And Now Back to the regularly scheduled Future…..

So it’s another new year.

We are, right now, living in the future. Also now. And now as well. You get the idea. Time is fleeting. Or at the very least, passing quickly in a lazy, cumbersome manner.

Anytime in the next twelve months, hoverboards, flying cars, another JAWS movie and many other such wonders will come bursting out at us to officially state that “Yes! The Future is NOW”.

More likely, parts of the world will be mired in religious and political forms of persecution and turmoil, inequality will be rampant abroad and at home, and we will, each of us, continue to make ends meet and get our hands on the next generation of gadgets, gizmos and fads.

Listen:

Nothing much change from year to year. Evolution, social or otherwise is a painfully dull process. A law gets passed in one place, and a group of like minded people protest in another. Critical mass is required at all levels, for experiments to be deemed viable, for trends to take shape, for hearts and minds to shift.

Whether you are seeking justice at the hands of the authorities in which we place our trust, or the right to control what happens to your body, or just the consideration to spend your life with whom you choose, every one has a story worth telling. Every single voice is a part of the choir. Each one of us seeks some kind of achievement.

Preparedness. Planning. Goal setting. These buzz words have bounced around our collective vocabulary for the better part of the last sixty years or so. As we begin another new year, should we not then consider what we as a species would like to achieve locally, nationally, internationally?

High minded and terrible idealistic, I know. “12 Angry Men” shows us that it’s almost impossible to get a small group, let alone nations, to come to consensus.

But as we successfully arrive at the start of yet another new year, we prove to ourselves over and over and over again, that eventually, we can smooth off the edges, and find a common patch of ground on which to lay the foundations of our shared future hopes and dreams. That should be important to us, that regular, routine, mundane achievement.

Five hundred years from now, there will still be fanatics. There will still be unsavory elements to our society. It will be virtually impossible to pull ourselves away from any kind of conflict, because it is just part of who we are. For now. Until we choose to change the script. Unless we decide it will be different this time. Unless groups of people gather together, as a show of unity, a critical mass, to rewrite our story, then we can only live with our inaction.

It’s 2015. The Future is Now. And it always will be.

The Day Before Christmas

‘Twas the day before Christmas, sometime after 4,
Not a snowflake was sighted, through window or door.

The turkey was roasting, and drippings with goo,
as poor puppies waited to go for a poo.

The kids were XBoxing and shouting at bots,
Potatoes were peeled and headed to pot.

With Mother a-tubbing, and I in my chair,
The tree lights sat glowing, with nary a care.

When out on the lawn there came not a sound,
no howling, no thunder, there was no one around.

The sky was a pasty white-grey shadowed thing
That last one got away from me, but it had a nice ring.

I glanced through the pane, and then – pain in the groin!
from the boney and one-tooth-less fruit of my loin.

You see kids are oblivious to their feets and each hand,
To what they are doing and where they will stand.

It’s noisy, it’s crazy, they’re smelly but sweet.
These kids make the moments of living a treat.

We do a good job, their mother and I,
of raising these rugrats from low to up high.

They’re happy, and healthy, and most are well-read,
they are all fairly sociable, though none make their bed.

Each one is a treasure, a rare work of art,
And yes they’ll still giggle at the sound of a fart.

So as we tuck in for our holiday fun,
remember these moments, savour each one.

It’s Yule Time, it’s Christmas and Festivus too,
and tomorrow, of course….

THERE’S NEW DOCTOR WHO!!!!!

Merry Christmas 2014 to all of you, from all of us.

It’s A Wonderful Life, Usually….

‘Tis the season for sharing and caring.

All the trimmings and customs come out from the woodwork to nestle themselves among the nooks and crannies of our holiday cheer.

Unless, of course, your personal experience resembles the wreck and ruin of interpersonal thermonuclear detonation.

Family, for the most part, is amazing. A sanctified unit of unconditional love and support, looking out for each other, caring, sharing and generally doing good will towards each other. Ideally, they are the people you have on your zombie apocalypse bug-out plan.

Sometimes though, we are not so lucky. It can be an arduous, difficult process just getting from one day to the next, trying to find a small patch of common ground somewhere on the scorched earth that was your lives.

We are all individuals, after all, playing at unity.

Best case scenario, you agree to disagree, cut your losses and move on, knowing and understanding the parameters of what your relationship must be from here on out.

Worst case scenario – it’s all over, and no amount of soul searching or wringing of hands will fix it.

You can’t affect their out look. You can’t make them see what they refuse to, and you can’t undo what has been said. And you certainly can’t forget it.

So this season, be extra generous with those still within your circle. Love them, be honest, about everything at all times. Don’t hide what you really feel, but know also that they need to feel safe to do the same.

Being honest can undo almost all damage, before it begins.

But if you wait, and you sit on it, hiding it away, then it might just all blow up in your face.

It’s a wonderful life if you let it be. And no perspective, whether it be prideful or self righteously borne, is worth throwing that life away.

Bitchin’ Dude

Wow, do i whine a lot or what?

First World Problems.

My favourite tv show isn’t meeting my paltry expectations. Woe is me.

Meanwhile, a family has lost another son to some over zealous radical fanatic with a camcorder and a YouTube account. A town teeters dangerously on the edge of social destruction, and little girls are lost and far from home.

Sometimes a minor shift in perspective (read:swift kick in the realistic behind) is healthy. Our problems are ours. We are compelled to make them communal, but at the end of the day it only really bugs us. It’s our issue.

How serious is it really? Will your life go on without the right amount of sugar in your latte today?

How about that property line? Can you get by with the branch hanging over that extra inch?

Maybe, instead of pissing and moaning in 140 brightly coloured characters over the most trivial, inane shot? We can use our powers for good.

