An Ode to an Old Friend

I wrote this song for my late friend Peter. I think of him often and wish he were still here to appreciate life and have a good jam. Wherever you are, God bless you brother.



Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

More Music for the Masses

Hello all friends, family, and perhaps the occasional interweb-wierdo.

I have spent my afternoon doing nothing but recording music. I have recently been inspired by the song "Mad World" that Gary Jules covered around 10 years ago. This recording is a cover of a cover. I hope you like it.

Keep in mind these recording are on the fly. Otherwise, please scrutinize it and let me know how to improve. Enjoy...




P.S. I am adoring this Gary Jules guy. He has been my latest musical love affair. Check him out at garyjules.com

Back in the Saddle

I realize it has been some time since my last written blog post and I thought there may be some family members out there that could use some posting. Cheryl and I have been very busy for the last few months and our adventures have been grand. We have engaged in new endeavours, enjoyed the summer, and even travelled to the farthest reaches of planet Earth.

Our teaching year wrapped up well. I thought Cheryl and I were rather organized in closing our first year of teaching. Once everything was wrapped up with a nice little bow we immediately busied ourselves with our summer business selling jewelry and accessories.

We had a huge sale on Canada Day in Osborne Village. We were attempting to liquidate most of our remaining stock from last year and Winnipeg, being as cheap as it is, responded voraciously to our reduced prices. This set us up well for the next step in our summer plan; our first business trip overseas.

Once more we were packing our things to fly over the Pacific to walk amongst the Buddhists. It was refreshing to return to Thailand. Our first experience upon arrival was classically Thailand in that it required an immediate Mai Pen Lai attitude. Apparently the door to the luggage bay on the airplane was stuck. The voice on the airport intercom claimed we would receive our luggage inside of 30 min., but we knew otherwise; after all, we lived there once you know. Of course, after 30 min., the intercom once more intruded upon us to indicate further delays. This event repeated itself until about 2 hours later when we received our luggage. Mai pen lai.

Thailand was beautiful just as we remembered. We worried very little and enjoyed a lot. We even went to our old neighbourhood to check things out. It was such an interesting sense of nostalgia to return to our former Thai nesting area. We visited the Thai massage place that we loved. We ate at our favourite restaurant. We saw other falangs that were just getting their Thai legs in their new neighbourhood. It was fascinating!

Revisiting our old business contacts was a lark. They all recognized us and invited us into their shops to ply us with Thai goodies and generous hospitality. It was like visiting old friends. And we felt much more climatized to the massive market situation than when we first visited in 2007. We approached the sprawling market with a "can-do" attitude. We went in, shopped, bartered, bought, made deals, and still got out with our heads intact (a feat not easily attained amidst a market of thronging thousands).

We made sure to spend a few weeks on Koh Chang (my favourite place in the world). Although the rainy season ensured a lot of precipitation we enjoyed swinging in hammocks, reading books, swimming, motorcycles, and way too much delicious food.
When we returned to Bangkok it was a flurry of business; buying, packing, weighing, and then back to the airport. I still can`t believe how much we got away with packing in our luggage!

Upon our return home we took off to Saskatoon to try to sell our newly acquired goods. The festival was good and we enjoyed ourselves. Unfortunately, we didn`t get to see much of my folks whilst we were there as they were at the lake.
Ever since that time we have been adjusting to returning to our little house on the Prairie. Cheryl has begun her first year teaching Grade 5-6 and is enjoying it whilst I am substitute teaching and otherwise fill my days farming the garden and creating some websites for us to begin doing business online. I`ve already launched a pre-website on Etsy.com. If you go there and type in "Walk About" or "jayewert". You can see our first online products for sale. I`ll keep you posted in the following weeks about the official launch of Walk About Jewelry online.

Life goes on and we are back in the saddle. We are happy, healthy, and grateful for what we have. Between that and the fact that we have each other, I would say we`re doing pretty well. Feel free to leave a comment to tell us how you are because we always miss our friends and family.

Music is for Everyone

I found myself sitting with my guitar this morning and writing a song. Then i realized that it has been way too long since I have done that sort of thing. So I took the time to slap a recording together of my newly born song.

