The road less cycled

My internal clock must certainly be on Tokyo time by now. I got home from work early in the morning, around 3 or so, and decided to take a bath. In the bath I read Snyder and had two apples and eventually drifted off to sleep. Around 6:30 a.m. I left the bath and pulled out my futon, meaning to go to a Poetry Slam and an oil change, but completely slept through both, waking up in time for some delicious pea soup.

I’d been away or sleeping ever since Funny was put to sleep, so this was the first chance to give her a proper burial. (Papa wasn’t about to do it; he’s dug enough holes for animals in his time, and it wouldn’t have been right to do it without me anyway). We decided to bury her out in the Field, by the stream somewhere.

It’s the same Field where I spent countless hours throughout high school. A roughly 15 acre parcel bisected by a slowly meandering stream with a green belt on either side of it. It’s usage has been evolving for a long time now, from the time the first settlers cleared it for livestock to the current plans for a modern athletic facility. When we moved in around 8 years ago, there were some cattle. When the cattle were taken away, the former residents still came and mowed the hay for a few years. That was always an interesting time; until they came to mow the hay, the grass was easily waist high, and we’d take our wheelbarrows and make paths and play hide and seek while avoiding the goose poo. After the hay was mowed, the field would be dotted in square bales of hay, and then later with big hay-filled marshmallows that just begged to be climbed on.

Then we had some horses, in exchange for free riding lessons for my sister. They stayed for a few years, with some coming and going all the time. Recently it’s been a mere soccer field, and a bumpy one at that.

I spent many days there, observing the birds and wildlife. I’d spend hours cutting away blackberries so the native shrubs could re-generate and provide habitat for the hummingbirds. I noticed literally every sapling that sprouted in the riparian area along the creek, cutting back the blackberries when they began to encroach on the young tree’s growing space. Not that I hated the blackberries (who could?). There were simply too many of them.

Then I grew busy with paid work and university, though I spent much time in my vegetable garden as well. I visited less and less often, and these days the only times I pass through are when I plunge down the hill from the bus-stop on the way home. Much of the work I did will be undone; blackberries grow so unbelievably fast. My main goal was to give the native vegetation enough of a headstart that it would shade out the blackberries and escape from that suffocating blackberry blanket.

So today, going for a walk there for the first time in what feels like forever, was a joy to my spirit, almost like meeting an old friend or someone’s all grown up kids. Seeing the alders and birches and cottonwoods that were my height when last I saw them, that are now the height of a three story building. The grove of Pacific Willow that was just a small stand. The hard-hack, or Douglas Spirea, that was threatened by blackberry but is now a self-sustaining patch too dense for blackberry to penetrate. This is a recovering ecosystem that impacts the entire length of Downes Creek right to the Fraser River, and the more the vegetation recovers the better the water quality will be.

Boy, I really am a tree-hugger aren’t I? I know these plants, not just the species, but the individual, better than I know some of my acquaintances. I hope to come back there when I’m 100 and be able to say, you know, I planted that cedar in 2000; just look at it now.

I was there of course, because we were burying Funny. We chose a small, quiet grove of alders. I remember getting angry when Alca, a big black horse with a bit of Arabian in her, and Shazzan, the senior member of the herd, used to rub themselves on those alders when they were just saplings and tear them apart. Now their trunks are 20-30 cm. across, and their leading branches some 15m high.

Underneath them it is quiet and calm; stray rays of sunshine penetrate inside and robins call all around. A black-head grosbeak lands briefly before continuing on. Here, where the stinging nettles are as high as my face, and the grasses just about to go to seed sway and rustle in the breeze, is where we buried Funny, our dear companion. The alders are protected because they are in the mandatory streamside setback that must be adhered to even when they build a track in the field.

One day, just maybe, if transience permits, I’ll take my kids here, or maybe I’ll just be by myself, and the alders will be tall and dying and seed-laden, replaced with the next generation of trees, of hemlocks and cedars, and if I have kids they’ll ask me why I look so solemn, so thoughtful and pensive. And I’ll say, “well, it’s a Funny story…”

It’s almost 4 a.m. and I’ve very recently gotten off work at Domino’s, and start in about 6 hours at my other job, in Chilliwack this time, before heading back to Domino’s again for another evening. 17 hour work day upcoming. Hooray. I’m not sure if I’ll sleep much; I need to write, more than I need to sleep right now, just to bring some closure to her leaving. I’m afraid I’ll have to be brief as my eyes continually close and my head droops as I listen to CIVL radio’s Jazzy Joel who has now inexplicably fallen silent.

