Short Story – Papa and The Bertrand Brew House

Photo by Josh Olalde on Unsplash


Cappy survived the electrocution.  

It was torture.  Not stuff of Guantanamo Bay legend.  The torture was not being able to use my hand, Cappy remembers saying as he turned over his calloused hand and listened to some pencil pusher tell him how the world worked.

The engineer who had signed off on the project, saying that it was ready to remove the old boiler, forgot to disconnect the power in the mechanical room.  And Cappy got zapped with a near lethal dose of 240 volts three years ago.    

“Ok.  Ok.  I will.  Ya, you too,” said Cappy, hanging up the phone.  He looked through the streaked windshield but was talking to his supervisor Sammy on his right.

“They agreed that we can bill them for the extra labour.  The fuckin moron hadn’t even read the contract when he signed it.”

Sammy just sat there.  He could feel it coming even though it hadn’t happened in something like a year.

“I just want to rewind the movie of my life to the day before I get electrocuted and just be there with that dumb ass engineer, and just ask him, ‘yo bro didya double check that the power got disconnected?’  And then when we both see that even though on his little officey clipboard it has his signature with his little P.Eng number right under it, that the fucker didn’t do his job.  And I can see his reaction and look im right in the eye and say, ‘Bro!!?  What the fuck?!”

Sammy had heard Cappy’s rant a thousand times.  The vitriol towards the engineer, the engineering company, against life was on a gradual decline.  Sammy didn’t clench his stomach anymore when he accompanied Cappy down this road.  

Sammy waited a few seconds before saying, “You done?”

Cappy looked over at Sammy, the four days of whiskers slide across the collar of his hi-vis orange coat.  “Ya.  I’m done.”

“Ok great.”  Sammy rubbed his hands together and then cupped them to blow on them.  It was more theatre to break the moment and get a move on as opposed to actually needing to warm them up.  “So now ya think you might be able to throw yer fancy truck into drive.  That will help me get a little bit closer to my cup of coffee and my breakfast sandwich”

“Why in the world are you gonna get a breakfast sandwich?  It’s noon.”

“At this rate I’m not gettin anything if we keep sittin here.”

After fifteen minutes of idling during the phone call Cappy finally started driving and as a joke slammed on the brakes while they were still in the parking lot.

“Whoa, bro, settle down.”

“You’re a fuckin joy to work with,” joked Cappy. 

“I can see why your wife keeps sending you to work.  She doesn’t want to have to look at your irascible face all day.”

“Wow.  Irascible.  That’s a big word.  Do you need to take a nap now?”

Sammy laughed hard as he looked out the passenger door window and saw the temps coming down the stairs . 

The boiler extraction had gone sideways because they couldn’t get the bin up to the loading dock to just dump all the metal. They had to hire some temps just to unload the debris from the indoor cart, carry it down the loading dock stairs and reload it into an outdoor cart so they could take it around the corner of the building because that was the only place they could put the bin because they weren’t permitted to block any of the loading bays.  It was a shit show. 

It had actually been decent weather for February.  Minus 15 degrees or so Celsius.  The temps made a good team and got it done.  A temporary worker wants to impress the boss so they offer him full time work so it can actually work out really well for all parties.

Cappy got a pretty good pay out in the settlement with the engineering firm.  They still do business together but who knows what happened to that forgetful engineer.  

Cappy could’ve retired with his union pension and the payout but what would he have done.  At the time of the accident he was 59 years old and didn’t golf.  Even if he did he wouldn’t have been able to hold a driver properly.  After 2 months of moping around the house his wife sent him back to work.

It made him famous.  They wrote articles about him in construction safety journals and engineering publications.  Even the guys taking down the perimeter fencing at one job site grew his legend:

“That’s the guy …”  

“Wow!  How is he still alive?”

“Much less working.”

“And at his age he should be at home.  Unless his wife can’t stand him”

“How many watts was it?”

“Two watts?”

“Is that a lot?”

“Man, he is livin on borrowed time.”

“I’ve seen him before, what’s his name?  I think I worked on the bridge repair with him years and years ago.”

“They call him Cappy.”

“Like as in Capitain.”

“I guess.”

Sammy visited Cappy at the hospital daily after the accident.

“We’re amazed that Mr. Moravic survived.  And to be honest a little worried that he is so adamant he is going straight back to work after such a massive jolt of electricity lit him up,” explained the doctor.  “We want to hold Mr. Moravic for observation for an extra few days.”

“Ok doc, he’s all yours.

“They don’t make em like that anymore,” said the doctor. 

“Ya, Marty’s old school all the way,”  agreed Sammy.

 I am just so amazed.  And very happy for Cappy.”

“Cappy?  Who’s Cappy?”

“Ya they nicknamed him Cappy”

“Why would they do that?” asked Sammy.

“He shouldn’t be alive much less lucid after getting fried like that so we are bringing all our interns to come and see him so they can have first hand experience with his case.  This group of interns gets a kick out of giving the patients nicknames.  They don’t tell the patients.  I really shouldn’t have told you,” said the doctor.

“But, what does Cappy mean?” 

“Ya, of course.  Well you probably know better than me but capacitance is the ability to hold an electrical charge.   And your boss can hold more charge than anyone we have ever seen.  And lived to tell about it.  So they called him Cappy for capacitance.”

Sammy thought this doctor was a real cowboy.

“And what are the side effects and timeline to recovery and all that?”

“He will need to come back in for revision in two weeks and once a month for 3 months and then we can give him the all-clear to go back to work.  Or not.  Depending on his progress.  We have to ensure there are no motor or cognitive issues.”

“Three months?”

“Well he can do stuff.  He just can’t work for the time being.” 

“He is going to be bouncing off the walls,” said Sammy.

 I can see that he is such a hands on guy that he might get a little antsy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Ya he has been somewhat impatient already, said the doctor”

“”Ya, and he is only getting more irritable the longer he isn’t working.  You might see him again.  If he has to stay home for very long his wife will start throwing pots and pans at him.”   

Tomas was Veronica’s dad’s name so she wanted to honour him by naming their first born after him.  Five years later Cappy liked the name Bertrand for his second son.  Tomas is a lawyer who moved to Ottawa to work in government so they don’t see him too much.    Tomas looked for a job in Ottawa because first Sheri landed a job out of law school working on intellectual property law.  Tomas got a job in the Department of  Innovation, Science and Industry.  Veronica doesn’t like such a long name or that his wife took her son so far away.

Veronica tells Tomas, 

“Are you losina weight?  Cherry should start to cook a little for you,” Veronica mis-pronounces Sheri’s name on purpose.  Even though she has been in Canada for over 40 years Veronica still blames it on her accent.  It used to drive Tomas crazy but now he just glosses over it.  He just visits by himself because Sheri called her relationship with his mother temporarily suspended in the best interest of everyone.  Sheri came for the funeral but hasn’t been back since.  

“She is just as busy as me working so I can’t just expect her to …”

“That’sa right.  It should just naturally be what she wants to do.  Anda do it,” interrupted Veronica as she stirred a steaming stew on the stove to prove her point.  Veronica gets all theatrical with her old country accent when she feels she is being left behind by her sons.  By life.

“Anyway Cherry is no a very good cook so maybe it’s even betta, that Cherry doesn’t cook so much.”  Veronica stuck to her one more time.

“Ma, Sheri is a good lawyer and focused on her career.  Plus, Sheri makes more money than I do.” Both Veronica and Tomas know he never says she when he talks to his mom about his wife just so his mom knows he doesn’t accept her mom’s pronunciation. 

