in the middle of a 3-day mini-tour of Southern Alberta. We played Calgary on Thursday, and Castle Mountain Ski Resort last night, and today we’re en route to Lethbridge before heading home on Sunday. We’ll be heading home with money in our pockets, and we’ll begin making a new record when we get there.

Once upon a time I fantasized about this life. A recent phone conversation with an old friend reminded me of that… which reminds me, I should call him again.

I’m truly grateful for what I have and where it’s going.
If everything halted in it’s tracks and this is exactly what my life was until I died, I would be content. This is what it is to be happy, I think. I once heard someone say “the only joy you find on the summit of Mount Everest is the joy you bring with you” and I believe this to be true.

To illustrate that point, I deal with a ton of bullshit every day at work, every time I turn around I feel like I’m handing someone else hundreds of dollars, my personal time is precious and fleeting at best. Corporations and family members alike are bleeding me dry and I don’t sleep enough. When something comes up, my early morning routine and my finely tuned diet are the first things to go, which results in me feeling fat and unhealthy during times when I need the opposite to be true. I spend too much time in hotel rooms. I work long hours…

… you get the picture. This is called realism.

Even so, I’m so aware of the great things happening in my life that none of those complaints hold any real weight. I realize this is a choice I’ve made. Happiness is a choice, and reminding ourselves of the positive perspective that we’re allowed to have is a choice.

Realism & Optimism. Why do we think about these words in contrast? Why is the ‘realistic’ view such a negative way of looking at things when the great things we have in our lives can easily be identified as ‘real’?

I don’t think we need to be all pollyanna about everything, necessarily, but the notion that ‘where your treasure is, your heart will also be‘ becomes a pretty strong statement when people constantly dwell on the negative. Our treasure is our focus – so if we focus on the darkness, we can expect our hearts to go dark as well. It’s for this reason that goal-oriented people tend to be magnetic and inspiring.

The time for hibernation and doom-scrolling will be over soon.
We’ll be able to go outside and feel the sun again.

what is real

“this is mainly to illustrate the point that we actually don’t know what’s real – not when there are still hundreds of millions of people who believe that Donald Trump won the 2020 presidential election and had it stolen from him”

A side effect of my lifestyle is that I spend a certain quotient of my time in hotel rooms, and I; like most people, am ultimately at the mercy of commercial-laden movie channels featuring 20+ year old films featuring the likes of George Clooney, Renee Zellweger, and Jim Carrey for a way to pass time between performances, meals, and whatever writing and work I can get done through the day.

Since commercials are usually a thing I can skip past, watching them has been a total trip, and I can’t help but notice a pattern. Be it cheap shampoo or frozen chicken wings, the recurring linguistic exchange seems to circle around the concept of what is real. It’s not hard to point out the fact that nothing is real, especially in commercials, from the captions that say ‘real people, not actors’ to the idea that the individual consumer than determine what is ‘the real thing’ vs the competitors alternatives. Proclamations of real taste, real feel, real sound, real look, and real smell coupled with the appeal to the consumer’s ego that they can differentiate what is real vs what is fake seem to be the perfect equation for successful sales.

Real coffee, real music, real pickup trucks… it’s truly dizzying.

The problem here is that what is real is not the point. The point is to drill the subliminal belief that you know what is real and that this subliminal implantation can be called upon when standing in the frozen foods section or… wherever.

This is what advertising is. By author and entrepreneur Seth Godin’s account, advertising is a company having the money to interrupt you so they can make enough money to interrupt you again.

Advertisers have rules they have to operate within, and that their slogans stay with you your entire life – so much so that the idea that ‘milk does a body good’ is still a strong belief that people have despite the fact that (a) milk does more harm than good and that’s a fact, (b) this is an advertising slogan, not a scientific study, (c) that the calcium you get from dairy can also come from spinach, whereas the spinach doesn’t carry the addictive and cancer causing components of dairy – but it does have fibre, which you need, (d) there are alternatives that are more flavorful and less pus-laden than animal-based dairy, and (e) the dairy industry has lobbyists, whereas the spinach industry doesn’t.

