Category: Motivation

Here We Go Again, Part 3…

Thomas Wolfe once wrote “You Can’t Go Home Again.” A title that seems pretty apt to my situation. In November of 2023, I faced the inevitability that most children face, where my mother lost decisional capacity for herself and had to be placed in a care home. It was a pinnacle turning point in my life as it meant that I would have to pack up her apartment and do away with the majority of the belongings that she had accumulated in the course of her life. While most children would simply bring most heirlooms and belonging to their own home, living clear across the country made this a bit of a difficult prospect for me. While I did pack and ship some choice items, the majority of things had to be sold, donated or given away. It felt like the surrendering of one’s life, and caused me to take pause and reflect on how the later years of my own life would come to pass. I chronicled this trip in a short series of posts titled “Becoming the Patriarch.” If you scroll through my posts, you find them. The point is, when I came home last May to tend to my father, who was intubated and comatose with no expectation of coming out of the hospital, it was my first time coming home without, well… a home! It was a the first time in my life that I didn’t have a “mom and dad’s” to stay at. No pillow to lay my head where I knew my mother was in the next room. The change in my reality that this caused weighed heavily on my soul during that trip. That reality is all the more palpable this time around.

Yesterday, my day started simply, with a visit to the continental breakfast nook of the hotel. Swallowing my pride and ignoring my usual desire for meat, I enjoyed a small bowl of cereal and a yogurt, which provided what I needed for the morning. I grabbed a shower and slipped on some fresh, untraveled clothing and I was off to the races. A couple of errands later, I had stocked my room fridge with energy drinks and some meal replacement shakes that would make for my lunches throughout the week. For a simple 4-pack of shakes that would make four lunches, I paid as much as I would for one full meal. While meal replacement shakes can’t replace your food indefinitely, it’ll certainly save me some money for the week. My morning went by in a flash and I made my way down the coast to Dalhousie, my childhood home. I’ve traveled to many places in the world but they all pale in comparison to the pristine beauty of the Restigouche Bay set against the backdrop of the Appalachian mountains. The view and the scenery are exquisite; a fact I never recognized or appreciated during my childhood. It’s unfortunate that children always only see what’s immediate and can’t draw their focus outward. Perhaps if I had recognized the beauty in front of me, I would have never left. But I wistfully digress…

My father is a tired man. At the end of his rope, I feel that he has very little fight left in him. Essentially paralyzed from the neck down, he’s incapable of moving, save for his neck and head, and some mild movement of his fingers, mercifully allowing him to switch the channels on his television. Otherwise, he lays at the mercy of the nursing home staff. Nursing homes get a bad rap in general, and for good reason. Overworked and understaffed, they rarely have the ability to care for their residents to the level of quality that one truly deserves at the end of their lives. I walked into my father’s room with the thought that I would be facing an angry, redheaded juggernaut who was pissed off at being alive. Instead, I saw a frail, aging man with no strength left in him. He was sleeping soundly and snoring noisily. I sat with him for a few moments, but for once in my life, the words not said and the silence were too much for me. I stepped out. When I walked into to see my mother, she was awake and sitting in her chair with her arms crossed. She had a look on her face that didn’t express serenity but appeared to hold no immediate concern. As I reached her filed of vision, she frowned at me slightly. As I said “Hi, mom,” she responded in kind but didn’t acknowledge the “mom” part. When I indicated that I was her son, her only response was “Oh, okay.” No recognition or familiarity lit up her eyes. I commented that it had been a while and reached in for a hug. Then, I experienced another first that no child should ever have to; she flinched and recoiled from my reach.

She didn’t yell out, object or indicate any issue but the mild action was enough to send ripples of grief through me that echoed down to my very soul. My mother had no recognition of me. The shouldn’t have surprised me, since her siblings had all visited last week and she knew none of them. But it cemented the fact that in a way, my parents were very much gone. When one loses a parent, there’s a grieving process in place. The loved one is no longer with them. They’re just gone forever and one realized they’ll never see them again in this life. There’s a finality. A sense of closure amongst the grief, if you will. But for my parents, there is no such closure. Instead, they linger. Living fleetingly on the border between life and death. My father, trapped in a prison of his own flesh without any finality, despite apparently being lucid and of full mind (I can’t confirm because I haven’t spoken to him yet), and my mother, who’s there but not “there,” know what I mean? There is no finality or sense of grief0stricken closure. They aren’t;t gone; they simply aren’t fully there, either. The reality was more than my solitary soul could handle. I made my way back out to the car and wept silently by myself, recognizing that the chance of having any meaningful conversations with my parents was gone. There would be no making them proud for my accomplishments, no bragging about their grandchildren with them, no sharing of my life with theirs. Because they had reached the end. It was now just a matter of time.