“Ti in tvoj denar.  Just like your papa,” said Veronica.

“Ma, that’s totally unfair.  I gave Bertie twenty thousand for his brewery business.”

“Twenty?” said a surprised Veronica.  “Your papa told me you gave only ten.”

“Only ten?!  It’s a lot of money, ten thousand dollars!   Listen ma.  I told papa I gave Bertie ten in case, if papa were to ask Bertie if he can help that you wouldn’t feel pressured to give more if I had given more.   Also I figured if I gave him twenty then maybe he would feel what he brought to the table and that he wouldn’t take money from you and papa.” 

“We gave ten.  I wanted to lend them more money but papa said no-no-no. ” said a proud Veronica.

“Have they paid you back yet?”  asked Tomas.

“Mashee, don’t be like dat!”  Veronica scolded Tomas using his childhood nickname.  But, yes they had.

The other son, Bert, partnered with a friend from college and they started their own microbrewery.   The brewery was just getting off the ground when he died.  Killed by a drunk driver on a beautiful spring night as Bertie rode his bike home after visiting his new girlfriend.

The closure, as a couple, they never had about Bertie’s death has felt like a really bad hangover since he died.  It was the drunk driver who did all the drinking and now Cappy and Veronica feel like shit everyday.    Cappy couldn’t deal with the stupidity of it all. So he boxed up his grief in a strong box and purposely forgot the combination to the lock.    

Bertie had been a really good soccer player in highschool but lost interest after no American schools gave him a scholarship.  Upon graduation he immediately focused on learning about business.    He took business courses at night at the college campus downtown.  Even though it was easy to take on-line courses he liked doing the group work so he could meet girls.  He also met Chad at school.

Chad and his dad Ross brewed beer at home as a hobby for years.  Chad and Bert put together a business plan and took it to Ross.  Ross put up most of the money.  Bertie needed three credits for his diploma when they signed the lease for the brewery. Between working full time, opening up a brewery and his new girlfriend finishing a college diploma took a back seat.

With all the supply chain delays they had to postpone the opening of the brewery so for the last six months Bert worked at Chad’s dad’s accounting firm learning the ropes of corporate taxation.  Bert was more of a numbers guy, Chad was the beer guy and Chad’s half brother Brad was supposed to be the marketing guy.   Brad came up with a cheesy name and logo for the brewery but after Bert died they decided to call it The Bertrand Brew House.

Through the church Veronica tried to get Cappy to go to grief counselling.  Then they tried anger management as a back door to get Cappy to talk.  Cappy stonewalled them all.  Gently enlacing his massive fingers on his friendly belly he would just sit there.  It’s not that he didn’t listen to them.  He actually couldn’t hear them.   He generated a force field to block out anyone who wanted to fix him.  He doesn’t even remember the funeral.  No one saw him get drunk and weep, look at pictures of Bertie or even scream in anguish at the gods demanding to know why.  He just couldn’t deal.  

Almost two years after Bertie was killed, Cappy got electrocuted.

That is why Veronica doesn’t want Cappy at home.  When he’s home it’s like there is a pinata filled with grief hanging from their living room ceiling, slowly swinging back and forth like when the air conditioning is on.  And what Cappy just needs to do is grab the stick and bash, smash and crash that pinata.  Make it bleed sweet grief.  And rejoin the party.

The coffee shop is buzzing with Saturday afternoon millennials typing and talking into their laptops.  Sitting down with his brother-in-law Paulo Sammy gets distracted by all the attractive young women sipping chai latte thingamajigs and just stops talking mid sentence.

‘“Focus Sammy Focus,” said Paulo.

“Bro, I think I am officially old.  The girls are so young and …”

“So you called the ambulance and …,” prompted Paulo. 

“Ya so anyway, I went to the hospital with Cappy.  We’re in the ambulance and I am just shitting myself.  I am practically yelling at him, Don’t die you stubborn fuck. And the paramedic guy says for me to cool it.  So I’m looking at Cappy lyin’ there thinking  Marty, If you are gonna be stubborn – today is the day – now is the time – you’re gonna live.   In those days we still called him Marty.  Cappy refused to die like the stubborn mule that he is.  

“Once I knew he was gonna make it I went over to his house to speak with his wife.  So I go get my truck and I’m driving over there.  Actually I am amazed that I didn’t get in a car accident.  You know when you are imagining something inside your mind and that is where all your focus and your consciousness or whatever goes.   Then you are just totally on autopilot.  Well, that was me driving all the way to his place imagining how I was gonna tell Veronica Cappy was in the hospital.”

“At least you didn’t have to give her worse news,” said Paulo. 

“True enough.  Anyway I was so surprised when he asked me about you,” said Sammy.

“Well, I am happy to be of service if I can help.  I’m pretty sure I met Martin, or Cappy, years ago at your place for a barbecue, a birthday party, something like that.”

“Ya, I think so too,” said Sammy.

“So according to you what would be a good result from our meeting?”

“Cappy needs to talk.  After that if he commits to follow up or something with you that would be awesome.”

“Would you say he is reserved or introverted?

“No.  We have great banter at work.  He’s just, gotta get comfortable and feel that you, or whoever, is sincere.  Not yankin his chain.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“Ya, and I doubt he will do the whole small talk thing; how are the wife and kids.  I think he will want to … Hey there he is.”

Sammy and Paulo stand up and shake hands with Cappy.

“Grab a seat there handsome,” Sammy directs Cappy who was dressed in his church clothes:  checked button-down long sleeve, v-neck sweater and his navy blue windbreaker.  

“Cappy.  You remember Paulo.  He was saying you guys met at my place one time.”

“Hey Cappy.”  Paulo felt weird calling him that.

“Paulo, how ya doin.”

“Can I get you a coffee?” Paulo asked Cappy.

“Green tea if they have it.”

“Since when did you start drinking green tea?” asked Sammy.

“Coffee is giving me bad heartburn all the time and my family doctor said green tea is good for me”

“Green tea it is,” said Sammy.  “Let me get this.  Paulo, did you want anything?” 

“No I’m good, thanks,” said Paulo.

“It’s one of those March days ya know when the warm sun on your face feels great but once you turn the corner and you are in the shade of a big building it drops like 10 degrees.”  Cappy is talkative because he is happy it’s spring which means the days are longer so they can work later.  

“I guess I should call you Cappy.”

“Ya.  Your knucklehead brother-in-law over there just had to go tell anyone who would listen about that nickname they gave me in the hospital.  And now here we sit.  It stuck like flies to shit.”  

“Cappy it is.”

“Doc. listen. You’re a doctor right?”

“No, I’m a psychotherapist.”

“Sammy told me you were a doctor.”

“It’s confusing, all the different titles.  A psychiatrist is a doctor.  I focus on behaviour change through something called Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy.  All that means is we talk about options for how you are going to grow.”

Cappy was almost stunned by the word grow being applied to him and not referring to his round belly.

“Keep talkin.”

Short Story – Timber

Photo by Callum Hill on Unsplash

“Hey, let’s go grab a beer and wings at the pub.  They probably have the Leaf game on.”  said Stan.

“Wow, ok, ya dad.”  Tim said. “ But where’s mom?”

“She went over to visit your Aunt Magda.”

“Again?”

“Nothin to worry about.  Grab your coat.”

Stan poured them both more beer from the pitcher. 

“Thanks dad.”  Tim said without looking up.  Stan had trained himself to savour those phrases.   Tim really liked this father-son moment sitting at the bar watching the game and licking the bbq sauce off their fingers.

