Monthly Archives: August 2014
GoT irony?
Park near home – Part Two
And the further adventures of a man with a camera…and a supermoon-lit night.
- I like the contrast with the yellow flowers behind
- The blue background was a perfect contrast for the flower
- Don’t strain your eyes…just liked the noise of the underbrush
- The afternoon sun had these guys quite active
- The reds seem to hide in the tall grass
- This bee wastes little time on individual flowers
- Stopping for a quick nosh, the yellow moth rarely rested
- The supermoon is extra bright tonight
- People dot the beach trying to get a photo of the moon
Robin
Laughter has died,
But for a moment,
As the jester reposes
Into tranquility.
Frenzied fantasies
Silenced of a sudden,
Cut off from a world
Unable to keep up.
Rest frightened clown;
Be still and be whole;
Clap hands with peace,
As we clap hands in mourning.
The hurricane is stilled;
Black clouds soften;
Yet we will laugh anew
Bearing scars of ache.
Robin Williams meant the world to me. A supernova of mirth and tears, bravery and anger…and always, just a man.
Today, the man found his end, as so many of his ilk have.
But his legacy will echo for eternity to brighten our nights and nourish our souls.
Sleep, noble prince, assured that we are better for knowing you.
Park near home – Part One
That is, a park near home…not a request that you park your car near your home.
No special reason for these photos (and the next batch) other than I needed some exercise.
- Red-winged blackbird munches on a beetle
- A largely unused gazebo centres the park
- These flowers almost seem candied the colours are so rich
- Could never get the male to stay with the female cardinal
- Simple fountain spews up in the middle of the park
- Didn’t see the fly until I worked on the image
- This little wasp almost appears to be two creatures she thins so
- This one followed me for some time to make sure I left the area
- This is a new bee species for me…seems related to bumble
- I had wondered if I would see any amphibious activity
Comments
I can think of no better use of language.
It’s entirely possible that we developed language just so we could mock the way other people used it.
Journey, not destination
In the last couple of weeks, I have spoken with many friends about the concept of happiness as it pertains to life’s pursuits, which has forced me to give thought to my past experiences and the reasons why happiness eluded me for so long in my life. The following is the sum of my thoughts.
Life is not about destinations. Or perhaps I should argue that a happy or satisfying life cannot be about destinations, because destinations are temporary at best and completely illusory in truth.
We have been taught that it is important to set goals, to aim for a destination, and to a limited extent, I agree. Where I struggle, however, is in the assumption, the programming that suggests the goal will bring happiness, that at your destination, you can rest.
For most of us, this sets up a couple of problems.
If we do not succeed in achieving our goal or reaching our destination, then not only have we failed, but more insidiously, we see ourselves as failures.
But even in those situations where we achieve our goal, arrive at our destination, we are faced with the daunting and disheartening revelation of “Now what?”
For despite the momentary glow of success, we cannot rest. We must seek the next goal, identify the next destination. And the cycle repeats, ensuring that for all but the rarest of us, we will fail, we are failures.
Part of the challenge is that for many people, the idea of a goal or destination presupposes that we are not sufficient in the now, that our lives are incomplete and would somehow be better over there.
We don’t make enough money. We are alone. We have not achieved the heights for which we are destined. We—as we are today—are not good enough.
It is good to push boundaries. It is good to strive.
And while those two statements may sound contradictory to the questions I raise above, to what I have decried, I don’t think they are.
Pushing. Striving. These are actions, not endpoints. And that makes all the difference in the world.
A goal or a destination, a predetermined endpoint, is fine, but only in so far as it gets you moving in a direction. After that, it is meaningless.
Life is in the movement. It is in the process. It is in the journey, regardless of where that journey takes you.
Destinations and goals give us opportunities to shift the direction of that journey, but they are not the point of or the reason for the journey.
We are like photons in the universe of our lives. Without movement, a photon has no mass. When we cease to move, we cease to exist.
It is our movement that gives us life, and our interactions during that journey that gives that life meaning.
Feel free to set a direction, but be prepared for and welcome the changes that come along the way, for it is in that journey that we will truly live and ultimately find happiness.
An example from my life:
Early in my writing career, I worked for a magazine in Washington, DC. Every year, my boss and I would set goals for the next 12 months; e.g., 3 features, 10 department articles, 20 short pieces. And being a little Type A, I would accomplish my benchmark within 3 months. At the end of the 12 months, I might have tripled or quadrupled the expected output.