Once my eyes cleared, I made my way out to my Uncle Danny, who has been helping with the overall care of my parents in my absence. On his last day of vacation, he was enjoying his backyard pool. Considering it was 35 degrees yesterday afternoon, I could hardly blame him. We had some good conversation and I discussed my plans for the week until another guest of his showed up; a colleague from his work who had come to enjoy the pool as well. I thanked him for all his help and excused myself. I made my way back to Dalhousie where I did some light banking and sat at the top of the hill, overlooking the bay. Enjoying some afternoon caffeine, I watched blissfully as the waters of the open bay ebb and flowed. Several boats, both sail and motorized, coast through its waters, enjoying the hot air and beautiful scenery. I must ave spent nearly an hour just sitting there. My hometown always brings wistful memories. Some good, some bad, but all imprinted in my mind as clear as if they happened yesterday. All imprinted as an integral part of my DNA and who I am. In seeing my mother and recognizing that my grandmother had faced the same difficulty, I asked myself if I was fated to eventually forget all these memories as well. That perhaps someday, the imprinted memories that made me who I am disappeared, much as they had for my mother. Once this happened, would I still be the same person? Who would I become? I’ve often asked myself who I am throughout my life. Never quite to this degree.‘

My evening capped off with a visit to Sensei’s home. Always a pleasure to speak with, we enjoyed some good conversation, that included some questions and corrections on my karate forms. It was good to see him. He asked about my family, both here and in Saskatchewan, and lended some sage advice on many aspects of life; something I’ve come to expect and admire about him. It gave the day a positive spin in an otherwise tumultuous cyclone of bullshit I faced while visiting my parents. Life is balance, right? For any negativity, there must be some positive. I made my way back to the hotel and ended my evening by seeing my wife and children over video chat. Short of being home with them, I couldn’t have ended the evening off on a better note. I drifted off to a dreamless sleep. My time here will see me accomplish a great deal, even if I don’t get the answers I came looking for. As with any other great book, eventually you need to finish out the chapter in order to turn the page and keep going. This may be the situation I find myself in now. While I was born and raised here, the chapter of my life that involves Northern New Brunswick may be coming to an end. While my thoughts will always return here, my purpose for being here may soon no longer be. That’s a chapter I”ll need to close in order for me to move on to the next. Such is life. ☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 2…

Considering this is the beginning of my second full day here in New Brunswick, I figured I should get the next post up before memory starts to fade. My flights on Sunday went just about as well as one could expect. The first leg, from Regina to Toronto, saw me relax with a movie and finish out a book I had been reading. However, once I arrived in Toronto and took my phone off of airplane mode, I was hit with a barrage of text messages and emails, outlining that my flight had been delayed by approximately an hour and a half. Fuck. For everyone’s clarity, I chose the early flight that I did because New Brunswick is actually in a time zone that’s three hours ahead of Saskatchewan. So the later I leave, the later in the day I arrive. Couple that with the fact the airport is about a four-hour drive away from my destination, and landing late into the evening becomes a tiring problem. So that hour and half was going to play on me at the other end. Luckily, whatever issue the airline was having got remedied and it was only a forty minute delay.

This forty minute delay was exacerbated by a missing cabin crew member, which meant they couldn’t board the aircraft until this member arrived. Fucking lovely. I landed in Moncton, New Brunswick at about 6:30 pm, local time. My vehicle booking was scheduled for 5:30 and my big fear was that the rental kiosk would be closed. There are no other means of transportation from Moncton to Campbellton short of paying a cab, which would run me up several hundred dollars. Then, I would still face the issue of being unable to get around for the next week AND returning to Moncton. Apparently, the rental kiosk are advised when there are flight delays and they stay open until all flights with potential vehicle renters have landed. I got the keys to my small-sized SUV and hit the highway. The initial leg of the trip north was pretty uneventful; music, singing, sucking back an energy drink and planning out my week in my head. Then, reality decided to slap me in the face…

I reached Miramichi, a small city that usually considered something of an unofficial halfway point between Moncton and the North Shore, without any issue. Besides some frustrating slow drivers, it was uneventful. I decided to play my cards right and stop at the local Walmart to grab some of the small, travel accessories and I would need for my week. I grabbed a quick snack as well and got back on the road. About four or five kilometers up the highway, I came to a blockade that read “Road Closed.” What in the actual fuck??? For reference, Highway 8 is a North/South highway that cuts through a rather large outcropping of the north-eastern part of the Province. Bypassing it and driving along the coast adds almost two hours to the transit. A police vehicle was parked at the boundary, so I parked on the side of the highway and asked him what’s up. He advised that central New Brunswick was currently dealing with a large wildfire that was burning uncontrolled. By virtue of this, the highway was closed due to the danger.

I started to get the definite impression that fate was trying o prevent me from reaching my destination. If you look at the map above, you can clearly see the area circled in yellow is marked off in red. That’s the portion of highway that was closed off because of the wildfire. The detour? A complicated, involved hodgepodge of secondary routes that included some that brought me back a ways south. If I’d had my GPS on when I left the airport, I might have seen this closed portion and could have planned accordingly. In this instance, since I was traveling the highways I had grown up on, I didn’t bother. I guarantee the damn GPS got activated after that. I drove for almost two hours along this detour before I finally got back on Highway, just outside of a small area named Lavilette. Think that little red dash looks small? Insignificant? Not that very far? Let’s put some of that into perspective for you…

The detour has drivers heading North-East on Highway 11, which during the daytime is actually a beautiful and scenic coastal drive. It also takes significantly longer, since it curves outwards along the coast instead of simply cutting straight through. Once you pass a small village called New Jersey (totally not kidding, we have such a place in New Brunswick), you turn onto a secondary back road at a village called Lagaceville. This brings you to Route 480, which eventually brings you back to Highway 8, where one can continue on their way. All in all it adds roughly an hour onto a four hour drive. To add insult to injury, it was dark, these secondary routes weren’t lit and drivers were going significantly below the speed limit. In the end, I walked into my hotel for check in at approximately 10:30 pm instead of roughly 8:30 pm as I had originally planned. Thank god my flight wasn’t any later in the day.

