Saturday, June 30, 2007
June 30 responses
Sorry I have not written back sooner, really busy. Anyhow awesome picture, you look great in blue, should wear the color more often, I would comment on today’s musing, however I really didn't read it, but I am proud to be Canadian and a Calgarian born and raised love this beautiful city we all call home, have a great long weekend they say the weather is gorgeous for the remainder of it. See you later, TS Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
chest thumping - Saturday, June 30, 2007
13C/55F (high 21C), sunny; last day of the first half of the year will be swept away by this steady breeze that took away last night’s fierce thunderstorms and will no doubt bring more of them this afternoon; everything damp, fresh and feeling very alive; Gusta just knows it is another day to drag her coat through tall wet grass
being Canadian, for all of us who are not First Nations descendants, is that of being a newcomer or descendent of a newcomer in this large strange harsh beautiful land; on this cusp, this hinge day, that connects to Canada Day tomorrow – that day when citizenship ought to be front and centre, when flag waving and chest thumping ought to be on everyone’s mind, it is surely not
our southern cousins do that much better (not sure if I mean ‘better’ as much as ‘louder’) than we, not because we don’t love our country, not because we do not have – current and past – Canadians laying down lives and spilling blood for their country – we do, but because we are more inward with our patriotism; we are far more likely to shout out ‘I am Canadian’ in a sing-a-long chorus of a beer commercial than we are to sing our anthem loud enough that our neighbour in the next seat might know we sing off key; Americans celebrate predecessors fighting oppression and unfair taxation to win freedom and independence from Britain; our predecessors were Britain defeating France, then compromising with each other after the fact leaving Canadians with a complex identity . . of English and French, but today the ‘English’ an ‘French’ descendants taken together count less than 50% of Canadians . . . a complex identity, but I like it
the Swiss do this too, I’ve heard; a melting pot that has not melded . . multiple cultures and languages under a single flag in one country; we are larger, more complex and far from neutral though some would argue our identity has been neutered by NAFTA and US network television destroying our cultural identity; yes, our culture is affected and to some degree diluted, but not eradicated; on the world stage our country is young and relatively un-noticed for things that do not connect with our size, natural beauty and enormous natural resources; the world, when it pauses a moment might remember the extraordinary contributions to society in Canada and well beyond our borders of Banting and Best and Douglas and Pearson to name a few; our identity is alive, distinct and symbolized by far more than the CPR, the Confederation Bridge, salmon and polar bears - so many spectacular wonders and great Canadians make for a proud legacy, a great place, a proud people who pretty much tend to keep it to themselves
a recent CBC survey to identify the seven wonders of Canada helped celebrate our unique elements; most are natural occurrences like the Rockies, the prairie sky and Niagara’s falls; Pier 21 in Halifax and the old city in Quebec are iconic symbols of new Canadians arriving, the Canoe and Igloo emblematic of timeless art and innovation – each of them as unique to this country as red surge uniforms and beavers; other wonders of Canada are unique things to see and touch like landscapes, critters and history and maple syrup and the loon and the Canada goose - these things are all found in Canada, about Canada and symptomatic of Canada, but what is ‘being Canadian’?
often we need our newest immigrants to reflect it best for us; freedom like nowhere else, space like nowhere else, sky and water like nowhere else, opportunity like nowhere else; Canadians do battle less than most countries, spend a lot of energy playing referee on the world stage, are generous in terms of helping developing countries and rushing to aid when disasters strike; we don’t always agree, we don’t get it right all the time, but it seems we keep getting it better
in Canada the term ‘chest thumping’ best describes what people do with someone who can’t breathe until the paramedics arrive; tomorrow our country’s citizens celebrates its 140th birthday; this land and its inhabitants have been here for thousands of years, settlers from far and wide for a few hundred now; we are young, we are true, we are north, we are strong, we are free, we ARE Canadian
Mark Kolke
223,848
200.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Friday, June 29, 2007
June 29 responses
Health and happiness to you. Regards, BU, Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
oh-oh Canada - Friday, June 29, 2007
15C/60F (high 21C), early fog lifted, warm sun at my back – the ridge path in the park our exclusive terrain today, Gusta sniffed where critters had been - none in sight, the neighbourhood quiet as school buses are off somewhere on vacation now, early departures for weekend and holiday travel have calmed the place
happy birthday GR, friend, kind man, wine-guy extraordinaire; if you are strolling around Lake Breeze Winery in Naramata this weekend, just holler out ‘happy birthday Gary’
we have such a thing about time, we white folks; we’ve been here such a short while, no wonder time is such an unimportant concept to those who have been here for many thousands of years; this Canada Day we should all reflect a bit, on what this country is, why this country is, how we got here, why we are Canadian and whether we or those who govern us really appreciate what citizenship, stewardship and caring for this large tract of land really means – or ought to
everywhere I go, I meet people who exceed their expectations flourishing alongside people in abject despair because they never achieved their dreams or anything remotely close; it seems incongruous sometime to see people who are well schooled, well bread, well meaning people with the verve and sparkle of a bowl of cold porridge, very cold porridge; what gives such vibrancy to one person, such a drab outlook for their equally qualified counterpart?
