Motivation

I always look for motivation for being conscious of what I eat. I watch documentaries about genetically modified food, the hazards of processed foods, the mistreatment of animals and people in the production of our food and so on. I have made some progress in the quality and quantity of the food I eat but as a human often slip and or ignore the truth in favour of what I want.

Today a little thing has driven home a nice little message. I was eating a bag of Quaker Crisp Minis Dill Pickle flavoured rice cakes the other day in the car. I choose the rice cakes over chips because I perceive that they are somehow better for me. This morning I am driving to work and as I drive the sun hits the dash in a certain way and I see a “wet” spot on the dash. And in the centre is a large piece of dust. The dust it turns out is a spec of the dill pickle coating from the rice cakes and the wet spot is grease that has spread out from the spec of coating. A centimetre in diameter grease spot from on spec of a flavour coating on a rice cake!

I have today been tuned to a new outlook on what I am eating and the thousand or tens of thousands of the dill pickle coating specs I ate in one bag of rice cakes. Will I slip again? You bet I will but hopefully I will remember the spec and retune my consumption.

I believe in garbage, but why?

If we believe in the concept of garbage then everything we have, cherished or not, is garbage. You are sitting on garbage, eating garbage, sleeping in garbage and wearing garbage. It is only the action of decision and a moment in time that changes an objects status.  It is only an objects rejection due to its inability to fulfill its purpose in your eyes that sets an objects destiny.

If there is garbage then all things are trash based on arbitrary values placed on it using subjective rationale.

What if we changed that, what if we recognized everything as valuable in some context?

What if in our decision to purchase an item we asked ourselves how long will this be useful and once it is no longer useful to me who will use it next? Further how will an object in it's whole form or in its various materials and then raw material can be eternally used?

If an object is formed for long term use, repaired and valued by many over a long time. Then if its original function is lost can it be repurposed in whole or in part without energy use? When no part of the object can be repurposed any further how easy is it to get it back to its base resources and then those resources used again?

If your umbrella was not garbage when the individual raw materials were collected, and when the individual parts were manufactured, it was not garbage when the parts were assembled, it was not garbage when you purchased it, and it is not garbage when you used it, it was not garbage when you repaired it once or twice, when is it garbage, why does it become garbage?

What if we released ourselves from the concept of valueless objects and seen all things as resources in transition? What if quality included an emphasis on the repurposing of the object, its parts and in the end it raw material?

What if disposable was a dirty word?

I believe in garbage and objects often seem to have no value or are too hard to find value in, but why?

Can I change, maybe so, I will try, but what can be done in this disposable world?

Words

What words will win the day?
What turn of phrase will spark action?
What sentence will bring tears?
What story will inspire millions?
How will the story be told?
Will we recognize lines scribbled by fools?
Will we know the writings of the wise?
Words without action are hollow
Are actions without the proper words in vain?
Soar on a speech
run on a song
live in a poem
What words will win the day?

The Me That I Am

Fusion fission, universe constructed

Primordial puddle of chemicals.

Striving for life in the air no longer bound to salt water.

Long line of ancestors struggle to self-awareness,

struggle to art and society.

War upon war, men to crops, crops to men

European social constructs

German precision, Irish determination to survive

Grandfathers misted in time carry our DNA to a new world.

Oh Canada, so strong, so free.

Wealth by virtue of birthplace.

Maternal love, naive yet kind,

Paternal harsh fear,

both broken yet weld the next generation

Peers and burdens to good and evil

Every book that I read and understand.

Television sending my mind in too many directions.

Every voice that I hear, every soul that touches me

The love of a Great woman,

good and beautiful hearts of my young.

My inner spirit, forever pushing and controlling

The acts of kindness I pursue,

acts of kindness that are bestowed upon me.

The strength to reflect and examine the me that I am.

One Day In The Future

Bare cupboard,

bare shelves.

A hole in your stomach,

a hole in your heart.

Emptiness of poverty,

no prosperity.

You remember the blemished apple,

the restaurant meal too large to finish

the bread somewhat stale.

