One Hour Breakfast

With me quitting my job and beginning to travel there’s a lot of uncertainty in my future. I don’t consider that a bad thing. In fact I think its a very good thing. The unknown is where we find some of the most interesting things and meet some of our greatest challenges. As an explorer its the place I’m most comfortable, even if sometimes its difficult or scary. I’ve got the wits to deal with it.

But its also gotten me to thinking. What do I know about my future? What is in my control?

I’ve already decided a few things, like that I’m going to make a conscious effort to journal on a regular basis, to do morning pages and artist dates. Whatever jobs I get and whatever money I make I’ll put 20% of it away in investments (probably alt-energy). But today I decided another thing that I’m going to take control of and hold fast to.

The One Hour Breakfast

I realised that one of the most delightful things about weekends and vacations is the simple pleasure of a delicious, healthy, unrushed breakfast. There is a really amazing pleasure that can be had from this simple act of self-care every morning, and yet so often we either rush through it or let it slide completely. I don’t think that’s sensible anymore. Afterall, how you start your day is a pretty good indicator for how the rest of your day is going to go. I used to wake up less than an hour before I had to go to work, in that time I got dressed, took a shower and hopefully cobbled together some sort of breakfast and scarfed it down just in time to rush out the door. On a bad day I’d miss the breakfast segment entirely and just grab a muffin or some doughnuts when I got to work.

Today I decided I wasn’t going to do that. I had no breakfast food in the house so I went to the store with a good breakfast in mind. When I got home I made myself a bowl of yogourt with raisin bran and maple syrup, grapefruit with sugar and St-Viateur bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon with a glass of hot Jell-O on the side. I sliced and spread slowly and mindfully, as did I eat, savouring every bite chatting with Keith and skimming articles in my RSS feed. Allowing a full hour for breakfast vastly changes the activity and it becomes a much more pleasurable and relaxed duty, because it IS a duty to body and mind to get prepared and energized for the day.

So from here on in I’m going to take an hour for breakfast. It may mean getting up earlier (and hence going to bed earlier) or starting the rest of my day a bit later. It will mean less time somewhere else, but it means more quality time and really, what more could I ask for?

Skates and Stilts

My duvet is permeated in playa dust. I never cleaned it. Eventually I’ll have to, but for the time being I enjoy sleeping in its dusty embrace. Perhaps the pH of my blood is permanently altered as a result. Maybe I should bathe in vinegar.

I am high on caffeine. I drank three earl grey teas tonight. Not thinking about the stimulating drugs contained therein. Oh well. I’m up. I’m up. That’s the way it is. I could tumble and curse in my sheets trying desperately to cloak my mind in unconsciousness without success, or I could do that. Write. Take advantage of the time I have bought with my waking mind by doing something productive. Wow. I was thinking about typing there and my efficacy just nosedived. Don’t think too much about what you do or you’ll no longer be able to do it. Feeling works much better.

That seems to be the lesson for the week. Saturday I went ice skating for the first time since I was a kid, in fact by my estimation its probably been two decades since I last had a pair of skates on my feet. I never learned how to skate. I was a perpetual bruised bottom, and for me, not being instantly good at anything also meant a bruised ego. Because I’m supposed to be good at everything.

Well, I can skate now. I couldn’t when I stepped onto the ice. But, two or three hours later I could get around with something resembling grace.

It was good to go through the phases of learning. Unconscious incompetent. Conscious incompetent. Consciously competent and unconsciously competent. Now I wouldn’t say that I excelled at skating. Turning and stopping were still pretty illusive, but the progress was remarkable. I also learned a lot about how you succeed at something that you initially do not know how to do. I got instruction from Fred and Ashley, but turning someone elses’ words into muscluar action isn’t an A to B proposition. I had to just try and try and try. The important part about that was not getting discouraged. It used to be after a few failures I’d start getting frustrated with myself which would lead to bullish attempts that were doomed to failure. Instead I just incrementally stumbled around laughing when I feel instead of cursing. Progress through failure.

