Tag Archives: life

So delicious

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We are in Mexico and tonight we went to a small restaurant with an octopus in their logo. I took that as a hint that this might be their specialty and so I ordered an Asian Octopus appetizer. Spicy and served in a mild soy sauce it was a mouthwatering treat. I also ordered the Octopus ceviche, which again was a real palate pleaser.

I was not disappointed! The meal was wonderful. And so was the service. And so was the company. There is more than just good food that makes a meal delicious, and tonight’s meal really had everything I could ask for.

Sometimes life can be just so delicious!

The Playmaker

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I watched a high school basketball game tonight. It was a blowout, ending with a score around 51-98. One kid on the winning team was a real highlight reel, with dunks, blocks, steals, 3-pointers, and despite being the biggest guy on the court, he’d bring the ball up the court sometimes, and even play the point guard position.

But of all the things he did, the highlight for me was when he’d penetrate the defence then find the open man and dish it to him for the easy basket. It wasn’t the dunks and blocks, it was being the playmaker and making sweet passes.

Teams need the clutch player that you can count on to score points, but when that clutch player is also a playmaker who makes his team play well, and who isn’t selfish, that’s a really great player. Then he’d be on the bench and he’d cheer like he’s the number one fan of the team.

In life, that’s the player to be.

This is just Canadian high school basketball, and while this kid will probably play university basketball, he’s probably not NBA material… but I’ll tell you one thing, whatever he does in life, I’d want him on my team.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Lying in bed, ear against my pillow. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

My heart beats in my head. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Soothing, calming, an orchestra of internal activity embodied in a single, reoccurring beat. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

A primordial drum, beating in each of us. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal metronome, our connection to musical beats. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Listen to your heart. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Listen to silence between the beats. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

The spaces between the beats are what makes the beat musical. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal connection between our thinking mind and our physical body. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Our personal connection to the universe, and our very existence. Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

I shift my head and can no longer hear or feel the beat. Sleep prevails in silence. I will forget the sound. I will not pay attention to my heartbeat again until my ear sits on my pillow in just the right way. Or when I vigorously exercise.

My heart will continue to work, to sustain me, to feed my cells with oxygen. I don’t need to hear it for it to work. I don’t need to hear it, but when I do it reminds me of how lucky I am. It reminds of how connected I am. It calms me and reminds me that I am grateful to be alive.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub.

Buh-dub. Buh-dub…

Fog and moon

A couple days ago some fog rolled in. Coming home from a dinner, my wife and o say a large coyote wandering down our street. Thankfully our daughter has already brought our cat in for the night. As we got out of our car the coyote was strolling past our driveway and I let out a little shout to ‘Keep going’, spurring it into a faster pace as it went by.

Last night I had a hot tub and the fog was still around. It was eerie seeing the bright moon through the misty fog, and it made me think about what life was like living in caves a couple hundred thousand years ago. No doors to keep out the wild animals, and all kinds of superstitions around the weather and the meaning of different events.

Back then, life was short and ailments like a tooth ache that today could be fixed with a root canal could end up being a fatal and unrecoverable infection. A bad winter could mean starvation. A pack of wild animals could wipe out an entire family. The world was a harsher, more dangerous place.

Today we sit in the comfort of our cars, our homes, and even our hot tubs. We are protected from wildlife, weather, and even other people. And when we look out at the moon on a foggy night it’s not nearly the same experience as our great ancestors. No, to us the fog and moon are an enjoyable sight, a moment to contemplate the hardships of a time long gone… from the comfort of modern amenities.

Simple little things

A happy thought,
A quiet walk,
A restful pause,
A candid talk.

A social night,
A laugh out loud,
A mutual friend,
A gap in the crowd.

A good book,
A favourite meal,
A restful nap,
A bargain deal.

Simple little things
that come our way.
Simple little things
that make our day.

We can appreciate
what we’ve got.
We can be happy
with our lot.

As long as we
are aware,
that we really
needn’t care…

About things we lack,
and things we dread.
And avoid negative thoughts
in our heads.

As long as we
are aware,
that we really
should care…

About the people we love,
and people in need.
About doing what’s right,
and doing good deeds.

Simple little things
that help us cope.
Simple little things
that bring us hope.

Appreciate the little things
that come our way.
And remember to cherish
each and every day.

The best gifts we have
are love and time.
A life well lived
is truly sublime.

Life need not be filled
with accolades and aclaim,
It need not be a life of
excessive wealth and fame.

What makes us rich are
the simple little things,
that bring us joy
and make our hearts sing.

Simple little things.

1.5 billion beats

I just started a new audio book, Scale, by Geoffrey West. I learned that almost all life forms have an average of about 1.5 billion heartbeats in their lives. Mice have faster heart rates, and die sooner as a result. Turtles and whales live over 100 years with their slower heartbeats. But fast or slow, it seems animals end up with about the same number of beats if they live a full life.

I find statistics like this fascinating. How is it that this is a constant when so many other factors come into play, and when so many evolutionary traits went in different directions? Trunks, blow holes, shells, horns, fins, arms, wings, marsupial tails, all evolve with different purposes, but our many sized hearts all give our different species the same amount of beats.

