Sunshine of the Soul

'In separateness lies the world's great misery, in compassion lies the world's true strength.' Buddha

Today started off really shitty. It shouldn't have started that way, after all I was spending the whole day with my boys and those days are always fun days. But it did. I woke with a headache that I couldn't budge with any amount of drugs and a tongue that felt as if it had been dragged across a carpenters workshop. I rarely get headaches so when I get one it frustrates the heck out of me. So what do you do in that type of situation? You vent your anger on a dear friend of course! Spread the love right? Yeah, yeah. I know. Not exactly the best course of action. To be honest it made me feel shittier.

Thankfully the forecast rain decided to hold off and my drive down to Grimsby was bathed in sunshine. The sun brightened my mood and by the time my boys greeted me I was in a much happier place. The wet sloppy kisses only made the day brighter. We headed out en route to one of Our Spots.....Port Dover and the beach. Port Dover has become a bit of a sanctuary for the boys and me....a place where we can leave the stress and sadness of a separated world behind us and just laugh. Just have fun. Just revel in the feel of sand between our toes and that sublime mixture of treats one only finds at the seaside swimming in our stomachs.....and of course then there are the boats!

Zack has always had a fascination with boats. I cannot remember a Birthday or Christmas that has passed without some gift having a nautical theme. A boat tour up the river was therefore a given. We were joined on our trip by a young family and a gaggle of six seniors. The myriad of pleasure craft lining the banks prompted a myriad of questions from Admiral Zachary du Kamp. The captain answered every question that was thrown his way and all too soon the dock was calling us home. Zack was one of the first to disembark and.....

That's when the magic started.

Despite being chock full of excitement and amped up on sugar, Zack turned back and held out his hand to help the first senior from the boat. He wasn't asked, he just did. His compassion was reflected back at him in the old lady's smile. Six times he held out his hand and six times the world got a little brighter......and my heart felt it. I thought to myself 'Now that's the kind of global warming I can embrace'. ;)

We have always taught our boys to give of themselves when they can. Its an incredible feeling when you see your children live the values you have tried to teach them. I swear the sun was shining even brighter.
The beach called next and as the boys constructed what I was later to learn was a castle that could defy the erosion of the tide, I sat and read my book. It was an incredibly peaceful and almost idealistic setting.

Then the magic happened again.

I first heard the words of encouragement. 'Come on Old Girl. You can do it! Good job!' Raising my eyes from my book I caught a glimpse of a man and his dog. After taking a closer look I saw that the dog was in a harness and her back legs were being supported by her owner. The 17 year old Border Collie tentatively but doggedly (no pun intended) made her way across the sand, words of love and encouragement forever ringing in her ears. I have never been one for pets. I have never really understood the connection that people develop with their animals.....but in that moment I got it....got hit right between the eyes! I stood up and thanked the man for teaching me that compassion, true compassion, is limitless. He smiled and explained her story. He finished by telling me that my kind words had given him a boost of energy. His comments reminded me that compassion is always freely given but often still exacts a cost. It is that willingness to give of oneself without reward that is truly inspirational.

My day had truly turned around! I felt alive with energy and screw Red Bull, I had a set of wings all of my own! We loaded up the truck and headed back to Grimsby; lots of smiles, lots of laughter and unfortunately thanks to Logan, lots of smells. :) We had barely left Port Dover when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a car parked on the side of the road but facing in the opposite direction and in an area one would not normally pull over. It just seemed strange. I am not the most observant of people at the best of times and so I can't explain why with such a small glimpse I was able to discern that an elderly woman was behind the wheel.....but I did and I knew instantly what was required. I turned the truck around and approached the car to find an elderly Romanian couple pouring over Map Quest directions and hopelessly lost.