As the pieces started to make sense it became necessary to change tactics. I’d skate properly for an instant – and then loose it. It then turned out that if I occupied my brain with something else, talking to a friend or spinning a staff my legs would pretty much operate themselves using what they’d just learned. Towards the end of the evening I seized upon yet another method. I would focus on a goal, like a tree, or a bench or a person and keep my thinking mind on that goal and my body did the rest. This by far produced the best results and I was able to cover distance at a decent clip without too much effort.

The whole episode was a marked contrast to the stilt walking fiasco of this summer where I managed to break not only my own stilts but Ashley’s as well. I felt like an abject failure, somehow flawed and useless. When I look back I realize I just wasn’t approaching the activity with the sense of humility and humour that I do now. Now I feel like I can do anything, but I don’t expect it to happen instantly or without effort.

This is only one of the reasons that I’m excited to be getting out of the corporate grind. I feel and I know that I’m more capable now than ever and I have the tools to do whatever I want, to deal with whatever comes my way. I feel no shame in taking time off or in doing menial jobs while I work out just what my work will be. I think its necessary to recover from the years of self-judgement as well as the years of corporatism. I don’t feel lazy. I feel like I’m taking care of myself, mind, body and soul. Its a sabbatical in the truest sense of the word. Time to exit from the chaos and really get in touch with myself and what’s important to me. What will emerge will be closer to my life’s work than anything else I’ve done up until now. I will not ignore the signals that I receive from my heart, my body and the world around me.

I’m happier and more at peace than I ever have been. I am filled with confidence and hope for the future. I believe that I will make a difference. Nay, I’m certain of it.

Year Change

Time to change two digits (assuming a base-10 system) on your year, if you’re using the Gregorian calendar that is. Yeah its pretty arbitrary, but still sort of noteworthy.

My best New Year’s Eve hands down was the one I spent in Syndey with the Cave Clan. We were up the CSR distillery/silos illegal partying. Mr. India, Hatchet, Siolo, Trioxide, the whole damn gang. My girlfriend at the time was there. It was good times. We had a great view of the city, we had booze, we were far and away from any prying eyes. It was free. At some point we started shooting bangers off of the roof. Good fun. Then security guards showed up at the gates below, flashlights in hand – I think they yelled up at us. Of course we’d planned for that possibility.

We all ran down the stairs or slid down the ladders or leapt from level to level. Then with the aid of a preinstalled rope line scrambled down a steep embankment and vanished through a narrow, all but invisible slit in the corrugated metal fence around the property and into the secure courtyard of a fancy schmansy condo building. The security guards at CSR were left wondering where we all dissapeared to and the security guard at the condos was let wondering where all these unwashed youths came from.

We drove off to some bunkers on the south shore just as a group of teens were being evicted by security guards. Talking to them they hinted that they’d be going off duty in about ten minutes and didn’t give a damn what happened after that. We drank in the parking lot for fifteen minutes, then set off.

We set off more bangers, some inside the bunkers, some out over the harbour. A boat in the harbour responded by launching a few fireworks of their own.

I don’t remember how I got home or how the night ended. Maybe I never did. What I do know is that I had an incredibly good time that night. No overpriced bar tabs or cover charges, no lame ass house parties, just drinking, good friends, adrenaline fuelled sprints and explosions. Who could ask for more on New Year’s Eve? Not I.

The past few years New Years has been even more anti-climatic than usual. Slept through it two years ago. Went to a ho-hum party last year where I realized that me and my girlfriend at the time just wouldn’t work out. This year slept through it again since the party options before me were neither terribly condusive to the mood I’m in right now. I want to spend New Year’s with friends, carving an intention for the future, but almost all of my friends are out of town. Instead I’m going to get up nice and early, when everyone else is rock cold asleep, and I’m going to watch the sun rise.

Yeah I feel dumb in a way. I probably could have gone out and ended up having fun by letting go of all the hangups. Who can know? I certainly can’t. So I’ll just do as I do. Go as I go. Wishing that some of you, all of you, were here.

