Free Thinker - Random Musings

Encountering an Army of Buddha

2012-02-01T04:20:00.000-08:00

Seeing Mount Everest. What an intriguing thought.

In 1985 a fellow cameraman and colleague at the CBC asked if I’d like to join him as he was filming the Sherpers and guides of the high mountains in Nepal. It took just two seconds for me to jump at the chance to tag along. Four of us went, but the others weren’t able to leave as early as me. So, I traveled on ahead.

Before I left Canada, I learned of an outbreak of meningitis in the Kathmandu Valley. Meningitis is an extremely deadly disease, so protection is essential. I first phoned the Canadian health travel clinic, but they had no vaccine. They suggested I find a clinic in Kathmandu, or perhaps I could try the British National Health in London en route. I then phoned a London clinic and spoke to a doctor who immediately ridiculed me about, not only the urgency, but the validity of my request. He told me that they didn’t have the vaccine and I probably wouldn’t need it, but if I really wanted to have my arm stuck with a needle, I could probably find a clinic in some backstreet in Kathmandu. I couldn’t imagine that the British Health System hadn’t heard about the deaths involved in this outbreak; or perhaps it was just this rude doctor. To my mind, it’s a serious flaw to be so flippant and cavalier about such a deadly disease and the health risks involved, especially with travelers.

My first afternoon in Kathmandu was spent treading the streets, looking to find a clinic, or at least somewhere I could get medical information. The clerks at the hotel desk weren’t very well informed, so I was out on my own into the excitement and confusion of this bustling Himalayan Capital; the life, the colour, the people, the circus, the posters. Yes, I saw a poster, in English, that told of a mass immunization at 7 am the next morning. Decision made ... show up.

Kathmandu at dawn is mystical. The atmosphere is quietly strange as the morning haze slowly dissipates from the waking city. Then a thin, brown dust permeates the air. Pollution, sand maybe? I was following a city map bought the previous day, exploring the narrow and colourful streets being carefully swept for the bustle ahead. Sweet smells of Indian spice graced the air as shopkeepers uncovered and displayed their aromatic wares. The trinket sellers were spreading blankets to hold depictions of Buddha, Lord Krishna, Shiva and all the other gods, prophets and icons for sale. Here I was in the capital of Nepal, trekking down the street for an injection, on my way to an address I had only read on a poster. This was the last type of adventure I could have envisioned on my first full day in Kathmandu; but exciting it was.

Streets began to populate, and I noticed groups of Buddhist Monks robed in their dark red/burgundy/orange colours passing by, heading my way. Probably on their way to a temple for morning meditation, I presumed. But as I neared the address of the clinic and rounded a corner, my gaze was drawn to what looked like a large unpaved, gravel parking lot teeming with an undulating throng of shaved heads and Buddhist robes. It was like the army of Buddha descending in one place. There were hundreds. I had never seen so many monks before. Perhaps a conference, I thought, as I looked for the address. But this was it, the place for my 7 am meningitis vaccine. It didn’t look like a clinic, more like a cattle call in the movie industry.

Slowly, I snaked my way through and around chatting groupings of gathered monks, over to a section where I could ask if this indeed was the place.

“With the monks,” came the reply. “Line up with the monks.”

I walked to the end of the line, but it wasn’t long before I was surrounded, bathed in a sea of dark red/burgundy/orange, and organized chaos. These were the holy men of the Himalayas, the followers of Buddha and perhaps the Dalai Lama. They were delightful and courteous people with smiling faces, gentle dispositions and early morning yawns. There weren’t any other westerners, so I stood at least four or five inches taller than most of their shiny, bald heads. In the cool morning it was a shiver of excitement, an atmosphere like a scene from an epic movie.

One young monk spoke to me in very broken English. He told me of their week-long trek, down from the high mountains to get vaccinated. After the needle, they were headed back to the mountains. A head monk (Abbot or a High Lama) who was way over at the front of the line, noticed me among his brethren and asked his team to guide me to him. I slid slowly past the obliging men and thanked them as I walked to where he stood.

“You first,” he said.

He was being polite, letting me go ahead of his multitude. But one thought did occur to me. Was I the guinea pig? I confirmed that this was indeed for the meningitis shot and I asked how much I needed to pay.

“No no,” he said. “It’s free.”

Then it was my turn. A clean swab, a new needle, a sharp jab; the medicine was administered, an adhesive bandage was stuck over my wound, and it was all over. We exchanged pleasantries, I bowed in thanks and I was on my way, passing even more monks who had gathered. I stopped to wave goodbye to all my new found friends, and in a flash I was back in the early morning traffic of Kathmandu.

It was as if I had been touched in a most profound, yet very human way. I strolled back to my hotel and fell into peaceful slumber, as if bathed in a spiritual glow.

A few days later, the others in my party arrived, and I told them of my experience. But they all declined the vaccine. Then, we were off to the high Himalayas for an adventure of a lifetime.

Travel really does bring cultures together, in turn we get to understand that others are just like us. Life really is filled with wonderful, unforeseen moments. This is one I shall always cherish.

Quotes:
“All the world's a stage.”
- William Shakespeare

“All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.”
- Alfred Lord Tennyson

“There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence is immensely heightened.”
- Charles Baudelaire

“You cannot create experience. You must undergo it.”
- Albert Camus

“We can live without religion and meditation, but we cannot survive without human affection.”
- Dalai Lama

“There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town, There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And theYellow God forever gazes down.”
- J Milton Hayes - The Green Eye of theYellow God

Patriotic Song

2012-01-12T21:20:00.000-08:00

Remember during the film “Casablanca,” when in the bar, a small detachment of German soldiers were singing their patriotic song and Victor Laszlo, the freedom fighter, went and asked the band to play “La Marseillaise,” the French national anthem? Everyone stood and sang with gusto and conviction. What a truly poignant moment, yet patriotic, telling the world they disagreed with the Nazis. Subsequently, the loud singing drowned out the German song completely.

As audience members, we all became French for that brief moment because we all knew the Nazis needed to be defeated.

I've been a witness to many moments much like that, but one stands out. It happened while on assignment in Cypress. It wasn’t about the Nazis, but it was about a patriotic song. I was an assistant cameraman working for the CBC, filming “The Canadian Armed Forces Review,” a traveling road show put together to entertain the Canadian peacekeeping troops at Christmas. We went to Germany, Egypt, Israel and Cypress. In each place we filmed entertainers showing their artistic prowess, and the troops loved the show. Germany was the cleanest place I’ve ever seen. In Egypt, we climbed up inside the great pyramid on Christmas day. And Israel was an inspiration. But filming in the no-mans-land of the Golan Heights had been mentally draining. We all needed some rest.

We had recently arrived in Nicosia, the Capital of Cypress, from Tel Aviv, on a bumpy, Canadian-forces, troop-carrying, Hercules aircraft. The entertainers had just completed their first Cypress show and we had finished a day of filming. About thirty of us, entertainers and film crew, were relaxing in a local restaurant with our Greek Cypriot helpers. We were eating a fabulous, multi-course meal of Cypriot food, drinking the local grog, and chatting and merry-making with our new found friends and colleagues at separate tables spread around the establishment. In the background, I could hear melodies of Greek Cypriot songs playing through the speakers in the ceiling.

At some moment during the evening, the never-ending drone and beat of one of the Cypriot songs became the beat for someone to quietly start singing “O Canada.” Perhaps it was the booze starting to get to the entertainers, but the song quietly gained momentum and took on a life of its own. Then, raucous exuberance spread throughout the restaurant. People were standing on chairs and tables singing from the top of their lungs. I stood up and joined in. It was a stirring moment. You didn’t even have to be Canadian to be caught up. Some weren’t. Others just stared in amazement. Most were smiling and glowing hearts were beating. The crowd mentality was at its zenith. I had never seen Canadians so ... patriotic.

Then it stopped. We sank back into our conversational mode and resumed where we had left off. The flamboyant displays of emotion had gone, but for the drying of the eyes.

One of our Cypriot helpers leaned forward and asked, “What was that song?”
“O Canada.” I said, “Canada’s national anthem.”
“Ah,” he replied politely.

View the Casablanca scene on YouTube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W31v-uqy70c&feature=fvst

View O Canada on YouTube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnSyq_DJN0c&feature=related

Quotes:
"Patriotism... is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime."

-Adlai Stevenson

"You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die."
- Victor Laszlo (Casablanca)

Three Good Memories of 2011

2011-12-30T14:28:00.000-08:00

During a recent conversation I was asked to name three personal stand-out memories of 2011. While I could easily talk about two highly inspirational moments, I was a little hesitant about the third. You'll see what I mean as you read.

We were busy in 2011; our Roman holiday, my step-son’s graduation in Los Angeles, a romantic weekend in Seattle, another at a rustic resort on Vancouver Island, a visit with my sick mother in Toronto, the memorable stage productions from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice to Wagner’s ring cycle, a modern ballet and a church choir. Then, our disruptive move, my college grades and the memorable small film I produced at the Olympic luge run in Whistler. There were plenty more, but three was the target number. Here are my three:

Memory One
While on a much-needed, two-week, April vacation in Rome, we got to know the city well. It’s an exceptional city, with antiquity and bustling street life in abundance. But the highlight presented itself during the last half hour of the Vatican tour. We had snaked our way through the fascinating, yet endless museum of religious and Roman artifacts, the delightful and crowded Sistine chapel and we spent lots of time viewing the gigantic main Basilica and Michelangelo’s Pieta. But, as we were about to leave, I noticed a sign outside pointing up. “Cupola.” We looked at our watches and realized we had just enough time left on the Vatican tour before we were closed out, or perhaps locked in.

Running down the alley beside the Basilica, we were stopped at a booth where we had to pay to ascend an old elevator to the top of the building. At the top we entered what, at first, looked like a large room, but it was actually a round balcony that circumnavigated the base of the dome itself, overlooking the main alter of the Basilica many feet below. As we moved toward the railing, spectacular sights unfolded, both up and down. From way above we were looking down onto the high altar where, below the marble floor, the bones of St. Peter lay in a crypt. Here at the alter, a multitude of Popes had reached up to high heaven to pray to their Lord; up to where we were, and above. I looked up at the awesome dome; it was like a giant crown over our heads. Michelangelo had designed, built and worked on this dome until his death in 1564. This was his last masterpiece. It was covered with exquisite paintings of biblical scenes and artwork leading to the top, and into the cupola. We slowly walked around the balcony railing, taking in the vast building, until we were stopped by a door to the outside.

The door opened onto the roof of the Basilica, looking toward the front of the roof, and to the row of Saints who peered down onto St. Peter’s square. We were poised behind them, almost like sneaking backstage to watch performers taking their bow onto the world stage. We were then quickly hustled to a small flight of steps sandwiched between the outside and the inside of the dome, like two domes, one inside the other, separated by a staircase. Here, we ascended, spiraling around the narrow slanted steps that wound up to the cupola.

It’s a massive dome and a good climb up the narrow passageway. Like climbing a claustrophobic, interior mountain, the old worn steps wound up the well trodden staircase that threads around the darkly lit dome. We stopped occasionally at one of the many slanted windows and glanced down on the incomplete panorama of Rome. Here we gained a sense of just how far we had climbed. Then, there was more; marble step after marble step. Some sections were easier to climb, but there was a constant echo of others climbing behind, some catching up and passing, while others were to be passed. At one point, the steps got wider, but then narrowed down to barely a body width. We reached the cupola and were ejected into the light of day.

On the crown of Rome, we reached the peak of Christendom: The cherry on top of the worldwide Catholic church.

Late afternoon cast a gentle glow around the city. We edged our way, shoulder to shoulder, around the small cupola portico. Spectacular panoramic views of Rome lay before us. Surveying Rome was a thrill, but looking down on St. Peter’s and the Vatican gardens, I realized that this was a country in itself; 0.2 square miles of the smallest country on earth.

The thrill, I would imagine, would be like climbing to the top of Mount Everest. There’s a euphoria in having done it. And a special feeling of just being there.

Memory Two
Just before Christmas, we were invited to attend Christchurch Cathedral in Downtown Vancouver to hear the Vancouver Bach Choir singing songs of Christmas. The edifice is small on a world-scale of Cathedrals, but the acoustics are ripe with the refurbished wooden alter, pews and floor, which resonate with musical sounds. The whole church is much like a music box itself.

Over time, the various religions have spurred on some of the greatest art mankind has ever known; sculpture, paintings, frescos, stain-glass, architecture, literature, plays, movies, music and more. And to me, there is nothing that brings better emotions than a choir of beautiful voices singing magical music from the great composers. The religions had their marketing skills aimed at bringing in crowds via an artistic direction, and they did it well. There is one story that tells about Viennese classical composer Franz Schubert, who was noticeably delinquent in his church attendance. They were going to excommunicate him, but he wrote a song that was instrumental in attracting hundreds of new church goers and possible converts. They forgave him, and that piece of music was “Ava Maria,” one of the finest songs ever written. It remains one of the primary songs that every choir uses in their reparatory.

We entered the church that Advent Sunday and sat beside our friends in an area they had saved, at the front side of the main alter. They were not seats we would have chosen, but they turned out the be the best in the house. At one point during the singing, the choir left their benches near the organ and toured the church, enthralling us with madrigals, melodies and a wonderful rendition of “Ava Maria.” Then, they walked toward us, and around the back of where we were seated. The choir master stopped and set up his music stand immediately in front of us. The baton was raised and the song, “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming,” by Michael Pratorius, sprung from the voices behind. The experience was of revery, of being so totally immersed in this musical art form, the composer, the conductor, the church acoustics and each individual choir member melded into one. Like all arts, music takes on a life of its own, voices become song and song filters through our consciousness and senses to become at one with our imagination and our mind. The music itself hangs in midair and envelops the soul.

I was in musical heaven. This was the perfect harmony of surround-sound in all its glory. Had the choir been in front of us, perhaps the experience wouldn’t have been quite so magical. But from behind, I could hear individual singers, their tones and nuances. My mind floated between meditation and the conductor’s baton as I sailed through a place that had no space and time, but was filled with this beautiful music.

Listen to a wonderful rendition of “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOaFgHou0Ro&feature=fvwrel

Memory Three
This memory is difficult to write about because I don't wish my thoughts to be taken as a boast or a brag, but as an inspiration to others.

I recently enrolled in college to learn how to teach and to attain a diploma for instructing adults. This is for my proposed course in creativity and innovation. I attended Vancouver Community College's teaching course which had six, one-week classes. Some of them had another week of extensive homework for each class to complete the assignments. To graduate, a practicum/capstone project must also be completed. This was a difficult course, but fortunately I was able to spread the classes throughout the year.

My focus was not in achieving the highest grades, as I had never been one of the top mark earners at school, those many years ago. My plan was to learn as much as I could by enjoying the process, watching the instructors’ performing abilities and gaining as much knowledge as I could to start my own adult course.

Class One put me in the mindset of how difficult the whole course was going to be. It took in the process and mapped out the road for a curriculum. And while the class studies were quite doable, the assignments were complicated and time consuming.

Each class had its difficulties, some were instructor driven while others were learner driven. The class I liked the best was the second course where I had to teach three, ten-minute classes. I chose different styles and levels of teaching and learning. For me, it was about performance art and being able to put across a succinct subject. I also learned a great deal about the learner’s capacity and retention.

Other classes were about styles of learning and styles of teaching, and the last class was an instructor-driven, fascinating and funny lecture about the way the brain works and learns. With each course the homework assignments were extensive. However, this last class was the easiest for me. The assignments demanded simple answers to simple questions. But, I tried to make each answer creatively different.

A college grade of 100% is just about unattainable, but somehow I managed to touch gold. My classes scores; Class one: A- (90%), Class two: A+ (99%), Class three: A (95%), Class four: B+ (89%), Class five: A+ (97.5%), Class six: A+ (100%).

I was totally in awe of these high marks: Something I never thought I would achieve.

Telling this story is not about gloating in the arrogance of winning. As with the course I intend to teach, it’s about inspiring the many who, like me, may not have excelled at school. School takes dedication to learn, comprehend and concentrate, and if you can’t grasp what the instructor is teaching, you must ASK and persist, until you learn. Many learners are shy and afraid of being ridiculed, but teachers are there to help, and will help when asked. One thing that helped me, I was fascinated with the subject and I spent much more time on home-work than usual. I really wanted to learn and I made sure I did.

Joy in learning and curiosity is a wonderful way of gaining the knowledge of the world. And that puts us on a path to wisdom.

I have written about just three memories but there are so many more. Yet, we tend to forget them. Write them down in a diary, a notebook or a journal to help you remember, then share and inspire others. Because it is through our memories that knowledge gets passed around the world.

QUOTES:
“It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?”

~Lord Byron

"Our memories are the only paradise from which we can never be expelled."
- Jean Paul Richter

The Journey to Shangri-La

2011-12-16T22:07:00.000-08:00

Once while trekking through the Himalaya Mountains I thought I had found Shangri-La.

It was high in the Mount Everest region of Nepal, at a wonderful lookout called Gokyo Ri, with a spectacular panoramic view of the surrounding majestic mountains, including Everest towering high over everything. This truly was the top of the world. And just over those mountains was Tibet.

I was looking down on the largest glacier in Nepal, and a few of the mountain passes that wandered through and around these high monuments to Earth’s great upheaval. On my detailed area map I saw that each mountain pass had the word “la,” a Tibetan word meaning “pass.” One of them, not too far from my location, was called Changra-La. "Sounds like Shangri-La," I thought. "Wonder if this could be ... ?" I asked one of the local guides if there was a village or a green valley situated there. “Sorry,” he said, “just an icy pass over a glacier. No one could live there.”

I’m not sure how author James Hilton found the name Shangri-La for the mythical, utopian valley in his novel and film Lost Horizon, but these mountains were teaming with la’s. Through the years, many people have contemplated where his inspiration came from. Some say that he was working with the Tibetan word Shambhala, meaning “pure land” and a utopian legend of a society of worldly wisdom set in Tibet. He was also said to have been inspired by the National Geographic travels of Australian/American explorer Joseph Rock who wrote of the peaceful Buddhist monasteries set in lush, green valleys among high, snow-caped mountains.

Whatever the origin, Lost Horizon and the mythical mountain kingdom of Shangri-La has been a public fantasy for many years. It’s a place of dreams and yearnings, a peaceful place set amongst the snowcapped mountains with a calm civilization of intelligent disposition. A utopian society that has seeped into western culture as an escape from the tense, dangerous, industrialized, polluted world we live in.

The next time Shangri-La came to mind was on a visit to the Ojai Valley in Southern California. Someone told me that the film-makers had used the valley as the location of the mythical Shangri-La in the 1937 film, Lost Horizon.

Recently, I watched an episode in the 2005 PBS TV series called, “In Search of Myths and Heros - Shangri-La,” presented by historian Michael Wood. Wood follows in the footsteps of the 17th century Portuguese Jesuit priest and explorer Antonio de Andrade on his search for the mythical kingdom of Shambhala. Andrade had heard of this sacred place of peaceful worship and worldly wisdom at the top of the world, and he trekked through treacherous mountain terrain to get there. Wood explained that Shambhala and Shangri-La could be one-and-the-same. The legend of Shambhala tells of a mythical place where a line of enlightened kings guarded the highest of worldly wisdom. Wood’s hypotheses was that the ancient Western Tibetan kingdom of Guge and its fortress capital city Tsaparang, where Andrade ended up, was Shambhala, and perhaps Shangri-La.

There have been many books written and TV shows produced about the quest for Shangri-La. I would highly recommend reading, "Shangri-La - A Travel Guide to the Himalayan Dream" by Michael Buckley. Here Buckley lays out many paths you could take if you wanted to go trekking and searching for yourself. It's a wonderful read on the subject of Shangri-La, if you go or not. There's also a TV series that I recently found that follows English actress Sue Johnston on her quest to find Shangri-La in China, and there she visits Joseph Rock’s home/museum. Apparently Rock’s idea of a worldly paradise was situated in a lush green valley under the sacred mountain Kawa Karpo in the south-east corner of Tibet next to China’s Yunnan province. “This,” Johnston says, “is her Shangri-La.”

There are many places claiming to be Shangri-La, but the real place is still an enigma. Many claim to know, but all are different. Even author James Hilton was coy as to where his Shangri-La was located: Probably in his own imagination. However, whether Shangri-La is a real place or not, it’s a place that is now set deep within all our imaginations. Could it be that we just love the adventurous thought of a Shangri-La? Somewhere where we have to trek across the world to the farthest reaches of humanity, into the highest mountains to find an exotic and hidden value of everything good.

Sue Johnston’s TV program was not just about the physical journey, it was about a mental/spiritual journey of transformation; a search for inner peace. And that, I think, is the essence of our yearnings to find Shangri-La. Shangri-La is more of a concept than a real place, a utopia within our own hearts and grasp. If we could only make the journey inward to find it.

What are we are looking for? What makes the myth and the magic of something like Shangri-La call to us? How do we know that when we arrive we will be happy? Do happy endings only happen in stories? What will make us inspired? These questions have been asked for thousands of years. Even the Buddha and Jesus tried to answer them by advising us to look inside ourselves to find true happiness.

If it’s heaven we’re looking for, most of us have a vastly different concept of what heaven is. For some, heaven is reclining on a cloud listening to harp music played by angels. Others may like a dark, gothic existence filled with black leather, gratuitous sex and heavy metal music. The concept of heaven on earth could be conceived, but perhaps we have it already?

The myth of Shangri-La is supposed to be an elusive place of worldly wisdom, good government, tranquility, green pastures and flowers. So from a practical sense, this can be found in most countries today. I live in Vancouver, Canada, and what could be more like Shangri-La than Vancouver? It is situated on a beautiful ocean inlet and sheltered from the wild Pacific by Vancouver Island. It is beside snow-capped mountains and fertile, lush, green fields. Good food is plentiful. There is peace, relatively good government and worldly wisdom that can be found in abundance in libraries, the Internet and a multitude of intellectual, secular and religious pursuits. There is also a wealth of spiritual wisdom from the local indigenous people and a total connection with the profound beauty of nature. What more could one ask? There is even a semblance of sentience and reason. Is this heaven on earth?

Other cities have great attributes too; parks, theatres, waterfronts, downtown living, good shopping, abundant food choices, libraries, art galleries, etc. And many of these places we can visit to see for ourselves; San Francisco, Paris, Copenhagen, Sydney, Hong Kong. But while it seems that in this time of civilization we have so much on our doorsteps, we are still not satisfied. Which makes me wonder, perhaps it’s the great intention for some members of the human race never to be satisfied. While we all search for happiness, we seem to have an almost maniacal addiction to unhappiness. And if a place like Shangri-La was ever found, would people really be happy to see it? Perhaps it would have become too run down and dirty, or maybe a tourist trap like Disneyland or surrounded with airports and superhighways, thus compelling some people to retreat in total dissatisfaction and more unhappiness.

