To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

Tennyson

I should become a monk

Its been an adventurous few weeks. So much to do, so much work. I’m uncomfortable with it, although I’m doing what I intended to do. I suppose most folks would laugh, given the state the economy is in.

The longer this goes on, the more I think I should be a monk. Not that I want to hide from the world, but the more I put myself in it, the less happy I am, regardless of how successful I may be.

I’ve been down this road before, so many times.

The days are rocketing past while I take care of things. I’ve made a lot of money, and a lot more is on the horizon. I enjoy a lot of what I’m doing, but it’s banal, so empty. It’s making money to survive. Living to perpetuate life (or more accurately, a lifestyle), which is so far below that of which human beings are capable.

The price is time, which is life itself.

There’s a hackneyed saying among new – age folks: before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. The problem is that this was written in the Tao thousands of years ago, when survival was uncertain and life really was about just carrying on despite whatever wisdom or enlightenment you manage to develop in a life of struggle.

Now we live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, and As I’ve said before, we have an obligation to do more with our human potential than just surviving.

Those who don’t have our privilege must think we are nuts. Given half our chance I think most would put down the axe and bucket, and see what life really can bring them.

I’ve lived with lack and I’ve lived with material abundance, and it really doesn’t make much difference. Tracy picked me up a silver and gold bracelet for my 50th and it was too small, so I told her why don’t you keep it? She likes stuff like that, so it made sense to me. But no, she was adamant that she wanted to get me something nice for my birthday. I tried to dissuade her (it really was a lovely object and I didn’t see any reason for her not to take it), but she was on the verge of being hurt, so I let her take me back to the place and we exchanged it for another one, much larger and absolutely stunning, carved by an Aboriginal artist in Alert Bay.

So I now have this beautiful bracelet, but the fact is, it doesn’t really matter to me. In the end, it was about what Tracy wanted. She gives to me all the time and I know her love, so this object wasn’t important. It still isn’t.

I’ve found several ways to make money, but in the meantime, I’ve lost touch with so much that is important to me, like quiet time, like my art. Last year I did a lot of home reno work, but because it supported my lifestyle and future goals, I didn’t mind it so much. But now? The only reason to do it is for the money. Not to buy new sails so I can sail away, not so I can afford to sail around the Island. I don’t know why I’m doing it because I don’t know where I’m going in my life, and so I can’t feel like it’s a valid sacrifice.

Legitimate labour is labour you would do whether you got paid for it or not. Labour that defines who you are as a person. So far, all I can say that fits that bill is sailing and writing, with the occasional dabbling in vehicles when my head gets too spongy from too much thinking. That and living aboard and helping people and spending time with family and friends and I’m happy as a clam.

So why am I doing it? Good question. I suppose because I don’t know what’s coming up, and maybe it’ll come in handy. Because it’s so usual in our culture as to almost be instinctive. Because it keeps me busy. Because it makes Tracy happy.

 

I had a disturbing insight in my Buddhist class the other night. The core of Buddhist thought is the notion that desire and aversion is the source of all human suffering. We define ourselves by what we like and what we avoid, and so to avoid these things is to avoid that which strengthens our sense of self. The self is an illusion we actually create by our instinctive impulse to move towards or away from things. Diminishing self is key to diminishing suffering.

What is fascinating is that we knew this two thousand years ago, and yet it’s only recently become part of our paradigm of personality development. We theorise that this is the same process of personality development we see in children: desire and aversion in our relationships with others is how we create ourselves. In loving relationships we move towards, and in negative relationships we move away. And if no one is there to move to, we adopt negative behaviours because we have to have one or the other to develop the self.

We see in situations where children receive neither positive or negative attention, they literally wither away. No ego develops, which is our key energy source for survival. No ego, the body gives up and the child dies. This is empirical fact.

The problem for me, is that due to the lack of desire attention I received growing up, I resorted to aversion attention. I was in trouble all the time. I grew up learning to push against things in order to define myself. It started in early childhood and became how I defined my relationship to the world.

I had many personal successes, but few in my relationship to systems, organisations and structures, because I didn’t know how to embrace, only to push away. Over and again I would use my skills and knowledge to locate myself in a situation I thought I wanted, only to immediately begin pushing against it.

Lack of trust, lack of faith in others, a need to be unencumbered, to be “free”, meant that I’ve spent most of my life as an archetypal lone wolf. The consequence of this has been enormous, because the individual can do very little completely on their own, in isolation.  I’ve reached a fraction of my potential because humans do far better being part of something larger than themselves, than going it alone.

