Things that deserve the stink-eye:

My son gave me a battery-powered chainsaw for my birthday. I LOVE IT. 

There's just one problem: I MUST CHAINSAW EVERYTHING. IMMEDIATELY. 

Whoa: the dopamine hit from this thing?! *chef's kiss*

I am like that annoying semi-retired superhero next door, sawing sawing sawing while wearing my yardwork Grandpops flat-cap and sketchy hole-in the knees superhero pyjamas, saggy everywhere, except for (of course) my biceps. 

Although I am characteristically a gentle man, pshaw, Chris Hemsworth. 

Anyway, if I am unable to find more things to saw, you should know, dear neighbour, that I will begin chainsaw-light-sabering the most evil force of all: spruce bugs. You're welcome.

Let's be honest:

"They tried to bury me, they did not
realize I was a seed." Sinead O'Connor

If you pay attention, flowers whisper.

I suspect most of you tulip gardeners already had your mesmerizing tulip moments earlier this Spring, but I live in northern Canada so this photo is from Sunday. 

This is my first time growing tulips. My friend provided them for my adult English class. Developed by the good people of The Netherlands and distributed globally, they are named, Peace for Ukraine. 

Ecologist Thomas Berry said it so well: "the universe is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects." If only the world operated this way, eh? 

What did this flower whisper to me? Lift up your heart. You are not alone. Have courage. 

Point B

source

When I was a kid, one of my favourite plot points in the original Star Trek was when they used the transporter: "Beam me up, Scotty." 

That sci-fi technology was a seed-starter in my childhood imagination's soil. Nearly 50 years later, I still yearn for the experience of teleporting from one location to another. Don't we all? It would be so damned convenient and save so much precious time. 

But now, at this oldish man life stage, I think about something else: the disassembling and reassembling aspect of the transporter—the weightless notion that in seconds I could become pixels, disappear, and then reappear in a better future without even a nod to that in-between space—a complete escape. 

Older now, I know this in-between space all too well, this liminal space, this threshold between past and future—it is not weightless and it won't be ignored. Unlike Star Trek, life affords few effortless escapes. A guy can get stuck in between.  

Sure, sometimes we might not even attend to this in-between space, might not even notice it, or conversely, consciously court the in-between to help us live in the present, ignoring past troubles and future worries. But let's be honest: we grown humans struggle to live in the present.  

Unlike Star Trek, between life's point A and point B there is lots of waiting, wishing, and wondering. Transitions can be hell. And what's disassembled at A is never quite reassembled so well by the time we reach B. If you've ever had to put down a pet you know what I mean and there are 100 other just-have-to-get-through-it-experiences. 

Although everyday life has little in common with Star Trek's idealistic transporter, dear friends, please hang on: perhaps Point B is out there, somewhere?