I’ve been exposed to two concepts under various labels . . that keep colliding in my mind and, to an increasing degree, in my actions; they might be relevant to this subject
first is ‘manifest destiny’, a concept historically described in many ways to define territorial expansionist tendencies of countries, in a sense to justify their pushing themselves forward while pushing others aside; in recent years this term (and others conveying similar meaning) are brain candy fed to masses by so many who write or coach or preach or politic – being the idea of unlocking our creative juices, hidden aspirations and the spirit(s) by which we are ruled to fulfill our destiny – often rationalized as inevitable in terms of how it is justified . . we all know people like this, we all know countries like this – including our own
the second is the notion (thank you Mike Lipsey) is that our ability to succeed (in sales anyway) is in direct proportion to our willingness to make a fool of ourselves; I’ve always thought Mike chose the wrong word ‘fool’; I think of it more as to be bold, to be a little daring and certainly to be creative while ignoring those who might be too conservative for anything so FOOLhardy as this idea that burns strongly to advance my cause, anyone’s cause for that matter, toward a loftly bold goal
we approach days on the calendar where Canada and US citizens celebrate their countries, celebrate independence, nationhood and bright futures with great bravado and chest pounding – we all share in this manifest destiny – the most glaring of all wrongs remains to be righted; this weekend descendants of the first Canadians, First Nations we call them now, Indians (so named because Columbus was hopelessly lost and thought he was in India) – these proud people who have had to claw, beg, fight and protest to finally win some of their due; the United Nations, the courts and most fair minded people must surely realize that being born to one family or another should not be an accident of birth that relegates one’s life to a certain destiny, but rather one that brings equal rights and opportunities to everyone, their life only limited by their own personal willingness to _ _ _ _ _ _ (insert your dream, your destiny, your goal)
imagine you were being born today, but born to a different family than the one you come from; imagine being born of parents who live, fenced in so to speak, on a reserve of land – born to a life rooted in treaty rights of long ago, a life rooted in cycles of painful abuse of every right or privilege of citizenship we hold dear
I was not born, nor were you, as a particularly enlightened person – we have become aware, educated, experienced or wise because we were schooled by others and because we wanted to learn about life on our own account, a perfectly normal ‘manifest destiny’ kind of experience
we so easily embrace new-age thinking; it is really quite remarkable that after several hundred years as invaders of this continent we, Canadians and Americans alike, continue to treat these people as inferior with stone-age tactics for dealing with adversaries; strength, wealth and power will never ultimately overcome the limitless ability of people to stay the course
maybe blocking a road or a train is wrong, destructive or illegal – but how could it be wrong on any kind of scale that measures the wrong they are trying to right?
if you’ve never touched an Indian, hugged an Indian, known an Indian – then why not start with a single next step, try reaching out a hand of friendship . . you will likely get a warm handshake in return, but if you don’t you should not be surprised because it took you this many years to take that first step, don’t expect everything to immediately change
and, if you don't take a step, why would you expect anything at all to change in any way your find pleasant, acceptable or desirable?
Mark Kolke
223,872
199.8
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
June 28 responses
Thanks for sending me your musings. I find them life filled, PL, Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
clarity emerges - June 28 musing
13C/56F (high 26C), overcast; I was dragging along as Gusta led us around the lagoon and back at high speed, supercharged this morning – need for speed not found in my legs
no need for speed, I am moving a little slow, which tends to happen when a sniffle wants to grab me, or when I’ve had way too much great food to eat the night before (our Toastmasters club had a pot-luck BBQ meeting last night), or when I have some deadlines to meet, or too many meetings to attend or a few too many things stuck in my brain – today is ‘all of these’; clarity emerges in many ways on days like this – the mood is set
an element of my life has grown strong and important to me over the last couple of years - the more I think on it, clarity emerges that these group dynamics are far more important to me than the work we do together; the buzz in the room is so much more than social or fraternal . . it is intellectual, creative, caring, stimulating and electric; there are better things in life (not many) than feeling connected with a great group of friends and their collectiveness (brains, personalities, perspectives, energy, joys, pains, triumphs, pratfalls); these extraordinarily bright, perceptive thoughtful people are kind of interesting, kind and interesting
mid-year already; I am sure everyone has their familiar times to reflect - year end, budget time, annual reviews etc; when running a small business (that means, it runs you) the review process is far less formal, far more frequent, far harsher in some ways, less objective in many more - when I hear the best idea ever or the worst, they often sound the same at first – leaves me wondering how to determine ‘right path’ vs. ‘wrong path’
around July long-weekends I find I do similar things to my Christmas break; take some time to review, to plan, to re-organize a few things to consider ‘how things are going’, which always makes me wonder ‘by what yard-stick am I measuring’; ideas often sit idle too long, not because they should; sometimes it is because they need more germination time, just as often a ringing phone interrupt any chance at a breakthrough - like most Thursdays, today begins with yesterday’s incomplete tasks pushing today’s scheduled ones, the weekend looms, urgency competes with ‘time to think things through time’ . . there will be time to take them then
the July long weekend will also mean lots of great Wimbledon tennis to watch in the wee hours, Millarville races if I can find someone who wants to go with me, some golf, some work, some driving in the country (this one), some July1/July4 reflection on being a citizen of North America . . writing of course; whether reflecting on life, business or country, what constitutes progress, success, effectiveness?
I found it interesting last night, in that group of 20+ people, most of us know each other deeper than folks we pass on a street, some much deeper – evidenced by significant revelations and changes, often humorous, often painful, often deeply dramatic; I’m starting more and more to think we function like an extended family of sorts, more about the glue which connects us than common interests that brought us together in the first instance . . I know I’ll know many of them for a long time, some of them even longer
Mark Kolke
223,896
200.2
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
an acquired taste - Wednesday, June 27, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
10C/50F (high 24C), my mind distracted, unfocused – TWO-many of those works-in-progress on my table today – the peaceful calm of the park as early sun flickered through trees along the ridge path in the park, Gusta super-charged and distracted by eau de lapin
I found these un-attributed quotes that might help explain me – I like them both a lot: ‘Every time I find the meaning of life, they change it.’ . . and . . ‘If you don’t create change, change will create you.’
I’ve been wondering why I have been getting different results lately in things I am trying, people I am meeting; historically (means a long long time) some people find me a turn-off, some find me off the chart on their outrageous-meter, some find me a flavour they don’t care for, some find me an acquired taste – like olives, or oysters or pickled herring/peanut butter sandwiches (bonus points if you can guess the ‘only 1’ of those I like); maybe, every time I think I have something or someone figured out, they change or I do or we both do - have I changed my attitude a little, a lot or not at all?
it seems to be raining, not rain, but opportunities – more than usual; how many?? new things, new ideas, new people, new tasks, new perspectives, new points of view can we handle at one time; I’d rather (the logical side of me talking) initiate two things a day I can spend good energy on than 10 I can’t give enough of my time and energy to move along, to advance a relationship, flesh out the plan, name a goal, define a theme, strategize for things to materialize, visualize the large size, climb the rock pile without bringing it down on myself; fitting in, of course, balanced time for friends, family, dog, me, fresh chances, new choices, imagination and frolic . . .
my inclination is not to think in two’s when six ideas come along, or when ten’s are available in my head; I rarely have more than two of ten left by the end of the day, but seldom are they the first two or last two or ones I thought were the best two in the morning
I can have a great morning every morning; all I need do is two interesting things . . with two interesting people, the day will then be a river overflowing its banks, a virtual flood of opportunity; it doesn’t start that way but two always becomes ten, I would not know how to do ‘two’ on a regular basis; the logical side of me is ruled by all the others sides of me – not sure if that means I am multi-faceted or some version of confusing, diverse, indecisive or strange - or an acquired taste
anyone seen my peanut butter?