But this is who I am, who I was inadvertently made to be. Even now, I’ve written 4 novels and had not one published because writing is a solo effort, but publishing requires engagement and working with the publishing community. Far easier to say “fuck them” and keep on writing

 

More recently, this has emerged with my relationship with the church I belong to.  I recently asked to be maintenance person; no one has really taken on the responsibility over the years – no one with my skills at least – and so perceiving the need I offered myself to the board. I asked a reasonable hourly rate, because I knew that this was going to be a lot of work, and volunteer efforts only go so far.

My offer was accepted and I flung myself into the responsibility with a passion. I soon found major problems that needed to be dealt with immediately, and began working on them.

That’s when it turned ugly. I suppose there was an element of “shoot the messenger”, because people were appalled and distressed by the sheer scope of the problems I found, although I felt vindicated that someone needed to be responsible for building maintenance. Years of neglect had really left things in a bad way.

And not only vindicated, but I felt a real pleasure in belonging, being needed, and having an important role to play in the community. I was using my skills for the greater good. I researched, offered knowledgeable opinions and solutions. Although I charged for some of my time, I saved the institution thousands of dollars.

I’ve spent so many years flying solo, it was an absolute thrill to find this place for myself.

But after a short while, I began to get pushed out. I went away for a weekend and when I returned discovered that a lot of work had been done in my absence, including on some of my own work, without anyone consulting me. I sent a strong letter to the board asking what was going on, and received an equivocal response. Meanwhile, further repairs have been done, including hiring other people, without a real explanation.

The work I had done was thorough and professional, and I see no reason for any complaints, and yet found myself shouldered out, by a group that I thought were my friends.

It’s an old story, and I’m sure we all have similar experiences. It hurts because I thought – yet again – I had found a place, but it wasn’t to be. I suspect I had unknowingly intruded on other’s turf, other’s who had been there much longer than I and who did their best to keep things going without benefit of my skills or knowledge, and who were threatened by my presumption. It’s far more than a simple oversight.

Over and again, I’ve run into that dynamic, and one of the reasons why I have chosen a fairly solitary path. When I was a child and youth worker, I offered to do individual counselling with the kids in our program, without change in my status or pay – simply to do more for these wounded, vulnerable kids. I was underemployed, as I had a graduate diploma in art therapy and wanted to use all of my skills. None of the other staff had my qualifications.

But the team turned it down. Lots of excuses were made, but the unspoken reality was that the fear of my colleagues and my presumption to reach beyond them that was too threatening. Essentially free therapy for wounded kids, but they wouldn’t have it. It would make them feel second class.

And it feels like the same dynamic is happening now. The problem is very clear, and the solutions immediate and apparent. But equivocation seems to be happening and I am pushed aside – not even consulted after I have already done an enormous amount of work on the project. It makes no rational sense, and since it does the church no good, someone somewhere must be getting a need met.

I quit working as a child and youth worker soon after my experience there, and I’ve thrown in the towel with the church as well.  Perhaps I should learn how to press back against these kind of forces, but it seems such a waste of my energy. Over and again I’ve found myself limited by other’s choices, and so I decided to pull on my own. I’m not perfect and by God I make mistakes, but at least my limitations are my own and not someone else’s. It’s a much lonelier path, and scarier, because there is no committee to dilute the responsibility or fault. When I fuck up, it’s really mine.

A final note to whoever contacted our boat broker hoping to get a “good deal”, as they have read on this blog that Tracy would like to move ashore, fugget about it. This is no divorce sale, and if we don’t get what we want, we will simply keep the boat. Of course it’s only  natural to try and take advantage of the situation, but there is no “situation” here. Good luck on the next boat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Born to Hang

T. E. Lawrence died in a motorcycle accident.

 

I finally got a few moments to update my blog, and that’s cause I got sick. What a relief! I was supposed to go to Buddhist class tonight but as the day wore on, the sniffles began and I started going downhill. The rate I’ve been pushing myself I’m not surprised. I should try meditating, but I just don’t think I can concentrate.

I haven’t been in the best of ways, lately. For one thing I was in a motorcycle accident last week. When the engine was replaced on my Honda Passport, the neutral safety interlock wasn’t properly hooked up. This means it can start in gear. I was on the bike and I cranked it to full throttle and without checking to see if it was in neutral, gave the starter a kick. It wasn’t in neutral. It started up with a roar, did a wheelie and took off with me on it. And wouldn’t you know that just at that time a vehicle pulled out in front of me. BAM! Right in the door. It all took less than a second; I didn’t even have time to let go of the throttle before I hit.