Please click the link to listen and offer some advice...
example: put a bridge after the second verse that sums up the premise of the song.
example 2: try to suck less and rock more!
example 3: make the lyrics more universal.



I am hoping for feedback via "songwriter's circle" here so please let me know what you think of this track and I'll be sure to follow.

cheers

Jay

Hello all. I know it has been sometime since I have posted but there is good reason why; I went all the way to the other side of the world and back! I'll tell you more about that later because right now I want you to know about what kept me busy this week. Please go to this link and find out.

Walk About Jewelry on Etsy

I hope you like what you see. I will now begin on a much larger project of creating a massive site for your imports. I'll keep you posted.

cheers

Jay Ewert

To My Mother Whom I Love

Mothers are the first movers of our universes. Without our Mother’s we are nature without nurture, reality without comfort, life without substance. We need our mother’s to teach us just about everything that is important to know, and so let us all raise our glasses to our mom’s.

My mother is one of the best there is. In fact, she is so wonderful she didn’t even come with a warranty. I suppose God had such confidence in his creation he simply felt a warranty was unnecessary. I have to agree because to date I have not yet tried to return her. And why would I? She has provided me with everything from life to clean underwear. When I was young she was omnipotent and omnipresent. When I was a teen she was my source of undying, unconditional love. Even as an adult she is still my mother. She worries about how I am doing and what my future holds. She prays for me, dreams of me, and cares for me because that’s what good mother’s do. I call her to let her know how things are and she keeps me on the phone because she still loves me. I keep her talking because I will always have that little warm feeling inside that says she cares for me.

One Christmas I was in a bookstore and saw a copy of “I’ll Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch. I thought of my mother and how much I missed her living 800 km away. I felt sort of cheesy buying a copy of that book for her but that’s the kind of thing that melts a mother’s heart (and Mom’s heart always deserves a good melting). At Christmas time I gave it to her. She looked longingly at the cover, her eyes filled with love (because that’s what tears are when they are in a mother’s eyes), and she said “I have something else for you. I was afraid you might think it was cheesy but now I think I can give it to you.” She exited silently and soon returned with a second copy of “I’ll Love You Forever”. I admit, I cried a little (okay, and maybe a little more whilst writing this). It was one of those moments when we realized how important we were to each other. I look forward to someday reading that same book to my own children so that they know I will always love them just as my mother will always love me.

Our mothers are fuel for the soul and they are classically under-appreciated. I hope my mother is reading this and knows that I love her enough to declare it to the entire digital world. Happy Mother’s Day Mom, I will always love you.
From your number two son,
Jay Ewert

The Flood, The Duck

The flood is spreading, receding, teasing, flowing, and consuming. It is hungry, heavy, and constant. It is behaving badly, possibly due to emotional scarring obtained in Fargo. Since it’s humble beginnings somewhere in the deep South it has grown to mammoth proportions. At times it slumbers, and lumbers slowly on. Then, with little to no warning, it gets a kink in its plans, the ice jams, and like a sock in a drain it obstructs all traffic wreaking havoc among all around it. Then, in the night, a crack splits the air, and just to be fair, the river moves on to new horizons filled with farmers, families, and prairie towns.
I grew up in the vast flatness of Saskatchewan. Our sky was endless, waves were seen as wind in the grain, and water stayed where it was told to. I learned that somewhere in the world floods could happen. I imagined those places were in some untouched region where unknown people lived mysterious lives unattached to myself. Then I went to Manitoba in ’97. I saw an ocean where there should be none. I saw the extent of the Canadian armed forces being utilized for purpose of sandbags. I realized that floods were real events happening to real people in my very own country. And, I realized that water does what it wants, when it wants, and the heck with the rest.
Each morning I drive between the town where I live and the neighbouring town where I work. In the winter I would greet the sunrise whilst driving with my coffee, music, and a smile. These days I drive under an overcast sky and observe the birds floating amongst the ample waves drifting across the farmer’s fields. I see water that flows, water that sits, water that waves, water that drifts, water that saturates and water that swirls. It is water that threatens and unfurls its gentle fury in an agonizing Mecca journey to the vast watery plain of Lake Winnipeg. And like the early settlers of Canadian history the water cuts its way through the lives of those already there and demands that anything it may touch becomes part of it destructive path. The drive to and from work has changed from a soulful sunrise to a pallor of persistent force.
The community binds together in a counter effort. We gather on the bridges and ask the same questions over and over. We continually reply to each other with universal phrases about Mother Nature, the will of the water, and many variations of “so it goes”. But no deal is ever struck with the water. I don’t know if the water simply forgot to send a delegate to the meeting or if us humans have slighted water at some point and are just now being taught a lesson. In the meantime, the prairie folk are doing what they can and that will have to be enough.
As it stands the water has begun to recede. That is not to say that it will not rear it’s head again, however, for now we are all breathing a little easier and counting our eggs even though they have yet to hatch. Perhaps the water is finding peace at its Mecca and the message is being received by the water still in transit. But there is always an aftermath.
This morning I observed for the third time a baby duck floating listlessly in a flooded ditch. Each morning it appears as a lone figure on the scene pining away for a mother that is yet to be seen. It is alone amidst a larger aquatic happening similar to how many of us feel when faced with the adversity of something we cannot change. But, like the duck, we must all do what we can, and although we may never find the comfort of the mother we can at least float with what we have. To those negatively affected by this flood, my heart goes out to you as it does the lone duck. You have suffered a loss but so long as your head is high you will live to see the next sunrise

