Musing

My father picked his path years ago and lived each day like it would be his last. I am heading home this weekend for his memorial service after spending a week at his bedside watching life slip away from him. When I got to the hospital he was alert and I asked how he was...he told me 'I'm dying'...my response was 'that's part of living, Dad'. The aftermath is he didn't plan much ahead for my mother's welfare (she's 6 yrs younger than he) and now we are busy scrambling to piece things together for her. I know it makes me think more about how and what I will leave behind, what my mark will be. SL, Calgary

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Where are you-Hawaii? Haven't heard from you all week, MJR, Calgary

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The wind bloweth where it listeth, and carries with it dust, water droplets, fumes, sound and whatever is movable along its path. Over millennia it even destroys statues and sculpts rock. Our "emphasis, passion and time" is often dictated by external circumstances, but to the extent possible that it can arise de novo within our mind and gut, it is far more rewarding. My epitaph will be the most succinct statement of my life possible; may it be inspiring, EG, Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -15C/4F, overcast, invigorating, Gusta was a little sluggish this morning - I think she misses the menagerie at PB's but that was quickly forgot as she romped around the lagoon this morning; now sleeping at my feet, her 'dog dream' noises - twitches and soft whimpers - makes me wonder what dogs dream of; maybe the stress of coping with reality, thrill of the chase, delicacy of keeping a work/life and sleep balance, the drive to thrive, the struggle to accept her reality and take responsibility for it - I wonder, if dogs think or dream or fret about these things

my mind, open to many things, closed to few – I like it that way; I’m no tower of intellect, no pillar of community, no clarion voice – just a soft whimper in the wind, unnoticed by the world - no point tilting at the wind, the wind doesn’t care or notice life at all, it just keeps blowing and, contrary to the song lyric, the answers are somewhere else

we all decide where we place emphasis, passion and time; convenient perhaps to have clearly stated ‘mission, vision, values’ statements as if our ‘self’ is an organization – maybe then we should re-engineer our lives by viewing the end product first, then work backwards to assemble the ingredients required to get there; today is ‘cardiac clinic day’ for my dad – a time I get to share with him, the thoughts these days produce are not daunting but neither are they casual – focused on the point of life and admiring his

down a long path I see autumn leaves in a graveyard, I imagine what kind of epitaph might be inscribed on a tombstone – I want to live my life so that is true when I get there; along the way no one thinks the thoughts I thought they did, no one felt the feelings I thought they did; in saying we are ‘doing what we want to do’, do we do really do what we think others want without examining our own choice making responsibility?

between beginning and end this thing in the middle is called a life – something I spend and often squander parts of; my physical being does work stuff, play stuff, relationship stuff, parenting stuff, community stuff – live and eat and sleep and get up the next day to do it all again, often with little variety, with little feeling of control over circumstances – forgetting sometimes, that everything concerning every moment of my life is within my control, arises from my choices and will only change when I make different choices

in life there is no understanding or consensus on ‘a beginning’ other than to agree there must have been one; in my view the point of life is to live it – live it raw, uncooked, clear; in death there won’t be much discussion about it, and the wind won’t care

the point, if life has one, must have something to do with the deep impression we can make – so press hard, make your impression a deep one – if your life is worthwhile that impression will long outlive you, if not then it won’t; either way the wind won’t care so pick the path you want and leave some deep unapologetic tracks

Mark Kolke
338,628
198.5

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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Please continue Musings – I enjoy reading it…., OH, Calgary

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Hi Mark, What is this all about? Tks, CS, London, UK

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Yeah.., it's very entertaining, MH, Maui, HI

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The wildflowers are on the mountainside not because they want to be, but because they can be; there is room there, and everything it needs. Similarly to mankind; from its alleged origin in Africa to the spread around the world the species has been shown to be able to adapt and flourish. For their achievement, both the flower and mankind have been rewarded with beauty and character. As for the misfires and eventual hits, that has been the story of evolution has it not? And still we probe reality with our experiments and calculations, and many times new important knowledge is gained by accident, as probably the invention of fire was, and certainly the invention of penicillin, the essential staining of the tubercle bacillus, and now the accidental stimulation of a memory area of the human brain during a routine stimulation for another reason causing a dramatic increase in memory. So we do in daily life in many aspects. Our aims are noble and true, but something often happens to divert the missile. But the ultimate goal is to eventually make most of our firings hits, EG, Calgary

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Hi Mark, Thanks for keep sending this to me and I love to read everyday, can you please send it to my personal email account starting from tomorrow at XXXXX thanks a lot, SC, Hong Kong

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -28C/-18F, clear, sunny, calm and very cold but somewhat balmy compared to the last couple of days – Gusta walked the lagoon route, I followed, silent dormant trees watched – patiently waiting for a better day


survivors (not a TV show) pummeled by wind, pelted by rain, blistered by sun, obliterated by season change - wildflowers flourish on mountainsides untended, rain or shine; if it’s a bad day today, they show up again every day and the day after that too - patiently waiting for a better day

any given day billions of events, billions of us, pelted with reality, the world oblivious to our existence, without note, never to be in history books - many are critical to survival, but most will never matter to anyone else - which does not diminish how important those events might be to any one of us

most things of importance happen by accident or actions of others; imagine if we each tried a little each day – or maybe just for one very energetic day; whether I start late or had a misfire, if I am at least taking a shot at something - then I will hit something; I may miss the target many times but the closer I come and the more often I try the better my chances; I’ll keep firing, reloading and firing again

missing, missing again and again and again does not mean road to ruin or path to the funny-house; it means I am not prepared to give up on dreams simply because the results I want have not yet come easily or that they ever will; it would be nice if the sun shone on me, gentle nourishment from somewhere arriving without my effort - I would smile and say ‘welcome’; but having such expectation is dreaming - I want my ideas to hit, my ventures to work; each time I misfire I reload

Mark Kolke
338,652
199.0

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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Hi Mark - I read your "Musings" every day and enjoy them very much. Please keep me on your mailing list... and thanks for writing and never missing a single day... S, Sunny Saskatoon, SK

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I wonder why we all experience that phenomenon, complete wisdom starting at about age fifteen as I remember, driving our parents crazy in the process, and then by the early twenties realizing that it really isn't so. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism inherited from our remote ancestors who might have been forced to leave the cave and fend for themselves at puberty; such a feeling would give self-confidence. We then acquire wisdom slowly as we should. While I'm still hopefully doing this, I would like to feel inspired, and would like to inspire others as a spill-over effect. Where in the road do I stand now? Hard to say; in recorded history it has no beginning and no end. And I don't wish to stand now, but move forward, EG, Calgary

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Hey Mark, It looked as though your 'confirm' was a link in which to do just that. I clicked on it and it said no such address. Just FYI. I do want to continue on the list.......how can I not.....I am an original! I had a lot of trouble for the longest time getting them because they always went to my spam box.........even though you are on my email list as is every address that you have given me in association with you or the musings. I think it was something in your set up.....Now, for some reason, for about the last month or so, they have been received just fine and not going to my spam mail. Hope it keeps it up! (I hated having to go in there to retrieve them!) BTW......have I told you lately how much I like that pic you have on there??, AS, Oklahoma City, OK

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Tried to send this other ways but don't think it got through so will try it this way. I got dropped off your email list a while back and would like to be put back on. Thanks, SH, Calgary

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HI Mark, Like others, I tried to click on “confirm”, but it didn’t seem to work. Please keep me on the Musings mailout list, KS, Netherlands?

