Today I am feeling grateful for four things. First, Jacob’s laughter. Andrea and I regularly comment that we have to get an updated version of his laughter on video because when he gets going when he is giddy, it is incredibly infectious. Tonight was no exception! Thanks, dude…
Second, Jacob’s new-found computer skills. I think I’m grateful. Double-edged sword. I have joked about Jacob being eventually able to hack my computer, etc, or that he has shown Nana things on her iPad. Well, Jacob has learned how to move the icons around on my phone, so he decided that all “his” apps should be on “his” screen (I have one screen where most of his games were). But “his” list has grown to include some of my games, like backgammon. So he just went into the folders where they were and moved them all over to the other screen. He’s seen me do it, and it’s not rocket science, but I was a bit surprised last night to find some of my favourites suddenly missing!
Third, it’s a bit weird, but I am grateful for living in Canada where there are selections of goods like at Ikea. Way too much time there this afternoon, to get only a handful of things, but the selection was nice.
Fourth, I am grateful for the moon. My blog earlier today for my goals was about the wish to get back into astronomy, and tonight’s moon was awesome. I ended up just doing a bit of naked-eye observing, but it was a clear moonrise today, hanging out there for all to see and enjoy.
When I was doing my vaguebooking countdown, my third one on the list was “03. Three people who have inspired part of the announcement (Aliza, Vivian, and Stephan)”. Aliza was already tagged in the first one, since she was a part of helping me figure myself out during my Tadpole years (age 28/29 to 33/34). And thus was a key inspiration for goal #1 — PolyWogg 4.0.
I tagged Vivian too but didn’t explain why in the last post. She was the one who invited me to present on HR competitions to the young officers at CIDA in the early 2000s and to appease HR, we had to name it a “completely unofficial guide”. It was my first formal presentation of my tips and tricks, which also meant I had to write something down. Eventually, it became my deck, and I’ve used it almost countless times (actually I’ve presented to about 250 people so far on my way to presenting to 1000, and it’s zipped around the government email system an unknown number of times at different departments). Now I’m in the process of writing it as a book. So while lots of people have contributed to the development of my ideas over the years, Vivian was definitely a catalyst both for writing something down and the eventual name. And the related goals of 500,000 words this year plus finishing my HR guide.
Stephan, by contrast, is a more recent inspiration for a giant goal this year, and one I haven’t previously announced. When I was about 12 or 13, I think, I got a telescope. It was a hand-held thing, more a mono binocular than anything, and like most people who get the same style/design, my interest waned pretty fast. You think, “Wow, I’m going to see amazing things” but then you look through the cheap scopes and think, “Meh.” It’s not much different from naked-eye observing. And since I didn’t have a star party or anyone else around who was interested in the sky, I didn’t jump on board. Fast-forward about 25 years, and a couple of the planets were low on the eastern horizon, with enough conjunction (which basically just means they’re close together in the same part of the sky) that they made the news. Stephan had a telescope and offered to show it to me. So off we went, over by Dow’s Lake and the Agricultural Museum. It wasn’t the best of observing sites, but it was darkish. I remember that I didn’t like the setup for his scope, too fiddly for my taste, which sounds like I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth. I’m not, and Stephan knows this too, but the choice of the type of mount and setup is about your own style of observing. I’m a grab and go type of observer, not a “let’s spend a lot of time setting up and getting it perfect” observer. Stephan has an equatorial mount, which is more finicky than other types of mounts. But regardless, I saw a planet. Plus some other constellations. I didn’t swoon, but it did whet my appetite for more astronomy. We even went to an RASC presentation at the S&T museum to see photos from the Saturn probe. Cool stuff.
Fast-forward another five or six years, Stephan is pushing his astronomy park idea, I’m on the board and doing the website, and I bought my first telescope with money from my inheritance from my Mom. It is a much simpler mount than Stephan’s, different style scope, etc. If I’m just doing the scope and setting up in the backyard, it’s 10 minutes tops from start to finish to get set up, and that includes alignment. It doesn’t include schlepping all the stuff from the garage to the backyard, setting up the table, etc., but those are all accessories.