With the help of my GPS we were able to work out where they were trying to get to and in the end it was easier for us to just lead the way and let them follow us. The relief on their faces was evident and the thumbs up from the Gentlemen conveyed his thanks and relief. Their reactions on arriving at their destination, however, captured their true joy and true relief. With scant concern for the fact that we were completely blocking a main road, the woman practically jumped from her car and embraced me tightly.....before doing the same to Zack and Logan. :) The old man rushed to the trunk to retrieve a can of German beer he had brought with him all the way from Europe and proceeded to hug me as well, repeating softly in my ear 'you are a good man!'. It was a truly magical moment. We left the happy reunion, all feeling a few feet taller.

In the film Bruce Almighty the main character (played by Jim Carey) is forever being sent signs by God; signs that are meant to guide him into making the right decision. I truly believe that God was moving so very visibly in my life today. A day that started off so badly was transformed by two selfless acts of compassion. Two selfless acts designed to remind me of the joy I can bring to this world and not what I can take from it. Two selfless acts designed to remind me that compassion is limitless. Two selfless acts that in turn inspired me to also give freely of myself when the opportunity arose.  The fact that one of those selfless acts of compassion was reflected back at me in the face of my own son just reinforced the magic of God's love.

Jump!

As Autumn tumbles into cold,

As days renew but we grow old,

We fill our lives with stress and strife

And seldom contemplate this mortal life.

We fail to see the joy in living,

Fail to see the warmth of giving.

Too often fail to see sweet love divine,

Too often fail to taste the time.

In all the hubbub that clouds our mind

We need to find a way to cast behind,

The woes of today, the little things

That weigh so heavy and stop us sing.

For in our hearts such joy abounds

So much peace and love it can be found.

All we need is to find the key

And then concentrate on You and Me.

Let's spend some time in peaceful truth

Let's raise the rafters and be a goof!

Let's love so deeply, naked, strong

Transform our hearts to where they belong.

For the sands of time keep on flowing

Never stopping, never slowing

But in ourselves we have the power

To jump aside and smell the flower.

To taste the nectar that's all giving

To accept the gifts we are receiving.

To show the Lord with full esteem

We are thankful for all to us he streams.

Wet Flor

This is the sign that was posted on my kitchen wall one morning last year. I found out later that there had been a 'minor flood' while I had been sleeping and my eldest son had taken care of the mess (he had created). I'm not sure if he had posted the signs out of a genuine concern for my safety or if it was to give me a passive heads up of what to expect on entering the kitchen. In the end it didn't matter. The smile that consumed my face when I first saw the signs was stretched even further when I noticed the misspelled word (phonetic spelling is something Zack does when he's in a rush). I wore the smile for a week.

The sign still adorns the wall a year later. Lego models in various stages of construction, or destruction, still clog up my desk and the dirt smudge on the passenger side of the truck dashboard (from Spring 2011) still remains uncleaned. Zack's collection of war men (read disposable cream containers purloined from local restaurants) still hog the bottom shelf of the fridge and Logan's headboard still remains a disheveled mess of Happy Meal toys. It would drive some to drink....but in the world of the separated Father these are the signs of normalcy that prevent you from sinking into the quagmire of loneliness and self pity. These are the things that draw your attention as soon as you enter your dark apartment. These are the things that when touched with an idle hand transport you to a world of noise and smells and sibling rivalry that coddle rather than curse the heart. These are the things that allow you to look into an empty bedroom and see the two people you love most in this world snuggled up under the covers. These are the things that can make even the darkest day scream like a rainbow.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't say I am lonely; rather I'm just temporarily alone. It can be hard sometimes; I can't and won't deny it. I think it would be hard on any parent in this situation, but for one that was as involved as I was in my children's lives on a daily basis, separation for any amount of time is a trial that tests even the most steeliest of resolves. You deal though. You find ways to cope with the distance and you find ways to cope with the knowledge that you won't ever again have the opportunity to kiss your boys goodnight EVERY night. You cope by celebrating every reminder of their presence, every word on the wind that sounds like they had spoken it, and every touch that feels like their hand in yours.