“Ya know, one of the other sales guys at work says his numbers are down because of the pandemic.  Everyone else’s have gone up.  What do you think is going on with that guy?”  Stan asked. 

“Dunno.  Lots of factors: pandemic, budgets, competition.  Or it could be something personal”

“Exactly.  Those are the same factors for all salespeople.  So why would his sales be lower?” 

“OH yes.  Oh, no.  Shit, nice stop by the New York goalie.  Nylander should have gone 5 hole.  Sorry dad. What was the question?”  

Stan made himself busy gnawing on a chicken wing.

“Right, why are this one guy’s numbers lower than the rest of you?  Ummm.  Well I don’t know the guy personally so it is tough to say.” Tim distanced himself from the question.

“He doesn’t know what he wants.”  Stan said.

“Well, who actually wants to sell industrial racking systems?”  Tim grabbed another wing from the plate between them with a rapid glance at his dad.  “I mean does it bring him satisfaction?”

“With all these Amazon fulfilment centres mushrooming up all over the place it is an amazing opportunity to build a career.”

“Are you suggesting that I apply for a job there?”

“If that is what you want.”  Said Stan.  “You see, I don’t see you passionate about graphic design.

“Well, in a way, you’re right.  It’s my entrance into the gaming world and the whole Metaverse and NFTs.  Remember I explained that whole scenario to you.”

“I remember you told me Eminem invested thousands of dollars in a pdf.” 

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“My point is Tim, it has been a year and a half since you finished high school and I haven’t seen any, you know, growth.  I see you in your gaming chair and hear you scream when one of your buddies shoots you.  But don’t hear anything about your on-line courses.  I haven’t had you come up to me with a notebook and specific questions you have for growing a business or finding clients.”

Tim wiped his fingers with that noxious moist towelette they give you and grabbed his beer, 

“So what happens now?” He arched his back after being hunched over his plate of wings and looked straight ahead at the big screen tv.

“You start paying rent the beginning of May.”  Stan said

They stared at the same screen but were miles apart.

“If you want to go to college, for graphic design or anything else, I will pay 50% of the tuition while you live at home.  And at that point we can negotiate the rent.”

“That was over two years ago.” Said Tim grabbing another nail from his pouch.

“So whadaya wanna do, bro?”  Asked Manuel 

“I wanna buy a house.  I dunno, maybe flip it.  We’ll see.

“So what’d your dad say when you told im that?”

“Well of course I didn’t talk to my dad the whole Uber ride home like any self respecting 20 year spoiled brat would do.  Then lying on my bed with a pleasant beer buzz.”

“Wait, who says pleasant?” Interrupted Manuel. 

“Hey, it’s my fuckin story pal?”

“And who says pal?”  Manuel teased.

“Do you want me to push you off this fuckin floor?  Pal?” 

“Chill bro, chill.”  

They were framing the second story of this new house they had been working on for 2 weeks.  They were supposed to have finished by the end of October but they didn’t get started till the beginning of November. And still the general contractor was putting pressure on them.  But it wasn’t their fault.  The general contractor didn’t want to pay such a high price for the lumber so he delayed hoping the price would go down.

The price didn’t go down so that backfired and Tim and Manuel had to pick up smaller jobs in the meantime.  Tim had signed up on one of those handyman apps.  It was called Odd Man.  Horrible name but they paid.  He wasn’t supposed to because he was in the union.  And the thing was the local carpenters’ union had worked out really well for him.

That Friday night Tim went out with his gaming buddies Raf and Tony.   They were attempting to meet women so they were at a bar with Tony’s sister and a few of her friends.

“So chillin there, on my bed with a mild beer buzz I felt the house really, I don’t know, empty without my mom there.  I grabbed my phone but focusing on that kind of killed the beer buzz and only made me angry.” 

“Angry?  Why?”  Asked the friend of Tony’s sister. 

“I have lots of reasons, bro.”

“I’m not your bro.”

“Sorry, man.  Sorry again”

“Like…?”

“Like what?”

“Like what reasons.”

“Like… Well in this case ‘cause my dad was harpin on me about my entire future right.  Anyway, I, like I say, I don’t know but I was driving myself crazy so I went down the hall and my dad was reading at the kitchen table and I said,

“Hey dad …?”

“Tim…”

“Sorry for not, you know, for not talking to you on the Uber ride home.”

Stan looked at Tim slouching in his dropping sweat pants that had never seen a drop of sweat in their life.

“I remember, I took a big breath making me stand up straight and I said, 

“What about Marco, Vince’s son?  You said he joined the carpenter’s union and makes good coin.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s what I want.  To make some good coin.”

“Give him a call.” 

“I don’t have his number.”

“He lives right around the corner.  Knock on his door.”

“Dad, nobody knocks on anybody’s door these days.”

“Then be a nobody.”  

“And that was over 2 years ago.”  Tim said.

“So,  Are you a nobody?” She asked.

“Look at my hands.  Are these nobody’s hands?”  Tim displayed his scratched hands, palm and back, to Trish, the friend of Tony’s sister, for her to appreciate his calluses and cuts.  

Trish put her phone in her back pocket “Look at my hands.  Are these the hands of a nobody?”  Turning over her manicured hands, palm and back for Tim to appreciate her silver rings and bright red fingernails.

“Those are the hands of …”  Tim had nothing.

“The hands of the cute young woman at the bar you are going to offer to buy a drink.”

“That is … exactly correct.”  Said Tim, briefly bowing his head.  “What’s your poison?”

“You sound like a bartender,  You’re not a frickin bartender.”

“Ok.  Hey there cute young woman with ravishing red fingernails,  can I interest you in a beverage?”

“That was cheesy but better.  I’m going to the bathroom.  Order me something you think I would like.”  Trish nodded to one of the other young women in the group of friends of the sister and they headed to the bathroom.

Tim turned to the bar.

“What’s your poison?”  The bartender asked.

Tim shook his head quickly.  

“Did you see the woman I was talking to?  What do you think she would like to drink?”

“I actually don’t recall seeing her specifically but you can’t go wrong with a Tom Collins.”

“I’ll get one of those and another pint of Creemore?”   

“Do you remember my name?”  Trish asked as she accepted the drink.

“Do you know my name?”  Tim countered.

“Tim.”  Trish placed the limp slice of lime on the napkin on the bar and sipped the Tom Collins.   “Your turn”

“I don’t … recall.”  Said Tim, copying the bartender.

“Do you live with your parents?”  

“If you can believe it I would prefer the answer to be yes.  I’m trying to save up to buy a house.  I actually live with 2 other guys in a shithole with a filthy bathtub that hasn’t been cleaned in months.”

“Then clean it.”

Alcohol Intelligence is the original AI.  It has been the modus operandi of many a shy/angry/ill-equipped-for-life man.  It has worked well in the moment thousands and thousands of times.  It has damaged lives thousands of times.  It is the algorithm of getting sufficient alcohol into the body of at least one of the participants so they disconnect from reason, standards and dignity leading to sex within the first night, if not hours, of meeting each other.  Whether they want to or not.  

This, not surprisingly, was Tim’s default strategy.  He had not encountered any other creative techniques for flirting .  Stan was a good father/husband in that he was there day to day.  He provided.  Regardless, he didn’t know how to speak about women with his son.  Which is a major reason why now, at the bar, Tim was preprogrammed to align all mental and verbal efforts towards sex tonight. 

“Tina ..?”  Tim raised his eyebrows making a stab at her name.

“Trish.”  Trish wished Tim would stand up straight.  Three beers in, Tim wished he could smell her long back hair.  