At the moment, for some, Shangri-La is still an enigma. It’s a pie in the sky, an untouchable dream. And that’s good.

For the many who dream of greater communities, few will actually travel to the ends of the earth in a search of an earthly paradise or treasure. Some may find their treasure nearer to their home. There is a wonderful novel called The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, where a young man from Spain goes on a long trek through many countries in North Africa to find treasure in Egypt. The story is about the wonderful adventures he has along the way, but the treasure he is looking for remains illusive. He eventually finds his treasure in his own back yard in Spain. The question is, could he have found it if he hadn’t experienced the journey and the adventure of the trek? This book was the number one best seller in the world, so it seems that even reading about an adventure is the adventure.

How many understand that the journey itself is the goal? In someways we learn so much more from getting there than we do from arriving. For me, a world without travel and journey would be a human tragedy. There’s a great quote from an ancient who said, “Those who travel, know.” So, is the discomfort of climbing over the objects on our way to our goal the real learning?

What is life but a series of moments and journeys, sometime difficult, that we must learn to enjoy. And that’s the key. We must learn to enjoy the things that get in our way and discomfort us. The last place on earth I ever wanted to visit was India. I had seen the poverty on TV and read about it. I just didn’t want to experience it. But in hindsight, India was one of the richest experiences of my life. It thrilled me, but it also humbled me. It beat me down. But the experience helped me to become more alive. I saw the poverty firsthand and I said to myself, if these people could experience such terrible poverty, then who am I to find discomfort in the rain, in the cold, in the heat, in the crowded shopping malls, in a misspoken word?

“When I had nothing to lose, I had everything. When I stopped being who I am, I found myself.”

- Paulo Coelho.

How we experience the thrill and the magic of life is our own business. But so many lose the magic and the thrill by only seeing the discomfort. So when the distraction and the myth of Shangri-La is presented, we jump at it. Just like the comfort and the intimacy of a religion.

We live in two worlds. The world of perceived reality: the now, the body, science, time, space, things, the five senses, pain, consciousness, philosophy, facts, patterns, math, reason. We also live in the world of the spirit where time and space does not exist. i.e. dreams, thoughts of yesterday, hopes of tomorrow, meaning, purpose, intuition, creativity, knowing, sub-consciousness thoughts, ideas, love, hate, understanding, the psyche, spirituality, sentience.

There are plenty of ways to find our true selves, yet so many of us spend our lives searching, yearning for something other than that which is within. Outside we continue with our misadventures, moods swings, anger at the little things our egos and selfishness destroy. The world doesn’t seem to matter outside of our own perceived discomfort and disconnect. We hate the rain, the cold, the jackhammer down the street; we find discontent in many things that are good. We pollute and contribute to the great degradation of the planet that gives us life. Still, we dream of a utopia.

If we found the real Shangri-La, would we look after it? The answer is “no.” The one and best Shangri-La we all have is the Garden of Eden we live on: Planet Earth. How have we looked after it? Yes, I mean us; you and me. We are all in this together. We all have a voice. Yet, who among us speaks for Earth? Our utopia.

Very few.

Surely we can all put our minds together to stop the polluters and the people who desecrate our very own Shangri-La in such a devastating way. It is time for us to wake up and clean the planet, the Earth, our home, or soon the Earth is going to wipe us off its face with a shudder, forever.

This holiday season remember where “Peace on Earth” and “Goodwill to all” really is.

And do something about it.

Research:
Watch Michael Wood's "In Search of Myths and Heros - Shangri La"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQ2fjSUEFVo

Quotes:
“If we have not found the heaven within, we have not found the heaven without.”

- James Hilton

“Who looks outside, dreams; Who looks inside, awakens.”

- Carl Jung

“A horizon is something toward which we move, but it’s also something that moves us along.”

- Hans-George Gadamer - Truth and Method

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”

- Mother Teresa

The Window Seat

2011-12-01T07:32:00.000-08:00

Almost every time I’ve traveled by airplane in the past forty years, which is many, I’ve aimed myself at the window seat. When I board a plane I want to know that I can snuggle away from the madding crowd to a sanctuary of personal freedom, contemplation and inner peace.

The window seat is my heaven. Yet, how many of us who travel take the window for granted? Some have one glance out the window, then they shut the blind so others can’t see out. Some use the space and the light of the sky to read by. Others, like myself, stare endlessly out at the clouds, dreaming, contemplating deep within, of possibilities ... or nothing. Daydreaming. Meditating. At night, when all I can see in the window is a refection of myself, I feel safe in my aloneness.

At one time, to not have the window seat gave me claustrophobia. Now, if I do end up with an isle or the dreaded middle seat on short hops, I have learned to meditate to rest my mind. But the window is still, indeed, very special.

Air travel has only been on the planet for the past century. Imagine if Socrates or Plato had flown in a window seat, what poetry or insights would have emanated? How about Beethoven: what new melodies could he have captured from a trip through the clouds? What if one of the great minds of history, Shakespeare, Leonardo Da Vinci or Buddha, had boarded a 747 and flown in a window seat? What memorable sights would have inspired their creativity? Strangely though, not many artists, thinkers or philosophers who fly today treat us to a book, a composition of music, poetry or a work of art inspired by the bliss of air travel.

While most people detest travel for travel’s sake, I feel totally at home in an airport or at forty thousand feet. I don’t mind the check-in or the security. That’s because I’m fully prepared for it. The wait at the airport gate is fine for people watching or browsing the book stores. Then I board the aircraft where my window is waiting, and it’s a trip through the clouds to who knows where. It becomes my own special time. For me, it’s like floating on cotton wool. It gives me time to dream, to create in my own poetic imagination, to be among the etherial contemplation of the universe and far beyond; to be sailing, soaring, floating above the mind-numbing quagmire, of what seem like ants, on mother earth. For this, I imagine, is how the soul floats.

Some years ago I read the book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach. It’s a metaphorical story about flying higher than your wildest dreams. It’s about breaking free from the social complications of cultural structure to find one’s own individuality. An inspiration of earthly dreams. It has also inspired many, not only to fly, but to be at one with flight. It really is the high flying bible. Try reading it while looking down on a sea of clouds.

As well as revery, of course I have seen some of the most spectacular sights from the air. Early one morning when en-route to Los Angeles, one pilot circled the Grand Canyon a couple of times because it was such a clear day. The great gash in the earth’s crust was never so dynamic in the low light. When flying to India, I remember looking down at the beautiful city if Istanbul. Like a great smile, the mosques were shining from one end of the city to the other. Flying along the string of islands in the turquoise South Pacific to reach the jewel of Bora Bora, was a sight to behold. One time when flying from Paris to London on a clear day, I was excited to see both sides of the English Channel through my one window. That small stretch of sea that so many lives had been lost over, seemed so close. Seeing the high glaciers from over Greenland on a flight to Vancouver was an awesome sight. They seem to reach up to greet you. Then there’s the Himalaya Mountains or the Golden Gate Bridge.

Many of us are dreamers, and when faced with a choice between reality or fantasy, we choose fantasy. Call it escapism. Call it the need to recharge. But how many of us are driven by our fantasies? Where do creative people go to regenerate their spark? We all need to “chill-out”, and we all find it in different ways. One of mine is through flying, drifting, meditating and watching some of the most spectacular sights. Basically, I love having my head in the clouds (metaphorically) while sailing in a boat, riding a horse, watching a fire crackle, being totally absorbed in a beautiful symphony or art, hiking a mountain side, watching the ocean or flying in the clouds. It’s the essence of my regeneration process.

I couldn’t be more thankful that my work, my life and the time in which we live have given me air travel, for what other man-made, technological wonder could be as sweet?

The window seat comes highly recommended. But don’t just take it and not use it’s power. Settle in and let your mind fly along with your soul, contemplate your dreams and your bliss. And remember what magic there may be in observing an early morning sunrise at forty thousand feet.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ad73vrEUOX0&feature=feedrec_grec_index

Quotes:
“My soul is in the sky.”
- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

“I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I'm just soul on a sunbeam.”
- Richard Bach

“Within all of us is a varying amount of space lint and star dust, the residue from our creation. Most are too busy to notice it, and it is stronger in some than others. It is strongest in those of us who fly and is responsible for an unconscious, subtle desire to slip into some wings and try for the elusive boundaries of our origin.”
- K.O. Eckland, "Footprints On Clouds"

“When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”
- Leonardo Da Vinci

“O! for a horse with wings!”
- William Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Smiley Words

2011-11-20T15:09:00.000-08:00

Isn't it interesting, the meaning we put on words, whether for serious conversation or just for fun?

I once worked with a recent German immigrant to Canada who continually repeated the word Tuktoyaktuk. If you’d asked him a question he’d always say Tuktoyaktuk before anything else. Of course he was just showing off his sense of humour; that he loved the sound of this new word.

Tuktoyaktuk is a town or an outpost, a northern settlement in the far north of Canada situated on the Arctic Ocean. The word comes from the Inuit people and it means “resembling a caribou.” To this day, I don’t really know if he knew what he was saying, as he told everybody he encountered that they resembled a caribou. He just enjoyed the word.

During the 1970s, I was sent on assignment to communist Romania to film Easter festivities in the northern province of Moldavia. Colour, egg-cracking and worship filled the scene as the local people dressed in their traditional costumes and gathered at their historic churches. They also displayed their creative skills by exquisitely hand-painting hard-boiled eggs with various designs. These were wonderful sights, but documentary filming has it’s long hours.

After a particularly long, difficult day of filming that had started at four in the morning with a church procession, the cameraman, Wally, who I was working with, suddenly felt the compulsion for an ice cream. We were in the north of the country near the Soviet border, staying in a small city called Sucava. It was Easter and most places were closed.

We raced to town in our small rental car and scoured the city, first to find a shop that was open, then to try and translate the word “ice cream” into Romanian. Wally spotted a booth that sold lottery tickets. He ran up to the booth and quickly rimed off the word, ice cream in French: creme glacee, Italian: gelato, Spanish: el helado and German: die eiscreme. Well, the lotto man looked at Wally’s enthusiasm and laughed, then he just smiled as he slowly spoke the word: inghetata.

And the race was on. Inghetata suddenly became the key to our happiness.

We both raced around the town square like fools, going up to strangers and saying the word Inghetata in their faces. Some smiled, others must have thought we were lunatics. Finally, Wally confronted an old lady, “Ah! Inghetata.” she said, and pointed toward the street where we had just driven.

We both ran and probably found the last open ice cream shop in the city that was about to close. On the front, in big letters, was the word: Inghetata. The shopkeeper saw how desperate we were, so he let us in to sample some of the best ice cream I have ever tasted. Wally was happy.

From that time on both Wally and I had a secret word between us, inghetata. And each time we would see each other at events or on film shoots for the next few years, we would mutter the word to each other.

Each language has it's fun words. I love the words: marmalade, umbrella, brouhaha, cantankerous, discombobulated, gobbledygook, rambunctious, mollycoddle, nincompoop.

Inghetata, remains the only word I have ever learned of the Romanian language and I say it each time I meet a Romanian. The times have been numerous, and each time it brings a big smile.

Quotes:

"Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning."

-Maya Angelou

"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.
- Truman Capote

"Ice-cream is exquisite - what a pity it isn't illegal."

- Voltaire

Enlightenment

2011-11-10T03:16:00.000-08:00

In the 1960s I was a teenager. My hero was James Bond, my sound track was The Beatles and my focus was the arts. I was not a Hippy. Hippies were protesters and many were drug users searching for a path to spiritual enlightenment. I was busy building a life and a career as a photographer.

I didn't do drugs, except for the odd beer. But spirituality had been with me since I was a young child. I would marvel at nature and find the wonders of the universe in everything. I knew the world was a special place, as I awoke to the gift of awareness. I was curious about everything and I searched for my truth, purpose and reason in all. Perhaps this was my partial path to enlightenment.

As a choir boy in church school, I was taught religion. But I soon realized religion wasn’t for me, especially as an all-or-nothing way to god. I rejected the over-riding, controlling forces that tried to indoctrinate me. I also rejected the teachings that preached that god was a jealous or a vindictive god. That was not my way of thinking. This characterization was that of a nasty human, not the universal spirit with which I had come to understand.

Thankfully, I didn’t need organized religion to help me find my spirit. I didn’t have to go to church on Sundays to be a spiritual person. My spirituality was freedom from control, freedom to find my own way of thinking, freedom to wonder at the world, freedom to find me. My doctrine was to be a good person, live with a sense of right and wrong, be aware of all that surrounds.

Where I got this individuality and awareness from, I really don’t know. It could have been from the love, nurturing and challenge of a curious mother. Perhaps it was by being tuned to the colours and the multi-level thoughts that every day life has to offer. Or maybe it was built from snippets of conversation from a combination of people throughout the years. We do things and meet people for a purpose, but we must listen and decipher the meanings to understand if there’s a real message.

Life is not about loud noises. Peace is in silence. Understanding is in creative thought. Learning and knowledge are freedom from ignorance. Wisdom is the understanding that we are all one. Meditation can help the senses discover the spirit. For me, meditation can be the wind breezing through the pinewood trees on a cool fall day, listening to the high ocean surf on a spring beach, watching a winter fire crackle or smelling the aroma of a rose. It’s also in going deep within to find your light, your peace.

Not everyone has the sensibility to catch the nuance of a well-placed remark as being a message to ponder. Many are lost souls needing to have meanings placed in front of them on giant billboards. While religion does that for many, for me, religion and spirituality are separate. Religion is an organized group of people aiming to mentally indoctrinate others into believing that theirs is the only way to find god and possible salvation. Take it or leave it. Their truth comes by preaching the dogma of their sect, church, synagogue, temple or mosque, and by teaching people to follow, rather than by empowering them to cultivate their awareness, and to use their own intuition to discover themselves in the real world.

I believe that confining and controlling individuals through fear, guilt, intimidation, societal power and stigma goes against the personal freedoms that are truly “god-given”. The great prophets and sons-of-god had wise and wonderful things to say, but many of their great ideas have been corrupted by controlling institutions. So, I have found my own way. Along my path I have discovered much by reading and learning from the teachings of sages, shamans, philosophers and prophets, and many of them, I discovered, lived with the same spirituality that I had found.

Spirituality is the overall belief in a greater force. Call it the Universe. Call it god. Spirituality also has a major component of awareness attached to it. One leads to the other. Spirituality is everywhere and I have found it more times, far away from humanity, in the wilds of nature around the world, than anywhere else. Of course, spirituality is within. The circle always leads us back to our own selves. That is where the journey begins and ends. We find our own happiness. We discover our own soul. We truly are our own beings.

Finding one’s own path to some sort of enlightenment is a personal journey. The universe within is ours to discover, and when we find it, we suddenly realize that we really are all at one with the universe (with god) as we are at one with each other. We were all born of the universe and that is where we will return one day.

Why are we here? I don’t know. Where are we going? Ambiguous. I still have some searching to do. However, I firmly believe that the purpose of life is to make our own purpose. Pursue our own love. Love the things we like to do. Be a good person. Follow our conscience of right and wrong. Be aware of everything.

And Love? Love others for all it’s worth.

How do we do all that? Well, we humans have been given something special. We have been given creativity. Creativity to find or make whatever we want. But how many of us do?

Creativity is the ability to find, try, invent and enjoy something new. This is by far the greatest gift. For creativity will take us to those unknown places about which we dream. It will help us find the meanings that will steer the course of our life journey.

Life is a gift, create it well.

Whether we actually reach an enlightenment before we die, only the individual will know. But being a good person will show us an inner light for peace and love.

The universe is within us all.

Notes
Experience more.
Turn off the noise and enjoy the silence.
Live with awareness - be more here and now.
Fall in love with everything.
Live creative. (www.livecreatif.com)

Quotes

“Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”
- Max Ehermann - Desiderata

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."
- William Shakespeare

"Every human has four endowments - self awareness, conscience, independent will and creative imagination. These give us the ultimate human freedom... The power to choose, to respond, to change."
- Stephen Covey

Sunrise at Ali-Shan

2011-10-04T08:38:00.000-07:00

Like a macabre, supernatural dream, I was surrounded by an undulating, surging mass of humanity. It was dark, cold, 3.30 am and difficult to wake up.

It had been a peaceful afternoon in the gardens of the Ali-Shan Guest House. But now, at this extremely early hour, large crowds were gathered; people, hundreds of them from the area hotels and guest houses. Early morning risers on their pilgrimage to the top of the mountain for a single purpose: Sunrise.

Like an ethereal, moving painting, flashlight beams and lanterns were the only glowing illumination to light our stumble up the steep incline to the old train station, about a quarter of a mile above. Then, the loudest shrill shriek, loud enough to wake the devil, echoed along the hillside. It was a little train calling the faithful as it chugged into the platform, blasting it’s whistle and loaded with visitors from another station further below.

We squeezed into the nearest carriage and like rush-hour in a big city subway, it left many waiting for the next train. Standing room only, but the ride was comfortable. It was an odd sensation being one of only a couple of westerners towering over every other Asian tourist on the train. Many smiled and nodded. Curiosity, I guess, as my normal 5 ft 11 ins gave me a birds-eye view of each excited, yet sleepy passenger.

The little locomotive wound its way up and around the steep mountain-side, over looking a sheer drop through the dark pine woods, tropical rain forests and bamboo trees, down to the many towns that housed this crowded civilization. Around and around we chugged, then up a steep incline and backward, up and forward again like a very slow roller coaster, climbing, climbing the well-traveled route to the top of Ali-Shan (Ali Mountain).

We had become part of the local adventure to go from the bustling metropolis of Taipei to race up Ali-Shan, head for a hotel booked weeks in advance, stay overnight and wait for the early hours. Then join the hordes, en-masse and climb aboard the junket to the top of the mountain, to one of the most spectacular sites in the world: Sunrise over the highest peak in Taiwan, Yu-Shan (Jade Mountain).

The real journey began the day before, at the foot of Ali-Shan when we boarded a small antique narrow-gauge railway for the 45-mile trip straight up, across 114 bridges, through 49 tunnels, around paddy fields, tea plantations, bamboo forests, pine woods and massive rock outcrops. Stopping every now and again at small villages to pick up or drop off workmen who maintain the mountain park, the forests and the train track. In three full hours the little train wound up the slopes, through dense mountain passes and cloud patches to finally end at the entrance to the village of Ali-Shan.

Now, in this cool mountain morning air, a faint glimmer of light beckoned to the east and the morning star shone brighter. Night’s blanket was lifting over Asia as we reached the top and the end of track. The train doors opened slowly and the race was on for the summit.

Sitting atop Ali-Shan’s Celebration Peak is a tea room, where the lucky few who had the foresight to buy tickets warm themselves from the cool high altitude, sip tea and nibble on biscuits while seated at a table with a most spectacular view. They look toward the east, across a cloud-shrouded, mountain valley to the highest mountain range east of the Himalayas, with the peak of Jade Mountain towering over all, rising toward the heavens.

Others like us, stood outside savouring the fresh mountain air, shivering in the cold by the first light of dawn, waiting. Some with flasks of tea, some with small bottles of booze, others hugging each other for warmth. Hundreds of people mingling, yawning, rubbing their eyes as the tension mounted. All eyes searching the horizon, across the heaven like sea of clouds to find where the light glowed brightest, speculating where the sun would appear.

Anticipation, excitement, adventure, early morning beauty. The earth revolved another few degrees and then, a bolt from the blue, the first glimpse of the great ball of sun reared it’s head like a hungry dragon bursting fiery light toward us, beginning it’s celestial journey across the heavens to light the new day.

The crowd lifted their arms and let out a loud, joyful cheer, a ritual to the Sun God. A spectacular moment of held breath, joy, squinting brightness and forgotten shivers that stopped time for about a minute.

Then it was over.

They saw what they had come to see. Now the rush was on once more. Down. Down the mountainside for breakfast and home before noon.

Over for them, but not for us. We headed for the vacated tea house and slowly awoke as the day sparkled before us.

“What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives?”

- E. M. Forster

“We can only appreciate the miracle of a sunrise if we have waited in the darkness.”

- Author Unknown

On the internet, I found a video of a similar experience at: http://vimeo.com/14357383

Lucky, or What

2011-09-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

How many of us have been confronted by imminent death?

For some of us, we felt it intensely at the moment, while others realized after the fact just how close we were to certain death.

I remember vividly one time in Los Angeles when I was driving to the San Fernando Valley to renew car insurance on a rental car, I was confronted by, what could have been, certain death.

Heading north on the 405 freeway through Santa Monica I was in the second lane from the left. The road was relatively clear except for an old, slow truck blocking the fast lane. Anyone who wanted to pass had to overtake it on the inside. It was one of those yard maintenance trucks that carry lawnmowers, sweepers, brooms, rakes and many other tools to beautify some of the many gardens of Southern California. This truck had metal posts on the corners that reached up to create a roof. On top of the roof sat a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood held on by a couple of bungee cords.

It was a beautiful, sunny day with the white Getty Center shining on the hill in front of me. I was traveling at about 65 miles an hour.

As I approached within about a hundred feet of the truck, I noticed one of the bungee chords holding the plywood, snap. A gust of wind then lifted the heavy sheet of wood up and it snapped the other bungee. It lifted like a sail to rise up and stand upright on top of the truck.

Thoughts raced through my head. Could I speed up or slow down, could I swerve into another lane? I was alone, so I didn’t have nervous passengers with me. Just myself and my wits.

I watched in horror as danger flashed in front my eyes. The sheet of plywood blew off the truck and headed my way. First it flipped and bounced onto one of it’s corners on the roadway, then it rolled on end and was lifted up to head straight, in a flat angle, like a stealth bomber aiming at about five feet above the pavement toward my windscreen, and me.

I was doomed, but ducked away toward my right into the front passenger seat. Another gust of wind, and the plywood nosed down and pounded head first into the ground. I slowed as I saw it hit at what seemed to be about three feet in front of my car, then it bounced and jumped over the car. It was above me, flying overhead, about to land on top of the car. I sped up and looked in my rear view mirror to see it land flat on the roadway behind. Thank goodness the car behind was a long way back.

It happened in seconds, and my heart was pounding. I breathed a big sigh of relief. I realized that life is so fleeting. I then sped away from the scene and was so glad to be alive. I opened my mouth and said out loud to the empty spaces in the car, “Whoever is in this car with me, I thank you for saving my life.”