Unfortunately, my interest in astronomy waned a bit last year. In early August, something futzed on my mount (there are three parts to a scope — the mount (i.e. tripod it sits on), the optical tube (i.e. the part that people think of as the real scope), and the eyepieces). The mount is what rotates the scope to look at the various parts of the sky, and mine comes with computerized controls and motorized movements. A fantastic beginner scope and suits my observing style perfectly (I borrowed five or six scopes from the RASC library last year, and still prefer mine the best). But the mount’s electronics and gears stopped working together, forcing me to send it back to the manufacturer for repair. It was gone two months, early August to mid-October, prime viewing time for astronomers in our time zone and latitude. I was so disheartened with the repair time, that I started to lose interest. I even stopped photographing the sky. It doesn’t help that the last three months have been exceedingly bad for night skies — only a double handful of good nights between mid-October and now to even do naked-eye observing. I haven’t even tried the scope since I got it back.
Which means that I need to re-kickstart and commit to astronomy. It’s all Stephan’s fault, of course, but in the meantime, I need to set my goals. And here they are.
First, I’m going to commit to moon fever. It is the easiest thing for astronomers to start with, and there are a lot of choices of targets on the moon’s surface. It is amazing to see the ridge detail in even a small scope, and mine is way overkill for such a close object, so it should be good. In practical terms, it means I’m going to blog about my experience, of course, as I complete the “Moon observer” certificate with the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada (RASC). As part of that, I’m also going to learn at least twenty-five major landmarks on the moon. And, last but certainly not least, I’m going to image the heck out of the moon, including completing a full cycle of images (likely spread over several months, but day 1, day 2, day 3, etc. and publish/print it as a collage with the full moon in the centre). I’ll even try for the lunar eclipse on September 27th.
Second, it’s time to check out a planet or two again and to use my collection of filters to see different types of detail. I have to order a couple to complete my set, but OPTTelescopes seems like a good choice, reasonably priced. For my schedule, I’ll concentrate on ones I haven’t seen much before or combinations/conjunctions such as:
Mercury in the first week of May (or early morning on October 23rd);
Venus in the first week of June (or early morning on December 7th, including a daytime occultation);
Jupiter with Venus on June 30th;
Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Mercury in the dawn light of October 8th or Moon+Mars+Venus+Jupiter in the dawn light of November 7th.
Heck, even this month I have a shot at Venus and Mercury (Jan 9th at dusk), Mercury alone (14th at dusk), Mars and Neptune (Jan 19th at dusk), Venus and Mars (Feb 20-21), and Jupiter’s moons occulting with a triple transit (Jan 23/24). I’ll also check out the Perseid shower on August 12-13 and Geminids on Dec 13-14. For my first Astro imaging of stars, I’m going for Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Andromeda, Orion, and the Perseus Double Cluster.
Third, I’m giving serious thought to attending StarFest this year in August, but at the very least I’m going to make it out to Nirvana near Denbigh or head to some areas in Quebec that I’ve heard about. At the outside edge of possibilities, I’ll think about a trip to one of the big dark sky sites for Ontario.
Finally, I need to tie myself to the community. That mainly means RASC and the continued involvement in AstroPontiac, but I will also do more engagement with the online community, including blogging about newbie experiences.
Stay tuned for photos. And remember, it’s all Stephan’s fault. Or moon fever. One of the two.
I’ve been promising a big announcement for just over six weeks, and while some might think it is just “Paul setting his goals for the new year”, trust me, it’s different. How? Let me start with how I got here.
I started by looking back. Way back. And I realized that my life, or at least my levels of personal development, can be broken into three general phases.
