I am old enough to remember a time that communication was on foot. It was virtually impossible to phone a girl, so you had to go to her house, knock on the back door (the front being too audacious) and inquire if she was at home. No one can ever forget the prying eyes of the grandmother seated beside the stove in the kitchen. Being a bit bookish, my imagination easily pulled me back to 19th century Britain and the physically-gnawing coal fields of Eastwood Nottinghamshire, the birthplace of D.H. Lawrence. (1885-1930) His reality was shaped by the horrific and mind-numbing work in the collieries, the coal mines: “In my father’s generation, with the old wild England behind them, and the lack of education, the man was not beaten down. But in my generation, the boys I went to school with, colliers now, have all been beaten down, what with the din-din-dinning of Board Schools, books, cinemas, clergymen, the whole national and human consciousness hammering on the fact of material prosperity above all things. … The industrial problem arises from the base of forcing all human energy into a competition of mere acquisition.” (1) This could be our contemporary age. We simply have to replace “collier” with wage slave. This then poses the great question: “How does the individual escape from this ennui when he knows everything thanks to social media and the Internet?” Fortunately you are released by simply stating “I do not know.” Now this could be as simple as not knowing where you will be tomorrow, to the more existential questions of life, “Why am I here and what is my purpose?” Then comes that visceral urge for adventure. This entails leaving the confines of safety and embarking on a mission of discovery, in short, your personal adventure — the goal being the discovery of you: that beautiful and unique “you.”
I would like to share my own piece of adventure, my own sense of “chance.” As I have written many times, I grew up in a small village on the west coast of Vancouver Island, Canada. To say that Canada is a large country is a profound understatement. My idea of a big city was a large town, Port Alberni, some three and a half hours away by car. The main metropolis on the island, Victoria, was my equivalent of Paris or London. Ours was a post-war economy: booming and vibrant. Most of my classmates, therefore, quit school in grade ten or eleven and went to work in either the logging or forest industries. From my uninitiated eyes, life was simple and straightforward. You sought employment in one of the aforementioned industries, bought a car, then a house and got married. Life thus produced life: the inquisitive questions related to a much, much wider world were trivialized and ultimately dismissed. “Why go to university for four, six or eight years when you could be making a living now – forget about tomorrow, live for today.” Though to live in the “now” is the important goal of any “initiated person,” (any human being who has questioned their place in the cosmos) you have to get to that point: lucidity is not free, it requires effort and time. I was well on my way to settling into the so-called appetitive life, (2) and accept my lot in life. I was, after all, unique already because I had a high school diploma. I worked in a furniture and stereo store as a salesman. I had the natural skill of conversation and this easily turned itself into successful sales. The owner of the shop offered me 25% of the shares in the business, if I would stay for five years. Wow, what an opportunity – financial security at twenty three. Then life presented me with a confusing dilemma. A car salesman from Port Alberni arrived with a catalogue of the newest and most beautiful cars: true statements in sophistication and elegance. A vehicle equaled a relationship with a girl – life would be on its first rung to the top: into this mix dropped a choice. One of the men in the repair department of the business was Hungarian. He asked me in a rather off-handed way whether I would like to accompany him to Hungry. “Why would anyone name a country after a visceral feeling?” I thought to myself. Before answering, I went home, got out my parents’ Encyclopedia Britannica and looked up this nation: Hungary a central-European state with a long historical pedigree. What a conundrum! Then, my life was nudged in a certain direction. The morning of the day of my decision, I had an argument with my “almost” girlfriend. The gauntlet was thrown down, the die was cast – the challenge was presented. Within two months, I was in Budapest: I have been back to my home town twice in forty years. Jawaharlal Nehru (1889-1964), the first Prime Minister of India, leaves us with a thought: We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.             Â
A closing thought: Yesterday, July 1st, was the commencement of the Battle of the Somme in 1916. (3) Historians believe that this conflict heralded the eventual death of the British Empire in 1947, culminating in the independence of India. This confrontation should be a lesson to all thinking people that violence solves nothing in the long term. This includes the trauma being thrust upon us on a daily basis through our mass media.
A small joke: Language is a curious phenomenon. One day I went to the store and bought four tea eggs for my friend. I arrived at their home and proudly announced, “I have just bought you four tea eggs.” “My gosh!” was the response. “Where will I possibly keep them?” (Hint: say forty tea eggs quickly)
This week, please reflect on your own life adventure.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful
Quote: All human beings are seekers. We all want something more, something better. The secret is to not accept mediocrity: you have but one life in this reality.
Footnotes
1) Nottingham & the Mining Country: D.H. Lawrence, 1929