A Round Tile in a Square World

The tiles felt uneasy this morning as it had been discovered by the mistress that one of them had decided to sit congruent to the rest of them. One of the other tiles had awoken during the night to the sound of vinyl scratching and the sucking noise of glue becoming unfastened. A popping sound erupted and soon there lay one solitary tile, out of place, congruent, erratically strewn amidst the other, systematically laid, tiles.
The tile who had awoken to the building noise was troubled by the scene. None of the tiles had ever before been possessed to move out of sync with the others. They had been designed by a draftsman, pressed in an automated factory, stacked in meticulous grid fashion, boxed in symmetrical containers, laid by careful hands, and had remained content on the kitchen floor in a perfectly composed checkerboard pattern for nigh of twenty years, and then suddenly, one of them had moved!
As the morning sun entered the window the dust in the air once again rose and fell in a lilting fashion as it always had. The dew rose from the grass, the house creaked and shifted, and the people in the house began to rummage about as people tend to do. However, the tiles felt completely in disarray. One of their brothers had fallen out of line, thus catastrophically altering the perfect symmetry of the pattern that kitchen tiles generally prefer to lay in.
The tiles were tentative to act. They were self-conscious of the fact that sooner or later the mistress would find them in general disarray unless they were to act quickly, but acting quickly, much less acting at all, is not something that kitchen tiles like to do. So the other tiles simply sat there, each of them feeling distress at the disarray and chaos of the one who chose to change. They felt numb to act but were in terror at the fact that one of them had.
The tile that had moved was in a world of discovery. His bottom side was exposed to an air flow previously unfamiliar to him. It gave him a sense of weightlessness that exillerated and inspired him. He gazed up at a ceiling that looked exactly the same as it always had except that now he was viewing it from a 37 degree angle. Suddenly his entire world had changed. Without anything different occurring in his environment his world had changed, and it was all due to his one moment of motivation called motion. The tile soon realized that the world was a subjective place and that his perception of it was it his command.
The other tiles did not share the renegade tile’s point of view. In fact, they were quickly moving from uneasiness to outrage! How dare that tile move autonomously, without any regard for how they might feel. The other tiles knew it was only a matter of time before the mistress discovered the whole fiasco. But what could the other tiles do, especially when ‘doing’ was the root of the very problem itself. By doing anything at all the other tiles would only make things worse! And so they all sat, trembling, unsettled, and weary of what things may come.
The mistress did indeed discover the loose tile, and to the bemusement of the other tiles, seemed to think the situation was quite trivial. She simply retrieved the glue from the drawer, smeared a generous goop upon the underside of the offset tile and proceeded to replace it upon the floor.
As the days stretched on the other tiles found themselves wondering thoughts they had never before thought. An event had occurred; an event of deliverance, liberation, and freedom. One of their own had made a choice and turned it into an individual action with consequences and new experiences. Fate was now just a word to the tiles. The next night there was noise of vinyl scratching and glue squelching. In the morning there lay two tiles upon the floor.

