It’s no secret that technology is quickly outrunning the generation trying to use it. More and more, it seems that every device or gadget has features and functions on it that I either completely ignore or can’t understand. I recently spoke to someone who was using a landline and she explained that she’s never had a cell phone and never plans to. I kind of miss those days. Don’t get me wrong, I love my smart phone and I wouldn’t see myself going without it. As a family man with responsibilities, it’s a great tool for managing my daily tasks.
One area where technology keeps moving ahead is with personal vehicles. I remember that my first car was an early 80’s Toyota hatchback, 3-speed transmission with only one side mirror and it didn’t even have a tape deck! Radio only. I absolutely loved that car but it had no power steering; you turned the vehicle on muscle power. It had halogen headlights that were yellowed and barely lit the road. It was the pinnacle of 1980’s imported vehicles, but compared to today, it was a piece of metal burning gas.
Last summer, and I probably wrote about this already, I purchased a 2021 Toyota hatchback as our household’s second vehicle. It was like coming full circle for me, since a Toyota hatchback had been my first vehicle. There’s still no tape deck. In fact, there’s no deck at all; music is played through Bluetooth on my phone. Amazingly, the vehicle has sensors that warns me if a vehicle is coming up alongside me and slowly steers me back if I start veering across median lines on the road. It’s pretty neat, albeit a bit concerning that my vehicle would have this sort of control while I’m driving.
Despite all the functions, my archaic ass has adjusted other them quite well and I enjoy driving the car. I never realized just how many features were involved until the road trip I was on, last week. Typically when I travel to Saskatoon for my eye injections or something, we’re looking at about two and half to three hours’ of travel time (I sometimes do it in less but I have friends who are still cops, so imma keep that shit to myself). I usually make a point of stopping once during that transit, either for coffee or to accommodate my Diabetic bladder.
On this particular trip, I was travelling from a city much farther north than I’m used to. As I was travelling alone and had skipped breakfast, I had no need of a washroom and I had filled my gas tank along the way. At roughly the 3-hour mark of traveling without stopping, I start hearing a beeping sound. It was unfamiliar but I assumed it was something on my insulin pump. Like a stubborn goon, I didn’t want to stop just to press a button so I tried to shimmy the pump out of my pocket (I was wearing jeans) without stopping or removing my seatbelt. Not my brightest moment but I managed it. In checking my pump, everything was clear and the alert wasn’t coming from the pump. I turned off the music right at the moment the chime went off again and realized that it was coming from the dash of the vehicle…
Apparently, I had been driving just long enough without stopping that my car decided to check up on me. I had never seen this happen before. I got a chuckle out of it, so I grabbed a quick snapshot. I guess in a world where “smart cars” are a thing, I should be overly surprised. But it’s nice to know that my car will give me a reminder if I’m behind the wheel too long. ☯️
I had a bit of a unique experience on Monday night. The evening was carrying on as it often does in our household. My wife was working her remote job diligently in her home office, my oldest son was hiding away in his room like the preteen he’s becoming, and the toddler and i were relaxing downstairs, watching cartoons and doing laundry. Around 7 p.m., we got a doorbell ring. For the most part, our neighbourhood is pretty quiet and we rarely have someone come to our, with the notable exception of food delivery or the few door-to-door salespeople we get in the summer.
In answering the door, two young boys were standing there. Perhaps 12 or 13 years old, they were exactly what you would expect of boots their age. A bit disheveled but not necessarily dirty, hair all over the place and a kind of contained, quiet energy that they would access to at any moment. They asked me if I would like them to rake my front yard. I know a lot of people who would have simply said go ahead but this is 2024… I asked them how much they charge. They asked me what I thought was fair, so I told them if they would completely rake the front yard and bag the leaves, I would give them $20 each. I would even provide the bags. They agreed and went to the front yard to wait.
They had an interesting combination of eagerness and wariness and when I brought the rakes and bags to them, they actually asked me if I planned to rip them off. I asked them what they meant and they indicated that they’ve had a few households refuse to pay them afterwards. I flourished two crisp 20-dollar bills and explained that they knew where I lived and knew I was in the house. Refusal to pay would warrant them getting their parents involved and MAKING me pay, which seemed to satisfy them. The fact that some folks reneged on payment bothered me more than the fact they asked the question. I also explained that so long as they raked the yard properly and collected all the leaves, they would get paid. They soon got to work.