Funny’s left us now, no more to swish her bushy tail from the windowsills, or drape herself around my neck, or sink her claws into my arm or leg repeatedly in that kneading motion that cats have. She would do that with particular forcefulness when she was hungry. You could always tell how hungry she was by how hard she dug her claws in.

We made the decision today to speed her inevitable departure from this world; hyperthyroidism and kidney failure and some anemia had robbed her of all body fat reserves, leaving her with no strength to even lift her head at the end. The interplay of ailments and the sudden manifestation of them was too much for her to handle; there had been signs for some weeks, and had she gone to the vet earlier complications might have been avoided, but procrastination won the day and now Funny is gone.

I’ll miss her; I already do. On the cost breakdown from the Clearbrook vet, she was listed as “Funny van der Kroon” and that is appropriate. She truly was a part of the family. Many nights when she was younger she would seek out my bed as a warm place to sleep, curling up at the end or under the covers, and sometimes with her paws delicately placed just below my eye where one claw contraction might have damaged my eyes, but somehow she seemed to know the danger and never once made me feel at risk.

There are pictures of her on my Facebook account, for those on my FB list. I feel her departure deeply. She was a staple and a fixture in my life (many thanks to Clarinda for her daily commitment to caring for her) and now that time is over and the next time I see her will be in some other dimension where she will be free to go where she pleases, indoors and outdoors and there will be innumerable mice for her, the savage little murderer who was never happier than in the aftermath of a kill.

Until then, Funny. Thank-you for the last decade, you gentle little bloodthirsty sleek furred golden-eyed black epitome of feline beauty.

Why do I bother with my incessant discussion and negotiation. It`s an unbelievably slow way of going about things, and tremendously frustrating. To navigate the complex web of human emotion and psychological workings to arrive at mutually satisfactory conclusions unimpeded by egos and biases can try a dead man`s patience. Everybody seems to have to cling to their stubborn tendencies, refusing to simply see reason, work together, and work things out so that in the end, teamwork is used to arrive at a common goal. One is convinced that it`s not worth saving money because we`re going to end up with a one world government where money is useless. Another isolates himself from his family choosing to consult only with one close companion and only talking things over when coaxed and prodded into doing so. Another goes off on long-winded rants that solve nothing and only create discord and frustration. Another is too quiet and seemingly apathetic to stimulate any action and dialogue. Why can`t people just realize that teamwork isn`t easy and takes work but in the long run is a lot easier than stubbornly forging your own path?

That`s certainly what I`m tempted to do – if no-one really wants to work together, well, fuck it, I`ll strike out on my own and find my own path. I`m more than capable, there`s lots of work and I have friends and I can live simply my own way. But that`s not the way of a leader; not the way of someone committed to making things work, to finding solutions, and committed to motivating those around him to be energized to work together towards solutions. Inevitably, when discussion and dialogue does happen, things clear up and we appreciate each other`s perspectives more, but at other times, like now, everybody seems so obstructionist and self-centred that I despair of getting anything done any other way than simply plowing ahead and doing my part and hoping others follow my lead.

How can I do better? I need to be more articulate; more enthusiastic, and lead by example better. For starters, having the discipline to avoid late nights and embrace early mornings, but also managing my finances better; prioritizing; and recognizing that my role might be that of the liaison, the facilitator, an essential role in any group, and one that requires a healthy measure of patience and perseverance.

That’s my rant for the evening. It’s written in haste and frustration, while the iron is still hot from the forge, so take it with a grain of salt.

SD’s been writing these long notes on Facebook that have gotten me thinking. Nevermind that it’s 2:43 a.m. – that’s when I write my best stuff anyway. It’s when my inhibitions are dropped and I just spew out whatever comes to mind. She’s been writing about relationships, essentially spilling out the story of the ones she’s been through, displaying a lot of brutal honesty and awareness of the complexity of social relations, not simply bashing her exes but actually getting at the gist of what went wrong and even assigning herself some of the flack where appropriate. SD of course, is dating my brother and may end up being my sister-in-law at some point. I’d not be surprised.

What this all brings to mind is, unlike SD, the dearth of romantic relationships in my life. The one and only that I’ve found myself in was more testing the waters than anything else, just feeling my way around trying to get a handle on this whole relationship thing. Not surprisingly, given my lack of experience with women and her experience level with guys, that one didn’t last long. She’s been seeing various people for the last 6 or 7 years, and as such was at a completely different level than I was. After being together for a short period of time during which we did quite a bit together, we parted ways at her cue, very amiably and with no hard feelings. For that, I’m thankful. Today we’re still good friends, and that is something I value. I’ve never understood how people can allow something as mysterious and unquantifiable as romance, or rather, failed romance, to create an impassable rift between them. You were attracted to each other in the first place, so don’t throw away that connection entirely, surely there’s still value in it. Doing so is allowing pure emotion to dominate, and sometimes you just have to bottle that up, use some logic, and enable yourselves to avoid the heartache and turmoil that come with a bitter, emotionally violent break-up.

