Robert Redford

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Redford

He's just about the best male actor of my life time. His movies have certainly had a profound impact on me. He's amazing as an actor, a director and producer. Something about him always spelt the word integrity.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid made me a life long fan. With Barbara Streisand in the Way We Were he stole my heart. His love stories simply brought such depth to theatre. Out of Africa still lingers.

All the President's Men and Brubacher raised my political awareness and touched my conscience. Movies like a Bridge Too Far and Havanna gave me insight into history. Always he was true. The psychology of Ordinary People and Indecent Proposal was unsurpassed while the Horse Whisperer simply touched the soul.

I've just watched Spy Games. I loved it when I first saw it at the theatre and yet I've enjoyed it even better the second time through. I'm not one to watch movies over and over again. I like them to age. Turner Classic Theatre is my cup of tea. But Robert Redford's movies I can watch again and again because there's so much nouance of expression and depth of character as well an ageless joie d' vivre.

I was amazed to learn he was a baseball star. How very typically American can one get. Then to learn he lost a scholarship through drinking only to rise above that past to his later fame and fortune. I like the true love story of his life that clearly has given him the depth of character that he forever portrays.

Just as I've loved his acting I've loved his directing, the latest being Lions for Lambs and so enjoyed his production, the Motorcycle Diaries.

I like what I've heard of Sundance, too. Those who I've met who have known and worked with Mr. Redford all speak of him as a gentleman. His genius is quiet and American in the best of the sense of that word. I'm just simply thankful for his work.

The Appearances

Owen Barfield wrote a book called, "Saving the Appearances." It addressed the construction of reality as as an individual and collective process. Even now we're in the throes of reassessing 'reality' in the continuing scientific revolution of the 21^st century. What Owen Barfield said is that a child perceives an amorphous collection of stimuli and eventually organizes that information based on the guidance of his or her parents and culture. Piaget, the French genius, studing the operational process of children's learned described the changing reality perception eventually moving from the concrete to abstract thinking.

Later in the studies of physics Heisenberg and others showed that reality was more abstract indeed than concrete with a major blurring between the observer and the observed. Einstein's relativity theory addressed specifically the influence of perception on reality describing the perception of time as perceived by a passenger on a train versus the man on the platform. The differences in perception lead to a realization of the true uniqueness of each individual and the old eastern adage of reality being an elephant misperceived by a collection of blindfolded men stood around the elephant and asked to describe what they experience from that perspective.

Augustine the Saint spoke to the idea of time as being something too often assumed. And finally thrugh the eyes of psychiatry is altered specifically along the lines of what Martin Buber would call the I and it or I and thou lines. If I am afraid I experience reality one way, if I am unafraid I experience it differently. Daniel Gardner addresses the biology of the experience extremely well in his brilliant book, Science of Fear.

A psychiatric classic was "Denial of Death.", addressing the fear of dying and the ways in which individually and collectively we live the illusion of immortality. The greatest "reality" is the very concept of life and death. This is long likened to the dream and awake cycle of the individual. Yet individually we live as if "immortal" in more ways than one and culturally we collectively deny death and even exist collectively as if we are immortal.

I have awoken today and like Descartes I am accepting that I exist because I think and as Yahweh said to Moses, I am. Yet the mystery of the other, especially beyond today is indeed a 'construct'. The collective 'psychosis" is that the 'past" is somehow agreed on despite the increasing evidence of the limits of individual memory and the tendency of history to redefine the 'past' for it's own purposes. Ask any individual details about the day before today and there will soon be discrepancies even in those who claim 'photographic memories'. The 'corruption' of the computer programs, viruses and such, reflect the true understanding of science today as to the human brain, the computer being an imitation of the cognitive processes of brain with the hope of one day constructing an even better computer from organic materials. Is there not something more 'factual' about death, despite our denial than there is about life which in it's constant apparent changes is illusive as the butterfly of song?

As for tomorrow, it's always an illusion. Everyone knows of individuals who died 'instantly', 'spontaneously' or 'unexpectedly'. But as has already been noted "death" is usually "unexpected' though it may well be one of the most expected events of existence.

