Tag Archives: perspective

The math behind experiences

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I wrote a 3-Part West Coast Trail series (1, 2, 3) after returning home from the trip. My buddy Dave and I, ‘The Two Daves’, have had some amazing experiences in 6 weeks. St Mark’s Summit, Everesting the Crunch, Sea to Sky, Tofino, and the West Coast Trail. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to experience these things with Dave… and many others who have joined and supported us.

My visits to many places and gratitude towards many people has me thinking… The experiences we have are built on a simple equation:

Experiences = Places + People

We need both. Places that take us out of our usual routines, and people to share those places with.

It’s a simple equation, and yet it’s what brings us joy in our lives.

WCT 3 – The trip inside the trip

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Part three in my West Coast Trail (WCT) dairy. So far I’ve shared: WCT 1 – The Sun Gods Smiled On Us, and WCT 2 – Fellow Hikers. Now I’m going to share a magical trip we did inside of our WCT trip. I mentioned that it was always our intent to spend one full day on the beach, a ‘rest’ day on the trail, but our timing wasn’t working until we decided to add one more day to the trip. From WCT -1:

Long Beach Wisdom

We arrived at Tsusiat falls on the 5th day, typical for people starting on the south end like us, and planning to spend just one more night on the trail. That’s when we remembered the wise words Kristen shared with us on Long Beach, near Tofino, just a few days before:

“I’ll give you my Retirement speech: Retirement allows you to be in the moment for as long as the moment lasts.”

We are both retired. We don’t have work to get back to. We can stay an extra day.

Creating The Time and Space

While the Tsusiat falls are beautiful, it’s a very busy campsite, and that’s not what we wanted for our day off.

That’s when a fellow hiker gave us some advice, instead of the 13km hike to the next suggested campsite, go an easy 8km to the Tsocowis campsite, which also has a waterfall, and is not very popular because it’s going too far for people starting in the north, and makes the last day too long for people going north like us.

To understand how special this day was, it is best framed by the start of the day, receiving gifts, watching whales, and connecting with amazing people. Re-read the Serendipity and Generosity section of WCT 1 to understand that before our ‘trip inside of a trip’ even started it was a special day.

What we planned for this day was a magic mushroom trip.

I had purchased, (legally from a Vancouver dispensary), a mushroom called Poseidon’s Finger, ‘a high-potency hybrid Psilocybin cubensis mushroom strain created by crossing Tidal Wave and Albino Penis Envy’. Users report, ‘intense visual distortions, warped perception, deep emotional introspection, and waves of euphoria.‘ I’m going to use these descriptions as heading for my experiences, but put them in the order of my experiences, although there were many overlapping moments.

But first: Our goal was to set up everything for the evening (our tent, food prep, purifying water, gathering firewood, etc), and make it so that we had an entire day free of any responsibility. We had successfully moved from a crowded beach to one that only had 4 of us on it, and we knew the other two campers, although on this day we did nothing more with them other than share an occasional greeting wave.

Our set-up was perfect, our setting was perfect, we just had to think about our dose now. I had only ever micro-dosed with Poseidon’s Finger before, so I wasn’t sure how strong they would be. I took a full package of 3.5 grams, which is a dose I’d taken of another mushroom, but as I discovered, Poseidon’s Finger was much more potent than anything I’d tried before. My buddy took a little less than me, but still quite a high dose.

Four hours later we made a joke that might not be funny now, but for us at the time it was gut-busting hilarious. My buddy said something like, “We took Poseidon’s finger right up to the elbow.” To which I responded, “Up to the elbow and it tickled our tonsils.” This was a four-plus hour trip and, throughout it, just when you thought you were coming down a new wave of euphoria or heightened visuals would hit you and remind you that Poseidon still had a grip on you. While I made jokes like, “OK, that’s enough, let me off this planet.” I never actually felt uncomfortable or scared. There were times when I felt things were out of my control, however I always felt safe… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

As I said, the day was already magical, we set up everything to make our environment as simple as possible, and the setting was a stunning beach with a waterfall nearby. All the conditions were perfect. We had a late lunch with the mushrooms because dried mushrooms on their own can be a bit hard on your stomach. Then we hung around our tent for a while.

