To thine own self be true

There is nothing quite like a good, long, deep sleep to clear the mental decks and dump the flotsam and jetsam that builds up over days. Likewise, certain things become more obvious out of the blue.

Take the name ‘Rich’. I realize that I have been called that by only a few people along the way–memorably by my Cold Lake drummer Stan Helmer. When Stan used it, he used it as a unique affectionate nickname. Up to age 20 in Winnipeg, I was known mainly as Rick by my parents, friends, even teachers. As I finished my university years and got ready for teaching, I became solidly Richard for my wife (she always called me that from the beginning), friends, my wife’s family, and teacher-friends. For the purpose of my books and workshops, I have always gone by Richard.

Anyway, I feel more like a Rich at this point, based on how I have lived my life, on my sensibility, and on my inner, conscious life. So you would not be wrong or insulting to call me that. In fact, I’d understand and appreciate if that is the way someone views me and the life I lead and have led.

Rick/Richard/Rich

He was a light
they had wanted to be
close to, even briefly
in passing.
A certain remoteness
and glow they had
hoped to ‘reel in’
like some precious catch.

In those ephemeral seconds
they had, indeed, connected
or seen a glimpse
of their other possibilities,
their own imagined lives.
They had sensed a music
of the spheres from afar,
the pleasure of presence
and the splashy warmth
of intimacy.

It was all that he was
and had been to
many a passing boat or craft:
a beacon by which to gauge
their own relative depths,
light, desires and love.
Their own best gifts
of self.

(on left) my father, Delmar (Del) Vernon Davies (1926-1998), in Royal Canadian Navy (Sept. 9, 1943 to Apr. 23, 1946 and–in its Reserve–Sept. 13, 1960 to Sept. 12, 1965). He also served in the Royal Canadian Air Force from Mar. 29, 1951 to Jan. 20,1957 and the Royal Canadian Navy–Reserve–Sept. 13, 1960 to Sept. 12, 1965.

We/they were all young once. Like many other vets, he would have been appalled by recent attempts to change the wording of “O, Canada” and ongoing government withdrawal of support for remaining veteran’s health and services. He was a very witty man who loved old movie classics, music, dancing, travel, animals, and Nature. Significantly, he instilled in me a great appreciation of irony, humor, and perspective.

Over 18 years of military service for his/our country. Fondly remembered by Rick, especially on November 11.

The introduction of the first of four rubber-ring-floor puzzles was a palpable hit. He immediately knew there were new, different possibilities for the rings once they were separated. They became hats, necklaces, arm bangles, foot rings, and the largest ring he could pass over his entire body from head to toe. Very interesting to see that familiar smile of delightful unexpected possibilities, in this case, for a puzzle.

He continues to make automatic connections on his own. As we read and he came across a picture of a giraffe, he immediately got up to look for his ‘ffe doll to bring over to place beside the picture. Much the same later when he played with the Fisher-Price dog and pointed to his dog or did the same with the woman character and his mother. So, haply making connections, noticing the patterns that emerge in reading and play.

At one point (he had been ill), I asked him “Ok?” and he repeated, emphatically “O-kay”. We did our usual house walkabout, me carrying him, naming different things, some which he repeated or commented on, with fewer of the old baby babble responses. He definitely likes to do things as we do this; his orientation is an active/doing one.
He has been doing Melissa and Doug puzzles successfully for some time and enjoys putting pieces in where they belong and spinning the pieces with the tiny red pickups ‘handles’ as he goes to set each piece in place.

When he noticed the jumbo crayons and 8 x 10 colored construction paper, he immediately started to remove the crayons from the box (as with everything else, he enjoys as much, putting back and putting away of whatever toy), and began to draw. He did a swirl of circles on one sheet, enjoying the flow, then identified this as mama and dadda. He enjoyed playing with his own Fisher Price drum, opening it up to play with the instruments within. I showed him how the cymbals worked better when they were crashed directly.

Otherwise, he displayed his various talents, dancing to music toys, walking backward as far as he could, running across the room on ‘Ready-set-go’ to his mom, pushing around the empty laundry basket, and walking his FP raccoon pull toy balancing his giraffe on top. And he still gets a kick, activating “You are my sunshine” on my Mickey Mouse watch which he refers to as ‘clock’ and walking on my feet as we both chant “do-de-do”.

As usual, he can distract himself and play contentedly on his own. And, as usual, it is his new developments and changes that remain most interesting with each visit. Decidedly, more than ever, he resembles a little man in cool t-shirt, pants, and Argyll socks who has a zillion projects on the go. (C.f. my previous piece on a life of projects and the ‘ite piece which unites him with Kubrick’s star-child.)

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I continue, as usual, in my playing, performing, and teaching roles with him. The tone of each visit to his place is set from the moment he watches for the arrival of the tell-tale Bay-striped-colored cloth bag of toys. There are cues and much familiarity–as in familiar toys, play, and play possibilities. He knows who and what to expect from the get-go.