I did warn them that they only had about an hour of daylight left before it would start getting dark and it would be difficult to spot any missed leaves. My two sons were fascinated and were watching out the window. It was a good learning lesson for them as, at their age, I would have been the one doing the raking. My father wouldn’t have paid someone else to do it. I explained all of this to them. My toddler was totally on board with raking. My oldest kind of shrugged and retreated to the sanctuary of his room.
Shortly, the doorbell rang again and the boys said they were done. I stepped outside to “inspect” their work and I have to admit, the front yard looked pretty sweet. I fulfilled my part of the deal and paid them each their $20. I got to talking to them a bit and asked if they’d had the opportunity to do many yards in the neighbourhood. They replied that they hadn’t as many residents either didn’t want them doing it or planned on doing it themselves. They were trying to make and save up some money so they could pay for things throughout the summer.; something I rarely see in today’s youth, including my own children.
What was nice about this occurrence and why I felt it important to write about it is, I fancy myself as someone who doesn’t paint everyone with the same brush. It’s easy to consider modern youth to be tethered to their devices, vane and entitled and typically lazy. I’ll go out on a limb and admit that I’ve met many who are like this. The important lesson and the little ray of hope for the future, is that there are still those select few who will work for what they want or need and aren’t afraid to put themselves out there instead of hiding behind a screen. It reminded me a bit of myself when I was a kid. ☯️
Throughout the years, I’ve often given some thought to the many missed opportunities and paths I haven’t walked down as a result of being diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes at the age of four. With that one fateful event, many doors suddenly closed and certain things that I might have contemplated were no longer available to me. Although often disappointing, it also thought me to develop an instinct that I would use to work hard for certain things simply by virtue of the fact that they told me I couldn’t have it.
It wouldn’t be until years later, when I had reached adulthood, that I would ultimately realize that some things that had been refused me were the result of others’ laziness or fear as opposed to the fact I genuinely couldn’t or shouldn’t do it. One of those things were the Beaver Scouts. I ironically joined the Beaver Scouts when I was four years old, back in my town in New Brunswick. Although I was young enough that I didn’t really understand the implications of what I was doing beyond needing to wear a stupid hat with a beaver tail, it was something nut father believed would be invaluable as I got older.
The Scouts are a fantastic way to learn some basic, rudimentary outdoor and socialization skills that can be easily carried into adulthood. When I got my diagnosis, it was decided that the Scout leaders had neither the knowledge nor the training to have me in their group, in the event I found myself in medical distress. Although I understand that perspective, neither did my parents, if I’m being totally honest. But the result was that I was unceremoniously punted from the group. It set a poor standard for the remainder of my childhood, which is why I had to do most of the activities I loved in my youth without my parents’ knowledge or consent. Not something I would encourage in others but here we are.
Little did I anticipate that almost four decades later, I would get to experience that lost opportunity through the eyes of my son. Nathan is a bit of a withdrawn individual; often preferring to sit quietly in his room or the basement, playing on electronic devices rather than spending time outdoors or doing something active. He has no issue socializing with other kids but getting him to willingly do something structured and active has always been a challenge. That’s why when my wife indicated she had signed him up for Scouts, I was surprised that he was not only willing to go; he seemed to be enjoying it.
Last week, I attended a ceremony where Nathan was officially given his investiture into the Scouts. It was a nice thing to watch and I was proud of how attentive he was to the instructions he was getting. He appears t have a few kids in his respective “lair” that he gets along with quite well, and even spent his first weekend away from home at a camp out event with his Scouts group. He hand-crafted some crafts, started a fire and slept two night with his group. It can sometimes be a bit hard to get Nathan to open up and share his thoughts or experiences but he was able to mention that he enjoyed himself and would be willing to do it again.
