Here it comes!

I am surprised by my sense of anxiety over the coming new year. My normal outlook is one of anticipation. Maybe I have had too much caffeine this morning but when I think about all of the things I have to accomplish in 2009 - well my plate is full and stuff is threatening to fall off into my lap.

I am of to Hawaii - which is wonderful though I am presenting a paper at an international conference so it is not all fun and games. I am still waiting to hear back from my supervisor about the first draft of my formal proposal and I am meeting with him the day after I get back from Honolulu. I expect lots of work there. The actual day I return I have to start teaching a course on academic writing so that means I have to prepare a presentation for that.

Then of course I am waiting to hear if my fellowship application has even been approved by the university. All that means is that it will be sent to Ottawa where a group of faceless academics will decide if I get funding that will allow me to work on my dissertation without also having to hold down a fulltime job.

Then of course before I even get to doing my research I have to finish the proposal I mentioned. That just means more work because after that I have to study my ass off so that I can write and pass my candidacy exams so that I can begin my research. Somewhere along the way I have to get approval for my work from the Ethics committee.

I am not whining! Seriously! Well, maybe just a little. Can someone please remind me why I volunteered for this?

Frozen skies and hoser hot tubs...

The weather finally crept upwards to -16 celsius yesterday. I took advantage of the balmy temps to get outside for a little photo shoot. The skies up here in Peace River country are more than beautiful.

The sun rises late and then it simply slides across the horizon too cold to melt the clouds.

But there are ways to get warm even at -22 c. Here's to the Smiths and their wonderful hospitality, hot tub and cold beer.

Daddy what's a taxpayer?

So if I understand it correctly we have three species of human beings in this country. Now this is kind of complicated so I will try to avoid confusing you. The first is the taxpayer. This species pays all of the money into the government. Now there is a subspecies of this group know as the consumer. It pays things like the GST, a sneaky kind of tax that takes money from consumers who can buy more than food and clothing.

Then there is the voter. This is an endangered species, whose numbers seem to be declining precipitously. Apparently this species has a subsidiary role but they do not get credit for it. Based on how voters respond to an opportunity to vote, taxpayers are forced to cough up a $1.95 to one of the various political parties.

And this brings me to the third main species is the partisan or as it is more descriptively known, the card-carrying member. These are human beings who directly and publicly support a chosen political party.

But if Harpo and his merry band have there way, the taxpayer will no longer be required to pick up the tab run up by the voter. Yes, they will end the prorated subsidy for political parties because the people who are taxpayers are tired of paying for stuff done by voters. Political parties will have to rely on partisans to fund them because voters really do not reflect the will of the Canadian public except for the part about where they decide who is in government and the rest of the elected members who should stop opposing and just shut up and let the government do its job.

Remembering...

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day or Armistice Day or Veteran's Day. Whatever you may call it, November the 11th is the 90th anniversary of signing of the Armistice that ended the Great War. It was to be the war that ended all wars but now it is best known as World War I.

Like most Newfoundlanders of my generation I grew up hearing about the men who did not come home or the one's who were maimed both through loss of limb and perhaps loss of part of their souls. No one who crawled through the mud of those battlefields came away intact. My dad's Uncle Jack Temple came back with a shattered shoulder. He took a piece of shrapnel in the shoulder just before the order came that sent almost 700 men to their deaths in the withering crossfire of German machine guns at Beaumont Hamel. July 1st is their day. My mom's Uncle Jimmy Morris died there. I grew up with his portrait hanging at the top of our stairs. When I was a small child he seemed to me that he was the prefect image of the stalwart warrior. But every year as I got older he seemed to get younger until at last he was just this young man with a gentle smile. He gets younger every year now. My adult children are older than he was.

I looked for his name today when the CBC ran an item on Project Vigil. This is an amazing project created by R. H. Thompson, the Canadian actor/producer who lost seven uncles in World War I. Over a one week period culminating tomorrow the names of the more than 68,000 Canadian soldiers killed in the war are being walked across the country, projected onto public buildings and monuments. The ceremony attended by Queen Elizabeth began at Canada House in London and was then beamed across the Atlantic, to bring home the fallen. Lest we forget...

Shit rolls down hill...

I did not think I would be disheartened merely one day after the election of Barack Obama as the 44th president of the United States but it only took one article in the Toronto Star to do that. Three U.S. states ban gay marriage

According to this article two groups of oppressed people, African-Americans and Hispanics, long denied equal rights in the US have taken it upon themselves in California to perpetuate the oppression of another minority group, gays and lesbians. I find it incredibly offensive that people long punished for not fitting into the power structures of mainstream America should use their newfound political power to deny equality to others.

This kind of narrow vision and total lack of compassion is an abuse of the very hope that Obama has offered. In his acceptance speech he was so eloquently inclusive yet now his own supporters have already begun to repudiate that hope. Freedom and equality are not items to be parsed through referenda. These are taken to be inherent. America has stumbled in its first day out of the shadows,

CNN calls it...

And now we can all take a deep breath. There is a certain level of letdown that inevitably comes at a moment like this. What now? Will it turn out okay?

We have to believe it will. We cannot let our worst fears or some inherent pessimism overwhelm us now at a moment when we may have an opportunity to move away from a tired and worn out way of understanding the world of politics and power. Will the world be radically different? It already is.

As goes Ohio...

Is it over now? Ohio was just called for Obama. No Republican has eve won the White House without Ohio. I want to believe to relax, to celebrate but I cannot forget 2000 or 2004.

Still = Ohio I hear Neil Young singing but the words are bittersweet now.

Symbolic power.

Do you remember Jesse Helms? He was the iconoclastic Republican Senator from North Carolina who resisted civil rights almost to his dying breath. Tonight the Democrats took his old seat from Elizabeth Dole the incumbent. Maybe it is trivial. Maybe it does not mean much but this happened in the heart of the Old South.

Now Obama is leading in the polls there. It has not been called but already Obama is up to 174 Electoral College votes to 48 for McCain.

Sigh of relief...

Okay Pennsylvania has been called for Obama. But what does that mean? I want to believe it is a good omen but I cannot resist that voice of caution - maybe doom. Will this lead to the White House?

More importantly what does it really mean? Yes there will be change? What kind of change? Is it all an illusion of hope? In the end we all must decide to act. No leader does it all. The best leaders make people believe they can act for themselves. Maybe that is what matters the most. Having our belief in the possibility of change restored.

Hints and allegations...

Maybe it is about family. Maybe it is because many Canadians have American relatives. But whatever the connection we seem to respond to what is happening in the US in an emotionally charged way. So when I saw the first two results posted by CNN I felt a visceral lurch in my gut.

Vermont for Obama. Kentucky for McCain. But what about Virginia? Whither Florida? I may have to put on gloves to save my fingernails.

Watching the world change....

This is the first time I have ever blogged in real time but this is just too important. I grew up in the time when America fell from a state of grace to being the problem child of the Free World. That whole idea of the Free World has fallen into a measure of disrepute as well and I cannot claim to mourn its passing.

