the family secret.

 

my family gatherings, since returning to canada, have always felt a bit like a bad netflix movie: 'detective nathan returns to his home-town to solve the cold-case but uncovers long-hidden family secrets in the process.' only at least one of those long-hidden family secrets appears to have been me.

you'd think that in the last fifty or more years one or another of the family elders would've mentioned my existence, never mind my endeavours, to their various off-springs. obviously that's a ridiculous notion. at any family gathering i simply feel vaguely like everyones' wondering who i am and why i'm there. i simply feel vaguely like my existence in the family has been a well-guarded secret: a strange kid who ran away to india, spent a few decades in monasteries and ashrams, doesn't eat any meat, doesn't smoke anything, doesn't drink alcohol, doesn't even want a wife and we don't mention him. in truth, that would be giving myself way too much credit or importance. they're not thinking anything at all, not at all, truth be told. so i make myself comfortable, mingle a while, and eventually i simply slither stealth-fully away. 

i recently drove to sudbury for just such a family affair, stopped first in pembroke to visit a child-hood friend. she's olde, old enough for me to add an e, but seriously lovely: a seriously lovely, dear olde lady. her old cat hid for most of my visit, showing himself only after a while. even then he kept looking at me sideways, like a cousin, unsure, sizing me up. i didn't mind, didn't let that deter me from enjoying time together with my olde friend after so long.

mattawa is kinda nice, kinda not so nice. it's probably a rough place to live in some ways, rough around the edges. the park beside the river's charming, but i've seen so many parks beside so many rivers. i guess i'm jaded, or old. in fact i'm jaded and i'm olde. it just occurred to me, while sitting on a bench, that those proverbial riverside parks in all those small towns are a bit like painting up old houses: the shiny brand new coat of paint might simply be covering up so many flaws. 

the carpeting throughout the hotel was scary and my room was tiny, filled completely by a huge bed. essentially my room was a bed with a bathroom. one of my two bags was my kitchen and pantry. because i'm... different. because i'm not into moose-meat or whatever delicacy was on offer up in mattawa and beyond, i brought my own stuff. i woulda heated up dinner out on a table in the charming park beside the river, had it not begun to pour. so i set my camping stove up on the rickety bedside table. but, as i prepared the soup i'd brought, wouldn't you know that the smoke alarm would go off. i had to deal with that super swiftly before whatever fire-brigade mattawa has came crashing in. after that i shifted kitchen onto the bathroom floor, with the fan on, eastern style.

i was feeling uncomfortable in the night, which of course is not unusual. only i was also feeling stuck in the horrid smelly little room. so i went out to my car even as a storm raged and the bright lights of a laundromat lit up the world. i wandered a bit in-between downpours and eventually decided to go back in. and i woulda if i coulda only i couldn't. there was a procedure as described by a sign: 'wave stupidly at the sensor above the door and when a red light finally decides to come on place your dirty room card on the pad beside the door.' i tried many times unsuccessfully. eventually around six-thirty i phoned for the owner. he was quite good natured about it, showed me the exact procedure, not quite as described. but of course i assume that not too many guests go wandering out in the middle of the night in mattawa.

sudbury and the family affair was as previously described. and it was also beautiful. it was a beautiful, warm, heart-felt gathering of the clan. the kids and grand-kids are a good-looking, happy, friendly bunch. i connected after a few long years with my brother and sister-in-law, whom i adore, a couple of olde cousins i've known my whole life. i felt blessed to be there. it was well worth one or two uncomfortable nights, too many tim horton coffees and one near miss on the drive home. 

 

critical thinking.

 

"may your choices reflect your hopes rather than your fears." nelson mandela. 

i bought my current vehicle, a twelve-year-old 'highlander', because the sales-person told me they're the preferred vehicle of the taliban. i could not stop thinking about that. terrorists love 'toyota highlanders'. i didn't have the car checked by my mechanic, didn't even look underneath for rust. i just kept envisioning some axxhole standing up through the moonroof holding an AK47 with absolutely no concern that the car might break down or get stuck in the sand.

years ago i bought a bed off 'facebook marketplace' solely because it's adjustable and even has a massage function. when the lady who was selling the bed told me it vibrates i inanely said that i've always wanted a good vibrator. she just kinda looked at me strangely. and after purchasing the thing i've virtually never even adjusted it, and frankly i find the massage function mildly irritating. the only time i ever used either function was during the height of the pandemic, after weeks of isolation. once or twice i found myself raising and lowering both ends incessantly while simultaneously switching through the different massage modes.

i bought a house once because my dad told me it was a bad idea.

critical thinking is the intellectually disciplined process of actively and skillfully conceptualizing, applying, analyzing, synthesizing, and evaluating information gathered from, or generated by, observation, experience, reflection, reasoning, or communication, as a guide to decision-making. suffice it to say, that's never been my style. a friend recently remarked that my decision-making style more closely resembles a squirrel crossing the street. it was of course a valid point.

having said all that, i must add in my own defence that some of the worst decisions i've ever made somehow proved rather miraculously to change my life in the best of possible ways. i wrote a book a few years ago that cost me some friends. it was really a dumb decision to write it and even dumber to publish. and yet it has proved to be the book i'm most proud of having written and even prouder for having published it, (for sale tomorrow at the wakefield market.) returning from india after many years, for that matter, and settling in wakefield, where i'd never ever been, were terrible decisions that i'm so very fortunate to have made. 

the worst of all of course was the decision, made many many moons ago, to leave a promising and lucrative career with 'canadian press' to pursue a new interest in something really flakey called meditation. it just seemed obvious at the time, a no-brainer really, in spite of having exactly zero money. i reasoned that the value of directly experiencing buddha-consciousness, christ-consciousness, krishna-consciousness would be priceless. and having spectacularly succeeded or fruitlessly failed in that endeavour, i can only say that it remains the absolute best of all my terrible decisions.

"there are no wrong turns, only unexpected paths." mark nepo.