So waking I have a collection of memories which define myself to me as well as a collection of relationships with the 'other' or 'thou' which define my relationship with 'reality'. Indeed the very language suggest that I,myself, this construct of self, may be more 'unreal' than 'reality' the "Other" of Martin Buber.

Words such as "facts" take on a different meaning then to the 'scientist'than the 'lay person'. Facts is a historic 'term' which the old continue to use through habit and lack of awareness of the profound shift in reality from the static to the dynamic. Indeed when asked the 'facts' I recently was shocked by the realization that the individual asking such a question was historic. It's like those media types who say 'tell me what the meaning of string theory is in one sentence'. Clearly they don't grasp that one scientist speaking to another might be able to summarize it but that the limits of knowledge are experiential and internal combustion or gravity is not a 'sound bite' .

Indeed there are those who believe that 'reality' is the world of the dream and death, that this 'experience' so brief and inconsequential is minuscule relative to the 'potential' of true reality. Indeed if I lived as if today was my only day I might well not go to work today. The sense of true time is limited by the construct of 'one day' and 'one day at a time'.

If God is to me the only true 'fact' then 'facts' is a very difficult proposition which I have to assume that someone asking such a question wants indeed a child's answer to the question or one historically bound by 19^th century scientific principles.

Daily I address the concept of 'reality' and 'perception' in my office where I treat drug addiction which alters the brains capacity to experience anything marginally considered 'factual' but more importantly I am forever in relationships dealing with the perceptual sense of time that individuals bring to any equation as well as their sense of life and death, spoken or unspoken. If one asks me for 'facts' I am aware that they by the nature of that question are quite possibly in terror for their life denying death and desperately clinging to the 'reality ' of their particular construct, individually and culturally.

Life is dynamic. This too shall pass. "I am the bubble, make me the sea" the mystic chants alone on a hill.

And today I have hope and hope alters reality, profoundly.

The Closer

http://www.tnt.tv/series/closer/

I just watched episodes of The Closer from First Season and loved them. I'd watched several episodes over the last few years as a result of surfing on regular tv but was fortunate to get the First Season on sale because of a missing disc. Great cop drama. Terrific plots with a marvellous soap opera of characters who I really warmed to.

Deputy Police Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson and her Major Crimes Division. Kyra Sedgwick is the amazing star. So complex and captivating.

At first I thought of Clint Eastwood, then Mel Gibson, then Sandra Bullock and finally Meryl Streep and Angelina Jolie. But genetically I'd have to say Bruce Willis is in there somewhere as well. Well done, Kyra Sedgwick. Thanks for the entertainment!

Suburban Mayhem

This movie is genius. http://www.suburbanmayhem.com/main.html

The movie should be required viewing for all judges and juries. It's would make an ideal case study for any psychologists or psychiatrists with the question, "and what would you do differently".

It's an Australian production that could never have been made in America because quite frankly it could well be a metaphor for America. Winnipeg's Guess Who wrote the song banned throughout the US, America Woman. It was just this kind of woman the song was about. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkqfpkTTy2w&NR=1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZVzH5yBFQA

Katrina is a clinically accurate portrait of the true female psychopath. Her sociopathic brother ends up in jail because the 'system' can deal with men but is wholly incapable of dealing with the new age female version of an ancient and most endearing mask of the devil. The movie shows just why the 'system' fails when it comes to women but it in no way enlightens us as to how things could be handled differently. With a docu drama twist, it is a truly violent action flick that turns into a witchy horror film. Like watching a snake dance I couldn't keep track of all the moves and didn't see the strikes coming when they did. That's the genius of writer and director. The acting is all superb.

The women and men in the movie are unable to deal with Katrina's sexual manipulations. A regular blue collar Cleopatra she demonstrates well how women can use sex and proxy violence for social terrorism. The movie captures the Eva Braun Syndrome to a tee. Absolutely a must see.