 Warped Perception: Every time estimation from here on in is approximate, part of the warped perception we experienced was that the concept of time was inconceivable. Somewhere around 30-45 minutes after taking the mushrooms, I suggested walking over to the falls. We had already done this 3 minute walk to collect water earlier, but walking to the waterfall on mushrooms felt like a journey somewhere between 10 minutes and 3 days. Yes, that’s an exaggeration but my first instinct was to say ‘forever’… I felt like no matter how far I walked, the waterfall seemed continually far away.

At the waterfall there was a very large log lying on it’s side and it had about 25 feet of a flat groove that my buddy and I laid down on, about 6 feet apart, (he was about 6 feet below my feet, on the same flat section).

Waves of euphoria

The amount of laughing we did to start the journey was almost too much. I had tears pouring out of my eyes as pure joy overwhelmed me. I felt elated about being retired. I felt honoured to be doing this journey with my buddy. I thought of how lucky I am to have the incredible family that I do. I was delighted with the stunning surroundings. And I felt the gift of being alive! We laughed on and on for a very long time. I think we were at the waterfall for roughly 1.5 to 2 hours and during that time about 50-70% of the time we were laughing and joyous.

Intense visual distortions

The waterfall was absolutely stunning. On it’s own it was beautiful, but add the intense visuals of the mushrooms and it was out of this world. The rocks around the upper part of the falls were getting pixilated for lack of a better word. The brown tones shifted and danced. For a while I saw, on the right side of the falls, a face with the waterfall coming out of it’s mouth. But again, this wasn’t a stationary face, it was animated and the shifting tones gave it expression.

My buddy was having a completely different experience. He was seeing hexagons and geometric shapes, and when he shut his eyes very tight and re-opened them he felt like he changed channels and was watching a completely different version of the landscape. He told me to try too, but I couldn’t get myself to squeeze my eyes tight. When I tried, it felt like I was going to temporarily blink myself out of existence. This should probably be scary, it wasn’t… but it did feel like too much to try.

I should preface this with the fact that I’ve tried a heroes dose of a similar drug with a guide, and I’ve never been able to have an out of body experience. I don’t know if it’s a stubborn ego or what’s blocking me, but I can’t seem to do it. I tried a couple times on this trip. We were chatting and I could see the world distorting, and I’d say to my buddy, “I’m blinking out right now, if I don’t respond, don’t worry, I’m just not going to be here for a bit.” Then I’d let go, but somehow my body wouldn’t. During this time I said a number of times, “The world is unzipping!” – This felt like a very real experience, like reality was going to be unfastened and stripped away… but not like watching a zipper open up, rather being the zipper between this world and another. Disorienting and a bit uncomfortable but again, not scary.

One thing was very unsettling for me, and that was the horizon. We were on a beach with about 160º view of the open ocean. Turning around to face the ocean was destabilizing. The horizon didn’t seem real. The clouds seemed way too close, and too geometric to be real. I felt like I was looking at a hologram from the wrong angle and seeing a part of the matrix that I wasn’t supposed to be seeing. At one point I stood up to pee, but that statement sounds too sudden to be truly descriptive of the experience. First of all it felt like it took me 20 minutes just to talk myself into doing this monumental task, then another 10 to actually do it. Shifting from lying down to standing was almost too much to handle visually. I was relieved to lie back down.

Deep emotional introspection (Part 1 – The Tree)

At one point I looked over towards the near end of the beach and fixated on a single tree at the headland of the beach cove we were in.

I had a moment of time distortion and imagined a thousand years going by, and thought of the tree dying and falling into the ocean and the ocean eventually eroding away the land it sat on. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and thought of how sad it would be that no one in this distant future would be able to witness this beautiful scene that I was seeing right now.

Then I went really deep.

It occurred to me that this beautiful scene is only beautiful because a conscious mind looked at it. All over the universe there are profoundly beautiful things to see that nobody sees and thus there is no beauty in them at all. Without ego about my personal consciousness I realized that consciousness IS the purpose of the universe. There is no meaning, no appreciation of the sound of the waves, no sense of the warmth of the sun on my face, no beauty at all without consciousness. WE bring purpose and meaning to the universe. Thinking of this made most of my daily, trivial concerns seem comically insignificant, and I had a new appreciation for the beauty of the natural world.

Deep emotional introspection (Part 2 – The Post)

The clouds got more frequent, and combined with the proximity to the falls it started to get very cold. I was probably quite annoying with my complaints, the chill made me feel like life was leaving my body. Then after too long a wait, and much complaining, we finally went back to our campsite and crawled into our sleeping bags. I stayed like a wrapped mummy for a while but staring at the tent was boring so I leaned my upper body out of the tent to see the beautiful landscape. I could see the same headland tree, but from a different angle. I also had an upright post right in front of me.

