We are always in the minority

A small confession: when I was a young adult, I was under the illusion that what I believed and how I acted was somehow innovative, original or unique. The truth? My actions and beliefs were entirely influenced by others. There was virtually nothing that I did or thought that differed substantially from any other young man in similar circumstances. Humbling as it may be to admit, I was just another proponent of the go with the flow mentality.

But how to explain that, even while I claimed to be original, I would follow others blindly? Clearly on the surface I needed to believe that I was special as a way to bolster my confidence, but to explain my vulnerability to the influence of others, I can point to one basic assumption. I was operating under the assumption that others knew better and that they were part of some magical, enlightened majority.

I assumed I could trust others because they had already figured things out and made the right choices. In my mind was a fantastical world populated by a few individuals who stumbled and struggled while the enlightened majority waited for these individuals to “wise up.”

Thankfully I have made progress in my understanding of how things really work. And here is the unsettling thing that I have discovered: an enlightened majority does not exist anywhere. Period. Short of agreeing on a few laws of science such as the law of gravity or nature abhorring a vacuum, etc. most people on planet earth do not agree on anything. Our vast world is filled with multiple views on every single topic.

While I used to take comfort in “being right” because I belonged to the “right group,” I now believe that I am entirely responsible for what I believe and how I act. I also believe that any group I can formally belong to is a minority on our planet. There is no political party, religious perspective or social code that is accepted by a majority of the world’s population. Anything and everything I can belong to or support comprises a relatively small group of people.

This truth has several ramifications for my life.

First, I have to be cautious with my allegiances and beliefs because no matter what I support, a number of people will disagree with me. And there is always the real possibility that their perspective may be right and mine wrong.

Second, there is even the possibility that at any one time, all people on the planet could be wrong about something. Science relies on this notion. Good science allows for the discarding of one universal theory in favour of another that holds greater merit because there is greater empirical evidence to support it. Real science holds no sacred dogmas because it is built on the idea that every conclusion is subject to change.

And the third ramification is perhaps the most important. The idea that I am always in the minority reminds me that to be human means to live without any degree of certainty about anything.

It’s actually worse than that. It reminds me that I am virtually alone in whatever I decide or believe.

This is tough to accept. Sometimes I really miss the old days of feeling sure about something. Life was easier when it was lived under that illusion.

Years ago I read on the front cover of the Daily Courier that each individual in this life has two basic responsibilities: to believe for himself and to die alone.

I am in no rush to experience the second responsibility, but I have finally accepted the first.

What I believe now is strictly my choice. But I have to allow that I could be plain wrong.

Embrace your obscurity

“And yet I wish but for the thing I have” Juliet from Romeo and Juliet, (Act 2.ii.L.138)

After toiling for years in oppressive anonymity, the artists who break through to enormous success have some surprising advice for the rest of us. Their message? Embrace and value your obscurity.

Apparently, when fame and fortune strike, artists are wrenched from their daily practice and pressed unceremoniously into the service of the marketplace. This new master has no time for experimentation or whimsical journeys. The goal now is to produce predictable, familiar work. Because the starving artist has “finally made it,” he is all too willing to leave his MO behind. But paradoxically, the very moment where his work —now buoyed by wide support— receives a new breath of life, is also the moment where it begins to die a little.

Whom is your art work for? Years of working alone with sporadic encouragement suggest that, primarily, the work you do is done to please yourself. Were it not for the “unpleasant need” to earn a living you would likely be entirely satisfied to work at the thing that gives you such pleasure and fulfillment for the rest of your days.

The current wisdom from successful artists is to embrace your obscurity while you still have it. Obscurity affords you time to think, time to fail, and time to learn. Anonymity allows you the freedom to be spontaneous and even frivolous. Artistically, it is the most fertile of grounds that you can experience because it allows you to consider infinite possibilities.

Obscurity can also be the most enjoyable of states.

Chances are you never feel more fulfilled by your art than when you are wholly alone with it. Here you discover a delicious intimacy. When you go to your piano, sewing machine or sketch pad free of expectations and commercial pressure, you are able to truly witness what magic may take place.*

From a very young age we are taught to desire recognition and its accompanying wealth. We want the blessing of others to validate our work and we ask that they count us among the artists who are deemed successful and unique. But no amount of money or popularity can take the place of what truly fuels our passion.

This is crazy! Don’t we and our family members still have to eat?

Sure. But perhaps Oscar Wilde captures our conflict best with his famous epigram: “Worse than not getting what you want is getting what you want.”

*Artists confess that, at some point, the work itself begins to guide you as to where you need to go. Here the artist is channeling a higher power. A painting will direct you to use an unexpected combination of colours. A character that you planned to kill off in your book will plead for his life so earnestly that you have to spare him for several more chapters. What a delightful, blissful feeling it is to commune so deeply with your work!

I miss a good bush party

Some of the best times I had in high school occurred when I attended the classic event known generically as the “bush party.” What could be better that to be outdoors with your friends, sitting around a campfire enjoying a drink or a smoke and feeling deliciously independent and utterly powerful? I think I only attended about 4 of these parties in all, but their impact on me continues to this day. Bush parties made me feel like I belonged in the universe. They confirmed that my generation was important. They taught me that I mattered.

Bush parties were the best. You would come home with your clothes (or someone else’s) covered in dust and smoke. There could be burn marks on your hat or your shoes from sitting too close to the fire. A confusing smell of hot dogs and marsh mellows, marijuana and alcohol would waft in with you as you walked into your house. “Where the hell have you been?” would be mom’s or dad’s greeting at the front door. “And where are your clothes?”

But none of that mattered. Your parents eventually understood your need to stay out all night with your friends. You had important business to discuss. The world required your attention.

I can’t tell you how many of the world’s deep-seated problems were solved at bush parties. Somehow, in the half light of a crackling fire, the truth was crystal clear and no problem seemed too great or impossible to overcome.

And what of the random fits of giggles and spontaneous laughter? Perhaps for some the laughter resulted from intoxicating substances, but I remember much of the laughter resulting from something more innocent and wholly uncontrived. There we were sitting in the dark, under blankets, in the cold. It was like squatting in your first tree house or crouching in the fort you built with the pillows of your parents’ sofa.