On the brighter side, my front desk clerk recognized me from my visit in May. He commented on how late I was checking in. Not in a sarcastic or rude way, mind you; just asking about how my travels had been. When I explained, he upgraded me to a room with a king sized bed. While generous, I didn’t need extra bed space as I’m sleeping alone. It would have been better to simply have one of my nights comped. But in any case, generous is generous and I thanked him for the consideration. The room’s A/C was blasting and the room was like a refrigerator. Perfect. I always run hot, so after a day’s travel, this was a welcome temperature. I unpacked my necessities for the night and I c rushed. Hard. It was a fitful sleep, as I never quite seem to sleep well when away from home. But I got some rest and made it through my first night. I had a pretty full day yesterday, But I’ll include that in a seperate post, since it might get too lengthy to jam into this one. Needless to say, these won’t be the last hiccups I deal with during my week…

☯️

Here We Go Again, Part 1…

Yup, buckle up, folks… It’s going to be one of THOSE posts! For those of you who read my posts regularly, you may recall that a few months ago, I had to take an unplanned trip back to New Brunswick in order to see to my father who, without any clear explanation of what happened, had to be intubated and was in a coma. The only real explanation I got at the time was that he had gone into the hospital with pneumonia and his lung function tanked, leading to the intubation and transfer to the ICU. Even once I reached the hospital, there were no real answers and I didn’t get to speak with my father as he was unconscious the entire time. Visiting my mother was painful as she’s currently in the full throws of dementia (we think) and didn’t recognize me as her son. All in all, it was a painful trip, and the very first trip where I went home without a home to go to, It was an odd sensation, being back in my home town without a residence owned by my parents to go stay in.

Over the past couple of months, things have not improved. My father faced a number of issues with his ongoing health declination and eventually, he made his way back to the nursing home. I only became aware of this by virtue of my uncle, who was visiting my mother and noted that he was there. Otherwise, neither the hospitals nor the nursing home contacted me to update me that he had been returned. However, despite his return to the nursing home, he is now paralyzed from the neck down and has no mobility in his body at all. This has provided further barriers as I can longer contact him or vice versa. Not that he made much use of the phone prior to that, mind you. So, like the committed son that I am, I’m currently sitting in the airport, patiently waiting for my flight to board. On my way back to my childhood home, I intend to get some answers to how my father has ended up in his current state. And whose ass I need to fuckin’ kick in order to get them…

Obviously, I’m pretty cranky right now. I don’t enjoy traveling at the best of times. But waking up before the roosters do, in order to catch a flight pisses me off even further. Although my plan was to wake up at 4 am, I was awake and tossing at about 2:30, unable to rest knowing how my day would go. Some dishes and final packing details later, my wife and kids valiantly pulled themselves out of bed to drive me to the airport. Some hesitant goodbyes later, and I was printing off my boarding passes and making my way to the security gate. Interestingly, I was selected for random screening and had my bag searched. It was comical but good, as I was able to bypass the waiting line and jump straight to the head of the line. I requested my usual pat down as opposed to going through the gates, to ensure my pump and insulin wouldn’t be put through scanning equipment that could potentially damage the pump or render my insulin inert.

I’ve always admired the screening officers at the Regina Airport. Having travelled all over the world and dealt with various screening agencies, I’ve always been appreciative of how professional and thorough they are. Always apologetic during their search, I’ve grown used to the routine and am completely okay and in agreement with its necessity. But it’s nice nonetheless. Although a hot cup of Tim Horton’s coffee would be nice while I wait, the line of 20+ people discouraged me pretty quickly; especially since everyone and their fuckin’ dog seem to believe they need to have breakfast AT the airport instead of eating at home before getting here. The line would move so quickly if everyone simply ordered their coffee and moved on. reminds me of the good old days when a drive-thru lane was used for single, quick items for faster service, as opposed to the trend that seems to track these days where people will order for a family of five in the drive-thru. Idiots. But again, it’s early, I’m cranky and I definitely digress…

My uncle recently updated me that my mother’s entire family was in Dalhousie visiting, and they all went to see my mother. She recognized no one. I anticipate I’ll have no better luck in having her recognize me either, My father, who is an angry man at the best of times (and I wonder where I get it) will no doubt not be in the “visiting mood,” and I don’t know how productive a visits this will be. I’m just hoping I can at least get some information on what may have caused his paralysis and why he’s now relegated to his bed, probably for whatever years he has left. My hope will be to at least connect with him. It won’t be all bad. I have some visits planned with some old friends and my uncle while I’m down. While not a social trip, it will at least bring a silver lining to the stage of life I’m in. As is my habit, I’ll be posting about my trip throughout; and hopefully include some photos of my beautiful home Province in the process. Stay tuned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop being so fuckin’ stubborn and go get a coffee. ☯️

A Little Sunshine To Your Day…

I notice that I often tend to post about some of the darker, more negative aspects of things, especially when it comes to Diabetes. Sometimes, it’s important to take a moment to reflect on some of the good, which plays a huge role in eliminating the suffering in one’s life. For myself, that the creation of life from nothing, specifically in the form of flowers. I love flowers. Live flowers, that is. Not the purchased ones. In fact, if memory serves me, my very post on this blog a number of years ago was a post about some of the floral life back in New Brunswick.