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Please keep me on your distribution list! Nothing witty to add! Thanks, BI, Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -32C/-25F, -44F wind chill factor, steady breeze but less than yesterday, we could see the moon through the fuzzy, early risers rolled down streets on squared tires, Gusta went all the way to the soccer fields and back, her business not done - I found it too cold to hold a key barehanded for thirty seconds while threading my key in the lock, so I can’t blame her

best dreams, ardent desires and best skills were not aligned most of my life – seem sorted now - I often revisit questions of path, direction, velocity; when I was seventeen, I knew everything, by twenty-one I knew even more, by twenty-six I knew so much I was insufferable and then, far too slowly, I began to acquire come understanding

I cannot be content with a ‘without change’ approach; while there may be ease or comfort in walking the middle of the road (but look out for traffic), not in the ditch or near it, not in the fast lane or the slow one – just standing out in the middle; some people stand out a lot that way, but do they know who they are?

the only discomfort in that mid-road strategy might be taking a look in the mirror to say ‘who am I, where have I come from, where am I going, am I on a path that will get me there?’ and then taking action steps to make it happen; I’d like to think I have something passionate worth saying every day – something burning inside that struggles to get out, as it struggles to stay inside – the ‘is this constructive vs. destructive’ question always lurking; some days more than others, but most days

I have no ambition to inspire anyone or wake them up, I’m too busy trying to wake me; I have something I look forward to; I don’t heed the call of the wild (hate camping), I don’t heed the call of a faith or religion, I don’t heed the call of anyone telling me what to do - but something keeps calling me to the keyboard each morn

I am headed, I hope, to a place where ‘cold’ is absent - geographically and mentally, where I can revel in my lack of knowing and spend all my time in pursuit of learning something; I am driven by a society that measures one’s success by how much we earn, how big a house we have or the prestigious place we call our calling - standing here, at mid-life I feel like I am still somewhere around the starting post, not waiting for the starter’s gun but running as fast as I can - there is so very far to go, so much to see of life right where I am

I am my own cause, I am my own effect

Mark Kolke
338,676
199.0


... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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I like to receive your thoughts. I have no idea how you got hold of me, but I'm glad you did, LH, ?

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Hello Mark. I had been getting your Musings on two e-mail systems. I recently 'unsubscribed' on one of them, which seems to have precipitated 'un-subscription' on the other one as well. Please put me back on your list under XXX , Thanks and regards, DP, Calgary

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I receive your writings daily and enjoy reading them (although I usually play catch up once a week or so.) I would like to continue to receive them as I enjoy your perspective. I think I was added when you and I spoke about renting office space early last year, KR, Calgary

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I was away for a couple of weeks recuperating from surgery and I guess my "fill in" asked that your daily musings not be sent to XXXX Please re-instate us as we enjoy them so very very much. Stay warm! Thanks! , B?, Calgary

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Hi Mark: Here's something to Muse on: West Hollywood, Calif. – January 23, 2008 - Barney’s Beanery, the third oldest restaurant in Los Angeles and venerable roadhouse/famed celebrity hangout, will host a “Super Tuesday Countdown Beer Vote”. Polling activities will be conducted from 9 am until 2am Monday, Feb. 4, and continue from 9 am through 5 p.m. on Super Tuesday when the voting spigots will close. Unlike official polling sites, Barney’s venues will make public record of votes, keeping a running total as they are executed, MH, Los Angeles, CA

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I would like to stay on your list! I don't manage to read every one, but like the ones I am prompted to read! I have sent a few responses using "reply," but it is probable that you don't receive them. I am planning to come into Calgary before the August Int'l and would love to visit your advanced club (or other.), BL, Bozeman, MT

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Yes, I would like to continue getting the musings. Your link to confirm didn't work; it couldn't find a URL to link with, SM, Calgary

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Confirming my interest :), CK, Edmonton, AB

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Please keep me on your list, Mark. I enjoy your musings every day and wouldn't want to start the day without them. Sincerely, LC, Calgary

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This is to confirm that I want to remain on your mailing list. Just some feedback too in regards to your announcement , the links do not work or at least they didn't for me. Have a great day !, CCC, Calgary

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Could you change my subscription address to XXX and remove XXX. And yes, I still enjoy receiving your daily musings, Thanks, JF, Calgary

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Dear Mark … Tried to “confirm” as you requested by clicking on the confirm link however your link did not open … hopefully you will accept this note as confirmation … I definitely want to remain on your reader’s list. Thank you … BBB, San Diego, CA

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Mark: I want to stay on your list and have been sending responses that were not printed so ...good info you gave this a.m. Keep musing, SM, Salmon Arm, BC

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Hope you are managing to stay warm! My receipt of musings stopped for a while and has now started up again. Unfortunately, I am not receiving the Facility email. If you are still sending those, could you please put me back on the list? Thanks so much!, MM, Calgary

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The morning walk and shoveling sound invigorating , and would prepare one for the contents of the left-over cauldron.The freezer and kiln-refined qualities of character and development of abilities sound true. We all have cold and heat in our past, and will have in future, some of it chosen, some of it not. They make us what we are, EG, Calgary

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -31C/-24F, windchill -47C, clear, steady north wind, small firm drifts to crunch (Gusta seemed to enjoy them) as we did a sprint around our alley route

like a stint in the deepfreeze - I started my morning shoveling drifted snow - wind gave my face a sting; when I came inside, my cheeks got hot

in golf, when an approach shot comes fast, hits the green and bounces off (something I do often) it is called ‘coming in too hot’ - I like that term and never complain when I hit the green, whatever the speed my ball is traveling

fridge-clearing time – once PB’s thick bottom soup pot got my brew boiling I left it simmering all afternoon; this brought warmth to my belly - water, left-over stew, left-over spaghetti and sauce, left-over mysteries, carrots, tomatoes, garlic, celery, sweet onion, chives, nutmeg, pepper, black bean sauce, chili sauce, shallots, oregano, parsley, green onion . . . and lots of stirring

live fast, live hot, let heat change you - like clay baked into porcelain, when we get really hot, we never change back; if we live life feeling ‘it’s not hot enough’, that has nothing to do with the weather outside, it has to do with whether or not we are coming in hot

I’ve been told that the greater the heat, the stronger the steel - so turn up the heat, crank it up, c’mon get steamy - heat comes in waves, really living is searing, scorching the edges, boiling over to spill hotly on everything

heat I generate warms all around me, heat I spill is not lost but shared – on days like this I get fired up because living is hot, living is taking 98.6F to a higher degree, turning it up, turning it on - yesterday’s pot of fridge-clearing soup, today’s layering of wool or a warm grip of one hand holding another - it’s hot, really hot

Mark Kolke
338,700
198.5

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

Mark Twain's "storm of thought" must have referred to mental static or snow, not communicating meaning and hiding much, from which frames of clarity merge, deductions, inductions, ideas and creations. To that extent, he had something. On to middle age; I'm not sure if I still qualify, but I think I do, because I have lost little of my mid-age prime. I do notice that my thoughts are quieter, my emotions less strong, I'm more content with life in general. But my desire to be mentally and emotionally fulfilled and challenged continues unabated. There are many things I want to do in the time I have left, and actually more of these are accumulating. So we shall see. The storms are coming, almost without doubt, EG, Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -10C/12F, Gusta was walking fast, Sophie going slow, 73 pounds of dogs in rabbit-search mode - Gusta nearly got one, her 8 pound companion on 4 inch legs just struggled to keep up; a few snowflakes, steady north wind, temperature dropping, leading edge of a big storm on the way

