To thine own self be true

There have been many (and the list doesn’t include my many gigs, or the many classical music concerts). The first group that I remember paying money to go see was Winnipeg’s own Chad Allan and the Reflections, Chad pictured on the left–in the middle, (later they became Chad Allan and the Expressions) and finally The Guess Who. I’ve met many of these artists after their shows and many have been kind and generous enough to sign items of their work. (e.g., the great singer-songwriter Janis Ian on right)

Folk-Country-Popular

Gordon Lightfoot (4)

Bruce Cockburn (10ish x)

Leonard Cohen

Ian and Sylvia (2)

Ian Tyson (4)

Donovan

Bob Dylan

Paul Simon

John Sebastian

Kris Kristofferson

Valdy (2)

Seals & Crofts

Joan Baez

Joni Mitchell

Buffy Sainte-Marie (3)

Judy Collins

Janis Ian

Suzanne Vega

Loreena Mckennit

Fred Penner (went to U of w with)

Blue Rodeo

Caludh Nua

Rawlins Cross (5)

Battlefield Band

Altan

Figgy Duff

Ranch Romance

Susan Jacks

Roger Miller

Kenny Rogers

Roger Whittaker

America

Ravi Shankar

Ray Charles

Charlie Pride

The Mavericks

Paul Anka

Randy Newman

Johnny Clegg (3)

Rock

The Guess Who (many times)

Burton Cummings’ Deverons (many times)

Randy Bachman (4)

Burton Cummings

B.T.O.

The Rolling Stones (2)

Steppenwolf

The Stampeders (2)

Eric Burdon (2)

Herman’s Hermits

The Who

Ray Davies & The Kinks (2)

The Hollies (2)

The Searchers (2)

The Zombies

The Yardbirds (2)

The Turtles

Sting

The Bee Gees

Eric Clapton

Elvis Costello

Paul McCartney

Neil Young

Beach Boys (2)

Felix Cavaliere (of the Rascals)

Billy Joel (2)

Everly Brothers

Chicago (4)

John Fogerty

Three Dog Night

Paul Revere & The Raiders

Iron Butterfly

Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention

John Mayall (3)

Jazz

Lenny Breau (many times in Wpg)

Steps Ahead

Peter Erskine Septet

Joshua Redman (2)

Roy Haynes

David Sanbourn

Mike Stern (3)

Dave Holland (2)

Oliver Jones

John Abercrombie

Jackie Maclean

Joe Lovano

Pat Martino

T.S. Monk

Nicholas Payton

John Scofield

Kenny Wheeler

Tony Williams

John McLauchlan

Ed Bickert

Bill Frisell

Lew Tabackin

Christian McBride

Jimmy Cobb

J.J. Johnson

The Yellowjackets

John Stetch (2)

Tommy Banks (2–performed with)

Charlie Austin Trio (several–performed with)

Andrew Glover (several–performed with)

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The ‘Regrets’ (A Short List)

Miles Davis

Stan Getz

Dave Brubeck

The Beatles

Manfred Mann with Paul Jones

Glenn Gould

Peter, Paul, and Mary

The Kingston Trio (the John Stewart version)

Johnny Cash

(edited reprint from August 30, 2012)

Simply put, someone or something either is or isn’t. He, she, or it exists and has being or doesn’t. You’ll recall that life starts and ends that way in the form of presence or non-presence. In school, students were either present or absent (that is, not-present). A feeling went with that. One either felt like one was there (in class) or wasn’t (as we or someone else noted an empty desk). In some cases, we were the ones who were not present–at home with the mumps, skipping class, and so forth.

But with the experience of being absent from the group at school came another impression and that was that presence was a subjective state and that one could still experience presence and the presence of absent others and other situations even when in a changed scene or setting. Presence was potentially something one felt, imagined, and experienced all on one’s own.

Presence was something experienced in relation to environments or contexts. One could be thought of as a presence within a family, also experiencing the presence of parents and siblings. Or one was aware of the presence of animals via owning a pet at home or visiting a zoo. Perhaps one experienced the presence of nature, as when stepping out into the freshness of morning air or when travelling to a memorable place such as the mountains or seaside. Poet William Blake said this best, perhaps: “To see a world in a grain of sand,/ And a heaven in a wild flower,/ Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,/ And eternity in an hour.” To know presence, then, is to connect and possibly transcend.