What you would give for even a morsel,

or a rotted bit.

In wealth there was waste,

recalled in your hunger,

Is this not Hell?

Highway to Peace

Finding peace

paddle to water

on the river.

Hidden mystery

living water

in the river.

Man and nature

living in harmony

near the river.

Our history

story of Canada

highway river.

Man in charge

nature vanishing

away from the river.

Find ourselves

find our place

look to the river.

Vibrant Summer

The strength of this summer was not in the beauty of the flowers but in the fact that we took time to notice. It was not in the absence of strife or in the plenty and abundant but in the fact that we were thankful. The bargains and windfalls of this summer did not make it what it was; it was the fact that we made proper use of them when presented to us.


We made the summer what it was by our attention to the human side of each other and our environment. We made the summer by recognizing the beauty that surrounded us and simple riches we enjoy.

From covered bridges to homemade pickles and paddling in the North, summer was ours. We did not fight a cause or demand justice, we simply lived life. We will stand for that which in not right, but it is just as important to watch your life and appreciate what you see.

Let the waves roll over your toes and sigh at the wonder of it all.

This Day?

So what is a day, how is it defined?

This one is not yet over yet I have cleaned out the eve troughs with the help of my sons. I have cut the lawn using my 60+ year old push mower (no gas and oil just sweat and toil).

Michelle and Tim are canning pickles made from Tim’s cucumbers he grew in his garden. I read an article on how to make my own Kefir (fermented milk beverage good for making you digestive system work well) so I can be healthy.

I spoke with my Dad and he told me a few stories from his youth and I wrote then down. He is in a mood to reminisce and I will have to go and visit this week.

There is a frog in our pond and the Roses of Sharon are blooming.

This day is not special or exciting, it is not one for the books, but it adds to the overall saga of this family. It will reinforce the collection of stories that a family builds if we choose to pay attention. A life is a lot of mundane tasks, eating and sleeping, infused with brief blooms of action and beauty, glory and sadness.

Such is life at the gates of Utopia.

It Is Ours

Aluminum painted to look like birch bark. Panned by the critics as useless, not valid for the purpose it was designed. At first it will not budge as if stuck in the water by some new gravitational force, and then as I adjust my stroke and reposition my body it begins to move as I continue and adjust in small increments we become graceful together with the river. It is a dance of finesse that will be refined with each stroke of the paddle, with each new wind and current. Canoe, paddle, water, and man at once separate and yet one.


After the dance begins and the rhythm is established the river and its inhabitants show themselves to the mind now able to focus on more then just the paddle. A Trumpeter Swan stands guard of the hidden nest, willing to fight and sacrifice if necessary to save the next generation and its mate. The Kingfisher lives up to its name before my eyes. A large bass breaks the water after some insect on or above the surface. A snapping turtle not ever afraid but wary never the less submerges, a heron stands in silent, still breakfast vigil. These are the gifts of the river, small treasures exposed to the one who chooses to quietly send his paddle into the flow.

There are other things too; a train trestle waiting for the thundering load that it has been willing to bear for a good part of most of our lives. The distant sound of an eighteen wheeler as it slows itself for the curve. Families heading to town to buy things needed for the weekend on the highway nearby. I see the homes of those lucky enough to have the sense and the dollars to place themselves in daily beauty. This river is not in a wilderness or even remote, it is near and it is ours to enjoy.

The Thames and all its forks have gifts for us from Stratford to Woodstock, Ingersoll, and London and beyond. It is one of those good places it is ours and it is here. You need not go far to dance with canoe and paddle. Do not feel nature is beyond your reach, it is here and now.

When I paddle the Thames in Oxford, Perth and Middlesex I find that I am usually nearly alone. I am not complaining about the solitude but I wish others would come out and dance in this special place.

The Garden

I sit here in the garden

Surrounded by beauty

I am transported

A feeling of otherness

Away from petty thoughts

Small human wastefulness

The plants have the same motives

To live, to procreate, to die

To give some beauty

To give something back

We sometimes forget our motives

The garden never does.