Sometimes there was someone who played guitar and would lead us in song. Again, it was a magical experience. Perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling good —a large group of us singing in bold unison and terribly off key.

There is the temptation to re-create the bush party and reclaim some of those early experiences but it can’t be done. The things you first celebrated when you were young are now inaccessible. The emotions that we felt for the first time have become familiar and predictable. Even on a strictly physical level, the bush party would just be too uncomfortable today. Cramps would wreck your campfire. The dust would choke your lungs. The fear of catching pneumonia would ruin the adventure that it is to brave the cold with your friends.

Because to attend a bush party would leave you exhausted and unproductive for the next day, there was a cost to being social in this way. But in my experience, what was gained at a bush party far outweighed the negatives. Bush parties made it fun to be alive.

The atheist as a spiritual guide

In 1667, John Milton published his famous epic poem, Paradise Lost. Milton wanted his masterpiece to convince others about the loving mercy of God. To Milton’s horror and to the surprise of even today’s scholars, however, the most interesting character in the poem is neither God the Father nor Jesus himself. Ironically, the most enduring and memorable character in the poem turns out to be Satan.

In Paradise Lost, God comes across as a cold, inflexible tyrant who bullies others with His infinite power. Satan takes on the role of a victim who deserves another chance. We sympathize with him because he fights onward despite the fact that he cannot succeed. Satan’s “delusional optimism” strikes us as something very human.

On the surface we are baffled as to why we should find more interesting the characters in fiction and real life who have questionable morals and who stand up to authority. But upon a closer look there is a great reason for doing so.

The list of anti-heroes that we secretly admire is long. The stories of dictators, gangsters, murderers and drug lords make up the content of the movies that we watch. When O.J. Simpson led 10 police cars on a wild goose chase down a California freeway, we were shocked by his audacity and we watched in awe. Against all odds, “the Juice” was making yet another improbable run for the “end zone.” Apparently, girls find “bad boys” attractive because they exude confidence and flair. Delinquents, the girls explain, offer them a kind of permission to act in the same way. Even modern “pirate types” like Johnny Depp or Keith Richards —who follow a bizarre, personal code of ethics— continue to hold wide appeal.

We respect people who act in accordance with their beliefs in spite of the consequences they face. And we hold in high regard anyone who is willing to die for their beliefs. This is because what we really admire —and wish we had more of— is personal courage.

In life, many express a faith that seems largely theoretical and is often self-serving. Do Christians actually believe in the hereafter or have they signed up for “fire insurance?” Do Buddhist monks live in cloisters to pursue a disciplined, spiritual life or are they really just hiding from the challenges and temptations of the world? Would many who profess a devotion to Christ actually welcome him in their house, were he around today? Would he not, rather, be deemed too dangerous and of questionable character by most “worshippers?” And in general, do the people on the planet who profess religious views have the actual cajones to live them out?

This is where an atheist may have something to offer those who seek the spiritual life. It takes courage to live out your convictions. And it takes courage to face the consequences for doing so.

The rational atheist is neither ignorant nor arrogant. She has searched and found no conclusive evidence for the presence of an absolute power. Stripped of the myriad of ulterior motives that can accompany all spiritual “acts” and religious ritual, she faces her uncertainty and death with honesty and dignity.

In this simple way, she is an example for many to follow.

Is life a car wash?

Some time ago I was walking in my neighbourhood and it dawned on me that in many respects my life has been very much like the experience of going through a car wash. You remember the old, automated car washes that we used to drive through? Let me explain what I mean.

Today’s car washes are sophisticated affairs. Virtually nothing actually touches your vehicle while you drive through. The older versions, however, were more “interactive” in a sense.

I remember waiting for the conveyor belt mechanism to attach to the front tire and then jerk my car forward into the washing booth. Once inside the booth, there would be another pause while lights and machines switched on. At that point I wondered if my car was suddenly stuck and could not move forward. Then the water jets turned on to remove the larger debris from the car. Then followed a violent push forward and brush arms loaded with soap lowered onto the sides, roof and hood of my vehicle. The violent motion of these brushes shook the car. Would my antenna be ripped right off the hood? Then followed the loudness of the water jets as they rinsed the soap from the car. Would the windshield hold or would it shatter and allow the water to flood the car’s interior? As the car moved forward, the drying blowers took over with an even greater, deafening loudness. Finally the wax buffing brushes worked the body of the car. Sometimes they looked damaged and I feared that they would scratch the car’s paint job. Last, I worried about not being pushed out of the booth in time before the vehicle behind me started to move. It was always a relief to emerge from the car wash intact and unscathed. The ordeal was finally over!*

The stages of life that we go through are not unlike the stages of a classic car wash. While we watch with a kind of helplessness, people and events work to shape our lives from the outside in. At any stage of our development, our experiences are all engrossing and we can focus on little else. In time, one stage of our education morphs into the next, but it is rarely a gentle transition. Often we are jerked forward violently into the next phase of learning. And because we do not know the number of stages we are supposed to experience, there is always fear and apprehension.

When will it end? Is there a time when we can say that the process is complete?

When you are young you are expected to be a cooperative, passive learner. Your morals, opinions, beliefs and behaviours are shaped by parents, institutions and peers. At first everything is applied “externally.” You have no frame of reference by which to compare and analyze situations and events carefully. You collect experiences and traumas but do not know how to interpret them. The social mores and beliefs that guide you are largely dictated to you so that you fit into society without complaining. You long for a time to just stop and reflect on things but you feel helpless —everything just moves too quickly.

Eventually you reach a point where you have the power to stop the process. You take time out to take stock of your life and make sense of things. Now you are a mature adult and you are not afraid to revisit experiences and reflect on relationships.

And when you do reflect on things, you are likely to find that, while on the outside you are a “clean, shiny vehicle,” —an upstanding member of your community— there is crud on the inside that has been with you from the first. Crud that was never acknowledged and left undisturbed.

To stretch the car wash metaphor even further, it is time to stop and “vacuum the inside.” It’s time to remove the things that are not you —the things you adopted only to please someone else.