Most of us know, though, that presence is often or mostly transitory and ephemeral. And it is dependent ultimately on the presence of whichever people you choose to consider, including yourself. One day someone is there, another he or she is not, and connections and entire worlds are suddenly, conspicuously absent, vanished, or blotted out by such things as death or memory losses. There is great value, meaning, and purpose in the simple fact of lived, shared, and experienced presence, a fact often only more fully known, understood, missed, and appreciated belatedly. As Joni Mitchell once put it, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

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No connection is possible without others, without presence. Whatever each of us ‘is’, our presence and non-presence are experienced ephemerally and subjectively by others, and vice versa.

Regarding the previous piece about possibilities, as Heraclitus pointed out way back when, life process consists of nonstop change (even in things that seem permanent like works of art and architecture–certainly whatever infrastructure, people, and Nature). And so the myriad possibilities are themselves transitory or ephemeral (which is why Joseph Campbell was so adamant about responding to The Call). What is best (as previously discussed) is chosen by the individual. More on this by the eminent Viktor Frankl from his classic Man’s Search for Meaning:

“The only transitory aspects of life are the potentialities; but the moment they are actualized, they are rendered realities; they are saved and delivered into the past, wherein they are rescued and preserved from transitoriness. For in the past, nothing is irrecoverably lost but everything irrevocably stored.”

“Everything hinges upon our realizing the essentially transitory possibilities.”

“Man constantly makes his choice concerning of present potentialities; which of these will be condemned to nonbeing and which will be actualized? Which choice will be made an actuality once and forever, an immortal ‘footprint in the sands of time’? At any moment, man must decide, for better or for worse, what will be the monument of his existence.”

Evidence that I was here? Many possible answers. But in terms of existentially defining oneself and making meaning or finding purpose, Frankl’s words offer one key approach and central, underlying truth.

The bests–whether they be the bests of life, love, arts experiences, personal experience, nature, etc.–usually centre around imagined and then lived-out possibilities. There are, of course, many possibilities, but so, too many limited and limiting contexts and situations. Think here of a physical handicap, a world war, a life of poverty, controlling spouses, people buying wholesale into screen culture or trying to live out advertisements, etc.

And there is always, too, the factor of the individual–how free he or she is from whatever limits and controls. One also has to remember that much that happens in daily life as well as in history has to do with manipulation, games or role-playing, power, and control. The individual is up against all of that as well as his or her own often self-imposed limits and limitations.(Blake called them “mind-forg’d manacles” in his famous “London” poem.)

And then there’s the matter of personal or (viewed somewhat largely) life choices–choice being the final key to activating possibilities. Generally, one has a better chance of activating choices for self and to achieve or actualize whatever desired possibilities. Whenever one tries to make choices for others, manipulation, power, politics, and control usually get into the mix. Which is why it is always fun and pleasurable when two individuals freely choose the same thing, one another, or a shared life. Even more remarkable is when an idea, cause, or values and beliefs draw people together in groups, though again there one can still find individual agendas; there is no guarantee that people are on the same page either in couples or groups. No two snowflakes are alike, after all.

I suppose what has interested and impressed me for so long and so much remain the possibilities and the power of individual will, imagination, and choice for achieving various goals or desires. This liberating process–despite all the manipulation and politics embedded in relationships, work, society, and the world at large–involving a person’s heart, mind, soul, and talents (something explored by so many writers and artists) remains of prime interest: that is, its many manifestations and the avenues to it.

Over time, the bests also happen more frequently when one accepts life as it is, self as one is, and others as they are, relinquishing manacling egoic control in the flow and chi of life process. In that, perhaps, the greatest freedom and an opening of doors to many more possibilities–especially gifts of self and actualized fulfilling and freeing possibilities, so many more than one could ever have imagined, wanted, or discovered otherwise.

(the 1890 Robert Bros. edition which first published Emily Dickinson’s work, edited by her literary ‘mentor’ Colonel Higginson and the free-spirited Mabel Loomis Todd, who had a long adulterous affair with Emily’s brother Austin)

“I’m ceded–I’ve stopped being Theirs–”                                                                        “My second Rank–too small the first–
Crowned–Crowing–on my Father’s breast–
A half unconscious Queen–
But this time–Adequate–Erect,
With Will to choose, or to reject,
And I choose, just a Crown–”
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Self-reliance and autonomy were key themes in 19th century American literature and in early American history, generally. There had been nobody previously who wrote like Melville, Thoreau, Whitman, and Dickinson, or expressed the autonomous individual’s sensibility the way they so famously and confidently did.

In 1990, I came to a crossroads in my own life which changed my own position and basic orientation with respect to the rest of society. In terms of personal survival and possibilities for new inner growth and creative expression, it was completely necessary to ‘drop out’. The following poem, from that major life turning point, was my own ‘statement’ of the above ideas.