Mark Kolke
223,920
198.8
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
June 26 responses
I occasionally meet or encounter people who impact my life in some small way but am not aware of their influence until much time has passed. Our phone call last week was one of those discussions with a virtual stranger that made me realize something about myself and where I am at in this point in my life. My email the next day left me feeling somewhat "naked" but I felt comfortable enough to let you know how your words had helped. I did not know until that day that what I "need" was not what I was "seeking". Thank you again for that twist of fortune. Your musings are much enjoyed. I'll share with you my "musings" for today. Sometime today begins my 52nd year of life.(Not sure of my time of birth-must be recorded somewhere.) Fell asleep late last night with a slight bit of melancholy remembering some birthdays "past" and feeling uncertainty of birthdays "future." I awoke this morning at 4:00 am to a deafening rain, flashes of lightning lighting up my bedroom. The "noise" of the rain distracted me from planning my day in my mind as I usually do upon awakening. Then I quickly realized why the rain had startled me awake. My full attention was needed to appreciate what came next. Total silence. The rain abruptly ceased and after a few moments I heard the birds. The birds that sing at dawn each and every day to remind us of what we have......the gift of each new day. I smiled and got out of bed. Have a great day Mark, LAR, Winnipeg
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
longer still - Tuesday, June 26, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
11C/52F (high 68F), sunny, soft breeze ripples hay-esque grass around the lagoon where everything grows daily, if only by inches; crews work the encroaching next subdivision cell, Gusta oblivious to noisy yellow machines as if they are big animals in the next field, ducks gathered ‘round for morning swim classes, Gusta breaks into a light jog around the lagoon as if surveying her country estate while my efforts to keep up break a sweat
sometimes I/we dismiss someone’s troubles or my own as small stuff, the stuff not to sweat, because we’ve been there, done it and observe an over-reaction to the obvious, stressing over inevitably inevitable inevitabilities; of course it matters in the moment, but in the fullness of time, much of it won’t matter much
toss out platitudes, put people on ignore because 'we've heard it all before'; maybe you have
done that, I know I have; so easy to be smug - sometimes I quote my friend Annie from New Jersey who taught me to say 'build a bridge and get over it'
I was talking to one of the SB’s; she said she keeps a piece I’d e-mailed last October, folded up and ratty now, in her purse – she pulls it out to read on days when the struggle is hard and yesterday was one of those days; as the conversation ended I asked that she send my words back to me, that I wanted publish them, SB replied ‘they’re your words; sure, you can do whatever you want with them’; here they are:
Monday, October 23, 2006 3:24 PM
To: SB . . Subject: emotions
surely you know, that whatever happens there will be lots of emotion attached to everything you do
you will have moments (perhaps days or weeks) of sadness, anger, joy, freedom, pain, more joy, more sadness, more joy etc. etc. . . for whatever length of time you need to deal with all that good stuff; if you stifle it that will work for a while but in the long run it all needs to leak out all over you & anyone close to you . .
having been through this a couple of times and having met lots of others who have, you can rest assured that:
- it's not fatal
- every 3 months you will feel 'great & ready for anything' only to look back another 3 months later to again say 'I'm great & ready for anything' & 'what was I thinking 3 months ago?'
- if you had a cut, it would take time to heal
- if you had a broken bone it would take longer
- if you had a broken spirit . . longer still
The feeling of being lost is the first step of being found; you've started taking those steps so don't sweat that you don't know who you are, what you want & where you are headed just now . . that's pretty normal
Sorry to tell you that you are normal when you are going through so much that feels exceptional . . but . . you are normal
I like you just fine!
tossing encouragement someone’s way is a boomerang that may come back when you least expect it; to SB: you are still normal and I still like you just fine
Mark Kolke
223,944
200.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
Monday, June 25, 2007
June 25 responses
Hi – sitting is a choice too, as is doing nothing…. Not nearly as much fun though, DB, Red Deer
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
risk living - Monday, June 25, 2007
11C/51F (high 12C), chilly overnight .. brrr (83F in Maui today), sunny, light breeze, my typical early/late start to somewhat sleep deprived Monday is in high gear; I’m pumped, the first pot of coffee drained, time to start another . . Gusta can no longer see over the grass around the lagoon so the grass just ripples as the hidden pooch makes her way along except when she leaps out to startle passersby
no one gets through life alive, so what is there to fear from living vigourously?
everything I’ve written today I’ve written bits and pieces of before I suppose; I’ve learned lately – profoundly – that some things I was so very certain of turned out to be false, not a little bit false, but a lot false; I’d never have learned that if I’d not taken some deliberate steps to find out, to test, poke, prod, turn upside down . . easier with pillows and salads than it is with people . . easier than with relationships . . but worth every toss and turn
I’ve probably been more free in my thinking (maybe a little irreverent too) than I can ever remember; I’m feeling better physically and mentally, accomplishing as much or more than ever and I think I’m being more effective for myself and for others . .
old tapes play in our heads; learned from parents or past loves or past lives, from a text book or from some 'big book' representing a belief system, from responses the last time we tried this or that, personal and societal rules rooted in fear of offending someone, some rule or fear of having a hurtful experience repeated - what prison
thoughts, ones we never give voice to or write down, imprisoned thoughts, wisps, hopes, ideas, dreams; if we think it, the best it can do is roll around in our head captured, imprisoned – but, released from prison, we expose them to atmosphere so sound waves reach eardrums, print reaches optic nerves - anything and everything can change, often sooner than we think
'we', meaning all of us/society, constantly struggling to fix what's broken because everything seems to be, to tell truths except to those who are not supposed to know for fear of reactions, to buy this 'new improved' thing because of big trouble with the old version (ie: Y2K) is imminent, or fear of zealots wreaking havoc; fear-based thinking permeates society, it seems to be at the root of commerce, politics, religion, relationships and families
‘we’ rush out to buy vitamin D because someone announced it prevents cancer, we rush to the pump if gas might go up overnight; we embrace/reject pros and cons of global warming, global poverty, global disease – flipping, flopping to stay ahead of the crowd – not to be leaders – more like lemmings; we don’t do this so much as individuals as we do it as a government or society, but we are all part of it in some way, afraid we might be wrong, lacking conviction to believe we are right
‘we’ don’t have to do any of that; plan a meeting, plan a golf game, plan a picnic, plan a trip, plan anything; say something, say anything, say everything, say what you wish, say what you want; do, do it, do the thing, do the thing that scares you a little – not because it might be right or might be wrong, but do it because it is the first step in doing things rooted in the real you as opposed to some collective ‘we’ don’t do that, ‘we’ don’t experiment or risk like that
let yourself out of prison; it’s a little scary on the outside if your only view is from the inside, but when we risk, REALLY RISK, living the freedom pays dividends daily
fear life, of fear the fear of life or fear death, or fear death without having lived
your choice . . pick one, pick some - then ask what that choice means?