Once the outside has been washed and once the inside has been vacuumed, you are “truly clean” and transformed into your true, authentic self. Now it’s time to hit the open road!

P.S. Sorry if this seems really far-fetched and no, I do not take drugs……..

*I don’t remember the film, but I think there is a scene where comedian Jim Carrey goes through an old style car wash in a convertible. His passenger is justifiably horrified and traumatized by the experience!

The blessing of resets

In this imperfect world filled with frustration, nothing is more important than the ability to reset and try again. In life we fail often, but almost always there are more chances to turn our failures into tangible successes. The opportunities that help us to attain our goals are an indescribable gift.

In every circumstance, there are many kinds of resets available to us. If you are tired you can recharge with sleep. If you are hungry you can refuel. If you have trouble during the first portion of the day you can reset and finish the day on a different note. If you have an off day there is always the next day to try something different. If you have trouble during a week then a new week will follow. If a month is especially difficult, there is always another one on the way. Years filled with conflict can give way to a time of peace.

If I had to explain how life seems to work, I would use the game of hockey as a central metaphor. The players are assigned to lines and throughout the game, each line takes a turn on the ice before coming to the bench to rest. After the full rotation of lines is over, a new rotation starts and each line gets a new turn to make a difference in the game. While the outcome of the game is never guaranteed, each player gets many turns to try and influence the result. Bad shifts are replaced by better shifts. Eventually bad games are replaced by better games. Even disastrous seasons eventually give way to triumphant ones.

When I have an off day I am grateful for the opportunity to try again the next day.

When I was young I did not appreciate the miraculous beauty of this. I wanted to avoid failure because it hurt too much to fail.

But failure is only powerful if we believe that we have run out of chances to make things right. With my awareness that I can reset in virtually any situation, I can accept failure because I see that it is temporary. The next day I can try again and experience a different outcome.

The power of a reset is incalculable. When you are aware of it, your failures vanish into yesterday and you can take up any challenge with a renewed vigor and joy. There is courage to try new things and a healthy detachment when things do not go immediately as planned.

Everything we do can be done only in stages. Most things are seldom accomplished in one try. Effort often leads to failure but after each failure there is an opportunity to reset. This is indeed a blessing!

During this time when we are struggling against the Covid virus, many of us are experiencing havoc and upheaval. For all of us, the ability to reset is literally our salvation.

The magic of no expectations

When I was teenager in high school I stumbled upon a disturbing phenomenon. The times I would attend a party with absolutely zero expectations would be the times I had the most fun. Conversely, when I expected great entertainment and worked hard to control the outcome, I would always come up empty.

My life followed pretty much in the same vein. Relationships flourished when I refused to control them and events took a pleasant course when I remembered to let them do that.

The common wisdom is to live life without expectations. Expectations lead to disappointment and pain. However, what is less clear is how one is supposed to do that. It is challenging to engage in anything without having some thought about the possible outcome.

Take dating, for example. When you are single you are supposed to go out with several people and just enjoy yourself. If you have the good fortune of meeting someone you find attractive and interesting, you hope to go out with that person again. Before you know it, you begin to plan something more long term.

It’s the same with taking on a dream job or project. At first you are just happy to be involved, but very quickly you wonder how you can influence things in your favour.

For the longest time, I thought that this “expectation obsession” was a personal problem. I found it impossible just to enjoy myself and let things be. I chided myself for being weak and undisciplined in my thinking.

Eventually it dawned on me that the problem is universal. The tendency to have expectations is a human trait. All of us struggle to let go and allow life to lead us. We want to take the steering wheel and control people and events. Perhaps it’s a nod to our ancestral need to ensure our survival.

The remedy for this dilemma?

There is none, really. But in time I did discover another phenomenon. I realized that when I was preoccupied with some task at hand or was distracted by something meaningful, I could experience other parts of life without expectations. The antidote to my having expectations was to focus on one thing at a time.

Life can do wonders for us when we are distracted.* As the decades passed I managed to have a wonderful teaching career, find the woman of my dreams and have the perfect son —among many other fabulous experiences. Most of the blessings in my life blindsided me because I was preoccupied at the time. The best things in my life happened precisely when I was not expecting them.

We should avoid dwelling on the outcome of things but this is impossible to do. Our best strategy is to be preoccupied and distracted enough so as to let things run their course. We are happier when we approach everyone and everything without expectations.

*Meditation is a form of focused distraction. It frees us to live life without any strings attached.

Some odds and ends

Today I have a grab bag of thoughts and observations. I hope there is something here that can resonate with you.

Recently I found out about an interesting character from Greek mythology whose name is Procrustes. He is best known for hosting guests in a bed that was literally “one size fits all.” This was possible because Procrustes would cut off the legs of tall people so that they could fit the bed. He stretched short people with his hammer (he was a smith) so as to make them fit, too. What a perfect metaphor for the way we all tend to think! Unhappy with what we observe or discover, we “trim it” or expand it so that it fits our neatly held theory about life.

I taught high school English for 26 years and during that time I encountered some funny situations. One of them was when I was standing in the classroom, in front of a row of desks. A student sat in the second desk in the same row, with his feet up on the back of the chair of the first desk. Unwittingly, while I was talking to the class, he let his legs go and pushed the first desk in the row forward, right into my groin area. It did not hurt but the class gasped in horror. I simply stopped my lecture and pointed out that now “I would have to adopt if I wanted kids of my own….”

Another situation occurred in the classroom while we were studying a short story with a romantic couple in it. As we discussed the couple’s motivation, I deliberately asked the kids to imagine their grandparents making out in the back seat of a car. You could hear a pin drop in the classroom. And the look of nausea and total abhorrence on the students’ faces was absolutely unforgettable. What fun to mess with the kids!

Our culture decrees that we learn to act in an acceptable manner. From the outside in, we are coerced to believe and act in a specific way. Eventually, our parents hope, we internalize the standard and we act out the prescribed behaviours naturally. As philosopher Alan Watts points out, we are all “genuine fakes.” But as we get older, we long to be authentic and begin to strip away everything that is not really us. For many of us this process only stops when we go to the grave.