‘Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one’s head.’ – Mark Twain

Twain’s storm sounds like a flood or fire or quake to guard against – I feel more of an ocean wave, or ice cream’s butterscotch rippling – turns and whirling, a softer feel, a warmer kind of tough, a softer sense of strong

winter’s wind brings a different sound than summer’s does– storm winds come and go, other breezes linger; too soon to ache for spring, breeze-easy comes with spring fever; the trees forget the past storms, the winds that made them strong, the tests that prepared them for the next mighty blow; a storm is coming, always

middle age seems to agree with me, but I am not so sure I agree with it; like those trees I creak and moan a little, but largely I enjoy health, opportunity and perspective – I see backward and forward about the same distance as I approach the mid-point between 20 and 95 - my ‘adult life’ measuring stick, I’m half spent, half left - I suffer no pain; not to say everything is fabulous all the time, but considering things that can go wrong, an ache here, a discomfort there . . these are tiny prices to pay I suppose

clouds cover my sky - like a tarp to protect it from the storm, every tree, every bush is moving a little, like linemen setting up stance before the ball is snapped – feet planted firm to stand the onslaught ; in my storm ride ahead, as it blows and blows, I’ll ride the best I know, but how I fare when I get there has nothing to do with the weather but whether or not I choose to enjoy the storm ride - storm coming, it’s already here

Mark Kolke
338,724
197.3

... with your voice, teach in order to learn

What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

Hi Mark! I have been away on Holidays for the past couple of weeks and was eagerly looking forward to catching up on your daily musings, however, I came home to nothing. Did you decide to quit doing them! Did I somehow get knocked off your mailing list! Please advise. If I somehow got taken off your mailing list please put me back on as I enjoyed they very much. If you decided to stop doing them please let me tell you how much I enjoyed them. Thanks, AJ, ?

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The origin of decay and evil is Satan (remember the lie—you will not surely die!). The origin of light & life is Jesus (Let there be light—remember the first day of creation). A fellow traveller, WP,?

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I find the physical properties of light very mysterious. Why is it a particle (photon) as well as a wave? Why is its velocity absolute? Why its relationship with mass and energy as in Einstein's famous equation? And why is its velocity the absolute limit that can be achieved? (At least relativity equations predict that) The artistic aspects are another matter; controlled fire and candlelight are both beautiful and hypnotic, as are the moon and stars. The sun is starkly beautiful in its own right. I'm sure ancient man thought the same way, EG, Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: 0C/32F, freeze nuzzles up to thaw, snow soft underfoot – looked steely blue-gray as a cloud lid kept daylight at bay, Gusta inspected fences as kitchen lights lit our way through a network of laneways

warm light of candle next to cool screen white – side by side - makes me wonder what it was like before pen, paper or central heading; before language when fire light cast shadows on cave walls; there was probably a cave shortage in those days with vagrants camping out in the jungle, upwardly mobile Neanderthals having already upgraded to caves with warm-white lighting

contrasts, of their own accord, don’t produce anything - like stop signs or pause signs, period at end of a sentence, barricade at end of a trail; separation makes one stand out from another – not better, not worse, not richer, not poorer, not healthy, not sick – just different, conceptual separation, demarcation one from the other

I went lamp shopping with PB yesterday – not so much a diligent search as store wandering in Inglewood, examining staff attitudes and initiative contrast each store as dramatically as its merchandise mix; I wonder if early cave dwellers painted the walls out of some strong urge to communicate their experience to the future, out of boredom or if it was because they just couldn’t get the attention of staff at the cave décor store?

light forms contrasts, light contrasts heavy, light contrasts dark, light is not an up-down thing, light is more than a flame or the opposite of the absence of anything; water flows – we see it – we understand where it goes and why; it finds its route by overcoming resistance, by using gravity and it goes so effortlessly; but light flows – we see it – in straight lines mostly it flows in any direction until an object of any kind blocks its path; not intuitive, it cannot find a path around a corner, over or through anything

shaping, sculpting, making something new as it burns, candle wants nothing – lit or not it has no feelings, no brain, but when it burns warmly it does so much more than light a wall or ignite an idea – a signal – be that meaning between people, meaning of event or occasion, it illuminates things but its best value is as entertainment for the eye as light pushes through wax to show every nuance of its manufacture, its strengths and weak spots

warm light of a candle next to cool screen white – side by side - makes me wonder what it was like before pen, paper or central heating; before language when fire light cast shadows on cave walls; there was probably a cave shortage in those days with vagrants camping out in the jungle, upwardly mobile Neanderthals having already upgraded to caves with warm-white lighting

Mark Kolke
338,748
199.2

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

I've always wondered why Heaven has always been associated with light, and Hell with darkness. However, the sun-god I can understand, because the sun is necessary for our survival, but there are also gods enshrouded in darkness, such as Poseidon. And I can also understand why good deeds are associated with light, and bad ones with darkness, because the perpetrators of the latter don't want to be seen. A light-bulb to signify a fresh idea bursting in my consciousness? Perhaps. On the other hand, light is not always partnered with warmth, or darkness with cold. Surely there is a place for both. Debate, a sometimes difficult way to discover truth, but often necessary, whether in politics or any other field. We can't advance without it, but we need the debaters to have a valid vision in the first place, then the power of persuasion, EG, Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -12C/10F, clear (no fog as predicted), floating humidity, fog is without meaning, just metaphor; its property is wetness of no commercial value, it is priceless – illusive, shows up when it wants, leaves when it wants, ice crystals make the roughest sidewalk rink like; we walked to the soccer fields and back, Gusta slipping with confusion, marvelous moonlit sights as, fog is gone – no sign of it, ice crystals left behind paint a spectacular hors frost show

when there is darkness, shedding light is not always a solution; when there is darkness there is not always an absence of anything other than an absence of light and sometimes it is simply a matter of waiting for the light to come

silencing debate – in a room or in my head is futile - counter intuitive at least, destructive at worst; brain, unexplored world, two hemispheres where I keep all my matters, gray and other shades too but, of late, not much great debate - competing ideas roll around in my head – focused but not logical, clarity eludes me, my brain says ‘its noisy in here’

debate takes place when people gather to hear clash of words on an idea battlefield – in noisy raucous rooms or caucus rooms, debate takes place any time or place when the right side of my brain wants to know what’s left or up or down, left to do or just left out

a post-fog chill, quiet cold surrounds, now light leaks into darkened room, computer screen casts a shadow of cool-white that makes me wish for the warm-white of a candle

Mark Kolke
338,772
197.3

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

To subscribe to Mark's Musings daily email distribution, write to mark@markmusing.com

©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

First about the popularity numbers. 48% in the polls means that all of the others together only get 52%; not so bad. Now to the Latimer case. As I understand it, he killed his functionally challenged daughter who was in daily, all-day severe pain, with no reasonable chance of improvement, ever. Certain other countries, notably the Netherlands, have laws allowing mercy killing. Here, it's been done quietly in hospitals for those in severe pain with terminal cancer, "Give her as much morphine as she needs to be comfortable" and babies with anencephaly (no brain) were simply given no nourishment so they passed away more quickly, although it's a fatal condition anyway. And withdrawing life support is very common, but can be controversial, as in the Terry Shiavo case. In the movie, "Million Dollar Baby," Clint Eastwood "pulled the plug" on Hilary Swank as she lay hopelessly disabled after her last fight. It made one think, but maybe the point is this: decisions like that should be reached by consultation with peers. I'm not at all sure Latimer should have been given "life" in the first place. And I certainly don't agree with him being denied parole. I thought that's reserved for people likely to re-offend, and he certainly doesn't fall in that category, EG, Calgary

