A Year of Patience

sitting on our fire escape in the presence of little jack films

This past year was one of patience. I loaded the proverbial bullets and remained on guard; watching my contemporaries find their way with a tenacity and courage. And successfully so. A genuine seizing of the moment was displayed by many artists whom I had both mentored and revered. I countered hints of feeling stagnant with work; physically and creatively - not too mention, emotionally. I reflected on the nature of my pursuit and again, with patience, chose to raise my child instead of focus on my vocation.

The most minuscule of life window where a father can cement that bond akin to a mother's was achieved. Granted, I'll never match the connection he and his mother formed but what was created is more than many fathers have the privilege of attempting. This alone has defined the last eighteen months of my life while providing a lens to see life, itself, through.

I watched the outside world and contributed where I could. In my weakest moments I succumbed to low energy allowing failing institutes and systems of power to consume my thought process. In my strongest however I was generous, investing in relationships and channeling anger into compassion. My wife and I built a connection with our friend Ande, a refugee from Eritrea, a country on the Red Sea coast in northeast Africa. With only one leg, he does his "recycling", up at 3:00 am, collecting cans and bottles to bring his family over from Utopia. Perspective. He is a God among us.

In an attempt to make sense, I journaled and sussed out my philosophies. The more polished pieces found their way into the world ranging from experiences to spiritual discoveries. The union of which came with the loss of my Uncle John. My "For Uncle John" series revealing insights I could only have wished to share with him in all the time we did spend together. I have to believe he knew it already.

I saw relationships and marriages come to turmoil in close friends and family members. The unfortunate confrontations of others' provide us with lessons. I undoubtedly gave too much advice that I was guilty of not following myself, quick to realize, I put love into action on the home front. I've said I have a difficult and happy marriage. Difficult isn't the right word, but the ongoing sacrifices give to strength. When Melanie and I find ourselves in opposition, we've learned to de-escalate. And it's difficult to do so. I guess difficult and happy does describe it well.

I sure didn't read as much as I usually do in a year, but what I did read was substantial - mostly political texts. One of which came from a mentor and past premier and another from a close friend and the best premier our province never had. Like creative projects, I tend to have a handful of books on the go at once; currently, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin, The Diving-Bell and The Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby and lastly, Reality Transurfing I-V by Vadim Zeland. The latter, to revolutionize all I've come to know of myself.

On December 31 of last year, we were to ourselves, our little guy was put to bed and his mother and I picked away at a charcuterie board until midnight. I can't recall the specifics but we drank from our soda stream and made projections for the coming year. I looked at my sparkling water and said "alcohol free until 2023". Words are power - and with that, I committed.