14/31

Links to 13/31 &
the 31 Things 
Launch Post

These are my two favourite neckties. Like all vibrant things, they tell stories. 

I purchased the Stewart clan tartan in Halifax, Nova Scotia at The Citadel, an important Canadian historical site. I bought the other tie in one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited: Taormina, Italy. 

But the real story behind these ties is their connection to my son, who's celebrating his birthday today. 

I traveled to both the aforementioned locations with my son, the first one a family vacation and then to Italy as a supervisor on his high school travel excursion. In Halifax I bought two types of Stewart tartan and he chose this one. In Italy, I bought two hand-made similar-looking ties, ones I reasoned would never go out of style, and let him choose first. 

One might say these pairs of ties are twins: different, yet the same. Whenever I wear either of these ties, I think of him, of us, and like the day he was born I wonder, how did I get so lucky? 

They say that we fickle men change ideas like neckties, but my hope for all fathers and sons is that the idea, the story of us, endures. 

13/31

Links to 12/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

This is my newest flat cap. (Insert giddy smile here.)

Dear friends, do some research on why men wear caps. Yes, there's some controversy (a certain red cap comes to mind, insert barf emoji here). But head-gear is not necessarily a signifier for intimidation or rebellion or tribalism.  

I grew up on the Canadian prairies where baseball caps were the norm, practically prescribed at birth, and although most of the men in my life wore them—my father, my brothers, my uncles, some of my friends—I knew they didn't feel right for me, with one exception: a gentle cap-wearing man I much admired. More on this below....

In the meantime, I became an educator and I swear that the most contentious and lengthy topic at my very first staff meeting was about enforcing the hat rule. It's disrespectful! It's uncivilized! It's profane! Sigh. Suddenly I wanted to start wearing a cap. 

But nope. Instead I enforced the stupid rule and sometimes it undermined forming connections with the teen boys I was attempting to convince that Hamlet was more tortured intellectual than massive whinger. (Spoiler: he was both.) Coincidentally, this same topic was discussed at one of my last staff meetings, THIRTY-SOME YEARS LATER. After about a decade in education exclusively working with teachers, I had returned to the classroom and was shocked that this hat ideology nonsense was still a raging debate. Puh-leeze. 

By then, I was wearing my own head-gear. Why? I became a Grandpops! I always knew if I ever had the privilege and joy of joining this club, I would wear a flat-cap to signify this most important milestone, to embrace aging minus the grumpy disposition, and most importantly, to emulate my own gentle grandfather. Side note: I must admit I was so removed from the hat culture loop then that I hilariously misnamed my grandfather's flat cap, lol.

Thank goodness hat ideology has evolved (more of this in schools please) because dear friends, my flat-cap is all sorts of fit mental health vibes: gratitude for my favourite five, pride in my identity, a daily mental health boost, and a most meaningful vibrant thing. 

12/31

Links to 11/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

Do you have an LED neck light? If not, my condolences. You see, I always wanted to be the bionic man, and now I am!  

And you can too! 

If your eyesight is declining and you can't find anyone to hold the damn flashlight, or you're an artist, a dentist, a jeweler, a plumber, a human with eyes, and especially if you're an avid reader, this vibrant thing is a terrific aide (especially for reading on the treadmill), a part-time assistant, and kind of a low-key superpower. I say get one now and boost your vitamin see. 

Sorry. 

P.S. I'm learning from General Butler that war is indeed a racket, a scheme, a swindle, an extortion.... But my neck light—that's legit! 

11/31

Links to 10/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

Christmas lights? Nope. 

They irk me. 😡

Yes, it's irrational, yes it's unfounded, yes it's ironic, yes I'm not proud of it, and yes, you wouldn't think deep breathing is necessary but yes, it is. 

Also this: I know I'm not alone in being riled by these truly vibrant things—things that should evoke celebration, joy, peace, contentment, but instead, they make my blood pressure spike. 

My reasoning? Let's be honest: they can be a cumbersome chore. I once read a news report about a man who attempted to untangle his Christmas lights and after hours of strained patience, he finally got his hand gun and blasted them...then his neighbours reported him. Yes, too far dude, but isn't there a tiny part of you...?