We may not have the same appendages, we may be all different sizes and shapes, and we all have different amount of time on this planet… but all our mechanical clocks tick the same number of times. Amazing!

Internal dialogue

I find it interesting how the voice in our heads can be so loud. Sometimes it’s like we live two different lives, one in the 3-dimensional world and one in the ethereal space between our ears. Both lives playing out simultaneously and each distracting ourselves from the other.

Sometimes they sync and we become a singularly focused person… both lives becoming one in moments of joy, love, anger, or gratitude, as examples. But often those are high and low moments that draw our mutually focused attentions. Most of our lives they seem to be in minor conflict with each other, fighting for our full attention.

I like the moments when my internal dialogue is quiet, and more focused on being present in the physical world, but there are times when this seems impossible. There are times when the internal dialogue is a complete distraction from reality, in a full on battle for attention. When I’m in this space, the internal dialogue usually wins. These are times that I’m more comfortable being alone than in the presence of anyone. Yet, I don’t feel alone… I’ve got an internal voice keeping me company.

This is neither good nor bad, this is determined by context. If I’m thinking of something dark or gloomy, it can be a bad headspace to be in. But if I’m deep in thought and excited about some new learning or ideas, or if I’m creating or writing, then I could be in a fantastic headspace.

My internal dialogue is like a second world, a second life that lives inside my head, and can be on a continuum from fully engaged in the physical world to almost fully ignorant of my surroundings. Both extreme cases can be wonderful, but it seems I live most of my life balancing the two worlds as best as I can.

The road to here

Sometimes you meet someone and their journey through life intrigues you. They share a glimpse of their history and you realize that you can’t really fathom what it would have been like to have had their experiences. You can hear of defining moments of good or bad luck, or even seemingly minor choices that end up with very significant consequences. Moments that alter a single life or many lives.

One interesting note is that it seems people who experience great hardships are often open to sharing them more openly than you would expect. I had one such encounter yesterday when I met a friend of a friend. Within minutes of meeting him I heard a story from his past that was from a dark part of his life, and so profoundly different from anything that I’d ever experienced that I felt I was listening to a movie plot, not an actual story from someone’s experience.

Sorry, I won’t be sharing the story. It’s not my story to tell. But it got me thinking about the road to here. About how every person is on a completely different journey. Each of us carrying with us the the successes and also the emotional as well as physical baggage that shaped us.

How different my journey is from someone born the same time as me in another part of the world… If I were to take a snapshot of the lives of myself and 8 others born at the same instance, I’d probably be in the top 1/3 financially today. I’d also be in the top 1/3 of those lucky to have a privileged path to my current life… with hardships that do not compare to the bottom 1/3, 3 people sharing my birthday, my birth second, but far less fortunate than me.

I think there is something therapeutic about hearing the stories of others. Appreciating that someone’s path is one you’d rather not have travelled is humbling. There isn’t judgment, just an appreciation that you had your own path, your own road that you travelled. And while the road can seem challenging, so many others face challenges you can’t imagine.

It’s wonderful to share the road, every now and then, with someone who has taken a completely different journey than you. To hear of their path to here and now, and to understand that we have a lot to appreciate about our own journey.

What are your defining moments on your road to here?

Waking state

There are different levels of awakeness. Yes, I know that’s not a word, but it should be. Perhaps I should just say awareness but I’m thinking of something a little different. Awareness suggests choice, a choosing of how aware we are. Awakeness is a level of consciousness, a state rather than a choice.

There are days we are barely awake. We go through the motions of the day, oblivious and blissfully unaware of our existence beyond the trivial requirements placed on us by society: good family member, good employee… in a body than needs food and liquid substance.

There are times when we are a little more awake, and we see beauty and feel love. We recognize the value of the life we live.

And then there are moments of being fully awake. They are the rare moments when we understand that we are part of a living earth, we are beings conscious of our own existence and of the existence of the universe. We are all at once beings of purpose and yet insignificant in the cosmos: Everything and nothing.

Are we aware of how awake we are? How often do we spend at these different levels of awakeness? Should we be spending a bit more time a little more awake? What can we do to stay more awake more often?

Oh, can’t complain

Today on a stroll through a Saturday Farmer’s Market I passed an interesting character. He was on the obese side of heavy, in a motorized wheelchair, in loud checkered pants, and a colourful muscle shirt that revealed his diabetes monitor on his arm. Just as I was passing him, he bumped into someone he knew and I heard his response to her question, “Oh, can’t complain.”

I find it fascinating that people who suffer the most, and need the most, are often the most optimistic and generous. I worked in a school for very high needs students, many of whom came from very needy families, yet their parents were far more likely to donate their time to a shelter or volunteer kitchen than at any other school I’ve ever worked at.

My thought of the day, “Quit yer bitch’in.”

So many people have so much more to worry about and yet they live a life where they ‘can’t complain’… so really, what do we have to complain about?

Life is amazing, there is so much to appreciate, so much to value and cherish. Live, laugh, love, and for your sake more than anyone else’s… stop complaining.