He still needs to get a uniform shirt, since they didn’t have one in his size that night. But he got some attention and took his oath, got his scarf and some patches that he earned during his weekend. Now, we just need to get him a blanket to start sewing those on. That’ll be fun, since he doesn’t know how to sew. Neither do I. Considering I nearly severed my thumb recently, I’m probably no safer with a sewing needle. But I digress…
Scouts can be a great way for young people to learn the basics of life; not only in the great outdoors but in general. Part of the “tasks” he needs to accomplish include aquatic abilities, helping out neighbours, doing chores around the house and doing good things for others. It’s the foundation on which a well-rounded young individual can base their life and get a bit of discipline while still having fun. As Joe Clark used to say, discipline is not the enemy of enthusiasm. Here’s hoping he sticks with it. In the meantime, I get to live out my missed experiences vicariously through my son. ☯️
Whether you’re a Trekkie fan or not, there’s no denying the deep influence that the Star Trek universe has had on film and television since the late 1960’s. Spawning a number of subsequent television series and movies, it encompasses what I enjoy most about the sci-fi genre; exploration, future technologies and the possibility of what’s out there… All while enjoying it all from the comfort of one’s couch. Some of my best childhood memories included sitting on the couch on a lazy day with my father while watching Captain James T. Kirk make a flimsy effort at hand to hand combat, followed by quasi-inappropriate canoodling with a female of some previously unknown alien race.
My children apparently haven’t inherited my love of Star Trek, which is a shame. Despite that fact, I used to have the benefit of knowing I had watched every series and movie under the Star Trek banner. With the release of series such as Discovery, Strange New Worlds and Lower Decks, I fallen out of touch with some of the more modernized iterations of the Star Trek universe. This is a problem I sought out remedy by subscribing to Paramount+ a few months ago and starting with what turned out to be an excellent series. I’m talking about Star Trek: Picard. I advise you to stop reading now, if you haven’t seen it and don’t want spoilers…
Let’s start with how it began. Star Trek: the Next generation is a follow-series that ran from 1987 to 1994 and featured the exploits of the USS Enterprise “D” and its crew, some 80 years after Kirk’s Enterprise. It was a fantastic series and ran for seven seasons, covering new races, new planets and had better visual and effects than the original series, making it a more enjoyable experience for the 9-year old Blogging Buddhist who would sit and soak up every episode. Jean-Luc Picard was the Captain of this particular Enterprise and led the ship and crew through many adventures and hardships. The series ended with Picard ultimately contributing to saving nothing less than the entire galaxy and humanity itself, with some passive-aggressive help from the omnipotent entity known as Q.
What was fun about TNG is that it addressed some reasonably serious issue on the ship while not taking itself too seriously as a whole. Despite some negative criticism about some of the storylines, I enjoyed every episode. Star Trek: Picard takes place a couple of decades after the end of the TNG storyline and features a retired Admiral Picard who is suddenly thrown back in the fray when a young synthetic woman, believed to be the daughter of the later Lt. Commander Data, seeks his assistance. He spends the majority of the season sorting through the chaos and attempting to have a prohibition on synthetic life abolished. The season ends with Picard making an ultimate sacrifice but still pulling through.
Season 2 sees Picard and his colleagues trapped in a dark, alternate reality, somewhat reminiscent of the mirror universe, if you’ve read of those Star Trek books. This is done by none other than the infamous Q, who also appears to be slowly losing his omnipotent abilities. In an effort to right things, the team ended accidentally travelling to 2024 and putting one of Picard’s ancestors on the right path before Q sends them all back to their own time, seemingly using the last of his omnipotence and sacrificing his won life in the process. Once they return to the 23rd century, they are faced with a galaxy-destroying force that is being prevented by none other than the Borg. I had a hard time believing that myself, until I realized that the Borg queen was one of Picard’s characters that remained in in 2024 and waiting 400 years to save the day.
Season 3 is where things got interesting and the one I enjoyed the most. It reunites the majority of TNG’s original bridge crew and senior staff, including Geordi LaForge, Will River, Deana Troy, Beverly Crusher and eventually, a regenerated and reborn Data. Word shows up in all his Klingon glory and we eventually learn of a young man named Jack Crusher, said to be the product of Picard and Beverly Crusher’s sleepover activities, some twenty years prior. The premise of the season is that there seems to be something inside of Picard’s son, which is drawing him to the Borg. He eventually concedes and goes to a dilapidated and nearly-dead Borg queen, played by the same actress who was Borg queen in Star Trek: First Contact.