An Ode To The Muse Amidst The Rest Of The World

I have missed you over the past months as I have found myself unable to act. My life has become full of many small things that keep me busy and you, the Muse, has been left on the wayside.
We are all moving about our lives in an attempt to survive and somehow find fulfillment. We move in various ways and observe our movements, subjectively hoping to find greater purpose and a sense of wellbeing. I am similar. I am hungry in the soul. Throughout my days I find many forms of beauty that inspire me to action, but then the weight of reality and the pending nature of my “to do” list impress their power upon me and render me inactive.
Where is the balance? How does one find the time to complete all tasks they set before themselves and yet still find time to ponder, be inspired, and create? My Muse is fettered by responsibility just as many of you reading this are now saying, “Hey, so is mine!”
Is has been said that we are products of our environment, and yet, we choose where we go, what we do, and most importantly, how we perceive it. I urge your focus to be on the last of these for it is this aspect that becomes the most important. How we perceive our existence determines our outlook and future actions. A positive outlook can make any half-empty glass become half-full.
“Oh great!” you say “Now this is just another twit preaching how to get up on the right side of the bed.” Absolutely not! That is the kind of ‘quick-fix’ crap that misleads people into assuming they are happy when, in fact, they are miserable. What I am trying to say is that if you are not capable of seeing your environment positively then you need to change that environment immediately. The world does not owe you anything, nor will it ever. You are the only person that owes you a thing, so pay up or get out.
We now come to why I am calling my Muse back to me. Each day I find small inspirations from the music on the radio to the savantic mutterings of my students. Inspiration is all around us, however, it is only available to those who are listening for it. I have recently realized that my Muse did not leave me, it is simply that at some point I chose to stop listening for it. Then, one day, I heard something in a song, then I saw a pattern in the rays of the sunrise, and then I paused a moment when thinking of a fond memory. My Muse is here; always has been and always will be. So, am I calling my muse back to me? No, I am calling myself to listen and asking that if you feel similar you will do the same.

I Got a Job!!!

The day has come. I have waited a long time but it is finally here. After many years of training I am finally about to embark on the next leg of my professional journey; I have been hired as a full time teacher!

Some of you may have noticed that I have not been posting on this blog much lately. Despite this fact I have actually been writing quite a bit, but not things that are easily publishable online. I have had many interesting and soul-searching experiences during my substitute teaching this fall, however, it would be ill-professional to publish in-school experiences. But this is different, this is a blog of me saying "Yes, I got a job!".

When I went to my interview I felt trepidation coursing through me. I entered my first professional interview just hoping I wouldn’t swallow my own foot much less get the job. But then there I was in the interview acting calm and collected and saying what, apparently, were good answers to dynamic questions. Like most people I walked away with an exhale of breath and a silent prayer on my lips..."Please God, help me accept the things I cannot change."

My hopes were neither up nor down. As I considered the interview my hindsight was neither clear nor 20/20. How did I do? Did I say what they wanted to hear? Have I helped or hindered my future as an educator?

Two days later the phone rings and the hair on my neck stands erect. I twitch twice on the way to the phone. My body feels involuntary as I answer the call. The voice on the other end is kind. Perhaps this voice is merely playing out niceties in order to let me down nicely. What do you mean how did I feel the interview went? I am certain this is the pleasant let-down where they tell you it went well and not to be discouraged in applying for future positions. I listen with frenetic impatience trying not to let my anticipation show and then...the voice offers me the job. I shake my head. Did I hear that right? The voice repeats the offer. Oh my God! I did hear it right! I am close to hysterical with excitement; "I’m going to be a teacher! A real, honest to God teacher, with a cheesy coffee mug on my desk and all!" Finally I will be able to pursue what I have trained so long to do!

Needless to say, I am already preparing and am excited at the upcoming opportunities. Come January I will be a full-time teacher and I am pleased to tell you, my family and readers, that it makes me happy.

*Note: If you wish to know more please drop a line. I would love to share not only our recent events but yours as well.

