Hergest Ridge

How arrogant, insatiable, vain, and egocentric, to stand on a mountain top with all the world below, and have the gull to ask for more from life than this? If there is anything that the Alpha Course makes apparent, it is that human self-importance really has no limits. Centuries after its been established that our planet is not at the centre of the universe, our egos remain where we once believed earth to be.

Well that is that and this is this.

Will you tell me what you saw and I’ll tell you what you missed,

when the ocean met the sky.

You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye.

When the earth folded in on itself.

And said “Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell

are really there, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste death?

^{Excerpt from Ocean Breaths Salty by Modest Mouse}

^{(Good News for People Who Love Bad News)}

There I was, sipping my tea, comfortable, with a wall of pixels before me, reading up on The Secret dogma. The Secret, The Opus (about to invade our planet, “building on The Secret foundations”), What the Bleep Do We Know? - the whole lot of them with the quacks on stage and their diploma mill credentials… when the phone rang. On the line, The Secret’s biggest proponent I personally know, a self appointed life coach ready to sell advice for five digit dollar figures - leather couch sold separately.

“Daria, I was just thinking of you” - cough, wheeze, tea coming out of my nose.

The proof was right before me, filling my ear with non-sense I’d pay not to hear. Alas, I am Canadian, too bloody nice to tell Daria she’s useless on top of the ground and ought to be under it, inspiring the cabbages.

This episode is the most evidence I have for any claims laid by the Law of Attraction phonies. Sure, it’s anecdotal, circumstantial, statistically insignificant - but maybe I’m just being negative. What I’ll try instead is dreaming of Scarlett Johansson. I can’t wait until she calls.

In the end, Hitler saved us some trouble. There was a time I wished that a trail, sentence and maybe even an execution could have taken place. Somewhere inside, a switch flicked. To a sick mind an execution may have flicked a different switch - one labeled “Martyr”. Then, I wonder if the system would have delivered any satisfying results, assuming such outcome possible.

Hitler died in a dark cellar - a rat, belly filled with poison. No cameras, no denials, no final “Deutschland über alles” echoing for the rest of civilisation. No procedure to look back on, flaws depicted and “should haves” tugging the mind.

Some opinions stay anchored for life - others are crushed with an eyelid - and then it’s only proper for a new journey beginning; a journey in search for roots of the equinox. In the end, real wisdom lies in questions for only a fool has all the answers - life’s toughest questions have no real answers. What you think is trivial, why you think it is paramount. And by the time you begin to understand how a specific opinion formed, all you may be left with are new questions.

I suffer no unease from my sudden new opinion, but am filled with curiosity for the threads of its fabric - these, I gather, will offer a much deeper insight into myself.

A hundred little things to do, here I am posting an entry instead.

The active weekend will be felt for a couple of days in the form of sore muscles, mainly a result of landscaping. The hole in the foot - courtesy of a dry branch meeting the foot bare - will make its presence felt for a few days longer. Good timing. The other foot just healed from another incident.

Friday, along with part of the family, we drove out to light candles on Tom’s grave in celebration of his birthday. Since his sudden health decline and subsequent passing away in 2003, the tradition has been established by my mom as a way of honouring his memory. He in turn has given the family a chance to do something together, a gift of sorts from the other side. After lighting the candles, the celebration of life continued with a picnic lunch on the beach side and a good hour of swimming.

I find the practice of celebrating life favourable over mourning the dead, and want my friends and family to throw a party when I’m gone. If I had a tombstone, it would read ‘Here lies an atheist. All dressed up, and nowhere to go’, but instead I’d prefer to be cremated, and my ashes returned to a lake. Any lake that is special to those dispersing of my physical remains.

Moving onto other celebrations, Folklorama concluded on Saturday. I managed to squeeze in a couple of pavilions on the final day, and an ethnic beer at each. I much prefer the European beers to North American, for they come in larger containers. Sure, there are other reasons, but it’s difficult to look beyond the most obvious. Prost!

This year we had no trouble getting into any of the pavilions. Lineups were non-existent, and I finally figured out why. I have not seen a single tour bus visiting the pavilions, and gather that with the majority of the buses in the past originating in the US and the exchange rate as it stands, there had been virtually none. I bet that if the dollar stays the same, next year we’ll see less pavilions, a casualty of the exchange rate.

Sunday evening I took a walk through the Stone Wall quarries. I can’t believe how few bugs we had all summer long, and today was no exception. I can’t recall such nuisance free evenings in my entire 15 years living in the Canadian prairies. I love fall and winter, but this summer having been so nice, it’s hard watching it draw to an end.

The coming weeks will be busy, as I prep for a tour of Europe. A bit of extra work to help pay for the expense, as well as ensuring that I have nothing to worry about when I am away. It looks like the fun will start on September 17th, but final confirmations are still pending. So yes, it will be busy for a while yet, and since my schedule is changing again this week, I’ll need to find a new rhythm. Just when you find your groove, something bumps the playing field and your familiar track is nowhere to be found, but I’ve no complaints. Not even about the pain in the foot.

Magnetic car ribbons are a pet peeve of mine. It wasn’t always like this. There was a time where the odd ribbon here or there, tacked onto the back of a car was a nice accent, a reminder for something special. These days, everyone has one of those things on their car, and the only theme not yet covered is “Potty Trained Baby on Board” (do not get me started on the ‘Baby on Board’ signs).

Give it up already!

Why do I get so worked up by the ribbons? It likely has to do with the limited ‘activism’ the practice encourages. People buy a freaking magnet, stick it on their damn car, and think they’re making a positive change - they figure because they have a “Support the Troops” slogan on their car, that they’ve done their share; that it somehow absolves them from the real responsibility. The insanity doesn’t end there. “Rest in Peace John Paul II”, “Keep my Husband Safe”, “Support the Earth”… how about “Will You Be My Brain Donour” instead?

Added to the insult is the total lack of creativity in expressing a message. Bumper stickers have the potential to be clever, or funny. Here, we have a cookie cutter solution, where the action stops. The ribbons are a placebo, where often a real cure is needed.

Please, do your part and move all ribbons from the back of your vehicle, to the home refrigerator. When you’ve done that, consider an action that makes a real difference, before you feel all fuzzy and warm inside.