Out of necessity rather than desire, I find myself an hours drive away from my boys for most of the week. I know, I know, an hours drive is not that far. Heck I have driven further in search of a blueberry fritter. However, on a cold winters night with your sons on the other end of a phone line, it can feel like a lifetime separates you. Life is all about balance. We balance pleasure with pain, success with failure and love with.....I guess the absence of love. This balance is played out every week as I make that two hour round trip. The joy and expectation of the drive to pick them up is always threatened by what I call 'The Crash' on the way back - that feeling of instant loneliness that descends as I pull on to the QEW. I have spent many hours replaying my life on that long drive home, many hours contemplating the future. Its a tough drive and yes, from time to time there are tears.

I try not to dwell on the sadness though and instead start to plan their next visit. Where will we go? What will we do? What will this fledgling chef concoct that two picky eaters will consume? As I said, its all about balance....and clearing away the Lego or taking down the 'Wet Flor' sign would unnecessarily put my life out of balance. So there it stays.....and when I eventually leave this apartment that sign will come with me, a constant reminder that wherever my boys are in this world they are always in my heart.

Procrastinatio.....

Poised to take the next big step,

Ready to take the plunge.

Organized, steady, 'standing' tall,

Crouched and ready to lunge.

Reading up on all to know,

Aware of all that's needed.

Settled on the path to go,

Tons of advice, all heeded.

Imagining all the future holds,

Not looking back but forward.

Always checking double time.

Tentative? A little awkward?

Introspective? Seeds of doubt?

Oh please don't make me blink!

No! Stay firm! Just stay the course!

........Nah! I'll have another drink.

The Vanilla Option

There has been a lot of chatter recently about the revamped $100 bill and its alleged involvement in ethnic cleansing. In this world that panders to faux outrage its apparently OK to liken the redesign of a bank note with genocide, but I digress. I actually like the little brown notes much more than the little red ones or the little green ones....but again I digress. ;)

For those of you who are not following this story with the fervour of a Green Peace activist at a GOP convention, I will give you the Cole's notes version of the story.

The Bank of Canada (BOC) has started printing money on this fancy shmanzy plastic material as opposed to the now 'old fashioned' paper. Its more durable, has more security features, blah blah blah blah. The fact that it looks like a cross between Monopoly money and the Azerbhaijani ruble seems lost on people. It could be worse though, it could resemble that bastion of currency high fashion the Euro. Anyways, rambling again. Back to the story. One of the draft designs featured what looked like an Asian looking lady peering down an old fashioned microscope. Pictured close by was a vial of insulin, the whole ensemble an apparent homage to Dr Banting the discoverer of insulin....a Canadian....just saying. Its pretty standard practice with any new design to send it before a bevvy of focus groups to get the OK. I mean, you do not want to go against the will of a Canadian focus group - they may, I stress may, exhibit mild displeasure if they don't like the design, you know, resulting in the odd raised eyebrow or possibly even a sharp intake of breath followed by a quick change in the topic of conversation. Nice weather eh?

The focus groups, made up of people with a diverse range of ethnicities,  objected to the use of an Asian looking (read Chinese) woman on the note. Some of the objections were because people didn't think the Chinese girl looked Canadian enough, some because they thought it stereotyped the Chinese (as hard working over achievers), some because, well, people like to object about everything and anything given the opportunity.  Reacting to this negative feedback, and trying to live up to their policy of neutral ethnicity, presumably a policy born out of the fear of generating negative reactions from some or other sector of the community, the Asian girl was cut and replaced with a more ethnically neutral looking girl (read white).

Despite this happening last year and despite the fact the draft note never made it into circulation, the dropping of the Asian girl has generated cries of racism. Reacting to the 'outcry', the BOC has publicly apologized for the way it executed the redesign process and has fallen on its sword. There are still a lot of ticked off people though, and frankly its hard to understand why.