Report Card

A while back I read an article by Harmon Leon in which he tracks down and interviews several of his ex-girlfriends about… himself. I thought it was kind of cruel and kind of brilliant simultaneously and it gave rise to a similarly brilliant/cruel idea of my own. Okay a totally derivative idea, but taking it to the next level. What if I put together a survey/report card on my sexual performance and submitted it to all the girls I’ve slept with for completion?

I think the fact that I’m now seriously considering it is a testament to my maturity – clearly I no longer foster any foolish dreams of getting back together with any of them, nor to I particularly care if it changes their opinion of me. On the other hand maybe its incredibly immature and shows that I really do care what they think. In either case it’d be an interesting exercise and potential learning experience.

I think I’ll set it up using a service like SurveyMonkey as an anonymous survey so they feel more secure in being honest and so that I don’t traumatize myself with specifics.

Any suggestions for questions/ratings systems?

Another Piece of the Puzzle

Last night I serentypically found myself at Draw and Amira’s for a potluck. As entertainment Amira produced a jigsaw puzzle, a photomosaic of a Van Gogh self-portrait. For those unfamiliar (and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find a good photo anywhere on the net) a photomosaic is one of those images that consists of thousands of smaller images that when combined and viewed from a distance come together to create one large complete image. So, each puzzle piece had one, or fragments of several tiny photographs, making completing the 1000 piece puzzle that much more challenging.

Great, thrilling I hear you say. You’re on the edge of your seats. Or not. But let me tell you what working on this puzzle taught me about being human and happy.

Several of us sat down around the table to work on this puzzle together, and everyone had a slightly different technique. Stella began by collecting all the red pieces and assembling them, others started working on assembling the edges and corners. Both proved to be pretty effective techniques, though both also eventually plateaued in terms of effectiveness. As for myself I started collecting all the pieces with pictures of airplanes and helicopters on them which proved to be pretty inefficient.

Now I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that most people would assume that the lesson I learned had to do with the most efficient way of tackling this problem of completing the puzzle, but its not. No the lesson I learned had very little to do with finishing the puzzle project. What I observed was that solving the puzzle wasn’t really the most important thing. What was important was deriving pleasure from the exercise. No I didn’t find a lot of interlocking pieces that went together, but I did enjoy collecting together and looking at all of the aircraft photographs. That’s it. Simple really. I enjoyed what I was doing, regardless of whether or not it was the most efficient route to the ultimate “goal” of the game. I was just having fun.

For someone who has historically gotten very uptight about goals and efficiency and “doing things right” this is a pretty profound thing, and what’s more I didn’t even think about it until now, a day later upon reflection. Wow. I was playing. Really playing. Without consideration for right or wrong, winning or losing. That’s pretty cool.

When it’s handed to you on a platter

…you’re really obligated to take it and run. So it goes with this next idea. Well, just look at the photo I saw;

Its an album cover – of course! It also perfectly fits as an opposite and opposing force to the Cloudburst Artcar. Yes an umbrella that makes it rain on you. What an awesome costume! Probably also easier to make – though a huge pain in the ass to carry around – water ain’t light.

So nicely surreal.

Click

A piece of the puzzle may have just clinked into place. Yesterday I found out about an idyllic fruit farm in B.C. that’s run by an older couple that bring in seasonal help for the fruit harvest. I could harvest cherries for two to four weeks. A working vacation! In a lush valley of trees, mountains and lakes. There could be worse things.

Maybe I could even get into some trouble with the B.C. burners and make that beat poetry film I wanted to make with Shayne Avec I Grec. Not a bad month. That sounds like a contract to me, a contract of my own making. I don’t even know what month this is I’m looking at… looks like usually late July, early August – thanks Google.

Mind you that’s prime wedding video season, but who wants to shoot wedding videos all summer? Not I. Maybe a few.

But the virtual house tours seem like the way to go. I just want to wander around mansions in Westmount and get paid for it – I’ll admit it.

Oh, put up a screen in the living room. We’re ready for winter now.

Except maybe that beach party…

Gotta get on with Cirque du Boudoir for that one. Also feelin’ a real yearning for some circusy fun.

Back to the wonderful life. Bye bye Internetland.