Hurray, hurrah for apple pie! Yesterday was Thanksgiving and it was a thankful day. Although it wasn’t spent with the greater family it was still Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving was Cheryl’s and my first Thanksgiving together (Thailand ones don’t count). We chose to spend the weekend with each other as we are now the most immediate family we have. So we got in the car and drove across the prairies on a road trip. We drove for miles across the land admiring the natural beauty that is the prairies in fall. The leave were turning colour, the wind was rustling, and cabins were closing down. But, whilst most people were curled up by fireplaces, cooking dinners, and calling family we were trekking in the van. We drove through the Narrows and had lunch. We drove through Riding Mountain National Park and sat by a lake. We ate nachos and watched the sunset. And once we were successfully over the hills and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we went. We drove right into Shoal Lake to visit Cheryl’s Grandmother at the hospital there. She seemed quite pleasantly surprised to see us what with our smiles and Thanksgiving wishes. We had a nice visit for a few hours and then Cheryl and I ventured back into the open prairies.

By this time the wind was howling and the rain was coming in such torrents that it hit our van in large aqua-barriers. At times the weather could be considered “dicey” but like all things it eventually passed. By Sunday night we had arrived home and set ourselves up for the final 24 hours of Thanksgiving weekend. For our final day Cheryl and I did nothing but watch movies, prepare food, and eat food. I’m certain the Pilgrims would have been proud. Although we were not sitting across the table from family and friends, we were definitely giving thanks for all that we have. My particular highlight of the day was making my first apple pie from scratch. That’s right, Mom was not there so I made the apple pie (although I can’t take all the credit because whilst I was making the pie Cheryl made the rest of the meal).

Of course, whether you celebrate Thanksgiving with family or not the one tradition that is set in stone about the holiday is you must eat too much and then pass out from food coma, and this we did. By 9 p.m. we were comfortably numb and discovering that our belts go one size larger than usual, and maybe it’s the Mennonite in me but faspa soon overtook us and it was time for bed.

To all our family and friends out there who celebrated the holiday without us, we are thankful to have you in our lives. We hope your holiday was full of thanks, family, and food. And if you are just a lucky internet reader coming for a visit, thanks for sharing our story (and feel free to share yours if you want to leave a comment).

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!


Note: The pictures used in this post were taken be Cheryl Bates and Jay Ewert (that's right, from this weekend)

Life is Good...But the Weeds Must Die

Life in a small town thus far has been good. Cheryl has been enjoying her job and I have begun the regular life of a substitute teacher. For the past week-and-a-bit I have been daily moving between schools pretending I am a knowledge source from everything from Grade 1 to highschool home-ec. I feel like those annoying people in the Holiday Inn commercials; “Well, no I’m not an ICT instructor, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night!”. But the work has been good. I have been exposed to the schools and most of the experiences have been good. I would tell you more but this is a public blog and I am not about to become an ‘agent of the state’ with his foot in his mouth.

Otherwise, we are happy in our home.

Today, however, poses a new threat to my happiness because insofar no one has called me in to work, and that means I have no excuse to avoid the pending yardwork. There is at least 12 hours of pulling weeds with my name written all over it and so a-weed-pulling- I must go.

This feeling is not one of triumph such as my heroic battle against the lawn because unlike the lawn, which carries its own sense of elegance and self-worth, weeds are a ruthless enemy. Weeds are sneaky and mean, they engage in Guerrilla-like tactics; striking when you least expect it, hiding behind the foliage only to strike when your guard is down. The thistles stick in your hands, the spores violate the air, and they are always planning another attack wave with hidden numbers. Their roots extend deep to the point of conspiracy. Indeed, the only way to rid yourself of a weed is to dig at its roots until either you or the weed is forever vanquished. To do otherwise is futile. But weeds have learned to survive. There are even plants in the garden that are really undercover weeds. They are broadleaf yet flower, but don’t be deceived, they are the enemy and they must die. Other plants seem to have forged an alliance, covering the existence of the weeds with their own foliage, thus concealing the threat and converting it to a covert operation. Yes, the weeds have a plan but I have a secret weapon…Killex. Yes, I intend to descend upon the yard with chemical warfare. With my Killex canister in hand I will distribute death to the organic onslaught that is the weeds. And when the canister runs dry I shall deal out weed-death with my garden-gloved hands. There may be some casualties along the way but it will all be for the greater good (I would say “democracy shall prevail but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we are only talking about plants here).