I was overwhelmed with the joy of being alive. I kept thanking the gods for guiding that sheet of plywood away from me. I could have been cut in half. The car could have been taken out of control to roll into another lane and collide with another car, another life. It could have been a fiery crash, or at least, a needless mess.

When I arrived at the car rental lot to renew my car insurance, they told me that my insurance had run out the previous day. That meant, had the plywood hit me and I survived, I would have had to buy the car.

I felt I got away with much more than my life that day. My soul was renewed. I felt as if my life had been spared.

Now, how do I fulfill that potential?

"Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives."
- A. Sachs

"It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we're alive - to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a facade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are."
- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

"When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live you life in a manner so that when you die the world cries and you rejoice."
- Native American Proverb

The Glory that was Rome

2011-07-01T12:36:00.000-07:00

As in an artist’s painting, we waited on that rainy, misty morning, alone as the gatekeepers made ready. The gates then swung open and down we walked, back in time to what was once the glory of Rome. And for a brief moment, we had it all to ourselves.

Here were the toppled columns where once stood great temples, marking a wondrous Empire that lasted a thousand years. Here stood the Roman Forum where Julius Caesar’s body was cremated and Mark Antony said those famous words embellished by William Shakespeare:

“Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.”

It was now all a mess, excavated from hundreds of years of decay. Cleaned up for tourists; for us. Indeed, it was of another day.

As we strolled this lonely grave yard of memories, it was hard to fathom the power that had once ruled the known world. An Empire, the likes the world has not seen since.

It was brutal, mean, deadly and destructive to it’s enemies. A bloodthirsty Empire of mass murders. Yet, it was a civilization that brought us law, art, literature, government, architecture, bricks and mortar, roads, irrigation, sewers, medicine, fresh water, public order and, of course, wine.

By the time the Empire disintegrated in the 5th century, the Roman Catholic religion was building its edifices and it needed building materials, marble, columns, rock, etc. The Roman buildings were scavenged and, what once was an lavish city of great marble building and advanced architecture, ended up as the building blocks of many churches. In time, the idea of the Roman Emperor became the Church of Rome’s Pope, the generals became the bishops and what was left of ancient Rome became buried in time: Forgotten to all except those who wrote about it, painted it, made movies about.

To wander this uncovered ruin of Rome was overwhelming for a history buff like myself. At one end of this ancient city stands the Arch of Constantine and the Colosseum where thousands of men, women, children and animals lost their lives in gladiator fights. At the other end sits what is left of the Forum, the Senate and many other identified buildings, open spaces or areas built upon by modern city roads. In between sits the Palatine hill, on top of which stood the Emperor’s palace. The inter-connecting roads hosted the grand parades and displays of pageantry, especially when the Roman armies had just wiped out and looted other civilization. On the opposite side of the Hill, the Emperor’s Palace overlooks the Circus Maximus. Here the blood fest of the chariot races were held.

It’s all long gone, and unlike many other archeological sites I have experienced, this one felt strange. I felt no sense of the glory that was Rome, that is for the imagination to conjure up, and for the history books and artists to expose. I can see Rome in the artistry of a great performance by Marlon Brando playing Mark Antony and speaking Shakespeare’s words, but somehow I couldn’t relate it to this rubble before me. I can see the chariot races in the movie Ben Hur but wandering around the Circus Maximus does not give me the same thrill that the film makers are able to excite in their recreation of the great spectacle. Today the Circus Maximus is just a huge field that is used for Papal ceremonies and perhaps rock concerts.

Napoleon said it well, “Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.” Yet, it’s the artists that can bring back an age when the world was different. To wander the painting galleries and the sculpture gardens depicting Ancient Rome is where my thrill really lives. To experience a play by Shakespeare, Julius Caesar or Caesar and Cleopatra, or a film like Ben Hur or Spartacus, will bring Rome to life. Art, for me, is more real than the reality of this decrepit site.

Standing among the ruins was overwhelming, but dead. I had to experience the Roman Forum a couple of times before it reality sank in. But I came away with a newly formed respect for the artists who bring it all to life. It is through art, literature, painting, sculpture, theatre and movies etc., that history can be brought alive with stories that help us relate and connect with ancient people just like us.

A note to today’s politicians: Be kind to the artists, for they will live forever.

"In America the President reigns for four years, and Journalism governs forever and ever."
- Oscar Wild

"All the ancient histories, as one of our wits say, are just fables that have been agreed upon."
- Voltaire

"Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history."
- Plato

"History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it myself."
- Winston Churchill

One Bag Travel

2011-06-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

“Go light,” they said. “Take only one bag.”
How could I use one bag? I’m so used to traveling around the world with a multitude of heavy camera cases and a couple of large personal suitcases. One bag? They’ve gotta be kidding.

Well, George Clooney's character does it in “Up in the Air.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGsRSLivx7A

There are websites that talk about the virtue of traveling with one bag. New websites are popping up all the time, and they mean one, small, airline-approved carry-on.

I’ve always been a traveler. I thought nothing of long trips to exotic places around the world while shooting documentary films for television. I’ve traveled with at least 16(sometimes more) large cases filled with rolls of film, batteries, lenses, tripods, lighting kits and, of course, cameras. Then there was the personal luggage. I would travel with two standard suitcases, one large, one small. But even by today’s standards, the small case was huge, and these wonderful suitcases are now sitting in my storage locker.

These days I am no longer traveling with big cameras, lights, lenses or film. The cameras are much smaller and now there’s no film or tape; just a hard drive or perhaps a memory chip. My personal luggage is usually one large cargo-type bag, and another if I need heavy winter clothes.

However, when it comes to personal travel, I know I need to cut down on baggage. Many airlines now charge for a second bag and they may soon bring in charges for the first bag. The only sanctity left without paying needlessly is the carry-on. Especially if I’ve already scoured the Internet to find the cheapest air fares. But how to pare-down to travel small and light?

Travel guru/writer and broadcaster Rick Steves has been traveling to Europe for many years. For weeks at a time every year he has been writing his travel guides and shooting his TV shows for PBS, all this while carrying one 22x14x9 carry-on suitcase/backpack. And yes, he packs light and washes his socks and underwear when needed.

Before I go any further, I am not suggesting that people should carry luggage on their back if they don’t want to do this. George Clooney's character didn’t. There are a wealth of good roller/wheeled bags that fit most airline restrictions of 22x14x9, including some on Rick Steves website. http:www.ricksteves.com

There are also many websites that can help the traveler cut out needless luggage. I recently found a site called One Bag http://www.onebag.com/ This is a well written site by a seasoned traveler who thoroughly researches and extolls the virtue of the carry-on bag. Like Steves, he has been using one bag for years. He’s even designed the perfect bag for a travel company. You’ll see it mentioned on the site. There’s also an excellent site for traveling women: One Bag Girl, http://www.onebaggirl.com Other sites include: http://www.packinglight.net or http://www.wanderlass.com/2011/06/girls-rtw-packing-list.html

But how to perform the gymnastics of paring down my “stuff?” Well, change my thinking. I’m willing, able and game to try, and my wife and I planned a two week trip to Rome. So here we go.

It’s not how much you can stuff into a small bag, it’s how light can you can travel. Many of the most seasoned travelers don’t even recommend a roller/wheeled bag but a light bag with backpack conversion straps; light, easy to carry, good for running through airports if need be. Wheels take up space and they add a lot of weight to a small bag.

The MEI Voyager http://www.meivoyageur.com/ is one of the most recommended suitcase/backpacks on the market (also recommended by One Bag and One Bag Girl). I ordered a black one. It looks more like a suitcase and was delivered within a couple of weeks. You can carry it like a suitcase with or without a shoulder strap. But you can also turn it on it’s back, pull out the back straps and, when needed, carry it on your back. It’s so light; three pounds plus your stuff. That’s five or six pounds lighter than a bag with wheels. Most airline restrictions are 22x14x9 with a weight restriction of 20 pounds or 10 kilos. Those extra pounds could mean that extra sweater.

My wife has a 22x14x9 carry-on, roller/wheeled bag and I now have my 22x14x9 Voyager bag. We also both purchased a Rick Steves shoulder bag; the Velocé.

http://travelstore.ricksteves.com/catalog/index.cfm fuseaction=product&theParentId=8&id=217

This bag is the best shoulder travel bag I have ever owned, but perhaps a bit bulky as a day-to-day bag.

To pack our little bags, we employed the use of the EagleCreek “Pack-it” system. http://www.eaglecreek.com/packing_solutions/ One full cube, one double sided cube, two half size cubes, a small “pack-it” folder for shirts and ties etc. and a “Quick Trip” small toiletry kit. I also have a three bag stuffer set for dirty laundry, shoes or other quick needs. In the bottom of the bag I carried an extra shopping-style bag for those souvenirs and extras gathered on the trip.

As for clothes, in the full packing cube I was able to roll up two pairs of light trousers and two long-sleeve T-shirts. A couple of black T-shirts and a merino wool, roll-neck sweater. In the double sided cube, I stuffed a swim suit, (never leave home without one), special quick drying socks and underwear (http://www.tilley.com/Men-Underwears-Socks.aspx or http://www.exofficio.com/search/underwear) and a space for some gifts, etc. In the two half cubes, one was for electrical gear (charging cables for phones and ipod accessories, etc), the other half cube was for a mini first aid kit, a small quick dry towel, a kit comprising laundry soap, a clothes line and a universal sink plug for washing socks and underwear, if needed. When all the Pack-it cubes were filled, there was also enough room in the bag for a carefully folded blazer on the top of the cubes.

One thing I had difficulty with was the concept of taking only one pair of shoes. I had to wear them for everything. They had to be sturdy and they had to look good if we were to dress up in the evening. I took my very comfortable, black Mephisto walking shoes and some shoe polish. Shoes are bulky, so to pack extra shoes you might have to leave other items behind.

In my shoulder bag I carried a small umbrella, a wind breaker/rain shell, a thin down vest that folded into one of its pockets and acted as my airplane pillow, my 3-1-1 bag of liquids, a book and my travel documents, etc. And that was it, except for the traveling clothes on my back.

We took British Airways from Vancouver to London, through Heathrow’s Terminal Five with a connecting flight to Rome. Being herded through Heathrow was no problem and checking our bags on the Rome flight was a cinch. We caught the train from the Rome airport to the downtown Termini Station, then walked to our hotel, about three blocks with my Voyager bag on my back and my wife wheeling her bag. It all was very easy.

Our trip to Rome during Easter week was wonderful and eventful as we discovered the Roman Forum in the morning when no one else was around. It was magical having it all to ourselves. We climbed to the top of Saint Peter’s in the Vatican. Quite the climb, but well worth the view. And we experienced the best gelato in the world. Rome is a very special place and walking the streets for two weeks gives you a real sense of life, history and geography.

Our trek home through London was easy on the day of the Royal Wedding, and our flight over the Canadian Arctic back to Vancouver was thankfully uneventful.

The one bag experiment was successful. I didn’t crave any extra space. I had room for a pair of flip flops I bought and my wife bought me a lovely pair of Mephisto sandals that easily squeezed in the bag. By the way, they are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever owned.

It was an easy trip and I can imagine a full scenario and schedule of air, train, car and walking travel with this one bag. I’m sure any trip with this would be successful.

If George Clooney's character can do it, and enjoy it, so can I.

Back to School

2010-09-04T07:20:00.000-07:00

As a youth, I disliked school intensely. It wasn’t the learning that was my problem, it was the institution and the other kids I had to deal with. They distracted me to the point where I lost my way with learning.

Young kids aren’t always taught by their parents that school is for learning. Yes, kids must go to school, but for what? Many children think it’s time to play, others learn to communicate, some learn to cause trouble, and others go just because they are told. I don’t remember being told that I was supposed to learn, but somehow I did. I learned to read and write; I learned geography, history and science; so I did learn the basics. The institution of school was prison to me. Yet, I learn that I liked the arts: music, theater, painting, and I almost joined the budding photography club. But I didn’t.

In Canada I was moved around from school to school, as my father moved from Canadian town to town as a bank manager. After my parents divorced, my mother and I moved to England, and there we travelled from town to town trying to settle down. My education was in a shambles. I couldn’t concentrate. I lost interest, inclination, and the other kids were a major distraction. I became a dreamer and I’d stare out the window a lot. I took to cross country running because I didn’t like the rough team sports of rugby or football (soccer). And on the cross country miles I’d dream and I’d scheme. About what, I don’t know. I couldn’t wait to leave school, and when I did, ironically I discovered the idea of adult learning.

When I think of all the night school courses, university and college extension courses, private courses, business courses, professional advancement courses, seminars, studied readings in art, science, philosophy, liberal arts, world politics, the millions of miles of international travel, and all the education and knowledge I have given myself since I left school, I look back on an extremely powerful and focused lifetime achievement in higher learning. I may not have the highest university degree, but my acquired knowledge and awareness of the world are phenomenal.

This year, school came a calling again. I am now taking a course at teacher's college. It’s back to school to learn how to put together a curriculum to teach others. My aim is to help inspire young adults who have been left behind by the school system, as I was. Some haven’t found their inspiration for adult learning. Many have landed in jobs where there is no future, no satisfaction, no life. Many have turned to drugs or crime. Many have been indoctrinated into the complacency of too comfortable a life where everything is being done for them. They have become apathetic and unmotivated. They haven’t been able to find anything they really like to do or anything to grasp onto with their imagination, their passion or their interest. They get caught up in a trance of just “existing” and they find it hard to escape.

With a lifetime of working in the arts as a creative individual, I plan to teach creativity and innovation to help people find new ideas and bring them to life, to motivate an awareness that good choices will help build better lives. For me, helping people find and exercise their fundamental gift to humanity, of creativity, is a way of giving back to society. Society will be severely challenged in the next few years, there needs to be a population ready to channel their own ingenuity.

I will always be thankful for the schooling that I had, it happened at my pace, and it's a life long adventure.

Doctor Zhivago (favorite films)

2010-05-30T13:05:00.001-07:00

Composer Maurice Jarre’s music from Doctor Zhivago begins with subtle and quiet undertones, then it works its way through melodic crescendos of Russian inspired flavoring in an orchestral masterwork that shines the light on a simple theme: Lara's Theme. This is where my heart soars with memories of young love. Who hasn’t taken their girl to the movies? She and I went just once, that I can remember. It was so long ago - 1966. I was seventeen, but that one time not only captured my heart, but my imagination as a photographer of movies. Sadly, the love didn’t last. We were very young. But the passion of a great movie and great photography left an everlasting impression. I was a budding photographer at the time, and this film made me realize that I had entered the right profession.

Doctor Zhivago is an epic film set in an epic time: A tragic love story carried along by the turmoil of the Russian revolution. It could have been just another movie among the many. But it wasn’t. Zhivago stands out as the perfect epic, like Lawrence of Arabia a few years before and Bridge on the River Kwai before that. It was film maker David Lean at the prime of his creative life. Unlike most film makers, Lean knew how to tell a story for the big screen, scattering it with emotion, heartbreak, love and anticipation - filled with the cinematic nuance that everyday life holds for us all. It's a wide reaching adventure, boiled down to a heart breaking love story between two beautiful people. When we watch one of Lean’s films, we are poetically transported to an experience of place and time, with characters that live, breath and hurt. With Doctor Zhivago, we get involved as if we knew the characters personally. We experience the tragedy of war and marvel at the lyrical arrival of spring. We shiver through the cold Russian winter and feel the warmth and romance of falling in love. It’s an experience romantics will never forget.

All the film artists who worked along side Lean were just as magnificent in their work: Director of Photography Freddy Young, whose lighting compositions were so exquisite that they brought the art of photography into our lives like no other. Why couldn’t real life look so good? And the epic was all tied together with the wonderful symphonic score by Maurice Jarre. He writes a good tune, but captures our hearts and emotions with pure orchestral beauty. Young and Jarre both won individual Oscars, as did writer Robert Bolt, Designer John Box, Costume Designer Phyllis Dalton. Sadly neither the film, nor David Lean won an Oscar. But the legacy of this great artist lives on like no other.

For me, inspiration means so much when you observe the best. And perhaps, in some way, this film was part of my own destiny to find my own profession in film making rather than still photography. I can honestly say that I tried, throughout my own career, to live up to the wonderful imagery and style set by the great masters of my profession. My life's learning and work is a humble testament to their creativity.

Recently, the Blu-ray High Definition version of Doctor Zhivago was released. Until now, I hadn’t seen it look as spectacular as when I first saw it in 1966. This HD version is a monumental tribute to the quality, longevity and restoration of this great masterpiece and the artists who created it. This was the first of the three best films from Director David Lean to be offered on Blu-ray. I am now anxiously awaiting the Blu-ray arrival of Lawrence of Arabia and Bridge on the River Kwai.

“Every time I presented a new theme to David, he rejected it and said that I could do better. ... Then, one Friday, David told me to stop work, to stop thinking about the film or the music and go away for the weekend to the beach or mountains, to clear my brain and start afresh on the Monday. ... After those 2 days of clearing the brain, in one hour on Monday morning I had found Lara’s Theme ...”

- Maurice Jarre

“I've just begun to dare to think I perhaps am a bit of an artist.”

- David Lean

Pasha: I used to admire your poetry.

Zhivago: Thank you.

Pasha: I shouldn't admire it now. I should find it absurdly personal. Don't you agree? Feelings, insights, affections... it's suddenly trivial now.

And our heads will smash like eggs

2010-05-21T19:48:00.000-07:00

Remember Lawrence of Arabia? It was great film of a great life. Thomas Edward Lawrence was a British Soldier at the time of World War One who, along with the British Army, helped the Arabs in Arabia take back their lands from the Ottoman Empire, also known today as the Turkish. They had ruled over the Arab lands for hundreds of years.

After the war, Lawrence shy’ed away from the limelight and lived in a small cottage in southern England. He worked at the local military camp and drove back and forth to work on his motor bike each day. One day as he was driving home for lunch he noticed a couple of boys about to cross his path. He swerved to avoid them and he was thrown from his bike, through the air, to land on his head on the roadway.

As you can imagine, his head was smashed like an egg and his brains were falling out when they found him. Back then people didn’t wear helmets. He was taken to a hospital where he died a week later. Had he lived, he would have been in a vegetative state with absolutely no real life at all. He died on May 19th, 1935, exactly 75 years ago. He was only 46.

One of the physicians who worked on Lawrence, an Australian named Doctor Hugh Cairns, took note of the injuries and realized that he could do something to help the needless loss of life he was witnessing for the many motorcycle riders in traffic accidents. He decided to help develop protective head-wear, and one of the first riding helmets was in response to the tragic death of T.E. Lawrence. The ultimate result of this tragedy was that many countries in the western world now make it a law to wear a helmet. In the city of Vancouver there is a law that requires you to always wear a helmet when you ride a bicycle.

We human beings are very fragile creatures; especially our brains. However, we don’t always use our brains when it comes to protecting ourselves.

Years ago I remember Actor Gary Busey playing singer Buddy Holly. Busey was renown for riding his motorbike around California without a helmet. He openly defied the helmet law and repeatedly said that it was an infringement on his freedom of choice. One day he crashed. He was bucked off from his bike and his head went smashing into a curb, opening his skull and causing severe brain damage. He was very lucky he didn’t die. But I don’t know if he really fully enjoys life as he once did.

Safety is especially important with our kids and the ones we love. We want to protect them from harm. There are many surveys to quote, but in Leeds, in the North of England, there was a study that said:

Wearing a bicycle helmet has been shown to reduce serious head injuries by 85%.

39% of deaths from cycling injuries occur in children under the age of 15.

Even a low speed fall on a bicycle path can cause a serious head injury.

Study after study around the world confirms that a head smash to the ground can and will most probably kill you. And most Canadian provinces have enacted laws for wearing helmets, except for our friends in Manitoba and Saskatchewan. They say: “The law discourages recreational exercise during an era of record obesity.”

So, they want to encourage us to live to a ripe old age by being thin, but watch us die with a simple smash to the head from not wearing a helmet. Obviously they don’t have any eggs with which to show an example of a head smashing on a roadway. For if they did, they would wake up very quickly and change the law.

Here are some serious numbers from the United States from The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety: Bicycle deaths by Helmet use in 1998 - 2008. It is not known if these injuries were head injuries:

http://www.iihs.org/research/fatality_facts_2008/bicycles.html

Bicyclist deaths by helmet use, 1998-2008
Year	No helmet use		Helmet use		Total*
Year	Num	%	Num	%	Num
1998	741	98	16	2	757
1999	698	93	42	6	750
2000	622	90	50	7	689
2001	616	84	60	8	729
2002	589	89	54	8	663
2003	535	85	58	9	626
2004	602	83	87	12	722
2005	676	86	77	10	784
2006	730	95	37	5	769
2007	646	92	50	7	699
2008	653	91	58	8	714
*Total includes other and/or unknowns

The basic finding was that 91% of those killed were not wearing helmets.

Our brains are very fragile. So why don’t we use them when it comes to personal safety? It’s astounding what we do: We don’t want to wear life jackets in boats or while white water rafting. We want to send text messages or talk on our cell phone while driving. We don’t want to wear seat belts in a car or on an airplane. We go skiing in avalanche areas and hike where a mountain lion or a bear can eat us for lunch. And it goes on and on. We are really dangerous to ourselves.

As we all know, accidents aren’t planned, and there are many ways to have an accident. As with Lawrence, we can swerve to avoid an accident and be thrown from our bikes or bicycles. We can hit a pot hole with our front tire and go head first over the handlebar. We can slip on a wet surface and smash ourselves on the road, as I once did. It’s a dangerous world. A car can hit us and throw us thirty feet across the highway or we can innocently slip from our bicycle at a standing position and hit our head on the ground. In each case, if our un-protected head hits with any slight force, it could kill us. Our heads will smash like eggs. Yes, we really are very fragile.

But let me ask: What is the helmet law protecting us from? Well, the law is not just to protect us from ourselves, it also protects the public purse: Our tax-payers money. As one Judge recently said about the lack of life vests on an Alberta river, "We're not only trying to protect those people who are engaged in those activities, but also the police, fire, ambulance and other bylaw officers who are going in to rescue these people."

The fact is, they don’t want to have to scrape our brains off the side walk, or pay for a needless brain operation or a smashed up cycling idiot for the rest of their lives at a public funded health facility.

I had a motor bike when I was sixteen. I wore a helmet because the person who sold me the bike gave it to me. One rainy day, I almost slid under a car. If the car hadn’t skidded to a stop about six inches from my nose, and if I hadn’t been wearing my helmet when I banged my head on the road, I wouldn’t be here to tell you about it now. From that young age, I realized that I always needed to protect myself, because there are always accidents waiting to happen. "Safety First" has always been a good motto.