First there was “young me”, maybe up until about Grade 11. Call him PolyWogg 1.0…I’m sure there were early beta releases, but somewhere around Grade 7, I realized two things that made me “unique”. First, I was pretty good at academics and most of it came easily to me. I wasn’t an athlete, I wasn’t the funniest guy, I wasn’t a bad boy (the edgiest thing I ever did was wear a hat that said “Take A Flyer”, which was short for “Take a flying f*** on a rolling doughnut”), and I wasn’t any woman’s dreamboat. Second, I was an extreme introvert, and didn’t mind spending time alone rather than trying to win more friends. I wanted a few close ones, not a dozen acquaintances.
So I was “book smart”, with my brain leading me into my future. Later, around Grade 11, I realized that not only was I good at figuring out systems, rules, computers, math, logic, etc., but also that I actually enjoyed writing when I wasn’t worried about a formulaic grade calculation. I’ll post more about that in coming months probably, but for now, suffice it to say that I realized that I was a decent writer (yay for Grade 8 teacher Mrs. Elaine Gallagher who predicted that my writing would take me further than my math skills).
From Grade 11 (age 17-ish) to age 29, I moved into a new version of me. Call it PolyWogg 2.0 if you will. I did university in Peterborough, had my first serious romance, went off to law school in B.C., made friends and more than friends, learned a lot but was mostly unhappy, and moved back to Ontario to do a co-op at Foreign Affairs. I found that I liked policy, programs, even corporate files, and that I was pretty good at most of them. I basically found my career “calling” in government, something that hadn’t happened in law school. On the personal front, I had a year of hell between 1995 and 1996. A significant romance died, my finances were in the toilet, government hiring was frozen, I stuck my toe further into the consultancy world. I was trying to get a few things on track here and there. Managed to get a term with Foreign Affairs, started straightening a few things out (I was car-less, living in suburbs of Nepean, with poor bus service, and working 60 hour weeks more out of boredom than actual required workload), thought of moving to a better apartment, doing some studies at Carleton to further my MPA. Then my father died. I spent a lot of time helping my mother, did a bit of travelling, and work was going great. But on the personal front, fast forward about two years and I realized I had no freaking clue who I was or what I wanted anymore.
Based on that drift, I made a giant decision at age 29, the start of PolyWogg 3.0. I decided to take five years off from dating (“decided” is a relative term, no one was knocking my door down to change my decision!). For reference, it’s kind of a similar approach that counsellors advise when people are going through rehab — if you’re not already in a relationship, don’t start one until you’ve been clean for a year. Otherwise, you’re anchoring the “old you”, not anchoring the “new you” that you’ll be. Five years in which I stripped my psyche bare. Ask friends Aliza and Sebastien — they were my default psychotherapy advisors during the time, with many long long long (did I mention long?) conversations where I would be focused heavily on some aspect of my personality or someone else’s. So much so that when it was someone else’s, say a female friend, people thought I wanted to date them. Except I didn’t. What I was doing was saying, “Hey, there’s a great person, what makes them emotionally, intellectually attractive?” and then trying to figure out what I liked about them that I would perhaps one day want to see in someone else. I didn’t have the vocabulary or distance to explain it, but it was never about those other people. It was about what “qualities” they had that I liked, and then figuring out whether I was liking that quality because I actually liked it, or was just following some old script in my head. I probably could have done the same work, or maybe even better, in about a year of working with a competent therapist, but I wasn’t ready or able to do that. So I did it myself. A brutal process, something Aliza (I think?) once described as resembling more self-mutilation than self-reflection.
Four years went by. Lots of good work that I’m proud that I did. Work that I needed to do to become the “new” me. The “me” that actually knew what he was doing, what he wanted, where he was going. Without delving too deep into the phrase, a “me” that I actually really liked. So in my fifth year, I dipped my toe back into the dating waters. At the time, it seemed like an unmitigated disaster. I didn’t really know how to “date”. I was still an extreme introvert, even more so after a couple of serious relationships under my belt and five years of introspection. I still don’t do well at casual friendships. The year was like a freaking pinball machine. Or a roller-coaster, take your pick of metaphors. Looking back, I know most of it was “no harm, no foul”, and it ended relatively well with the first “healthy adult relationship” of my life (age 32!), but the cost was high — an ill-conceived relationship ended a close friendship of 7 years.