“Trish, you wanna get outta here?”  

“And go where?  To your place.  Not until you clean it.”

“Why me?  I am waiting for my lazy roommates to clean it.  We all have our responsibilities in the home.  I am responsible for the kitchen.  Raf, did you meet Raf?  That’s him in the brown Atari t-shirt still holding his first beer of the night – he takes care of the garbage/sweeping mopping and shit like that, and that guy beside Raf …”

Trish shook her head and then leaned in to look into Tim’s eyes to make him stop.

“And why in the world would I be interested in your dysfunctional bro show in Nerdia?” 

“Bro show in Nerdia?”  Tim’s brain was temporarily blocked as her cool blue eyes hijacked his arterial system.  “What the fuck is Nerdia?”

“Oh that is what we call the imaginary place a gamer’s mind goes to when he enters his video game zone.  It’s a combination of nerd and Narnia.”   

“It sounds like you are pretty proud of yourself for coming up with that … title.”

“It works doesn’t it?”  Trish smirked with her eyes and sipped from the pink paper straw.  “I can tell you actually like the whole idea of having your own little niche in the Metaverse.”  Niche got its own punctuation: a wrinkling of the nose 

“Are you actually talking with me or am I like that half dead mouse that a cat plays with?”

“You did pretty well with the drink.”  Trish referred to the Tom Collins not wanting another one but wanting to keep Tim’s focus on her. 

Monday morning was light years away from the here and now of Friday night at the bar.  Right now Tim was the man of the moment.

“Timber or lumber.  What’s the difference?  Tim asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”  Manuel puffed out clouds of steam in the cold morning.  He hated working outside in the cold so he came to work pissed at Woodley, the GC because he delayed the project to save a few bucks and they ended up framing outside in late November. 

“You’re right it doesn’t matter,  It’s just I like to learn stuff, to understand stuff.” 

“What a fuckin waste of time.” 

Tim stopped hammering for a second as he felt the bubble he was in after going out with Trish again on Sunday afternoon was now being burst.   

“The problem with you is you’re a lazy paycheck to paycheck typical idiot.”  Tim puffed.

“Do you lay awake thinkin all these high school insults?”

“You’re worse than the fuckin spolied Canadians.”

“What de fuck you talkin about pendejo feo? Yer Canadian.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin about.”

“If it was my choice, I’d fire your lazy, insubordinate ass.”

“Insubordination?!  What are we in the fuckin army.”  Laughed Tim.

“Shut your face and pass me another 2×4 before I freeze to death.”  Manuel said.

“Entitlement is usually reserved for white trash Canadians, not immigrants who usually have a better work ethic.  Unless they hate their parents.  Do you hate your parents?”

“What the fuck.  I’m bein paid to frame fuckin houses.  Not be psychoanalyzed.  This is bullshit.  Esto es una mierda.”  

‘Someone always ends up paying for the bullshit of others’, Tim thought as he dropped his toolbelt with a thud on the plywood floor of the open second story.  Their friendly barbs had never landed them actually angry at each other.   

He didn’t really need to take a piss but he needed to create some space between the two of them.  He learned this technique from his dad.  Also it would put him in a better mood because he just loved the inventive names the portable toilet companies had like Willy Make it, or Royal Flush.  The one at the end of the driveway was Urinbiz.

“Here.”  Manuel made up with Tim by getting him a coffee he didn’t ask for.

“Thanks bro.”

“Bro, this is the last job I do for Woodley.  If you wanna keep workin wit em, man it’s totally your right.  But me bro, this is my last. I’m done”  As Manuel sipped his double double he was holding onto a loose 2×4 like it was a small tree.  He let it go and as it began to fall he said in a whispered yell,

“Timber.” 

Final Excerpt of short story – The Coffin

Photo by Roseanna Smith on Unsplash


His husband love got overtaken by business.  In the moment he justified his focus on growing the business.  And his children’s inheritance will prove he was successful – was his mental argument he would have with himself, as he raked leaves or swept the driveway – as a way to  assuage the discomfort of regret.

Gord felt he didn’t have the connection with his children for the same reason as when they were growing up he was growing his business.  Selling plumbing supplies came easier to him than being there for his children.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there. It’s that if he didn’t grow his business no one else would.  Plus this business put food on the table and would pay for university as long as he kept his foot on the gas and didn’t let up. 

‘There are different kinds of love, sweetheart!’  Gord remembers growling over his shoulder at Linda.  His teeth were clenched down hard perhaps in an attempt to not let these silly words out.  He can see it now.  They were in their bedroom one Saturday morning when he was getting ready for work instead of taking Phil to hockey practice and teaching Martha to skate and buying the groceries with Sue.

‘Of course there are different kinds of love.’  Linda was paused by her absolute frustration that her good husband still didn’t get it.’  That’s the point!’  Linda schooled Gord looking him right in the eyes as he buttoned his shirt.  Linda’s abstention from swearing gave her message that much more ummph.  She was no longer in an argument with him but had already transported herself to how it was going to feel in the car later that morning as she drove Phil to Saturday morning hockey practice instead of his dad. Gord could feel Linda’s disappointment but he couldn’t somehow say he was sorry.  Because, he told himself in the moment some 35 years ago, he wasn’t sorry because he was supporting his family.  This memory, and others, were the life recordings that went through Gord’s mind as he would slowly sweep the clean front walk of its minimal weekday dirt.  

In the few years since the death of his wife Gord had this urge to connect with his family so they know their unique value.  Therefore his anchored vision project.  Yes it would have been easier to say he loved them.  And that if he had failed in some ways as a father he was sorry.  But that would have been like the first route he walks in the mornings: short and simple and gets the job done without complications.

Mercifully Gord heard the toilet flush all the way down the hall which yanked him out of his swamp of regret. 

‘It’s all very spiritual and transformative and, and, and earthy.’  Cedar vibrated her hands at her sides as she sat back down to show Gord how she was impacted by their chat.

‘Yes but without the sweat lodge.’  Gord fake laughs quickly. ‘ Or if you want the sweat lodge go for it.  That was never my thing.’  Gord was trying to be funny in case he was coming on too strong.

‘What was your thing GG?’ Cedar asked, using her position as the preferred grandchild to be so direct.

‘I …’  Gord’s shoulders briefly pumped up and down as he gazed out the kitchen window looking out over the driveway and leaned back into his personal journey.

‘My thing would be whatever my thing was at the time.  One thing at a time.  When your grandmother was sick, that was my thing.  When I started my business, that became my thing.  When each child was born, that was my thing.  But, as the years went on, with each child it was less of a thing.’  Gord paused and looked into Cedar’s eyes because Cedar’s mother Martha was his third and last child.  They could both feel that this could be taken to mean that her mother’s  birth and existence amounted to less than the birth of her two older siblings.  

“You mom being the third wasn’t loved less by any means.  There was just, I don’t know, more going on and as parents we weren’t petrified as we were when your uncle Phil was born.’ 

Cedar was the third child as well.  By 7 minutes.  Her twin brother Red went to the light before she did.  

Was I less of a thing? Cedar had never even thought of it.  In the moment she felt good about being a twin, or having Red as her twin because of how it echoed her existence.  Gord saw her face quickly disappear inside of herself but didn’t grasp she was cherishing her birth not feeling any anger for getting the bronze medal.  She was very happy to be on the podium.

‘You and Red were born at the same time so you were a big deal.  A lot of diapers.  Jack loved being your older brother, he was like a mini dad organizing your toys, helping you walk.