The post morphed into a kind of totem. It didn’t change shape but I could see how an indigenous artist could find faces and shapes in the wood. Except for me none of the shapes were static. It wasn’t like Michelangelo seeing an angel in the marble and carving to set it free, but rather like a series of dancing shapes bringing the post alive.

Then I focused past the post and thought of the tree, time, and the importance of consciousness in the universe again. Except the post was there in front of me transcending my time warp. The post suddenly took on a feminine presence, like a symbol of Mother Earth. Then femininity. Then my wife. I thought of her standing up against all the challenges she ever faced, I saw her beauty and strength. I saw the gift she gave us of two beautiful and amazing daughters. All this love and joy overwhelmed me. I didn’t realize just how wonderful I felt until I felt blissful tears running down my face.

Integrating and Decompressing

Shortly after this I turned my phone on, we didn’t have reception, but I tried to make a video describing my introspection. The words wouldn’t come to me, they didn’t match the feeling.

I think I laid there, half in and half out of my tent for another 30 minutes to an hour. Fortunately, my friend willed himself to get up faster than me. He adjusted all the tie-downs on our tent, since rain was forecasted, then he started the fire. I literally was not capable of doing these things when he was.

He ate first then I boiled water and had my freeze dried dinner too. We sat by the fire until well after dark. We laughed a lot. And we sat in awe and appreciation of the environment we were in. The campsite we chose had an incredible fire pit that looked like a movie set.

We didn’t talk much. We were still high on life. The joy and laughter we had experienced throughout the day still resonated in us. It rained a little, but that didn’t dampen spirits. The fire was warm and our jackets were almost dry when we finally went to bed.

And to conclude a perfect day, it wasn’t until minutes after we were safely tucked in our sleeping bags that the rain began to downpour.

We couldn’t have asked for anything to have gone better.

A perfect trip. A perfect day.

Seizing, Not Squeezing

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Most of today was spent on the beach, listening to an audiobook. It was an absolutely beautiful sunny day in Tofino, and Dave and I took full advantage of the weather. This is our 3rd and final night van camping before our West Coast Trail adventure begins.

I am finding real value in having down time that doesn’t feel like it’s rushed. I’m not squeezing in down time, I’m making space for it… seizing, not squeezing.

It’s the most delightful part of retirement so far: Prioritizing myself rather than my calendar, (a calendar always filled with other people’s priorities).

Long Beach Wisdom

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Dave and I stopped at Long Beach on the way to Tofino just past noon today. Kristen and Paul from Boulder Colorado stopped to let us know that there was a black bear a little further down the beach.

We chatted for a bit then Dave mentioned that we just retired. Kristen said, “I’ll give you my Retirement speech: Retirement allows you to be in the moment for as long as the moment lasts.”

No reason not to extend the conversation. No reason not to have a serendipitous interaction. No rush.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to watching and listening to the waves come in.

Preparation (and) Time

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It has been over 25 years since I did a hiking/camping trip where I had to pack everything I needed in a backpack. The good news is that there is a lot of lighter equipment now compared to back then. The tent I have now is about half the weight of the one I took years ago. The bad news is that I feel like a rookie and I know I’ve overpacked.

My buddy and I head to Tofino this weekend. Then on Wednesday we drop his van at the north end of the West Coast Trail and take a bus to the southern trailhead. We’ll spend a night at the trailhead before heading out on the 6 night, 75km trail.

Today was a prep day. I bought all my last minute supplies and started sorting food into daily rations. We did a preliminary 5km walk, with packs almost full, early this afternoon. Our packs are heavy, but manageable. I just need to make sure that now that I’ve got everything, it’s still all going to fit.

I’m not surprised how much prep is required, but it still feels like a lot when you are in the thick of it. The prep is worth it though, I’m looking forward to getting back to this trail after going 29 years ago. When I did it back then, it was with my in-laws, (before I married my wife), and my mother-in-law was my age now.

Something I think no one is prepared for is how quickly time flies when you get older. Prepared or not, I’m heading into my 59th birthday with an attitude that I’ve got a lot more life to live… and this camping trip is a perfect example of me trying to make the most of it.

Dear Teachers

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You don’t know.