That version of me that made the decision in June 2002 is still somewhat intact. The core of who I am hasn’t changed from that five years of work. I still have insights into my psyche. I can usually tell what’s going on inside my head, what my squirrels are doing from time to time and how to avoid them in advance or let them run their course if released. The last thirteen years with Andrea has also forced me to grow, as every good relationship should. They say patience is a virtue, but no one has ever said patience was my virtue. Yet I have had to learn patience too. Most friends know that I was ready to get married much earlier than Andrea, a reflection in part of her being eight years younger than me, and both more prudent and cautious when it comes to matters of the heart. Six years ago, we married in a style that doesn’t match anyone’s but our own, and I loved the uniqueness of a wedding in a theatre and a reception on a boat.
And we were incredibly blessed to have a “honeymoon baby”. We got pregnant right away. At 26 weeks, we had a partial rupture of the membrane — a fancy way to say her water broke, but not completely. Ten weeks of bed rest, and she was ready to deliver. Complications, difficulties, tears, smiles, a roller coaster of experience both before and after the birth (I’ll post on this too during the year). Five years later I have a beautiful little boy, whip-smart, loves to read. And write. He fills my bucket every day.
So it sounds like I have it all figured out, right? A job I love. The woman I love. A son I love. House, car, cable. Decent smartphone. Heck, I even have my computer mostly organized the way I want it.
But I don’t have it figured out. Some key pieces, sure, but I’ve been drifting of late. Maybe it’s the realization that I’m officially an orphan, with the estate stuff for my mom all wrapped up, and as I said in the eulogy for her two years ago, we’re the oldest generation now. I felt it at Christmas this year more than the last two, but honestly, I’ve been in drift mode for almost 3 years now. I know how I feel at my core, but sometimes the manifestations of my core seem like the impossible journey. I’m not me. I’m some pale imitation of me, some impostor who has been inhabiting my skin, coasting along in cruise mode, no drive, no engine, no growth.
A local therapist helped me deal with the grief last year, but it wasn’t enough. I need to become something else, something better. I need to become PolyWogg 4.0.
So, with that goal in mind:
2015 is the year I commit to the quest.
I’m not starting from scratch, obviously. The 1700 words above to get to this point are just a sample of the core. I’m also not going into self-reflection mode for 5 years. I did it in just over six weeks, ever since I saw the phrase “Commit to the Quest” in a backpacking magazine (no, I’m not going off to find myself either).
I’m not without inspiration swirling around. Here are some examples:
Andrea and Jacob inspire me every day, between Andrea’s roles as co-breadwinner, mother, wife, student, food consultant, all-around star, and someone who puts up with me (which alone qualifies for sainthood) and Jacob’s embracing of all the things that make him my awesome possum;
Dan, who rode his bike all over the province this summer for charity before rappelling down Toronto City Hall;
Katherine, who underwent a huge career change 3 years ago to successfully run for City Council;
Stephan, who is pursuing his dream of building an astronomy park in the Pontiac region, and who infected me with the astronomy bug;
Kristine, who on the days when I feel no connection to the writing universe, continues to chug along;
Jennifer, Kerridwen, Corinne, Liam and Nicole who have all decided to make giant changes in their lives in recent years to get something they wanted more, even though it meant leaving Ottawa to pursue their dreams;
Melissa who posts amazing images of her makeup art;
Sebastien and Alexandre (and Liam and Andrea too) who have a 1000 reasons not to complete their graduate degrees and do it anyway;
Pam who has long since passed her teen years but still found whimsy (commitment?) enough for a full-back tattoo (and gave me the idea for the vaguebooking countdown);
Tara who opened her heart and her mind to her friends on FB with the 100-day gratitude challenge; and,
Linda who runs her Epicure business like she tries to live her life, with love and passion.