There is a lot about this story that annoys me. First and foremost are the over the top reactions of the groups playing the race card. I mean, seriously? Ethnic cleansing? We live in an imperfect world where racism, real racism exists.  This is not an example of it. Misguided and bumbling? Yes. Racist? No. When groups cry racism over incidents such as this they cry wolf.....and in doing so they mute the response of society to incidents of real racism. In effect one could argue they actually do harm to the very people they purport to defend. I was also ticked off to hear that the BOC had caved and issued an apology. They really did nothing wrong. In apologizing they actually reinforce the faux outrage rather than quell it. Ridiculous.

There are other things that bug me about this fiasco.

If the bank has a policy of neutral ethnicity on its bank notes, why was a draft prepared that contained a visible minority?

Why does the bank have a policy of neutral ethnicity in the first place? If the policy is commemorate important Canadians or Canadian achievements what happens if the important Canadian is a visible minority?

Why is neutral ethnicity always defined as 'white'? Is there such a thing as neutral ethnicity?

Does anybody really give a crap what is depicted on our bank notes? I mean its usually dead guys that nobody gets taught about at school anymore anyway.

This whole drive to vanilla-ize society is rampant. If we continue to embrace and pander to the complaints of the Faux Outrage Generation (FOG) we will eventually lose one of the key elements that makes our world the wonderful place it is.....its diversity. So rather than taking the vanilla option, we should be celebrating that which makes us different and not burying it. We should be choosing the politics of inclusion through mutual acceptance rather than the politics of suppression. We should be choosing to adorn the world in a million colours rather than applying a shroud of white wash.

But what do I know? I'm just a white Christian boy.

Persist

Love knows no bounds,

No borders does it keep.

It does not know when to quit and run,

Or sink beneath the deep.

It faces toil with its head held high

E'en when the battle rages.

It bends not breaks and braces tall

The rock that spans the ages.

When all around just gathers gloom

And hope seems buried deeper,

Rejoice in love and keep it close,

Know it foretells a future sweeter.

A time when two will still be one,

A time when the battle's over.

A time when rest comes to those that gave

Their all to be together.

So fight! Fight hard! The dream deserves

All sleeping hands to muster.

Engage your hearts and focus your minds,

Forget the tired out bluster.

For God above has always taught

That faith breeds hope eternal!

And who are we to fight the will

Of God, our Father and Maker.

Breast Intentions?

I sucked you in with the title didn’t I? Im guessing your first thoughts were ‘What the heck is Jooge up to now? What inappropriate thing is he going to say?’ I don’t blame you. I would have had the same reaction. I guess that’s what happens when you have a reputation and post something with ‘breasts’ in the title. Giggle. Gaffaw. Fnarr. Fnarr. But fear not! Your Delinquent Scribe is gonna be serious…..or at least try to be.

Before I start, full disclosure: I am a 46 year old man who has never yearned to cross swords; I accept but don’t necessarily understand homosexuality in others; I support civil unions as opposed to gay marriage and I have probably told gay jokes in the past. OK, I know I have. Does that make me a bigot? That’s your call. Sometimes people use the term bigotry when they don’t like the fact that somebody else has a different opinion than them. I myself prefer to use the term when somebody is being outwardly hostile and mean to somebody just because they are different. As I said, it’s your call. Let not the fact that I hail from a country that openly bandies around the term ‘faggot’ to refer to a meaty snack best served with gravy affect your decision. I’m not helping myself am I?

Enough bluster! Time for the juicy part! I came across this newspaper article whilst wiling away a wistful lunchtime today. Delicately trying to avoid details of the coming beatification of Smiling Jack, Patron Saint of Asian Masseuses, I happened across a picture of a man with a young infant securely attached to his nipple. After almost choking on my Chicken Dopiaza (take out from last night when a curry frenzy attacked me) I decided to take a closer look at the story. Why? Morbid curiosity for the strange and abnormal I guess. And there was breast action going on. Told ya! Fnarr.