Writer: Alice Bell (only a woman could have the balls to write this!)

Director: Paul Goldman

Katrina: Actress Emily Barclay

Monty, 90 years old

"I want you to meet Monty," she told me. "He's been my mentor for as long as I can remember. He's in town visiting from Quadra Island."

My friend is an Aboriginal minister with the Anglican church. She didn't know I knew Monty. I'd met him years before talking about planes. He was a radioman and gunner in WWII. 19 flights over Germany, I think he told me. I told him my Dad had been in the Lancaster and he said he'd flown in the Halifax.

He'd been coming to the Dug Out AA meeting long before I had. I'd been going nearly a decade. We shared the deaths of the kind hearts like Chris and Margaret. It's a quiet place where I've come to know Lyle and Al, Christy, Jan, Ed, Sally, Herb, Ron,Nancy, Archie and so many more. Monty was always a voice of inspiration and wise with laughter.

We shared our plans by text messaging. Arriving in from a week of sailing, I needed to go to church and told her I was going to Christ Church, then to the Dug Out and then to lunch. But today I was running late and decided to stop at St. James' Anglican Church. She'd told me she had to attend her vestry meeting at another church and we'd left it that. I'd meet her and Monty for lunch the following week.

Meanwhile my Roman Catholic friend, Laura, hadn't been to an Anglo-catholic High Mass service and getting to Christ Church across Vancouver during the Olympics might have made us even that much later.
So with attended St. James.

Father Mark Greenaway-Robbins shared in his sermon that "People look at me odd when I'm wearing my collar and when I mentioned this to my other priest associates they shared that they had the same experience. It wasn't that way in my previous parish where Christianity and priests were the norm. Here though Christians are in the minority and I think Christianity does best when it is…as a minority I have to reflect on what it is to be a Christian and consider seriously what Christ means to me….I even have to not take it for granted when I talk to other Christians that they will understand what I mean when I say the words sacrifice and grace.…When we're on top of the world it's easy not to think about Grace….but it's all Grace….all God's grace." And though I'm sure he said it better and my paraphrase is wholly unworthy of his much more profound message, that's what I came away with. And I liked it. Lent is that time of reflection.

And I was thinking about Grace after I left the service. How God, the unknown, the other, the mystery is the first principle and I am at best the second.

And there was Vivian, Monty and Vivian's dog Puta (I know that's not how it's spelt but he loves me regardless). They'd gone to Christ Church and heard Alistair's sermon. I explained how we were late and attended St. James. Since I've moved to North Vancouver St. James has by proximity become my default church too.

We entered the Dug Out together and were later joined by Al who when asked shared that it was his 29^th year of sobriety, 'today…this day…though I'm taking my cake on the Friday." Monty then shared that it was his 90^th birthday. He'd first got sober in the 1950's but didn't stay sober until a decade or so later. The 90 was his 'belly button' birthday. Otherwise he'd look even younger than he does.

Monty talked about Agape, that realization that there was something the same in you as in the other. This empathy he said was the realization of God in each other, the essence of spirituality. And he said, "that's what makes you care for each other." He shared that alcohol produced an artificial experience but that when you have the real experience you don't want to go back to the artificial. He told me later that Hell, theologically, "just means isolation".

I never knew Monty was an Anglican minister. "after the war and naziism all I thought about was God. When I met my wife I told her that and she said that was okay. We had 4 children and I'm very proud of them. We've loved each other a long time even if there's been times here and there when we haven't particularly liked each other. Loving some one doesn't mean I approve of their behavior. I certainly love my sons but there have been times when I haven't approved of their behavior."

Later we all had lunch together and Monty told me that he studied pastoral counseling and that the United Church minister, Taylor at UBC had been his mentor. "He taught me more about the Eucharist and Mass than the anglican's did. He'd been to India and come back to Canada and explained to me that we come to church to join in congregation and be filled with God so we can go out into the world and give it all away so we can come back again and get renourished. He told me too that when he was in India he'd been overwhelmed by how large the task was, so many hungry people then, and he realized that wasn't his job that was God's job. His job was just the small part of the whole that was facing him.... God's love is giving and as I've got older I've learned to see Jesus as my ideal man. I had lots of other ideal men when I was younger but now I really know Jesus as my ideal. It's all about sacrifice. That what love is." said Monty.