How long would it take for us to become superstitious? Most of us claim freedom from such a world view but how many bad things would need to happen in our lives before we changed our minds? And what if a number of good things happened to us in rapid succession? If in one day we met the love of our lives, got a dream job and won a lottery, would we be tempted to credit some previously unacknowledged entity for our good fortune?

Humans have long envied the freedom from responsibility that the animals around us seem to enjoy. In particular, birds who can soar in the sky appear to have total freedom from the cares that weigh us down. Our developed consciousness is to blame, apparently. We see and think and feel more than the animals do. But there is a price for it: we spend much of our lives learning just to be. Animals cover that lesson in the first few minutes of life.

Many people confuse the concept of irony and coincidence. Irony can be defined as something occurring that is the opposite of what was expected. Coincidence can be described as the simultaneous occurrence of events that are connected in some way. It is ironic to win a lottery if the expectation was that it would never happen. But it is mere coincidence that I happen to enjoy ice cream in my sixties more than I ever did when I was a child.

And finally, it is really true. Wisdom accompanies those whose lives are checkered with all kinds of failures. Embracing failure because it imparts wisdom is, therefore, the intelligent thing to do. It’s just that our egos are wired for a different experience.

Success is still a 4 letter word

From what I can gather, to succeed is not a complicated thing. You don’t need superior intelligence, uncommon charm or extra-terrestrial skill. Success relies on something that all of us can do.

The key to financial success:

Work at something that you have a passion for, long enough to become skilled at it.

Market it to others who have a similar passion.

Become part of a community that appreciates and supports your work.

That’s it.

The key to personal fitness:

Choose a plan that will work for your needs.

Work at your plan on a regular basis.

Be part of a community of like-minded enthusiasts who will encourage and support your efforts.

That’s it.

I could go on at length about any number of meaningful ventures. Once you have a plan in motion, the results are virtually automatic. They appear as expected.

Why all the struggle, then? Why are few of us as successful as we would like to be?

The catch seems to be the issue of perseverance. Perseverance in the face of doubt. Perseverance in the face of criticism. Perseverance in the face of failure.

When I see a man who is cut, I am more impressed by his ability to handle tedious exercises on a daily basis than I am about his actual biceps. How did he go to the gym all that time without slipping out and ordering a Big Mac, just out of sheer boredom? And where did he get the patience to wait for his occasional injuries to heal?

And what of the billionairess with untold power and influence? Again, I am more impressed by her devotion to a business plan than I am about her properties and fancy jewels.

Like everyone else, I have a tried several ventures only to retreat in disappointment. Excuses and distractions emerge from unexpected places in order to derail our best intentions.

But if you are among the lucky ones who can sustain effort in any one direction, you are sure to succeed.

Work is the answer to self doubt. The “imposter syndrome” vanishes when you work at something with regularity. Your work will yield results that are sure to silence your critics, too. Continued work will propel you past failures and setbacks.

My father was right. Work has a healing property. Work helps us identify the purpose in our lives. Whatever we desire, our willingness to work for it guarantees our success.

The religion of science

“It is the uncertainty that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful.” —Oscar Wilde

Many years ago, while attending university in Vancouver, I took in a lecture by a renowned researcher and was struck by a curious fact. The man on the stage described several archeological time periods with precision and certainty. He referenced events millions of years in the past as if he had witnessed them himself. On the previous day, I had attended a church service on campus in which the pastor discussed the origins of life. Here the pastor also spoke with confidence. As she explained why God needed 7 days to form the earth and the life upon it, her eyes lit up and her voice took the familiar tone we normally use to describe a car accident.

This was odd. Both leaders appeared certain of the content of their presentation. Even more absurd, both presentations sounded near identical. That one was scientific and the other religious did not seem to make a difference. Both presentations asked audience members to suspend their disbelief.

There is a common tendency in western society for us to dismiss religious belief systems as fare for the sentimental and the intellectually-challenged, but what about the claims made by the “religion” of science? Has it not also taken a mythical importance in our lives? Does it not also offer refuge from eternal destruction?

Have you noticed the smug, holier-than-thou attitude among us because of science’s most beloved offspring, Technology? We happily speed along in metal and plastic bubbles called cars. On a whim we speak across continents with our cell phones. And we do a myriad of other things with devices whose function most of us are unable to explain.

Technology has made us bold. No, technology has made us arrogant.

We who live in the first world believe that science eventually will uncover all things. Perhaps we should not be so confident. From what I can see, science moves us forward only in haphazard, frustrating fashion. For every answer it provides, there are perplexing questions and unsolvable dilemmas that follow.

We get fast modes of transportation but these cause vast, environmental damage. We invent a multitude of gadgets so as to make ourselves more comfortable but we have become soft and sickly. Our devices and platforms allow us to live parallel lives simultaneously but only at great cost to our nervous systems and mental health.

Technology had made some of us wealthier than kings, but science is a cold god. There is something deflating about knowing that in a matter of time all will be discovered and understood. What will we do then? How will we entertain ourselves if not by engaging in daily discoveries?

I do not reject science entirely. Like you, I also enjoy the comforts of innovation and the advantages of progress. But I refuse to worship science as the source of my salvation. Life is more enjoyable when it remains mysterious and a tad impenetrable. It is essential that my god stay invisible.

Thankfully, some scientific discoveries only reinforce the idea that life will always be magical and just beyond our ability to understand. Physicists call the smallest units of the atom quarks. Apparently, when these units are examined they turn out to be made up of…nothing! * The smallest units of the atoms that hold matter together are made up of nothing substantial. Food for meditative thought.

Like Oscar Wilde, I prefer a mist. I reject the superstition that accompanies many of the established faiths, but I’m not a fan of mere information, cold facts and raw data. And in any case, science will always be a poor deity because it is in perpetual flux and subject to constant revision.

*It is interesting that in eastern religions, reality is often called Maya, a word which means illusion. Both science and some religions suggest that what we refer to as reality might actually comprise nothing at all.

Can you keep your dogmas on a leash?