Pick a minute. Any minute, and for 60 whole seconds, you only say something nice. Something positive. Something, anything, constructive.

I know. Practice what you preach. I get it.

But if you’ve gotten this far, then thats my minute done.

See what i did there?

Woah. Bitchin’, dude.

Year One

So it’s been about a year since I committed to be committed to my blog.

Listen:

It hasn’t gone the way I expected, but it is safe to say it also hasn’t gone the way I expected. It’s like swimming in the ocean, and getting temporarily caught in the undertow. At first there is panic and a sense of foreboding, surrounded by the rushing, swirling maelstrom of dark water. Then suddenly deep breath fills your lungs, and you are sitting in wet sand looking out at the horizon. Kind of like cup of soup.

I am very shortly entering into the seventh year of my new reality. The new life i forged for my family’s well being, and my professional contentment, and it has been eventful and chaotic. Change, however, is inevitable. Seven years is a lifetime to a cell, and we all regenerate in our own time. What life used to be about is no longer what it is about now – and I guess that is why it is called growing up, sliding down from the pedestal we put our daddy or mummy on.┬áThe Orient expresses a multitude of ageless and varied ways in which to find inner peace, but sometimes we just need to find a big friendly button to reset ourselves with.

Thanks to our ability to experience the passage of Time, We evolve and accept our new realities because to not do so would drive us to insanity and depression. Time away and Time alone allows for fondness of the heart to grow, and the opportunity to recognize those parts of life that are most important. Regardless of whether it is Time/She, or Time/He, is the fact that we wear it like a burden, and stake our claim to its stain upon us, really the best thing we can do with it? How do we just let it flow?

That may sound a bit philosophically full of itself, but it (if I can, just for a tic tock, turn this linguistic robot off) sure would be satisfying to know definitively that my careful thoughts don’t mean I am becoming boring.

Letting go of that which hurts us, or injures us, is the only true way to find our way in the forest. Of the nights and days I’ve already lived, I never assumed I could be the one carrying injury within me. Still, the trees shield us from the worst of the weather, and ground beneath our feet is firm and strong, giving us safe and steady passage along that long, flat line to tranquility.

As it is, i am home, and I am once again faced with my own wandering self-actualization. I am Dad. I am Husband. I am The Caretaker and The Provider. And my family looks to me for strength and support and guidance. What can I say? Except that i am as imperfect as everyone else. I believe in the mystery and wonder of the Universe, but it scares me. I am afraid of, but believe in the necessity of Death; in Heaven, whatever form it may take; and in the simple things that make life bearable – hugs, the smell of fresh ground coffee, having a place to belong.

So we get on with ourselves and our lives as best we can, despite the disappointment in the results immediately in front of us. It won’t always be this way. There will be ups and downs and sides. I will still get frustrated by laundry. I will still forget something. And, to paraphrase Bill Shakespeare, start most mornings off by saying “Get up Son, kill the moon and all that jazz” or whatever the quote was that sounded niftier in my head.

It’s Time to refocus my focus. It isn’t actually all that bad. I just need to find my Tao. Grab myself by the collar and run headlong into the great outdoors. “Let’s go, pal. You’re not quite over the hill! Into the dale, kiddo!” or some other such Tolkeinesque frolicsome blithering.

Let’s be honest – I am not a guy that frolics. I’m just not that graceful. But you get the idea. I am basically an idiot. And that’s ok.

Be Afraid. Be VERY Afraid. Please?

So I’ve sat on this thing for awhile, but now I can share it. Literally.

A while back, I was invited by Horror author G. R. Wilson (http://authorgrwilson.com/), along with other word-crafters, to contribute to an Horror anthology e-book.

I was pleased to see via email this morning that the collection is ready for your review, perusal, insight, enjoyment and all those other words that mean “have-a-look-see”.

I’m pretty proud of my little slice of scary, and look forward to enjoying my colleagues work as well.

So, please, stand up, put your hands together, then apart, then together again for several rounds, for “Hand Full of Horror”, written by Us, edited by the gracious Mr. G. R. Wilson, and available through the Dropbox links below.

http://tinyurl.com/kqozh5c (PDF Format)

http://tinyurl.com/k2eju8t (Epub Format)

Enjoy – It’s free. You’re Welcome. Now hurry up and be scared.

Skip To The End…….

It’s funny. You know, things and stuff.

All that waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Hurry up to go here. Hurry up to go there. Hurry up and go. Hurry up and stay.

All that waiting for stuff to happen.

It seems like most everything takes forever. Especially things you weren’t expecting to go through, but you now find them permanently etched in the sidebar of your memory.

And then quite suddenly it has already happened and you are on to something else.

It makes me question whether or not Time actually exists. We think about Time. We talk about Time. We bitch about it, like, all the Time. We don’t have enough. We have too much.

We have a multitude of devices, habits and rituals that organize and pass the Time on our behalf so we aren’t sitting around waiting for the Time to run out.

But what if, just maybe, Time is all in our heads. The Universe, possibly, is just this big floating multidimensional puddle of cosmic vomit, slowly sliding down the drain of reality.

It doesn’t register the passing of anything. It is constantly moving in a state of Now.

Somehow, We are all just minnows, wading through ethereal puke, trying to make sense of the Now with a limited vocabulary and a severe case of Hyperopia. That’s fancy talk for farsightedness. (It’s okay – I Googled it. Took no Time at all.)

Once upon a Time, that would be just crazy talk. But fortunately, I think those days may be over.

Or maybe it’s all just a little bit of History Repeating. Like a “This has all happened before. And it will happen again. So say we all.”, sort of a thing. I guess Time will tell.

Man, I really need some down Time….

TL;dr Something something Time. Here we go into the HOME Stretch.