Being Wrong

Being Wrong.

There was a silly little "Non Sequitor" cartoon on my calendar this morning that got me to thinkin' about being wrong. It showed a number of people gathered around a gravesite with the coffin bein' lowered into the ground. The inscription on the headstone read: "OK, OK, I was wrong", and the caption said, "So, turns out it really did kill him to admit it". I don't know whether it's intended or not, but that's a pretty profound statement. It opens up a pretty big Pandora's box about who's right and who's wrong - about anything.

I guess it all centers around opinions, or at least that's where it starts - like "Elbow Gate" for example. Actually, it only begins with opinions and quickly deteriorates into name-calling and insults by proponents of the opinions, usually having nothing to do with the topic at hand. Take the O. J. Simpson trial for example. Does anybody know who the victims are? I don't think so. They certainly weren't central to the trial. Well, and the whole business about the Fort McMurray fire sprouted about as many negative opinions about Rachel Notley as could be mustered. And if they weren't about Rachel Notley, then they were about the NDP. The opinions about that equaled the rage of the fire itself. And the intransigence of the opinionaters (if that's a word) is - well - intransigent.

Of course I would be remiss if I didn't include myself in that miserable lot because truth be told, I have my own opinion of those opinions and their sources. So what it amounts to is an adversarial mess. What we need to do (in my opinion) is to find some grounds for compromise; some sort of cauldron to melt down these differing opinions into a homogeneous consensus, just as was done in the six nation confederacy during its existence. We need to stop the name-calling and the promotion of hatred and attendant poisonous rhetoric that social media seems to give us license to harbor. We need to apply the law of the dreaded "R" word and begin to show a little respect to others and to situations. We need to remove the wrongness from our minds and tongues.

When it comes right down to it, we all have value as do our pursuits. We all deserve the right to be heard and our ideas considered. Perhaps we need to treat these irresponsible outbursts as wrong mindedness until such time as we educate ourselves enough to show consideration for our fellow man. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

 

 

 

A Storyteller's Tale

A Storyteller's Tale

It was a dark and stormy night . . . . . . . well, not really. It just seemed that way in my mind. The lobby in the museum was crowded and noisy and full of people, young and old. This was my second foray into the world of storytelling and I was a bit apprehensive. But I needn't have been. The theatre, when Mike opened it up for me, was quiet and acoustically attuned for the projection of voice. I muscled the lectern into position, wondering if I should gather the children up on the stage, or seat them at the front of the theatre. Fortunately I opted for the latter. That way, they were comfortable, quiet and respectful, and weren't falling off the stage.

And so it started. The Buffalo Dance, an old Blackfoot legend that, once I had updated it to what people might understand from it in today's society, was the story I had selected. I began to read, looking up from time to time to gauge the faces of the audience. Well it wasn't the kind of story that involved a lot of violent action or dramatic scenes, so it was hard to tell. I did think though that both children and adults were captivated by the content. To get further input when the story ended, I offered to answer any questions the audience might have. There were a few, quite good ones too. By the third session, one of the boys asked if it was a true story. That brought a lot of smiles and some laughter. What the people didn't realize was that when they left the theatre and headed upstairs for a look around the museum, the first thing they would run into was a display of three full sized stuffed bison. It was amusingly prophetic. Makes me wonder what their dreams would be about as they slept at the museum that night.

Well, what's the good of a story, however magical or interesting, if you can't share it with someone else. My stories, while positive, uplifting and encouraging, are not intended to teach any lessons. Oh, there are lessons to be learned in each of them but those lessons relate to the listener's own personal situation(s). They are therefore structured so that each listener may learn from the story according to his/her own circumstance. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

 

 

 

Canada's on Fire

Canada's on Fire

It's not even summer yet and already the whole country is ablaze with forest fires. It would be easy to make flippant remarks about it if it weren't so serious, or to give all sorts of opinions and irrelevant advice. But this is no joking matter. Canada's on fire - again! Oh, I know there's going to be a lot of conspiracy theorists spinning tales about the tar sands, global warming, job creation and all sorts of other arguments. They might even blame the NDP for the Fort McMurray fire. It would never occur to anyone to consider that the world is a living organism, doing what it does for it's own survival. The forests need to be cleared, renewed and the soil re-energized. When you look at it that way, it's not so surprising is it? It's just good housekeeping. You'd do the same thing at your house wouldn't you?

Well that's how the world works. It just so happens that we humans are in the way and when the world is doing its housecleaning, it becomes a disaster for us. Well HELLO! Maybe we should help with the chores. I read somewhere that the First Nations people used to do that as a matter of routine. They'd do controlled burns of forests and grasslands at specific times of the year to clear and renew the vegetation and the soil, thus achieving two things with one stroke: that being reforestation and re-growth as well as drawing the animals back to that very new growth. And of course they could then predict the location of the herds they were hunting, saving on travel time and distance. Talk about your efficiency.

I'm sure the First Nations weren't perfect in their housekeeping either but you can bet your bottom dollar that they didn't do any of this kind of burning in the heat of the spring or summer either. No, as they say, there is a time for everything and they knew when to do it in concert with the game they hunted not being there when it happened. It was like a well-balanced movement between mother earth, the game animals and the forest floor in perfect synch with each other. It's a perfectly choreographed dance that occurs, thus harmonizing a balance that benefits everyone.

I'd be the last one to give advice, especially at this critical time, but maybe once this fire is out, we should be asking the Elders of the First Nations about such practices. They might still remember how and when it was done. Certainly it's worth a try. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.

 

Urban Sprawl

Urban Sprawl

Ya'd think I was talkin' about subdivisions goin up in empty fields an' condos goin' up in crowded spaces an' all that urbanization. We care about all that stuff of course an' all want to have our say. I mean there's infrastructure to build, schools, hospitals, day care, shoppin' malls an' so on, all so's we can get off the farm an' into urban comfort. Oh shoot, we're so important ain't we? Well, what about them critters who used to live in them empty fields? You think they're gonna stay on the farm where there ain't no farm no more?

Oh well, we're used to the robins an' sparrows an' crows an' things. We're even getting' used to them noisy geese an' don't hardly even notice them. But foxes, raccoons, coyotes an' deer, now that's a different story. Just yesterday a family o' deer was wanderin' around the city streets. They was safely herded to the riverbank thankfully.

Walkin' along the riverbank in the park along a deepened path that has been imprinted for likely thousands of years by both man and beast evokes an almost spiritual experience as you step on it, feelin' the ghosts o' the past. But the trail peters out on either side o' the park into manicured lawns an' gardens. Listen, that's cuttin' off the animal highway. What blinkin' roads are they supposed to use then?

Well, the animals are flexible. They'll walk on pavement instead of the soft earth paths if necessary. If it happens to be downtown Winnipeg (or downtown anywhere) so be it. They really take no notice of the human condition to speak of. They just sneak around our cities pickin' at our garbage, nestin' in our attics an movin' around their ancestral lands without even takin' much notice o' the people who stole them.

We could take a lesson from the critters who are slowly makin' thereselves at home in our urban sprawl an' doin' it within their own comfort zone. We don't usually even know they're there except by accident as in the case o' the deer yesterday. We're the ones makin' a mess o' their traditional territories, but they just adapt to it without a fuss an' make do. At least that's how it seems to me from up here on the top shelf.

Just sayin'.