I can be an impartial conversationalist, a witty storyteller and an empathic, generous listener when necessary. I can observe and comment with dispassionate precision, insight and humour. I can weigh multiple points of view. I can celebrate someone else’s success. In rare moments, my philosophy of inclusion can even inspire others to act the same.

Hope you kept a straight face when reading these lines. If my self-description rankles you, it’s probably because you might know me and remember the many times when I was biased and inflexible. A charm to be with, I was not.

But don’t hundreds of interactions I’ve had with other earthlings confirm that I am tolerant and accepting?

The problem is that it’s not the whole picture of who I am. When by myself, I collect opinions, judgments and self-righteous stances faster than cans and pop bottles. My mental desk brims with observations, pronouncements and advice for others. With utter abandon I classify, catalogue and pigeonhole everyone around me. All manner of items —large and small— clamor for my attention and eventual “stamp of disapproval.”

Can anything stop me from this destructive and morally wrong behaviour?

Nope. The only consolation is to realize that we all seem to share this insidious flaw.

No one likes an opinionated, dogmatic person but it turns out that everyone you meet is dogmatic and opinionated on some level. That’s everyone. Your friend the university prof, the Bohemian couple next door —even your sweet, civil rights-loving grandma.

I submit to you that the agreeable folks in our midst only appear to be tolerant and open-minded, and this for a short time. In their heart of hearts, they too struggle with premature judgments and narrow-minded principles. When they feel threatened, they come out fighting with homespun absolutes and ludicrous theories of what is right and wrong —just like you and I do.

How to explain this human behaviour? Perhaps it’s both a collective and individual insecurity that fuels our asinine positions. Or perhaps it’s the predictable result of how our brain functions. In order to survive we have to constantly think and act; we have to evaluate and choose the proper course of action. Because there is always a “better mousetrap” to be discovered, and some of us discover it before others, it is just a matter of time before we “set ourselves up” as part- time bigots in our community.

But although each one of us is not actually the person we seem to be, this is not to say that we can’t act honourably from time to time. And to act in the right way does still contribute to a positive, inclusive climate for everyone.

I cannot, therefore, condemn others for being more hypocritical than me. My dogmas and prejudices are never far away. They are my faithful companions, like oxygen and light.

To imagine that we are open-minded is one of the most precious fallacies that we hold dear. We see ourselves as tolerant and accepting while we assume others are rigid and stubborn.

But we are all rigid and stubborn and to be otherwise is a daily, sophisticated challenge. The open- mindedness and tolerance that we long to incarnate is really just the stuff of romanticized stories and movies. Down here on planet earth, flaws, biases and limitations make up the bulk of what we are about.

Believe and accept what you see

In the tradition of philosophy, the biggest difference between men and animals is that men have the ability to reason. Animals behave instinctively while human beings rationalize. A larger brain and the tendency to deliberate before choosing a course of action give human beings an enormous advantage over their fellow creatures.

But it turns out that humans are only rational once in a while. They can agree on empirical data when they are detached from it. They accept facts only when their emotions are in check.

When something or someone evokes passion human reason gives way to bias and prejudice in record time. Human beings are incapable of being reasonable whenever it counts the most.

In matters of religion, politics and love, human beings have always behaved irrationally. Here history shows that many individuals have taken advantage of others just because they can.

Consider the hundreds of people throughout history that have claimed to be divine. How many millions have followed them, despite the lack of objective evidence? I marvel at Japan’s Emperor Hirohito who in 1947, after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Americans, went on national radio to admit that he wasn’t a god after all. It took nuclear warheads for the Japanese to accept the obvious.

Consider too the thousands of political leaders on our planet who continue to lead others astray. Promises of a high standard of living, progress and enlightenment —even glory— invariably lead to bloodshed and destruction. Yet people follow blindly because they see virtue where none actually exists.

Perhaps our greatest delusions are the ones reserved for love and romance. Here millions suffer because they do not —cannot— accept the truth about someone else. A lover continues to accept an abusive partner because she is convinced he will soon change. Another believes that someone still has feelings for him in spite of her repeated claims to the contrary.

Why can’t we accept facts just as they are?

People show us who they really are by their language and behaviour. When they do, we should believe them. Period. We should not ascribe to them qualities and virtues that have not been duly demonstrated.

It should be that simple.

Unfortunately, human beings are generally poor scientists. For most of us, raw data holds little significance. We like it that everything and everyone can be repeatedly held up for interpretation. We pride ourselves in knowing better and seeing further than our less intelligent peers.

Inexplicably, and at great personal cost, we willingly abandon our ability to reason in favour of the unlikely and the fantastical. I wonder if the animals take note and laugh at us.

We are on an adventure!

Central to the meaning of the word adventure are the concepts of risk and uncertainty. An adventure is enjoyable precisely because its path is precarious and its outcome is uncertain.

Because life is tumultuous and unpredictable, some people see it as the ultimate adventure. Life has twists and turns. There are surprises, thrills and disappointments. Life is unusual, exciting and hazardous.

Unhappy people struggle with risks. They long for certainty so as to keep worry and suffering at bay. Even when they emerge victorious over a difficult challenge, they are unable to celebrate. Their eye is on the next problem, the next dilemma. For them life is cold, cruel and unforgiving. The wonder that it is to be alive does not justify the pain they encounter.

In contrast, happy people accept that life is full of risks whose outcomes are beyond their control. They don’t struggle with the struggle. They see it as part of a curious game. They understand the uniqueness of their situation: inexplicably, they have been invited to participate in a glorious expedition. A trip they did not request or volunteer for.

Is life a treadmill of cruel suffering or something more? What to make of life’s beautiful surprises? A chance to create, to dance, to love?

The evidence suggests that we are indeed involved in a personal and collective adventure. We have all been called to embark on a wondrous, mysterious journey.

Note how your your spirit rises at the mere thought of this. See how re-framing your experiences into the context of an adventure alters your mood immediately. To really deal with life’s problems, perhaps all we need to do is change our perspective.

Consider the facts. We do not know where we came from other than to know that a biological process has ushered us forth. We do not know where we are going other than to know that death is the predictable end point for our lives.