In the words of Garfield the cat, “If I’m not back in 10 minutes, send a banana-cream pie after me.”

Emerging Formal Adulthood

I have just completed one of the many tasks that now define my new contemporary proletariat life; I mowed the lawn. The blades of grass shuddered as I approached, for they could sense my abject manliness projected across the yard. Within my chest beat the heart of a new man; one who lives amongst equals in a world of hard-working, independent folk, and the grass new it. The weeds felt smug in the knowledge that the mower was powerless against them, but their time will come soon.

After many years of floundering through my gen-x advanced-gestation period, I have finally arrived on the other side; that of living, loving, and having. Cheryl and I are happily moving into our new lives with a vigor formerly unknown to us. We are emerging upon a new part of our lives I will call “formal adulthood”.

This morning the lawn was a symbol of our emerging adulthood. Cheryl bustled about the house attending to various odds and ends. We moved about our new world with purpose of hard-work and cleanliness (which I hear is next to Godliness). At one point she ceased her efforts in order to greet me in the yard and bring a cool drink. We met, we smiled, we exchanged looks, and in front of all the lawn to see, we kissed. It was a flirtation of our new-found independence, a breath of life fanning the flame of exalted and proud mediocrity. The grass was trembling.

But where does one go from there you might ask? Well, ever onward my friend. The beginning now is merely a continuation of what was and the end is merely the gateway to the next. All of us humans on planet Earth are moving forward and the best place to get to is one you are at. I am here, the world is turning, and I am fine.

The Best is Yet to Come

Yes, it has been a loooonnng time since my last blog but never fear dear readers...I am fine. Cheryl and I have been traveling across the prairies selling our wares and enjoying life. We have survived six weeks of grueling work and our blood, sweat, and tears have finally purchased us a few days off. Upon checking the interweb it came to my notice that many of you have been checking this site to no avail and so I have logged on to assure you all that we are not only still alive but are also kicking. And...I intend to once again regale you all with tales of the innermost kind dealing with events, quirks, and introspection. But first...a few days off. Until the next interspective moment on the web (the best is yet to come).

Keep you stick on the ice.

Sincerely
Jay Ewert

The Times They Are A-Changin

Well here we are as always, two people amidst a changing universe around us. Throughout history the world has always been subjective to the inevitability of change and Cheryl and I are no exception to this rule. Change is upon us, now how do we choose to receive it?

If you have been savy enough to engage with us personally then you no doubt are aware that Cheryl and I plan to relocate soon. During our escapade toward employment Cheryl was blessed with a job offer in Arborg (close to Gimli). She has since accepted the position and we have been moving ever-closer to our new future in the again frontier of the Canadian Prairies.

How are we receiving it you may ask? Well, we are ecstatic! Only yesterday we secured ourselves a house to rent complete with a beautiful backyard. The community of Arborg is lovely and the people are friendly. This is that moment in our lives when we embrace our coming of age and "come into our own" so to speak, and I for one am excited!

Although I am aware, as I stated initially, that everyone on Earth is experiencing change I feel particularly large in life because the changes Cheryl and I are currently engaged in are those of epic proportions. We are embarking upon the next step of life. Have you ever read that tiresome motivational poster that states "Today is the first day of the rest of your life"? Well, it suddenly makes sense. Carpe Diem brother, the world is turning!

but how are we to feel about all this? Like any life-changing scenario we are quaking with trepidation and anticipation. The ground is shifting and if we don`t shuffle soon we just might spill?. Everyone experiences those moments of personal apprehension when they realize they are getting older, or feeling that their boundaries have somehow changed due to the inevitability of entropy. Physicists hypothesize the Universe is currently etching outward and that all matter is slowly moving toward disarray. Do we all feel this apprehension as a manner of holding together what we thought we knew in light of this universal push towards disarray? Or, is it just simple xenophobic reactiveness; the unknown seeming to loom over us?