My flower bed

The irony is that I have very little in terms of a green thumb and in the past several years, I’ve made efforts to try and grow flowers in my backyard. I have small brick circle that used to house a tree. The tree had already been cut and removed when we bought the house but the circle remained. In years past, I’ve thrown some seed in there with very little success. In fact, I’ve usually had more weeds than flowers growing.

Bright colours…

But this year, I took a nuclear (not literally) approach. I started by thoroughly tilling the soil then sifting out weeds, root systems and debris from the dead tree from the ground. I probably worked my way down about three or four inches. Then, I added in some nutrient rich potting soil, mixed with some fertilizers. I sprinkled a variety of flower seed all around the circle and worked it into the soil. Added a bit more potting soil on top, watered consistently and waited.

It’s been well over a month and a half and while patience is a virtue, some greenery started to pop up without any indication of flowers. I began to wonder if I was perhaps stuck with another year of weeds and no flowers. But lo and behold, about a week ago, some flowers finally started to bloom. I think I may have overcrowded the circle a bit; an important lesson to bear in mind for next year. But the flowers are starting to bloom and provide a sanctuary for some of the pollinators in the area.

Some people see growing flowers as a wasted activity. After all, they all die come the end of the season, then you find yourself working just as hard to foster them up the following spring. While some of this is true, it’s not just about the bloom but the journey. There’s a bit of a meditative aspect to planting and growing. And there’s little more that’s quite as satisfying as growing beautiful flowers in your own backyard. We also included some light vegetables this year. It’s a wholesome and pleasant at-home activity for my whole family. ☯️

The Mind Cannot Exist Without The Body…

Alright folks, time for some real talk here… Anyone who has walked in martial arts circles for any period of time has likely heard terms like “mind and body connection,” or “ mind, body and spirit.” But what exactly does that mean from a practical standpoint? Believe it or not, it doesn’t actually mean anything spiritual or mystical. At its core, it simply means that one needs to pay attention to both body AND mind. because no matter which way you spin it, one cannot exist without the other. And it doesn’t actually mean, in fact, go both ways.

Exercise is an important part of maintaining good health and living a good life. Besides reading this here on more occasions than I can count, even couch potatoes would acknowledge that things would be better if they could just get their lazy asses off the couch and do something physical. And no, before you all fill up my comments section, I’m not referring to people who have emotional or physical conditions that make it difficult to get up from their sedentary lifestyles. Although even in those situations, a good part of getting started is popping your clutch and taking a step.

In general, I’ve always said that life can be viewed through the lens of a “holy trinity” of health. Everything alive moves. Everything. Even plants and trees will grow, move and adjust to their environments. Movement, in its increased state, creates energy. This is easily demonstrated by using a bicycle where the more movement is made, the more speed you garner, or hydroelectric dams that creates electricity through water turbines, etc. That energy sustains one’s life. So the formula is simple: Energy creates life. Life creates movement. Movement creates energy. Wash, rinse and repeat. Still with me? Good.

This formula is an important one, because each phase depends on the other two. Eliminating or reducing the one will bring direct conflict and harm to the other two. No energy? You gonna die! No movement? Your energy will falter and same result. Guess what happens if you die? YOU DON’T MOVE! It’s all relative and depends on the individual making an effort to make it happen and maintain it. This is why if you ARE a couch potato and just sitting on the couch, you’re not doing yourself any favours. And as your body fails, your mind won’t be far behind.

An unfortunate example that’s quite close to home is my mother. All her life, she took care of others. Ran errands, cared for family, cooked and cleaned. However, she never exercised, never did anything physical and when she wasn’t running errands or out and about, would sit on the couch and binge-watch game shows. Bear in mind that this started well before the age I’m at now. Today, not only has my mother’s body weakened and is frail, her mind has failed her as well. It’s a stark and sobering reminder of why it’s important to maintain one’s physical AND mental health.

The other side of that coin is Sensei. He’s the same age as my mother. The difference? He committed himself to training and physical maintenance of his body for decades. Now, in his 70’s, he cycles more kilometres than I do. trains in karate five days a week and has more energy than people half his age. Sharp as a samurai sword and twice as deadly. Coincidence? Maybe. I’m not a doctor, so I can’t make a blanket assumption that my mother’s mind is a direct result of her inactivity over the years but the comparison is reasonably telling.

That’s why it’s important to remember that there’s a fine line to walk between resting because you’re tired and allowing yourself to fall into a slump that will be twice as hard ton work your way out of. Your body is essentially an engine. And like any engine, it won’t run properly if you let it sit idle without ever revving enough. Give it the appropriate fuel and run it regularly, mixed with a healthy dose of proper maintenance and you can keep your engine running smooth and easy for years to come. Don’t, and the result will unfortunately show themselves. Or you may not realize, as your mind begins to fail you. In either scenario, get out there and do something. Your body, mind and spirit will thank you. ☯️