Artist’s Log – Artdate: Today

Just started painting the table base I found on Notre Dame earlier this summer, after brushing and scraping the heck out of it. JoJo pointed out the hearts in the pattern and suggested red, and that’d be awesome, but. I have orange paint that I found on the street, and orange is cool, like red but less serious, more chill. Saftey man, safety.

So I painted it. I think its housepaint. No biggie. Sometimes I painted in big swaths, sometimes little strokes. Sometimes I globbed the pain on, other times I was more judicious. The paint was free. Fuck it. Time to play. Experiment. Just have fun. The end result really isn’t important because I didn’t spend a cent on it. I told myself as I worked – “Maybe I’ll have to strip it – cool. I’ve never stripped metal before, bring it on! I want to learn every different thing about this process. This doesn’t have to be a masterpiece, but it might teach me to make one.”

Wow. Nice one baby.

Its exactly the perspective I need to have to achieve the things I want to achieve. And it happened when it started to rain and I thought – fuck it, I’m having fun. I’m staying outside and painting. Which works up to a point, and then you need to stop.

Be Comfotable, Give Back

Every year when I leave Burning Man I have a list in my head of things to do the next year to make my experience better. And every year I forgot 90% of those things by the time Burning Man swung around again. So, this year I’m going to put some of this stuff down on… well not paper. Paper is oldskool. Anyways…

These are things I wrote, miserable and grumpy, hot and tired in my tent Sunday before they opened the gates. One of my tent poles was snapped and the mesh in my tent only helped to granulate the dust into a near mist.

• Be Comfortable: That means taking care of myself. Have good food, good footwear, chapstick, vinegar, moisturizer, a nice chair, a nice tent, etc. Nobody will take care of you but you, so do a good job of it.
• Be Over-Prepared: Bring more than you think you’ll need. Then there’s no stress. Have backups, bring things that you *might* need. Remember that things will get lost, gifted away, broken, etc.
• Make it Easy: Its hot, chances are good I’m not sleeping enough, if things aren’t easy they won’t get done. Workflows and spaces should be streamlined and simplified so that tasks require next to no effort.
• Don’t be Cheap: This goes with being over-prepared. That tent or those shoes are no use if they break halfway through the week. Likewise, this is a vacation, buy the expensive wine, at least one.
• Trust Your Gut – Even if it Means Conflict: If my brain says that this guy shouldn’t climb this tower, then I should say so. If my brain thinks that tarp is totally going to blow away and take our car shelter with it, I should say so.

Those are the big line items, and so many little things fit into them. For instance putting a big 2ft x 3ft poster of the playa map up in the kitchen with a whiteboard underneath to write down names and addresses would help everyone keep shit clear in their heads. Just simple design decisions like where to place things can make a HUGE difference.

Okay, I was going to write more but I have to pack for Boston. One more road trip adventure before this burn is truly over. Here we go again.

I’m awake and I have a Robin Hood hat on. What more do you want? I have somehow managed to complete, well one of my 5-list tasks without even leaving the house today so whoopie for that.

There is a vague scent of natural gas in the kitchen ever since I cooked up some bacon. I’m not sure whether or not this should be a cause for concern. I could leave a note for my roommates not to light any matches or lighters, but that seems like jumping the gun.

So I’m heading out for my daily… what did I call it? Paces. What the fuck does that mean? Well it sounds more meditative and sophisticated than walk, and as came up in conversation today words are like magic so choose yours wisely. I just try to use them in unusual contexts and coax out those that don’t get used enough. Shed some pixie dust when you take them out of the ‘ol box right? Exactly. Its the only damn thing I’m good at, but when you realise how much you can do with ‘em, well, words are pretty damned cool. Which is just a lazy way of saying fantabularistic. You all got that right? See. Magic.

Well the breeze is calling through my open window, along with the honeybee drone of a hedge trimmer somewhere.

Off to Boston tonight so not much time, a quick walk, some inhaling of paint fumes, hasty packing of whatever will fit my frame and we’re off. Hours of driving, like a video game but with a declining gas gauge instead of a mounting scorecard. Alas. Off to paces.