It was an idea born of a time that managed to compress complexity into a rigid model of good/evil. It left little space of questions that even hinted at the possibility of a nuanced understanding of how good people can make bad choices or any accounting for the price to be paid for decisions based on greed and narrow nationalism.

Perhaps now we can emerge from this terrible time. Maybe we could even start a whole new conversation, one that opens a space for all of the possibilities of human excellence.

Hope restored...

It struck me this morning, as Americans continue to vote that there is an enormous sense of relief emanating from this election. There has been tremendous anger directed at Americans and while much of it is in response to what has been seen as arrogance and unilateralism I believe the depth of the anger can best be understood as resulting from a sense of betrayal.

America was the first modern democracy, one that set the standard for all others that followed. It was the beacon of hope, the purveyor of dreams. America was supposed to be the "city on the hill"; not the one described by Reagan but the one that said:

Give me you tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Today that hope may be returning and the world yearns to embrace America once more.

Perhaps this time our dreams will be less ambitious, our expectations more reasoned. For if America wandered from it path, in some measure that happened because no one nation could ever bear the burden that was laid upon America after World War II. Yes, they took it up willingly but they also did so at the urging of other nations. This time as we welcome her back we must all reflect on this.

Return of the countdown...

I remember when I was a kid and space travel had first become a serious endeavour - a race actually. A launch was a major event - first the Mercury series to orbit the earth and then the Apollo to get to the moon. The climactic moment was the countdown ... 10, 9, 8, 7,... ignition - we have lift off!

The excitement waned over the years. The luster wore off and the world's attention turned to other things. Now we are facing the possibility of another great adventure - the election of hope and change - the election of the first African-American president. Some see it as the return of the light, the shining city on the hill - a new Camelot. The expectations seem to get higher each day but so do the fears.

I remember exactly where I was when JFK was shot. It was November 22, 1963 and I was in school. It was near the end of the day. Our bus driver arrived with word of the shooting. As soon as we got home we rushed in to turn on the television. I had promised Mr. Dwyer I would be back by the road as he returned to town. I would let him know the news. And I did. "He's dead... President Kennedy is dead." I was just thirteen and I had never told anyone of another person's death before. It was not the message I wanted to deliver. It was the end of hope and possibility.

Now people speak of hope again. I cannot say I have heard that word used in politics in over 40 years. I am happy to hear it but I also recognize that it is spoken with both longing and fear. There is a true longing for change and stability but there is great fear that the dreams will once again be ripped apart by some act of violence. There are many who rage against the charismatic leader. There are many to invest the charismatic leader with far too much expectation. Yet when change is needed it seldom is the competent manager or steady hand that leads the way. The status quo is crumbling. Change is already happening whether we want it or not. So now is one of those time when the entire world needs a visionary leader; a leader who can take the pieces of a broken nation and rebuild it, not into what was but into what could be.

Now it is almost November and the countdown begins again - 5, 4, 3...

Do I go bump in the night?

I have always lived inside my head a lot - maybe more than most people. Recently another doctoral student told me that my head is a dark and scary place. But she is one of these really logical kind of deeply analytical people.

Of course our prof said did say that I write in a visionary and disturbing voice. It seems I tend to raise more questions than I answer. But then I have always been somewhat more intrigued by the questions than the answers. I mean the question is what generates energy. The answer simply tends to pacify. Maybe that is why another professor introduce me to a colleague as an anomaly as in "Hi, this is James - he's a bit of an anomaly."

But really - who wants the answers when it is the questions that get you out of bed?

Contemplating more than my belly button...

As I prepare to head off to bed I cannot help but think about the federal election tomorrow. It is not just that I am a political junkie. Mo this election has turned out to be far more interesting and complex than expected.

When it was first called I saw it as an almost foregone conclusion. The only worry was the nagging fear that Stephen Harper might win a majority. That fear is gone now. I should have realized that eventually the Conservative would make a blunder that would cost them lots of votes. it turned out to be a series of them. There really was nothing major for most of Canada but they bombed it in Quebec. It comes down to a party so enamoured of its ideology that it could not imagine that anyone would care much about the arts or juvenile offenders.

The insensitivity - the absence of empathy kept spilling out like when Harper suggested the downturn was an opportunity to buy stock. Gee - I've got two kidneys. I can spare one. I could be a millionaire. Just got to parley that extra organ into some prime shares. RIM looks good.

So now I am trying to fight off the fantasies. They started creeping into my head today - whispering at my subconscious. "Liberal minority." "Harper repudiated." "Canada dreams large." Okay I have to stop now or else I'll be awake all night.

Where change actually happens...

I just completed a teaching inventory quiz. According to the results my lowest score was in Social Reform. Those who know me may be surprised as was my roommate Margo. Most people who know me imagine me to be a lat 60's radical attacking the barricades of the status quo. And back then they would have been right.

It is not that I have given up or fallen into despair. It is more that I have come to know that change happens one person at a time. I learned that lesson from a Buddhist nun who said, "I cannot change the world. But when I change myself I have changed the world." So my teaching is about the individual. As much as I can I try to speak to each student - to touch them within their own lives not to try to pull them into mine.

The faces we remember...

What do we remember? What are the moments or people that remain after years of living and loving - winning and losing. Perhaps it is different for each of us. I remember faces - eyes mostly. Maybe I think I have seen souls. I don't know.

But I remember the face of every woman I ever loved or made love to. I remember the faces of the women I desired. Some remain fresh, young. Others I have seen since they aged and that is how I remember them now. One face stands out - mostly because it was filled with pain and tragedy. She sat next to me in a university math class eons ago. I didn't know her name - though I could find it.

The last time I saw her when we were still young was in Vancouver, 1971. She was hanging with the band at an outdoor concert. We were far from St. John's and I saw her. She still did not see me.

Then years past and she faded from view. I had forgotten her and then I was back in St. John's hanging out in a favourite pub. A local band had just finished a set. They were the journeymen kind. Around the business, hanging on long after all hope was gone. Playing gigs for cigarettes and booze. She was there then, still with the band. The years had been hard on her and it showed on her face. Her eyes gave her away then. She saw me and remembered my face from the past. She saw I knew her in her devastation and could recall her in her splendour. I saw the look of a drowning person then - slipping away into the undertow.

I never saw her again but she is there now in my memory. Old and young. Hungry for love.

It seems so predictable...

I am not an economist. Sure I took some basic economics courses as an undergraduate and like anyone who pays any attention to the news I have been subjected to the speculations of economists of every ilk. No matter what their individual theoretical perspective all economists seem to live by the general delusion that the primary function is growth - wealth creation is one common descriptor.

What they never like to talk about is the notion that unlimited and never ending growth is really a fancy way of describing unmitigated greed. That fact is market economics are premised on the central idea that people at the top must gain more and more wealth so that the economy as a whole functions well. It seems obvious that there has to be a limit to growth and that inevitably the so-called growth experts would slip into untenable devices for creating wealth - or at least the illusion of wealth.