We do not know where we are other than to surmise that we are on a spinning rock tilted unpredictably at 6 degrees towards the sun —allowing us just enough light and radiation to live on this planet.

Our knowledge of planet earth is incomplete. Experts tell us that we know more about our solar system than we do about our oceans.

When we peer into outer space, the evidence suggests that we are wholly insignificant. Our place in the universe seems to have resulted from random selection. Yet here we are, just the same.

Who the hell are we?

Further, when we consider the multitude of curious facts all around us, an undeniable truth emerges forcefully: all is in a state of flux. Our bodies, our planet, our perceptions, our experiences —all are constantly changing, leaving us bewildered and perplexed.

I admire individuals who embrace the mystery and uncertainty that we face. They love the puzzle that life appears to be. Like kids opening presents on Christmas morning, they are engaged in enthusiastic, daily discovery. Their days are busy tabulating, measuring and cataloguing data. They love to hunt for clues. Their search for meaning and understanding gives them a clear purpose.

I do not mean to make light of anyone’s suffering by telling them to shrug it all off as part of their adventure. In pointing out that life is an adventure I am merely giving suffering and pain their proper due—but no more than that.

Let suffering be a part of your experience but not the whole part and not even the greater part. There is so much to take in and be grateful for. Discover the other parts of your journey and rejoice. Regardless of the duration and the difficulty of the journey, we have been called to something special.

Life might be a Catholic joke

There is a standard joke where a Roman Catholic dies and goes to heaven. To his amazement, upon arriving there he finds that everyone else is there as well. Rendered speechless, he tries to mingle with his Catholic friends.

There are other versions of this joke where a Methodist (or insert Presbyterian, Anglican, Pentecostal, etc.) dies and goes to heaven. To her horror, she finds there the Roman Catholics alongside the Muslims! The Jews have their version of this joke —perhaps even atheists have a take on it.

I’ve been thinking lately that my life tends to mirror this Catholic joke. Let me explain what I mean.

When my wife and I first decided to get a dog it went something like this. We purchased a puppy and we began to train him. When I began to take the dog on daily walks, I saw many others who were also out on a walk with their dogs. Where had these people been before? Had we all purchased our first puppy at the very same time?

Shortly after my son was born we began to take him out on his stroller. Same thing happened. Whenever we would go out, we would meet other parents who were out with their kids on their strollers. What was going on? I was sure these people had never been in our neighbourhood before.

Long before retiring I fantasized about shopping at busy stores all by myself. With my day no longer following a rigid schedule I could go to the mall at dinner time or first thing in the morning when the store opened. But can you guess what I found? Groups of hitherto unknown and unseen individuals were there as well, regardless of the time I chose.

It would be ludicrous to suggest that hordes of dog walkers, parents and shoppers inexplicably began to stalk me. I suspect the truth has more to do with my awareness.

My lack of awareness, actually. It seems that as individuals we are prone to a disturbing type of tunnel vision. We follow established tracks. We get so busy that we do not notice others all around us unless suddenly we have something in common with them.

I find this concept fascinating. Life is so much broader than the small fraction we experience. We may be truly missing out.

Consider that the people who populate our city streets in the daytime are not the same people who come out at night. These 2 groups of citizens never meet. An individual in one group could only discover the other group if he changed his schedule. It’s as if we all lived in different cities simultaneously.

To sum up, the world is much bigger than we think. With greater awareness we can confirm that our experiences are indeed universal. Everywhere we go, someone has been there before.

*Note: the word catholic means “universal.”

Parallel narratives

“The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.” —Muriel Rukeyser

From a very young age, we assume that our thoughts and observations set us apart from other species and from our fellow humans. Experts, however, disagree. They claim that people on the planet are more alike than different from each other. Most of what we experience and feel is apparently universal. Even our firmly-held beliefs, built in time and through personal experience, are likely just borrowed or stolen. It is always someone else who is the source for our entire belief system.

Yet there is something personal about our existence. It is the narrative that runs through our brain. Our needs, our wants, our feelings, our experiences are what we have in common with everyone else. But the narrative, the filter as it were, that we carry in our brain can be uniquely ours. The stories we accept about our lives do set us apart from our neighbours, family and friends.

A plethora of narratives are available on our planet.

A common narrative is the one where the individual is largely a victim of circumstance. Here she is helpless and unable to steer events in her favour. Life seems indifferent and cruel. Little can be done to alter one’s course. Like the proverbial tumbleweed, the individual in this narrative is strewn about without a clear purpose or reason.

A second narrative counters the first. Here the individual may control at least a portion of his destiny. He is not a victim in the least. He has autonomy to do as he thinks, to live as he wants. The forces against him are mere challenges to be overcome. For this individual “ everything happens for a reason” and he feels at home inside his universe.

Some religions tell us that we are immortal creatures with a soul and a planned destiny. If we live within prescribed means during our sojourn on earth, we will be reunited with God some day and He will reward us with a peaceful eternity.

Science offers the narrative that our place in the universe is tenuous at best. We are intelligent animals but we are doomed on account of our deep character flaws. In relative short order, as Nature shuffles her deck of organisms and species, we should expect to become obsolete.

There can be many other narratives that dance inside our heads. Some people believe that the earth and its species are here for our sole enjoyment. They pillage and plunder with no thought for future generations. Others are convinced that humans are all powerful. They plan and scheme without restraint. They long to settle space and conquer galaxies.

My current life narrative is rather modest. Because I don’t know where we came from and where we are actually going, I try to walk this earth with some humility. I face each day with a spirit of adventure and I strive to show respect to everyone I meet.

To feel some enduring purpose, I even act like my actions and beliefs are consequential, but I am willing to accept that this may not be true. I try to make the most of my time on earth.

Narratives have a unique power over us. They guide us through each day and they give us meaning in a confusing world. They also help us perpetuate the myth that we are special in some way.

The heartbreak of talent

If you are inclined to be cruel, try this social experiment. Tell an individual who can draw, sing or do anything else well that she is supremely (if not divinely) talented. Tell her often —even trot out the word genius—and then watch what happens.