‘Actually when your mom told me she was having twins I thought it was great.  But then she said, I have to confirm it with the doctor.  And that always stuck with me.  How did she know?  Now Gord was lost inside his mind where fireworks were going off of beautiful family memories.  And then, as it had come to be a recent habit, it circled quickly back around to Linda.

‘Your grandmother always loved the whole mystery of giving a child a name.  It gave her joy and energy so for me I couldn’t see how others saw it as overbearing or imposing.  Anyway it would be an innocent imposition.  She would bring her little notebook and look into her child’s eyes for a clue – then look to the sky for inspiration. She really loved doing it and thought it was her role to participate.   Martha says it was the only time she saw her mother write.  That wasn’t true.  Martha just felt that they were her children and she, plus her husband, had the ability to name them.’  

‘So how did she know?’  Prompted Cedar for more information on her mother being a young mother.  She wanted to admire her mom as the young, dynamic woman she could see in family photos before she was transformed into a bossy mom.

‘Know what?’

‘That she was pregnant with twins?’  The juicy confessional type of conversation with GG was so novel and satisfying.

‘I didn’t really capture that.  Martha came up with your names before your grandmother could really process that there would be twins and get her motor running, so to speak, on what could be possible matching names.  And truth be told, the names Red and Cedar that your mom had already come up with were so far off Linda’s screen that, well there was nothing to say really.’’

‘So my mom came up with the idea for our names?’  Cedar couldn’t remember asking and hadn’t really ever wanted to get into it.  Her brother had a bit of a hard time because his name was Red but as life would have it Cedar got the red hair of the two.  It confused people that a guy named Red didn’t have red hair but he had a twin sister who did.  So they would get bullied in high school.  That’s what teenagers do when they are presented with something that is beyond their grasp.  They would stand up for each other but he was basically a wimp so he got brushed aside.  Guys would even just hug him instead of beating on him.  Beating on Red was so easy, it was comical.  

As a result, sometimes they would play down they were twins, and a few times even siblings.  There was no abandonment of one by the other.  It was actually an effective teenage social strategy.  It was a way to avoid ridicule.  They would retreat into the fact that they were twins born Geminis.  Twins squared.  It made no difference to anyone who wasn’t them but it just made the route to get to them emotionally more convoluted so it provided an extra layer of protection.  

But in the same breath, in high school her name gave her a way to sound different.  Which she liked because it mirrored the way she felt.  It also spiced up how she dressed and helped her come into her own style.  Tall with her long, wavy red hair she took on a Boho look that seemed to work for her.  

‘I remember your mom saying that she loved the red cedar trees because…’  Gord started.

‘Wait GG.  Actually, I think I will ask my mom about our names.  If you don’t mind.’  Even though she was eagerly soaking up the downloading of family history from her grandfather she stopped him.  

‘We haven’t avoided the conversation, we just made sure we never had it.’  Cedar explained to her grandfather.  As it came out of her mouth she could hear how lame it sounded, but it was basically true.

Cedar was glad she had dragged their good-byes outside because in that way it broke the proximity of the two of them that had grown around the kitchen table.  She didn’t want a hug so Cedar fumbled with buttoning her coat moving toward the door.  Cedar skipped down the stairs and they waved good-bye.   Cedar put in her ears buds as she turned right to catch the bus uptown.   As Gord stood on his front steps breathing the cooling November evening Cedar was reconnecting with the sound track of her generation.  Gord, GG, dad, daddy, hesitated.  He stood on the front steps of his fully paid off house, where 3 beautiful children knew innocence  and joy; where Linda, his wife would bring each of them home from the hospital and nurture them with sincere service that inspired and humbled Gord.

Waiting till after Cedar had turned the corner he then headed back to his garage.   The same garage where he started his plumbing business.  The same garage that was his first warehouse for his plumbing supply business.    This old man was in a negotiation with his own shoulders to determine if he walked back with the hunched shoulders of a defeated man who had nothing better to do than to test drive his coffin.  Or if he was an aging man engaging the role of elder as he addressed mortality with humility/fear/awe/respect.   

Gord was comfortable in his coffin.  It was only the second time he had laid down in it. He kind of felt like a Formula 1 driver slipping into their sleek race car. He had used his yellow measuring tape to get his height and width and depth.  Then he added 6 inches to each measurement.  It was snug, not cramped. 

Burn My Coal!

Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

Our collective human race behaviour imposes a pervasive impact on the well being of planet Earth. 

If someone insults us or a loved one we become instantly indignant.  Can we overlay that indignance onto our role in the quality of life of the planet?  Can we use our emotion for how we want to be treated and share it with the planet?  It might cause us to elevate our action of compassion.

If I said to you that someone is really ‘burning my coal’ what does that mean?

It means my past is being made more important than the present and the future.  

Let’s back up a little bit.  60 Million years, more or less.  Coal used to be a tree.  The coal we burn is getting power from dead plants and animals.   That tree died and during decomposition mixed with other ingredients as it was covered by successive layers of organic life.  

Plant Some Trees – Burn Less Coal 
Breathe More Air – Live Your Life

That tree is now participating in the transition of carbon into petroleum.  To us that petroleum is used for gas to run our cars, tires so our cars can move/planes can fly, our plastic pill bottles, synthetic fibres in clothes and vaseline.

To the planet, what is petroleum?  As we keep withdrawing petroleum from the viscera of the planet – her temperature has risen?  What’s the correlation?  Is it the burning of carbon that is the reason?  Well, we can say yes.  

Without diminishing the need to transition to renewable energy sources there is also another consideration.  That the planet had its own carbon offset program – by design.  More accurately the planet had control of its own thermostat by being able to cool itself.

Is it possible that the planet’s ability to remain cool has been impacted by the extraction of her coolant?  Is it possible?  We don’t even know?  

Perhaps petroleum is to the planet what HFC 134 (this gas replaced freon) is to your fridge.  Perhaps petroleum is to the planet what freon is to your air conditioner in your house.  Imagine your car on a hot summer day with the windows up and you have a leak in the hose from the condenser to the vents in your car.  It’s going to heat up pretty quickly.

Perhaps petroleum is to the planet what blood is to your heart. Imagine your heart with diminished blood flow?  That’s called a heart attack.  Is it possible that is what we are thrusting upon the planet?  Cardiac arrest!  We don’t even know?!

Let’s plant some trees so we can breathe fresh air.   Let’s use our past as a foundation for perception about what tomorrow needs.  Let’s align our satisfactions in our current Life Stage with our many communities (family, marriage, business, soul, body).  This way we can translate perception accurately so our actions today are congruent with a human development journey.  By definition a development journey is congruent with respecting the Great Mother, planet Earth.

Update Yourself With The Significance Of Your Name

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Before the butterfly can fly it was first born as something very different: a leaf munching caterpillar. Although they are the same creature they show very different natures. The caterpillar is pedestrian and the butterfly graceful. The caterpillar cocooned itself with the genetic knowing it will be reborn into a colourful butterfly. The beautiful butterfly is reliant upon the survival of the slow caterpillar. All three stages (caterpillar, cocoon, butterfly) are equally and uniquely valid.

As we grow our lives are layered with the residue of our experiences.  Each of the three names can accrue a greater potency as we learn which of those experiences direct us in the direction we want to go.  As we grow we discover how best to work in the world, refine what we want and how to live accordingly.