And it seems to be so predictable that in the end the bubble must burst. We saw it with Dutch tulips and we saw it in the 1920's. Now the rotten house of cards ( to mange some metaphors) has come tumbling down. Will it change anything? Not really; sure we will lick our wounds and commiserate over the venality of the few. But we will remain smugly wrapped in the illusion that the marketplace is the heart of the nation - its raison d'etre for some.

Does it matter...

There is a common complaint that arises every time an election is called. It is the whine of the isolated individual who feels that they are entirely irrelevant to the political process. It is the the voice that despairs about the power of the single vote. It goes something like this. "Why should I vote? My candidate won't win." Or like this. "Why should I vote? My party won't win." Or like this. "Why should I vote? They're all the same - in it for themselves."

Well the answer goes like this. "It all depends." It depends on whether you think that in a nation of 36 million people you can somehow expect the opinion of a single vote to immediately resonate through the system. Not likely to happen. It depends on whether you can see yourself as a member of a community. It is the communal voice that matters and that voice is created by the accumulated votes of individual citizens who understand that at best they can express their desires and hopes only in the broadest ways. The nature of democracy is that we must be willing to assign the control of our nation to the people we elect knowing that we will from time to time have the opportunity to chastise or reward them.

Is this an imperfect system? Of course it is. All human systems are imperfect not because we are imperfect but because we are complex and the role of government is to listen to the cacophony of the electoral voice and then to somehow respond in a coherent fashion. There are ebbs and flows in the political landscape as we lurch through time and space. We proceed and regress, flourish and decline. We experiment and and build. We destroy and we restore. It is the nature of our very existence and it is terribly imperfect.

And despite this we must not let ourselves to fall into the kind of nihilism that would have us abrogate the greatest gift we have as a free people. There is a simple task that each of us must undertake; we must fulfil our central role in the system we have constructed - we must vote.

Why I sometimes fall into despair...

I am an optimist at heart. I have to be to even want to to live in this insane world where we consume at a rate that we no is unsustainable. Everyone of us is well aware that the average westerner, particularly North American is ravaging this planet in a frenzy of consumption that makes the piranhas of the Amazon look like Buddhist monks.

Our oversized houses and vehicles are designed to contain our oversized egos and declining IQs. How else are we to explain our epidemic of obesity and pollution in a world in which over 20 million people live from meal to meal always near death from starvation? Meanwhile the ranks of the homeless swell every year. Our government wants us to beleive that these are the losers who simply fail to apply themselves and so naturally end up on the streets.

I almost hunger for the great cataclysm that will humble us all and reduce us to the level of subsistence that is the birthright of so many of our brothers and sisters. It is not as if we even need to look outside of our own borders here in Canada. The bitter legacy of colonialism has left so many indigenous people living in Third World conditions. For some so-called experts the answer is simple. It is their fault because they refuse to be assimilated so that they could live the great consumer dream.

This world does not need more consumers. This world needs abstinence. It need each of us to find the moral courage to accept our greater responsibility to all of humanity and to curtail this madness that is the consumer society. But if that fails I can at least take comfort in knowing that it will eventually collapse under its own bloated weight like the great rotten carcass it has become.

Please do not take this as some sort of anarchist rant. It is the despair of a moderate person who sees the possiblity of a far better world in which all of us get a fair and sustainable share of the resources of this planet - a hope denied by the avaricious consumption of his fellow citizens.

A letter to the Premier...

Dear Danny,

I am one of two first-generation Canadians in my family. But I am also a 7th generation Newfoundlander. My family has fought and bled and died for our nation. I had two great-uncles at Beaumont Hamel; one from each side of my family. One was wounded and one died. I believe I have the inherent right to speak for our people. I have to tell you that there was a time that I was proud to be both a Newfoundlander and a Canadian. But now I am just one - a Newfoundlander. The once great nation that took us in has withered. Canada begins to turn away from that great communal nation it was. It fragments into petty groups that offer bitter comfort to those in need. It beats plowshares into swords and regales in false glories.

You have two options before you. You must campaign against the Harper path and beat back the darkness that would follow him. If that should fail you must build high the bulwark that will shield us from the Harperites would sweep out of the West and engulf us all. Your response to recent cuts in arts funding does give me faint hope you will indeed rise to the clarion call.



James Butler
Black Bank, Bay St. George, NL

Life is strange...

Life is strange when you are uncentred. I realize I will be uncentred until I get back to Newfoundland. The country that we joined in 1948 has changed and now I feel like a stranger. Canada, once the bastion of the liberal democratic process is getting grumpy and bitter. Its very soul is withering and turning into a shrunken mockery of its heritage.

Even John Deifenbaker would be ashamed of what it presented as government in Canada today. He gave us our Bill of Rights. He had a wonderful vision of this land as a place that could be greater than the narrow limits of petty though. But now we are a nation managed by economists. We no longer dream of glory and greatness we seek to dismantle the very soul of this so briefly great nation.

Things have changed. Once Newfoundland and Labrador was the poor cousin taken in by kind relatives but they are gone now and in their place we are faced with petty bureaucrats who seek to dismantle the legacy of hope and wonder that they inherited. Why would we stay in such an arrangement? Perhaps it is time to breathe life into the Republic of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Things of note...

I have been remiss in my blogging the past few weeks mainly because I have been deep in thought, struggling with the oncoming fall and the fact that I am out there on the highwire and I'm not sure I have a safety net. And I cannot look down to see if it is there. I officially completed my last course as a student in the spring and after some 50+ years of being formally educated I am truly on my own. Well yes I will have a committee to guide me - somewhat. But the reality is that it is up to me to create my own structure; to establish the framework that I will use to take the next steps towards completing my PhD. And frankly that is both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Thus the highwire analogy. But if it doesn't excite nearly past thepoint of endurance then why do it? There are many choices in life and the ones we make must matter the most otherwise we may as well simply pull the cover up over our heads and go back to sleep. I simply cannot sleep through this life. It is the only one I have ever had or will ever have so I intend to make the most of it.

But less I get maudlin here there are several other itmes of note. First, my son Evan successfully defended his Masters this week and now has a mere few formalities to complete. And this week my grandchildren Connor and Eden started kindergarten. I feel a sense of continuity that is almost blissfull.

No grand visions...

It dawned on me tonight as I tossed and turned on the bed in my humid and very warm room that I really do not have any more grand visions about where my life is headed. It is not that I don't have dreams. I do but they are simply waystations along the rest of my travels through this life.

It really has become about the journey and not any fabulous destination. No more desire for wealth or fame. No need for the validation of a career that winds up the corporate ladder.

I want to teach sometimes. I want to travel often. I want to finish my cabin - at least to the point that it is secure and livable. I want to learn to sail a boat - to build a boat and then sail it wherever I am willing to venture. I want to see the sun rise on half the continents and watch it set on the rest.

I am not bitter or defeatist. I am free and alive and thrilled with the whole idea of it. This world is it for me you see. All that I expect is to know that I have lived my life with all of the love and gusto and joy that I can find within me.