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -11C/13F, crisp, light breeze, fading full moon watching over us as Gusta wanted to cross the road to make the acquaintance of a wailing chocolate Lab pup

I wasn’t 6/7th right or 1/7th wrong; I was right on 6, wrong on 1 . . . and everything that was wrong seemed fixable, correctible or could be done over; as children, teachers marked papers – we knew immediately what was right or wrong, correct or incorrect; there was always some certainty to rely on when I got ‘6/7’ scrawled in red at the top of a paper

life, sadly, is not like that – though opinion polls and media seem to imply it should be; as if 48% support means a failing grade or any measure of support at all; whether government or the corporate world, it seems a long way from ‘6 out of 7 right’ as I remember it

fraction (from the Latin fractus, to break), way of expressing a number of equal parts, ratio of numbers or variables, measure of how something is to be divided up or shared out

right thought, wrong idea, right thinking, left leaning, wronged, wrong righted – language, and perhaps our collective thinking, seems to view right and wrong like they are interchangeable for good or bad; I live in a country, like many, where right and wrong and rights vs. lack of rights is never as clearly defined by laws, court decisions and public policy as I would prefer; so much of right or wrong seems to determined by some person in some office somewhere deciding for me or for you what is right, what is wrong, what is OK, what is not . . . not always a man or woman or committee with authority, but all seem to wield power – none so great as what we each wield in our every action, in our own thoughts

when a fraction of reality is expanded or projected as if it is meaningful – it is just a rationalization; a lifetime, or a life, a mere fraction of a second in the great scheme of time, we live fractions of our lives – missing out on so much; when I read or hear about something, how can I understand anything with only a fraction of the information, some ratio of ideas to volume of data without knowing . . . but from such skimpy notions world altering choices are often made – sometimes choices so singular, so close to home

Robert Latimer is in the news again; I still think he was 6/7th wrong, it seems many see it the other way and support his release, if only he would say he was sorry; while I quarrel with the rationale that says he was right in law or in spirit for what he did, I must respect someone who stands firm in his conviction, who will not change a publicly stated view in order to get something – I respect that part, but not the other parts of him; maybe its time we called it a day and let him out of jail, recognizing we’ve all lost something and in doing so, maybe we will all realize we learned something from the loss of Tracy’s life

Mark Kolke
338,796
196.4

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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I don't agree that every path has its puddle, but on the other hand, it may have a pond! Yes, we tend to follow paths, but I like the admonition (I forget who coined it) "Walk not in the paths of others, but create a new path that others may follow," or something to that effect. Barrier-free design policy, path of travel and wayfinding; what elegant terms! They could be concepts of universal design. Nature certainly is elegant in design in one way, while chaotic in another. Einstein spent his life trying to find the one underlying elegant theory similar to your "simple" path, and failed. Does it exist? We may never know. And what is elegance if it is not beautiful? May we all have a clear path, and the means to master it, EG,Calgary

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

-13C/8F, calm, clearer than I’ve ever seen it, rabbits everywhere, Gusta stretching her leash to the limit every chance she got

Buddha and Thoreau both had much to say about pathways in the mind, on the ground and in how we organize our lives; it must be the right path because I feel so right about the path and my angst about lack of sufficient time and lack of patience seems to be subsiding . . not lots, but a little; as someone said, ‘every path has its puddle’; and there is almost always a path around the puddle - sometimes we need to leap it, sometimes we need to march right through like it was never an impediment to anything

some clutter fell away, then I saw the problem and its solution more clearly - a clear path, an elegant solution; on the same day someone wasted two hours of my time which could have been better spent chasing an illusive butterfly

in wasting there was a lesson, learning the obvious (now) not previously seen; methodical, plodding, sequential, thorough – gag me!! - that’s what I saw, that’s what I heard, this is what I felt: help, save me, lemme outta here . . I’m not like that; but, truth be told, I am in many respects – I prefer to think of myself as creative, instinctive, spontaneous and innovative – which I can be because, when I have to, I am those other things

in my work on barrier-free design policy for many years, there were two terms I learned and liked so much – long ago they found a home in my thinking about many things; ‘path of travel’ and ‘wayfinding’; my colleague Mark I. often reminds me these are concepts of universal design but I think they are so much more - these are metaphors for life

I see my path clearer than I’ve ever seen it, clutter cleared, I’ll splash away; I want a simple clear elegant path to grab hold of or one to grab hold of me - I don’t want easy, but I want simple; I don’t want complicated, but I want clear; I don’t want beautiful, but I want elegant; I don’t want an easy ride, but I want a clear path; I don’t want life handed to me, but I want a grip, I want a path and I want rubber boots

Mark Kolke
338,820
197.0

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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Interesting Musing today, as usual. Perhaps a bit more poignant as I too reflect on the "bashing" that my investments took yesterday - let alone for the last few weeks! Oh well, "Freedom 75" does have a nice ring to it, don't you think? Thankfully, your analysis of assets, income, etcetera brings the truly important "things" in life back into focus. I am particularly taken by your comment "an illusive pretty butterfly on the hand is worth holding steady for". I couldn't agree more! Keep on Musing - and enjoying the truly finer things in life. Regards, JN, ON

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True, reality is what is, so even the reality of shifting sand qualifies. Our days vary in their brightness, in both a subjective and objective way. Value is subjective unless you try to sell what you value, but who cares about that in the face of what it means to you? Your financial statement is exemplary and should be used as a template for all of us, EG, Calgary

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -2C/28F, cloudy, mild winds from the west fill nostrils, Gusta perplexed at a T intersection when two rabbits went opposite ways – both paths, about that same, would produce the same result; I should give her some Frost to read – in the distance, sirens wail as aid rushes to meet trouble

I know reality can shift like sand underfoot when a big wave surprises, so if I don’t want the risk of stumbling or getting wet, I should not walk the beach, should not risk being washed away or tossed aside by powers much greater than me – but I walk beaches anyway

today will be brighter than yesterday – depending on what I think about, on what I am working for, on what value and what it is worth to me; no market maker can price me a dream, diminish value of my thoughts or hedge my future position – I know where I am going, the destination certain, the route is being worked on, the departure time uncertain

knowing what I have, why I have it and knowing its value matters; value doesn’t go up on a smile or down on a frown – value doesn’t blow away with the wind or float away with a rising tide; recognizing difference between what things are worth and what price we are prepared to pay – deserves reassessment from time to time; trading losses for learning is always painful, but failing to extract some learning from the lesson would seem like a double waste

facts move markets far less and more slowly than does emotion; sentiment can shift in less than an eye-blink; feeling safe, being secure, enjoying comfort – these are relative terms; what is something worth, what is its value, what price is too high, how low is too low?

discussion of worth and value cloud the horizon but authenticity doesn’t make headlines, rarely makes it to the front page; ‘being real’ or ‘being in the moment’ are ancient clichés in our nanosecond world

I don’t have much in the great scheme of wealth and finance, but I am fully invested; my financial statement is simple:
my assets; self worth
my income; all that comes my way
my gains; every day I live
my losses; what I am prepared to give up or leave behind and yesterdays I didn’t use
my worth; what I do with my life
my value proposition; an illusive pretty butterfly on the hand is worth holding steady for