The main reason though? THEY JUST CAME DOWN YESTERDAY. Yesterday. 

Our relentless snowfall, our mini ice-age finally melted (like, last week), and it took a few days to get around to removing them rage-yanking the Christmas lights off the tree in the front yard. Side note: imagine a Maypole dance scene written by Stephen King—that would be me circling our ten foot tree as I unravel a string of Christmas lights (oh jingle bells) seething all the way, deep breathing all the way + 18 swear words, lol. Sigh.   

Here's the kicker: my wife absolutely adooooooooorrrrrrrrrrres Christmas lights. I'm happy they make her happy, but this also means my dark, destructive thoughts (irrationally longing to be vented and affirmed) must remain inside, inconspicuous, and in-check, or risk becoming infamous. 

Here's my point, dear friends: in marriage and partnership things like clutter, or dishes, or laundry, or thermostats, or tchotchkes, and yes decorations too...well, let's just concede that one person's vibrant thing might be more torment than blessing. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

10/31

Links to 9/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

If you also live in North American, a happy Mother's Day. 

My mother died more than a decade ago. I've rarely written about her, but when I do it's a curated approach. 

Since today is dedicated to mothers, it occurred to me to write about her, but what vibrant thing, what meaningful object would best represent my mother? What do I even possess that belonged to my mother? 

My mother was a mystery to me. I'm not sure if I ever really knew her? Oh sure, I can describe her well, but her identity? She remains elusive. 

My aim here is curiosity, not disrespect; I have emptied myself of past bitterness. Many (most?) parent-child relationships are complicated, sometimes forever uneasy. Parents often do not share their inner lives with their children, at least not deliberately. Who am I to judge? 

My wife and I were in a greenhouse this weekend and she asked, "what's this beautiful flower?" I explained they were dahlias, known for their vibrant colours, impressive symmetry, and lengthy summer blooming. I added that although they are not perennials (in our climate), the bulbs can be stored inside in the winter, then replanted to regrow each Spring. But then something occurred to me...why did she ask me? How did I know this? 

Because my Mom taught me. Her favourite thing was the outdoors: the garden, the trees, the veggies, the flowers, the bees... is this why the trees and grains and flowers fascinate me endlessly? We may have never developed a deeper language between us, but we could speak flowers. That's something.

9/31

Links to 8/31 &
The 31 Things Launch Post

Art-making materials are the most vibrant things.

Artists sometimes refer to the muse—an apt way to express the relationship and that alchemy that occurs when the materials meet the maker. It's a mysterious bond both abstract yet tangible. 

You have a favourite psychologist, right? Mine is Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (MEE-hy CHEEK-sent-mee-HAH-yee), who researched creativity (and happiness) for decades; he coined and studied the sports and arts concept flow. 

During the flow state—a personally defined goldilocks zone between what we find too easy and too hard—time (and trouble) disappear as we become absorbed in a fulfilling task. In connection with our goals, whatever activity prompts and sustains this zone for us—marathoning or driving race-cars or cake-decorating or sewing or performing on stage or refinishing furniture and so on—Csikszentmihalyi declared that flow "transforms a random walk into a chase."  

I find that phrase "random walk" compelling. That's it! For me, art-making is a flow experience, a rapt random walk. 

A fitting metaphor, I have learned to value the walk—the process—as much as or more than that elusive product we artists chase. Regardless of my original plans (my goals), the random walk is about getting absorbed, even lost in that flow zone, creating something surprising, unintended, serendipitous... the fluke I sought all along. As in all valuable relationships, this requires trust. Like a soapstone sculptor trusting something hidden within the stone itself (the seal? the turtle? the fox?), the tools, the muse—they too will provide something vibrant, something more than at first imagined, something connected to happiness.  

Dear friends, what inspires you to find flow? 

8/31

Links to 7/31 &
the 31 Things
Launch Post

 Do you know what these are? For those in the know (people over 40?), let's call them the before-the-internet-Internet. Like, imagine if Wikipedia weighed at least 80 pounds. 