After Gary Busey recovered from his almost fatal crash, he was quoted as saying. “As adults, we should set an example for our children by wearing crash helmets.”

T. E. Lawrence could have contributed much more to our world had he lived a much longer life. But we will never know.

Use caution, look after yourself, look after your loved ones and choose to live wisely with awareness.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/07/03/motorcyclist-dies-helmet-protest_n_889427.html

“Helmet laws are for their protection. They may not like it, but their stupidity proves that wearing a helmet, especially on a long ride, is best for everybody. The helmet law's a good law and that's all there is to it.”

- Evel Knievel

“Get a bicycle. You will not regret it if you live.”
- Mark Twain

“What do you call a cyclist who doesn't wear a helmet? An organ donor.”
- David Perry

Transcendental Meditation

2010-05-12T11:44:00.000-07:00

“So, where did you first hear of Transcendental Meditation?” she asked.

“Why, the Beatles, of course.” I replied.

This was how my introduction began to the Maharishi Yogi’s mind improving meditation. All my life I had heard about the practice of Transcendental Meditation, beginning with the Beatles and their 1968 journey to meet with the Maharishi in India. This was the best PR campaign he could ever have received, and the Maharishi took good advantage, spreading the word about TM and building his organization into a multi-million-dollar business, complete with universities devoted to World Peace. Like all well planned followings, Transcendental Meditation grew into something bigger, with a simple message: Anyone can find inner peace.

In my simple way, I had always found a way to pace myself throughout my busy life. I found corners during lunch hours to sit quietly or I’d drive to work an hour before I was needed, just to relax before the day. I’d take holidays in tranquil places after busy assignments, and I would have the office schedule me some down time to chill out after filming in a particular fun location: Perhaps Paris, Scotland, Nepal, Hawaii, Malaysia or San Francisco. I would take long walks and find spiritual places. I loved the great Cathedrals of Europe and the Buddhist Temples in Taiwan. Maybe it would be a quiet Mosque or an art gallery to sit near in a far away place. Much of my quiet time was beside the sea. I could sit and stare at the sea for hours, or I would hike around a lake or a farm. I remember how the high mountains, the Himalayas, Alps or the Rockies, grabbed at my imagination. Here, I would find a place to view the top of the world. I even found peace sitting in the window seat of a jetliner or beside a fireplace, or watching a candle. Then, there was the music: Beethoven, Bach, Schubert or Mendolsson all performed their magic to calm me down from my hectic life of a film maker.

However, when my busy schedule slowed down a few years ago, I started to lose my connection with my spiritual side; my peace with life, myself. Somehow the hustle of my world had kept me on the right track. I’m not one for organized religion, but I am very spiritual and I need that inward peace and guidance for contentment. Recently, I knew I had to find this part of me again. I remembered the Beatles and the Maharishi.

My questions were: How can I calm my active and restless brain? How can I bring an inner peace back to this, one time, contented soul? How can I find my way back to the relaxation I used to know instinctively?

Last weekend, we joined a Transcendental Meditation class. It was a course introduction of four different classes on four days, comprising lecture, teaching and meditation. It’s not cheap, but I was willing to spend the money to try to regain my sense of “me.” Of course, the first thing I did was sign a paper that told me not to tell anyone how they teach TM or the method. But, I can write of my own personal experience and benefits. The strangest thing, I started off with thoughts that I knew I didn't live; a sort of false history swirling around. Somehow, I’ve experienced them through my first meditations, through dreams, while sleeping. It was somewhat disconcerting but I guess that’s what my new life of dreams and calmness realizes: new thoughts, ideas and contemplations. This means, I’ll have to stay with the program, balance the experience and sort out what is real. So far, meditations are very peaceful; filled with colour and mind-wandering thoughts.

Ancient Indian Transcendental Meditation has been brought down from Guru to Guru for thousands of years. This method popularized by the Maharishi was handed down in teachings from his mentor Guru Dev. Since then, our world has been treated to this way of inner peace from the teachings that were set up in colleges and universities by the Mararishi.

I’m looking to find the peace I have always known. But, I also hope to find a new awareness of the world and my potential through this meditation.

"You don't have to be some sort of freak to meditate."

- John Lennon

"Meditation brings wisdom; lack of meditation leaves ignorance. Know well what leads you forward and what hold you back, and choose the path that leads to wisdom."
- Buddha

"Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity. "

- Voltaire

"I went through two schools of acting but I learned more about acting from meditating and from my marshall arts teacher."

- Forrest Whitaker

"So transcendental meditation brings about transcendental consciousness, which is self-referral consciousness, the source of all intelligence."

- Maharishi Mahesh

Don't go back to sleep (favorite poems)

2010-05-02T20:44:00.001-07:00

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

Don't go back to sleep.

-Rumi

“No poet is more intimate than Rumi, no lover more crazed, no saint more innocent. An air of the supernatural gathered around him because he never lost this wild, extreme state of ecstasy.”- Deepak Chopra

The Battle of York - this day in history

2010-04-27T15:43:00.000-07:00

April 27th, 1813. Cannons thundered across the little town of York, and North America was at war with itself. Two new countries with citizens from the same families, same language.

Ask President Madison, the forth President of the United States, why he did it. He’d probably say that it was a golden opportunity to grab a continent while kicking the English out for good. And the English had their hands full across the ocean with a little Frenchman named Napoleon. So why not make a grab? But provoking neighbours to the north is never a good idea. Especially neighbours with their hands on the best Army and Navy in the world. So the War of 1812 became a hard driven war of battles and skirmishes that the United States had never bargained for with the British in their North American stronghold of Canada.

April 27th, was a battle; a skirmish at the quiet little Capital of Upper Canada, York.

American troops sailed by frigate and landed by long boat along the North Shore of Lake Ontario. They then marched along the shore toward the town and Fort York. In the scuffle that ensued, the Commander of the British Garrison at Fort York ordered a retreat, meaning, “Get out of town, fast. The Americans are coming.” But before they marched, or ran out of town, he left orders to blow-up the gun powder stone-house at the Fort.

As American Soldiers and Marines advanced on the Fort, the gunpowder blew and rocks from the ammunition stone-house flew in all directions, showering rocks, carnage and mayhem, killing many- including American Brigadier General Zebulon Pike, who incidentally, Pikes Peak Mountain in Colorado is named after.

The Americans were so angry at the loss of troops and good officers that when they entered the little town, they sacked the place and burned down the Government House; the Capital.

Of course sometime later in retaliation for torching Canada’s Capital, the British marched on Washington, D.C., and burned the President's Mansion. To quickly cover the blacken scars, it was decided that the mansion should be painted white and from there after it became known as the White House.

All this because of the burning of the little town of York.

The War of 1812 and 1813 claimed too many lives and spread across both nations, ending at the Battle of New Orleans. Neither country lost territory in the war and Canada was saved.

The United States and Canada eventually became the best of friends, and President Madison? Well, he became an American hero, but not for the war of 1812. In most history books it’s a forgotten war because the USA were defeated in their expansionist ambitions. But Madison went on to forge the United States Constitution and today he’s remembered for that.

But what happened to that little town of York? Well, today it’s known to the world as the City of Toronto: A native Indian name meaning meeting place.

Toronto is Canada's largest city and is still host to invading Americans each year. But now, in peace, on vacation.

"I believe that in four weeks from the time a declaration of war is heard on our frontier, the whole of Upper Canada and a part of Lower Canada will be in our power."
- Representative John C. Calhoun

Run Lola Run (favorite films)

2010-04-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

I recently re-watched the German "Art house" film "Run Lola Run."

From the opening credits where a swinging pendulum sets the pace, we hear a clock ticking, the beat of the music starts, and this movie never stops with its frenetic and frantic pace. It's a visual cacophony of different and exciting images that run at you around every corner to build in your brain faster and faster until the end of the movie. Phew. Then your heart is still racing from the experience and you want to see it again.

Run Lola Run is three films in one. Yet, it's the same film time and time again. But it's vastly different in that only the characters are the same. The story hits you repeatedly and builds without repetition. Each time Lola runs past someone on the street, you learn something new; sometimes funny and perhaps quirky about that person, and all within a few seconds, so that by the end of the film, it has been a complete encounter.

The basic story is that she is running to stop her boy friend from committing a crime. I'm sure I lost pounds just watching this girl run. She's beautiful and compelling. She's also hip and fit with red hair flying in the wind. A tight blue top reveals a white bra underneath, and her tight green pants flair at the bottom over black boots; definitely not running shoes.

This is a film like no other. It's so original that I would recommend it to literally anybody who is willing to suspend his or her belief in a linear world.

Run Lola Run is in German with subtitles, but you hardly need to read much dialogue before the images tell you the story.

Written and Directed by Tom Tykwer

Starring: Franka Potente as Lola and Moritz Bleibtreu as Manni her boyfriend

"The secret is just to keep moving."
-Franka Potente

Critic Quote:
"It delivers everything great foreign films should - action, sex, compelling characters, clever filmmaking, it's unpretentious (a requirement for me) and it has a story you can follow. I can't rave about this film enough - this is passionate filmmaking at it's best. One of the best foreign films, heck, one of the best films I have seen."
- Chris Gore

Thanks Billy Bishop or whoever you were.

2010-03-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

“Ever trust your future to a drunken conversation in a bar?”

That was a line from a brilliant play we just saw, “Billy Bishop Goes to War,” about Canadian, World War One flying ace William A. Bishop.

The line hit home, because when I was 19 years old, I did trust my future to a conversation in a bar. Drunken or not, I’m not sure. It was in 1968. My family and I had recently moved half way around the globe from England to Vancouver. We had been looking for a local pub, (there’s one on every corner in England) but we didn’t find one near our new Vancouver home. However, we did find a Royal Canadian Legion. My mother had been in the English services, so we joined.

One evening, after a long day of working at a job I wasn’t particularly enjoying, my mother and I went for a beer at the legion to discuss our situation. Since moving to Vancouver a few months earlier, neither of us were finding the work we aspired to, or wanted. I had apprenticed and had been a photographer in England, and I was looking for a job in the profession where I could build a career. I just wasn’t finding it in Vancouver.

During the evening of beers and conversation, I was introduced to a Toronto man who was visiting Vancouver on business. We talked about the world and business, and he told me of how some people use other people for connections to get ahead in the world. Modern day networking. So I asked the question: “Do you know anyone in the photography or film business in Toronto?” He proceeded to tell me about a friend of his who worked at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Jobs for photographers and cameramen were posted on the jobs board all the time. He suggested that I take a trip to Toronto, talk to his friend and look at the board.

Following another family chat, I found myself on a flight bound for Toronto, and it wasn’t long before I was chatting with this man’s friend at the CBC. “Yes.” he told me, there are were many jobs in my profession, and that I should go and register at the CBC employment office.

With my background, education and training, it wasn’t long before I was accepted at the CBC in a foot-in-the-door job as an office junior. It took me another two years to finally find my way around the CBC and land the career of a lifetime; first as an assistant cameraman on TV dramas and documentaries, later as a cinematographer. They sent me around the world filming at the far reaches of humanity, and to the great capitals where I participated in the high life. I also became the youngest Director of Photography on major CBC TV dramas. When I was 36, I left the CBC to become a freelance director of photography and director, until I side-stepped the profession to start my own production business in 2002.

“Ever trust your future to a drunken conversation in a bar?” That line from “Billy Bishop Goes to War” was very much about my experience. I did trust my future to a conversation in a bar when I was 19 years old, and strangely, the Royal Canadian Legion where my life was changed, was the Billy Bishop Branch 176 in Kitsilano Beach, Vancouver.

I never saw that man again, but I knew what it was all about when I read the following saying:

“People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

When someone enters your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend; and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on either part, you may never see this person again. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done.

When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience, or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway); and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.”

It's the Circle of Life, Davy.

2010-03-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

I was sad to hear of the death of actor, winemaker, real-estate tycoon Fess Parker this past week. As an actor, he played a hero of mine back in the 1950s, and I expect many Boomers will remember him, not for being an actor, which he did exceptionally well, but for embodying the spirit of a movie hero and icon; Davy Crockett.

Which reminds me of a recent experience that reinforced the Circle of Life for me. This is when something, instigated many years before, can come back around to tap you on the shoulder later in life. Well, I had one of those experiences about three years back, and it was instigated by the 1955 Walt Disney movie, "Davy Crockett."

In 1955, I was a boy of six. We lived in Montreal and the fad that was circulating North America at the time was based on the film and the TV series: “Davy Crockett – King of the Wild Frontier.”

First there was the song:

Born on a mountain top in Tennessee,
Greenest state in the land of the free.
Raised in the woods so he knew every tree,
Killed him a B’ar (bear) when he was only three.
Davy, Davy Crockett King of the Wild Frontier.

We all learned the words and everyone in my school wanted to be Davy Crockett, with a raccoon-skin hat, buckskin clothes and the blunderbuss rifle. Even the kids in the neighborhood dressed like him, but I had my eyes set on something different. Every day when my mother walked me to school in Ville Saint-Laurent, the suburb where we lived, we would pass a certain shop and the only thing in the shop window was a puppet; a marionette of Davy Crockett hanging for all to see. Everyday I would stare at this marionette with it’s little coon-skin hat and buckskin clothes and a small, plastic guitar. I loved the idea of show business. Yes, even back then. This puppet was for me.

However, real life began to over take our family, as my parents were splitting up. And not long after, my Mother sent me to live in England with my grandparents. All was strange and I really didn’t know my grandparents. But that soon changed. When I opened my suitcase, can you imagine my eyes when I saw the Davy Crockett puppet my mother had bought for me?

"Who's that?" my grandfather asked.
"Davy," I replied.
And I started to sing the song.

“Born on a mountain top in Tennessee.
Greenest state in the land of the free.
Raised in the woods so he knew every tree,
Killed him a B’ar (bear) when he was only three.
Davy, Davy Crockett King of the Wild Frontier. “

My grandfather stopped me, “Bar?” he said. “He killed him a bar? Does that mean he was drinking at a bar at the age of three?”
“I think it means he killed a bear,” I replied.
“Killed a bear? At three? Bear, bar. Silly Americans,” he said.

Now, jump forward fifty-two years into the future, to 2007, when I lived in Studio City, California. I was invited to a business luncheon where the Association of Fundraising Professionals were having their annual National Philanthropy Day. I go to many business luncheons, so this was another rubber-chicken lunch for me. As a matter of fact, it was at the Sportsmen’s Lodge in Studio City, so the chicken had bounced many times on the way to my plate.

I was trying to stomach eating when the Master of Ceremonies started to talk about himself. His name was Bill Hayes. He was a TV soap opera actor. But then he talked about his early career and this sparked my interest. He was a young session singer and musician in Hollywood back in 1955, and during a recording session, a producer raced into the studio and said:

“Hey, Bill, please record this song. No one else wants to record it and it may become a hit. It’s for Disney.”

He did record it (one take) and it became a huge hit. The name of the song was “Davy Crockett - King of the Wild Frontier”.

Well, I was in awe of Bill Hayes. I remembered the song our whole Montreal neighborhood had sung, and I went up to him at the end of the program and shook his hand.

“Mr Hayes,” I said. “I just want to thank you for being such a significant part of my life as a kid.”

I told him that I tried to teach my English grandparents to sing his song, and that he had made quite the impression on me. He was very gracious. But I did notice him looking at me as if to say, "You don’t look much younger than me."

When I got home that night, I reached into an old storage case and dug out my Davy Crockett marrionette/puppet. He has been my mascot all my life. I sat him on my desk top and the weathered, old doll began to play the song that I had sung as a six year old. Those words that Bill Hayes had sung back in 1955, introducing Fess Parker as Davy Crockett.

“Born on a mountain top in Tennessee.

Greenest state in the land of the free.

Raised in the woods so he knew every tree,

Killed him a B’ar (bear) when he was only three.

Davy, Davy Crockett King of the Wild Frontier. “

Sometimes the “Circle of Life” comes right back to pat you on the back fifty years on, to say, “Hello, old friend, remember me?”

I'm sure the death of Actor Fess Parker this week was a sad moment for all of us Baby Boomers whose lives touched that era of Davy Crockett so intimately, those many years ago.

“Davy was an interesting thing to live with.”
- Fess Parker

"Fame is like a shaved pig with a greased tail, and it is only after it has slipped through the hands of some thousands, that some fellow, by mere chance, holds on to it."
- Davy Crockett

"Never let the facts get in the way of telling a good story."
- Walt Disney

Olympics are over.

2010-02-28T16:33:00.000-08:00

Well, they’re over: The 2010 Winter Olympic Games in our home city of Vancouver, Canada.

It was such a long awaited, anticipated event with such mixed emotion from the people who live here. Now it’s over, in a blink of time. We know of many who left town to bask on a tropical island while renting out their houses for a small fortune for two weeks. Others swapped houses with people of foreign lands. So they missed it, the wonderful excitement of it all. Because no matter what you think of a circus coming to town, or your city hosting the biggest party in the world, the atmosphere itself is something to bask in.

We played our part. We attended the opening event; ski jumping at the brand new Whistler Olympic Park. We also attended the preliminary pairs figure skating at the Pacific Coliseum where the Chinese couple began their skate for Olympic gold. Throughout the games we were glued to the High Definition TV, broadcasting on a 24-hour schedule. NBCs “Today” show built their facilities high on Grouse Mountain, and CTV broadcast all day every day with their affiliated stations. We could watch almost every run and re-run of each Olympic win all day and all night.

The opening ceremonies were spectacular. We were on the edge of our seats wondering how this opening event could ever compete with the standards set by the 2008 Beijing Summer Games, especially in the relatively small, BC Place stadium. But they did it. It was sensational and distinctly Canadian. When the Games started, we needed snow badly up on Cypress Mountain. It was warm. British writers said that this was the worst games ever. But we got the snow and we won gold medals up there. During the first week, Canadian officials were worried that we were not winning as many medals as we should. But by the second week, the athletes were proving they were great in every sport. Canada won gold, and we won more gold and more medals than ever before. There was victory, there was pride in achievement and pride in country.

Then there was the Canada vrs. USA hockey matches. The first one Canada lost. This gave them the practice to beat the others teams in the running and come back to go for gold with the USA. What a match. All the country was watching. Hockey is not just a sport in Canada, it’s a religion that unifies this diverse nation. Canada won and the nation celebrated and basked in the glory. In all, Canada won: 14 Gold, 7 silver and 5 bronze medals, an Olympic record for any country winning gold and a Canadian record medal count of 26.

We sang the national anthem more than any other time. Patriotism. Moments. Magic filled the air, and Canadians came together with excitement and enthusiasm, cheering our teams and politely acknowledging and sometimes cheering another country’s win. We bought the clothes: The toques and the now world-famous mitts. Vancouver was splashed with red and white and Olympic Hudson Bay clothes everywhere. The Olympic spirit was embraced by the whole country. What an exciting time to be here. What a glorious experience.

And the ones who left? They probably returned and their lives were none the wiser, having missed life itself: The greatest show on earth.

“Hockey is not a sport in Canada. It’s a cult.”
 - Brian Burke. (USA men’s team GM)

“The first thing is to love your sport. Never do it to please someone else. It has to be yours.” 
- Peggy Fleming (American figure skater, 1968 Winter Olympics)

"What is next? I don't know. Sleep, and then take on the world."
-  Shaun White (American snowboarder , after he won gold)

Olympics are here.

2010-02-12T17:53:00.000-08:00

As a kid growing up in England, I loved to watch the Olympic Games on TV, but then I discovered the Winter Olympics and I was even more enthralled. I’d watch the bobsled, the skating and the downhill skiing, but the thrill for me was the ski jumping. These men on wide wooden skis would go hurtling down high mountain runs and steep ramps at ultra fast speeds, then throw themselves into the air with a whoosh and a simple elegance that turned them into flying angels. They seemed to stand on air for an endless time until gravity would glide them gently to land, with graceful flair on the snow at the end of their flight. This was magic to me. All hands would raise from the crowd and people would cheer for the victor. Wow, I couldn’t wait to watch the Winter Games every four years.

To me, the Winter Olympics were always in more exotic places than the Summer games. Places like: Innsbruck Switzerland, Sapporo Japan and Sarajevo Yugoslavia. They even came to Calgary Alberta, and at one time I thought of learning to ski. I went to a junior slope near where I lived, but found out the hard way that my ski laden feet wanted to go in different directions. For the sake of my profession, I decided then and there that I didn’t need broken legs, muscles or limbs to impede a life’s work that I loved.

I never thought of going to the Games until I saw the spectacular TV coverage from the 1992 games in Albertville France and then the 1994 games in Lillehammer Norway. Lillehammer is such a small town, yet they invited the world to the biggest party on Earth. And they built a spectacular Olympic Stadium at the base of the ski jump. This is where they held the opening and closing ceremonies and I was glued. From that time on, I dreamed of one day attending the Winter games. Well, time passed and the games were in places I just didn’t want to go, or I couldn’t break away from my busy schedule. But this year, the Winter Olympic Games came to me.

Today, we attended the first event of the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympic Games at the newly constructed Olympic Park near Whistler British Columbia. And guess what? This event was the Ski Jumping I had dreamed of experiencing.

Olympic security in Vancouver is horrendous for normal citizens. They advise, “be early.” We were up at 3 am to catch the 5 am, two hour bus drive, north to the park. It was unfortunately dark, because we were driving past some of the most spectacular British Columbia scenery on the Sea to Sky highway. From there we cleared through security and hiked to the brand new Olympic Ski Jump where only a month before someone had broken a world record.

Spectacular. We were high in the Coastal Mountains. The air was brisk. Being there was a thrill. The athletes in colourful, tight costumes were speeding down the slope, jumping through the air and flying down the mountain to a grounding on the packed snow with the greatest of ease, skill and feelings. The enthusiast crowd cheered for each of the jumpers but the best athletes shone. Good ski jumping is about the fine art of balance, and a total body awareness and a feeling for the air and wind currents make this sport an art. This day they were creating great art at great speed.

Ski Jumping is dangerous as are most Olympic sports, and accidents happen when an athlete will make one fatal slip while hurtling through the air at endless speed. Today was good for ski jumping. Not so fortunate for a young Luge athlete from Georgia who died while on a practice run at the newly built Whistler run. The fastest track in the world. A sad moment indeed.

Today my Olympic thrill brought many emotions.

“Champions aren't made in the gyms. Champions are made from something they have deep inside them -- a desire, a dream, a vision.”
Muhammad Ali

“Becoming an Olympian is the ultimate reward for any athlete.”
Michael Diamond

“I just wanted to be an athlete.”
Merlin Olsen

Marriage

2010-01-28T10:30:00.000-08:00

January 28th, 2010

Just got married. Not for the first time; this was my third marriage. And I did it for no other reason but love.