“We fear the thing we want the most.”–Dr. Robert Anthony

“Fear is the prison of the heart.”–Anon

“Of all the passions, fear weakens judgement most.”–Cardinal De Retz

There is no greater self-imposed limitation than fear itself. Fear limits us from truly living and loving fully and freely. No question. I have watched others limit themselves this way time and time again. As I have said earlier elsewhere, we truly do it to ourselves by limiting ourselves from the fulfilled lives and loves we might otherwise have. These would be the most needlessly damaging and inhibiting manacles we put on our own lives. We and no one else. Ironically, this, in an otherwise world of beautiful limitless possibilities.

“For us, there is only the trying. The rest is none of our business.”–T.S. Eliot, “East Coker”, Four Quartets

“Is it too late for tryin’?”–Gordon Lightfoot, “Too Late for Prayin'”, Sundown

Presence. Process, Play, Pleasure, Possibilities.

“That is all /Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”–John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”

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In the 5 P’s, everything you might care to know about me, my past, or my approach to life.

It is always a refreshing pleasure to encounter a strong, entertaining, well-made film at the movie theatres in a dark age when Bad Grandpa tops the weekend box office and coarseness, crudeness, violence, and phony over-the-top effects and explosions rule.

In contrast, All Is Lost has a simple, but engrossing storyline: one man`s yacht begins to take on water in the middle of the Indian Ocean and he tries to survive numerous setbacks against impossible odds. The film is remarkable for its conflicts, crises with realistic effects, a believable performance by a very vulnerable, older-looking Robert Redford, and no language except for one curse and a few sentences of opening voice-over monologue. Otherwise, the stereo sound figures prominently with boat creakings, squall roar, and continuous water noise. The action takes place in both full sunlight and night or storm darkness.

Let`s put it this way about the plot: anything that can go wrong does and–although the man`s common sense, intelligence, and available technology work sometimes–nature offers little forgiveness to a mariner who could not possibly foresee all the negative things that could potentially befall him. For that matter, the modern commercial world with its large, seemingly unmanned cargo ships and adrift cargo containers of useless runners project a similar, care-less indifference about the havoc and plight experienced at the level of individuals such as the man.

As always, truly good acting communicates through facial expression and movement. Along the way in this film, the viewer sees Redford`s man as alternately energetic, hopeful, determined, resourceful, unbeaten, depressed, amazed, embattled, exhausted, and defeated. It is hard to imagine this unique modern variation of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea being performed as well and as convincingly by anyone other than Redford–one of the few remaining true stars of the previous movie generation still working.

Without revealing the ending, I will remark that it is a wish fulfillment–the very thing that “our man”–as he is identified in the credits–and conventional audience most desire, and at the same time it is quite realistic and plausible. Very well-executed.

All Is Lost demonstrates finally, that good movies are still possible if the storylines are strong and believable, and if the conflicts are simple, strong, and timeless. They are still possible today without resorting to non-stop swearing, continuous one-second shots, loud music, nudity, horror, crude humor, animation, 3-D, or over-the-top violence. Instead, All Is Lost shows us how powerful, memorable, and effective films can still be, especially if you have an entertaining believable human story, the right actor (Redford), and right director–J.C. Chandor.

“If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.”–Shakespeare, Hamlet

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first snow, Oct. 27, Edmo

Each person has limits, limitations, and whatever freedom/s. In the context and process of each of our lives, we bump into these limits on a daily basis. Sometimes the limits are interior (self-caused/generated), other times external (caused by others or various outside situations and contexts).

I think what most of us want is pretty much what you see in the free play of a toddler (which is why many people revert to childish behaviors, incidentally). We desire to be free to pursue (what I call elsewhere in this blog) our projects and processes, without interference from others or external forces and agencies.

I think you can catch glimpses of this child-like freedom in the experience of love, for instance, when two people ‘play’ and free each other’s (what I would call) inner child. Something there is, very deep, which wants to be that free all over again (even to have, say, the freedom often experienced in university life).

And so, daily, we are happy for and look forward to our freedoms–whether it is the life we lead after work, the free coffee paid forward, or the anticipated holiday or trip.
Freedom, then, is largely the goal of many people in our society and world.

I will just add that freedom is also an inner experience, which may in fact be more important and potentially satisfying than any of the external ones exampled above. (We do, after all, live and experience largely ‘inside’.) The freedom to imagine and express is a very heady one, indeed.

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N.B./ We are all, at any given moment, either limited or free in many ways. How we feel about these is potentially a catalyst for change, improvement, and betterment. And certainly, each person’s notion or conception of freedom will vary from one individual to the next. (As seen in the different dreams of the characters in Of Mice and Men).