So that first relationship didn’t last very long despite all the things we had in common. Perhaps we almost had too much in common. Or I didn’t bring enough that was new to the table – most of what I knew, she knew and then some, with the exception of botanical and naturalistic knowledge. Botanical and naturalistic knowledge – that’s what I gained from those years where I was content to simply ramble the woods on my own. Socially, I didn’t think or act the same way as everybody else. I never really felt comfortable in social situations, and felt most inclined towards solitude. So that’s what I chose, at the expense of cultural and social awareness. I think, also, that the personality traits I struggle with manifested themselves – I can be very self-centred at times, and to include one or multiple other people in my circle of awareness can be difficult. The fact that I have a tendency to be rather scatterbrained and dreamy probably didn’t help much either – a good dose of focus, discipline, drive, and energy would go a long way. Abandoning the path of complacency, the “it’s all good, don’t worry about a thing” and overall lackadaisicallity that I see as hallmarks of my personality could use some re-examination.

She could be considered the latest in a long string of wonderful women to try to drum up a little something extra out of me. Throughout most of high-school I didn’t take much notice of the women around me. Certainly I had the petty infatuations and crushes, but never acted on them, being far too shy and reticent to do that, and even too much so to be receptive to any girls/women who hit on me. Even so, I can remember several girls who seemed to recognize something a little different about me and who expressed curiosity in that, and tried to draw out the stifled personality underneath all the shyness and self-consciousness. Perhaps most obvious was KB, who seemed continually frustrated at my lack of responsiveness. But even that dates way back to times like Bakerview Daycamp, where everyone would gather in a circle for lunch, and I’d be more than content to sit in a corner and eat my lunch, not realizing that this was considered odd behaviour, odd enough for my camp counsellor Mike to come over and see what was the matter. The answer to which was nothing, of course. That was just me, and still is. When the time for athletics came, I’d enthusiastically take part, often outshining most others, but doing so quietly and for the sheer joy of the sport. Throughout grade school, athletics were my social salvation – I hung with the jocks because I was a jock, but again never really became “one of the group” even when I was a star on the team.

Eventually, I lost interest in athletics too though, at least in the strictly competitive side of athletics. I didn’t see the point in the intense training and rigorous schedule required to remain competitive – what was it all in aid of? I didn’t know, so by Gr. 10, I tailed off in that regard, though I’m sure if I’d put in the work by doing weight training and spending spare time in the gym I could have been very successful in at least one of my major sports, be it soccer, basketball, of volleyball. I turned instead to my other major interest, the natural world, for answers and to pass the time. I still played sports, but not like I once did, not with the same passion, with the same sheer love of the game for the sake of the game. I turned also to conservation, in Gr. 11, beginning a period of intense community involvement in environmental groups, even starting my own little StreamKeepers student group, but today, none of that’s enough. Today I’m re-exploring the physical fitness side of things, not for the sake of competition, but for the sake of maximizing the potential of this wonderful body that I’ve been gifted with that is capable of so much and that thrives on exercise and use. The physical, however, isn’t enough anymore. Now I want to do everything all at once – travel, music, writing, singing, physical fitness, activism, dance, school, work, and it simply isn’t possible, but my level of personal development isn’t high enough to allow school and work take up all my time as they currently are.

What this is, in essence, is a lament for unused talent. Underneath, if I can only tap into it, lie incredible reserves of energy and drive and motivation, artistic ability, creative energies that I’m not using. Occasionally, I do, but usually only after some sort of a kick-start, a trip, or intense experience that re-awakens me, after which I generally drift back to every-day habits, being unable to hold onto that more present and aware state of mind which I covet more than anything else. I catch occasional flashes of brilliance that remind me what I’m really capable of, but these rarely last, and lack any kind of unifying force to keep them front and centre.