Some get married to have children. I never did. Not this time either. My first wife and I were in love; she was twenty nine, I was twenty five. We knew the day of the wedding we shouldn’t be doing it. We just knew it wouldn’t last. We were married in a lovely, picture-perfect, little church in Unionville, Ontario. It couldn’t have been better. She couldn’t have children. Our marriage lasted three years. We broke up because we couldn’t see any reason to go on with a relationship that was adversarial. We didn’t see each other again and I was sorry to learn that she died at the age of sixty.

My second wife and I loved each other and we got married on Elbow Beach in Bermuda. We were both the same age, forty. A fairy tale wedding. Just the minister and two witnesses from the hotel desk, and us. As the minister pronounced us married, we were suddenly bathed by the sound of polite applause. Astounded, we turned around. Behind us, on the once empty beach, was a large group of people who had gathered to watch in their swim suits. The marriage lasted ten years. At first we tried to have children, but we had a miscarriage. Eventually we drifted apart intimately. We are still good friends.

This, my third marriage, was on a small ferry boat on the waters of Vancouver, British Columbia. We are in love. When we first visited Vancouver together, we rode the ferry across to Grenville Island, a tourist attraction with a great fresh food market. When we decided to get married we wanted to make it truly memorable. We rented one of the Granville Island ferry boats and set sail, or motored, under the bridges of False Creek and out to the beautiful waters that surround Vancouver at English Bay. There we exchanged our marriage vows and native carved wedding rings with a couple of friends and soon to be stepson.

All my marriages have been memorable with truly lovely women. I have been exceptionally lucky to know each one of them and I have learned so much from each. What was missing with the first two was a stable relationship. I would never have married again if I thought it wouldn’t work this time. Love is good, but marriage is so much more.

For me, this marriage means stability in love, in a relationship, a truly giving partnership with my best friend. We plan to travel more, to share our lives in a lasting and respectful way, to share each others qualities in a close relationship, and to focus on keeping our marriage successful and diverse. We are very comfortable with each other. This time our marriage will succeed, because this time we plan to stay in love.

"Love seems the swiftest but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century."
- Mark Twain

"Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years."
- Simone Signoret

"Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can't sleep with the window open."
- George Bernard Shaw

Curiosity

2010-01-23T12:06:00.000-08:00

If there’s one thing I could say to the world’s youth that could guide them through a life of quality living and adventure, it would be to develop a curiosity for the world, it’s diversity and it’s humanity, and to develop, nurture and grow their creativity.

Some of us are attracted to interests or hobbies where we can be curious from a young age. I was lucky, I was always an observer of life, so curiosity and creativity have been an ingrained part of me. And when I needed to find a profession, it was a natural progression to study photography and then film making as a vocation. This, in turn, became a profession that helped me grow as a human being and film making/storytelling became an extension of who I am. However, many young people I come across today in their teens or early twenties have absolutely no idea what they want to do with their lives.

From a particular point of view, there are overbearing forces that all of us have been exposed to, even over exposed to. Whether from family or community, these are forces we must all learn to moderate or break free from in order to find that individual and personal passion for our own lives.

We are born into a world nurtured by our family and everything is placed in front of us. From the beginning, we are surrounded by the opinions of others and we are indoctrinated to be part of our immediate family. We are given the love of family, community and country, and for all we know, that’s all there is. We never give it a second thought. We may grow up Christian or we may be born into a Jewish home or one of the many other religions, or not. Our parents may speak: French or Chinese or English, and we naturally learn their language so we can communicate. If our parents love a particular kind of music, then music is pressed on our souls. If politics in the household is leaning heavily to one side or the other, we may be influenced by those ideas. If our father is a business man, we may be asked to take over the family business one day. If our parents are strong willed, then we may be under their influence for our whole lives. So dogma and indoctrination of some sort are impressed upon us continually. And to find our way in the world, out of all these influences toward becoming a free thinker, is very difficult. Yet, the successful among us break free to lead wonderful lives of our own creation. What we are, are individuals. We are not what people try to mold us into. We are certainly not what we are born into. We have the freedom to discover who we really are, yet, few of us realize this.

Think on that for a moment.

Growing up and breaking free to be are own selves is the most difficult thing each of us will ever encounter. We will stumble. We will want to return to the comforts of home. But we will realize that we have moved on. We will come to know that for self survival, we must move out even further to reclaim ourselves. It takes guts to break from the pack, from our families, our community, our allegiances and loyalties, our childhood friends and sometimes our countries. But we must create our own home. This is why it is so difficult.

Curiosity can drive us: We ask questions. We learn from the people we talk with outside our sphere of influence. We are confronted by new ideas from the books we read, quality TV shows we watch, the people we meet or places we visit. From these sparks of information we become curious about the wider world. Our souls wake up, we come truly alive and we come to the realization that we are free to think for ourselves. Our curiosity asks us: Who am I? What makes me tick? With what ideas am I really comfortable? What music do I really like? How can I truly live my life in the comfort of my own sensibilities? How can I contribute with my own identity?

We all have a need to belong. It’s a longing that we all have deep within us. But we must find our own community. To survive, we must realize that out in the world, beyond our brains, beyond the indoctrination and brain washing and cultural comfort, something is there to help us find ourselves: Our curiosity, our creativity, our “being.”

What makes us successful individuals is our curiosity for new and exciting experiences. And to make those experiences work, we must use our imagination and our creativity to constantly shape and mold ourselves, and reinvent if we must. And curiosity will help us go further than we could ever imagine.

“Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning.”
- William Arthur Ward

“When you're curious, you find lots of interesting things to do.”
- Walt Disney

“It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.”
- Albert Einstein

“Curiosity about life in all of its aspects, I think, is still the secret of great creative people.”
- Leo Burnett

The Test of Time

2009-12-04T16:37:00.000-08:00

In December 2005, I was asked to give a speech about Christmas. Well, after some soul searching I decided to talk, not about Christmas itself, but about the longevity of a message. It’s about storytelling and how one story survived the Test of Time. It’s about a young Jewish man, a rabbi who claimed to be the “Son of God.”

Today, claiming to be the son of a diety doesn’t sound so unusual because we all claim to be the sons or daughters of our maker - the great universe - our God. But two thousand years ago this was quite an outrageous claim because no one ever claimed to be the “Son of God” before, and to be so emphatic and insistent about it, well, it was blasphemy.

But this young man’s claim was taken to heart by a select group of people who also took his teachings to heart. That his teachings were of such great consequence, this must have been a very special man, worthy of greatness. He was charismatic and he spoke a different message from the other rabbi’s of his culture. And his message was: “God is within us all.” Quite different indeed.

The story, we hear, tells that he was of the people, born in a stable, visited by men, perhaps kings from the east, carrying many presents: gold, frankincense and the essence called myrrh. It was a sight to behold. This little baby surrounded by goats, and sheep and cows and kings; in fact surrounded by life itself.

The story then heads into obscurity for many years. We don’t know if he was a contentious teenager or a spoiled brat. But we do hear that he learned to be a carpenter and a rabbi, that he became a teacher and a preacher, until eventually capital punishment caught up with him. Some followers called him the "Son of God" and others called him "King of the Jews," but this went against Roman law. He was accused of being a rebel rouser, of being a dissenter of the basic rules of his own culture, and of course, blasphemy. He also was accused of sedition against Roman law. He was flogged, abused and crucified.

Not many great stories survive the Test of Time because not much was ever written down in ancient times. Or if it was, it was most likely written in a single volume that could be lost or destroyed. Of course, story telling in speeches and fireside chats has long been passed down through the generations. But the followers of this charismatic man specifically set out to spread his story. Then there were others.

One new follower picked up the story not to long after it happened, and he believed in it. This man, Saul of Tarses, was a soldier who hunted down followers of the rabbi to kill them, until one day on the road to Damascus he experienced an epiphany; a sudden bright light of spiritual inspiration. He then lay down his sword, changed his name to Paul and became a follower himself. Later to be known as Saint Paul, he made it his quest to spread the WORD of the young rabbi as far away as he could. He wrote about him and his aim was to transform his memory into something greater.

So was it legend, embellished pontification or just good storytelling that it has come through the centuries to us? The story survived the Romans, through the Dark Ages, through the Renaissance in a big way. It survived kings and kingdoms and great powers and wars. And it caused wars. And every time they fought a war about it, it spread more. Again, it’s a compelling story of this good man from the Middle East who was born and was executed in Israel at the time of the Roman occupation, and who, in a very few years compiled such a resume of great teachings. Those teachings along with the Jewish Bible, became the essence of the literature of mankind. A remarkable accomplishment for a remarkable story.

Why did the story survive? Well, there was more to it. There was magic that grabbed the hearts of the masses. It had panache, kings, inept kings, peace and violence. Oh! Such violence. It had miracles and enchantment, love and sex. No, sorry, no sex. And this is where the story gets it's impetus. Because the story told that he was born of a virgin mother; that an angel came and told her that she would have a child. The story also told that during his life he performed miracles: Walking on water, turning water into wine, healing people, raising people from the dead. And after he died on the cross, he arose from the dead to motivate his friends to go out and preach about his teachings. However, there was something else. If it wasn’t for the two divine related magical occurrences, the virgin birth and his resurrection from the dead, the whole story of this young man may never have survived this long.

As the story moved from man to legend, Saint Paul, Saint Peter and others turned this simple story from a Jewish sect, into a break-away religion called Christianity. They thought so highly of the claim of this man from Israel, that he, indeed, was the “Son of God”, that they deemed him to be the Savour, a Christ, which means: both God and Man "the Messiah" sent to save the human race from sin. So the birth of this man was celebrated as a Christian Mass. Hence, Christ Mass or Christmas. And the religion spread to Rome where after much slaughter and blood spilled, three hundred years later it was finally given legitimacy by Emperor Constantine to become an official Roman church.

Again, I am not talking religion. I am simply trying to explain how a simple story lasted through the ages to become the most well known story on earth.

Through the Middle Ages, the Roman church of the followers of this preacher employed many monks to translate the story into books known as bibles. They sat in the back rooms of their churches and monasteries writing up great words of story, poetry, songs and prayers, and great embellishments to make it even greater. And like most stories, there were mistakes made when translating from one language to another. From the original Aramaic language to Greek, to Roman, to German, to English. It took so much time to hand write these volumes that there weren’t many of them made.

But the word spread anyway, to the day in 1452 when a man named Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press and the press was used to make two hundred copies of this book, this bible, and then they made more. The story spread to the farthest reaches of humanity. Spread by believers sent to tell their tale of their faith in the story.

It’s a story that was passed through the centuries, through the cultures and peoples. Every religion and every human on the face of the earth has heard this story. And this story has survived for over two thousand years, sent down to us, to you and me, in a very personal way with words of wisdom, of metaphors and inspirations, of motivations and great courage. It tells of how to be a good person and how to get along with people. These are the traditions of great storytellers; that to get the point across we must tell a story well and from the heart, grab the emotion and tell something that people can relate to, and be in AWE of.

This story also caught the imaginations of many artists, and it’s the artists who reflect on society of the times; the magnificent churches and cathedrals built across Europe, the wonderful inspirational music of Beethoven, Handel, Mozart, Schubert, Bach and Jingle Bells. The stain glass, the paintings and all this combined with the Jewish celebration of lights (Hanukkah), the pagan celebration of winter solstice and the decorated trees from Germany. And who can forget St. Nicholas, the giver of gifts, who was enrolled in this celebration as Santa Clause (Saint Nicholas).

So, all this celebration from many cultures came to magnify the story of Christmas as we know it. And all around the world this story has taken over to add color and life at this bleak, cold, sleepy time of year. Shop decorations of red, white and green, the great Santa Clause parades, the homes full of Christmas trees, lights and treats, of turkey and mistletoe, kids faces and grandmother cookies.

And through all this, the message of this young Jewish man prevails. It still shines through. This man who wanted to tell us that to be good is to be of the universe, of your God. Who ever that may be.

This is the story of civilization. The universal message of good over evil and the celebration of life. A baby who brought us the birth of change, of spring, of hope for the world. And that’s what makes the story so compelling. It’s so simple.

In the end, as good storytellers know; "It's all about the story." That to tell a good story will always propel the message forward. And hopefully the truth, or an interpretation of it, is in the simplicity of the message itself.

This message also has a call to action. Peace on Earth - Good will to all.

At this very special time of year, the message from me is that no matter what holiday you celebrate or what your faith is, may I wish you a very happy holiday season.

And to all, a goodnight.

"The destiny of the world is determined less by the battles that are lost and won than by the stories it loves and believes in."
- Harold Goddard

"All human beings have an innate need to hear and tell stories and to have a story to live by ... religion, whatever else it has done, has provided one of the main ways of meeting this abiding need."
- Harvey Cox, The Seduction of the Spirit

"Stories are the creative conversion of life itself into a more powerful, clearer, more meaningful experience. They are the currency of human contact."
- Robert McKee

Global Warming

2009-11-16T11:37:00.001-08:00

November 16/2009

Recently I took part in an on-line poll at Facebook, that asked: “Is global warming a myth?” I was astonished to learn just how many people, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, actually thought that global warming is a myth. The poll numbers were astounding: 49% YES, 46% NO and 5% DIDN'T CARE. This triggered the following response from me.

“For so many people on this poll not to understand the nature of this world is overwhelming. They all must live in cities where they think of nature as some far off distant planet or be totally ignorant and uncaring about learning about something so significant. Yes, global warming is happening and it doesn't take much to travel to where you can see it first hand. Please open your minds and learn something. And learn that you can do something about it by intelligent research and acting to help the people trying to keep the ecosystems that keep us alive, working. Stupidity is not bliss.”

While I know this poll is not scientific and most polls on Facebook usually attract a certain amount of juvenility, I still find the response incredible, if for no other reason than almost sixty thousand people participated in the poll. Can the 49% who voted YES, all be that ignorant, or uneducated or are they just playing the devil-may-care attitude and having fun with others on Facebook?

Some approach the subject as political, but global warming is not a political matter. It is a human matter comprised of real science, and most scientists are extremely worried about the time it is taking for some governments to understand and work toward trying to solve the problem. This is an impending danger to all humanity on the planet. And the sooner everyone in all countries know this, and gets working on a solution, the better prepared we will be to minimize global destruction by taking extreme measures to slow the process. And as long as it is being politicized, people on the skeptical side of the issue will continue to sway many unthinking and uninterested people into believing that this is all a hoax.

Reason and rational thought are a product of the maturing mind, which combines research and investigation to discover the rationalization of truth; i.e. discovering mathematical theory or reading a map to find your way around the globe, or learning to boil an egg. The ancient Greeks believed that our soul has two parts: an Irrational part with emotions and desires, and a Rational part, which is our true self. So before we humans can understand the world, we first need to understand ourselves, through rational thought and moral development. In doing so, we compel ourselves to seek our own integrity and the truth. However, when we don’t do the research, and we act with our emotions and desires (wishing for another outcome), we fail to see the ‘forest for the trees’ and we tend to bypass the truth. Thus, we can remain ignorant of something that, for the sake of a little research, is within our own grasp.

The truth of global warming is out there for all to see. The science is logged for all to read. The evidence is ready for all to explore. Yet, too many people continue to hinge on the side of misinformation and they keep themselves intentionally ignorant. They are willing to accept what they are told without question.

As science has improved, the detection of global warming has found that we are accelerating toward catastrophic consequences for our planet. Those of us who do realize what is happening are getting more worried. Hence, the real message needs to be stronger to educate the skeptics and the uninformed. Because, if we fail the earth, we fail humanity.

Life as we know it is going to change drastically in the next few years. And just as there aren't many people left who think the earth is flat, it won't be long before everyone will know that global warming is real. We will all be able to see it in our own front yards. I just hope it will not be too late to save the billions of people who will be displaced, hurt or wiped out in the process.

My hope is that at least some part of humanity will be saved from this horrendous consequence of misguided and mismanaged technology gone wrong, and our knowledge, past and present, will be available for future generations.

"Global warming is too serious for the world any longer to ignore its danger or split into opposing factions on it."
- Tony Blair

"We have many advantages in the fight against global warming, but time is not one of them. Instead of idly debating the precise extent of global warming, or the precise timeline of global warming, we need to deal with the central facts of rising temperatures, rising waters, and all the endless troubles that global warming will bring. We stand warned by serious and credible scientists across the world that time is short and the dangers are great. The most relevant question now is whether our own government is equal to the challenge."
- John McCain

"With all of the hysteria, all of the fear, all of the phony science, could it be that man-made global warming is the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people? It sure sounds like it."
- James Inhofe

"Believe nothing just because a so-called wise person said it. Believe nothing just because a belief is generally held. Believe nothing just because it is said in ancient books. Believe nothing just because it is said to be of divine origin. Believe nothing just because someone else believes it. Believe only what you yourself test and judge to be true."
- Buddha

"People tend to focus on the here and now. The problem is that, once global warming is something that most people can feel in the course of their daily lives, it will be too late to prevent much larger, potentially catastrophic changes.
- Elizabeth Kolbert

"To gain that which is worth having, it may be necessary to lose everything else."
- Bernadette Devlin

Celestial Lighthouse

2009-11-10T21:08:00.000-08:00

Spring/1992

The tall lighthouse greets the night, it’s full mission on earth realized.

Like the ticking of an endless clock, the light beacon flashes through space and time, shining far across the miles of ocean moods. Never ceasing, never still. Bright illumination roving and searching and attracting and warning, far from it's own imprisonment on the tiny, lonely rock it calls home. Solitary in it's own importance of coastal navigation.

Through light, darkness, summer storm and winter blizzard, time marches and life keeps pace. Physiological clocks tick eroding the short passage of a human age. Year after year the only constant is change. Seasonal moods change with the tilt of the planet and the call of the wind.

Night envelops the moment and the crisp clear sky unveils forever. As if riding across the milky way on another world one can reach out to the universe and the star clusters just beyond grasp. Across the cosmos, time and space is infinite. Time has no beginning, no end. Eons pass undisturbed in the stillness.

On planet Earth time travelers measure the moments of human existence based on the daily revolution of the globe and Earth's trip around the heavens. The globe turns and the cold blue of twilight undresses the dawn.

And still the great light revolves.

A faint hue of orange glows across the hemispheres, strengthening as the great ball of sunshine rears it's head out of the cold ocean like a hungry dragon bursting fiery light toward land, beginning it's ascent and celestial journey across the sky to light the new day.

Thus the reason for the lighthouse is extinguished until night returns and the great cycle is resumed.

"You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old."
- George Burns

"...and you finish off as an orgasm.”
- George Carlin

The years teach much which the days never knew."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Anythin' for a quiet life, as the man said when he took the situation at the lighthouse”
- Charles Dickens

Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
- Robert Browning

96 hours

2009-11-03T08:22:00.000-08:00

It was a journey outside the boundaries of North America, outside the comforts of home, outside the civilization that we know, to where the rest of the world does not live as comfortably as we live. The whole experience was just 96 hours, a long weekend, a drop in the bucket. But it’s an experience that will live with me for the rest of my life, and it challenged me to try to inspire people, with my talents, to help others.

For many years I traveled the globe as a documentary film maker with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. I was sent to the farthest reaches of humanity, to places you’d never heard of where we’d spend two or three weeks filming a story. We’d get to know people intimately: we live with them, eat their food and film their life styles. Then we’d be yanked back to civilization, never to see these people again except on the films we produced about them.

We went to the rich places and we went to the poor places. Each had their charms. But that was many years ago. In the mean time, my career took me filming television drama and feature films and now corporate video. So the journeys ceased for quite a while, until 2005 when I got “deja vous all over again.” And the feelings of the experience returned.

We landed at just after six in the morning. It was hot and muggy in this Central American country, with the aroma of fresh flowers drifting across the sunrise. We were on a mission with a group of Rotary Clubs from around the Los Angeles area so they could see what was happening to the dollars they had been contributing to individual charities they were supporting. Fourteen clubs and each club had different charity, and each was a subject/a problem, to grab at your heart strings. What I saw was personally awe inspiring.

El Salvador is a country of about six million people, the smallest of the Central American countries. There are two rows of volcanoes that cross the country from east to west and some of them are still active. On the others, people are active because on the slopes that hot lava used to roll down is the best type of soil to grow coffee.

Coffee. The energy boost of the western world. It’s this El Salvador coffee that ends up in places like Starbucks. Yes, we pay a fortune for something that was hand picked by a group of coffee harvesters who have barely two cents to rub together. No, the poor don’t get the great gobs of money that we lay out for our caffeine fix. No, they don’t even have proper facilities high up on those lava slopes. They even have to send their young daughters walkng for hours down the mountain sides for fresh daily bread. And the reason they send their daughters is so their sons can go to school to have an education.

A Rotary Club from Downey California, who had originally given a bakery oven to over 300 or more coffee harvesters in one plantation, were now seeing their money go toward fresh daily bread. The day we were there they baked us a pizza. Rotary are now supplying six more bakeries along the coffee slopes, along the mountain sides, and their daughters are now getting an education.

Across the country past a long row of volcanoes to the east, lies the remote town of San Miguel where another Rotary Club is funding a hospital. Inside the operating theatre, a team of doctors from North America are creating miracles.

The problem with all out poverty is malnutrition and debilitating diseases, and the people who suffer most are the children. Dragging around in the dirt unable to even hobble to school, some blind others with club feet, stricken with polio or other such plights including some hurt from stepping on landmines left over from the savage civil war a few years ago. But there’s hope, as some of these kids are given a new lease on life when Rotary supported doctors straighten out their feet or clean up their sores. And they get up, they can hop, they can walk and run and play. They can even go to school to learn because just down the road another Rotary project is funding an eye clinic started by wealthy and concerned women who saw the need.

Sight is our window on our world and the eye clinics are helping bring these wonders to people everywhere. To poor school children who need glasses. Here the Rotary Club of LA is a prime funder. And they are making a difference helping kids to just be kids.

A film maker, like a journalist looks for a good story to tell and people helping children of the world is a wonderful humanitarian story to bring to everyone. In 1985, Rotary International committed itself to immunizing all children around the world against polio.

With 1.2 million members in 166 countries, Rotary has been the largest private-sector contributor to the polio eradication campaign worldwide. Over 600 million dollars has been spent and it is working. By the end of 2006 polio could be gone. A remarkable accomplishment.

Remarkable? Just a few years ago the Wheelchair Foundation was established and as of today they have delivered hundreds of thousands of wheelchairs around the world. In many places Rotary International has teamed up with the Wheelchair foundation to share the costs.

