Addictions

Okay, it's time to come clean.

I've been keeping something from you. Well not all of you. Most of you.
And not for very long, should you think that this relationship of ours isn't based on trust or friendship or random thoughts of an amusing nature, or glimpses of my life in short bursts. Cuz it is, really. It's just that I wanted to make sure that what I was keeping from you was really something that I would carry with me, going forward, and not just minor baggage of a personal nature.

Like that whole finger table saw incident. minor baggage . By now it's minor, it wasn't at the time, no, of course not. At that time it was life changing for awhile, and a source of amusement and stories and much ponderance but we've healed and grown and are better for it, so its not news. Though looking at pictures of it right after the mayhem of that day, and the subsequent healing period with the stitches and bandages, and stuff, that was kinda creepy.

This isn't like that. or the cutting vegetables time, and the stitches and waiting and stuff. no. this is less drastic in a physical respect, but more personal in nature though still life altering, maybe, we'll see how it plays out. Bookmark this post and we'll come back to it in the future and see.

I have a secret, and it's time to let you in on it.

It started by accident actually, just a little bit at first, and it was great! I tried it a little at a time, then a bit more, then the first stuff wasn't enough; it wasn't cutting it, so I progressed to bigger things, and soon was in a bit over my head, spurred deeper into it by a well meaning, trusted friend, who delighted in each step down the path with me, reinforcing the need, pushing me to try new, more powerful things, risking things to see where I'd get to.

It was hard to put down, not that I couldn't quit if I had wanted to, but I didn't want to. I started to dream about it, about what I could do, how I could experience things through it, where it might take me. For awhile I didn't want anything else. Didn't need anything else.

And when I went a few days without it, like on vacation to Disney World in early December, it found me, even then. Just a little bit though, but it was enough to give me that lift I needed.

It got so bad there in Florida that even the family tried it, all three of us, together in a room with strangers, as a group, each of us trying to capture that feeling, that quality that we sought. I think the boy has it in him to be like me that way. Not his mother though, she tries it, but it doesn't do anything for her, and she's okay with that.

It just isn't her. She can't draw or sketch to save her life. No artistic talent. It's sad actually.

Wait, what did you think I meant?

I started drawing! At first, last summer, it was quick sketches of cartoon characters. Like Mickey:

And my personal favourite, Donald:

They weren't bad! And I enjoyed the quick process, Post-it note sized sketches that captured the essence of the characters, the expressions. But I needed something more. I wanted to try something new. So I went and bought some supplies, acrylics and brushes and some canvasses, and took a few of my favourite sketches and made them bigger. Much bigger. 16 x 20 bigger:

And I loved how they turned out.

So I shared this new pastime with a few close friends and they encouraged me to try new things, colourful things, and then I put out my first challenge to myself, to paint a few characters for friends for Christmas. What could it hurt? I was confident I could do it - my friends would enjoy them - though I'd never tried real painting before - and I never thought about what if these look like crap? Looking back that could have been a very real possibility.

I just jumped in and went for it, and enjoyed the process, and the outcomes:

Since Christmas I've keep up at it, trying new things, like doing one for the boy:

And then I had the grand idea to try Captain Jack Sparrow - a real portrait, not a cartoon. I don't know what I was thinking. I've never painted a person before. Worse yet I posted on TourGuideMike.com about my efforts and a shot of the sketch:

I had to keep up with it. I'd laid down the public challenge to myself. That was last Monday. By Friday he was finished:

So that's what's new; that's where I've been; what I've seen, and how its turned out so far.

It's been a rush.




(and I should point out that the characters depicted above are copyright Disney, created by me without permission)

Intended outcomes

It's been another good week bad week type of deal this past week; the weather is finally coming around to the idea that Spring is a real condition, not just just an imagined concept, and so we've enjoyed some melting which has left things dirty and slushy and a pain to manouvere through, and some rain to wash that melting down with, followed by just enough snow and sleet to keep us humble. It's a slow process, we get that.

The boy's hockey is winding down now too, his team's run at the City championship fell short again this year, but they eeked out a winning season, and that's more than most of his teammates have been able to say at this time of year for a few years now. They are in the midst of their final tournament of the season, a last group of games with the boys who came together back in October and who have become friends since, not that friendship was the intended result when we signed up for the year, but it is one of the best benefits of sports. Personal growth is right up there too.

I watched my son get rocked by a high hit in a game last Friday, the force of which, combined with his ever increasing height and not so quickly increasing mass, sent him flying backward and resulted in his head being snapped back and impacting the ice behind his team's net. I know my son, and a hitblike that will do one of two things; get under his skin and make him angry, or hurt him enough to get him angry. He comes by both responses naturally, trust me. So I wasn't surprised to see him pick himself up, check to see who hit him, and then carefully make his way to the bench, glancing back at the play and deciding against getting involved once more should he suffer a similar fate.