I was pretty shook up by it, but walked away fairly unscathed. I consider myself lucky, as I could have been much worse; as it is I just have a sore back and neck.

Right now I have more work than I know what to do with, but some of it is becoming challenging. I’m the official/unofficial maintenance dude at the “church” I go to. (it’s not a church). A lot of things have been going wrong over there, and it’s fallen on me to take care of it, as best I can. Unfortunately, the building was designed in the early eighties, when California style architecture was all the rage. What this means is that it was a design more suited for a warm, dry climate, not a temperate rain forest, and consequently we now have “leaky condo syndrome”. The roof is well past it’s design life, and it’s a bad design at that, and so we have water infiltration all over the place.

What started as a single small leak and some bad drywall has morphed into a massive headache and potentially tens of thousands of dollars in repairs. The more I investigated and repaired, the more I found. In the past, I would normally have done such work for free, given my views on the corrupting influence of money, but due to certain pressures I decided I should start charging the rate I charge other customers for home renovation work. It’s still a lot cheaper for the church than it would cost to call in people.

I expected to get a bit of work here and there, but this problem has suddenly exploded. I’ve spent a couple of weeks working on the problem and countless hours researching and writing reports without charge so the board can have the best advice and information on how to proceed, but they are concerned about the skyrocketing cost.

I feel caught between the problem and the bureaucracy. Because I care about both the building and the community, I’m working hard at fixing the problem and informing people about how best to proceed. I’m the “front line worker” as it were. But of course administration is alarmed at the cost (although they haven’t seen anything yet), and I feel guilty about being paid for my work. I’ve got a ballooning problem on hand, and a board upset about costs on the other.

Because I’m personally evolved, I will stay the course, but I would really prefer to bail. My plate is very full of other work (I have another client waiting for me to start, we have a massive contract coming down the pike, I have a novel to pitch, and two camper vans to finish), so it’s not like I need the money. I’m certainly not irreplaceable, but I have the advantage of a very broad based skill set and education, and so can offer information and perspectives that the next guy with a hammer might not be able to. It’s a very complex problem, and I want to be part of the solution. But it’s as if others see me as part of the problem, because I’m costing money. Maybe they would prefer to see me out of the picture. Or maybe by quitting I would be letting them down; I’m just not sure. I do believe that the work I’m doing and how I’m doing it couldn’t be replicated for the same money.

All this is part of a backdrop where I still haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. As I mentioned before, ever since turning fifty I’ve felt rudderless. Or maybe it was once we signed that damned contract with the boat broker, I’m not sure. I have two, possibly three family members with cancer, and that adds to the distress of turning fifty – the whole “time is running out” thing.

I wish I could get a better handle on this malaise. It makes no sense, but then again, when one is in the mythical labyrinth, not knowing where you are going is inevitable. And that’s where it feels I am, lost in a labyrinth. Other than sailing to the Caribbean, I’ve done everything I’ve set out to do, and while that’s all fine and good, it has only dumped me where I am now. A lot wiser and knowledgeable, all primed and ready, but aware that all that I’ve done up to now was just practice. Just learning.

It feels like school is over. Time to start using what I’ve learned over the last 50 years. But for what? That’s the part that eludes me. So instead I piss around doing all this busy work, making money, fixing this, restoring that, and wondering what the hell its all for. I trust that the answer will come to me but in the meanwhile it’s very uncomfortable. And time is running out.

Repairing VW Westfalia panels

Anyone who has owned one of these campers knows how banged up the interior panels get. And lets face it, they didn’t exactly make hem out of stellar material. You can get the odd finished panel from suppliers but most are NLA and the ones that are still available are outrageously expensive.  So I make my own.  VW used painted, thin plywood or pressboard and I’m using mahogany door skin covered with faux leather. The only colours they had were white, black, red and brown, so I went with white. Pity the next owner.

I used the old panel to trace out the shape. I cut the door skin with a jigsaw. That’s the white vinyl under the panel.

 

These are all the interior panels in a Westy.

 

The vinyl has been trimmed prior to gluing. Getting around the corners and into those small cutouts will be tricky. I used spray-on contact cement. I hoped to use staples, but the plywood is just too thin.

And viola, it’s done. You can’t see details, but it has a soft, corrugated texture, like leather would. Much nicer than the old, busted up panel. Four more panels to go.