I’ve hoped for some time now that perhaps some of these issues, which are trivial in comparison to what many people I know face, can be at least partially resolved by a women who sees me and all my shortcomings but also sees how much I care and simply loves me for who I am, no questions asked. It’s what I would do, unconditionally, but as a friend of mine recently reminded me, it’s true that you can’t really love someone if you don’t love yourself. And all things considered, I’m not sure I can truthfully say I love who I am- more often than not, I’m disappointed in my capabilities, in my seeming lack of poise, tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, inability to really see something through to its completion, and at times paralyzing self-consciousness. Whether I admit it or not, the fact remains that often I’m very much influenced by what others will think of what I do or do not do. Can I transcend that or will I continue to allow myself to be held back by the potential for failure and what others will think? But just as much, I need to re-discover the capacity to dream and think big and be ambitious and excited about the future, because it’s been some time since that was the primary determinant of the direction of my life. I’m in charge here, and while I sure as hell could use a women in my life, or even simply a “best friend” as most of the ones I’ve had through grade school have more or less fallen away, that’s in no way an elixir for all that troubles me, and to expect it to be is irrational at best. I feel I have a lot to offer in the way of care and dedication and commitment and loyalty and earnest desire to experience life to the fullest, but not so much in the way of material wealth or discipline and motivation, and the first of those I’m not even sure I care about one iota.

The word “enough” comes to mind. I’d almost say I have enough now. A loving family, enough income to live on even were I on my own, a lap-top, a bike and a car, hiking gear, a tent, books, access to libraries, music, garden space – this is a lot more than many people have, and I’m not unhappy with my material wealth. Where I’m unsatisfied is social wealth – I’ve long recognized my need for greater intellectual stimulation, but everyone’s so fucking busy making ends meet it’s hard to ever get a group together and when you do it takes time to gel. I’ve been hearing rumblings about a cooperative of some sort for some time now, from HH and DM and GG and it’s high time somebody acted on this, took a bold first step, and made something happen. A big step, I know, but I see it as a necessity in the positive sense of the word in today’s world.

Economically, things will not be as easy for us as it was for our parents, and we had better be prepared. Independent living in big suburban houses sustained by corporate jobs is a thing of the past. I’ve a feeling that strong social networks, cooperation, and community support will be essential in tomorrow’s world.

It could be, like, the new fad, man.

Ran 10 kilometers today, and just about puked at the end but still improved on my Sun Run time by over 5 minutes, in part because in the Sun Run you’re running sideways half the time to get around people, but also in part because I’m in slightly better shape, or so I like to believe anyway. All in all, I feel much better about this race, and not only because of my improved time. This run, called Run for Water, is associated with a clear cause (no pun intended!), unlike the Sun Run. The money raised goes towards an international development project in Africa to provide funds to create a well to provide fresh water to those who don’t have it. Also, this run was local, didn’t have to hop, skip, and jump into the big city to participate, rather it was a 13 minute bike ride away.

In the post-race mingle and refreshment session I also had the chance to catch up with some acquaintances who I haven’t seen in some time – TH from my English course last fall who ran the the half-marathon.  DK and his wife, now also “DK” from high school and his dad.  OS, my old boss and fellow cyclist.  JW, my old basketball coach and writing instructor.  MR who surveyed for salmon in Stoney Creek with his kids.

Next up is the Police Run in September, though I’d really like to not be reliant on “events” to motivate me to run. Gets a little expensive, why not just go for a jog around the block?

The cat I’ve been catsitting, Morley, is gone now, back to his rightful companion now that she has a place to keep him. I’m rather miffed – that cat was really starting to grow on me. Whenever the tunes I’m playing got too loud I’d look over to see how he was handling it, as he was still rather insecure and easily frightened, and now I look over and he’s not there and it’s still a bit of surprise not to see his big soulful eyes watching me from across the room. Never have I met a more personable feline. Cats tend to be a rather aloof species, but not this guy. It didn’t take much coaxing before he’d be making a beeline for me, flop down on my arm, and purr contentedly. Then again, I am more of a cat person than a dog person.

Fortunately, I have visiting privileges, to both him and his companion, which is something. It’s a way, I suppose, of keeping a foot in the door to her – I never could make up my mind about her, we didn’t really click exceptionally well, but definitely had and have a platonic connection teetering on something deeper. However, it was stalled on…on what? Not quite ambivalence, I wasn’t ambivalent, more awkward, uncertain about the situation, so it’s probably for the best that she’s dating someone else. Hesitance and uncertainty never were a good way to enter a relationship and I really do not think I was ready for one. I need someone with the freedom to travel simply without a lot of money, just enough to get by and not too many obligations, just willing to strap on a pack with some basic supplies and hit the road and see where it leads and live a little on the rough side. But for that, I’m not ready – I’ve lots to learn yet, music, camping skills, a martial art, as well as some obligations to meet before I can follow that path. But everyday I come closer.

I’m addicted to Michael Franti and Spearhead lately – Hello Bonjour, Yell Fire, Hole in the Bucket, and others tracks. Here’s an artist whose lyrics have meaning, are decipherable over the instruments, and puts out beautifully rhythmic aggressive tunes that set your foot tapping and your body moving. When you’re moving, you come alive, when you’re grooving, it’s all organic, don’t panic…. How come nobody’s heard of him?