Smiley Words

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

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

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

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

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

“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.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=58HdRSTAFec

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

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)

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.