Exorcising Ego

I haven't been blogging as much as I'd like lately, mainly because I haven't felt that my thoughts were worthy of publishing lately. That, and there is a black hole where Wi-Fi goes to die at my mom's house. Among the many positive traits I am developing, I regard ego-busting to be high on my list, as I believe ego gets in the way of living a humble existence.

This story began last spring, when Carl and I were discussing the Grouse Grind. Not hearing the warnings of the story, I decided that I too would like to be one of the proud, the elite, the few survivors to climb to the summit (or at least to the pub) of Grouse Mountain. The warnings were many, and involved pointing out the level of shape a person should be in, but I didn't hear those. I'm in good shape, I thought; hamburgers create fuel that I can use to climb easily to the top. Maybe I can even do it in under an hour!

Finding myself in Vancouver last weekend, I decided to phone Carl and see if we could go. As luck would have it, he was available last weekend (he'll be busier this weekend, but that is for another post) and off we went. As we left the parking lot, I still maintained a vision of reaching the top in under an hour, and having enough breath to converse about it. As we began a steep section, Carl was explaining that on flat sections like these, he usually attacked it to make good time. Wait, what? I wanted to ask him what he meant, but the air is really thin at Grouse Mountain, and I was having trouble disguising my gasping wheeze.

I soon discovered that he was right, but I was still enjoying myself, although the forest seemed very damp, the kind that soaked through clothes and plastered my hair to my forehead. We must have climbed an awful long ways up, as I was still finding the air "thin".

Before the halfway mark, I abandoned all hope for a one hour time, as we had already passed that. My gasping wheeze had become like a donkey braying, and I stood out against the granola munching mountain goats like Rita MacNeil at a yoga class. I valiantly struggled on against the thin air and my increasingly heavy shoes. After what seemed an eternity, I saw the halfway mark, and through the pounding drumbeat in my ears, I heard Carl explaining that meant altitude, not distance. That meant it was getting steeper, if that were possible.

I soon realized that it was possible, as I labored on hands and knees up the scree. The trail resembled the stairwell Frodo & Sam climbed on their way to Mordor, right before they met Shelob the giant spider. Carl bounded on ahead, taking photos, admiring the view, and generally enjoying the afternoon, and I laboured under the weight of a thousand hamburgers. At long last, we reached the summit, and had some sandwiches. At this point, it is critical to rehydrate the body to prevent any damage from dehydration, and a hefenwiesen worked quite well in that regard.

This has been a long post, but the point of the story is this: life is made up of moments that we remember, and when we look back, we see a series of moments stretching back into the grey fog of distant memory. This will be one of those moments for several reasons: it is always good to get out with friends to enjoy Canada's wilderness, and I am grateful to Carl for providing this opportunity. It is also good to have a more accurate view of one's general condition, and not the invincible view that Ego gives us. This allows us to more accurately judge whether or not we should be lifting washing machines or other appliances, or even to offer to help someone move! But most important, I spent a glorious afternoon hiking with a good friend I've known for over 25 years, and this I will remember fondly for many years.

Sitting in a pumpkin patch

Standing in a pumpkin patch. That was what I was doing on Saturday night. In different times, I might have been waiting for the Great Pumpkin, but on Saturday, I was enjoying the feelings of standing in a pumpkin patch. Waiting with my camera for the muse to come to me, being in awe of where I was standing, I started thinking of where I had come to.

I have come to the fork in the road, dear reader. I have been downsized now, and my future is much less clear than it was. With the world in economic turmoil, the planet in crisis, I sat down in that pumpkin patch, and reflected. And you know? A pumpkin patch is a good place to reflect, because it starts you off in the right direction. For pumpkins care nothing of Wall Street, pink slips, or gas prices. They care nothing for status symbols, or whether or not I own an iPhone. Nay, sitting in that field of gourds, I was reminded of bounty, generosity, and a general concern for whether there would be frost tonight. The reader will forgive me for taking a walk on the esoteric side of life to clear my thinking; I began by thinking thoughts of gratitude.

In times of struggle, or in times of good fortune, I believe it is always best to begin with gratitude. It is easy to be grateful for good tidings, to be thankful for a great meal and full belly, for a new car and a good job. That's a good warmup, like a pre-game stretch. What brings perspective is to look at your life - look at everything in your life - and to find a reason to be grateful for it.

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." - from Hamlet , Wm. Shakespeare; Act II. I believe this should be written on the ceiling of every bedroom in every house in Canada. Think of it - everything that has happened in our lives, we have labelled "good" or "bad", or sometimes "ugly"; but it is our thinking that makes it so. And it is within our power to change that label, so as to use that experience as a positive force or impetus. Our lives are a perfect balance of sights, sounds, smells and things, in a perfect harmony of what we can bear, although we don't always think it at the time.

The key to living a meaningful life is to feel grateful for everything in your life. Everything. The challenge is to look at the "negatives" and to see them for what they really are; neutral events we have classified as "bad". The next logical step is to see that neutral event as being a positive influence. On my right hand sits a ring, engraved with the words "This too shall pass." It reminds me that no matter what is happening, it will soon change. I have been given an opportunity now to turn photography from a passion into a career; from a daydream I had in 1996 into a reality in 2008. One of the more cryptic conversations I have ever had was with a photographer, in 2006. I can remember word for word his advice to another up and coming photographer: "Do you want to know if you can succeed? Then quit your job, begin paying rent on your studio, and get your wife pregnant. You will soon realize if you are succeeding." He looked at me and said, "Have you heard of the 80/20 rule? It applies to photography as well. Photography is a very good business - for some." (Here's where I expand on that). There will always be weddings, there will always be a need for portraiture, and there will always be a need for good images. Those that can provide them will be in demand, and in that regard, recession-proof. Flikr, Twitter, Uncle Bob with his camera - these are all real, but to a pumpkin, they are neutral. To a good photographer, they can be motivation to become better, instead of standing still. When I was photographing a wedding recently, having Uncle Bob (not his real name) off my shoulder with a newer, more expensive camera inspired me to shoot better; to watch my background even more; to animate my subjects even further; to play with my lighting even more carefully. And to be rewarded by his exasperation when his photos turned out differently than mine did was quiet affirmation that I have become better than I was. I'm not competing with him, but with myself. He was just a reminder to me to give it my best.

If anyone has any comments on this or any other post, I welcome feedback. I may not agree, but wonderful things can be learned from dissenting viewpoints.

- Kees