I read something this morning that indicated yesterday was the final difficult day for those prone to feeling down in the short winter days, a turning point if you will; then I read this morning’s headlines and know it must be true for a lot of people who hope today will be brighter than yesterday

the value of life is not measured by what we have or had, not by what we wish for or want for, not by anyone’s measure but our own .. we own that and its value is solid, not to be bought or sold or hedged
Mark Kolke
338,844
197.2


... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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I try to add new experience to each moment as it arrives as a new slate, reminiscent of the Buddhist and Gestalt concept of mindfulness. But of course I live in the past in some ways, and in the future in others. There is something to starting a new week, if all of the previous week's work is done, I agree, but that's largely symbolic, EG, Calgary

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today's musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -17C/2F, clear, calm, cold; Gusta loves it, I’m not embracing it as much - layer upon layer, fleece over fleece, only keep me so warm; a third of the way through winter, this morning is a typical day; this cold will pass, spring will come, warmer times are ahead

‘as good as new’ must have been first written on a Monday because nothing is as good or as new as new is on a Monday

old paths, old ideas, old thinking – last week, last year . . are all far past now; content and composed, spread wide and waiting, my week stretches out in front of me like two lanes of new pavement wanting tires, knowing what the day or week will bring is always a mystery – no different than any other morning I suppose, but Monday brings so much promise

Monday’s start is always fresh no matter how Sunday went or ended, Monday is a slate swept clean . . . I see it way off in the distance, tomorrow will come but don’t let it come yet – let me stay in this day, a place where nothing new can be as new as a new week; I’ll keep my ideas in front of me, my waste by my side, my past behind me; each question will have its answer, each idea will have its place, each nuance will find its own place, like flowing water, I will find my own path

Mark Kolke
338,868
198.9

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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From Moses to Spartacus to Wilberforce to Lincoln to King, a procession of heroes who refused to accept slavery. But don't forget the smaller men in their trenches, hurling everything they have including their lives against it. We must raise our sights beyond the plane of our being, but this can be done in many ways, in our minds and souls, and this we can do whatever our station in life, EG, Calgary

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -21C/-6F, overcast and calm, the snow overnight was heavier, Gusta met a new friend, albeit through a fence, no doubt we’ll walk that alley again!

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

my adolescent life was affected by a media that showed me and by a family that let me watch; my values on race and rights were shaped by struggles of people I did not know far away from where I was – I could not then or now appreciate the difficulties faced, the pain inflicted, the hurt felt, the losses suffered – but I learned a little about having king-sized dreams

we read of and observe great transformations – from war to peace, from growth to recession, from feast to famine and back again; so often these large struggles populate history books as if their collective angst could ever be captured in a page or a paragraph or a chapter; on the eve of a holiday (in the U.S.) commemorating a man central to a period of such enormous change it seems odd to see such large achievement boiled down into a single day, but no more odd than seeing such accolades heaped on just one man when what changed as a result of the cause he lead for a time, was the result of a sea-change of attitude, albeit slowly, because of the collective work of hundreds of thousands of ordinary people who suffered more and longer, who saw less change rather than more, saw less glory and fewer opportunities than others – they were grist for the mill of history

when things are large, government and media and their audiences forget easily that large change is made so slowly in the lives of most ordinary people – people no one knows much about or every will

“One’s only rival is one’s own potentialities. One’s only failure is failing to live up to one’s own possibilities. In this sense, every man can be a king, and must therefore be treated like a king.” – Abraham Maslow

change, taking time to think about change, is beyond most people so absorbed by the challenges on their plate – so personalized by lives of those around them that taking on the challenges of the larger world, setting aside the needs of those close by in order to lay it on the line for the world, for history, for mankind – that is exceptional beyond description; it is the quality certainly that drives the Einstein’s, the Bethune’s and the Kings’s of our history books but it is the same motive – absolutely the same motive – of those who sign up, who go around the world to lay it on the line for somebody’s country in somebody’s war; some Kings change the world, some change their domain, some reign supreme, some walk, some sit; some just change themselves, a few do it all

Mark Kolke
338,892
198.2

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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The end of life, the great equalizer. I too saw Bucket List. The most poignant moment for me was the ending, where the ashes of both men were interred on the top of Mt. Everest. It signified an achievement neither one achieved, but had aspired to. I also found very interesting the discussions of the afterlife, or lack thereof. To have a bucket list I believe is a good idea, if only to hopefully satisfy ourselves on our deathbed, as well as to provide milestones of achievement as we go on in life. I don't have one (it would be unrealistically long), but have a pretty good idea how I want to spend the rest of my life. Make the challenges worthwhile pursuing! And at the end of it all, perhaps Sir Winston Churchill had something when he was asked on his 75th birthday if he was ready to meet his Maker. His reply was, "Yes, I'm ready. But is He ready to meet me?", EG, Calgary

...

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -8C/17F, several distant dog sightings, Gusta pulled hard as we walked down to the soccer fields and back; we tried to see paradise but it was obscured by light fluffy flakes falling – lots of them, I guess we did in a way

one day, I will die – that is certain; what I do between now and then is only predictable if I let it be predicable and, to be sure, I won’t let it be

reminders that unexpected consequences, fictionalized or imagined are not a fantasy present themselves every day – they are reality, a reality we choose to ignore most of the time because it is so much easier to think of those as ‘things that happen to other people’

artistically I don’t think it ranks, but for producing lots to think about, talk about and mull over, it gets full marks - last night’s movie, Bucket List; PB and I found it worthy time spent, clever, chockfullonuts, humor, coffee, tear provoking, thought provoking, entertaining, no classic but well acted, good writing, it touches issues most people find familiar so it’s financial success is assured

events happen – memories, character revelation, shared experiences, spontaneous moments – unpredictable, for the most part ‘expected’ things that ‘ought to have been expected’ – each with consequences, making my life my own movie; as I watch from the back row, opportunities to take the plot on different twisting routes appear at every moment of thought, present themselves every time there is a ‘here is something to react to’ moment; this afternoon will show up, as predicted, on time; the experience I will have is unpredictable, but not wholly accidental – like life, this afternoon will give me whatever I wring out of it

‘The best things in life are unexpected – because there are no expectations” – Eli Khamarov

I don’t disagree with Eli; but I would count my children, PB and Gusta as my greatest joys and each arrived as the consequences of planning, of being ready, of setting the stage for them to happen – but the moments – ah yes, the moments, they show up without warning; I cannot imagine a better way to have a better time finding a better way

Mark Kolke
338,916
196.4

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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I do believe that the more impossible a situation appears, the more glorious its solution is, if there is a solution (One's boat sinking in the middle of the ocean with no one knowing would not have a solution, for example) I'm not sure if everything is a message or not. There are those that say everything that happens happens for a reason. I'm not sure about that either. I believe that God, if he exists, DOES play dice with the cosmos. Quantum theory tells us that. But here we delve into philosophical discussion. Given a situation where the odds of A happening exactly equal the odds of B happening instead, what determines which will happen? I agree that many superior achievements in life are difficult, and should still be pursued, not because they are difficult, but because they are superior achievements, EG, Calgary

...