The Borg end up assimilating the vast majority of humanity within a short period, due to an infection that rewrites their genetic code when using the transporter. All individuals too old or who predate this genetic rewrite are being systematically eliminated by the newly-assimilated human race and it’s up to Picard and his crew to use their unique style of space-faring swashbuckling to eliminate the Borg queen once and for all and to save humanity. Which they do. With gusto.
Of course, there are a number of subplots and side stories that I’m not covering here, including with the Romulans and an abandoned Borg cube. But I need to leave some mystery for if you sit through it. Star Trek: Picard definitely manage to strike a perfect balance. For me, the nostalgia of seeing the old crew back together and operating as a unit occasionally brought a tear to my eye, reminding me of a simpler time and happy memories. Although it only ran for three seasons, it did something that most series fail to do; it provided a fantastic storyline while leaving the audience wanting for more. But it recognized when it was time to stop.
If you’re looking for something to binge over a weekend, I would highly recommend Star Trek: Picard. My wife watched it with me and I believe she enjoyed it as well. At only 10 episodes per season, the entire series is only 30 episodes long, which is barely a season and a half of most shows. Granted, it has an almost 1-hour runtime, so you’re looking at 30 hours of watching. Either way, see for yourself. If you’re a fan of the Star Trek universe, it’ll tie off some storylines from TNG nicely and stoke the fires of your memories from the 1990’s quite nicely. ☯️
I’ve often said that life rarely cares about one’s plans. While it’s great to have goals and objectives in life that you’d like to accomplish, it’s important to remember that things change, and you can’t be in control of every factor that may get in the way of what you’re trying to do. Planning out your life to the letter is nigh impossible. That’s why if you take a path where you expect things to happen within a certain timeline, you’ll undoubtedly be disappointed at the result.
Through my late teens and into adulthood, I faced the very real possibility that I would likely never have children. I don’t recall the exact statistic but doctors have told me that the majority of male Type-1 Diabetics usually end up not bearing children. In some ways, this came as a mild relief when I was younger since Diabetes can inherently be passed on to one’s children. But as I got older, I began recognizing that passing on one’s life to the next generation is important in all aspects.
Luckily, those concerns came to an end in 2014 when my wonderful wife and I had our first son, Nathan. It’s a pretty typical scenario that we’ve all seen, either in our personal lives or on television… The parents are burned out, exhausted and somehow still fighting and pushing forward, dealing with diaper changes, middle-of-the-night feedings, crying and a complete and utter disruption of the serene life they may have had before. Just imagine that many if not most of these couples have their children in their 20’s. Since life never goes according to plan, I met my wife and we had our first child when I was in my late 30’s.
Considering I was an operational police officer at the time, I was used to working through extended periods of fatigue, so my policing experience was actually quite invaluable in parenting. But I would be lying if I said it was a breeze. Add in the fact that as someone with Type-1 Diabetes, sleep, proper nutrition, exercise and a structured routine are all very important to maintaining one’s overall health. Raising an infant is the opposite of most of that. Most obviously, a parent wants to be able to play and interact and roll around on the floor with their kids. Sharing in the innocence and fun is a big part of the magic that is parenting.
When our second son, Alexandre, was born four years ago, it was even worse as I was now in my 40’s. trying to finding the energy to jump around and play with your kid when you’re burnt from a day’s work, still have laundry and household chores other do and all he wants to do is wrestle you to the ground and demonstrate his recently-developed right hook. First world problems, am I right? But energy levels for a Type-1 Diabetic are iffy at the best of times. Trying to share some of that energy with a toddler while in your 40’s is something else.
It can frustrating sometimes, as much for Alex as it is for me. Especially since he won’t understand that daddy’s tired and needs to rest. He just understands that he wants to play with his daddy. And so he should! That’s why it becomes so important to maintain those blood sugars, maintain your physical fitness and keep a healthier lifestyle. Doing so can help you to at least TRY and keep up with your next generation. For me, my children are a handful and they rarely stand still. My oldest is a roiling ball of energy and my youngest is a fucking tank. Both require their own amount of energy and attention; something that isn’t always the easiest.