The opposing team was bigger, stronger, faster, and on this day, better prepared to win the game. These things happen in sport, and in life, and you accept them and deal the best you can. When you are 12 though it can take some time to learn that lesson of patience and acceptance - especially if the adrenalin is pumping vigoriously through your veins and you have a score to settle. I met him at the rinkside gate and got him to the dressing room, to assess both his physical and mental states, and was not surprised to find both hurting. He's developed into a competitor this year, not wanting to back down and not wanting to miss a moment of the action, and was more upset at the idea that his day might be done because of that hit and the accompanying headache than the fact that he was hurt in any way.

He returned to the game, and true to form attempted to settle his personal score in the third period when the opportunity presented itself, but that bigger, stronger, faster, aspect of the opposition was enough to thwart his best efforts, and he wound up just missing his intended targets repeatedly on one shift, and his patience was exhausted, and his self control depleated as well, and upon his return to the bench at the end of his shift, he exploded in a rage of uncontrolled, ego-induced frustration, the likes of which most parent's have witnessed in private in those demonic states of teenagerdom, and suffered a necessary meltdown.

It earned him some time on the bench, and some private time with each of the team's four coaches, and like the whirlwind that is adolescent emotion, it blew through him quickly and then he was fine, the rage quelled, the dust settled, and life, and the game went on. After the game on the drive home, we talked about the causes of the meltdown and how difficult it can be at times to deal with ego and it's wounded pride, but how the struggle for control of one's emotions is essential in life. A rage fuelled outburst is a Genie that can't be put back in the bottle, it has consequences that must be met, regardless of your intentions. Saying "I didn't mean for it to happen" doesn't change what did happen, or how it affcted those around you, and you have to take responsibility for the outcomes.

All four coaches confided that afterwards he was very responsive to their attempts at helping him regain control, and personally thanked each of them for their efforts, and promised such a loss of control and emotional explosion would never happen again.

I don't care what the team's record of wins and losses was for the season; like the friendships that happened along the way, that kind of personal growth, while not the intended outcome, is a consequence of which he can be proud for a lifetime. That is true success.

Sports and Life and Kindergarten

When the final buzzer sounded the scoreboard read 3-2, and while one team celebrated by mobbing their goalie in front of his net, the other stood around on the ice in front of their bench, bewildered perhaps, disappointed for certain, wanting nothing more than to leave the ice and retreat to the confines of the dressing room. But as is tradition, the players wait for the other team to finish celebrating the win, and then line up at centre ice to shake hands with each other, the sportsmanlike way to end a competition neither wanted to lose but only one was destined to win.

The boys lost their game Wednesday night, their 3rd in 4 nights thanks to an overtime tie on Sunday that forced an entire new game to be played the next night to determine who would advance to Wednesday’s game. In that replayed game, the boys dominated and had determination and fire and a purpose, and willed the outcome early on in the contest. Both teams were aware of what was at stake; lose and your playoffs would be over, win, and you continue to play towards the B-side final, where the eventual winner will face the A-side champs in a 3 game series.

It was not the same level of play or effort that they brought to Wednesday’s game, against a new opponent from the other city division, a team that had only won one game in the regular season, but which had already won 2 in the playoffs prior to this game. Overconfident? Perhaps. Tired? Maybe. Both likely played a factor to some degree, but I think the overwhelming determinant in the outcome was a team-wide indifference to the opponent. There was no history, no personal battles to overcome or settle between players, no grudge that pushes one to higher levels of performance to best the other. They didn’t win their final game, very few teams do, but they did have a successful season measured in terms of personal and team growth and especially in terms of friendships. Still, the season came to an abrupt end.

We accept that finality when we enroll our children in sports programs, that there will be winners and losers – there has to be in competition – even if you removed the scoreboard and told the kids the outcome of the game didn’t mean anything, that it was just for fun, they’d still know which side scored more often. It’s human nature to know. It’s encoded in our DNA from back when we had to outrun the lions for survival. You knew which side was winning or losing; you had to know, or you got eaten. Talk about losing.

But we also teach our children that sharing and getting along with others and being polite and considerate are important traits and values. We grade them accordingly on their kindergarten reports, and then somewhere along the line we blur the rules and values and introduce competition within that framework – a necessary tool for self growth, and for the advancement of society itself, and a natural trait shared by all species on this planet – and we heap praise on those who excel, and spend considerable time and money on those who fall a bit short of the expected means and norms, whether due to aptitude, motivation, or will.

Our societies require persons of all abilities and aptitudes to work together for the betterment of all, in whatever meaningful ways they can. There is a commonality of purpose that they should all benefit and be allowed to enjoy the same basic human rights and freedoms, with an expectation of fairness and justice that we first introduced as parents and reinforced in the school setting in those early years. But then we remember that other basic trait of human survival – competition, and when we throw in the element of greed, things start to get complicated. Everyone wants to win – ask the boy’s hockey team and their opponents. But winning fairly and winning justly are really what we want when we compete. Winning due to an unfair advantage isn’t sportsmanlike.