When you seem to have an unclarity of what you want or how to get it, that is a good time to reflect on your resources.  Or if  there is a feeling of having lost direction or connection it is time to pause.   It is very useful to review the role of each life within you that each of the three names represent.  As you grow so does the pertinence of your history.  As a child life decisions were made for you.  Now as an adult you make them.  This updating process  highlights the value of your attitude and vision to extract meaning from your past and apply it to your development.

This process of updating helps to find purpose in the daily striving and the life long journey.  It can take a load off of you in the moment to see the continuity of your life and harvest the life lessons and crystalize emotion of your experiences.  There is healing available in case we need to reframe a difficult childhood.   With a view to update your youth that now supports a development journey we can convert that difficult childhood from a wound into a strength. It can become the forging of a knowing that no matter the situation you find yourself in you bring unique value to the moment.  

In the wake of peace from 15 minutes of meditation or walking in nature consider the following:

Foundation Name – The function of your family growing up, companionship in school and playing/sports/trips, learning new skills. – Breathe in the reality that those experiences support your growth now.

Synthesis Name – The importance of your unique way of upholding the human experience including: your style, sense of humour, attention to detail.  Know that this is your fingerprint on the energy of life that you attract by the fact of your initiative and your human pedigree.

Mystery Name – Being creative with ways to stay curious about the pathways of energy: in the mind, of your high emotions, of the planet Earth and beyond.  This elevates into clarity of what is happening in the moment as it is unto itself (as opposed to things are happening to you).  This means you can load your elder life with your desire to be of service to your communities

In the updating process we will likely have many memories that make us happy, sad, angry and long for days gone by.  We can take advantage of the awesome attribute of the mind called memory.  It causes us to picture and feel our life history.  We can generate appreciation for those times and make them into the strength of our foundation for what we as an adult and elder want to do and be.  We can be grateful for the functioning of the body and its faculties for their accuracy of functioning in constant support of our life. 

Simple ‘Sistem’ To Write Your Own Story

The message is simple – the execution not so much.

Robert Downey Jr. is Peter Highman in the 2010 movie Due Date. He ends up in a car travelling with the ideosyncratic Ethan Tremblay played by Zach Galifiniakis.

The movie is painfully hilarious. It showcases the talent of both Downey and Galifinakis. I imagine the director Todd Philips gave them a clear idea of where he each scene needed to get to and then let the actors loose.

Downey has had a very successful acting career becoming well known for the Iron Man trilogy. It feels good to see him accepting he is so talented and sharing those talents. It feels even better knowing he had to get over some pretty serious addiction issues at a young age. After being in and out of prison as a result of his reckless lifestyle he finally was able to rehab himself and re-construct his life and career.

No doubt he had to ask forgiveness from his wife and of himself.

As highlighted in the book Satisfaction (link below) an effective way to forgive, yourself or others, is to move on. To have something better to do than regret the past. To connect to some task that is stronger than the pull of bitterness from feeling hard done by. To rise above the inability for personal growth in the moment and accept that we can always be growing.

A very concise and effective mindset to participate in writing your own story is the Sistem Mindset.

Quite simply it is: Resist – Insist – Persist.

Resist the lower levels of life that want to rob you of your energy. That means resist pettiness, revenge, grudges, assumptions.

Insist on dignity. Yours. Theirs. Of a man. Of a woman. That means asking questions to understand why. This is coupled with finding a way to be understood for what you want.

Persist in growing. Grow as a man, as a family member, as a professional, as a human. This means knowing your focus is valuable (which is why Facebook/Google make so much money off their ads) and put it where it gives you a fulfilling result. Persist daily in your morning routine. Wonder out loud what is possible – you never know what your wife or children might have in mind. Read a book you already read to see what you didn’t grasp the first time; investigate on line classes, minimize something from your diet you know isn’t good for you and introduce a new vegetable you haven’t tried before.

Who knows what these three pronged Sistem might cause in your life.

The thing is the more we Persist in growing the easier it can be to Insist and Resist.

Link for the book Satisfaction: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1777691109

Experimental Forestry in Japan results to amazing Tree ‘Crop Circles’ half a century later — e MORFES

Aerial photos reveal groups of Japanese cedar trees swelling toward the sky, creating two forest circles. According to a 1973 document from the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry, and Fisheries, researchers had embarked on a project designed to examine tree spacing and its effect on growth. According to Japan’s Ministry of Agriculture, the height difference between the […]

Experimental Forestry in Japan results to amazing Tree ‘Crop Circles’ half a century later — e MORFES

Soul Workout – 1

Soul workout

Your soul loves its job. Your soul loves being your soul. It loves receiving the variety of information you deliver to it on daily and devotional levels.

Diana Akmetianova on Unsplash

Cardio exercise for your soul is you reading an interesting book, creative writing, gardening, nature connection meditation.

There are myriad ways you can do soul body building. In fact there are five aspects of your soul that you can work with.

Here is the first. Let’s call it White. To feed White you will Seek what’s next. You will have vision for how to grow and generate your own opportunities. Read books. Ask questions. Listen to interesting people.

Inside of what you hear and read seek to understand the motivation of others as you develop and refine your vision for your soul experience.

Ikka Karkkainen on Unsplash

Question: what do I seek – for my soul/ as a man/ for my marriage?

Be sure to heed what your ego wants and what your devotional life is nudging you towards.

Habit, Routine and Ritual

Like a flower has roots, stem with leaves and the flower carrying seeds, our scale of Habit-Routine-Ritual is a structure for growth.

Mike Labrum on Unsplash

Habits are the roots that connect us in daily life. Routines are the leaves that receive the light of today. Rituals are the flowers that are abundant with potential.

Habits are important because they are the foundation for growth. Routines are important because it is the stage that connects daily life with higher realms. Rituals are important because they are what makes us human. In your Rituals your human potential is enlivened by these higher powers. This higher source influences your sense of purpose thus creating the New You. The New You has greater clarity of vision and belief in human qualities that make their way into your habits and routines.

GMB Monkey on Unsplash

This is the daily/devotional relationship that ends up being your personal religion. With active and true Habits, Routines and Rituals your personal religion will flow into your Rituals. Your Way will overflow into your routines and rain on your habits.

What Is True Because Of You – 4 – High Heals

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Photo by Sarah Cervantes on Unsplash

I saw a documentary years ago about women boxers.

Some women who go to the gym and learn to punch for self protection.  Then there are those women who are professional boxers that live and train to fight.

And then there were the women that were the focus of this film. They are mothers and wives who have a full life and a full time job.  And they box. They get into it for personal motivations that are part of their story.

I remember the single mother, let’s call her Suzie, being interviewed as she put her kit in the back of the car. Late 30’s, 2 children, at least 1 ex-husband, very cheerful. And she hits other women. For exercise!

I can imagine that it functions as therapy. So can shopping. And unless it is Black Friday nobody hits anyone.

So the stress release involved in boxing that Suzie feels is quite clear to see. The training required puts her into great shape. The adrenaline and associated hormones of landing a nice right hook help to feed part of her female life. So actually there is a lot of upside. As long as you don’t get knocked out.

Is that it? What else does she get out of it?

Doesn’t her body pay a price? They do have to wear protective head gear etc. Doesn’t it hurt? Yes. And without being sadistic, that’s part of the motivation. Part.

When you get hurt your body takes over the healing process. Without delay or excuses, with precision and efficiency: It is how the human body loves.

Even between rounds the body of a boxer starts to heal.  Healing is miraculous and beautiful. And it feels good.

Suzie wants to feel good. Remember she is cheerful. With all of life’s challenges she has turned out to be a happy, middle-aged single mom (who you don’t want to fight over a parking spot):)

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Photo by Sarah Cervantes on Unsplash

When healing the white blood cells protect a wound from infection. They also produce chemical messengers called growth factors that help repair wounds.