Review: Superman (2025) – Some Spoilers

As with just about everything I review, be warned that I WILL be discussing aspects of the film and its plot; so if you haven’t seen the movie yet and intend on doing so, you may want to stop reading here. In all honesty, I’m not an overly big fan of all the reboots that have been happening in the past ten years. Some of the “continuations” are pretty slid, Cobra Kai being one of the best examples that come to mind. instead of rebooting the movie series, they took it upon themselves to continue the story from the 1980’s, effectively introducing a new generation of people to the wonder that is the Karate Kid and the martial arts. I’ve even heard that Tremors (1990) is getting a limited series where Kevin Bacon returns to the town of Perfection to face the graboids again. Not a reboot, per se. But I digress…

Enter: the new Superman film… Like most people, I’m a huge henry Cavill fan and felt that Zack Snyder did a wonderful job of providing that Superman that was both powerful yet susceptible to damage. I genuinely enjoyed Dawn of Justice and the Justice League. Bear in mind that I’m from the Christopher Reeve generation and believe that he is the one and only, true Superman. But henry Cavill fit the role wonderfully. So, I was sceptical when David Corenswet was annouced as the new Man of Tomorrow. I decided not to join the nay-sayers and opted to reserve judgement, good or bad, until I had the opportunity to see the film myself. I’m most pleased to say that I had a “me” date last Tuesday and had the opportunity to watch the film in all its iMax splendor.

Other than the fact that I absolutely LOVE iMax for its huge screen, surround sound and 3D options, I can go on record as saying that I absolutely enjoyed the movie. Superman provided a Man of Steel that was a bit less seasoned, younger and a bit more campy than most other films. I like how they omitted the whole “this-is-where-I’m-from” business, since everyone and their fuckin’ dog know who Superman is. I think we’re decades beyond providing the origin story and departure from a dying Krypton. Nathan Fillion’s portrayal of Guy Gardner’s Green Lantern added some much-enjoyed levity to the plot, and Edi Gathegi’s Mr. Fantastic was spot on. As someone who has read all the iterations, the originals, the New 52, Rebirth, etc… I feel that the film did the Superman mythos justice.

The film opens with Superman crashing into the antarctic snow, battered and bruised. he whistles and calls for Krypto, his trusted Kryptonian canine, to drag him back to the Fortress of Solitude. Once there, the fortress droids use focusing lenses to bombard Superman in yellow Sun energy, healing several brutal injuries that would take forever to heal on their own. The film goes on to explore a lot of modern issues, such as oversees conflicts, political climates, global domination plans and a bit of sci-fi thrown into the mix. Superman’s relationship with Lois is less than the picture-perfect portrayal from the comics. In fact, she suggests at one point that their relationship m,ay not work out.

The Superman from this film is fallible, can be injured and isn’t the all-powerful juggernaut that I’ve come to know and love from my youth. In a way, it’s a bit more on the realistic side and provides a bit more of a relatable character. They certainly delve deep into the modern rhetoric, where everyone has their damn cell phone out, taking photos, bowing to social convention and the pack mentality. The best, is Nicholas Hoult’s portrayal of Lex Luthor. Hoult was pretty solid in the X-men movies with James McAvoy and he played a great zombie in “Warm Bodies.” The recent “Renfield” movie wasn’t worth writing about but he played an absolutely spot on Lex Luthor. Including his unflappable cool, immeasurable logic and intelligence mixed with the genius plans… It smacked of everything Lex Luthor is all about.

In the end, Superman saves the day, defeats and exposes Lex Luthor and shows the world he is the hero they need and deserve. It’s a definite feel good ending that’s sorely lacking in the modern trend of allowing the bad guy to win as some sort of shock and awe tactic for the audience. If you’re looking for a great film, with exciting characters, great effects and a happy ending, Superman may just be the movie for you. And of course, if you have the opportunity to see it in iMax, it’s the only way to fly. Pun fully intended…

Kids Do The Damndest Things…

It’s no secret that having children significantly changes a person’s life. For the most part, having children involves sacrificing a significant portion of one’s previous existence in favour of one that accommodates the needs of the child. While many people boast that having kids shouldn’t change your life, the reality is radically different. The ability to come and go as you please without worrying about babysitting, attending locations that allow children and saving significant time and money are just a few things that change drastically. But even some of the more simple things, that don’t involve any of the aspects named above, can be painfully changed.

One significant example for me, is the ability to train, meditate and sleep at my leisure. In my case, my boys are old enough now that we’re no longer woken at the absolute buttcrack of dawn to a squalling infant who needs direct and immediate attention. But they hinder in other ways. Cue an incident from last week, when I needed to catch up on some kata work I was contemplating. Setting aside for a moment the fact that I’m roughly 3,500 kilometres from my Sensei and get very little correction, I focus my time polishing my forms and kata using Uechi Sensei’s original instructional textbook and the few video clips from Sensei that I have. But the challenge of staying polished is significant, in the absence of an actual dojo to attend.

On this particular date, I had made a point of letting my wife know that I had some kata work to be done and that I would skip supper in favour of getting a workout in before I sat down and the cement dried on my evening. My oldest was camped out on the basement floor where he usually spends his downtime, albeit a ways away from my training area. So, THAT was fine. The problem is usually the 5-year old. Now, I get it… Daddy’s home, he’s been gone all day, a kid wants to see his father. I not only get it but I understand it. But as I’ve often written before, in order for me to take care of others, I need to start by taking care of myself. And taking care of myself means karate.