In sports we agree to a set of rules, and ensure we have competent referees on hand to enforce those rules. We also agree to the penalties meted out should those rules be broken. And then we compete. Yes there are risks involved. And sure the refs may make mistakes – they are human after all – but we teach the participants to respect the rules and the referees no matter the outcome, and as coaches and parents we further agree to provide the necessary guidance to help ensure this is done in a safe and fun environment to minimize the risks of injury involved. Is it perfect? No, but it does a pretty good job. And if necessary, the rules are tinkered with to perfect them and level any inequalities or to better suit the participants. We don’t let the important games get played without the rules or the referees – that’s just asking for trouble.

Ask those who have been foreclosed thanks to the Wall Street mortgage fiasco. Or those swindled by phony investment schemes and the con men that pedal them. Where are the values of being considerate and polite and getting along well with others in that context? Where’s the sportsmanship? At least in the kindergarten classroom we trusted that the teacher would be watching to ensure fairness and order prevailed. As adults we trust that we will deal with each other with that same intention. We should know better. Anyone who grew up with siblings knows Darwin was right – survival of the fittest is law. You learn fast to adapt and overcome in order to compete – whether it’s for the last piece of chocolate cake, or the front seat, or the bigger bedroom. Mom and dad can only referee for so long. Life isn’t fair no matter how much we delude ourselves that it should be, or can be. But should it be lived with an eye towards greater sportsmanship?

It takes time to perfect rules for any sport – any activity for that matter – its part of the human condition; we need boundaries and guidelines within which to operate. Part of that condition also acknowledges and requires consequences of action, Newton’s 3rd law of motion got that one right, but maybe what we also need is a shift in consciousness back towards the entire group as a whole. Maybe we got it more right back in kindergarten than we know.

Maybe we need to bring back Time Outs. At the very least let’s bring back Snack and Nap time.

Connections

The sun is streaming in through the window of my relocated office, washing the long desktop in warm bright light already at this hour; a sure sign Spring is coming, though we still wouldn't know it by stepping outdoors. It's been another cold week, and if one believed in the saying we teach to elementary school children, this would be the March Lion arriving, soon to give way to that loveable Lamb who, religious undertones aside, will usher in April and Easter this year.

We've given up on shovelling the driveway. Well, we being me, the one who does such things, and with the cold and flu that has gripped our house of late, outdoor chores like keeping the drive clean and being watchful for those dreaded ice dams over the entryways have seen very little improvement since mid February. Luckily Mother Nature has cooperated during our time of ill health, and has seen fit to keep the new snowfall amounts to a minimum, and nary a melting temperature anywhere near us, so things have been just fine. Of course some of the retirees on the Bay don't take to the chores so nonchalantly - its a routine that must be followed and so their walks and drives continued to be spotless while those more busy with life and chasing kids and sicknesses and the like can be spotted easily if you care to watch as you drive past.

It's hockey playoff time, so we've spent much more time lately in various rinks across the City watching not only the boy's games, but those of his friends and former teammates, cheering and supporting them on and reacquainting ourselves with friends we haven't seen since football season or last hockey season before we joined the A1 team last October. It's a welcome sense of community when you walk into an arena and see familiar faces with ready smiles and eager ears and a desire to share with you the latest news from their corner of the sporting world.

Of course for some the news involves more meaningful topics, depending on how well you were acquainted with the bearer of the news, and as you listen and laugh and share, you realize how important it is to stay connected, especially during the dog days of winter, when shutting yourself off becomes very easy to do. For this crowd here tonight at the rink, this is our Sunday after Church community visit; our town hall meeting place; our common altar 200 feet by 85 feet, frozen solid, adorned with red and blue lines. A place for kids to play and compete; a place for parents and friends to watch and cheer, some more loudly and more vocal than others, and some offer more criticism than encouragement - a slice of the larger community as a whole.

I realize as I watch these playoff games that it is much easier to enjoy the game as a game if you have little vested interest in the outcome - especially if two of your former teams are pitted against each other - makes it difficult to choose sides so you fly the Swiss flag and play Neutral - as opposed to watching the boy's team, where the outcome is more closely connected to your heart and your focus more squarely placed on a few select individuals. You vow to remind yourself of that insight the next time he plays...

It is at these playoff games where the boys (and girls) who have come to watch, and who currently play on different teams but have past connections, reveal that they are still indeed kids - 12 year olds in this case - as they run together in groups around the stands, moving throughout the game, playing and bonding and cementing the friendships that are the real reason we encourage them to play sports in the first place. They could just as easily be at home in front of some game system or computer or face stuck inches away from a smartphone screen, but they are here, together, in person, connected.

Connections. They are important for us, and we forget that until we lose them, or neglect them, and then we're quickly reminded that we are not alone nor do we wish to be. We need the interaction, the magnification of our human experience that comes from sharing it with others to enrich our lives, to sustain us during the quiet times, the lonely times, which we need as well. The contrast between them is what makes each of them so worthwhile. Like Winter ever-changing into Spring, the contrast is what makes the change so inviting. Take that with you as you move about your day, cherish the stillness when you find it, but welcome the calamity and 'noise' that breaks that still silence, and lets you know you're living a life worthwhile.