For those of you who want to read the whole article check out this link: http://metronews.ca/news/toronto/341567/breastfeeding-dads-bid-to-become-lactation-coach-rejected/

For the lazy ones amongst you here is a brief synopsis. Girl in BC decides she wants to live as a man. Takes drugs and has a breast reduction but can’t afford the ‘bottom changes’, as he / she so eloquently puts it. Is already with or takes up with ‘another’ guy as his partner. Comes off drugs and gets pregnant. Has kid and then attempts to breast feed the kid and apparently is so successful at inducing lactation from his little nubs that he wants to now coach women on how to do it. I am sure he would make the breast lactation coach in the world. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Do I sense a nipple, sorry ripple, of applause for that joke? Anyway…..

Well he gets turned down because he is not a woman and predictably the rejection prompted a near torrent of accusations and insults from any activist within a bras length of the story. I’m pathetic aren’t I?

So what was it that perked my interest? What was it that made me so angry? I mean it’s just a guy breast feeding a baby right? No harm done, right? Actually, wrong.

Womanhood inherently comes with the potential blessing of motherhood. Yeah sure Womanhood also comes with the very real reality of an aunt that won’t stop visiting, but some would argue that it’s a small price to pay for the joys of motherhood. Of course I am not going to deign to comment on the merits of each ‘gift’ because somewhere there is a woman who is reading this blog, who has a knife and has also run out of Midol. Yeah I like to live dangerously. Seriously though, there are things in this world that are exclusively in the domain of Woman. As a Dad I love my boys and I am as close to them as any dad could be. That being said a child’s connection to his mother, especially a mother who has borne the child and allowed him to suckle at their breast, is something no man can ever hope to replicate or truly understand. It’s a bond that lasts a lifetime. I know. I have my Mummy. Don’t get me wrong, there are many many ways that a Father and his child form bonds that also last a lifetime….but let’s be honest here, it’s just not the same.

This is why stories like this really piss me off. They piss me off because they are yet another example of how society is eating itself from the inside. Another example of how society, or rather certain factions of our society, are attempting to blur the lines between the genders, undermine what nature has so delicately developed and in essence encourage androgyny. Trevor(ette) best said it when asked about how he would describe himself. He said:

“First and foremost I identify as a parent,” Trevor said. “I suppose I use the term (fatherhood) because it’s what we have going in our society, not because I think it’s fantastic or I think it’s really accurate.” (Emphasis added)

In that one sentence he clearly establishes why his move to manhood may have been a little premature. Sure he took the drugs and has facial hair and a deep dark voice. But is that the only criteria for being a man? I mean, I have dated women with facial hair and deep dark voices. Stop It! I know. It was dark, I was drunk and she had shaved her legs. I was vulnerable. No. Being a man is not measured by your ability to grow facial hair nor is it measured by your ability to sing as a baritone. So what is the measure of a man? Honour? Respect? Fraternity? Bravery? The list is a long one. But guess what? One thing that isn’t on that list is the ability to breast feed. That’s a woman’s reward for the pain of child birth. That’s a woman’s reward for a lifetime of worry and pain as they care for their child from cradle to grave…..and so what right have you, Trevor(ette), to play fast and loose with the gender lines just so that it fits your needs and wants? It would be easy to lay all the blame at Trevor(ette)’s backdoor, but really we have only ourselves to blame. We have let activism convince us that gender roles that have served us well since time immemorial are actually not that good of an idea after all. Don’t confuse that statement as a wistful yearning for the pre-suffrage days. It isn’t. I am an ardent supporter of equal opportunities for everybody irrespective of gender, race, creed or colour. The bottom line is that men and women are different and each gender is blessed with positives and negatives. It is the very fact that life isn’t always a free ride that makes it so exciting and intoxicating. You don’t always get to have your cake (or breast for that matter) and eat it. Unfortunately certain factions of society have decided that they don’t have to play by those rules. They assert that they can do whatever they want, whenever they want and if we oppose them, we are just being a bunch of bigoted asses. It’s time to put an end to the nonsense because frankly the name Pat is not that appealing.