Hey - where did that week go?

I thought a week ago that I was going to be in the groove posting every day. Then I suddenly realized it has been over a week since my last post. Things have been happening and I have not been taking note. Well actually I have been taking not I just have been posting.

Two major events erupted this week. Both may mark crucial turning points but we really may not know that for decades. The first was the opening of the Olympics in China. By all accounts this even may serve as a benchmark for subtly shifting the relationship between China and the Western world. That really is the relationship that the Chinese care the most about. It seems the Chinese are a resilient people something that is monumentally obvious given their history.

Yes, Egypt is the oldest nation state in the world but unlike China, it can hardly be called a giant among modern nations. China is a country that is transforming itself. I cannot begin to imagine what it will look like in twenty years but I can hazard a few guesses. If we are willing to suspend our ideological criticism of the existence of the Chinese Communist Party, we may actually discern a faint pattern of cultural, social and even political evolution. Yes it remains a totalitarian state but if we measure it against itself instead of Western Liberal Democracies we can detect the faint beginnings of true democracy and freedom.

The real problem is that we tend to gloss over our 700 years of struggle to achieve the state of freedom we have today. Somehow we expect everyone else to accomplish it overnight. "Hey - just follow the instruction kit we included in the Insto-Demo-Cracy kit!" This does not mean we should not encourage them. It means we need to take a longer perspective on it all and recognize that isolating China is not a sound strategy. It is not like we can say, "Go to your room and don't come out until you have your homework done!"

The second thing that happend this week is uglier and less hopeful. We may be seeing the emergence of an even more beligerent Russia, ready to make war on its weaker neighbours. The conflict under way in South Ossetia may destabilize the whole region. And here is where the chickens really start to come home to roost for George Bush and the US. Not that many years ago Bush was sitting on the one of the biggest piles of political currency any American president had acquired. But like a kid in the proverbial candyshop George managed to squander it on Iraq. Then he frittered away more on Iran. Now, just when he could be stepping in between Russia and Georgia he is weak and broke. Bush will complete his last term as president with his tail firmly tucked between his legs or his head shoved up his ass [pick the image that works best for you].

America, once the world's cop is now a toothless wastrel. It has little currency in Europe, less in the Middle East and cannot even flex a muscle at Russia. The road back will be a painful and perhaps humiliating one. There is no ability to maneuver. The political system in the US prohibits a major shift such as the no confidence motion which can bring down a Canadian government. No, the world has to wait while America stumble its way through ridding itself of this hapless loser of a president. Meanwhile war rages and people die.

It's been a good day...

It has been a good day mostly because I made a serious choice about something that might seem trivial to some of you but actually may signify a shift in my approach to life. Over the past three years as a graduate student I have lived on a modest budget, one that requires me to careful with my expenditures and thoughtful in my purchases.

I no longer own a vehicle and essentially everything I do own fits in two rooms, one in Calgary and one back in Newfoundland. And the longer I live like the the more I come to appreciate the freedom from the burden of possessions. Today I got my fist pay cheque from my teaching gig and I set off to buy a bike. I have been thinking about this for some time and have been considering various options. I have been fluctuating between going for the more expensive bike, the moderately priced bike or the third option - building one from spare parts.

Being a person of moderation [Libra ya know] I headed off to Canadian Tire where I had a few days previously spotted a bike that seemed ideal and that was on sale down from $399 to $249. The sale was over. I located a reasonable alternative; none in my size. Tired from all of my shopping I headed off to Kensington for a slice of pizza and a cold pop. While there I popped into Ridley's Bike Shop. The moderate prices bottom out at $500 so I did not linger. Then I began to reflect on the place I had discovered in Eau Claire market. A group of people had opened a place where they sold used bikes. You can become a member and use the facility and tools to build yourself a bike. You have to buy the parts but the very idea is so cool and so hands on. I have loved tinkering all of my life. I always took apart my toys and sometimes got them back together.

After lunch I headed off to Eau Claire and spent the next five hours playing bicycle jigsaw puzzle. It was fabulous. I have the rough makings of a bike and I will be back there on Saturday back at it.

Wondering where the lions are...

I find myself humming Bruce Cockburn's song tonight after listening to an item on CBC Radio News. There was a fascinating story that I am providing a link for. It seems a group of nine Masai warriors have gone from being lion hunters to lion guardians. This is an initiative that these men have taken on entirely independently. Essentially they are trying to educate their people about alternative ways of protecting their cattle from predators without having to actually kill the lions.

This kind of story absolutely fascinates me because it opens up the possibility of recognizing the sophistication of a people generally dismissed as being primitive herders and hunters and illustrates how our humanity can sometimes overcome the stereotypes that others would impose on us. It also shows us that we are limited only by the boundaries of our own imagination.

Of course the story is neither complete nor certain. These men have given up their livelihoods so that they can protect the lion and the herds it would hunt. They need help. Maybe this story will draw the attention of others who can provide the funding to both sustain and expand this kind of transformation.

Giving peace a chance...

I have been in contact with my former partner Fiona through email recently. It has all been tentative but then a recent event precipitated into an opportunity to heal the pain we inflicted on each other through our breakup.

I had learned this weekend that Fiona was in hospital and found out from her ex-husband Randell that she was scheduled to have surgery to remove an abscess from one of her fallopian tubes. Then this morning I got an email from her. It seems that as she was mentally preparing herself for the surgery Monday evening she started going over her "thing's I regret list" and realized she really needed to be able to make peace with me. So she emailed me this morning and asked me to come see her at the hospital.

I went and we spoke for over an hour. We both have accepted that our past relationship is over for good but that it is still possible for us to be friends and to stay in contact. We shared many good things together and neither of us wants to forget that. I came away from the hospital with a profound sense of healing and peace.

Canada is finally settling in...

Well it has taken us almost 500 years but it seems that as a nation of immigrants we are finally settling into sharing this space along the line we hashed out over the past few centuries. At least that is what Lawrence Martin writes in his latest column for the Globe and Mail. According to Martin this claim was made by our current Prime Minister (not one of his favourite people) but in this case the worthy scribe applauded the remarks.

It would be a wonderful thing to think of Canada as finally maturing - getting past the petty squabbles and serious differences that have long fragmented this country mainly along regional lines. No more separatism, no more Western Alienation, a more equitable division of prosperity not artificially created by Ottawa. Imagine, Alberta and Quebec not whining or Newfoundland and Saskatchewan as Have provinces! I am not sure I ever expected to see the day.

But before we get all celebratory it is time for a somber reflection on just who is still left out. Sure all of us immigrants are making out great but what about the people who really helped to make our prosperity possible, even our survival. When do we begin to truly honour and respect the First Nations people?

They have waited for centuries for us to recognize that had they chose to turn their backs on us, if they had not helped Samuel de Champlain and his men Canada might not exist. I am not going to bury you in statistics. We all know them. All I am asking is that we take some time to challenge our our prejudice. To open up a space at the table for them. We really do owe them that much and a lot more.