I had just changed into my karate gi, when my youngest came barrelling downstairs demanding hugs. Okay, hugs delivered. After all, what kind of father would deny his small child a hug? But then, I got down to brass tacks and clearly outlined that he needed to allow me to train or head back upstairs. He wanted to stay downstairs, so I listed three very clear and simple rules for the 30 minutes that would follow:

  1. No talking or loud noises.
  2. No wrestling or fighting with your older brother.
  3. Absolutely NO walking into my training area until I was done.

The premise was simple; I needed quiet to focus and concentrate on my kata. Otherwise, distraction leads to mistakes, mistakes lead tot imperfect form, imperfect form leads to incorrect technique in the event I ever need to defends myself. I stretched and started some simple warm-up exercises, which were going fine. The boys were huddled in my oldest’s corner, mumbling quietly to each other. Fan-fuckin’tastic. Then, right as I was in the middle of the first kata, they both bolted upstairs. Within seconds, there was yelling, crying and fighting on the stairs landing. My concentration broke and my temper flared. I crossed the floor to the bottom of the steps to determine what the hell was going on.

Setting aside that such things can distract me, and I don’t anyone commenting on that fact, they were fighting over who would go outside to move our recycling bin to the road for the following day. Of all things, these little weasels were arguing over who would GET to perform a chore their mother had given. It didn’t take me long to get them in line but the damage had been done. I gave the younger one his things that he had brought downstairs and instructed him to stay out of the basement. I fumed for several minutes and tried to perform some cleaning breathing exercises before throwing in the towel and runnning out to the garage and by ringing off 30 minutes on the punching bag, instead.

When my workout was done and I was sweaty, tired and breathing hard, I sat down on one of the comfy chairs I keep out there, lit a stick of incense and took some time to reflect on what had just happened. Should I have given up so easily? having somewhat remedied the situation, could I not have simply continued my kata workout in the house? A big part of the problem, is I allowed my temper to get the best of me. A positive is that I took it out on the punching bag, which is a darn good way of directing that negative energy. But weighing out the difference between the time I would lose trying to bring myself back to a calm focused point, or simply channeling that energy into a different type of workout became the key point that made the bag more worthwhile.

Children have a direct and significant impact on everything we do, and this includes training. When it comes to something you do as a lifestyle, like martial arts, this can pose some interesting challenges. I’ve introduced my children to martial arts on more than one occasion. The oldest wants nothing to do with it and my youngest usually doesn’t want to focus on technique only wants to spar. Which can be fine in small doses. My point is, as important as it is to make the necessary sacrifices for one’s children, taking proper care of oneself is equally as important. In some cases, even more so. This is because, as I’ve mentioned frequently in the past, one cannot help care for others if they haven’t taken care of themselves first.

So, taking time for yourself to train and practice is important, whether it means setting clear boundaries or training away from home. An important detail is to have a plan “B” in the event your intended workout goes belly up and you have to use an alternative. It’s not always ideal but it’s better than skipping the training. And once you’ve managed to have that “you” time and take care of your training, you can certainly roll around on the floor and play with the kids to your heart’s content. After all, kids won’t understand that you need that time to yourself once in a while. And it’ll be a few years yet before my boys start to realize the importance and have some level of understanding and acceptance. In the meantime, I just need to keep training in whatever way I can. ☯️

That White Gi Needs Some Colour…

I saw a pretty interesting post recently that got me thinking. And I really wish I had saved the post so that I could have shared it here but the way things go for me is, I’ll read or see something of interest and move on. Over the course of a few days, I’ll dwell and think about what I read, which will elicit the drafting of a post. By then, I’ve forgotten where i saw the source information, which shouldn’t be surprising given the number of martial arts pages I’m subscribed to. but, on to the meat and potatoes…

The post I read spoke about how karate isn’t;t pretty. It isn’t about flashy kicks and fancy techniques, looking good or breaking boards. Karate is brutal, effective and to the point. Karate is intended to defend oneself and inherently stop the threat in the most efficient, quickest and brutal manner possible to prevent a continuation of the threat. People pictured their favourite action star and assume that a real fight with a karateka will involve some fancy footwork and graceful dispatch of their opponent.

In reality, someone genuinely seeking to defend themselves or others will take the shortest path between two points. They’ll strike the groin. They’ll gouge eyes. They’ll break bones and render their opponent unconscious. Because at the end of the day, I, or any other traditional practitioner, don’t want the fight to linger or last one second longer than it has to. I can guarantee that none of us wanted to be in the fight to begin with, and likely didn’t instigate it. I can’t speak for everyone else, of course. But in my experience, traditional karate practitioners will carry a “walk away rather than fight” mentality.

In reality, this doesn’t take away from the level and intensity of training required in order to have those skill sets. And this brings my colourful title (pun intended) into play. Sensei used to say that a practitioner whose gi was always Snow White and never had a blemish was probably in the back painting their nails instead of practicing karate. The point was that learning karate in its true form invovles a lot of things that people don’t realize. Injuries, cuts, abrasions and wounds are common. never intentional, mind you, but it’s hard to train to your full capability without the occasional injury or slip up.

A landed hook punch while sparring will cause a nose to gush blood with the best of them. A grappling match will tear and rend fabric, causing holes, wear marks and damaged uniforms. An old adage of traditional karate is that a black belt will eventually turn white. This comes from prolonged and frequent wear and tear, which exposes the while fabric core under the black. The same happens to your gi. And your flesh.