worse, sit still not making any choices at all
the great thing about free thinking is that it is free, but when you do it you get a real charge from it
Mark Kolke
223,968
201.0
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
June 24 responses
I have looked briefly at your website, your biography and some musing. While reading your musing I instantly reflected to my past life, life in Europe. I was reading lots of good prose and poetry, reciting competitively and writing poetry as well. Life in Canada shifted my interests and I have discovered passion for outdoors and outdoor sports, music and painting with no time left for reading anymore. Based on your biography, we do share an interest in music. I like Carlos Nakai as well as other composers and performers inspired by native music (Robbie Robertson). Also, not long ago, I have seen Vivaldi'sFour Seasons performed in Calgary by a wonderful chamber orchestra from Germany. I attend many live concerts and this one was a real treat, ES, Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
what we chase after - Sunday, June 24, 2007
7C/45F(high19C), this morning’s clear sky will yield to afternoon thundershowers, ‘summer on the prairies’ is here; Gusta disappointed - that rabbit was so close, right in front of her separated only by a chain link fence – then gone like a shot; wondering what an interesting hare-racing spectator event that would be, I resisted temptation to unleash her just so she could have done it; I’m sure the rabbit could have used the sprint practice – no harm would have come to any of us and Gusta would have felt like the inventor of the dog chases rabbit experience, something unique to her in all dogdom
that which we chase after - in our actions, words and thoughts, often sits right in front of us (no chain link fence to stop us) – an experience there for the taking, no work or words required . . we can have them if we want them; we too often think these choice moments, these moments of choice, are in some way or the other are problems unique to us, only us – they are not unique, but they are ours
I am not your teacher unless you allow me to teach you, not your tour guide unless you let me lead you, not your mentor unless you want that, not your student unless you open yourself up to teaching me, not your buddy or your nemesis; I am the holder of a mirror – things you see in my words are things you know and experience, things you don’t see are ones you’ve not experienced yet . . or possibly ones you’ve set aside . . some might be worth chasing after
here is a ‘what if?’ for you: you have the opportunity to be the final experience of someone’s life before they expire, if it were the last time you talked to them – ever – would you have talked to them about the things you talked about, said the things you said, left the things unsaid that you left unsaid?
of course not . . but who knew?
life is at one moment all so very new, so very old, so very warm, so very cold; we are solitary beings in a populated place; we are in so very few ways unique or distinctive; we wrestle with the same issues, problems, demons and inconveniences of life as do many thousands, hundreds of thousands or millions every day; we race to bookshelves, the internet or the couch to get someone else’s advice only to reject it because we ‘know ourselves better’ than that, knowing that how we will chase an opportunity, an idea, an interest . . or someone . . will be so original, personal, private and singularly successful . .
poppycock; today there will be thousands (or maybe hundreds of thousands or millions) born, thousands will die; thousands will start a job, thousands will retire, thousands will have their first ice cream cone, thousands will have their first date, first kiss, first time; many will have their last meeting, last walk, last meal, last chat with someone; the next person you talk to, walk with, touch, eat with, sleep with, play with, argue with – the next person you touch will likely not be your last, but you might be their last encounter; what if we changed how we deal with this, how we deal with ONLY this one thing about ourselves?
forget all the rest; don’t struggle to change anything else in your life, not one thing except THIS ONE thing; each chat you have with someone (it could be the gas bar clerk, the 411 operator, the family member, the person on the next seat, the next pew or the next pillow, in the next minute, next hour or next day) . . . imagine changing just this one thing; if you do the math there is probably some outrageous statistic to prove how rare this is, but 6.5 billion of us will have a ‘last experience’ on earth – the next conversation you have with someone might be just such a last experience; sure, odds are low, but the probability is not absolute zero – it could be their last and you are witness to it, part of it
imagine then, if your communication with EVERYONE you encounter might just be the very last experience of THEIR life (or yours)
or, the odds of this are much higher, a uniquely new one that might be worth chasing after - no need to do the math, trust me on this
Mark Kolke
223,992
200.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
June 23 responses
Thank you Mark. I am reading this while on my way to Edmonton to attend funeral. My daughter wrote the eulogy and it is beautiful and touching. It is for her grandmother, my ex mother in law (although I never really divorced her... Just her son), a special lady who had lived a long full life. Eulogies have a way of touching us that other tributes don't. I find myself wondering what people will say about me and it causes me to pause and examine my own life, my own actions and contributions. Of you they will say he shared himself daily ... Thank you, NL, Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
early today - Saturday, June 23, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
12C/53F (high 22C), some cloud, calm; cars drift by, no one out aside from us and a few ducklings on the lagoon, Gusta enjoys her romp in that tall grass a little more each day as it grows taller/thicker, her undercarriage dripping with dew , my right foot cramping for some reason cut our walk short – or maybe I needed to walk slow for other reasons
long before my walk, long before I read my pile of papers, before wading through e-mails, voice mails and other ‘stuff’ that stands between me and my day, there is usually something that comes first - not thoughts as I stumble through my ‘visiting’ routine, not a treatise on how I poured water into a cup I thought was half empty (1/3rd tomato juice) to produce something really strange to wash down a pill, not the reflections on a dream or last night’s ‘whatever those thoughts were’ as I drifted off on the couch around 9PM to wake at 3:45AM just long enough to wander to bed for a couple of hours more rest
just as we were about to head out for our walk, the phone rang - I didn’t recognize the name displayed, but distinctive voice immediately identified PT; lengthy conversation ensued - the subject, my thoughts, my focus now altered - resonating these last few hours; sure, I’ll do my tasks this weekend, I’ll keep my appointments but I will have an altered focus in my mind because the phone rang
I’m thinking on two things; first, how important and powerful that ‘first major influence of the day’ is to mindset, productivity; the second, the content of that call; an acquaintance from Toastmasters – she’s not been around for more than a year; she called to report that the friend (TK the cookie baking machine) who came with her and encouraged her to show up, had met a guy, married, moved to Houston and moved back again and extolled how fabulously TK is doing; it went on and on and on and on - OK, OK, but . . why, really, is she calling?