{The following is directly plagiarized from The Toronto Star's website}

Prime Minister Stephen Harper has dismissed empirical evidence that crime rates are actually falling, suggesting that emotion is a more telling barometer. Harper has cast those who point to statistics to oppose elements of the Tory law-and-order agenda as apologists for criminals.

“(They) try to pacify Canadians with statistics,” he told party supporters in January.

“Your personal experiences and impressions are wrong, they say; crime is really not a problem. These apologists remind me of the scene from the Wizard of Oz when the wizard says, ’Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”’

That assertion was echoed today by Justice Minister Rob Nicholson.

“We are not governing by statistics. We are governing by what we promised Canadians in the last election and what Canadians have told us,” he said in an interview.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, I'm back but I have a wicked headache from trying to wrap my brain around that bit I just lifted directly from a column written by Steve Rennie
THE CANADIAN PRESS
OTTAWA—

I mean I have read doublespeak before but that was mostly fiction. These are the people we have put in charge of our country. I have an almost overwhelming urging to curl up in a ball and mewl like a sick kitten.

Please stop this merrygoround. I want off!

Being sandbagged...

I was at an event put on by a couple of profs from the University of Calgary tonight. After the thing was over and while I was talking with one of them a woman turned to me - an staring at my Memorial University t-shirt asked me where I was from. I explained that I am a doctoral student at the university here in Calgary.

The she asked me what I was doing. I explained that my area of research focuses on the relationship between Aboriginal people and the Federal government. She quickly responded "We have lots of 'them' here." Followed by "We've managed to integrate some of them but I don't know what we will do with the rest!"

I have to say I was more than a little nonplussed. The best I could come up with was "Well I don't think it is our responsibility to do anything with them. I think they have to sort it out for themselves."

I walked away dismayed both at her attitude and my failure to more effectively respond to her. Yet as I continue to reflect on the incident I am keenly aware that the work I have chose to do is critical.

Housesitting...

This week I am ensconced in a beautiful 1913 cottage at the base of Crescent Heights in Calgary. The owners are off visiting family in Winnipeg while I take care of their home and two of their cats, Jake and Poppy.

If I had to choose a place to live in Calgary I think this would be it. I can walk to Eau Clair market in less than 10 minutes and to the c-train in about 15, quicker if I wanted to hurry. But then why hurry when the path leads along tree lined streets away from the noise of traffic.

The house is being renovated but in a style that enhances the original design without any real sacrifice to modern conveniences. It is early 20th century skillfully blended with 21st century ideas of comfort such as built in dishwasher, a skylight in the kitchen and a deck out front.

Paul, Jill - I may have to change the locks on the doors.

Still learning...

I am often pleasantly surprised to learn something new an unexpected source. Today I learned more about Samuel de Champlain the first French Governor of New France. The source was an op-ed piece on the New York Times website. The author is, David Hackett Fischer teaches history at Brandeis University.

In his piece Fischer offers an insightful comparison between two visionary men, Thomas Jefferson and Champlain. According to Fischer each man struggle to overcome the limits of their own time and place and to create an environment in which future citizens of their new nations, the United Sates and Canada could grow in ways that were at that time not possible to truly imagine.

Each man desired to overcome the social and cultural limitations of their own times and to inspire people to dream great dreams.

Champlain, appalled by the religious wars in France and revolted by the manner in which the Spanish abused the indigenous peoples of their New World colonies was determined that New France would be founded on the principles of peaceful coexistence and religious freedom.

While his dream remains at the heart of our nation of Canada today, his respect and admiration for the indigenous peoples who helped him and his men survive has faded from our land. If Canada is truly to fulfil Champlain's vision then we must first restore it in full measure. We must unconditionally recognize the unextinguished sovereignty of the First Nations people.

Beauty unlimited...

Whenever I venture outside of the sterile, manufactured existence of human communities into more complete place of being I am enthralled with the beauty I find in so many forms and varieties. Sometimes it is a burst of colour I have never seen before.













Or it can be the familiar seen differently














or transformed into past pleasures.



















Sometimes it is the sounds that reach out to caress your very being.






If you are really careful you may even encounter some little people. But do be careful what you wish for..

A life ironic...

I learned recently that I have a secret admirer. Well secret in a convoluted sort of way - thus the irony. Apparently there is this friend of my friend Paul who has read my blog and really likes it and according to Paul thus likes me. I even know her first name but that is all the information he will share with me. According to Paul she is "taken" so is out of bounds to me. I do know vaguely what she looks like. When I was visiting my friend Paul in Banff a few weeks back I snapped a picture of her with some friends as they passed us as we were out for a walk. They were all seated in the back of a pickup truck. I sent the photo on to Paul who shared it with and introduced her to my blog.

But S.... you know who you are so feel free to email me. We can chat. I promise to stay in bounds.

More ubiquitous than Starbucks...

I was walking down to my favourite coffee shop - no not Starbucks - in Victoria when I was struck by the number of people lined up along the sidewalk holding out hands and hats. It seems that the only thing more ubiquitous in Victoria than Starbucks these days are beggars.

There was a time when I would have called them panhandlers but that implies a certain amount of activity or effort on their part. Now they stand or squat in a sullen pose hand or hat extended waiting for the occasional coin from passersby.

How is it that in a country so rich, in a province that is thriving we have so many beggars on the streets? Of course the question of the division of wealth has been around since the invention of money. I really do not expect to answer it but I do believe it is crucial that we try. When we stop reflecting on the inequities that are so present in our wealth driven society we will lose a vital piece of our collective souls. When that day comes we will have finally abandoned our compassion and given up any pretense of trying to overcome the growing gap that defines our shared identity as human beings.

Yes, the rich are getting richer, the middle class are stuck in neutral and the poor fall further behind the rest every year in a country that has so much wealth. But that does not mean we should accept this as the natural state of life. That notion is the great lie perpetuated by those who are rich or want to join the rich.

Kicking back in Victoria...

I have to say that the week long in Vancouver was one of the most intense academic experiences I have ever had. It was a feast of ideas and at times overwhelming. Fortunately I did pace myself taking breaks from it all and wandering about Vancouver.

I really loved being in my old stomping grounds, seeing what has changed and what survives the mad dash to the Olympics. Unlike 2000 when the economy was hurting, things are booming these days and it is clearly evident from the old buildings being torn down and new bigger towers replacing them. Calgary's downtown skyline has been transformed in the past eight years but it feels like a small town compared to Vancouver which has twice the population. Another big difference is the beauty of lush and green Vancouver and the vibrancy of its inner city which does not empty at 5:30 PM. There are lots of small shops filled with people and there is a buzz that surpasses the simple dash for cash that dominates Alberta.

Certainly, being on the campus of UBC is enough to turn visitors green with envy. The beauty of that institution, situated in a massive parkland is amazing. The only really high towers are student residences. The other buildings are integrated into the forest that covers most of the campus.

First days..