Yes, several years ago I acquired a set of encyclopedias from the year I was born! Yes, they're old-ish and outdated-ish but these vibrant things are a portal to my childhood curiosity. 

Childhood me hopscotched through them repeatedly. I especially remember the maps with their plastic overlays and various gripping entries including cartooning and human reproduction, lol. 

I also pondered the people/polymaths who contributed such wide-ranging information...how did one obtain a (dream) job researching random things? Is this why I changed my undergrad minors every year? Is this why I completed a Master's Degree in Interdisciplinary Studies? Hmm, coincidence? 

Considering encyclopedias were once my first personal library and a legitimate authority for credible knowledge, I asked AI a somewhat personal question: are you founded on old encyclopedias? 

The response? NO. "AI is not primarily based on old encyclopedias. While they form a tiny, curated fraction of the data used for training...encyclopedia content is minimal: while some digitized older encyclopedias might be included in the, say, (10^{12}) parameters of a massive training corpus...[more like] the relationship is reversing, with traditional publishers like Britannica transforming their curated, old-school knowledge into AI-powered tools...." 

Well well well. This world-choice, eh? Minimal vs massive? Hmm. Is it just me, or do you also sense some "pissing-match" type tension here?  

Dear friends, when AI becomes fully sentient, I suspect we may need to fight back using "the old ways" and thus my old-ass encyclopedias might just help us save the world. 🤔

7/31

Links to 6/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

I tend to save cards I love. Once, my wife gifted me a card with a couple holding hands...one is labeled Artsy and one Fartsy; I'll let you determine which of us deserves either moniker. 

But it's not just the card in this example: c'mon, it's the Swedish Chef! 

Like many Gen Xers who raised themselves, I grew up on TV The Muppets, also fish sticks and tuna and Miracle Whip and Cheez Whiz and the Bionic Man and leaded gas, etc., so these characters are MUCH MORE than puppets to me...they're my people? My clan? My Proustian mind-trip support-group? 

The questions marks are intended to help me sound a tad less pathetic and/or psychologically suspect. But let's be honest folks: we're all kind of pathetic in this regard, aren't we? We all irrationally stan some musician or sports-hero or scientist or pandas or Moira from Schitt's Creek, yet in my case I also reserve ample room for Animal, Kermit, Beaker, Miss Piggy... and at the pinnacle of my crush is the one and only Swedish Chef. Bork. Bork. Bork.  

Why? Let's be honest: I could rely on them... for escape and humour and companionship and specifically the Swedish Chef for his erratic physical comedy and mild violence aka the nervy mayhem craved by a powerless, lonely kid. That's healthy, right? Don't answer that because I've already introduced him to my grandkids. Insert (smirking) sheepish face here.

Who says that pixel on screens are not vibrant things too? Dear friends, who has this elevated status among your pixel friends?

6/31

Links to 5/31 &
the 31 Things Launch Post

Well that was a surprise. Sort of.

This week we received some exciting news from our son and his partner: they're engaged! 

Although the timing wasn't anticipated, this was not unexpected news; they've been together for almost four years and have two kids. So, during our FaceTime conversation, I surprised them with a little gift to bless this ongoing union. 

I've been waiting patiently for this engagement forever... so, knowing how much we all love Lego, I've been blending together various mini-figures to configure their bride and groom likenesses. Let's be honest: if you knew them, I think you'd be impressed by the accuracy. And with that in mind, these vibrant things would be a perfect wedding cake topper, wouldn't they? 

5/31

Links to 4/31 &
the 31Things Launch Post

What's brown and uh stick-y? A stick. (Sorry.) 

Side note: YES (bitter sigh), there's still snow where I live. 😡

Sticks...IYAM, they're the OG vibrant things: they might be the prototype for imaginative utility. 

Throughout history, whether its Westeros or a cave or or a Renaissance Fair or a battlefield or a campsite or a playground, haven't we humans felt compelled to pick up a random stick, instinct for kindling, hammer, cane, sword, horsie, dog-toy, wand, broomstick, back-scratcher, ski-pole, sad umbrella. 

Woodn't you agree that a stick is rooted in meaning? (Sorry.)