In short order, she will stop working at her craft and begin to coast. She will thank her god for her special calling and she will wait for all manner of success to be dropped into her lap. In no time, this individual who showed promise with her exceptional ability will re-join her peers to languish in a sea of mediocrity.

What we commonly refer to as talent is the ability that some people have to do something well faster than the time it takes for the rest of us to do it. Think of it as an aptitude on steroids. An exceptional golfer? He didn’t even take lessons. A fantastic painter? She observes details that many of us do not see. An incredible musician? He can play a melody after hearing it just once.

That this ability exists and that it allows some individuals to progress with less effort is undeniable, but it is a pitfall for anyone who wants to achieve enduring excellence of any kind.

The moment your peers anoint you as talented is the moment that a certain tension is released and your work begins to suffer. Your peers reinforce the illusion that you are guaranteed sure, incremental progress without hardship. You wallow in the glow of their instant approval. You begin to sit back and enjoy your limited success.

Eventually, the light of reason seeps in and you realize you have been lied to. There is the gnawing impression that individuals with half your talent but twice your effort will soon surpass you. Their hard work and subsequent results are sure to embarrass you and, suddenly and inexplicably, you entertain the idea of giving up. Talent has broken your heart.

What is unique about anyone’s achievement is not talent, it is skill. Skill is earned through hard work and through what could only be called a stubborn patience. All of us can attain a specified skill, but few of us accept the time and sacrifice involved.

People who praise others for their talent also reinforce the misconception that talent is rare.

Talent as it turns out, is not rare at all. Every one of us can do something in less time than it takes someone else to do it. But what of a Mozart or a Beethoven? Did they not possess a talent that is rarest of the rare?

No. Young musical prodigies pop up around the planet in surprising regularity. Few of them continue as adult prodigies, however, because the path to attaining superior skills is long and treacherous. Throughout human history, in every field and at predictable intervals, “crops of prodigies” emerge and disappear in predictable fashion.

If you praise someone’s exceptional skill you recognize what is truly unique. You are praising an exceptional effort, exceptional determination, exceptional discipline, exceptional dedication and exceptional results. Through an unflinching commitment to his craft, the individual has arrived at a rare, unprecedented mastery.

Therefore, do not insult a master by praising his talent.* To do so is to invalidate the thousands of hours he has allocated to his craft. You will deny his many sacrifices along his complicated journey—perhaps even his humanness— by suggesting that his rare ability comes from the blessing of providence or mere chance.

Like the adult who leaves his childhood far behind, the master invariably abandons his talent in favour of pursuing a different road. This is the road of sacrifice and painstaking work —the road required to achieve uncommon excellence.

*I highly recommend reading Seth Godin’s The Practice; Shipping Creative Work on this topic.

Trusting yourself is hard

While growing up, I struggled to learn an embarrassing number of things.

Math and science never clicked for me. The teachers were cold and they lacked a sense of humour. Their classrooms seemed drab and uninviting.

I had no confidence in my ability to work with my hands. For some reason I feared the precision of tools and machines. Success in wood work or metal work appeared impossible. It was as if I could not handle the real, physical world.

As I grew up and matured, it became evident that I was becoming a rather lopsided individual. In the arts I was king. I could draw and I could write. I loved to read and I had enough curiosity to study the detailed histories of several civilizations. But in just about everything else I was a zero. As many of us do, I had learned just enough to be gainfully employed and I could hide my ignorance about everything else.

When I reached my forties I realized that I had missed the boat with my learning. It was now clear to me that I had not yet learned the most important lesson of all: to trust myself wholly and implicitly. I was terrible at it. I loved the relative safety of following others and heeding their advice.

To trust yourself can be challenging at the best of times, but it seems to be most difficult when you come to it later in life.

The process of learning to trust myself has been ongoing for decades.

Initially I started to draw inward and just accept that I could decide things on my own and would be okay. The encouragement of others was immense here. It was important to see that the sky would not fall if I took an unpopular or unexpected decision.

Next I took a closer look at the culture and religion I had inherited. This was not a case of rejecting all that I had been taught. Rather, it was a case of examining things closer, of seeing what I truly believed in versus what I had been told to believe in.

I put my faith on hold and decided to explore the possibility that all religions had been man made. Gone were the ideas of a real hell and a real heaven. Gone too was the god that I created in my own image.

I considered the source and logic behind every suggestion that came across my mental desk. I weighed the advice of others with more caution.

Walking without a safety net beneath me has been challenging. Trusting yourself is wonderful but it can be exhausting. Sometimes you can choose your steps quickly. At other times choosing is a laboured process, fraught with self-doubt and some residual guilt.

Mostly, however, it is a humbling experience. Contrary to what some may think, trusting yourself is not a carte blanche to do as you want. Rather it’s a daily mandate to walk through life in a thoughtful way.

Because I have taken charge of my life, I am not easily pushed around or coerced into something I do not want. I relish my freedom to just be and I am grateful for an opportunity to live life authentically.

Humour is always the right medicine

The title for this blog says it all. If it were not for our ability to laugh at events, at others, and ultimately at ourselves, we would be doomed indeed.

There has been precious little to laugh at, this year. The pandemic has wrought havoc and destruction. Our lives are in danger. Our businesses are virtually destroyed. Our morale is low. Our relationships are wrapped in fear.

Yet life goes on. It stumbles forward in the face of adversity. It refuses to give in until it has to.

If you had to bury a loved one during the past 8 months you could barely do it. Health restrictions no longer allow a normal funeral or a wedding. You can’t go to the movies. You can’t watch a live game. You can’t go to a restaurant. You can’t even browse in a store.

Life moves forward despite the heavy setbacks we experience at the hands of this merciless virus.

And humour is always the right medicine. Humour disarms us of our fears and biases. Humour helps us to forget ourselves and stand up to something that threatens us.

Historians claim that when Hitler decided to carpet bomb London during WW II his immediate desire was to destroy the city but also demoralize its inhabitants. Much to his surprise, the Londoners proved to be a stubborn lot. The buildings were destroyed but Londoners became increasingly brave. Far from being demoralized, they grew bolder and more determined to fight back.