It is often said that getting there is half the fun. I call this photo Cloud 9 - which is how I feel right now. It is truly wonderful to be back in Vancouver.







If you think I am trying to make you jealous with this picture of the view from my dorm room, you would be absolutely correct. The UBC campus is just a huge lush garden.

But I am here to learn and connect with people and that is also happening. Yesterday I met a professor from York University who co-authors papers with one of my key academic sources, Dr. Bonita Lawrence. She graciously offered to put me in touch with her.

After that I wandered off into the city and went shopping on Granville Island. Photos of that next post.

The left coast...

I am back in Vancouver and it is wonderful to be here on the UBC campus surrounded by such lush trees and flowers, mere steps from the ocean with the mountains nearby. It is also quite fascinating to be at the Congress - one of the largest academic gatherings in North America with some 10,000 attendees. Last night my friend Sophie and I wandered about the campus swinging between exulting in the sheer beauty of the place and railing at the bleakness of our campus back in Calgary.

I will add some photos later so you understand what I mean. But for now I will simply reflect on what it is like to be here, present with so many other people who are part of the academe. It is an interesting experience - one that I approach partly with curiosity, partly with amusement and a smattering of the surreal.

I am looking forward to seeing how this week unfolds...

Friends...

There are few gifts in the world that match or surpass friendship. I am blessed in having more than my fair share for to have one really good friend is special and to have more than one is extraordinary. Yesterday I spend an afternoon with my friend Mike. On Wednesday I had the pleasure of introducing two of my best friends, Paul and Margo.

Paul, who recently published his first novel, The Silent Time, was in Banff attending the Arts Centre and working on his next book. Margo graciously offered to drive me to Banff so we could have the afternoon together. It was wonderful to stroll through town and along the river sharing the sunlight and the conversation with both of them.

Today was a good day...

Today was a good day. I planted tomatoes and, lettuce, sweet peppers and cucumber, pumpkins and corn. But that was not the really good part. Nope, the really good part was spending the afternoon reconnecting with a friend, a buddy, Mike.

We've been friends for about 7 years and in that period we have share some interesting experiences. Today we shared some beer and french fries and caught up on the comings and goings of the past several months.

Today was a good day.

Intermittent holidays....

It seems I am going through a series of intermittent holidays. I finished my semester in April and headed of east - Newfoundland and then back to Toronto on the way to Calgary. Now I will be off to Vancouver for a week long conference and then a week of holiday in Victoria.

Then I head back to Calgary [sort of a yo-yo summer] to get ready to teach for six weeks. All in all I actually like this kind of routine where I never feel like I am in a rut. I certainly do not miss the old 9-5 grind that I used to be stuck in.

Not that I don't want to work - I just want to do it on my terms and at this point in my life pretty well everything I do is on my terms. I am finding the single life fulfilling in a way that almost surprises me. It really became clear to me while I was in India that I need this solitude at this time in my life. Not sharing a bed also means I don't have to share the decision about just where in the world that bed is and that is something I am really savouring right now.

In fact when my friend Margo suddenly asked me what it would take for me to marry again I immediately blurted out: "A lobotomy!"

Hanging out at Hava Java...

I love being back in St. John's even if it is just for a couple of weeks. One of the pleasures is hanging out back at the Hava Java, where the beautiful Katie pours me large mugs of excellent coffee.

I spent my first week home toiling away at papers that were rapidly coming due. But that is taken care of now and the rest of my time here is my own.

Transitions...

Transitions are those times in you life where significant changes happen; the kind that only happen once. Some are minor - you taste your first beer. Some are major - you hold you first born child in your arms. Others are simply profound and affective.

On Thursday I attended what is likely the last instructional academic class that I will ever attend as a student pursuing formal education. Of course that does not mean I stop learning or even never attend another class. But it does mean the end of a phase in my formal education since it is the last class in course work for my PhD. It represents a period that began in September 1956, when I had my first day of school - with my sister Gwendolyn as my grade one teacher. Thus it represents the end of some 52 years of formal education.

The event on Thursday might not have been so profound except for another occurrence. On the same day I place my first text book order as the instructor of record for an undergraduate course I will be teaching this summer at the U of C.

In the same day I moved from student to teacher, an event that marks a significant transition in my life. It is unique and profound and come with a certain feeling of melancholy. I have felt this sort of change only once before, when I graduated from high school in 1967.

Where to now?

The postmodern experiment or project has served its purpose. It really is the death rattle of modernity and so leads no where else. It is the unwelcome messenger who delivered the news but who no refuses to leave the funeral. And it is long past the time when we closed up the earth over modernity and dispatched with the miscreant messenger.

But that leaves us in the difficult position of not having a new humanistic project. Ever since the Renaissance western civilization has moved successfully from one age to the next. The Enlightenment gave way to the Industrial Revolution which produced Modernity and its antithesis the various Romantic revolutions that tried in van to resist the age of the machine.

We have survived most of our terrible errors but at horrific cost and the bill has not yet been fully tabulated. The industries that brought us to our current state of excess remain dominant, resisting our hopes of restoration of the fragile ecosystem. They insist they must plunder it further so that we avoid some dreadful economic collapse. Pity that we may not survive to enjoy the fruits of our labour. But then it does seem to be more than a little poisoned.

Where are our great thinkers today? Will we ever produce another Kant or Hegel? Can we ever expect that another Socrates or Plato, a Mary Wollstonecraft or even a Sappho will grace our lives? We are at an impasse where all we have are the reactionary wars between Socialists and Marxists. Feminists still struggle to liberate women as they seek to bring the long overdue equilibrium and equality to our world. But theirs is a necessarily a narrow vision that does not seem to me at least to move past the problems of the day, the injuries of the past.

This is not an age where much credence is given to thinkers. This is the age of glamour and fame where the shallow pathetic life of the latest Hollywood star or the drug abuses of the current top athletes absorb the masses.

Yet there has seldom been a time when we were more in need of a visionary mind that could articulate this madness, to speak to this society that cannot seem to resist the excessive consumption that must in the end destroy it.

Perhaps this is the end of philosophy, the final failure of humanity to exceed its own limitations to surpass its own humble beginnings. Perhaps not...

Maybe it's spring...

Tennyson wrote that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never have loved at all. Perhaps it is the approaching spring but I realized the other night that I miss being in love. There is something terribly wonderful, something sublime about being in love.

The sweet agony that is love reminds us all of what it is to be truly alive. We are after all physical beings and that yearning for the simple touch of another sits at the centre of every truly human heart.

Love in all of its madness and glory has left scars across the human landscape for thousands of years. It is perhaps the greatest of human inventions and one that is both our redemption and our curse.

Why does it matter?

I just watched the end of another post-apocalyptic television series on an American network. Jericho.

So why is it that non-Americans like me are affected by this kind of show? Why do the emotional cues and triggers that are directly tied to the American mythos work on others?

Much of the world sees America as a failed experiment, one where its citizens fell prey to the most venal of desires - where a dream of equality and freedom mutated into a nightmare of excessive individualism and monstrous greed.