That’s kind of the point. I’ve lost count of how many times one of my fellow students punched me in the face or stomped my toes. Hell, back in ‘23, a black belt managed to fracture three of my ribs during a scored sparring match. The jury’s out, but I’ve maintained that it’s both our faults. I should have blocked and he should have had better control. But shit happens in the heat of the moment during training and accidents WILL happen.

You can’t train in tradition martial arts without getting literal blood, sweat and tears on your uniforms. And you’ll never get anywhere without breaking nails, bleeding and going home with the occasional shiner that will have your mother have a stroke and ask “WHO DID THIS TO YOU???” Ahem,… jus’ sayin’… Totally not recounting previous childhood experiences. But this is an important aspect to keep in mind if you’re on the hunt for a place to train. If you walk in and the instructors all have a pristine gi with no stitching, tears or yellow blood anywhere, if they’re black belts are pristine and black as coal, there’s a good chance the workouts are shit.

This isn’t a universal rule, of course. But it’s a good standard to bear in mind. As I started out by saying, karate isn’t meant to be a sport. It isn’t meant to be pretty, graceful or fancy. It’s meant to be brutal, effective and destructive. And one does not forge a perfect sword without first passing the steel through the fire. Much the same is true of karateka. We aren’t for the faint of heart. Food for thought as you all keep training. Stay healthy, my friends… ☯️

Slow And Steady Wins My Race…

I may have written about this before. Who knows? At this point in my life, I can’t keep half my fuckin’ shit straight with planners and calendars, so I can’t say much. But I wanted to touch on a significant change in lifestyle that I’ve had over recent years that has played a pretty major role in my overall health and wellbeing. It’s something most people don’t recognize or acknowledge within themselves but I’ve been fortunate enough to grab onto it. I’m talking about slowing down…

To be clear, I don’t mean slow down while driving. I still exist in a perpetual state of heavy-footed goodness and I don’t envision that changing anytime soon. And light help you if you slow down in front of me WHILE I’m driving behind you. But I digress… No, I mean slowing down in the sense of approaching the daily grind on a much slower scale. For decades, I spent every morning where I would it the ground running and keep up the pressure and speed until my head hit the pillow at the end of the day.

Certainly as one begins to get older, one recognizes that there’s an inherent value in seeing the importance of slowing down. As a child, I used to become incensed whenever I would walk with my mother, because she would shuffle along at a slow gait that took twice and often three times the amount of time that normal walking should. She had no health issues or problems that caused this, she simply chose to go that slow. I would often try to coax her along, to which she would usually reply, “There’s no hurry and this is a fast as I’m going. So you can deal with or you can slow down with me.”

For decades, it drove me nuts because I always felt like I had to get the task done so I could move on to the next one as quickly as possible. I often lacked the vision that my mother had, where there was nowhere we NEEDED to be and we could take our time; something people very rarely see. By virtue of this, she would often be of the opinion that there was nowhere need to hurry, since the task would get done regardless. I never recognized the importance of this until the past few years.

As a law enforcement officer, I always had somewhere to be and someone’s wellbeing often depended on how quickly I would respond. Stands to reason. Even in the more administrative side of things, I was always rushing, in a harassed state, and striking the panic button when my tasks became many. No matter what job I held or what position it entailed, I would often be at work nearly an hour before my scheduled time, putting in extra work, rushing to get things done early and stressing myself beyond reason.

In recent years, I’ve changed gears. Now, when I wake up in the morning, I spend the first ten minutes sitting at my desk instead of rushing to shower, shave and dress. I start the morning with those first few sips of caffeine, take my meds (Diabetic bullshit) and check my news feeds. I usually touch on a few daily tasks in some of the games I play on my devices, since I can’t do this at work. Then, in the comfort of my jammies, I prepare my work bag and my lunch and start to move towards a hot shower and slowly get dressed, often while sharing “good mornings” with one and/or both of my sons, who usually don’t sleep in even if they’re perfectly positioned to do so.

Once ready, I make my way to my vehicle where I casually make my way towards the office. Music playing and sun shining, I focus on the songs and not on what work tasks may be waiting for me once I arrive. I think and look forward to the more pleasant aspects that I’ll experience towards the end of my day, including having dinner with my wife, playing with my children or just flat out relaxing at home. The difference is I walk into work with a sense of purpose but without being pent up with stress that hasn’t yet been justified or needed.

The results I’ve seen include less tress, more calm, less irritability towards my colleagues and staff and it contributes to lower overall blood pressure. Too many people spend their lives dealing with a state of hypertension due to job-related stress. While it’s important to have coping mechanism outside the job to deal with that stress, and I’m not talking drinking or smoking but things like meditation, relaxation exercises or even things like gardening or sitting out on a deck and watching nature, how you approach you day and address it go was a long way, as well. One should never have to “get through” or “face” their day. It’s far more important to experience the day, or live it. This will contribute to better overall health and much better outlook on life. Food for thought… ☯️

Unintended Dependences…

I remember my childhood with bittersweet fondness. The reason I say bittersweet certainly includes the Type-1 Diabetes diagnosis I got at the tender age of 4. I lived a simple life, even before that. Unlike many people who are diagnosed, I had no “bad habits” to speak of, no addictions to sugary products and no horrible diet. This, in part, was due to my older brother and his own ailments, which kept anything artificial, sugared or high in sodium out of the house. By virtue of this, the biggest pain in my ass (literally) were the insulin injections. Otherwise, I was an overall pretty content child.