You don’t know that when a kid asked a question, and you went on a personal tangent and told a little side story, that this unplanned moment was what a kid proudly talked about when her parent said, “What did you learn at school today?”

You don’t know that when a kid messed up (again), you were the only adult he knows who didn’t yell at him and actually gave him another chance.

You don’t know that the kid who comes to class early is doing so because you make them feel safe.

You don’t know that 5 years from now a kid will look back at you as their best teacher… ever.

You don’t know that you are the topic of conversation at dinner tables, because you make a student’s day fun.

You don’t know all the ways that you can make a student’s day special when you remember that you teach kids, not subjects, and you treat kids with dignity and respect.

You don’t know just how much power you have to change the lives of the students you serve.

No Nuance

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One of the biggest issues we face today is the lack of nuance. Over and over again I’ve shared the idea that we don’t live in a dichotomy, but we keep being pushed to the extremes. Here are some post excerpts:

‘Abnormally Normal’ – “But the new normal is not normal. The dichotomy of politics, the hatred between religious extremists, the focus on vengeance and public shaming in social media, police violence against citizens, the inability to share middle-ground opinions without fear of being ‘othered’ by both sides of the political dichotomy… it’s like we’ve slipped into a dystopian movie, and we are left wondering if this is real life?”

‘My one ’ism’ – “My one ‘ism’ is pluralism… We want to live, thrive, and love in a pluralistic society. We just need to recognize that in such a society we must be tolerant and accepting of opposing views, unaccepting of hateful and hurtful acts, and smart enough to understand the difference.”

‘Ideas on a Spectrum’ – “In a civil society, dialogue is the one problem-solving strategy that should be sacred. To do this, free speech is essential. But right now there is a culture of ‘attack the opposition’ that is very scary.”

‘Shades of grey’ – “Just a simple reminder that we don’t live in a dichotomy. The world isn’t either black or white. Most ideas sit somewhere in between.”

I’m guilty of it myself.

I ranted about annoying requests for customer service surveys, but most customer service is good and on average better than in the past.

I complained about an increase in unrealistic parent demands, but the vast majority of parents do a great job.

The reality is that we tend to focus on the extremes and social media algorithms feed this focus ferociously. So, that’s where our attention goes.

I’m going to make a concerted effort to pay attention to nuance in the coming weeks… I’m going to wholeheartedly focus on subtleties and on noticing variances in views and opinions, rather than seeking out the extremes. I feel like this is going to be harder than expected, but I’ll give it a try.

It finally feels official

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My last full day at work was in the first week of July. My last official day was July 31st. But the first real hint that I’ve retired was felt this past Wednesday, when all my Principal and Vice Principal colleagues headed to our board office for a full day of meetings… and I didn’t have to go. It was positively anticlimactic, because I treated it like any other day in my summer holidays.

I did receive an early morning text from a friend and she said, “First day back today. Going to miss trying to find my buddy in the crowd. Enjoy your day!!!!” So I had a frame to set up my thinking about the day and how different it was going to be. Still, I felt no pangs, nor did I feel any celebratory inklings. It just felt lucky to keep going with my summer.

The next big moment will be the first day of school. My Everest the Crunch buddy, Dave, and I are planning a hike on that day. Then just over a week later we are headed to Tofino, and then to do the West Coast Trail (WCT). Just over a week after we return from that, I’m headed to Ontario for 3 weeks in October.

I’ve said for weeks now, when people ask how I like retired life, “Ask me in November, when I’m home and my wife is going to work. Until then, I’m just having a nice extended summer.” That has been my assumed threshold where I figured the experience of retired life would really hit me. But I now feel it has come a little early.

Today I went for a long walk with Dave in my new hiking boots to get ready for the WCT. We walked from his place to the Crunch, did our first crunch since Everesting it (37 times up in less than 2 days, to reach the hight of Mt. Everest), then walked to Starbucks.

The one person in front of me in the line was old, wheelchair bound, and extremely slow. Twenty seconds or so after his transaction, while putting his wallet away, he got confused and pulled it out to pay again, until the cashier politely told him he already paid. Then I waited while he re-put-away his wallet and finally wheeled off. In all honesty, despite my thoughtfulness about his age and challenges, a process like this will often send negative thoughts through my head. I’d think things like, ‘Of course I only have one person in front of me and he takes more time than 3 people.’ Or something else unkind, not because I don’t understand or empathize, but because I’d take in a Murphy’s Law kind of belief system where I’d think I’m always the sucker that has to wait in the slowest lineup.