I could list dozens more, but I see what these people are doing and I’m inspired by it. Some of it will show up in my commitments, and I’ll do a shout-out when it does. Yes, commitments is plural. And so far, I’ve prattled on for 2000 words and all you’ve got so far is a general commitment to be a “new me”.
You want to see the commitment?
You want to see what has been scaring me?
Do you want to see me go all-in to justify you reading this stupid blog?
Okay, here it is.
I commit to being a writer.
I know what you’re thinking, “Umm, that’s it?”. No that’s not it. That’s the commitment. The heading. Not to “become” or “be” a writer in the future but to being one now.
Writers differ in many things, but they all have one thing in common. Writers write.
And I haven’t been consistently doing that. I got a good jump on my HR guide (an old inspiration from Vivian) in my November “creativity challenge”, and I’m pretty glad about that. But that’s a drop in the bucket. I got my website up and running the way I want it to too this past year, but it’s not enough.
To be a writer isn’t simply about dabbling. It’s a commitment to produce.
This blog (PolyWogg) has 55K words in it from previous posts and pages. My other site, ThePolyBlog, has 148K words. Let’s call it 200K, spread out over about 10 years of time although about 4 years of sporadic effort. 50K per year. Cute.
Between January 1st, 2015 and December 31st, I’m going to write 500,000 words. A half-million words worth of commitment. Including finishing my HR guide by the end of March. Ten times my previous average.
Yep, that number scares the crap out of me. But if writers write, I have to commit to the quest or accept the old me. Not happening.
2015 is not only the year I commit to the quest.
2015 is not only the year I become the fourth incarnation of PolyWogg.
2015 is the year I become prolific.
Now you know what vague book commitment #2 was all about — Two important but contextless numbers (4.0 and 500,000).
Stay tuned, and I’ll explain the rest. Those ones won’t take 2500 words though, I promise.
Growing up, we weren’t big on “saying grace”. It was something we did for holidays, but not any other time. And, when it was the holidays, it was somewhat perfunctory. Christian faith, and particularly Catholicism, has its rituals and grace is one of them. Unfortunately, like many of the rituals, they are not very inclusive of other religions. Sometimes the rituals are so formal, they even feel exclusionary to the members of that faith who chafe with rigour or discipline or rote regurgitation of prayers.
Yet, I feel like I’m missing out on something. Not in the sense of worshiping a deity in some formal manner, but in not pausing before meals just to reflect for a moment. Andrea, Jacob and I have already instituted a “daily gratitude” ritual of sorts of writing down our favourite part of the day, putting it on a small index card, and throwing it in a box that we’ll open at the start of the new year and relive some favourite moments of the past year. And as much as I’m enjoying that ritual, I’m still looking for a daily, umm, prayer of thanks, for lack of a better phrase.
I don’t want it to be denominational or exclusionary — I would want it to be as open as possible, something pretty much anyone of any faith could hear and not be offended by, yet still have some meaning behind it. Generally, the non-denominational prayers that are out there talk about varying elements:
emphasizing the value of nature;
recognizing the human effort in growing, gathering, transporting and preparing food;
reflecting on the importance / blessing of bringing family and friends together for a meal;
noting those less fortunate; and,
being grateful for the things that one has in their life.
I like the last three, not sure about the first two. I don’t discount them, I just don’t know that they resonate very strongly with me, at least not in the short term. At best, I am drawn to the following ideas:
As we sit down to this meal, let us be mindful of our blessings and remember those whose lives are more affected than our own, who may be hungry, sick or cold, so that we may respond to those in need with wisdom and compassion.
As we share this meal, let us be thankful to those who prepared and served the meal, may this meal bring us all strength and health.
As we enjoy each other’s company, let our thoughts go out to absent family and friends that we hope are safe and well.
It’s hardly eloquent, but it captures most of what I want to give thanks for, a daily “opportunity” of sorts to further count my blessings.