One of the best aspects that I can remember from my childhood is a lack of dependence on technology. The concept of “binge-watching” television wouldn’t become a prominent aspect of home life for another thirty years. Computers in the home weren’t common. Cell phones weren’t a domesticated thing. When I woke up in the morning, I had breakfast, at. A dining table and conversed with family. this was followed by either school or playing with toys and/or going outside. My entertainment came from my own imagination as opposed to streaming clips of random people doing weird bullshit out in society for my enjoyment. It was simpler time.

As I got older, friendships developed and my time was spent playing away from the home. Once I learned to tell time., I had a simple wristwatch and was given a curfew. As long as I was back by that time, my parents rarely knew where I was, what I was doing or who I was with. There was a simple freedom to it all; knowing that if one needed a touch of peace, one could escape to the cliff-side ledge I used to sit on, that looked out over our open bay, or sit on the stone outcrop atop Dalhousie Mountain and stare out at kilometres of lush boreal forests spreading south of me. If someone wanted to get a hold of me, they’d call my home, where a message would be taken and not delivered until I decided to return.

While the respective peace of my childhood is greatly missed, this isn’t to mean that I don’t have a fond appreciation for the advancements in technology that we’ve made over the past several decades. After all, those advancements have brought me from manual insulin injections and poorly controlled blood sugars to a world of insulin pumps, constantly monitored and adjusted blood sugars and better health. I predict that in the next couple of decades, I may find my way into something akin to never having to address my Diabetes again, even if it means it’s controlled and monitored by technology instead of me.

The negative side to all of these advancements comes from how society uses the technology. Privacy, while deeply coveted by most, has become a thing of the past. People can reach you anywhere, anytime, at any hour via cell phones. Apps, devices and even our televisions listen to us and make “recommendations” or “suggestions” based on our habits, preferences and even what we say in a room. It’s no coincidence that if I mention to my wife that I’m craving pizza, an ad for a pizza chain will “coincidentally” pop up on my social media feed. Big brother is always watching.

But we’ve become inadvertently tethered to our technology. I’ll be the first to admit that I’d be in horrific health, if not for my continuous glucose monitoring system. But we all have our devices, our smart phones, our streaming services… And they effectively govern our lives, now. No one ever needs to try and find directions somewhere or ask for them; just look it up on your phone. No one ever needs to research a particular topic. Why would you, when you can just Google it? Ever sit in public transit or in a food court? No one is usually speaking; everyone has their eyes down at their phones. A major pain in my ass when I’m trying to walk from point A to point B and some wretched son of a bitch is walking into me because his eyes are on his fuckin’ phone… But I digress…

Technology is fast becoming a commonality in daily life, with many aspects of it considered more of a necessity than a luxury. In many ways, this is reminiscent of when cars were invented and became common. While only the wealthy may have initially taken advantage, eventually it became a necessity for most family households to have at least one vehicle. The same can be said now, with the internet. In the 1990’s, the internet was that annoying thing that took almost ten minutes to get connected, where a full page would take minutes t boot up and would usually have that shitty 8-bit feel to it, with no picture resolution and everything seemed to be written in Times New Roman.

These days, the internet, and more specifically wifi, controls almost everything. Our phones, tablets, computers and televisions are primarily wifi-driven. And even some smart homes are designed with their critical functions tethered to the home’s wifi. So this begs a very important question; what happens when your wifi fails? My family and I discovered this the hard way this past weekend. After a brief power outage, we realized our wifi connection was no longer maintaining itself. After attempting resets and reboots on my own, a short call to our service provider confirmed it; our modem was outdated and would no longer function. A situation brought only to light by the brief outage of power.

It was Friday night, a night famous in my household for gaming and movies with my oldest, who has never known a world without internet and devices. I made my peace a long time ago with the fact that my children would never have the childhood I did. But I never realized just dependent they were on internet until this weekend happened. The earliest we could attempt a fix would be Saturday afternoon. This was made possible only if I brought the old modem into my local provider’s store and got an upgraded replacement and installed it myself. Waiting for. A technician would require a further number of days.

Anxious to restore the status quo, I got up first thing on Saturday morning (my usual morning to try and sleep in) and made my way into the downtown area to hit up the shopping mall that held my nearest supply store. I hate crowds of people at the best of times. Hobnobbing with shoppers on their weekend excursions did NOT appeal to me. But i got the replacement modem and installed it on my own. Using the instructions the tech on the phone provided the previous evening, I was able to get it up and running and connect wifi to our television and devices around the house. A collective sigh of relief ensued.

It was barely twenty four hours but it was a significant wake up call for me to realize that my family was utterly dependent on the internet. Despite books, toys, puzzles and games, the outdoors, the almighty Skynet still reigns. Ultimately, there’s no putting pandora back in the box. Technology, barring some major global catastrophe, will continue to evolve and improve our lives in some ways. But it will also strengthen our dependence on it in other ways. is it a bad thing? Time will tell. But it’s important to remember that we’re still human. And as humans, we should occasionally take the time to sit on a stone outcrop and stare at the sea. Food for thought…☯️