Today I realized I wasn’t in a rush. I didn’t have to run off to work or a meeting. I wasn’t pressed for time, on the clock, with places to go and people to meet. I could take the time to notice things like the barista asking this elderly man by name if he was eating in or outside so that she could bring him his drink and food when it was ready. And I could see the patience and kindness of the teller when she told this man he already paid. This wonderful man was a regular and this was his community coffee shop.

And I’m not in a rush. My head isn’t overflowing with plans, and my calendar isn’t filled with consecutive appointments. I am not on anyone else’s schedule. I can pause and appreciate a senior in our community being taken care of in a coffee shop by caring service workers who look out for him… And right then I really felt it. I’m retired. I didn’t have to wait until November.

Settled, not settling

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When I moved to Vancouver, I lived a couple blocks from a corner market store that I went to regularly. I got to know the owner, and he treated me to day-old newspapers for free. Unsold papers were not paid for by him, he simply had to cut out the name and date on the front page to return and then recycle the rest of the paper… but he’d save one for me rather than recycle it. For a few months I was a regular reader of the paper news, something I’ve seldom done before or after that time.

In a box in my garage, I know I have a file with clippings I kept from that time. It has been 20+ years since I’ve even seen this file, much less read any of the articles in it. However, there is one article I clipped because at the time it seemed unsettling to me. It was an autobiographical article about an ambitious journalist who got married, had a kid, and completely shifted his priorities. He no longer had the desire to be a travelling journalist seeking news and adventures in foreign lands. Instead, he found joy and desire to be home, spending time with family, and walking his kid to school each morning.

The article was very well written, and convincing… And it bothered me. I remember putting the paper into the recycling bin, and a day or two later before taking it out on trash day, I decided to clip the article out. I was a single, 26-year-old and I decided to keep it as a sort of cautionary tale, a reminder to keep my goals at the forefront, and not ‘settle down’… Not let my aspirations go just because of family.

So why am I thinking of this now? A couple reasons. First, I was young and foolish and didn’t understand the joy of raising kids. But the real reason this came to mind is that now as I head towards the first September in 30 years that I’m not thinking about what I’ll be doing at school, I realize how much my priorities will change.

I recognize that so much of what I defined myself by was about being a teacher and a leader. And that’s gone now. Work defined a large part of my day, and that in turn structured how I identified myself. Without that, what am I? I can see this question getting existential for some retirees… but I’m seeing it in a really good light.

Family and friends, projects I’ve always wanted to get done, more time to write, and even time to cook. These are some of the things I’m going to settle into.

I thought I was keeping that article as a cautionary tale, but I kept it to understand the writer’s perspective, just not as soon as him. He wasn’t settling for less, he was getting settled with priorities that matter.

The (grey) sands of time

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It has been several years since I’ve left my beard for over a week, and now that I have done so, I’m a little surprised by how much grey I see. My beard used to be mostly pepper with a hint of salt, but now the salt has really taken over.

For years now, a passing conversation with my mother-in-law has stuck with me. She was only a few years older than I am now when she shared the following. She said, (and I paraphrase because this was over 25 years ago), ‘You’ll see. You’ll get to my age and you won’t feel old. Your mind will still tell you that you are young, but then you look in the mirror and you see an old you looking back.’

She didn’t say it lightheartedly, but rather with a hint of duress, which is probably what made me remember the conversation. It comes back to me more frequently as I age, and especially when I have moments like this, looking in a mirror and seeing so much grey in my beard. These are ‘where did the time go?’ kind of moments.

And then I shift my thinking. I realize that a lot of time has indeed passed. I see my grown, adult kids and recognize that they too have moments like this, where they wonder how they got to be as old as they are. I see what I’ve built around me with my career, my family, and my friends. I see the commitment I’ve made to care for myself, to dedicate time to writing and to my health… this all takes time. And while I can’t stay young forever, I can continue to feel young.

The grey has come. It will spread. Wrinkle lines will deepen. Reflexes will slow. But I will not yield to these things. I will not accept them as signs that I’m old. No, instead I will work hard to slow the decline in ways I have the power to, and I’ll accept the things that age will make inevitable. Let the grey come. If I still have ways to grow, things to learn, places to see, and experiences to have… I’ll still be young at heart and mind.

Let the grey come.