it took a while - (by then I was shuffling feet, anxious to exit the call, I even said ‘I was just on my way out when you called’ [I was] in hopes she would wind up); she indicated ‘thanks to everyone at our Toastmasters club’; that experience, she explained, was key to her having the ability to write and deliver a eulogy – asking that I pass her thanks along to our members, she also said she called to say thank you to me; I asked ‘for what?; ‘for listening’ she said
on June 7th her son, at 37, died after a lengthy hospital stay (the last of many in his short life); a PDD fellow (person with a developmental disability) I’d heard about many times, his issues relayed to me in many a previous lengthy call - those calls always about ‘issues du jour’, to brainstorm solutions or at least discuss ways to get him better services, avenues to pursue, that kind of thing; today, joy has replaced the sadness in her voice I remember from those other calls – I could hear the sound of relief in her voice too; her son had, in so many ways she told me about, lived a rich life to his fullest, had touched many more people than she had ever imagined, his suffering finally relieved – I am sure it was an outstanding eulogy
I cannot imagine the horror of losing a child for any reason in any way; I suppose those who see it coming, who lose the game by inches over time, have a better opportunity to prepare for an inevitability as opposed to those who get sudden shocking news; celebrating a life lived, however fragile it might have become, celebrating someone who experienced joys, accomplishments and influence of others in his struggles and triumphs
that first strong thought of the day - the kind of thought that overrides everything else that day - is, for me, powerful - it sets the train in motion on a track that is often slowed by a day's events but not often derailed; it comes without regard to how much coffee has been ingested, without reference to time on a clock - sometimes it shows up early, some days as late as noon, but rare is the day it fails to show up at all; it showed up early today
(I'm often reminded of lessons learned in the past from inappropriately telling someone else's story when it was not mine to tell - now and again exceptions are warranted and this is one of those days)
Mark Kolke
224,016
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Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Friday, June 22, 2007
June 22 responses
There is a book you might be interested in called "The Canadian in America" by Brian Wruk. It is written with the intention of laying out the considerations toward business, asset allocation, taxes, etc. Food for thought, PB, Calgary
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
just visiting - Friday, June 22, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
10C/50F (high 26C), sunny, we visited the park around the lagoon, Gusta wary of the geese standing guard on the shore like bookends, five goslings lined up between them, watching closing to be sure when Gusta’s visit was over; I walked the path, Gusta galloped through the long grass till she found a place where something, deer I suppose, had flattened the grass on an overnight visit
what lovely ‘distraction’ comments from TG from New York; one of my favorite places to visit (14 times I think) wrote a lovely response to yesterday’s musing worth noting – thank you for visiting those few precious words on me
I was just thinking the other day how I miss visiting a great deli late in the evening after visiting Broadway for a show, visiting Central Park in a carriage ride, visiting museums and galleries and visiting the ‘feel of New York’, visiting a street corner pretzel vendor or visiting Radio City, visiting FAO Shwarz and so on . .
interesting, I think of NYC as visiting; I realize visiting Maui is going to become more like going home and returning to Calgary will be VISITING as I shift my life around in the next few years
yesterday’s first day of summer milestone reminds us that school will soon be done, vacations and trips to visit friends, visit relatives, visit ‘wonders of nature’ and visits to all the places in between . .
this life is something we can struggle with or not; that choice of determining if every thing we do is chore, labour or burden is easier somehow, if we just think of it as a visit (though visiting the dentist will never be fun for me)
life is something we are all passing through, just visiting if you will; have a nice visit
every morning I get up; my first steps take me around a familiar pattern – not efficient – but practiced; it involves using the bathroom (1 visit for a pill, 1 to pee, 1 to brush teeth), visiting the kitchen (1 to turn on the coffee, 1 to get juice, 1 to get the first cup of coffee), visiting my office (1 to turn on the computer and open email to see what came in overnight, 1 to set up my template for writing musings, 1 to begin writing before I walk – 1 visit is empty handed, 1 with juice, 1 with coffee in hand), visiting Gusta to wake her up and open her kennel, visiting the closet to get her some food, visiting a sink to fill her water dish followed by visiting the other closet to get my walking shoes; in between somewhere I visit the bedroom one or two times in the course of getting dressed
I visit the kitchen again, for that second cup of coffee (I got a new coffee maker last week that is superb, it cooks the coffee and deposits it in a thermos-like metal carafe so the coffee is not being constantly heated by a burner so repeat visits are great); then I visit my office again to begin writing these musings; some days I write a little, some days a lot – it used to be very hard to get started, over time it has become difficult to stop
then we go out to visit nature; on rainy days it seems visited upon us, but most days we visit the park, the lagoon, the trails . . almost always familiar places, then we return to Fish Creek Pointe’s front door, collect morning papers, and return to visit the kitchen for breakfast etc. and the day begins
my walks some days are not far removed from that sequence that begins with first steps into the bathroom – followed by routine I could do in my sleep and some mornings it feels that way
I must dash downtown now; visiting with JJ over breakfast at the 1886 café (it’s been a while so there is lots of catching up to do, then off to visit with a client I’ve not seen in a while to see his new premises he leased through me last year; in the course of those errands I need to visit my office, visit my bank, visit my dry cleaner, visit the post office, visit a client to drop off a lease, visit the Y for a workout and a steam, visit a few other errand stops on the way)
I am very busy just visiting
Mark Kolke
224,064
199.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
June 21 responses
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
from concentrate - Thursday, June 21, 2007
11C/52F(high 26C), bright and beautiful, light breeze; Gusta wanted to play with the kids, but duck and geese parents thought taking their broods for group swimming lessons was a better idea as we cruised around the lagoon this morning; back for papers and breakfast, real juice – not from concentrate
organized? yes I am, but, immune to diversions? . . less, then more, then less again – it seems to shift; this first day of summer (as does every day actually) brings opportunity for many diversions, many new ventures, adventures and scary rides on life’s work and play rollercoaster – the real deal
ask yourself: "If the greatest opportunity to come along in my life presented itself today (don't
expect it to be fully unwrapped displayed together with an instruction manual) would I recognize it, would I pursue it, would I concentrate on it, would I revel in it . . or would it pass by without so much as a notice?"