I just need to keep my energy levels up enough to ensure that when they get older, they can look back and acknowledge that they had some fun with their father. Especially before I get much older and can no longer keep up. On the flip side, I’d be lying if I said there isn’t an inherent joy in being able to shed some of the adult facade and just play with toys or watch a cartoon movie with my kids. They give me as much as I give them. Maybe just not in the same way. ☯️
Most karate practitioners have been there and I spent decades experiencing the same routine… Your dojo doors open up and you show up for class about thirty minutes before start of class. There’s some friendly “how are you’s” and hellos exchanged while stretching. Maybe you engage in a form or two and do a bit of light shadow sparring. Sensei is always the first one there and always makes a point of asking you how your weekend was or, if you’re on the last class of the week, will ask you what plans you may have for the weekend to come.
Sound familiar? It should. This is the sort of social nicety that one can expect when entering a dojo and before starting class. Setting aside for the moment that not all dojos have the whole “get here half an hour before” mindset, you can usually expect that people who train together will bond together. Relationships and connections will develop, which will lead into a more social connection beyond the immediate purpose for being in the dojo, which is training in karate. This aspect is important, not only for you as a person but for you as a student, as well.
These connection make it easier and more comfortable to train in the dojo environment and allow for material to be absorbed and learned easily. If one is able to think back to the initial year one started in a dojo, there was awkwardness, silence and it felt as though one’s skills weren’t progressing. Some of that could likely be attributed to the fact that those interpersonal connections and relationships hadn’t been solidified yet, which led to less questions being asked, less people being approached for coaching and less overall learning.
Some may comment that this isn’t entirely accurate and that it doesn’t really play a role but I’ve seen it firsthand. It’s very hard to learn if you train like an antisocial douche who sits in the corner and doesn’t connect with anybody. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ll learn NOTHING. But you certainly won’t learn at the level you should with the quality of teaching that a dedicated student deserves. The worst is when the teachers and instructors do their best to reach out but the student STILL wants nothing to do with connecting to other fellow karateka.
All that being said, my point is that training in karate has so much more to offer than just being in the dojo. It’s the semi-permanent connections made with the practitioners. For example, you can tell a lot about the dynamic of a dojo by what happens AFTER the class. For the most part and from what I’ve seen of many dojos I’ve trained in, the class closes, people change and get the hell out of dodge. I even trained at one dojo that boasted shower facilities on site but I’ve never seen anyone use them. Considering the key holders are usually standing there waiting like vultures for everyone to get into street clothes and leave, that’s not surprising.
In my home dojo, it usually took at least half an hour for everyone to leave. This is because once class closed, you’d have students helping each other with technique, or people would start chatting and conversing, almost to the point of hanging out. Hell, my home dojo had a standing tradition that on the last Wednesday of every month, senior students would get together to grab a beer after class. Stories and laughs would be shared and even if we were all karate practitioners, most of the conversations would be unrelated to karate. Imagine that? Even now, when I travel home for any reason, I make a point to have social visits with Sensei and others I’ve trained with. These are relationships and bonds that last a lifetime and can never be undone.
Am I saying this phenomenon is necessary to train in karate? Absolutely not. Considering I’ve been effectively training for over ten years by myself, by virtue of there being no schools of Uechi-Ryu in Saskatchewan, I think I’m living proof of that. What I’m saying is that it makes it BETTER. It makes it more fun and more motivating. Like it or not, human beings are pack creatures and we are drawn to others of our kind. To develop those bonds is to provide an undeniable benefit to one’s training and ultimately, to one’s overall personal development. Food for thought… ☯️
There must be a balance in life. This applies to all things, positive or negative. For example, although I enjoy the benefits of pump therapy to treat my Type-1 Diabetes, there are some definite negatives to wearing a pump and continuous glucose monitoring. I experienced some of those negatives during my recent travels to New Brunswick. They include having to calculate the number of pieces of replacement gear I’d need for the trip, including infusion sets, sensors, reservoirs, gluco-sticks for my blood metre and a partridge in a very annoying pear tree. Getting through airport security is also fun, as it usually requires me to be physically pat down instead of going through the same way everyone else does. But I digress…
Once in a while, the positive rises up to counteract the negative. I had the opportunity to experience that, this morning. I got to take a naked shower. Now, you may be asking, “But Shawn, isn’t everyone naked when they shower?” First of all, no, because you don’t know how other people shower, so save your questions until the end of the class. But what I mean, is that I had absolutely no pump equipment on my flesh when I showered this morning. When I woke up, I only had a few units of insulin left and knew I’d have to change out my set. My sensor was due to expire within the next two hours, so I removed it to charge the transmitter, as well. The result was an abdomen clear of all my cyborg parts.