And So Lately

I choose this island
and its freedom from false face.
I select a landfall apart
from the swell and tides of others.

(a poet pondering Whitman gems in a populous city)

Walt Whitman is best-known for his long poems, but there is also a beauty in brevity, as Emily Dickinson proved in her own way. These nine obscure ‘shorties’ offer insights into Whitman’s sensibility and his view of the world, himself, and others. These are taken from his friend’s edition.

Once I Pass’d Through a Populous City

Once I pass’d through a populous city, imprinting my brain, for future use, with its shows, architecture, customs, and traditions;
Yet now, of all that city, I remember only a woman I casually met there, who detain’d me for love of me;
Day by day and night by night we were together,–All else has long been forgotten by me;
I remember, I say, only that woman who passionately clung to me;
Again we wander–we love–we separate again;
Again she holds me by the hand–I must not go!
I see her close beside me, with silent lips, and tremulous.

Perfections

Only themselves understand themselves, and the like of themselves,
As Souls only understand Souls.

O You Whom I Often and Silently Come

O you whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you;
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.

Germs

Forms, qualities, lives, humanity, language, thoughts,
The ones known, and the ones unknown–the ones on the stars,
The stars themselves, some shaped, others unshaped,
Wonders as of those countries–the soil, trees, cities, inhabitants, whatever they may be,
Splendid suns, the moons and rings, the countless combinations and effects;
Such-like, and as good as such-like, visible here or anywhere, stand provided for in a handful of space; which I extend my arm and half enclose with my hand;
That contains the start of each and all–the virtue, the germs of all.

To Rich Givers

What you give me, I cheerfully accept,
A little resistance, a hut and garden, a little money–these, as I rendezvous with my poems;
A traveler’s lodging and breakfast as I journey through The States–Why should I be ashamed to own such gifts? Why to advertise for them?
For I myself am not one who bestows nothing upon man and woman;
For I bestow upon any man or woman the entrance to all the gifts of the universe.

A Noiseless, Patient Spider

A noiseless, patient spider,
I mark’d where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them–Ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, O my soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,–seeking the spheres, to connect them; Till the bridge you will need, be form’d–till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul.

To Old Age

I see in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours in the great Sea.

Thought

As they draw to a close,
Of what underlies the precedent songs–of my aims in them;
Of the seed I have sought to plant in them;
Of joy, sweet joy, through many a year, in them;
(For them–for them have I lived–In them my work is done;
Of many an aspiration fond–of many a dream and plan,
Of you, O mystery great!–no place on record faith in you, o death!
–To compact you, ye parted, diverse lives!
To put rapport the mountains, and rocks, and streams,
And the winds of the north, and the forests of oak and pine,
With you, O soul of man.

This Day, O Soul

This day O Soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay–But the cloud has pass’d, and the tarnish gone;
…Behold, O Soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

When I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

–Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass                                                                                       (first published in “Drum-Taps,” 1865)

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I have used Whitman’s original punctuation which mainly differs with the use of several semi-colons. This version is taken from the 1900 edition by Whitman’s publisher David McKay. The alternate 1891-1892 Death-Bed Edition uses commas for the semi-colons and leaves out all inner line commas except for lines 2 and 3. As you can see, these changes create different effects and nuances.

“No pleasure hath any savour unless I can communicate it.”

One key model and influence for this discursive blog has been the famous French writer who changed Western civilization writing with the first essays, appropriately called Essays–the height of humanistic communication–published in 1580 and 1588. There is much of his approach I have consciously/subconsciously adopted and followed as my m.o. the past two years.

Montaigne reclusively worked in solitude and inwardly remained very free, his own man. He was solidly engaged in the examination of himself and others as they reciprocally illuminated and clarified one another. Although he was classically trained and academically theorized, he was also inclined, balancedly, to bring personal experience and observation to bear about his opinions on life and human nature. He aimed to tell the truth, even if some of it was unpleasant or unflattering to others.

Ultimately, he created a rounded, brimming self-portrait via his personal discursive essays which rambled like spirited one-man conversation, not unlike that of Socrates. This offered others glimpses not only into him, but into others and themselves. A process similar to Montaigne coming to know man better, then better understanding himself, as a representative of mankind. Above all, he aimed to discover universal truths about life experience and human nature.

As I continue to follow and express the seemingly never-ending flow of daily topics, I often imagine how much Montaigne would have enjoyed the blogging experience and the similar pleasures of having a Read-Only blog. There is a sublime pleasure to consciousness and expressing it for oneself and others. Still best of all is when creativity is ‘automatic’ with pieces ‘writing themselves’, like the previous topic on performance, and, even better, affirm the positive possibilities of human nature and life experience.