The blueberry pie was delicious. We were looking over the train yard at Coal Harbour. Canada had won the Olympic Men's Hockey Gold and there was shouting and horn honking in the streets.

He told me, "I know a lot of people down here because when I worked at the Central City Mission. It was pretty much just a shelter when I came there, but I set about turning it into a rehabilitation facility. It's what I believed in."

"And the way you don't get burnt out is that you look for the gift every individual you help brings you. Each person is individual and unique and each has something special that only they can share and they'll give that to you when you help them. That's God working in people."

Outside the honking and cheering were intense. Monty took out his hearing aids then, "You know there are advantages to getting older. " Now there was Grace.

All around us as we walked to the cars there was cheering. The cherry blossoms were in bloom. We hugged in parting. Four friends on a special day. Monty is 90 years old. "You know you're about the same age as my son," he said in parting. "My Dad is 91," I told him. "You're still pretty young."

"Hooray for Canada! Hooray!" a passer by called from his car, waving the red and white maple leaf flag.

Olympics Canada

There's a lot of shouting and horn honking in the streets today. Canada just won the men's hockey gold. That's a lot of Olympic Gold Medals for Canada. Whistler, Blackhomb and Vancouver are beautiful. British Columbia is beautiful and Canada is beautiful, too. It's good people have had an opportunity to experience this.
People here are talking about patriotism and national pride in a way they weren't a couple of weeks ago. There's a new found appreciation for excellence as well. It's a real inspiration for young people. "To dream the impossible dream!" A lot of dreams will have begun and been fueled here these last two weeks. That's good. That's really good.

Ganges Harbour Cruising

The plan was to sail from Vancouver to Victoria. I set out to do that at Christmas, too. Then I stopped in Ganges Harbour, Salt Spring Island and used the excuse that my autopilot had fried and I had a leak in my engine salt water cooling system. After that I just cruised Ganges Harbour in my dinghy.

I didn't leave yesterday and the very pleasant wharfinger at Salt Spring Marina taking payment for another night said kindly, "I noticed you were still here." Sleeping in on a boat with the gentle rocking and the cats bum in one's face just goes against the "early start" continuing on to Victoria would have required. It wasn't until 2 pm yesterday that Laura and I had 'breakfast" at MOBY's. She had a healthy 'approved' chicken salad while I had more of MOBY's fries with a side of halibut.

I did a lot of lying around yesterday and completed reading Wilbur Smith's, A Leopard Hunts at Night. I really want to sail to Africa now. Africa is obviously the tourist destination of the 21^st century when the tribes aren't eating each other. Malaysia seems equally exciting but the pirates there are forever kidnapping people and now that my mother's dead ,I'd not think anyone would pay to get me back if I went missing.

There are no pirates or kidnappers on Salt Spring Island unfortunately. Being held hostage here would be next best thing to visiting as a tourist.

I got the dinghy in the water yesterday which was a good thing because I could feel that overwhelming sense of accomplishment that allowed me to go back to lying about eating pastry and drinking santa cruz ginger ale while shooing the cat off my face. She seems to think if I'm reading my face isn't being used so would make a great place for her to lie on.

This morning I wanted to run about in the dinghy. It was too late to cruise on to Victoria and because it was raining I just didn't feel like trolling a fishing line over to Bedwell Harbour. I've caught salmon many times between Salt Spring and the Pender Islands and rainy weather is the best fishing weather. That said, TreeHouse Café has great bennies.

Laura was excited by the idea of a dinghy ride. "I can wear my new Pioneer cruising wet gear. I've not worn it yet" She said. So we boarded the dinghy and with the power of the mighty Yamaha 4 hp cruised Ganges Harbour. Cruising Ganges Harbour is exciting and fulfilling without any risk of tsunamis, hurricanes or pirates.