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -11C/13F, calm, fresh snow, Gusta sniffed for where yesterday’s yellow snow locations and was stymied at a crossroads of tracks – a rabbit convention no doubt, she’s now frolicking in the backyard, I’ve shoveled a driveway covered in three inches of global warming

to answer MJH’s query about the numbers at the bottom of daily musings; the first number is ‘hours left in my life’ and weight; I am sure the first number will hold true provided I keep reducing the second one . . as for wit, my harpoon as always ready, always sharp but not always required – sorry to hear you are hurting – mourning is like that

“We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations.” – Charles Swindoll

imagine for a moment. everything, and I mean everything, is a message; death is a message about life, life is a message about death, day is a message about night and so on; if there is value in that, what does a morning mean?

as sleep left me, in my mind I was walking down a beach, shore birds were tacking like little sails in the wind edging toward water, then up the sand to safer ground while a frothy surf washed everything clear, swept away all debris only to be back in a minute . . morning is like that; all the tribulations of yesterday swept away by the night, a new clean slate is brought about dawn

few things make a morning more worthy of the day that follows than a spring rain or a mid-winter fresh blanket of white that covers every spot of everything as it does this morning; ruts, blemishes and undulations all seem softer now – an unspoiled metaphor for the day we will each step into, walk around on and leave with our footprints all over it

if we keep our defenses up, those fences let nothing through; if we keep our defenses up we avoid pain, avoid despair, avoid time consuming involvement – we can avoid all the richness that comes with difficulty – but only when we let down that guard, push aside the fence and let things come in; all things that affect us - some make us laugh, some find us sobbing, few make us wish we avoided the experience

everything that happens could be nothing, or, everything could be an important message; I must go now, PB wants to make me late for work . . what could that message mean?

Mark Kolke
338,940
197.3

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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What I think about… Is this all there is? What am I supposed to be doing? How do I improve my quality of life? Most beliefs I used to have don’t matter any more. Everything truly is in vain. Buy food, buy clothes, look at interesting things. Stay warm, stay cool, stay in love. Ah, love. That sounds depressing, doesn’t it., JC, Houston, TX

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Don't know how I got on the mailing list, but I very much enjoy your perspective. It takes the burden off the rest of us to take time & reflect. "Forced reflection" if you will, reality magnified...amazing how the world looks different through each individual's eyes. Different yet surprisingly the same - the common thread that connects us all. Keep up the good work! , DM, St. Louis, MO

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i was just talking with KS and she mentioned that your Musings ceased coming to her and was wondering if you have taken her off the list....i explained that i was also having this difficulty and would mail her the internet site... http://markismusing.blogspot , pb, Calgary

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As I ponder : I believe that we are all born with a predetermined agenda. As parents(teachers) it is our job to to do what we think is right at the time.None of us ever had or never will have a crystal ball to show us the future out come. At the time we make the judgment we are not usually thinking of the impact of the consequences in the long term , but only of the moment. It is that 20/20 vision that causes us to see back ,then to judge the consequence ,as regret or accomplishment. When we do not live up to to our own expectations is when we create regret. We can all live in the "what if 's". "What ifs" are regrets of the past and fear of the future. Not a great place to be., LB, Calgary

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Hi Mark, While I don't believe we have actually met, I have been enjoying your 'Musings' for years now. Now that they are no longer there, I really miss them. Is it possible to get re-connected? thanks so much!, LS, Calgary

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I'm going to resend you a reply I came up with a few days ago, about mental functions, etc. I think it's still applicable. What interesting speculations you put forth. No rules or natural laws governing thought? There is a very interesting book out there, "The Quantum Brain: The Search for Freedom and the Next Generation of Man" by Jeffrey Satinover, psychiatrist and theoretical physicist, which hypothesizes that our neuropsychological processes, including thought, involve as yet poorly defined quantum mechanics. It makes for interesting reading. As for thinking the river to flow to us, that's telekinesis; I'm not sure if it can be done or not, but it makes for interesting story plots and stage and parlor tricks. And now to the sleep-wakefulness-consciousness question. Slipping into sleep from an awake state is subtle and often unexpected, so indeed Archimedes could have fallen asleep in his tub, and never discovered the simple method of calculating volume. And many others, at the edge of momentous discovery, could have fallen asleep or had their attention temporarily diverted and lost the final step forever. On the other hand, is the story true about Newton dozing under the tree when an apple fell on his head, leading to his theory of gravitation which held up until Einstein? It's interesting to speculate, EG, Calgary

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HI Mark - the aftershock of the death of the 56 year old Prof here at the U is still causing some tremors. Am grateful that I am detached and can still function clearly while supporting others. For some time now I've wondered why I've gone through so much in my life, and I'm coming to believe that maybe my lot in life is to be calm in the storm. It's become a pattern really. In terms of feedback, I've read a couple of pieces where I've wondered where you're going. Sometimes there is no message or direction and I get the impression you're writing for a release, or to find the answer to a question or feeling you're trying to figure out. Also, I don't understand what the numbers at the bottom of the musing page are....are they a reference of some sort. It looks biblical to me..? I do like the paragraphs about the morning walks with your dog. Dog's can teach you a lot about the simple things in life. They take pleasure in the senses such as you've written about. You have such a great wit....it's missing here, or I'm missing it some how. You asked....I'm feeding. Have a great day! MJH, Calgary

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Being of moderate 'sound mind' I am replying rather than using your full address. Hmmm...but even so hope it gets through. Enjoyed your musing and felt like I was walking in the snow instead of driving in it which I was doing today. It was very slippery and added to my scenic view from inside my little old Jetta. I had 2 1/2 wipers going to sweep away the miniature hail pits coming down. The 1/2 part was simply the rubber peeling off it's blade. Made an interesting pattern as it flipped and flopped aimlessly. Though I love walking when it is snowing I often find it makes me feel rather melancholy and sometimes lonely. Yet the air feels fresh and crispy and the world seems so clean and full of promise. The whiteness of the snow being packed down as it settles, like the newness of a new page to write on. My first letters straight and clear, and by the end of the page once again looking wobbly and unique! That's why I love typewriters of old, and better yet the beauty of computers. Computers, like magic write for you, don't you think? Turn it on, place my fingers on the keyboard and begin to compose whatever I like, and there it is! Sure I can go in and make corrections or changes but the essence of the message is already completed. So too with life. New beginnings of any kind enlarge our world and give us hope and promise. The experience begins with high expectations and hope of perfection in its completeness. Then, no matter how they turn out it is all experience added to our lives and really the core of our story was there all the time too. All we need at times are minor adjustments and adaptations to make this another new day, another new week, the newness of snowflake falling on our face, melting, and falling away. Yet always we will leave our footprints wherever we go and whatever we do, ED, ?