There’s a certain freedom to being able to shower completely unhindered by having your devices attached to you. It’s a very small thing that people take for granted but the reality is that when I shower, I usually have to be mindful to angle my body so that I’m not constantly spraying hot water on my sensor. To be clear, everything I wear can withstand water and even be submerged. The issue is with the adhesive that holds everything in place. Hot water exposure will almost certainly melt away some of the adhesive. And even if it doesn’t the adhesive will start to dry and shrink, causing it to peel away from the skin. And obviously, as I’m lathering up I need to avoid piling a bunch of soap and hot water on everything.
This morning was a rare instance where both my CGM and my infusion set were absent. I didn’t have to guard where the water fell, I could scrub freely at my leisure and I could let the hot water cascade upon me with abandon. It was an excellent start to my morning and providing a level of enjoyment in the shower that I rarely get… Feel free to insert whatever dirty jokes that you feel may be appropriate, here. But seriously, I often have occasions where I’m due to change my infusion set, so THAT’s off during a shower. Or on the rare occasions my sensor change happens at home (it usually happens at work), I get to have a shower with THAT off. But having both of them off at the same time is pretty much like playing Russian roulette.
So, there you have it. Just another day in the life of a Type-1 Diabetic with all of his first-world problems. But it’s certainly an interesting aspect that people usually don’t consider. I always joke around that I’m technically a cyborg; I wear technology that replaces the function of something in the human body and helps to keep me alive. There are a lot of benefits to pump therapy. But some of the little joys are worth mentioning. And enjoying. Food for thought… ☯️
So, I’m going to end this travel series on the most positive note I possibly can. IN Sensei’ words and as I often write, for every negative, there is a positive; and vice versa. It’s been a rough week for me; dropping everything at the drop of a hat and travelling across the country to the East Coast to help my mother during a transition that I thought would never happen. Honestly, I always assumed she’d pass away before her mind went. But I walked away on Friday night confident in the fact that she’s safe, warm, sheltered and fed and has a great support system in place. In fact, I would have to go on record as saying I have the best fuckin’ family in the world. Part of me is thoroughly convinced that had they not intervened prior to my arrival, I would have been travelling out there to bury my mother instead of visiting her. But I digress… And I did say I would end this on a positive note.
The dark, foreboding roads of New Brunswick
As I wrote yesterday, Saturday morning saw me get up a few inches higher than the butt-crack of dawn and drive south on a dark, moose-infested highway from Northern New Brunswick and the City of Moncton. All in all, my travel day, if I include the driving (which I do), amounted to about 22 hours of total travel. Delayed departures threatened my ability to get home and flight changes at two different airports before touching down in Regina gave me a unique insight into the ignorance and undeserved self-entitlement that the general public seem to have when being in an airport terminal. But before I go off on some sort of negative tangent, I should probably get to the more positive aspects of my visit; of which there were many.
Taking care of a family comes with its fair share of responsibilities, which I’m sure I don’t need to tell any of you. When we usually travel out East, the opportunity to kick back and go out is pretty rare. This is mainly because my mother doesn’t have the constitution or control to deal with Nathan and Alexander, which means we limit our outings and interactions while in New Brunswick to a) what can be done during daylight hours and b) all together. The result is that I usually never get to see many of the friends and associates I still have in northern New Brunswick because most of them work day jobs and after supper, we’re winding the boys down and trying to get them to bed. From my side of things, it would be irresponsible and selfish of me to leave my wife with the boys in a random hotel room in a community she’s unfamiliar with, and take the only vehicle and say, “Have a god night, hun! I’m off to shoot pool and drink beer. See you later!” Dick move, imaginary me. Dick move.
Flight 1 of 3. Let’s go, already!