But still we are affected by shows and movies that portray the notion of redemption - where the American Empire collapses into the arms of its own rebirth. We ache for our cousins to be redeemed so that their dream can be restored to its original purity.

And it is the American Dream that still fills us with desire - with a longing for a utopia where all are free and equal and want has truly been abolished. It is the secular Eden - built by human society in its own idealized image. For who else has dreamt anything so marvellous, so ambitious, so completely human?

The buzzards have landed....

.
It seems that Jaipur Jimmy has landed in Calgary and is up to his nefarious ways again. This time his victim is one innocent young lass by the name of Margo - who reached the tender age of 60 today.

After softening up his victim with breakfast in bed, he led the poor young innocent off to her fate.

Here and now...

I face a daily struggle in my life yet it is one I chose. It is the attempt to be present in my own life, my own place in time. I believe the present is all that we truly have and while we cannot avoid wondering about the future or reflecting on the past our existence is momentary and fragile and we can miss that which we truly have.

This is not intended to trivialize ideas of spirituality or philosophy or other forms of critical thought. It is to try to understand that we must also embrace our very existence every day. We must wake up to the wonder of being alive and go to sleep knowing that our lives a finite and be thankful for the gift of every moment, hour and day that we are here.

I cannot reject the world. To reject it is to cast aside the wondrous gift of life; to belittle the amazing fact of a world filled with beauty and wonder along with ugliness and horror. And I can never forget that all of the ugliness and horror of this world is of our making. We not only opened Pandora's box, we first constructed it. But I do not despair in this or else I would go mad.

Instead I chose to believe that humanity will either overcome its arrogance and failures or else it will cease to exist. Yet life will continue without us if we fail. For now I chose to embrace the fact of my existence. I will continue to strive to be present in my own life and in those who are near to me.

Contradictions....

This simple jar - made of terra cotta and filled with cool sweet yoghurt. It has become emblematic of excess for me. What can be more ironic then that? And yet it has.

Just a little over a week ago I was travelling on the train from Jaipur to Delhi along with the two other graduate students from the University of Calgary. Our tickets had cost the grand sum of 995 rupees about $25. We were travelling in the first class air conditioned car and from the moment we had boarded we were brought a seemingly endless stream of food and drink. In a nation where people struggle to survive we were being fed to excess.

And then we felt debris banging at the undercarriage of our car. The train ground to a halt while excited employees ran back and forth. With thoughtful translation of an Indian woman sitting near us we learned that we had just experienced the suicide of two young people, likely refused permission to marry. Apparently such suicide by train is not uncommon. Is this then an excess of love or an excess of control?

And now this simple jar will be the vessel of this memory.

Leaving something...

While in the first of three villages that we visited I encountered a woman with her grandchild. Wanting to make a connection with her I took a small photo of my twin grandchildren from my wallet and offered it to her. I pointed to her grandson and then to myself. Smiling she took the picture and pinned it to her grandson's shirt just after I snapped this picture.

There truly is something universal about the love we have for our children and grandchildren.

Rural India...

India remains a predominantly rural agrarian society with an estimated 77% of its people dependant on subsistence living. While I personally do not regard this this as not inherently wrong or bad for its people, I do recognize the fact that subsistence living is full of built in risks.

For example, the three villages we visited in Rajasthan all are living with a drought that has lasted over 5 years.

Their adobe like homes are beginning to crumble perhaps because they cannot afford the luxury of using water to repair them.

Fields lay fallow with no crops planted for 5 years. Only the thornbush remains bright and green. The men of the villages find work in area where there has been enough monsoon rains and bring home a share of the harvest to feed their families.

Despite this hardship the people seem full of life and joy, welcoming visitors. Here a woman brings water in the traditional way.





A herder stops to allow me to take his picture as he brings his sheep and goats to water.


Water buffalo, prized for their milk cool off in the rapidly evaporating water.

On the distant shore, bricks of mud that will be used to construct and repair houses dry in the sun. Life goes on.

What Norway does...

There is an air of triumphalism among the oil patch and its supporters in Alberta these days. Steady Eddy Stelmach who threw open the doors for the industry by extending to infinity the deadline for environmental action in Alberta has been re-elected. All that can be seen in their collective mind's eye are the dollars piling up not the destruction of our environment on their oily altar to greed and consumption.

Contrast this with Norway, which built a vault to store the precious seeds that produce the food to nourish us all. "A frozen garden of Eden" is how the Norwegian prime minister described it.

Well I guess that means Fort McMurray must be the coming fires of hell.

The power of love, the weight of history...

There are many sites to experience in Uttar Predesh state in India; the first and most famous has long stood as a monument to the enduring love of a man for a woman while the second exudes a sense of the weight of history and the ambition of one man.

Having its beauty revealed by the rising sun is the best way to first encounter the Taj Mahal, a place built as the grandest tomb in the world. Inside its builder lies next to his wife. She is at the centre while he is to her right; even in death offering homage to her.


The white Indian marble glows in the early morning light. The floral patterns are various inlaid gemstones that glisten and shine like tiny eternal flames assuring us that the love that inspired Moghul Emperor Shah Jahan still burns in memory of his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.





Not far from Agra, about 30 km can be found the long abandoned city of Fatephur Sikri. The great Moghul Emperor built this city as his capital. Here he greeted his people and welcomed those who could offer him wisdom and knowledge. Though illiterate he understood the power of both and understood them as being superior to military might alone.














In time Akbar's city was abandoned, apparently due to a shortage of water, yet it remains an enduring symbol of one man's greater vision.

The real experience...

My primary purpose for being in India was to attend Partnering for Change a development project organized by my professor Dr. Aradhna Parmar. She brought together academics from the University of Calgary, the University of Rajasthan and the Univesity of Jammu along with representatives of several NGOs and the Indian government.

We gathered in Jaipur to explore ways in which we could contribute to the enormous work that is being undertaken to assist the most needy people in India. While I learned a great deal at the conference, the two days I spent with the people in three rural villages in Rajasthan were truly transformative. My life, my entire sense of who I am and the responsibility that I carry have been changed forever.

In the photo above I am surrounded by some of the children in the last village we visited along with one elder. They endure with great joy under conditions few of us could bear to contemplate. The monsoon rains have not brought sufficient rains to fill the dhoras that act as reservoirs for the. They have not planted a crop in over five years and the men of the village are forced to travel to other villages where they can earn a share of crops to feed their families.

Yet despite this hardship our host brought us glasses of sweet chai and glasses of liquid yoghurt. It is impossible to not be humbled by this experience and to be drawn to serve them in some way.

Jaipur Jimmy in the palace of Akbar...

Akbar was one of the greatest of the Moghul emperors of India and here I am standing in his palace at Fathephur Sikri in Utter Pradesh. Well rather it is my evil alter-ego that emerged when I went shopping with two professors from the University of Calgary, Dr. Wisdom Tettey and Dr. David Mitchell.