The Treehouse Café has great eggs benedicts. They're brought to the table and we don't have to do dishes after the meal. Laura and I checked out our Facebooks while having coffee. We even talked some before the meal arrived. Then we chowed down in silent revelry. The bennies are really good.

After we checked out the Pegasus Gallery. What a terrific 'space'. Historical and Contemporary Art and Northwest Coastal Native Art. We loved it. There was a piece by the native sculptur whose work is highlighted at the Vancouver Airport. It only sold for $10,000. Cheap at the price. Almost Rodin but I confess, I turned to Laura and said, "I could get a Harley Davidson Electroglyde for that with a trade in of my own Harley". "But your Harley wouldn't be worth two or three times that in 5 years, would it?" said the curator. And yes, he was right but being a barbarian that's how my mind worked until he then told me about 'leasing' art and Canadian Tax write offs. Harley hasn't anything like that so he certainly had pigued my interest enough to say. "I'll be sure to discuss that with my accountant, Anil Aukluck."

The fact is that I bought a number of fine pieces of Canadian art which were great investments but I bought them back when the government wasn't squeezing the art community and had made it much more attractive to invest in Canadian culture. Today they only support the banks, giving us credit for buying RRSP's. It doesn't really matter, my investments to date have gone to divorce, another government supported industry.

Volume II Bookstore was next door to the Pegasus Gallery facing onto the government dock. I used to dock there and remember the dogs happy flights up to land from there. They peed on the rocks. They peed on the plants. They just loved peeing on non moving land after having only the moving water washed foredeck to pee on at sea. Having a stable poop after their sea going experiences was sheer dog heaven on Salt Spring. Then they'd wait patiently outside the bookstore while I browsed. Laura and I loved the bookstore and the owner. Naturally we walked out with a half dozen books between us.

We walked across town to the Salt Spring Island Coffee Shop. They have free internet connection here and we are still having chai latte's. The coffee shops on the island are all friendly, glad to have you hang out , sort of places, like Blenz' and Waves in the city, but more so. Laura's sister lives on Mayne Island, "When I visit there, if she's not at home, I just go over to the bakery because there's a tea shop there and that's where she's usually hanging out."

Don't know where the teen agers go. There aren't any malls and the island. I wonder if they stay home and do their homework or possibly find some other place to have pimples and hormones.

The pubs used to be the main island venue 20 years ago when I began cruising the West Coast in GIRI. I like the coffeeshops a whole lot more. I was a bar tender in London, England and my recollection of the neighbourhood pub was at it's best like these coffeeshops are all the time. At their worst, the pubs were always places with loud drunks and arguments. "Barfight" is an actual word given it's commonality. Hard to imagine a coffeehouse brawl, especially here at the Salt Spring Island Coffee Co.

Now we'll probably head back to the dinghy, buying some more diet coke and kitty litter on the way, the main reason for this expedition, then cruise Ganges Harbour some more before getting back to heavy reading and cat shooing. We'll probably work a shower into the day too having collected a veritable hoard of loonies for the metered water.

Tomorrow, we'll probably head back to Vancouver. I may even put up the sails after we leave Active Passage. It is a sailboat. Thankfully the dinghy doesn't have sails. No guilt there. It has oars though. I feel twinges of guilt about not using the oars. It would be healthier if I rowed. But you can't floss rowing and you could using the Yamaha 4 hp engine. That's something to think about.

I just read in the wash room graffiti, "Jesus died for our sins, so if you don't sin his death would be for nothing." Some days that logic has a certain kind of appeal. At least I own floss. Cruising Ganges Harbour might not be the same as the Vancouver Victoria round trip but it sure has a lazy laid back relaxing kind of appeal. This resting on one's laurels isn't such a bad thing. Like Oscar Wilde, "I can resist anything but temptation." Right now I'm plotting how I'll get back to the dinghy avoiding Harlan's Chocolates which is just around the corner. Someone ate the whole box last night. I think it was the cat.