“In compassion lies the world’s strength.” Or so the Buddha said. The feelings, oh! the feelings when filming someone in need being helped into a wheelchair for the first time in their life. A child smiling and crying at the same time. They speak a different language, but they communicate as they grab on to their helpers with appreciation in their eyes. Oh! the joy, the exhilaration, the experience, first hand. Somehow, being a documentary film maker and showing these acts of kindness makes life worth living.

That is some of my journey to El Salvador. It was 96 hours. A long weekend. But a life changing moment that inspired me to use my talents as a film maker to help people in need.

From this trip, I produced the multi-award winning film "Rotary Helping Children of the World in El Salvador" and two subsequent films, "Mission to Costa Rica - What is a Rotarian" while in Costa Rica and "A World of Peace and Understanding - Arch Klumph" while in Panama. These three films were offered to the Rotary clubs of the Los Angeles district for recruitment, inspiration and as a call to action for Rotarians who, on mass, have the power to change the world for the better.

"It is every man's obligation to put back into the world at least the equivalent of what he takes out of it."
- Albert Einstein

"Anticipate charity by preventing poverty; assist the reduced fellow man, either by a considerable gift or a sum of money or by teaching him a trade or by putting him in the way of business so that he may earn an honest livelihood and not be forced to the dreadful alternative of holding out his hand for charity. This is the highest step and summit of charity's golden ladder.
- Maimonides

“He who obtains has little. He who scatters has much.”
- Lao-Tzu

Monty Python and being silly

2009-10-29T15:35:00.000-07:00

Congratulations Monty Python on the occasion of your 40th anniversary.

My first impression of Monty Python’s Flying Circus was to wonder what all the fuss was about. To me, these guys weren’t very funny, they were just a wild bunch of juvenile and amateurish grown-ups acting silly, like I used to do at school.

The school kids in England, where I grew up, were all silly. We used to do the silly walks and play around with stuffed birds, like the parrot sketch, way before Python was ever thought of. In fact, those of us who were arty and who liked theatre were even sillier. It was really quite normal to act silly in England, to talk in puns and to be able to banter back and forth in non sequiturs and (almost clever) funny, non sensical dialogue. However, I remember one of our teachers telling us that as maturity was a major part of learning and growing up, we shouldn’t be acting like silly girls. “Get to it lads, and act like real men.” Of course, in North America (USA and Canada) boys were taught to be macho. Build your muscles, pretend you like stupid sports, don’t become like a sissy or you’ll be beaten up in the school yard. But it could be like that in England too, where somehow silliness was accepted. When I moved to North America in 1969, I put away some of my childish things and as I worked my way up in the film and entertainment business, I became more serious.

As for Monte Python, even though some of my friends were rolling in laughter at films like The Holy Grail, I really didn’t appreciate their style until I saw The Life of Brian in 1979. By that time it was ten years later and I was now into my profession as a cinematographer in Canada, and I began to appreciate any movie that was different from the regular Hollywood fare. I loved foreign films and I especially loved French films. Then a girl friend dragged me to see The Life of Brian. Well, who can fault a movie where the theme is to always look on the bright side of life? This was my attitude entirely. And the silliness? Well, I'd missed it.

The film parallels the story of Jesus but it takes us on a different journey, to follow the life of another individual who people want to flock to as a leader. Here we see a population who can't seem to think for themselves. They must have a Messiah to follow and they think they have found one in Brian (no relation). But Brian isn't interested in being their Messiah.

My favorite line is when a crowd calls for Brian to come to the window and show himself. His mother opens the window and tells the crowd: "He's not the Messiah, he's a very naughty boy."

It was great to laugh at situations that, when seen from the Python’s satirical point-of-view, were quite nutty and funny. I no longer minded the silliness. The film focused on humanities longing to belong and to follow a leader. We are all sheep. We must flock and we must follow. We are all constantly searching for that Messiah to lead us. And yes, we see it in the modern world where good leadership is quite deficient. The crowds roar together, "Yes, we are individuals." "Yes, we must think for ourselves." But do we?

The film reinforced my philosophy as a free thinker and I will always thank the Python’s for that. Blessed are the free thinkers.

I have now learned to appreciate the Python series and when last in Las Vegas, we loved Spamalot. Yes, congratulations to Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Terry Gillium, Michael Palin, John Cleese and Graham Chapman. Thank you for showing the world that we can all let our hair down and be really silly.

“Silly is you in a natural state, and serious is something you have to do until you can get silly again.”
- Mike Myers

“If I can get you to laugh with me, you like me better, which makes you more open to my ideas. And if I can persuade you to laugh at the particular point I make, by laughing at it you acknowledge its truth.”
- John Cleese

"We don't deliberately set out to offend. Unless we feel it's justified."
- Graham Chapman

"I always wanted to be an explorer, but - it seemed I was doomed to be nothing more than a very silly person."
- Michael Palin

Free Thinker

2009-10-24T20:44:00.000-07:00

October 24/2009

I don’t think I could ever be just a Liberal or just a Conservative or just anything. That idea goes against everything I hold dear. My freedom. Freedom to be a free thinker.

To be so one-sided and closed about differing ideas and opinions, no matter how good, well-intentioned or true the party line claims to be, could not attract my total way of thinking or my loyalty. I am very curious and I need to know all sides of an issue. The world is not black and white. I see it in multi shades of colour. So, no, I firmly believe that I could never be so rigid so as to block out other opinions.

I do search for the truth of an issue, however difficult it is to find. But many people can’t change from one side to another, even if the truth hits them in the face; even if they are thinking or voting against their own self interests, even if they discover deception, lies and corruption. So, in effect, they are cutting themselves off from the freedom they were given: The freedom to think openly, rationally and with thoughtful reasoning.

Throughout most of our lives we’ve been told so many “truths” by others, and we mostly accept them without reason. But who are we not to question these “truths”, beliefs, prejudices and assumptions? Nothing is as it seems in this world. Nothing is cut and dried. When so many untruths are thrown around without people questioning, then individuals, corporations, political parties, religions, culture, governments, etc. corrupt or not, get away with telling you anything, and you will believe it.

Within us all, is a free thinker. It is what we were given by our maker.

The Universe. The big, wide, abundant, undiscovered, Universe. So is there life out there or not? I think we can presume that there is. But how far away? How long will it take to find, the others? And will they be like us?

We live on a planet brimming with life. Everywhere on the planet is alive with organisms and micro-organisms. We share this planet with life of all kinds: animals, fish, birds, bugs. micro-things we can’t see. We have also been given an intelligence, of sorts. By this I mean a built-in intelligence that governs the way we are; our genetics, our makeup, everything that keeps us going without us knowing. In fact, we have very little control over the way our bodies keep us alive, and all living creatures have this. It’s under our radar, like the battery in the Energizer Bunny.

All life is steadily employed. We all go about our daily lives programmed to live and to survive in whatever situation or climate we are given. And if that’s all we had, this simplistic complication of life, life on earth would be very simple. We would all be like robots, programmed to do whatever we were here to do. However, in all the Universe, as we know it, in all the world, in all our minds, we homo-sapiens, human beings, were given something extra. We were given the power of creativity.

More than the animals, more than the trees, the birds or the micro-organisms, we were given the power to think creatively. To analyze, to examine, to deduce and to reason. To come up with ideas and solutions, for everything.

It’s an extraordinary gift - to be able to think up ideas, to communicate with each other, to plan, to dream, to create whatever comes into our heads or our hearts. To create our own future with new ideas. The whole world is an open book for us to do and to be anything we want to be. Think of the endless possibilities and opportunities.

Yet, we get lazy. We want to do the same thing, the same job, meet the same people, listen to the same music, the same TV and worship the same religion and politics. And most of us do things just to "look good" to others. We find our comfort zone with the people who surround us, our community: culture, religion, politics, tribe. Then we conform and spout other people's opinions to "look good" to others in our tribe. We live in a sleeping state and we give up any potential for the opportunity with which we were born. We become robots without a reasoning brain. Unless something happens to shock us and wake us up.

So let's wake up and be.

I am espousing that we open up to our free thinking minds and be more curious about the world and it’s charms: Walk away from the small corners we choose to live in. We live in a mansion yet, we choose to live in a small dark corner of the basement of that mansion. We must be like the turtle and stick our neck out into the world and discover that it’s not such a scary place after all. More important, we must discover ourselves. Self discovery. Who are we? And once we discover who we are, who is our authentic self, we must embrace ourselves, open up to the real human experience we were given. We must open up to the world of discovery, to find our own world views, values, integrity. And our own voice. Then we can steer away from the small-minded, tribe mentality that rules our rigid ways and be open to the world and the Universe that has made us.

As free-thinking humans we can teach ourselves and others to be more creative, compassionate and thoughtfully open to new knowledge and intelligence. In this way, we set ourselves up to openly respond to the junk we are continually being fed, and make better choices and judgments based on our own awareness and reasoning of the things that concern us. So my call to action is: be curious, speak up, try new things, don't copy others, be inspired by others, be creative and don't just follow the crowd. Be the free thinker and the inspiration you were born to be.

“Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
- Oscar Wilde.

“Every human has four endowments- self awareness, conscience, independent will and creative imagination. These give us the ultimate human freedom... The power to choose, to respond, to change.”
- Stephen R. Covey

“These things will destroy the human race: Politics without principle, progress without compassion, wealth without work, learning without silence, religion without fearlessness and worship without awareness.”
- Anthony de Mello

“What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.”
- Abraham Maslow

The Third Man (favorite films)

2009-10-21T18:53:00.000-07:00

October 21/2009

Film Noir at it's best. A web of mystery and a begrimed adventure winds through shadow then light and back into shadow. An air of tension, ambiguity and corruption. Across a canvas of Vienna following WW2, American novelist Holly Martins, a pragmatist, innocent abroad, prances like a bull in search of veneer, only to find horrific meaning from the characters and the atmosphere of a bombed shell of a once great, yet now divided city. He came to see his friend, Harry Lime, a charismatic, charming friend who’s life seems to extend and captivate beyond his accidental death, but from the time Holly arrives he is being lead in search of Harry's ghost and is stabbing at shadows.

Then there's the girl. She loved Harry and she morns his allure. British Army Captain Calloway investigating Harry's death, finds Martins at Harry's funeral. He wants to know more but realizes Martins has nothing to offer. Martins is just a very ordinary guy getting mixed up in something so totally over his head, and Calloway wants him to leave Vienna before Martins succumbs to the danger of it all. However, as Martins learns more about Harry's death, certain inconsistencies begin to unravel. The story unwinds compelling him to stay and discover that truth and justice take on a greater meaning.

This is a great film with such atmosphere that old Vienna is a main character. And of course the ubiquitous zither music that never ceases. Fog, shadows, wet streets and underground tunnels are the background to this Graham Green fantasy. Well acted by Joseph Cotten, Trevor Howard, Alida Valli and of course Orson Welles playing Harry Lime. Graham Green's great story and screenplay, Carol Reed directing at his finest and the best cinematography by Robert Krasker.

The most famous line in the film has the self-righteous Harry Lime try to rationalize his own evil.

“In Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, bloodshed. They produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace. And what did they produce - the cuckoo clock.”

- Harry Lime (Orson Welles)

“The truth has never been of any real value to any human being - it is a symbol for mathematicians and philosophers to pursue. In human relations kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths.”

- Graham Green

"I started at the top and worked my way down."

- Orson Welles

Ten basic tips for a short video

2009-10-20T10:58:00.000-07:00

January 4/2009

Producing videos is a very competitive business and I’m often asked, “Why should I hire a production company to shoot my video rather than get a friend or a student with a camera to make my video for less money?”

Most people have no idea that getting someone to shoot a consistently well photographed, editable production with a camera and then edit the footage into a creative and succinct video that incorporates the nuance of story, feeling and character, is like asking a nurse to perform brain surgery or hiring a high school band to replace the Orpheum Symphony on Beethoven’s Ninth. There is a learned skill, creative talent, artistic flair and years of producing films and telling stories that come with a professional.

This being said, I will try to provide some tips and pointers on producing a short video. These ideas may help you understand ways to focus yourself toward creating something for an audience, and for you to find your own basic storytelling needs, and the needs of getting your message out in the best possible way.

One - Communication.
I belong to an organization called Toastmasters, which not only teaches people to get up and speak, but how to formulate a message through structure, theme and practice. The first speech manual is a foundation for good communication skills, and it guides people to think through how to formulate their first ten speeches. To me, these communication ideas are an excellent example and the cornerstone for making good videos, or presenting any kind of storytelling idea, display or performance. I modify them to illustrate the basic steps in learning to tell stories well.

The basic steps:
1. Break the ice with your audience and tell them who you are and what your message is.
2. Organize the structure of your story. Beginning, middle, end.
3. Get to the point and be succinct with your message and what are you trying to say.
4. Ensure your script is well written, delivered and your performance is proficient. Both as a film maker and whoever is on screen representing you. Remember to "direct" your on screen talent.
5. Your visual presentation should sparkle. How do you look and how do you present your ideas?
6. Tell your story by using a variety of emotions and feelings to grab your audience.
7. Research your topic well and give plenty of information. Get the facts and get them straight.
8. Be proficient with all the technical devices, camera, lights, editing software etc., and learn the creative side of photographic arts, editing arts and dramatic pacing.
9. Use powerful ideas to persuade your audience.
10. Inspire and motivate your audience. Make them want to come back for more.

Two - Story.
A film maker/video producer is a storyteller first. Know the story you want to tell. Know what you are trying to accomplish with your presentation. Know your audience. Although this all sounds very obvious to the experienced storyteller; many people don’t know what they are trying to say. What kind of ideas do you want to implant in your audience? What do you want them to take away from your message? Do you want to inspire them to be better, follow your teachings, carry your message to others? Find the significance of your message and work on inspiring the people who you want to receive and remember it. And remember, you do not have the option of boring people to death.

Three - Inspiration.
A communicator's job is to get a point across by inspiring his or her audience. As a film maker you must grab an audience with inspiring content (a good story), visuals, sounds, music and feeling. This is what a film, a video, a PowerPoint or any kind of presentation is: It is something for people to experience. And the way we all experience is through feelings. Grab at the heart of your idea and express it with passion and inspiration.

Four - Style.
An audience will make the first and the fastest impression about something based on what they see. The look of the subject is very important. You don't have to be Cirque du Soleil but it may help. In a corporate film, for example, is the person on camera dressed smartly? Do I trust this person? Do I trust this film maker? Is he or she communicating to me personally and visually? What are the colours of the backgrounds? What does it sound like? Are the locations speaking to me?

Five - Environment.
The environment is where you place your subject. What do you see behind your subject? The location. Are we in the desert, the ocean, the mountains? Do we see a view of a whole city outside a window in the background or is there a white wall? If there is a white wall, has it been lit and shaded so there are some shadows that contribute to a pleasing atmosphere? Do you have the opportunity to place your subject in the setting of your choosing? It doesn’t take much nudging to ask the subject to sit on a park bench or stand in an atrium with plants in the background; perhaps on a sofa or at the kitchen table. The point is, the world is filled with interesting environments that will help bring your video to life.

Six - Lighting.
Make sure your subject’s face is lit correctly. Invest in a lighting kit with at least three lights: Key light, fill light and back light. Bring the sparkle to their eyes. Bring the image quality up to standard with the help of lights. Among many things, there are two large stand-out things that make a bad production: The lack of good lighting and bad sound. No one goes out to make a bad video, but, THEY DO. Usually it’s because of ignorance and lack of control of the medium. There is no excuse not to invest in good lighting.

Seven - Sound.
Hearing is our second most important sense when it comes to participating as an audience. Hollywood spends a huge amount of money making sure that the soundtracks are up to excellent standards on their productions. In video, sound is much more than just hearing or listening; it is comprehension. Bad sound means bad production and audience dissatisfaction. Especially when it comes to recording a speech, an interview or an on camera personality, sound is (almost) everything; Invest in a good lapel/lavaliere microphone, clipped at about one foot from the subjects mouth, either with a long cord connecting to your camera or recorder, or a radio lapel/lavaliere microphone that lets your subject roam. Sound, like lights, must help sparkle the production. Invest wisely.

Eight - Camera.
Cameras and technologies come and go, and next week you will probably find a better camera for the same price that you bought your latest camera for last week. It doesn’t matter; Buy the best you can afford. Or rent the best you can afford. You need a camera that is going to give you good image quality. It should have a good optical zoom lens (not electronic zoom) and you should be able to alter the aperture and sound inputs separately (plug in a separate microphone). Also, invest in a good tripod with a fluid head. Steady pictures with smooth pans and tilts will help keep your product looking professional. Aim for good composition, size of shot, look of subject, lighting of subject, background behind the subject and overall feeling and quality. The photography should be based on the story you are telling.

Nine - Editing.
Story, presentation, photography and sound. That’s it. Right? Well, no. Then comes your editing and that is a whole different story. Editing your footage and piecing together scenes and sequences that bind together into a succinct, and skillful story-line, that grabs, excites and entertains your audience, is the essence of film making. Editing is the art of reaching out to your audience through the manipulation of select and focused information, and, like a composer working at a symphony, the film maker is constantly molding, carving and building the shot footage, sound and other media to produce a clear uncomplicated yet nuanced idea. Yes, controlling and influencing a point of view, to lead the viewer on a journey to wherever you, as a film maker, want to lead them. More than any other aspect of film making, please read up on editing, study the editing of movies and TV programs you like.

Technically, editing depends on the computer and software you are comfortable with, and of course, your storytelling abilities. There are many software programs like Final Cut Pro and Adobe Premiere and these will help when it comes to creatively assembling your shots. So plan to shoot good pictures with lots of angles. And make sure your story is told completely.

Ten – Use of the medium.
The technicalities of producing a video are about creativity, art, photography, sound recording, lighting, environment, editing, music etc. The idea is to stimulate through the quality of the story, image, sound and use of the media. These, in turn, help manipulate feelings.

On You-Tube you can see some of the finest films ever made. You can also see most of the worst. With visual storytelling, you need to be better than the next guy. There is no way your production is going to look like ‘Lawrence of Arabia,’ but that is what you are competing with in some people’s imaginations. You must be able to propel your message with good photography and good sound. Look at print advertising or fashion photography and see how one image tells the story. Many times the message comes from what you don’t see; through nuance, imagination and metaphor.

When it comes to producing a video, there is a lot to learn, but after the basics you can then study the arts, sciences, theatre and the business to produce good videos. You can become quite proficient with much practice. Like learning the piano: listen, read, try new things and practice, practice, practice.

Remember, producing a film or video is always about your audience and how you inspire or motivate them. Know the story you are going to tell, and tell it with quality, style and creativity.

It takes great skill to tell a compelling story in under 60 seconds. These five directors have mastered the format, using their talent, craft and imagination to provide us with some of the most innovative filmmaking out there today.

- Michel Apted

A film is never really good unless the camera is an eye in the head of a poet.

- Orson Wells

Eighty percent of success is showing up.

- Woody Allen

Tea at the Empress

2009-10-16T15:51:00.000-07:00

October 16/2009

Last weekend we wanted to create a lasting and fond memory for someone special in our lives, so we went to Victoria for tea.

There are certain places in the world that evoke nostalgia. For instance, when one hears the name of a certain hotel, the imagination is transported to a different time and era, and that folklore and fantasy is sometimes kept alive by the hotel that created it. A few years ago before I left on a trip to Singapore, my father planted a $20 dollar bill in my hand and said, “Have a Singapore Sling at Raffles Hotel, on me.” Raffles is where the Singapore Sling cocktail was invented in 1915, and the hotel has catered to the daily ritual of tourists wishing to partake in the romance of the British colonial era, and the original drink at the Raffles Long Bar, ever since. In fact, hundreds taste the drink every week and many wander around the old hotel building and inner courtyard in awe of the place where writers like Noel Coward and Somerset Maughm wrote many of their stories and novels. Novels my father loved to read.

Tea service at the Fairmont Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia evokes a similar feeling and it’s just as popular. The idea of Tea at the Empress, conjures up old world charm, expensive opulence and train travel across a continent to a far away place. In truth, the Empress is just that sort of place where people journey from around the world to enjoy the experience of afternoon tea and being treated like Royalty. A simple idea lasting over a hundred years, were Royalty, world traveling celebrities and adventurers have congregated since it's inception.

Although much more expensive than a Singapore Sling at Raffles, Tea at the Empress is from the same era. But rather than just a drink, customers are treated to a complete tea service: A continuously filled pot of the special Empress blend tea served in the Empress China tea set that has been around since King George the Fifth, a three tier tray with small sandwiches of BC salmon, cucumber and other delicacies, traditional English scones with strawberry preserves and cream, and an array of little deserts, cakes, fruit tarts and treats of many shapes and tastes. What more could one ask than to be surrounded by the beautiful setting of the charming Victorian front lobby tea room, and a wonderful view of Victoria’s harbour? All this adds up to a magnificent culinary delight and an atmosphere of fond memories. And the extremely courteous servers usually deserve a large tip for the process.

The $20 dollars my father gave me for my drink at the Raffles bar, wouldn’t go very far at the Empress, yet, if you are in the vicinity and have the money, spend it on a memory that will last a lifetime. Memories are important and if you have the inclination or the passion to live with special moments, shared or alone, then Tea service at the Empress is a really good idea. Remember to make a reservation. And if you like it, go again.

“A Proper Tea is much nicer than a Very Nearly Tea, which is one you forget about afterwards.” - A.A. Milne

“Each cup of tea represents an imaginary voyage.”

- Catherine Douzel

“There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the

ceremony known as afternoon tea.”

- Henry James

What is a Hero?

2009-10-10T07:58:00.000-07:00

October 10/2009

The word hero is thrown around so much. People get caught up in sports figures, actors, politicians and others as heros. But the best description of a hero came from an internet dictionary that described a hero as: “A man or a woman distinguished by exceptional courage, nobility of purpose and strength, in the face of danger and adversity or from a position of weakness, and the will for self sacrifice for a greater good. So the hero is an ordinary person doing extra-ordinary things.” We all have it in us to do what is right. However, many of us do what is wrong.

There was a hero, an American hero. A man named Hugh Thompson. He died a couple of years ago. We could have brushed shoulders with him. He was a helicopter pilot – a captain of men in his charge.

It was a day like any other, but just different enough to make a real difference in the lives of so many. And it change the course of history.

Captain Thompson and his crew were flying a reconnaissance mission over a Vietnamese village when he heard gun fire below. He decided to investigate. As they landed they found a scene, so dreadful that it defied comprehension. American soldiers were firing on unarmed citizens. Women and children. Babies. Old men, old women. People were lying dead in ditches, fields and on roads. Some who weren’t dead were being systematically shot by a company Captain.