I would demand a promotion, and I would be told no…there were apparently other factors not included in my annual goals before I could be promoted. This pissed me off.
But surprisingly, even when I received the promotion, it was not enough. I needed the next one. I set the goals and again, felt held back despite achieving the goals.
And very quickly, the job I loved, the job I practically ran toward every morning in anticipation, became a leaden weight. I ceased to write for the love of writing. I was miserable.
In hindsight, I can see now how much I learned on that job—not the least of which was “office politics”—but at the time, all I could see was failure. It was the journey that helped shaped the man I am today, not the endpoints. I might have been happier had I realized that then.
The following video is a rather clever summation of my thoughts. Thanks to my friend Agah for pointing me to it!
Losing two hours to “The Book Thief” – a review
I just finished watching The Book Thief and I must admit that I am quite conflicted.
Released in 2013 with an amazing cast including Geoffrey Rush, Emily Watson and the mesmerizing Sophie Nélisse in the title role, The Book Thief tells the story of a young German girl adopted by aging parents in the months leading up to World War II.
Through Liesel’s eyes, we watch fascism take hold of Germany while good people try to lead simple lives. We watch her struggle to comprehend anti-Semitism through conversations with a young Jewish man her parents are hiding and at the same time, find her own gift for words through her exploration of books. We see the beauty of love and the pain of uncertainty.
All in all, the film was beautiful and heartfelt. And yet, in the end, I feel like I have witnessed a life, not heard a story.
Liesel floats through the world that moves around her. In only the rarest of instances does she actually drive the story forward. Instead, people and the fates make decisions for her at every turn. She is not the protagonist or hero of the story; rather, she is the victim of events.
Adding to my challenge is that, despite its setting in WWII Germany, there is no real conflict in the story. The ideological conflict amounts to Hitler bad, everyone else good. And even here, it’s discussed within isolated groups. There is no—or very little—confrontation between the two camps.
As our hero, Liesel has no goal and therefore nothing stands in her way. She has no need to make a plan and therefore nothing truly thwarts her.
And perhaps because of this—at least spinning out of this—there are never (NEVER) any repercussions of her actions or those around her despite the number of times the screenwriter (Michael Petroni adapting a novel by Markus Zusak) or director (Brian Percival) have set them up.
(SPOILER EXAMPLES)
When the vicious little Brownshirt Franz threatens to expose Liesel and her little friend Rudy for keeping secrets, nothing happens. When Liesel’s friendship with the Burgermeister’s wife causes Liesel’s mother to lose her valuable laundry contract, there are no repercussions. Even her spilling the beans about a Jew hiding in the basement has no impact on the story.
As we would describe in screenwriting lingo, there were no turning points where the hero has to make a decision, and there was no crisis and therefore no climax to the story.
Thus, my conflict with the movie.
A visually interesting film, acted beautifully, and yet I was unable to invest in the story at all because I never felt anything was in doubt. Where there were the odd surprises, they were telegraphed by the narrator, who popped up so haphazardly, I could never figure out why he was even in the story. And the choice of who narrates is also very odd.
And then, one after another, the loops of the bow-tie formed as the story came to a close, everything being explained away to leave the final screen moments devoid of meaning or feeling.
Sad, really. There was so much to like about this movie.
Gone buggy
Another beautiful Friday afternoon in my neighbourhood means another day to haul the camera out .
A few exo-skeletoned flappers from Toronto’s The Beaches district.
- These lollipop-like flowers were all the rage today
- The bee would flit from ball to ball
- Could watch these guys harvest all day
- These butterflies just refuse to rest
- Must be the only one who walks toward bees, wasps and hornets
- Only ladybug of the day
- A wrestling match of sorts
- Until one of the bees let go and fell away
- Finally, he stopped to display his lovely colours
- Between bright sun and yellow plastic, this spider was aglow
- The bumble almost fit completely within these flowers
- Hard to get good contrast on this image but liked the combination
- Goofing with my b/w-colour game
Neighborly Toronto!
A wonderful photographer who likes to explore Canada set his sights on the street signs that define a swath of my home Toronto
The melting pot that is Toronto is notably defined by its many distinct neighborhoods. By the time I realized I was working on a theme with these signage shots I had already overlooked about a dozen or so too many feet-miles earlier to readily retrace my steps.









