if that question doesn’t drive you to distraction, how about considering that there will be many such opportunities that whiz by you today; some will be someone saying ‘help me!’, some will be someone saying ‘can I help?’, some will be a diffident stranger, some will be tall with red hair, some will be short on something, some will be on fire, some will be burnt out, some will burn you, some will . . . need I go on?
you get the picture . . . this phenomenon arrives several times daily - takes the mind down a new path, it diverts, disturbs, distracts; this first official day of summer should, I thought, best be spent on the golf course but dealing with this week's distractions (and being available for today's nuances too) have left much not done, creating a conflict - golf will wait, but not long, I'll be pitching soon; I had a booking but a number of things over the last few days have served to bulge my work day . . and the dining room table is filled to overflowing, so I better get concentrating
what causes these distractions, so many this week, that leave me with still a big hump left the day after hump day?
c’mon Mark, focus, re-focus, change focus – blurry - re-focus; back to it, concentrate
when distractions arrive, in my view, there are two clear choices; the first is to ignore them completely, remaining focused on the task/interest at hand - I witness people doing this and, while I admire their ability to concentrate, I expect they smile less than I do, they miss the tastiness of life whizzing by them; the second choice is to set aside whatever is on the go to focus attention on that distraction; this often contributes to 'not missing anything' while 'not getting required work done'; there are perhaps a multitude of other options as opposed to these two, but I think all other options would be some risk-reward blends (would that be concentrate?) of these two
the next greatest best most fantastic thing we can imagine happening could be the next phone call, the next email, the next man, the next woman, the next child, the next animal we encounter might change our life; c’mon Mark, concentrate on that
next!
Mark Kolke
224,064
200.0
Musings need not be a monologue, but to make it a dialogue is dependent upon your responses, which are welcomed - please write me with your feedback/comments.
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
June 20, 2007 – responses
Pitching from sand to turf; pitching the word, pitching the garbage, pitching the line (too the cute one with the freckles) now pitching the wife, then pitching your tent. Perhaps others never draw the right conclusion to your thoughts; but some of the replies make it worth deliberately misleading your Pitch and striking out. "T" Here at Home, WT, Calgary
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©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
ready to pitch - Wednesday June 20, 2007
8C/46F (high 26C), calm, perfect blue sky, striking a ‘just right’ balance of mood as we walked the ridge path in the park where a strip of tall grass on each side of the paving was perfectly mown yesterday, as early joggers were bouncing along toward their destinations, Gusta chasing, to no avail, some mysterious scent high in the air that was rolling gently toward her, it made her crazy; we returned home as a clever approach shot through my mind
my mind focused on twists in meaning our words create; using only words, when we do it without precision or without knowing the party on the hearing/reading end knows what we are meaning, we set the stage on which we can only create confusion, contradiction, questioning, lack of clarity - often a very twisted meaning will be derived, possibly one very far from our intent
I’ve always enjoyed twists with words that sound so similar yet have different meanings – sometimes very diverse, sometimes not; I saw a headline, on a magazine cover, identifying an article within: perfect pitching . . . what does that mean: to pitch – baseball, cricket, selling something or selling an idea ?
in golf, perfect pitching means a clever approach shot, hitting it just right striking a 'just right' balance of speed , arc and spin, sending it high in the air against a perfect blue sky, landing it on the perfectly mown green surface where many a golfer's fantasy resides, bouncing along toward the pin, rolling gently until the ball comes to rest within tap-in distance - perfect
pitching
a 'man from mars' (perhaps an engineer) might think it one of those other meanings, but those of us who golf know exactly what it means; and in this case, a golf magazine, it really did mean what one does with a pitching wedge; but a pitching wedge, a lofted iron, is not really a wedge at all; a wedge, on the other hand, is shape, a device we use (ie: door stop) to prop things up, to hold things tight; to the non golfer or the man or woman from mars this would make no sense at all
perfect pitching, to someone with no golf interest, might mean singing well or selling well; I can’t carry a note (singing a song as opposed to physically carrying a piece of paper) but perfect pitching, in this case, a golfing term, very different from perfect pitch, which in turn is different from a perfect pitcher, in turn(I could go on about intern or in tern .. the bird) different again from a perfect picture, but “you get the picture” or do you get the pitcher?
longest days are ones when I seem to get little accomplished, followed by my shortest nights when I stay awake worrying about my longest days; my best days are perfect pitching days; today might be a perfect pitching day, so might tomorrow; today is the last day of spring, tonight the shortest night (meaning amount of darkness) leading to tomorrow as the longest day of the year (meaning longest period of daylight); you see, each day is 24 hours no matter how we stretch, state or compartmentalize it; any way, anyway, it’s the same however you pitch it
when someone, from any planet, makes an observation, however accurately they think it describes something obvious, the way it is conveyed to me is what I hear, what I respond to; words are just words until they trigger some thought, some feeling, some previous experience; when you say what you mean, is it clear to the person you are talking/writing to, what is your message, what are you trying to say, what it is that you mean?
pitching, while never perfect, improves with practice, with critique, and more practice; golf, writing, selling, delicious food, delicious women, speaking well, working well, playing well, Maui – these passions are interwoven in me – each is far from perfect, but I’ll keep pitching
Mark Kolke
224,088
200.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but rather a dialogue opportunity to discuss issues that touch a nerve or a heart-string, a sore point or a point of view that will contribute to the discussion. Your responses are welcomed; please write me with your feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
June 19, 2007 – responses
Your musings are a positive benefit to the world, GD, ?