Dopamine helps regulate new blood vessel creation in the healing process of skin wounds. More wounds = more dopamine.  Dopamine is a chemical in the brain that causes you to feel good.

Natural ways to generate dopamine are: exercise, meditation, sleep and certain foods to name a few.  Destructive ways to generate dopamine are: alcohol , drugs and related poor lifestyle habits.

Dopamine can help us heal and also be a factor in cementing a habit.  Whatever that habit might be: Smoking, drinking, boxing or getting hit by your boyfriend.

The hitting part hurts your face and damages your self esteem but the dopamine connects the whole process with getting better.  So some people end up using cocaine to get the dopamine.

Some women don’t leave the violent boyfriend so they can get hit again to get the feel good of healing dopamine.

Here is a crazy idea – that part of the difficulty of women to leave an abusive relationship is because, mixed up with their level of self respect, they kind of want the next fix of a neurotransmitter released in the healing process?

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Photo by Chris Ensey on Unsplash

Healing feels good. As it should – with all the goodies the body is generating. Don’t make healing from violence your source of feel good.

Instead …

Find something that pulls you up into Your Best Ego. Could be dancing, cooking, organizing, being a good mother, forgiving, inviting someone, highlighting someone else’s good trait in a difficult situation or having a connection moment with nature. Your Best Ego is you choosing for yourself how to live. Your Best Ego includes people that bring respect. Your Best Ego is at a level of energy that generates healthy sources of happiness. Your Best Ego seeks value to keep growing.

Be like your body and bring the growth factor; be the growth factor.

High heals.

It is true.

Is it true for you?

What Is True Because Of You – 2 – Standards Are Important

Kurt Vonnegut advised to ‘Start as close as close to the end as possible’.

The American writer had 8 Rules For Writing. Gems of guidance for creating an interesting story. The above is #5.

Kurt Vonnegut’s 8 Rules for Writing

Vonnegut’s writing put humanity on display – and it often wasn’t pretty.

Perhaps he was lazy. The closer you start to the end – the shorter the journey so the less you need to write. Perhaps starting close to the end is a story design method so the writer stays true to the intention of the story.

Jessica da Rosa on Unsplash

Each conversation is a story. Even if that conversation in a dark 30 seconds on a downtown street is between strangers, full of swearing, worrisome and in full public view. What happened was this big and tall guy darted in front of two walking women (mother and daughter) and ‘BOO!!’ he yells out of nowhere. The daughter screams back; her mother said don’t. Daughter pursued him down the sidewalk to share her fright but he wasn’t interested. He already got what he wanted and wasn’t about to listen. His sudden scare manoeuvre works to steal some good energy. In this case: Female energy; high potency anger energy; the beautiful energy of being the focus of the ‘conversation’. All of this makes him feel important and makes up for a lack of relationship in his life.

Dirty business tactics on his part. The business of energy management –

we are all in the same business of energy: give and take, diminish and elevate.

The big, tall guy on the dark, downtown street was using guerrilla tactics. And he started quite close to the end of the intention of his story – which was to steal good energy. It only took him seconds. End of story. For him.

Does that mean he is good at what he does; steal? Or that he has no art? No energy art.

What about the others in the conversation?

Priscilla du Preez on Unsplash

Still recovering from the disturbing encounter the mother was coaching her adult daughter as they resumed their journey. The residue on the daughter from the experience is anger. Next time ‘listen to your mother’.

And if her mother isn’t there next time then the daughter would do well to activate her strength of resistance. Meaning make the continuance of her life ( like the walking conversation with her mother) more important than a grown man who is blind to his own value (due to self esteem or illness).

Resist the low. Adhere to the high. You are important.  Standards are important.

Puerro Battistoni on Unsplash

So, tonight when you lay your head down – wonder – ‘what is true because of you?’

What do you want to be true because of you? This is like Vonnegut telling his students to start as close to the end as possible. If you have a good day what is the energetic residue? If you have a bad day, what is the energetic residue? If you are alone? If you are accompanied?

Close your eyes and know:

Because of you there is a marriage with a sense of loving and being loved;

Because of you a woman has no fear of violence in her marriage.

Because of you a colleague knows they are valued.

Because of you nature spirits flourish.

Because of you …

Life will jump in front of you and scream ‘BOO!’ now and again. When it does, resist the low. Maintain your standards that seek the good.

The Angry Young Men Series – 7 – Satisfaction and Fulfillment have been usurped by Blame and Guilt.

Angry young men might have a valid argument for having anger issues.

Christopher Campbell on Unsplash

Our golden retriever wasn’t very happy that my wife and I only took her on the short route for her evening walk. It was a chilly and windy December evening with the dusk fading rapidly. Returning home from the walk we turn left out of the elevator and our noses catch the smell of warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that flavours the condo hallway air.

Once in our kitchen I gulp down two still- soft cookie creations. A Gooey, messy, tasty sugar rush.

My daughter is now watching a movie, having made the cookies and feeling fulfilled at accomplishing the task she set out to bake. In relation to the same event I am in the kitchen breathing the deep breaths of satisfaction, having been cookied.

Meanwhile my wife is savouring a sense of various fulfillments. She was connecting with her husband on the evening walk thus responding to the urge of her romantic(and now married) life. Arriving home to a proactive daughter she fills with pride that cannot be measured yet that is vital to her sense motherhood.

All of this after a day of the demands and successes of a full day of work.

Joanna Nix on Unsplash

We are all responsible for seeking Satisfaction and Fulfillment in our lives. As children we receive the guidance of parents and teachers.

The gradual acceptance of responsibility for our words and actions is part of engaging adulthood.

If we can engage this next step in life with confidence, curiosity and healthy coping mechanisms then we will find satisfaction with a positive outlook.

If we aren’t ready to manoeuvre in the adult realms then we can feel overwhelmed and look to relieve ourselves of the weight of responsibility. An effective technique for getting that relief is blame. Blaming others. Reacting unconsciously because we haven’t decided to grow into My Best Ego. So we make someone else the creator of our reality. We convince ourselves there is almost no possibility we could have had control of the circumstances that brought us here.

Eduardo Dutra on Unsplash

Young men need to be able to watch adults manage life with agility. Meaning a challenge is what happens when you grow. Challenges don’t make us feel dumb or frustrated. The challenge is not the one we encounter on the road of growth – outside of ourselves. The actual challenge is how we react and deal with the situation.

Do we frame the challenge as a nuisance to pushed to the side ? And as a result do the minimum? Or do we apply belief in our abilities thus converting the same challenge into a springboard for growth?

Seeing the challenge as an external hassle means we are giving the pen that writes our life story to someone else.

However the challenge is actually a light that we can shine on our own qualities. To ensure we are grasping that same pen to decide the lines of our own life story.

Bertrand Colombo on Unsplash

So …

Grab the pen. Write your story.

Believe: in yourself, in your style of man, your kind of confidence, your version of strong, your adaptation of resourceful, your insight about elevating the expression of man.

Speak up about what you want. Speak out about what you feel.

Nurture your vision for tomorrow and Seek its Satisfaction. Offer to others a young man who knows what it takes to uphold a positive outlook even if the situation isn’t fair.

Planetary Arts Series – Mars

Photo Dwhani Bhavsar Unsplash

My teacher Elliott taught Xing-yi in the park. It was $10 a class or pay what you can. I think at least half the class took the second option. Most of us were 20 something new arrivals in Taos, New Mexico working in cafes or construction waiting for ski season.