Thompson and his men entered the village and confronted a Lieutenant who was preparing to blow up a hut full of cowering and wounded Vietnamese. He ordered his own men to cover the company with their heavy machine guns and orders them to fire on any American who refused the orders to halt the systematic massacre. None of the officers dared disobey, yet Thompson was outranked by all the commissioned lieutenants. Thompson then ordered two other helicopters to ferry the wounded Vietnamese to hospital. Some children who were still alive were extracted from the bodies and taken with the rest of the Vietnamese to the hospital.

The village was called My Lai. It was a massacre of over 500 unarmed civilians including women, children, and the elderly.

Lt. William Calley had ordered his men to enter the village firing, and according to eyewitness reports, several old men were bayoneted, praying women and children were shot in the back of the head, and at least one girl was raped and then killed. Calley was said to have rounded up a group of the villagers, ordered them into a ditch, and mowed them down in a rain of machine gun fire.

There was a trial and one man, Lt. Calley was convicted. He testified that he was ordered by his Captain to kill everyone in the village. Until Captain Hugh Thompson and his men arrived on the scene, there was no one to stop them. They saved the lives of hundreds.

So was this man a hero? Some said no.

For years, the U.S. military tried to cover up the My Lai massacre, and Hugh Thompson was treated not as a hero, but as a traitor, an outcast, a turncoat, because he had dared to question his fellow GIs who said they were just following orders. Thompson got death threats.

When Thompson testified about the murders to Congress in 1970, his testimony was kept secret. He said they didn’t want the story out, and one of the senior Congressmen in the secret testimony said, “... if anybody goes to jail here today, it'll be that helicopter pilot.”

There is a huge difference between right and wrong and the cover up of corruption. It was the ability of these men, Thompson and his crew, to do the right thing, even at the risk of their personal safety, that guided these soldiers to do what they did. This story was enough to turn the tide of the Vietnam war. Within couple of years the war was over.

On March 16, 1998, Captain Thompson and his crew were invited to My Lai where they were recognized by the Vietnamese government for their valor. They were given letters and gifts and thanked by the survivors, and the people in the area.

They were invited for a feast by the people of My Lai and a lady at the table turned to Captain Thompson and asked, “Why didn't any of the ones who participated come?” Thompson didn’t know what to say, he was so ashamed. He asked her, “Why, would you want to see them?” "So we could forgive them." She said.

To me, someone who can forgive others for such atrocities, is also a hero.

"One can not always be a hero, but one can always be a human."

- Johnann Wolfgang von Goeth

"Show me a hero and I will write a tragedy."

F. Scot Fitzgerald

"That's what it takes to be a hero, a little gem of innocence inside you that makes you want to believe that there still exists a right and wrong, that decency will somehow triumph in the end."

- Lise Hand

Who are we?

2009-10-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

October 4/2009

I ask just one question.

Who are we?

So, let me excite your mind.

There is no past - there is no future - there is only NOW. Now is less than a hundredth of a second, less than the blink of an eye and much less than a heart beat. And that is all we know. The past, even a fraction of a second ago, is assigned to history and lost forever. The future is in constant flow of arrival. Therefore, the future is totally liberated from the past and the past is totally liberated from the future. We live in the liner moment between. The moment we call, NOW.

With our automatic brains, we glide with the flow of time as if we never knew it was upon us, and we go on and on as if life goes on forever. Our future is so connected to our past in our minds, that we forget it’s arrival, only to morn it’s passing when we feel the loss of something. Yet, in that fraction of a second between past and future, life begins and life ends, and when we end, we have entered into another future we know not of. As William Shakespeare so eloquently said, “... that undiscovered country from whose borne no traveler returns, puzzles the will.” In that fateful moment of time, does the future still continue to unfold for us or do we cease to be? Forever? Puzzles the will indeed.

We are a consciousness of life; born in a fraction, living from moment to moment in a free flow of existence.

But sometimes it seems to be guided, as if planned. Why did we travel across half the world to meet someone who will be our friend for life? Were we destined to find each other out of the millions who roam this globe? Is there a greater guiding force, a greater consciousness? A planned destiny? We may think so, based on the belief of others, but have we really discovered this ourselves? We have the reasoning power to control our world and our thinking, so we have the means to figure it all out individually.

Out there, beyond our bodies, is nothing. Yet, we make meaning of everything. We impose our own meaning and values on all we see, hear, feel, decipher, by what we have learned in the past. Whether it’s right or wrong. For instance: A wooden chair. When initially asked, one person may see the wooden chair as the tallest tree that grew in the primeval forest. Another person may see the chair as being the art form and craftsmanship of a carpenter who spent days building the structure and carving the ornate patterns in the back of the chair. While another person may see the chair as a seat of power. This chair sits in the study of the President of the United States of America and it has been sat on by numerous presidents who have given the orders to go to war, fix the economy, signed into law many bills or conducted important meetings with international leaders.

We all have the capacity to think differently. Rational thought, reason and free will make us individual. These are functions of the brain we are given by the Universe (or, to some, our God), and it’s this individuality that make us different from all the other people we connect with. We all have unlimited potential and endless opportunities to change and grow, and what distinguishes us as human beings is our intellect, our curiosity, our emotion, our quest for something out there. Ambition and hunger drive us to find and pursue what ever goals we want to create for ourselves. Life is totally open for us to use our freedom. To create, us.

However, some will never know or understand that freedom. While some excel to greatness through individuality, others will never realize their true potential because they can’t escape their way of thinking and their surroundings. They will be stuck in ignorance and nurtured by their environment to become products of that environment. No matter what it contains. Good or evil. With a broad stereotype brush, we might say that poor neighborhoods breed crime and rich neighborhood breed philanthropists. But as we now know, we have the individual power to change all that.

The United States calls itself the land of the free, yet, are people really free? Most have been indoctrinated in culture, patriotism, society, politics, religion, family or some other thing that dictates how people: think, feel, do, be. We are all trapped in our own minds.

We must break free, to be free. Be ourselves. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see.” We must find that curious individual inside us. The individual that we really are. We must nurture our own way to think creatively within ourselves. And we must try to mold ourselves into the person we really want to be.

It’s not easy, but as soon as we “GET IT.” Get that we are really the masters of our own destiny, then there is an endless realm of possibilities and opportunities before us.

My question at the beginning was: Who are we?

My answer is: We are what we make of ourselves.

I leave you with this thought: Life, is getting actively involved in everything you do, and thinking your way to freedom is the best investment you could ever make in yourself.

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.
- Friedrich Nietzsche

Whatever my individual desires were to be free, I was not alone. There were many others who felt the same way.
- Rosa Parks

It is only to the individual that a soul is given.
- Albert Einstein

Eternal Echoes (favorite books)

2009-10-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

October 3/2009

I needed space and solace while chilling after a broken marriage in 2001. Ireland had been on my list of places to visit for many years, so off I went. But I soon found conversation. “Where are all the Americans?” This was a month after 9/11 and the Americans were just too frightened to travel.

As a tourist I saw some spectacular places: Dublin, the Ring of Kerry, the Dingle Penninsula, Cork and the Port of Cobh, where the Titanic last saw land before her ill fated Atlantic crossing in 1912. I kissed the Blarney Stone on top of Blarney castle and I found the long way to Tipperary. These were new experiences and very invigorating.

On one of my stops I met a lady from County Sligo in the north west. What a spectacular place that is. And there was one important thing she told me as we chatted over tea. “Read the book Eternal Echoes by John O’ Donohue,” she said. So the book became my traveling companion.

This book is from the soul. We all need soul food every now and again, and it spoke to me like no book had ever done. With prose written like exquisite poetry, John O’Donohue touched me with a true taste of spirituality. He explores our longingness of souls to belong in this cool world of ours. We need to seek the comfort of others. And as we do, we must find the self within. His thesis is very inspirational. It’s a wonderful read and a work of art that is almost biblical in it’s ability to motivate. The book speaks metaphorically, pragmatically and is grounded in common sense.

This book has a very special place on my book case and I’m looking forward to reading it again, and then sometime later, again.

Eternal Echoes: Celtic reflections on our Yearning to Belong. by John O’Donohue.

Last year, January 2008, John O’Donohue died suddenly in his sleep at the age of 52. What a loss for the world. He was a gifted philosopher and a Celtic mystic who left us such inspiring writings. I also have his other books “Beauty”, “Anam Cara” and his book of poetry “Conamara Blues.” I can recommend them all.

We all seek inspiration from the far corners of life. I traveled miles to discover John O’Donohue, then he was left at my feet for me to find his inspiration. Perhaps he can inspire you too.

“It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone. Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world waits. A world lives within you. No-one else can bring you news of this inner world.”

- John O’Donohue

“Everyone is an artist. Each person brings sound out of silence and coaxes the invisible to become visible.”

- John O’Donohue

“When one flower blooms, Spring awakens everywhere.”

- John O’Donohue

Blow Up (favorite films)

2009-10-01T10:52:00.000-07:00

October 1/2009

As a teenager in the 1960’s, I had already made my mind up to be a photographer. However, there were a few influences that solidified the idea and made the prospect of a career in the trade legitimate for me.

I lived in England and the art world was in full flight. The climate to be an artist was very encouraging. Princess Margaret, the Queen’s sister, had married a photographer, Anthony Armstrong-Jones. There was the glamour of the great fashion photographers of the day: David Bailey and David Hamilton, and the avant-guard photographers of Magnum International. I was also influenced by great movies like Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago and of course the James Bond series. And locally in the northern English town of Blackpool, where we lived, the summer was ripe for a budding young photographer with the entertainment and tourism industries shouting from the sidelines.

Then came a movie that seemed to aim at me personally. “Blow Up,” with David Hemmings in the lead roll as a photographer. This film influenced me into becoming comfortable as a photographic artist, which in turn has given me a creative life of adventure. I hadn't seen this film for many years until I bought the DVD. It’s dated for today's audiences, yet for me, it still holds up as an icon of the era. I remembered it fondly.

The photographer is a dreamer, a curious individual who lives the busy life of a high-flier, photographic artist, much like the popular London photographers of the day. He treats his work as a part of everyday life, as with most artists, but he also has the arrogance of someone who is good at what he does, and knows it. So anything goes.

The film is very European in many ways (directed by Italian Director, Michaelangelo Antonioni) yet the film became, and added to the popular culture of London in the sixties. It was based on Julio Cortázar's short story, The Devil's Drool.

The art of photography is about imagination and make-believe, and so is the world of “Blow Up,” where nothing is exactly as it seems. It is all manufactured, an illusion, including the truth. Is it there? Yes. No it isn't, so lets make-believe it is, or lets make it happen. In this uncertain world, the photographer suddenly stumbles on a mystery, a murder, where he tries to uncover the elusive truth, but he becomes unraveled by the enigma of what truth is. To quote Wikipedia, "... it dealt with the challenging theme of the impossibility of objective standards and the ever-doubtable truth of memory."

People have been trying to find meaning in this film for years, but "Blow Up" is an ethereal romp where nothing is as it seems, much like the world of photography, entertainment, film making, news and politics. So, if in the end the meaning is meaningless, just enjoy the ride.

Wonderful performances by David Hemmings and Vanessa Redgrave.

As for my profession, it has been anything but meaninglessness. I have had the ride of my life: visiting more of the world than most people, meeting more individuals of diverse cultures and social standings and coming to terms with myself as I see others play the game. It is a wonderful world if you can see it through fresh, inquisitive and meaningful eyes. In the end, we all make our own meaning, and we, as the individuals that we are, have the power to create almost anything we want for our lives. Especially happiness.

"And do you accept the idea that there is no explanation?"

- Julio Cortázar

“Photography deals exquisitely with appearances, but nothing is what it appears to be.”

- Duane Michals

“When I die I want to go to Vogue.”

- David Bailey

What is the Truth?

2009-09-29T11:07:00.000-07:00

September 29/2009

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?

Truth is, the truth is a bit of an enigma; a perception. Not all truths are the same. We all may say we saw that tall blond woman with the tight skirt walk down the steps into the law offices. However, Mrs. Brown said, “It was a thin hippy man with blond hair and tight jeans.” Joe Green over there said, “It was a woman with horn-rimmed glasses in a tight business suit and she went up the steps.” Yet, the truth may be that it’s just a male in drag waiting for a friend. So everyone has their own truth.

But what is the truth?

The truth is a consensus of opinions. Right? … Wrong.
The truth is the difference between right and wrong. Right? … Wrong.
The truth is written by the journalist who writes the best prose. Right? … Wrong.

Sometimes history has been subjugated by the ugly fact that the books that actually survived the burnings were the ones left to tell the story, whether they told the truth or not.

Film Maker Walt Disney always said, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.” Yet, a lot of us learned some of our history from movies made by Disney. Then of course playwright David Mamet said, “It's only words ... unless they're true.”

Surprising as this may seem, there is no single definition of “truth” about which the majority of philosophers agree. Various theories of truth, commonly involving different definitions of "truth," continue to be debated.

But, what is the truth?

Personal honesty and a good moral compass summon us to rise far above the masses and live and practice with integrity and good ethics, as well as values, principles, morals and decency. We need to take the trouble to learn all the facts and evidence of an issue before we make up our minds on an emotional or an ego based level. In other words: Take the lead as the individual thinking people and rise above the corruption that surrounds us. We need to make sense of all sides of an issue rather than follow a doctrine or a dogma called for by politics, religion, society, culture or the gang mentality. And carefully make up our own reasoned minds and follow our own integrity, and our own soul.

There’s a wonderful quote from the 8th century Chinese Zen Master, Sent-ts'an, who said, "If you want truth to stand clear before you, never be for or against. The struggle between "for" and "against" is the mind's worst disease."

So what would he say about the political climate today? Today, normally rational people draw political lines in the sand and take tough stands on issues, either for or against, to prove that they don’t like what the other party is standing for; no matter if they are speaking for or against their own better interests. Is this really being honest with the truth?

As we all know, people are not sheep. Yet, many follow like sheep, not standing up for what is right in the world, but for how they can retain power, party loyalty, trustworthiness and commitment or even status within a certain group, camp or society. We see this when people can be rallied by the use of a simple word such as “patriotism” or because of “fear” or even because someone needs to “look good” in supporting a wrong call on a contentious subject. This is not truth, but deception.

But, what is the truth?

England’s great wartime leader Sir Winston Churchill once said, “Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing had happened.”

Philosopher Gabriel Marcel once dug deep inside himself and told us, “I am obliged to bear witness, because I hold … as it were … a particle of light, and to keep it to myself would be the equivalent of extinguishing it.”

In recent history, US television satirist and comedian, Stephen Colbert, coined the word “Truthiness” to describe something that a person claims to know without regard for the truth, facts, evidence, logic or examination. They just "know", or say they know. It seems that some people can say anything. Unfortunately for most of us, some of them get away with it.

But again, what is the truth?

I asked at the beginning, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Well, as we see, the real truth is but: a perception, an enigma, a mystery, a bit of a puzzle and sometimes a delusion.

It’s really up to our own integrity and self-respect, accountability and honesty as individuals to state and live by the facts. We must distinguish, in an honest way, the difference between right and wrong. In the end, all we can ask of others is to go beyond their own challenges to make a real difference in the world by doing the right thing; and to inspire others to also do the right thing. Only in this way can we change the world into a better place, one person at a time.

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”
- Oscar Wilde

“I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies.”
- Pietro Aretino

“Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth.”
- Albert Einstein

Giving and Gratitude

2009-09-28T07:54:00.000-07:00

September 27/2009

The hardest thing to do is to give something away. Not on the personal level of letting go; money, things, energy, time, knowledge, but in gaining the respect of the recipient.

The Buddha told that the giver is giving compassion, and that compassion never needs to seek recognition, nor reward. Because that is what true giving and compassion is: Nirvana. It’s the concept of being free from craving, anger and other afflictive states; greed, hatred, and delusion. Being free from suffering. Being a totally free thinker. To not need anything but the basics to live. To give freely without need for something in return; not even a thank you.

Therefore, we shouldn’t be looking for respect, right?

I was always taught that when receiving a gift, to always acknowledge, thank and respect whomever was being gracious enough to give me something. For that is the least I could do. But for someone to give something to you in kindness - gifts or pleasure without the need for gratification - seems truly selfless. This is the hardest thing to master within oneself. Because it is natural to want gratification, quid pro quo or at least a simple thank you. And if we don’t receive what we consider the right acknowledgement, we want to teach the one receiving to be more gracious.

When I was a kid, my mother wasn’t financially very well off. I remember we were invited to a cousin’s birthday party and she had bought a small gift for me to give to my cousin. After receiving really great gifts from other people, it was time for me to give this tiny gift, a toy car, to my cousin. The look on his face was precious. “Well, I don’t like that,” he told me. He must have been about five or six years old. I was about eight.

I think I learned much more from that exchange than he did. I learned humiliation, then humility. Since then, there have been many times in my life when I have been humbled and my way of thinking has been challenged. I don’t feel as much humiliation any more.

But this lack of grace exists everywhere. During the past few years, I had the opportunity of working with charity organizations in and around the Los Angeles area. I was astounded when I would hear CEOs, and other fundraisers scoff at the amount of money being given by philanthropists. “Is that all,” they would say. “They could give us much more than that.” Where, I ask, was the graciousness of the receiver for the gift, no matter how large or small the donation?

We tend to look down on people whose grace is lacking. And for some charities, a fundraiser’s attitude and the way they do or do not express gratitude, makes the difference in whether the philanthropist will ever donate to the same organization again.

In Jewish Tradition the Talmud insists that the contribution to the centralized fund is the highest form of Tzedakah or charity, for it is the best way of ensuring the anonymity of both donor and recipient. Therefore gratitude to the giver is never in question.

The laws of Karma tell: You can’t give anything away because it will come back to you in the form of energy. So we really don’t need the gratitude of others. It is a given.

Somehow we must take our bruised egos out of the equation if we are ever able to understand true compassion. We must become aware of another’s innocent ignorance of gratitude. Perhaps they haven’t been taught to be thankful. We need to be understanding and compassionate toward the other person’s lack of grace. Because we are also supposed to be giving of our tolerance, our open-mindedness and our receptiveness to learning from others.

The Dalai Lama is in Vancouver this week for his 2009 Peace Summit. He teaches kindness and compassionate giving for all. And while his and all great teachings should be good learning for us, I think some of us need to experience life lessons (the school of hard knocks) and develop our own moral judgments and moral humility before we can become truly compassionate. With this life experience and knowledge gained we will have the tools to be understanding individuals and better givers, whether we reach Nirvana or not.

“You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”
- Kahlil Gibran

“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful.”
- Buddha

“Do not stand on a high pedestal and take 5 cents in your hand and say, "here, my poor man", but be grateful that the poor man is there, so by making a gift to him you are able to help yourself. It is not the reciever that is blessed, but it is the giver. Be thankful that you are allowed to exercise your power of benevolence and mercy in the world, and thus become pure and perfect.”
- Swami Vivekananda

"We do not quite forgive a giver. The hand that feeds us is in some danger of being bitten."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Day in the Life

2009-09-28T07:53:00.002-07:00

September 21/2009

The Beatles re-released all their up-dated, re-mixed, analogue to digital recordings this month. I’m reminded just how creative they were: avant-garde, leading-edge, experimental, daring, with a freedom that brought the musical world into a new era that never seemed possible. And it was all a great collaboration of five individuals. No, not just the four Beatle members: John Lennon, Paul McCatrney, George Harrison and Ringo Star, but also one of the greatest music producers of all time, George Martin.

One of their greatest song collaborations was “A Day in the Life.” The last song on the Sgt. Pepper album.

Needing to think up new songs for their latest album, John Lennon was sitting at the piano one afternoon when he picked up the newspaper and read of an acquaintance who had been killed in a car crash. Having the creative freedom to write songs about anything, John started to write about how reading this story affected him.

“I read the news today, Oh Boy. About a Lucky man who made the grade.” He wrote about the crash and how the people stopped and stared. He then decided to write of other things happening on this day in his life, like seeing the film he had recently acted in. “How I won the War.” He wrote, “I saw a film today, Oh Boy. The English army had just won the war.” After another glance at the newspaper he spotted another item that caught his eye, about pot holes in Blackburn in Northern England. With these simple writings/lyrics, of no consequence to anything, he composed a beautifully, simple, yet haunting melody to accompany them, using his words as musical inspirations. And it was this simple melody that would inspire the others to add their embellishment, structure and nuance.

They began recording the song at the Abbey Road studios on January 19th, 1967 with John singing and playing guitar, Paul on piano, George on maracas and Ringo on bongos and drums. As the song progressed they recorded John’s four verses and he added a segue, "I'd love to turn you on", for an unwritten middle verse. The middle verse was left open and Paul remembered some lyrics he had been working on for a song about heading off to school as a youth. “Woke up, got out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head.” He wrote of catching a bus and sitting upstairs while going into a dream. It was a totally different melody but it worked within John’s melody. And as Paul's lyrics went into the dream, John sang the dreamy high "Ahhhhs" and George Martin added an orchestral horn section to strengthen the sound. But there was two 24 beat spaces left for something else to be added later. Something spectacular.

Paul asked George Martin if he could get an orchestra to play an ever ascending swirl of music to fill the spaces. This was later recorded and over-dubbed with Paul’s base guitar keeping the beat. At the end of the piece they had the musical swirl creating a crescendo/climax.But something was missing. They needed to define a finish. There were three pianos in the studio, so they lined up John, Paul and Ringo on each piano and they simultaneously played the chord of E. This dynamic chord was stretched for almost a minute to fade out and conclude the song and the album. Thus it became the most famous chord in musical history.

Art is taking an idea and embellishing it into greatness, being decorative, adding layers. A Day in the Life started with a simple memorable melody and it has become an all time favorite song, from one of the all time favorite groups.

All good art is like this: painting, writing, music, photography, films, design, architecture, all creativity. Start with a simple idea that will weather the tests of time, frame it within a solid yet exciting structure, add the mixture of creating something to enhance the experience: character, elaborate, decorate, garnish. beautify, grace, embellish, and add depth and style.

If more artists started with substance and creative thinking to achieve something different and better rather that just copying that which has gone before, we would have a much more evolved world. The Beatles were influenced by others but in the end they told their own story with something new and innovative that excited not only their generation but a lot of generations, and a whole world. Like Beethoven and Bach, the Beatles music will live forever.

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.
Nietzsche

A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.
John Lennon

Nothing pleases me more than to go into a room and come out with a piece of music.
Paul McCartney

Political discourse and respect

2009-09-28T07:53:00.001-07:00

September 14/2009

I’m neither left nor right, so I sit in the middle, dodging dogma and personal attack potshots, and watching badly behaved people spout vicious lies and destructive intimation at each other over the heads of, us, the confounded centrist majority.