This is one of the only occasions in nearly a decade where I was able to touch base and reconnect with some folks I haven’t hung out with in years. And I even got to go see Sensei’s son’s new house, which he had been begging me to go see for years. I reconnected and shared meals with some family members and was introduced to the wonder that is pork loin (Thanks, Daniel!) and will likely be trying to make it myself. I got to enjoy brunch with an old high school friend and fellow karate practitioner. I got to shoot pool and enjoy a couple of pints of the elusive Alpine beer, of which there is none in Saskatchewan. And last but certainly not least, I got to spend several hours sitting in Sensei’s warm living room reliving old memories as he provided sage advice and wisdom, even without asking for it. This is Sensei’s way.
Contemplating life at 32,000 feet
in some ways, many ways, my mother has managed to teach me some valuable lessons through this entire process, as well. A part of me wants to share the image my aunt took of my mother’s emaciated form when she found her. She was on the brink of death and looked horrible. However, I don’t feel it would be respectful of me to expose my mother in such a private moment and it could be triggering or traumatic for some to see her that way. But the bottom line is my mother reached a point where she realized she no longer had anyone to take of and spent her days in silence. Alone and depressed, she gave up. It isn’t until family stepped up to start helping and being there, that she started to regain some constitution and start to get better. The way she appeared when I left on Friday was night and day compared to the photo I saw, only two weeks prior.
Guess who was happy to see me?
The bottom line is that we all need people. In whatever way, shape or form that takes holds for each of us, we need that in our lives. For my mother, she spent her entire life taking care of others. She spent two decades on a state of constant hyper-vigilance looking after my brother until he passed. Then, my father’s paralysis took hold and she took care of him until he signed himself into a care home. Finally, both my grandparents reached their end-of-life needs, which my mother provided for both. It isn’t until the past year or two where she’s had absolutely no one to take care of or look after. Years of constant stress and adrenaline have taken their toll, which contributed to her current state but the biggest caveat is that she couldn’t be alone. That’s what started to do her in…
Whether some of us choose to admit it or not, human beings are pack animals and we need others in order to survive. My mother was a clear example of this, as she is once again thriving. As much as a 75-year old woman who’s losing her memories can thrive, of course. But the lesson here and what I picked up during this trying week is that life is short. No matter what school of philosophy you adhere to or what you think happens in the afterlife, the life you’re in is but a flicker. At the snap of your fingers, it’s gone. So it’s important to live life and take the time to appreciate your family, loved ones and the important things in your life. This is an important lesson that I’ve always known but the rigours and stresses of life sometimes make one forget. It’s just unfortunate that my mother had to nearly die in order for me to remember.
The lesson was driven home (pun intended) the most as I disembarked from the final leg of my flight, at the airport in Regina. As I descended the escalator, I saw my wife and my two sons, patiently waiting for me to arrive. As I reached the bottom of the escalator, no act of God or man could have kept my redheaded little daredevil from plowing through large, adult crowds to plow into my arms. As shown from the last photo above, he was up as soon as I was, this morning and has been attached to me, ever since. I guess daddy’s home. Life eventually starts to take away more than it gives. That’s the inevitable secret of life. That’s why we need to enjoy the happy moments when we can, despite having them peppered with the sad ones. It’s the balance of life that means the difference between living, and just existing. Food for thought. And with that thought, I’ve got some life to go live. It’s good to be home. ☯️
October 13th is a pretty typical day fro most people… Falling somewhere after Thanksgiving (in Canada, mind you) and a couple of weeks before Halloween, it’s a pretty unassuming day that most people tend to consider just another day on the calendar. But for me and 27 other individuals, it’s a fixed point in the history of our lives that altered the course of who we are and what we’ve become. Today is the anniversary of when I was sworn in as a peace officer with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
I’ve always believed that it was important to live one’s life without regrets. I still believe that, despite the many hardships I’ve faced in recent years and the ones I continue to face now. Every once in a. While, an individual makes a decision that becomes a fixed point in their lives from which all subsequent decisions will stem from. Such was my decision to become a police officer and try to serve the people of my country and help those who can’t help themselves.
Starting with a troop of 32 and graduating with only 28, I never could have predicted how taking on this career path would change me, in some ways for the better and some for the worse. I also couldn’t have predicted that doing so would make Saskatchewan my new, permanent home and where I’d meet my wife and have my children. But here we are! I can look back with absolutely no regrets and nothing but fond memories of the training, the discipline and the camaraderie that was developed during those long months of training, which ultimately brought me to the here and now.