Humour keeps us from retreating when we are faced with pain. When we look at tragic circumstances as anomalies we gain time. While we laugh at a problem we remind ourselves that we will be okay and can move forward. Emboldened by this internal realization, we brave on.

Someone has said that life is either a tragedy or a comedy —take your pick.

A tragedy because it inevitably leads to failure and death. Nothing “gold” can stay. All decays. All arrives and then disappears as if on cue. It all feels futile and brief.

But life can be a comedy if you just see it that way. All the calamities, frustrations, squandered dreams —these can be interpreted with a different perspective. These can be responded to with deliberate detachment.

Is everything enjoyable in life? Of course not. But if we choose laughter as an initial response to all the bad we can’t control, we gain hope and know we will endure.

The limits of generosity

My parents survived the second world war but just barely. During the war mom was a young lady living in Rhodes Island, Greece and my father was an officer incarcerated in a British concentration camp in Ethiopia. They saw firsthand the effects of selfishness and greed. On several occasions, they almost starved to death. Their survival was only possible due to the generosity of others.

When it came to raising their children, mom and dad made it a priority to identify and praise individuals who were generous. Largesse was celebrated in our household as an immediate and dramatic solution to a practical problem. A large and unexpected act of generosity magically alleviated a difficult circumstance. An act of kindness could be a salve to one’s dilemma.

One time, when we lived in Argentina, my father was inspecting a produce farm and was offered some watermelons. “Sure,“ replied my father while thinking of his sons who happened to love them. It was a warm summer day and the fruit would be appreciated. The farmer then literally filled the box of dad’s truck with watermelons—a benefit to our entire neighbourhood! For years my father praised such uncommon generosity.

My mother would also wax poetic about people who shared whatever they could. Their food, their money, their time —it was the thing to do! Help others whenever possible but try not to draw attention to yourself.

An attitude of giving fostered joy in our home. I and my brother did our best to imitate our parents. We gave away our food in the school playground. We shared our toys with our playmates. We helped around the house and were available to help others when needed.

One time I gave away a leather jacket to a friend who merely wanted to borrow it. It had been an expensive gift from my aunt only a few weeks before. I expected to draw some criticism for my decision but, to my surprise, when my aunt found out about it she said nothing. Later I discovered that she too, as a young woman had given away her coat to a needy person.

It feels wonderful to give. You see instant joy in the eyes of the recipient and you feel great for having helped someone else. People praise you and celebrate your good character. Sometimes they marvel at your audacity for doing the unthinkable. They look at you as an example to follow.

In truth, however, there is a darker side to generosity. Part of the elation one feels when being generous to others has a more to do with meeting an emotional need than it does with helping out. Being generous helped me feel better about myself. As an immigrant to Canada, it helped me secure acceptance and social standing.

At worst, being generous led to a sort of arrogance where I began to see myself as better than those who would not share. My friends accepted my random acts of kindness but were uneasy about the sudden imbalance in our relationship. In my mind I was giving freely but in their mind it looked manipulative and controlling.

It has taken time to see that my generosity was likely more a coping strategy than proof of my maturity. And when I noted that my friends had no intention of reciprocating, it left me in a real bind. What to think of those who were indifferent to my generosity or simply took advantage of me? Whom could I trust as real friends?

In time, my parents grew increasingly bitter. Their generosity over the decades had been repaid with scorn or ridicule. Family members and associates took us for granted. Multiple relationships unravelled because my parents could no longer trust the individuals they had been generous to.

Just the same, within limits, a generous life seems to be the intelligent way to live. Our planet offers more than enough resources if we are willing to share them with one another. A spirit of generosity helps us celebrate our collective good fortune and the wonder that it is to be alive. And there are times when lending another a helping hand is just the right thing to do.

The insanity of those whose goal it is to accumulate and hoard is plain to see.

We all go to our grave in similar fashion.

The company of dreams

When I look back on my life I see that the best friends that have accompanied me since childhood have been my dreams. I do not mean the dreams that entertain us while we sleep, but rather the ones that we hold dear inside us. These dreams comprise our hopes and desires for what is better, what is meaningful. They are like prayers that try to influence how our lives will unfold.

Sometimes dreams are so beneath the surface of our awareness that when they are manifested in actual life we are pleasantly surprised if not shocked. The places we visit, the people we meet and marry, the jobs that come our way —-all of these were not quite what we had anticipated. In fact, they were better!

In my experience the dreams that have worked out were ethereal at best. They arrived in my consciousness unannounced and were not wrapped in expectation. In fact, I did not know they were actual dreams of mine until they came to fruition.

In contrast, there are are the dreams that we receive from family, friends or the media. These dreams demand our constant attention but they almost never come true. These are the dreams that condition and control us; they push us to live inauthentic lives.

One example of such a dream is the dream of being rich. We wait faithfully to be gifted with thick cash out of the blue. It does not happen but we feel somehow that it’s just about to. Someone will finally recognize our greatness and reward us handsomely for it. We will inexplicably win the lottery and win big! Waiting for this dream to materialize can be harmful if it deters us from earning our wealth in a normal way.

Another example is the dream of being comfortable. Like the dream where sudden, vast wealth plucks us from poverty, this dream promises salvation from discomfort and pain. Life becomes easy and you are now free from anxiety and worry. Again, this is unlikely to happen so you may as well strive to look after yourself.

Generally, it is best not to pursue dreams that relieve us from our mortal limitations. Social wisdom dictates that it is futile to escape death and taxes. It is also futile to escape suffering. Like the fortuneteller who cannot predict the future of her own life with any accuracy, it is difficult for us to gauge correctly the dreams that promise to save us from pain. More often than not, these dreams are a guise for frivolous, wishful thinking.

With age and experience comes the courage to be sincere about your life. Truth be told, not everything you had hoped for has turned out in the way you had imagined. Life has had its share of disappointments and failures.

Still, life remains magical if only because some dreams do come true. What you secretly wish for in your heart of hearts occasionally becomes an incontrovertible fact. But because there is little rhyme or reason to explain why that happens, your job is just to enjoy it while you can.