Politics is a very dirty game. Destroy your opponent and take the country so it benefits you. Tell the worst lies about an idea or an opponent, make yourself look good and bring the other guy or gal down, no matter what. This is rhetorical warfare at it’s worst. No more intelligent debate, wise political maneuvers or even cleaver ideas, just screaming from the sidelines. For what? To win the next election? Power? Greed?

Unfortunately, all this works on an apathetic, numbed-down population who don’t have the desire or perhaps curiosity to do the research and find the real truth. The Vox populi (voice of the people) who go about their own daily business oblivious of how their country is being ruled or ruined. And there are enough of them to swing votes. Just tell them that the other party will raise taxes, let the terrorists in, break up the country or that you are religious, and they will automatically vote against their own self interest. Rule by lies, and fright wins the day every time.

I remember when political parties were inhabited by intellectuals. It was fun to see them and their ideas in full swing, trying to grab the hearts and minds of an electorate for them to become the next government. Yes, to be in public service. We'd watch the people we didn't agree with and still admire them. Political discourse was an intriguing thing to watch, listen or read, especially when political adversaries would head off for a beer or dinner together and talk football or hockey after a heated debate. They were political opposites, but human beings first. These people had grace, style and substance; with a little wit thrown in for good measure.

British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, a Conservative, had a fierce political rivalry with Liberal leader, William Gladstone, who also became Prime Minister. They were opposites in thinking and in their approach to life and ruling. However, they highly respected each other with a wicked sense of humour. When Gladstone’s followers called him GOM (Grand Old Man), Disraeli changed it to God's Only Mistake. When Disraeli died and Gladstone proposed a state funeral for his opponent, Disraeli’s wishes came to light; he would like to be buried with his wife. Gladstone replied, "As Disraeli lived, so he died, all display, without reality or genuineness." They loved the great debate, as did my favorite politician, Winston Churchill. He could be brutal, but respectful.

Today, it seems, elected politicians have no manners, training, education or even a sense of humour. The opposition becomes the enemy, so the debate turns sour and personal. Personal attack ads on television have become the normal way of doing business. It really is drama, theatre and dumb enough to be a little Shakespeare. Now if they could only stick some pizzaz in there, sprinkle it with a sense of humour, and of course a dash of good ideas and respect, they might win the hearts and minds again.

In the United States it’s all out in the open, and it’s ugly. It’s also happening in Canada. Parties who I once supported have become mean and nasty parties of small thinking men and women who follow each other like sheep. Gone is the intelligent discourse and the great ideas that built the country. All this is replaced by Luddite, immature thinking and acting, and smear campaigns aiming to destroy opposition.

So here I am, in the center, watching the world unfold; perhaps as it should. Political opposition and discourse will come and go, as will all things “this too must pass.” Sooner or later the next party will take over as the governing block and the little people, the pretenders, will move on, having almost destroyed the soul of a country in the process. May we just hope and pray that the voting public at large will see above the blatant lies, wake up, become less lethargic, less apathetic and less numbed down by politics. They need to Get Involved, listen, learn and vote for good government: Government that benefits everyone, not just the ignorant, the thieves, the greedy and the nasty few with hidden political agendas.

"Men are apt to mistake the strength of their feeling for the strength of their argument. The heated mind resents the chill touch and relentless scrutiny of logic."
William E. Gladstone

"Be amusing: never tell unkind stories; above all, never tell long ones."
Benjamin Disraeli

"I have always felt that a politician is to be judged by the animosities he excites among his opponents."
Sir Winston Churchill

Where's the Compassion?

2009-09-28T07:52:00.000-07:00

September 3rd, 2009

Last month the convicted bomber of PanAm flight 103, a 747 jet aircraft that was blown out of the sky in 1988, scattering across miles of countryside in and around the small village of Lockerbie in Scotland, was set free on compassionate grounds. He had served a few years of his lifetime sentence in a Scottish prison and was released because he was about to die. The Government of Scotland cited the release as a humanitarian gesture as the man had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and they wanted to let him die at home with his family in Libia.

From western governments and populations there was an outcry. “Why would they release a mass murderer and let him go free. This man didn’t show compassion when he set the trigger that killed so many?”

I admit, I am of two minds. Yes, this man did commit a very serious crime and he showed little remorse when sentenced. However, we in the west espouse that we are the compassionate ones. We are the secularists and we base our societies on law and order, wisdom, moral standards, freedom and good government. Our society is also based, in part, on some Christian teachings, and we follow the goodness and compassion of many religions that preach the sanctity of life and peace with others. This man had been given three months or less to live with a diagnosis of prostrate cancer. Do we or do we not practice what we preach? Yes the law has to be based on the enormity of the crime but how civilized are we? As a civilized society we must have compassion and maintain those strong convictions no matter who challenges them. We need the "Wisdom of Solomon" to nurture the values we have, and hold onto them. For what are we without the values we espouse but a copy of those who fight us because of them.

A few years ago the case of Terri Schiavo garnered headlines around the world. This terminally ill, Florida woman was on a life support system supporting a body with brain damage so massive that there was no “quality” of life left in her. The conundrum was: should they pull the plug and let her die with some sort of dignity or keep her on life support and prolong the life of someone who would never again regain her brain functions. Her husband wanted to “pull the plug” and let her drift off to heaven. He said, “That is what Terri would want.” Her parents disagreed, they wanted her to live. The case went to court.

Even though there was no euthanasia laws in Florida, the court ruled for the husband. He was his wife’s guardian. He could choose to have the life support systems removed. After several court appeals by her parents the US Congress and President Bush got involved and voted to keep Terri alive. The Florida Court decision was then upheld by the Supreme Court of Florida and the Supreme Court of the United States, making a mockery of the Congressional and Presidential interference. Terri was eventually seperated from her support systems and she died a couple of weeks later.

My question is: where is the compassion? And in Terri’s case, where is the faith that religious people preach about? “There is a God,” they say. “And he is waiting for us in heaven.” Then why wouldn’t they want Terri to be in heaven with her God rather than living no life here on earth? She had been vegetating for years with absolutely no hope of regaining her consciousness. Why would these people want to prolong her “non” existence and suffering?

There was a mass outcry and the sanctimonious religious among us took over the debate and almost denied Terri’s release from a life that was no life at all. I must question the faith of these people. Surely, if God is compassionate then why can't we be, and let Terri go?

The Wikipedia dictionary describes compassion as: “a human emotion prompted by the pain of others. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering. It is often, though not inevitably, the key component in what manifests in the social context as altruism. In ethical terms, the various expressions down the ages of the so-called Golden Rule embody by implication the principle of compassion: Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.

If this is so, then both the Terri Schiavo case and the Lockerbie bomber case are similar. Both test the virtue of our own compassion to help someone out of their suffering. In the Lockerbie bomber case we must also practice the virtue of forgiveness, and this seems to be the most difficult for many to do. For when confronted with the idea of retribution, revenge or vengeance, many seem to forget that forgiveness is also compassion, and at the heart of all religious learnings is: Love thy Enemy. Better still, respect thy enemy.

Then why can’t we be charitable and let the bomber go home to die with his family? It is in our compassionate philosophy to do so. And why can’t we help Ms. Schiavo die in peace? Obviously she was suffering. Let them both rest in peace.

Compassion is here, it lies within us all. It is only to be rediscovered and practiced by all who espouse a truly civilized society.

"If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion."
The Dalai Lama

“Kindness gives to another. Compassion knows no 'other'.”
Tzvi Freeman, Jewish Rabbi

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
Albert Einstein

“Give me knowledge, so I may have kindness for all.”
-Native American Proverb

It's Raining again in Vancouver

2009-09-28T07:51:00.002-07:00

August/2009

There’s a unifying factor in Canada from coast to coast to coast: The Weather. At least it’s something Canadian’s always love to talk about, complain about. Canadian weather is as different as it’s people but there is one comparable factor: it’s always active.

On the Atlantic coast it’s wild. I’ve crossed the Atlantic Ocean by boat. I know it well. Nova Scotia and Newfoundland gets some of the worst weather on the continent. Storms travel from west to east across Canada and storms move north, up the eastern United States, some of them hurricanes, and they meet over the Maritime provinces in an untamed mingling of forces. Quebec is very cold in winter. I lived in Montreal as a young boy and I remember the cold and the snow drifts higher than some houses. In Toronto it’s damp and wet: The spring is slush, the summer is humid hot, the autumn is perfect and the winter is raw.

The prairies are cold like Siberia. It’s an open flat land where the cold chill gusts down the wind and makes the place bleak, inhospitable and shivering to the bone. The British Columbian mountains are a winter wonderland for skiers but fought with the danger of avalanches and wild rivers. Vancouver weather is gentle. However, it does rain, and it rains, and it rains, and it rains.

Vancouver has the mildest and most moderate climate in Canada. The city was built on a rain forest and it very rarely gets the heavy storms the rest of the country does, yet, I hear people on street corners scream from the top of their lungs “I hate rain.” I honestly feel sorry for someone who is so angry about something they can’t do anything about, except move. These people are most probably from the prairies or central Canada where the weather is ... you know ... worse. These may also be people from Hong Kong and their reaction is strange because it rains more in Hong Kong than in Vancouver. However, the sun does shine more often over there.

I lived in Eastern Canada as a child where green forests abound with wet days and I grew up in England where it rains almost every day. The overwhelmingly moist green foliage and moss is in abundance everywhere in Britain. It’s like living in a salad. So moving to the desert was something quite different.

The San Fernando Valley in California is a desert and it hardly rains except for the odd season of torrential downpours. Culture shock was the first time I noticed the lack of rain, it didn’t rain for nine months. The Los Angeles weather forecaster Fritz Colman told us that he felt so lucky to have a job that's almost redundant, where on the odd day he does report a slight rain, it’s usually only a sprinkle where one swipe of the car wipers will clear the problem. The drives between Los Angeles and Las Vegas were particularly awesome for me. These were hot desert sands and scrub brush for as far as the eye could see. Hot, baked, parched and dry to the back of the throat. After living without rain for a few years I really missed it.

Vancouver is a paradise. A beautiful shining city sandwiched between the sea and the mountains, and the rain is fresh and mild bringing clean pure oxygen that cleanses the body inside and out. But some people just can’t see it. All they see are the dark clouds and water pouring in front of their eyes, getting their clothes and hair wet.

After experiencing a spectacular concert of the Vancouver Symphony at the Orpheum one evening, my partner and I were greeted by a steady downpour of rain sending concert goers dashing for the nearest cover. We decided not to take the ubiquitous taxi home but brave the elements and walk home across the Cambie Bridge. We were both dressed well but we were also sporting good rain coats and umbrellas. The umbrellas were good but as we crossed the bridge the wind sent the rain sideways rendering the umbrellas useless. We both zipped up our coats, dropped the umbrellas and opened our faces to the rain. The steady, cool water, drenched us, sending a calmed resignation of euphoria through out. It was no more wet that the morning shower and much more spectacular. I would highly recommend letting your head get wet in a downpour someday, it’s very exhilarating.

I am happy in the rain and I have invested in some wonderful colourful umbrellas. Happiness comes from within, meaning, there are ways to learn to love the rain. Face it, let it bathe you, breath it in. It’s great for your skin and your soul, and unless you move to the deserts it’s not going to go away.

Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.
~Roger Miller

Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.
~Anthony J. D'Angelo

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness, has never danced in the rain.
~Author Unknown

Solace

2009-09-28T07:51:00.001-07:00

August/2009

I found my solace sitting up a tree. I also found it at the bottom of a swimming pool, in the fresh clean air on a mountain side, beside the undulating sea on a boat or staring into a fireplace with the flames flickering in my head. Anywhere I could stop for a moment and discover myself or reach for the universe within, I found me.

It is so important to find yourself outside this busy hectic world where so many souls are floating around following what ever manufactured influence they can latch onto, to find happiness or to look good to others. I was always amazed that so many people do things to say that they did it. Why not experience it, just for yourself? Perhaps you don’t need to tell anyone that you did it as long as you are happy within yourself. It’s not a secret. It’s just for you.

I don’t mean to suggest that you stop sharing yourself with others, we never need to be lonely. But don’t go out of your way to seek approval. You may find it disappointing. First look to find who you are, then create who you want to be, and be the best you can be, for yourself first. Don’t live your lifefor others but with others of your choice. And don’t be too selfish. Learn that life is about giving, of ourselves, to others. So how can we be ourselves if we haven’t connected with ourselves? Connecting with others is life. Connecting with ourselves is soul. With this concept you may find the approval from within first, and the happiness that you have been searching for will open to you.

Connecting with myself is something I used to do naturally. It led to my creativity manifesting genuinely. Most days I turn up for my film industry assignments an hour before the filming, just to “be”. I figure that the only time I can really relax during the day is before all the others turn up and we begin to turn what chaos we create into a TV show or a feature film. I also pace my hectic lifestyle with days of peace after each assignment. However, recently I have let the noise and the chaos of living clutter my way, hurt my health, disturb my creative energy and edge.

I am now looking to meditation, based on the advise of film maker David Lynch. David’s Foundation for Consciousness-Based Education and World Peace is promoting transcendental meditation for American schools and for at-risk youth around the world.

“I have had the pleasure of meeting many students who are “diving within” and experiencing Consciousness-Based education. These students are all unique individuals, very much themselves. They are amazing, self-sufficient, wide-awake, energetic, blissful, creative, powerfully intelligent and peaceful human beings. Meeting these students, for me, was the proof that Consciousness-Based education is a profoundly good thing for our schools and for our world.”
David Lynch - Film Maker - http://www.davidlynchfoundation.org

It takes more than being a pragmatist to be successful in life. It also takes a basic understanding of self. The problem is, every day life gets in the way and we don’t make time to develop a way to find “us”. But we are there. Waiting. We need to steer ourselves away from the noise and socital cynicism that pervades our culture and existence, and cultivate a better quality of life. For me, I found myself from an early age and enjoyed a fully rounded life/soul journey where I have slowly learned to take a broader look at the confronting stress. I am now finding my way back to the innocence of curiosity and the solace of peace. I recommend it to everyone.

Solace up a tree is not as silly as it may seem. Convening with nature, both inside and out, is at the core of who we are, and our existence here on earth is made so much more whole and dynamic by coming to terms with the nature of who we are.

Beaches Jazz Streetfest

2009-09-28T07:50:00.000-07:00

August 2009

Recently spent three nights walking, up and down, the two mile stretch of Toronto’s Queen Street attending the Beaches Jazz Streetfest with friends and family. The street was fenced off to traffic and streetcars so a multitude of musicians and bands could entertain an even larger multitude of musically minded city folk. We love music and we spent the three nights cruising for jazz.

This is one of the best street festivals I have ever attended. It was calm, courteous, creative and law abiding. Yes there was a police presence but it was subtle. There were pedestrian Cops and female Cops who in any other dress would be classified as babes, and there were Cops on bicycles. They were all enjoying the music, which goes to show that Cops are people too. Ontario law also prohibits the drinking of alcohol on the street so there was no drunkenness or rowdy yahoos disturbing the peace.

It was all about the people and their peaceful enjoyment of an art-form. Three night of jazz bands in shop doorways and while this was happening the torrential that had been pouring for three days stopped to only threaten the evening performances.

One night we stopped at a group called Dr. Draw, headed by a violinist who played New-Age like music with a rock flavor, and a wild back up band. Half way through the performance the fire hall across the street, where I was standing, opened it’s doors, turned on the red flashing lights and out came a city fire engine blaring a siren that seemed to go in tune with the music. The audience who were so intent on Dr. Draw, peacefully pealed back, cleared the way for the fire engine and slowly edged back to intently listen to the rest of the music when the commotion had driven down the street on route to douse a house fire. The band entertained without missing a beat.

Jazz has been called African America’s gift to the world. Toronto is a microcosm of the world. Every ethnic culture lives there and they live in peace under law and order. And music soothes the soul.

Good Morning

2009-09-28T07:49:00.000-07:00

July 2009

Why have we become so afraid of each other?

On a recent visit to the British Columbia island of Bowen Island I noticed a community of civility. As you get off the ferry and walk up the street you are greeted by smiles and “Good Morning.” Not just from the odd person but from many people: shopkeepers, residents, civilians, people just walking down the street. Why is this not happening in our larger communities?

I lived in Toronto and in Los Angeles and I would walk down the street and people would rather look the other way than look you in the eye and acknowledge your presence. Have you ever been in a department store and had to wait while store clerks talked among themselves? Then they break up the huddle and take off back to their their prospective departments and in the process totally ignore you. You, the customer who has been politely and patently waiting for service. Then you have to ask for service and a reluctant clerk joins you, with attitude.

In most major cities around the world, people have a hard time looking at each other and being together. “What are you looking at?” “You’re staring at me.” “Glaring.” Glancing away as soon as eye contact is made. It happens on the street, in elevators, on the bus or on the subway. And now there’s an even more private way to not engage. The Ipod. Everywhere you see the thin white cords of earbuds connecting people with anything but each other. Perhaps they are listening to an audiobook or the latest tune from U2 or Cold Play. That’s great, but how about the art of conversation?

In the USA many people live in gated communities. They jump in their car in the morning and spend endless hours driving between home and the office, then they park in an underground parking structure. No wonder people can’t relate to one another, or even try. They don’t care to. Some parts of society just enjoy keeping to themselves. One may wonder if they belong to a golf club, a tennis club or a sailing club. Do they go to the theatre, and if they do, do they make an effort to connect with other humans they don’t know? Even cats and dogs have a built in emotion that says hello to strangers. “Meow” or pant pant pant - wag the tail. Smell the “privates”.

Then there are the guns, muggings, robbers, angry people, mentally disturbed people, poor people. We, as a society are afraid of them all and in so being we are afraid to connect with others who might become our best friends.

It is such a breath of fresh air to visit a community like Bowen Island where not every one is perfect, but they do seem to understand that a natural human thing to do is to confer a greeting to a stranger.

Michael Jackson

2009-09-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

July 8th, 2009

Yesterday was the Michel Jackson memorial. He died June 25th, the day we moved apartments.

The Reverent Al Sharpton summed the whole thing up when he spoke to Jackson’s children. "Your Daddy wasn't strange - what was strange was what he had to deal with around him."

Michael Jackson was a talented genius of phenomenal showmanship ability who brought us an incredible collection of bright, tuneful music and magnificent dance numbers. In his private life he was a gentle eccentric, idealistic man who loved the child in all. Yet, he was greatly misunderstood, ridiculed and mocked by the disenchanted and cynical snobs who fail to see greatness in their midst.

One of his finest gifts was as a humanitarian and he became the greatest philanthropist, giving more money to charities than any one person in history. He made the world a better place for us all.

Yes, being human, he also had major failings. So does everyone. However, he always worked hard and tried new ideas. Creativity never dies within the soul. Had Michael Jackson lived I’m sure we would have been treated to a wealth of future artistic efforts. Probably quite different from his past. And that is what we miss with the death of an artistic giant.

Oh, you tired old cynics who scorn at such a special human being. Leave the great ones to those of us who “know” and we will bask in their starlight without you.

I kinda like photography

2009-09-28T07:44:00.000-07:00

March 2004

As a teenager, I didn’t have much of a clue as to what to do with life. It was the mid sixties and the world was swirling with great commotion: A society being dragged into the modern age, a cold war hanging over our heads, the Vietnam war off to the east, the music of the Beatles from down the road in Liverpool and the sounds of the Beach Boys beckoning from California. A fundamental change was about to happen as the leading edge of the baby boom generation was beginning to make itself known. And in my area of the Universe, I was surrounded by the world of show biz. This was the north of England, a seaside town called Blackpool, known as the entertainment capital of the north. I was young. Distractions were plenty.

As a family we had lived in Canada where I was born and as a kid I had moved from school to school because of the family moving from town to city. My father was a bank manager who moved to be promoted. Then my parents divorced and I moved to England with my mother. My studying was in a shambles. I had no consistency, no structure. Then one day when I was fifteen, my Mother took me aside, sat me down and asked me the most important question of my life. She was worried that I wouldn’t amount to anything if I carried on with my diversions rather than structuring my life around something. “So, what do you want to do with your life?” She asked. WOW. I was stumped. I hadn’t given it a thought. What was I to say? She then asked, “What do you like to do? What do you enjoy doing?”

Somehow, I knew this to be a turning point for me. I naturally thought of the theatre, show business, but I needed more time to think. I asked if I could answer her the next day. The next evening we continued the conversation. Suddenly this dreamer who had been shunted along by life, had to say something that would make a difference. I had thought at one point of wanting to run away and join the circus to become a clown. Maybe it was the smell of the grease paint or the elephants, or the nomadic life. Show biz seemed to be in my blood, but I had to be more practical.

Then, out of the blue, a little voice spoke to me from inside my head and I blurted out these words: “I kinda like photography.” I don’t know what made me say it. I didn’t have a good camera; I didn’t really take that many pictures. Again, perhaps it was the dreamer in me but it sounded practical. It was something I could learn and I had been inspired by the great photography of the National Geographic and films like Lawrence of Arabia, where I became the adventurer, the escapist and a desirous observer. That spark my mother had instigated in me put me on a career path of a lifetime as a photographer, a cinematographer and as a filmmaker.

I started as a beach photographer in Blackpool, and I went to college to learn how to do it properly until moving back to Canada to be hired by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in Toronto. They eventually sent me around the globe as a documentary cinematographer to places I had only dreamed about in my youth. This was the nomadic life. I saw real, exotic places from the pages of National Geographic and I got to see some of the railway tracks that Lawrence of Arabia had blown up in Northern Africa. I then became a Director of Photography filming feature films and TV series of Canadian and US drama, and this was definitely my circus. It all happened for me, that is, until California called and I moved to the South Bay area very near to the place where the Beach Boys beckoned me from, those many years ago.

It has been a dream of a life in my chosen professions of film making, storytelling and photography. I look back and I couldn’t think of doing anything else, and I’m now creating my own business to nurture my perpetual creative and wanderlust spirit, and to help corporations, non profit charities and individuals tell their stories on video.

Over the years, my mother and I have drifted apart but I will always thank her for parenting me at the right time in my life. She dragged something very precious out of me, my life. For what else could one ask of a parent but to inspire their children to discover their own true life-goals and independence, through encouragement?

We are all individuals who must follow our own dreams, and we almost always discover them with the help of people who pass through our lives with messages sent at the right time and the right place, like: It’s OK - go ahead - follow your dream – make your life. You have permission.