This class was my first exposure to martial arts. Elliott was an awesome instructor. I remember he asked if I had any experience – ‘no’. He said that was usually better because I didn’t have any habits to overcome. I went for a few months that autumn and never returned.

However you could say I had been into martial arts most my life.

What is meant by that is illustrated in the following brief writing.

Martial Arts.

Bruce Lee was the man! He was the whole Hollywood package. Taking Kung fu to the people.

Martial Arts, if we break it down, could be said to be the Art of War at an individual level companioning the pursuit of peace at tribal level.

Fighting happens. We need to protect ourselves. Our community and at the same time each one of us. Because of the energies involved in the physical or strategic battles it can be very hard, coarse, adversarial, debilitating, draining. That does not mean it is artless. The very stress of the fight, battle and struggle calls for specific skills. If we can activate our skills of self management in war then we have the way to move beyond it. Fighting is a way to communicate what we value and is not a form of communication in itself. Meaning we are fighting for something. For safety or peace or integrity or dignity.

Photo Luca Ruegg Unsplash

Mars was the god of war from Ancient Rome which speaks to the tribal level of martial managment. The Chinese masters have brought forward with dedication through the ages the forms and sequences of self management of the energy of the red planet. Today we are equally tasked to manage what energy we attract, process and how we dispose of it. We dispose of energy in so many simple and natural ways: conversation, sleep, digestión and organ function in the body.

Photo Thao Le Hoang Unsplash

Said in a conceptual sense, Martial Arts are the system of cleaning, garbage and recycling. So in reality we could say planetary/environmental stewardship is a martial art. At which by majority we have been failing as a group. The human arts of these natural systems are qualities like: forgiveness, making important things important, humour, elevating vision, curiosity plus humility.

On a development journey Martial cleansing activity (yoga, tai chi, aikido) combines very well with the planetary arts of Mercurial vision or earth perception (topics covered in this series).

The art is of thinking ahead. Of engraving mental and emotional pathways in conjunction with life sequences of movements to process life in the moment. Thus maintaining focus on the journey without being sidelined by one’s own reaction or intrusion by bullying. These are forces that cannot grasp the need to hold the apparent contradiction of something in them and not pass judgement.

Photo Vijay Unsplash

Think about these three levels of engagement of your natural Martial art:

Low – not letting yourself get damaged but not being the author of your own story.

Medium – using what comes at you for you – think aikido.

High – using what comes at you to elevate your art of perception that powers your red art.

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This is a mental model for understanding what you seek with your language and actions, intentions and vision.

AI Versus the Juggler

Juggle.

AI cannot juggle.  As far as I know.  Tomorrow that picture can change.  I am updating this article in 2021 and I just saw a video on Youtube of a robot juggling. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9asDO_1A27U.

Kind of ruins my argument.  But if you watch the video there is no sense of focus and balance that a person applies.  It was impressively mechanical. 

                            Photo by Juan Pablo Rodriquez on Unsplash

 

The organization OpenAI has done really impressive work in the territory of robotic manual dexterity. But which robot has a reason to juggle? It has no reason to do so. On the other hand, we all juggle priorities like health, work, relationships and family, income and studying and maintenance of a home. AI is probably integrated into all of those aspects of

life but will never have an overarching need that goes into decisions that determine how the juggling of life is juggled.

So to keep control of our lives out if y the hands of robots we need lives that AI cannot touch. Yes robots and algorithms have their functions. Those functions are to get a result and use the result to get better at getting the next result. But there is no sense of elevating those functions to a transcendent goal.

So should we be scared about AI. You bet! A scan of the lifestyle of our global culture does not indicate that a higher purpose has been identified that influences education systems, youth and corporate, towards any sort of not for profit perception. Therefore we are in direct competition with robots for various functions.

Back to our juggler. She doesn’t look at each ball directly but looks forward to maintain all the balls in the air. Jugglers use a rhythm of letting go and grabbing so they can keep giving attention and direction to everything they have on the go. Whether that be 3 balls in the air or children, their own business, caring for aging parents, improving their education, finding a partner or possibly deepening their religious awareness.

Photo Brina Blum on Unsplash

Developing this religious awareness, or soul life, can open other doors; individually to feel less threatened by a machine and, as a culture we can create an array of service industries based on the thriving soul lives within us that seek learning for self development as a human.

I have an I.D.E.A.

This is a compact tool to focus your energy to get stuff done.  Actually you can also use it at the same time for feeling a sense of purpose.  You can use it in the morning to approach the day or reflect on your participation at the end of the day.  It assumes you are seeking help to meet the new you, the next version of you and share it with the world.   The experience can facilitate an updated sense of self and sense of belonging while also contributing to your various communities (the many inner lives, family, nation, society).

Ask yourself – What do I want? That is the I.  And do something about it.  That is the A.   When it has a positive impact on your day, your mood and helps you to learn and participate – That is the D.  When you follow through on your intention and it causes you to make decisions and ask questions that are based in your sense of connection – that is the E. 

That is I.D.E.A.   The idea is that as you go through you life you don’t have to stop and make your spiritual pursuit a separate life endeavour.  You can be crafty in making some degree of your professional life provide the foundation for your soul development.

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                                      Photo by Austin Wade on Unsplash
I is for Intention – What you want to do that day.  You can have various ‘small’ intentions that you check off your list in the course of your day.  Things as simple as saying ‘hi’ to someone whose attention you want at school or work; getting 10 likes on an Instagram post; helping someone feel better.  You can have an intention for the day, week, work, family, health, planet, …
D is for Daily– the impact of your intention in your daily life.  Keep it simple: you want to feel proud of your work, fulfilled you helped around the house, encouraged to repeat your intention.  Here daily refers to your maintenance life: making money, staying healthy, finding friends and companionship.
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                                    Photo by Sunyu Kim on Unsplash
E is for Elevated– the residue you want in your soul life.   This is the result of applying your skills and strengths towards your Higher self.  This is your unique response to the religious energy that arrives in your life because you have a soul.
This can sound ethereal, cheesy, intangible, like a waste of time, difficult or simply beyond your reference and experience.  That makes sense but at the same time is the moment to push through and do your homework of you.  The art of you is connecting your daily intentions with whatever your Higher Self is.  Or perhaps it is to let the sincerity of  your daily efforts support your Higher Self .
The key understanding here is in the word ‘elevated’.  This means above; above normal, beyond daily, higher than what passes in daily life as enough, more connected than habit.
How does one elevate?  Taking Action (see below) with an Intention (see above) that is greater than oneself.  Think: teaching, mentoring, volunteering.  I am reminded of the guy I would bump into some mornings while I was walking my dog.  He had the garbage collecting tool and a bag.  On his own time – usually 6 am – he would go down to the lake shore and collect garbage – beer cans and coffee cups by majority.  I thanked him and he was so appreciative of my recognizing his service – cheerful guy.  He told me there were others who did the same thing as him.  Awesome!!
That guy is elevating above himself to offer without counting the cost or looking for reward.
Providing that selfless service provides meaning or fulfillment and makes us happier and easier to deal with:)
A is for Action  – that you take that attracts positive energy.  Like Nike – Just Do It (swoosh).  Take action towards accomplishing your intention that at the same time feeds your various (daily and elevated) Human levels.  Repeat.
What’s the big I.D.E.A.?! – you are the big idea!!  Your growing into your development trajectory as you emerge out of puberty into adulthood and travel through middle age and arrive into elderhood.