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©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
fencing time - Tuesday, June 19, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
10C/50F (22C), sunny, light breeze; garbage day in the neighbourhood so Gusta enjoyed the smell-smorgasbord and attention of guys riding the back of the garbage truck; we walked through the mini-park (better described, lap-dog lane), no encounters – fresh morning air is the best air of the day
some people prove they are less than you thought, others prove they are far more; sometimes we get opportunities, sometimes we give them; what matters most I think is what we do with them . . not for the ultimate result, or lack of one, but because of what it reveals in ourselves and some great (or not so great) things we get to observe in others
I find it interesting, when I offer someone exactly what they asked for; results can involve surprise, ‘deer in the headlights’, sputtering . . or sometimes complete obliviousness (or the fake version of that)
opportunities for communication experiments riddled my day yesterday – missed messages, mixed messages and one person who went beyond being a jerk by simply going overboard (off with their head!); I tossed out some invitations, some ideas, some sweet thoughts, some barbs – I got some things started, nipped some in the bud, stopped someone in their tracks and went right over the head of another (what can I say, she’s an engineer)
to fence, or not to fence? . . . a good question worth asking often; thrust and parry, poke, prod, build or tear down
good fences really make good neighbours?
fencing – sport, white clad athletes attempt to score points poking others with a sharp stick
fencing – work, marking territory, putting a fence around something, establish boundaries
I don’t play poker well, I’m not good at cards - I don’t hide my feelings well, don’t have one good clue about how to fake expressions disguising my happiness, my disgust, my fears, my confusion, my hopes or my anxiety
it riled me; it passed, then came back; someone wrote with a comment that bit me, not so much for its volume or its observations on my previous writing on the subject, but because the writer elected to take a shot at my mother, not at me, but at someone they’ve never known; I could have ignored it or written back saying ‘bite me!’
I replied indicating the comment stung in hopes a kind person with some thoughtfulness might recognize that it did - I got a rebuke (longer than the initial note) going on about how wrong I was, right they were; the note lectured that because I put myself ‘out there’ I should expect it, in fact that I invite it – perhaps I do, but at least in football people who do get a penalty for piling on
go ahead, anyone - ask me how I feel, ask me anything – but if you want to fight, fight fair and bring a point, but if you want to poke me unfairly, better bring a sharp stick
some good chat yesterday with BP, BS & AH – thank you for your support; BS, get better please – my thoughts are with you and your family
Mark Kolke
224,112
201.0
Musings need not be a monologue, but rather a dialogue opportunity to discuss issues that touch a nerve or a heart-string, a sore point or a point of view that will contribute to the discussion. Your responses are welcomed, use your reply button – please give me your feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Monday, June 18, 2007
June 18, 2007 – responses
Happy Belated Father's Day! I think your last line says it all... "I could have done worse, I could not have done better." A great tribute to a father!, SL, Calgary
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©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
do we have it backwards - Monday, June 18, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park
6C/42F (high 19C), brilliant sunshine, grass forest everywhere we walked; rain left a puddle in every indentation in Calgary; rivers, creeks and lagoons ready to overflow soon . . Gusta, oblivious to everything imagines she might even catch one of those plump robins feasting on a worm banquet on our path but she cannot grasp the impact of distance; yesterday was as perfect as a record rainy father’s day could be; talked to mine, made breakfast for one daughter, talked on the phone with the other; gifts and cards are nice but talking – now those are the real gifts that matter more than anything else could; we are family – nothing else needs to be known for it to be understood, to work, to continue, to matter, to remain connected
is measuring an experience, or a person, compared to the ‘best’ and ‘worst’ we’ve experiences really a relevant comparison; if we only had chocolate, vanilla and strawberry to choose from, then the choices are clear, but 96 flavours changes everything doesn’t it?
if we’ve only had important relationships with two or three people, then our benchmarks of best, worst, most desirable, least desirable become parameters of measurement; when we have known many people closely, I think the percentage who show up on the ‘preferred’ end of the scale diminish
if our world is small, if we’ve never been far off the farm, then ‘town’ is a pretty big place, a city is monstrous and our world is small; conversely, if we’ve traveled a lot, our gradations of value attached to those we like the most could fill volumes; so, my question is: how do we take the measure of someone, to determine their value, their worth – do we use a tape, a scale, a calculator, a camera; or a touch, a hug, a telephone call; or, do we just dive in to the deep end of the pool and expect things to work out?
someone I had a date with recently said she hates the interviewing – preferring instead to take the job on a probationary basis rather than to be asking and answering so many probing questions, suggesting that: if it works, it works; if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work - I find that thinking refreshing, like Tom Peters’ maxim of ‘ready, fire, aim’
I wonder, when I/we seek a loving connection with someone else – as friend, lover, mate, buddy, pal, confidante, companion etc – why can’t we just use the same process we use with our family members?
we don’t reduce it to questions – it just is; we don’t examine it to see if it has changed, we don’t measure it to see if it has grown; I didn’t ask my kids to love me and they didn’t send an advance email message inquiring if I would love them – they arrived and I just did; it began from the moment they arrived and will last until I’ve departed; the notion of loving someone else as I love my children has a lot of appeal – it would require no thought; in the case of my children, I don’t wonder about it, I don’t think it over – I don’t debate pros and cons, positives against negatives; neither do they
instead of measuring people or of measuring life, I'm shifting toward the belief we might be best off if we just live it and then watch to see the story unfold
Mark Kolke
224,136
203.2
Musings need not be a monologue, but rather a dialogue opportunity to discuss issues that touch a nerve or a heart-string, a sore point or a point of view that will contribute to the discussion. Your responses are welcomed, use your reply button – please give me your feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
June 17, 2007 – responses
My Dad died two years ago. I don't seem to miss him much. Even though he and my mother stayed married together for over 50 years, and he was right there, he wasn't really. He was a "good" man, but I eventually understood that he was also a hurt puppy. To his dying day a little boy who would never be good enough or loved enough by his parents, or any body else. Scared of love, scared of rejection, keeping the ones at a distance who would love him most, and needed him to love us. Sucking up the superficial approval of ones who didn't really care, like customers, theater audiences, golf buddies, and yes, even girlfriends. He was loved, very much, and he loved us, and showed us in the ritualized ways that felt safe to him. I understand that. I was with him when he died. I can tell you the truth, when he left this life for whatever is next, he was carried by such a profound Love that I am awestruck to remember it. God, Jesus, Angels, whoever, I've never been in the presence of such love, except moments like now, when I am remembering. We are always surrounded by such love as that, and we can feel it when we let down our armor. Some of us have be dying to dissolve our defenses, maybe. What a shame that is. Happy Father's Day, Mark, CS, Maine
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my father’s son - Sunday June 17, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from my home near Fish Creek Park in Calgary
8C/47F (high 10); wind, rain, cloud; dry dog out, wet dog home, our walk uninterrupted by encounters as wind in the tall grass kept us company on our ridge path walk in the park
relaxing day - picked up new glasses, shopping and afternoon at the movies, dinner with my dad, hangin’ out with my daughter Carla yesterday
men, you’re a father or you’re not by choice, but whether you want to be or not, we are each always sons of fathers - whether we liked him or not; I am my father’s son and you are yours; a job for life whether or not he performed it, whether or not he had aptitude or desire, showed interest or even lived in the same time zone; it runs in families I suppose - traits and genes and DNA passed from generation to generation; but are the skills and traits of fatherhood really passed along that way?