I could go on drilling this comparison into the ground, but this is mainly to illustrate the point that we actually don’t know what’s real – not when there are still hundreds of millions of people who believe that Donald Trump won the 2020 presidential election and had it stolen from him.

So then, what is real?

The spiritual connection I feel to my environment, my family, my dog are real. The sense of purpose I feel when I strap on a guitar and holler out into a dimly lit room full of people is real. Running through the river valley is real. The healing and nutritive properties of plant foods is real. Fellowship, and exchanging ideas is real.

I put forward that we need not worry about what is real so much as what makes us feel alive – What gives us purpose? What clears the cobwebs from our periphery and connects us to the universe?

If we can’t answer these questions, then maybe we’re a little too distracted by what products we can buy that are the most ‘real’ and we have changes to make.

You can change if you want to.
I mean, change is hard, but I argue that not changing is harder – especially once you find what makes you feel alive.

So… find that.

new realism

I recently had my mind blown open after following up on a book recommendation from a like-minded friend. The book is called “HumanKind” and it was written in Dutch by Rutger Bregman, who; after watching a few interviews, I’ve determined is the real deal.

I don’t often furnish myself with the time to sit and read, so audiobooks tend to be my preferred medium, but in any format this particular book challenges the idea of ‘realism’ or ‘being a realist’ – a label I’ve donned myself with many times in my life, by calling what it really is – fatalism. His book pokes holes in ‘veneer theory’ and the prison system, various social structures and regimes, and provides a balanced look at the world we live in now; which it may be surprising to learn, is one of the most peaceful and friendly periods of our short history on this planet we’ve ever known.

The true ‘realism’ is that things are ultimately good, or at least more good than bad, and that the realistic outlook is bleak more often than not. A realistic viewpoint after accounting for the statistics, is pretty optimistic.

In truth, both statistically and as a personal observation, it’s not hard to see that of the several billion cohabitants of this planet, the vast majority of us are doing our best to be the best versions of ourselves we can be, and that we are not inherently selfish or self-sabotaging so much as we are naturally social and communal in our day to day lives – and the broadcast news and viral editorial columns that are designed to grab our attention are actually the exception, not the rule. That’s what makes them interesting. Though as someone who’s spent some time mainlining cable news through the majority of the COVID-19 pandemic, I can see very plainly how someone might get the idea that the whole world is like that, when it’s really not.

The thought that’s forefront in my brain today is the idea that when an onlooker sees someone doing something good; giving money to a panhandler for example, that it would be easy to denigrate them by saying they were giving for selfish reasons. However, numerous studies have been done on such things, the results of which are irrelevant because in the end: doing good things feels good. Of course there’s ‘something in it’ for the one giving, just as there is for the recipient and to cheapen the experience by being critical of the deed, or even just the time & place of the deed, is counterproductive, and ultimately anti-human.

If every time you held the door for someone at the mall, you felt some abdominal pain or dizziness, it wouldn’t take long before the world became a much darker and less welcoming place than it is.

So why question the motivation if the result is good? I’m not saying we should be broadcasting and virtue signaling with our good deeds all over social media, but we should not hesitate to engage in the human experience, which includes acts of service, community, and love.

Training this week has been good – it’s been nice to get back at it in a serious way. At this point; for me, I am not interested in any wasted effort. When I got to the gym, I’m there for a solid 90 minutes (or more, on occasion) and the goal is complete decimation of the muscles. I leave there with nothing left in the tank as a general rule, and I’ve found it to be infinitely rewarding.

Monday and Friday were both a 45 minute ride and a 45 minute weight workout. Thursday was 45 minutes on the bike and a 25 minute run. I had slightly less time than anticipated but I still got my thing done, and Saturday‘s brick was a 60 minute ride and a 15 minute run. Tuesday has become an at-home floor/core workout that really doesn’t take much time, but I often don’t get to that muscle group on any of the other days, so Tuesday becomes an overflow day.

It sounds great to say you ‘left nothing in the tank’ after a workout, but it’s another thing to really do it. In a few short months we’ll be back outside – but until then, this is what we’re doing and we’re loving the effort.