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Re. the second last sentence, this is something I have done at various times through drama, music, teaching, presenting, writing, and now blogging.

And it is always interesting and satisfying when deeply-held values and convictions are proven by or arise from personal experience and expression, as in the performer piece.

As I have sometimes said to others, if you wish to know, understand, and appreciate me better, then check out my blog. A self-portrait indeed.

(photo of William Blake’s “Glad Day” aka “The Dance of Albion”–an image of Albion liberating himself and others from limited/limiting materialism)

Granted professional performers need to work hard to make a living, you still have to look beyond that simplistic, limited pragmatic side to understand and appreciate the nature of performance.

I was thinking about The (3) Stampeders, first on this, how they’ve been reunited since 1992, travelling most of the year to play and share their ’70s with other baby Boomers for 40+ years. Pretty satisfying for them, being able to perform credibly, have sell-out crowds wherever they play, have fans still show energy and enthusiasm at the shows and after when they meet them in person.

On-stage performers typically have to prepare and rehearse to keep in shape (and there are a many behind-the-scenes factors such as diet and exercise–Mick Jagger jogged the Edmo river valley on a previous Edmo visit). They have to work hard, dig deep to stay in healthy, reasonable playing mode. Creativity, even for performers of old material, also remains important, with changes of selections, revised treatments of material, and so forth.

And always, there is the sense of ‘putting it out there’ for masses of complete strangers, sometimes a more invisible audience. The performers make a gift of themselves and their material and openly express that–a risky thought for most people. No question there has to be ego, but essentially self-confidence and a belief in oneself and one’s material in the first place before the expression or sharing takes place. A freeing and giving of one’s self to begin with.

Recalling the audience’s response to The Stampeders and The Mavericks (their concert two weeks ago), one then has to factor in audience response. Although audiences don’t usually do more than standing ovations after exceptional play productions, jazz or classical music, for instance, other audiences at what might be termed pop music shows are far more activated and openly energetic, often clapping or singing along enthusiastically or getting up and dancing. The freedom in the music, of the performers has in turn freed them, and they respond, expressing themselves uninhibitedly, ‘giving back’ to the performers. A two-way street of gifts and expressions of self accompanied by a mutual freedom of both parties.

Play begins early in our human lives, with performing and trying on or playing roles following in its wake. We all of us go on to play many roles and to perform (sometimes quite badly) for others. And there are many of us who end up doing it for a living: dancers, musicians, writers, athletes, teachers, et al. What is interesting about performing is how it brings together people, how it frees our spirits and us as individuals, and how it enables us to share our various gifts of self freely to one another. All of these undeniably positive human experiences that lift us beyond the mundane ordinary and whatever negative experiences we might otherwise encounter. Optimally, William Blake’s “Glad Day” personified.

information, but then there are those spent in search of beauty, particularly the beauty of/in Nature. We are observers all, ultimately, often recording what we can, of either transitory or more permanent (as in this case) beauty. ‘Tis images that often move us deepest (c.f. Wordsworth’s “Daffodils” or “Tintern Abbey” poems. That and human beauty of varying kinds and manifestations thereof.)

What remains most important is creating, expressing, recording, and sharing various truths emerging from reflection and consciousness. The ‘outer’ external world we experience is meaningful unto itself, of course, but so too are the personal, created, shared insights, truths, understandings, and appreciations of/by individuals, be they artists or ordinary folks.

Ironically, beauty itself is simply one special type of information anyway that dazzles our senses and affects our spirits and souls. Optimally, we feel the truths of beauty on our pulses, in our hearts as well as mentally and spiritually. To truly perceive, understand, and appreciate beauty requires a deep inner response which goes far beyond mere technology–lens types, shutter speeds, and film stock. There is, in short, an absurdity and limitations to the attached photo. The deep/er response will always be the viewer-responder’s with his own limited sense organs. (And that also btw includes any subjective response to this photo.)

For that reason I consider better ‘pictures’ of this scene to be the ones I had simply looking at the scene, technologically ‘naked’ sans camera, and imagining what a photo of Lake Louise and these photographers might look like. (A Hitchcockian idea–better/purer the original thought than the resultant shoot, so to speak) There was more Aha pleasure in that than the finished pic.

But even better than this inner consciousness moment was the immediate moment before the decision to snap–while just looking at all, experiencing everything sensuously–which included what my modest limited lens could not show, as well as the scent of firs, the sounds of quietude by the water, and the sublime warmth of afternoon sun filling every single September pore of my physical self. That was truly the first and most real poem of this ephemeral episode. And that is also the one I most pleasurably recall.