my grandfather died when I was 5; I remember that bristly white mustache, holding me on his knee, I remember him smiling; I’ve seen that smile many times in his son; I saw it again last night as my dad gave one of those smiles to my daughter – I remember when she was 5 and sitting on his knee, he was smiling the same smile then
being a father is the greatest job in the world; easy to get this job, very simple to do this job yet it comes with expectations of predictable results (we are silly sometimes) and I cannot imagine any man who can think of a better job worth doing, a better role to play
being a father (small DNA donation gets you started) - no formal job description, no time-clock to punch, no hours to keep
motherhood, mothering, things maternal - begins at conception, instinctive, imprinted; fatherhood is different, chosen, learned
a job for life whether we show up or not, it has little to do with what you say or think or plan to do about anything, it has to do with who you are, whether or not you matter, whether or not you are relevant, what kind of knee you have to sit on and what kind of smile you have; this job has little formality except for this annual (today) performance appraisal; some men who do it well graduate; they get promoted to be a grand-father or a great-grandfather or, as is the case with my dad, to be recognized as a really ‘great’ grandfather
I am my father’s son, as he was his father’s son and as my grandfather was his father’s son; I've not deliberately tried to follow his example but I think I have in some ways; I'm proud of that, I'm happy about that
this father’s day I think of fathering as a day of pride, a day of smiles, a day of feeling blessed in some way because of how I was treated by the man who gave me life, who gave me a start, who gave me a nudge a wink or a push, who gave me a ride on his shoulders, a man with a thumb to grip when my fingers were tiny, a hand to shake when I grew, a man with smiles to give, a man who showed me his way by his example far more than by his words, a man to hug and to hold
I can’t recall ever not wanting to be my father’s son; I could have done worse, I could not have done better
Mark Kolke
224,160
203.2
Musings need not be a monologue, but rather a dialogue opportunity to discuss issues that touch a nerve or a heart-string, a sore point or a point of view that will contribute to the discussion. Your responses are welcomed, use your reply button – please give me your feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
June 16, 2007 – responses
There is still mystic to a warm hug, no matter who denies it there remains a sensual moment in each. Universal face to face, body to body even shoelace to shoelace. Human contact filtered through clothes, the heart swells, the mind races, the inevitable urge to constrict. A father a memory be it sad or memorable despite the absence of affection the knot deep within remains. The children never became a reality the grand kids never had the opportunity to savour his gentle side. Time to forgive and not forget. “T" Here at home, WT, Calgary
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©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.
supposed to be - Saturday, June 16, 2007
today’s Musing written and published from my home near Fish Creek Park in Calgary
9C/49F (high 18C), damp, damp, damp rainy weekend - gray everywhere, Gusta perplexed by duck children taking swimming lessons as we walked by the lagoon - like a morning at the Y, fathers hanging back at the edge while youngsters paddle; I arrived back from Vancouver (photo attached - scroll down - shows my playing partners from the other day - Russ, Chris and Frank Chris at the Globe lemonade stand), Carla arrived for the weekend (Krista had to work so
she did not come), rain arrived, fathers day weekend arrived - feels like Vancouver, looks like Vancouver, damp too; drying out, drinking splendid coffee, hangin' out with one of my kids, I read my Globe, time to write
I am at one moment a father, a son, both the observer and the observed; more poignant for me each year are those chats with friends who lost their father; not that they have misplaced him at a rink or swimming pool somewhere, but because he died along the way
I miss times I was not there to be what I ought to have been for my children; I miss moments we never had, treasure ones we did; Carla is here with me this weekend, Krista not . . I’ll miss her but we don’t need to be together to feel strongly connected; 200 miles or 20 days or 2 lifetimes cannot break that kind of connection; I have no idea how my children view me now; sure I know what they say and I think I get it by watching their words, behaviours, tone, expressions; one day when they are middle aged and I am very old I wonder how they will view me then, how they will view the father I was at 29, at 49 or 89 – noses out of joint now and again, feelings misplaced, but in the long run I don’t think our feelings for each other are misplaced at all – I am who I am supposed to be, as are they
some of us must have misplaced our fathers, because we miss them so much?
I am luckier than so many; mine is still with me - a mile away, I talk to him daily, see him at least once a week, but I miss him; I miss the playing we didn't do when I was a toddler but a simple smile now erases all of that; I miss the hangin' around rough-housing we didn't do when I was a teen - but that seems pale compared to a few minutes over a meal or taking him
on an errand to get that something special he needs; I may have missed some things he never was but they are nothing to me now
do we misplace our fathers?
not left someplace like some mitten or forgotten like yesterday's news - but misplaced as in put in the wrong place, misplaced as in that we hold onto the some very old (perhaps skewed) view of them; some people think their fathers were too old, too young, too distant, too close; some were never around and some would never leave; some were everything and some were nothing much at all; holding on to the view we might have had at 5 or 7 or 19 is no less real than the moment it takes to call up the memory, to relive the feelings we had about what horror the 5 or 7 or 19 yr old in us remembers
I may have misplaced a lot of feelings about my dad sometimes over the years, sometimes because I was genuinely aggrieved but mostly because I was not smart enough then to know that things were just as they were supposed to be – he was supposed to be him, I was supposed to be me – we were, we are, we always will be
sometimes absent, sometimes not engaged – most times he did not or could not tell me how he felt; his actions spoke pretty loud, still do – I may have misplaced my assessment of him from time to time but it seems he was a consistent man who never wavered from how he felt about his son, ever; to be my father’s son could not be better in any way I know
I’ll miss him when he is gone, but he will never be misplaced
Mark Kolke
224,184
202.4
Musings need not be a monologue, but rather a dialogue opportunity to discuss issues that touch a nerve or a heart-string, a sore point or a point of view that will contribute to the discussion. Your responses are welcomed, use your reply button – please give me your feedback/comments.
To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to musing@maxcomm.ca
©2007 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.