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©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

[note to readers about feedback - I circulate virtually all feedback that reaches me, but lately it seems firewalls and the like have caused a lot of ‘reply’ mail to not reach me –which means that if you have not seen publication of your response, that means I didn’t get it; please, if responding to musings, write to me directly at mark@markmusing.com rather than hitting ‘reply’ and hopefully they will get through]

1C/34F, light snow falling, steady north wind; Gusta’s fur rippled fullness spliced with wet sleet-like filling, the wetness of which we could only appreciate on our walk back around that moonscape-like lagoon, wind full-on stinging wet faces, it was fabulous

feed me, feed me back what you think – no need to give me pro or con on what I think or write about – tell me what you think about, what gets you up or gets you down; add a bit of you to my collection . . please

something is lacking; maybe it lurks in those feedback emails that haven’t been getting through, but I think it is something else; I used to say I loved it, but I hated it; I hated criticism, hated – yes, really hated – the barbs of the sharp tongued acerbic negation of what I had to say; I found that each person who dismissed me or ridiculed me got the fur on the back of my neck standing at attention

in time, with help, I learned to dismiss extreme types for the idiots they were – then, I learned to listen for sincere feedback-givers, the ones I began to thrive on were those who pointed out, often awkwardly or rudely, when I missed a point or overshot my target, those who call a spade a spade and better yet, those who call it an effing shovel; thriving on that – my tilting at windmills phase I suppose – until it seemed to not be as necessary as before

some of that I attribute to greater confidence in what I do, comfort in writing as if I was wearing a very old floppy comfy sweater – the comfort of knowing the boundaries are set only by my mental limitations; maybe what I miss is the sparring, different than sparking by a simple letter, the adding of a single r means the difference between a beating and practice . . the difference between sparing someone a brutal beating by helping them tone up, tune up and get ready for the real contest

there it is . . getting ready for the real contest - the real contest is not the match in a ring, competition on a stage, battle of wits or for survival – the real contest is to live more fully today than yesterday, or there is little point

I like these days best; Thursday, most often a day of high productivity without much chat, lots done without going out, without meetings, errands or frenetic rushes here or there – but not an aimless day, not a shirking day - these Thursdays arrive with early week urgency behind me, end of week panics still ahead; a day to spread my wings, work, agenda wide – very wide - day for time-taking, progress-savoring, a day for facing (literally) weather and looking both in and out to see whether things matter or not


Mark Kolke
338,964
197.5


... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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Enjoy reading your musings. Reminds me of a writer Annie Dillard. Keep up the brilliant observations. Thanks!, ED,?

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Speaking of life decisions, I've in my 72 years made a fair number, some active, some passive, and in many cases am not sure which process worked better. We went to see "The Bucket List" on the 14th which was my birthday. A bucket list is probably a good idea at my age, if there are things you want to do before you die, or may be, as my 29-year-old daughter commented, advisable even in her stage. Probably, as you say, life's choices are often subtle and not listed formally. Indeed, in many cases, we don't even know what is the most important to us until we've lost it, EG, Calgary

...

©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -17C/1F, clear, calm, moonless; Gusta prefers the romp across ice-patched lawns to padding bare numbing sidewalks around Lake Mead Green, a few lights on but most of the world was still sleeping

imagining life, as if watching it in movie form, I don’t want to know my ending but I want to influence it; whether changes happen by choice or by accident or some combo of the two, taking a step, then a next step, then another and then another is the best way to make the new way, sometimes bobbing, sometimes weaving . . learning quickest (not always best) by doing rather than watching, leaping off more cliffs, calmly walking through fewer doors – each next step may not change the world but it will change me, change my ending

numbing beyond recognition doesn’t change anything, it makes you numb; in the middle of the swirl, we see the spiral, we spend so much time trying to avoid being drawn down the centre that we forget how easy it is to climb out; change management is corporate cliché these days – as if some consultant invented it; change is inevitable; the world changes, we change, others change; if someone could invent a way not to change – that would be inventive, unique and worth talking about

bold choices, raw, audacious, outrageous choices have as much chance of changing the end of the movie as do ‘not making any choice at all’; I spoke with a friend yesterday who made a relationship choice – not boldly, not dramatically – calmly making a reasoned choice but she wondered out loud if this would destine her to a lonely solitary future or if, like I have found with PB, there is a marvelous partnering opportunity ahead of her

the choice, from where I sit, is obvious; if BIG decision was solitary, isolated, a one-of choice, it is likely to be reversed or flip-flopped like previous iterations until the fatigue of thinking about it makes her numb; conversely, if that choice is grand-child of a lot of little choices, of tangible issues, then a fabric is being woven whose strength is much greater than the individual strand strength tallied up

sometimes we need to weave it all behind by weaving a new future

Mark Kolke
338,988
197.3

... with your voice, teach in order to learn

What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -7C/19F, high winds (wind chill -17C), gusts of 60-90km/hr.; a definition of confusion would be a dog’s nose on a very windy day; Gusta deserves her name today

wind is fuel for sail

opportunity, not always knocking, sometimes floats on breeze like a butterfly - just as often it is zooming by at high speed and a flying tackle is required to haul it in

I am first hand witnesses – each day as I walk a windswept beach, climb this week’s mountain or cross a broad desert of barrenness, nothing is certain - winds of change, sands of time, tick of the clock - the way things are vs. the way I wish they are; if all the world’s a stage, what is my part, what are my lines, which direction should I go?

don’t fall off stage Mark, watch yourself - wind blows, rearranges things, nature’s doorstep sweeping; on life’s stage, we are all witnesses, all of us players, all of us audience watching ourselves – when I miss a clear connect with my audience falling flat is not failing; it is like the wind blowing by to the next town – some people get me, some don’t

when wind blows hard, like people, it is hard to be sure which way it is blowing; winds of change or just a windy day - either or both I suppose - figuring out the wind or figuring out people is the same - some bend you over, some just blow by – I choose what I haul in

yesterday was one of significant change for me, though no one else would know it; my table looks like papers were rearranged by a whirlwind but there was more upheaval than that – subtle changes in perspective, seeing some things for the first time, again

Mark Kolke
339,012
197.4

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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Thank you for including me in you Email list.. I am not a good writer and possibly a terrible typist but I silently enjoy you writings and did miss them when ... well my expectations... Thanks, AH, Edmonton, AB

...

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: 1C/34F, overcast, calm; black squirrels tag-a-long the top fence rail as we walked, Gusta couldn’t keep up as I expected - walking slow –as receding snow left so many more smells exposed than expected, each one needing to be examined thoroughly

I go through my day witnessing familiar things, I see each one as an expectation of mine or of someone else where I and I alone have bought into that issue, item or action - but I woke up this morning expecting something different - that IS what I expect; I’ve spent a lifetime creating expectations – I create expectations in myself, in others regarding what I might do or how I might react, in clients as to what I might do for them – and I create expectations in readers, expectations of what I might provide for them

expectations and reality come together in only one place – our minds; I’ve been wondering what constitutes ‘reasonable expectation’ vis-à-vis an ‘unreasonable one’; each day, week or month – I encounter expectations; theirs of me, mine of me, mine of them as I realize every demand on my time, every request for action, every element of what I do is the child or grandchild of something I’ve been complicit in creating – the expectation

we all know the answer (a question in itself) when we ponder why things did not work out the way we want: ‘well, what did you expect?’; that question, often used as a verbal harpoon, is dismissive or funny or both, but seriously ‘what did you expect?’ is the absolutely right question

walking into a store at closing time produces the ultimate in self-service – staff are lurking somewhere but we’ve come to expect nothing so we serve ourselves and consider it a happy shopping experience; Monday morning papers - not so thin because there is no news or because there are no advertisers; they are what we’ve come to expect which is not much of anything so we get nothing . . and, our expectations are met

my expectations of store staff or writers at a paper are really not important – my expectations of myself are what matters; my expectations of colleagues, clients, friends and family are simply figments of my imagination because I control them to the same degree – not one bit

each day I can have the kind of experience I choose to have, I expect

Mark Kolke
339, 036
198.8

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

3C/37F, brilliant sunshine, calm, no one else out walking – Gusta uncharacteristically calm, snow cover shrinking away