A few of my troop mates were also posted to Saskatchewan and we had started a tradition on our 1-year anniversary that I had sought to carry on. We joined up in a neutral city and toasted our time with a shot of Fireball. At two years, we did two shots. At three years we did three and so on and so forth… It was a wonderful tradition until I crossed the line into 10 years and it started to become dangerous. I’m not in my 20’s anymore; downing a dozen shots, even over the course of hours, doesn’t sit well with my system.
Considering I’ve all but cut out alcohol consumption completely, this may be the first year that I find a different means of celebrating and observing the day that subsequently set my path for me. Next to joining karate, the day I became a police officer is one of the most impactful of my life. And since I was too fuckin’ young at the time, I have no way of knowing EXACTLY what date I would have joined karate. But one can’t celebrate everything, right?
It’s been a few years since I’ve worn the uniform and my path has since moved beyond that aspect of my life. But the memory and impact it carries will stay with me forever. Policing in modern-day society poses its own unique set of risks and complications. As my grandfather would say, things aren’t like they used to be be. And that is so true. Policing and police officers in general, are no longer viewed with the same reverence and place of respect as they used to be. We have a number of factors to thank for that but that can be a potty for another time. For now, I’m going to absorb the day, immerse myself in some memories and be thankful for the time I had. I only pray my old troop mates are still out there, keeping us safe and being safe themselves. ☯️
People tend to put a lot of stock and attention into the day of their births. For many, it begins at the very literal day of their birth, where friends and family will gather and celebrate a new addition to the family and beginning of a new life with infinite possibilities and directions. Although there are many cultural and societal origins behind getting one’s cake on during one’s birthday, most sources I’ve read all agree that celebrating the day of one’s birth likely began with the ancient Egyptians, some 3,000 years ago. The population would generally celebrate on the day a new pharaoh was crowned, as this was the day he was “birthed” as a new god. I don’t think I’d get away with trying to proclaim myself as a pharaoh. In modern times, it’s usually observed on the day that one is actually born from their mother’s wombs. This observance usually involves the singing of songs, eating of cake and the giving of gifts to the birthday person. But what purpose does it truly serve?
When one is a child, birthdays can be a fun and exciting day. You get to eat cake and treats, you usually get some gifts out of the deal and if you’re lucky and are attending school, you may have your peers doing something, as well. If you like that sort of thing. For me, I use to absolutely loathe having the entire classroom halted to sing happy birthday to me. So fucking embarrassing… It can seem nice and exciting as a child but as you slowly work your way into adulthood, it can become a tedious hindrance as it seems to be observed more by others than by oneself. Once a person begins to reach adulthood, they’ll often fall under one of two categories; those who are flattered and enjoy being recognized and those who prefer to simply let it pass as just another day. Just like today. Today is a Monday. The sun has risen, I can almost assuredly promise it will set tonight, and billions of people are going on with the daily grind of their lives regardless of this day.
I tend to agree more with the latter. At a young age, I began to acknowledge that my birthday was truly nothing more than a day where I had to get up out of my chair every five minutes for the phone ringing. yes, I’m old enough that I had to get up to use the phone. It was pretty sweet when I was younger and all my relatives would give me birthday cards with cash in them. In retrospect, i wish I had banked all of that cash instead of consistently spending it on toys and useless bullshit. But that’s children for you. Hell, my kids do the same thing now, despite my attempts at bestowing the important knowledge of my experience upon them. But I digress…
These days, I tend to take my birthday as more of a stepping stone to the remainder of the year. A day when others try and recognize that my chronological age has increased by one digit but where I tend to try and stay hidden in a hole until the sun sets and my world can return to some semblance of normalcy. After all, a big point that people tend to forget is that one’s birthday is only one day. There are 364 other days in the year (depending on where in the world you reside and what calendar you observe) and every day that you wake up with air in lungs and life in your body is one you should celebrate. The day of your birth was simply but one of those days. All the subsequent days of your life hold a deeper and more meaningful importance as they likely contains what you DID with that life once it was given to you. And that’s far more worth celebrating than an occasion where your mother was likely in pain; a story she’ll usually be sure to share with you on every birthday (if she remembers). Food for thought… ☯️
The Blogging Buddhist 