Now days before Wisdom and I had discussed our shopping styles while wandering through the duty free shop at Heathrow. I had described myself as a "hunter gatherer" focused on my, moving quickly in for the "kill" and then withdrawing. He concurred with this description but later under the pressure of trying to select the "perfect" shawl for his wife he revealed his real technique, "the browser" a pattern I generally associate with the avid shopper.

Now while Wisdom agonized over the vast selection of scarves and shawls I quickly bagged one for my daughter and a second for my granddaughter. [Yes I am revealing the gifts I selected but it is for the greater good. I am certain my daughter will understand.] But I digress...

Having bagged my targets I then turned to helping Wisdom to get through his turmoil. I carefully offered suggestions, praising the quality of the workmanship and displaying delight at the wonderful prices being offered by the helpful young salesman. Sensing my keen desire to aid my troubled comrade, the young who had a good command English idiom hailed me over to a discrete corner. "Hey Jimmy!" he called in a stage whisper, nodding to me.

Now concerned that the young man had mistaken me, with my grey hair, as a man of means, I carefully explained that I was but a poor student, while my two companions were both professors. His eyes lit up in understanding. He drew out a beautiful shawl, the colour of pearl grey. He passed it to me while revealing that it was made of Kashmini silk and wool and was handwoven over a period of three months. It cost the princely sum of 200,000 rupees. [It takes about 40 rupeees per dollar. I will let you do the math.] He urged me to bring it to Wisdom, which I did, simply offering the same information with the added words: "It is like holding a cloud in your hand!"

Now at this point I realized that I had provide all of the facilitation I could and with a cheerful goodbye I left the shop, where my companions remained to conclude their business.

Some time later that same day two other students from our group visited the same premises. When asked where she was from one of them explained she was a student visiting Jaipur for a conference. At this the same young man who had been so anxious to make a sale to Wisdom, shouted "Are you with Jimmy?"

Thus was borne my alter ego. And to conclude this tale I will that Wisdom did make a purchase, in fact he bought four shawls in his desire to bring home the perfect gift for his wife.

Reporting from Jaipur, Rajasthan, India....

It is incredible to be here but dismaying to realize that my time is half up already. I have met so many amazing people and seen so much, yet so little. During our first day we toured Delhi.

Here I am waiting for the tour bus.

This photo is taken in front of the India Gate, the national memorial for World War I.

Two nights ago we had dinner at the local polo club and last night we were hosted by Maharaj Jai Singh at his palace. Tomorrow we head back to Delhi to get the luggage that has not yet arrived. Yes - I may be wearing some of your souvenirs!

After that three of us are off to Agra to see the Taj Mahal.

Getting excited....

I have been getting lots of questions like "So are you excited about going to India?" I usually said yes but the fact is I had not really felt it until today. It is often the oddest thing that can set it off. I happened to look at a calender and realized I was merely a week away from leaving. Maybe it is because a week is a period of time I can hold in my conscious mind. I can count the sleeps - imagine my routine passing before my mind's eye.

So now yes "I am excited!" As I wrote to a friend today this is an opportunity that hold the possibility of transforming my life in profound ways. If nothing else I will move out of my cultural cocoon into a world I have often imagined but never experienced. As my friend Margo often quotes "A mind expanded can never return to it original size." This is not tourism but is an opportunity to engage with people inhabiting an entirely different lifeworld. My lifeworld will be ineffably altered by the experience. Thus my level of excitement is understandable.

This upcoming journey has made me acutely aware of where I am in my life's journey and it is as if I have returned to a familiar place but as an entirely different person. I am back at the horizon I last faced when I was about to graduate from high school. I can still recall the sense of hope of the limitless possibilities that lay before me. Of course back then much of that was illusion and the stuff of dreams. That was over 40 years ago and I have managed to gain some little experience and perspective since then.

I have not become jaded or cynical. I still can see many possibilities and I still retain a powerful sense of hope. Yet this is tempered by the knowledge that whatever I aim for will require sacrifice and hard work. I can choose between illusion and possibility. I am no less excited by the world that is opening up before me for all of that.

The return of hope...

Hope springs eternal... Faith, hope and charity... The great black hope...

There is a word that seems to be gaining prominence in the current electoral struggles in the US - hope. It is a word that has been long absent from the lexicon of politicians on both sides of the border. In Canada it has not been heard since the early days of Pierre Elliot Trudeau. In the US it disappeared after the deaths of JFK, RFK and Martin Luther King.

It has been as if we all abandoned hope and tried to replace it with simple greed mixed with fear. In Canada we began to obsess about government debt and deficit spending. Our American cousins first followed suit and then shifted to fear after 9/11.

Now we seem jaded and cynical. We have put our politicians on a short leash where they continue to snipe at each other like the pack of mangy mongrels that they are while south of us, an emotionally exhausted and disgruntled American public has been revived by the possibility of hope as a political them for the first time in this new century.

Hope is not yet dominant but it is gaining ground as was made clear by the results of yesterday's primaries. People desperately want to believe in the American Dream but that is only possible when their leaders are able to light the way ahead, to illuminate the darkness of these times and to overcome the fear and desperation that eats at the Heartland. Barack Obama represents hope and the people of America are listening to him. He may not win the Democratic nomination but he has changed the conversation. Hilary Clinton is faced with an enormous challenge. She has to diffuse the charismatic energy of Obama but she must not crush the hope that he has ignited in the people she wants to lead.

On being single...

I read an article in the Globe and Mail today about the new singles - men who chose to not commit to a single monogamous relationship. This is not the old roue or Casanova who just want to play the field. It is a much more profound decision where a man choses to remain single because he is happy in his singularity. For some it is in fact celibate life. For others it is one of serial monogamy.

There has been a great deal of attention paid to the single female - sometimes portrayed as a kind of fatalism where a woman comes to accept that she has paid the social price of career over family. But the scenario is radically different for men. Some have never married. Others have tried and failed.

I fall into the second category. I was married for over 22 years - in fact I was legally married for 25. Then I began a second committed relationship that lasted another 10 or so. Now I find I really cannot imagine myself ever choosing that again. I have to be honest here. Part of my decision comes from an unwillingness to risk being hurt.

But more importantly, the critical fact that tips the balance is that I am very happy being single. Now do not get me wrong. I still desire women. I still love their company and enjoy the pleasures of making love and being intimate but I value my freedom so profoundly that I know I could never again commit to be with just one woman forever or even for a long time.

India...

Life is good. My life has become amazing. I had an extraordinary holiday in Victoria. I came home relaxed and refreshed [and promptly came down with the flu] but that is trivial in the grand scheme of things.

I came home to discover I was being offered an opportunity to travel to India. I was invited to enrol in a graduate course in Intercultural Developmental Studies, part of which includes participating in a workshop in Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, India. Once the workshop is over I will have over a week to explore one of the most beautiful cities in a beautiful country.

Images and sounds from my holiday....

I offer here images and sounds from my time in Victoria...


















I did see other less dramatic beauty as well...



In many places...




















And in many forms...

But always I come back to the water...