PB and I hosted a birthday party yesterday – dogs, cats, children, hot dogs and burgers – group dynamics of her family tumble in my head; they’ve welcomed me – not in, but to the edge, mingling, not merged

communities grow near where the water flows; it would seem ridiculous to sit in a flat empty place ‘thinking the river into flowing to us’, though some scientist probably explored the notion; ideas can flow better than water because there are no rules or natural laws governing thought

edge moves, shore stays behind – I wonder if I am flowing or staying behind; spot in time, these edges touch as sleep/wake tension hovers - feelings flow as imagination leaks from awake-ness to daydream; in that second when consciousness takes me to the other side, thinking – then dozing, thoughts ease into dream language and back again, conscious slips, arms relax; muscles limp, let go

early morn at the edge of a moment, hovering over waiting for something to happen – sitting in the dark as if watching an abscissa on a full water glass; each drop added makes the heart beat, anticipation of flow that follows - drifting in … drifting out… then back again

that moment when one more thought – so precious – when one more thought is the margin between sleep-drift and conscious flow; I often wonder, if Archimedes had fallen asleep in the tub, would he have developed his theories on displacement?

at the edge, near the flow – on the edge of thought, the abscissa of reason, the place where roll is just a hair away from roll-over, where sleep and sleepy touch fingertips, I move from comfort in reality to imaginary worlds where comfort, or not, is not certain, a place where my mind walks without a body, my conscious self and limp arms left behind

Mark Kolke
339,060
198.2

... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -5C/23F, calm, clear, sunny – Gusta found someone’s discarded bone of interest, the school yard guarding rabbits were oddly absent

I would be afraid to ‘not hear or see or walk or speak’ but since I consider those things highly unlikely to occur, I am not afraid of them; we all lose our seeing and hearing to some degree but we have treatment and device solutions so I don’t need to be afraid of those; these are not fears for me, but an acceptance of reality

I’ve written about my notion of calling out fear the way we call out a bully; about naming it, writing it down, pointing it out; false fears, ‘used to be’ fears, I’ve confronted aren’t spooky any longer - not gone but the process of eliminating them is underway; fear of being irrelevant, fear of being incapable of expression, fear of being unable to express joy – these have been fears but they are not fears anymore; they are issues about which I need to be vigilant, but they don’t scare me

a ringing phone in the middle of the night scares me, a blank white page at the end of a day indicating I’d not lived it fully scares me, reaching out to help someone and failing at it scares me; there was a time when daunting fears were things I hungered for – thirsted fro - an appetite for quality of life - some are continuing complex challenges, but letting go of fear about them has been light for the path I follow; when I want to turn in a new direction there appears to be light on it, albeit faint sometimes, but it seems to be going my way; each time I say YES or NO I wonder if I saying that because I fear the contrary or if it is simply the better choice – that is my conundrum, I am afraid these fears are personal

“He who is not every day conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I don’t buy it; I think Ralph was wrong; he does, however, point up the need to address fear and that failing to address it can be life-limiting folly; fear can be a dark cold place, like a freezer where nothing grows, light doesn’t shine, nothing moves; fear is not natural – it is learned, it is taught, it is ingrained in us – and if it is learned, it can un-learned whether it is something to overcome or something to un-learn; fear of success, fear of failure, fear of loss, the list goes on and on

I know people who ‘fear being along’; I have been alone – but I don’t fear being alone again; having said that, I could say I ‘fear loss of my butterfly as I hope she fear loss of me’ but that’s a silly notion of using the word fear instead of ‘wishing something won’t happen’; these easy ‘toss-off’ fears distract, they are general ‘easy to talk about ones’; fear of the loss of loved ones, fear loss of life or limb, fear loss of safety, fear of chaos in our country, fear a lack of food, clothing, shelter – group fears I suppose, things most of us have in common but I wonder if fear is the right descriptor when concern fits better

we come to this world afraid of nothing; sure, we begin with a need to be warm, fed, dry and held and we scream pretty loud to get it – but in time we are taught to ‘not scream’, we learn that we needn’t fear being dropped on our head or left without food, clothing or shelter . . but in tandem with that we learn to fear things; fear becomes a big word, a big basket that catches all; I don’t think learning that cars hit unwary pedestrians and stove burners singe flesh is appropriate to put in the ‘fear basket’ because I don’t think they belong in the same vessel as ‘fear of trying’ or ‘fear of crying’; I don’t think they belong in the same discussion as ‘fear of failing’ or ‘fear of letting go’; letting go of fear, or of things we use fear words for – words like afraid, scared, agitation, anxiety, imminent danger, disquiet, apprehension, extreme awe, dread, fright, terror, panic, alarm, trepidation – fear can be un-learned, can it not?

Mark Kolke
339,084
196.2

... with your voice, teach in order to learn

One of the most interesting people I know was the late Henry Viscardi. He was born with twisted legs and spent much of his early life in hospitals before his feet were eventually amputated. Eleanor Roosevelt heard of him and convinced FDR to hire him to work with WWII veterans with amputations. After a successful tour of duty in Washington he went back to NYC but was not interested in returning to Wall Street. He was written up in the home town paper and a young man who had no hands called him saying that since he could not find a job he was thinking of killing himself. Henry said, "No I will hire you come to work Monday morning." Of course, Henry did not have a job himself but with that he opened up Abilities Inc. that went on to become a major electronic company that hired disabled people. Henry loved to say you should think of six impossible things to do before breakfast each day. Henry was married, had children and successful worldwide in developing employment programs and schools for disabled people. Henry was in his nineties when he died. My father had only one leg but was an insurance company executive. There was a man who was no more disabled than my father who sold pencils on the skyscraper steps where my father had a pent house office. I often wondered why one man does as Henry did and another fails to grab the wheels of life. The pencil salesman lived in a shanty under the bridge and died a wealthy man because he learned to invest wisely. but there was no one to leave his fortune to. Why?, FW, Stafford, VA

...

©2003 - 2008 MaxComm Communications, all rights reserved.

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -11C/9F, a single star lit a moonless sky, we walked by the lagoon – it looks like moonscape from freeze/thaw and critter traffic

risk and fear may not be siblings, but they are closely related; I believe our drive to conquer a problem, reach a goal or experience an adventure is not so much about the challenge of the moment, but a surface ‘risk’ symptom of a deeper fear

“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.”- Sir Edmund Hillary (he died yesterday)

I don’t know what Hillary feared - but it certainly wasn’t a tall mountain; not everyone needs a Grand Canyon to cross or an Everest to climb to be challenged, to take risk or to achieve something - climbing the highest peak or crossing the widest canyon cannot match the challenges many of us face in our daily lives nor could the exhilaration match the elation of overcoming an immovable force that limits someone’s ability to function whether it be a babe standing to walk for the first time or someone re-learning how to function when health altered their ability to accomplish what so many of us take for granted

at a meeting last night we talked about risk – discussing personal experiences, attitude and fear; the underlying point being that life and every element of it carries risk whether we want to address it or not; if the risks of folly are about the same whether we sit on the sidelines or jump into the fray, why not leap?

try this: make a list of the three things you are most afraid of – tape it to a wall or your computer screen or the bathroom mirror; just three things, then – describe out loud what risk you need to take to conquer those fears

leap over a fear - go over the edge, off the cliff . . or to some small peak across the room; fear leaping will never become an Olympic sport, but it can take us over our largest obstacles to the greatest heights

Mark Kolke
339,108
195.5


... with your voice, teach in order to learn


What do you think? Join the discussion - your comments are welcomed - please write.

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