I feel this change is part of the natural process of life. Many past trials of life have taught me the tools required to advance ever further into the unknown of the future. And without my past failures I could never harvest the successes of the future. Therefore I greet the new challenges of the future with a lucid fervor. My past has granted me a dynamic life, beautiful partner, and a bright future. The only challenge that seems important at this point is to savor the now, and the now is savory. In several days our family and friends will all gather to celebrate our changing and growing lives. They will join us in solidarity to bless our future. Thus, savoring the moment is just what the doctor ordered. So,how are we taking the change? We are embracing it and counting ourselves as lucky.

*Blessings to all you readers that are experiencing change. And to those joining us in a few days, we are looking forward to facing changes with you by our side.

What Direction This May Come

Which way are we all going? To each of us there is an direction unforeseen; a direction that must be followed. Fortunately for us we are all somewhat limited in our perception of it.

Where is this ridiculous airy notion coming from you ask? I have not written for some time and am just now realizing it is because I have been working so hard on trying to find work and define my plans of employment that I have ignored my lust to express in such a form as writing. I was just lying in bed and finishing a delightful novel by Stephen King. He followed up his story with a tirade of writing declaring that the rest of the story was soon to be written, however, it would span 3000 pages and take at least 300 years to write. He claimed he knew little of the details of the story but that somewhere within him was the knowledge, direction, and complete layout of the world he would create. And yet, does that not describe the mental existence of people? We are all aware of our ambitions but we only let ourselves find out on a need-to-know basis. Each day I learn more of myself just as you do. What fascination. Our lives are like a writer revealing a story unto their own self.

*Stay tuned for more cultural awareness in the future. I would have kept this writing for myself but it just felt so universal.

Apply Yourself!

What is an application but an extension of my will out to the world asking it to please convert me into a working form of person. “I, Jay Ewert wish to become part of the machine!” I have spent days and weeks applying for various forms of employment now and I am getting just a wee-bit wiped by the effort it is costing me emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I have written, called, promised, edited, faxed, emailed etc. just about everything that describes me to be a productive and professional worker, and yet, I do not feel fine. But, why not? Isn’t productivity toward a greater goal supposed to be rewarding in some internal way? Aren’t we, as animal by-products of our environment supposedly programmed to feel satisfaction from our work? I am led to believe this is true. However, I am not the farmer observing the crop he just pulled in, nor am I the fisherman that enjoys the frying of my prized catch of the day. No, I am the job-hunter in all his fury. I am the man with the resume hoping to unearth the direction of my future. I am the aspiring proletariate just waiting for his chance to make some mark on something at some point in the future so that I may respect myself in the mirror. I am every man’s moment before success or failure!

We have all been through this; the moments of pure agony that are the job-hunt. These are the times of futility that just might render opportunity should the fortuitous moment choose to present itself. Will the right person get this paper on their desk at the right time? Will they be looking for me or will I be able to convince them I am what they are looking for? The whole debacle becomes a test of ones persistence. I mean, how long can one person throw a wet noodle at a brick wall before they realize the futility of their situation? And yet my university has told me repeatedly that my situation is not futile. They tell me that I am a national resource ready to be fertilized and harvested. I am told that I will be successful. I wish they would tell my potential employers this. If only they knew what an educational asset I will be on their staff. But, that is my current vocation; to convince them and thus render harvest to my talents.

I am the man pursuing the plan. I aim to be an educator but first I must learn how to bring it about. And so I will stop procrastinating in the form of this online, whining blog, and get out there in the wide, virtual world and apply myself online. Maybe virtual brick walls are not as sturdy (and thus my wet noodles will shatter my adversity).

Ode to the Back-packer Haven of Kaosan Road

Koasan Road in Bangkok is an amazing place to be. All places that have been embraced by the sensuous yet bitter taste of tourism have a place such as Kaosan. A haven for the falangs that penetrate the culture of the locals, devour the scene and then leave in their wake a consistent trickle of tourism dollars to encourage the ongoing patronage of the locals.

Tourism is not a modest market in Thailand. Perhaps, once, Thailand was an untouched Kingdom, but now it is a contemporary nation of entrepreneurs consistently developing new ways of economic survival. One should expect that in any place dubbed the " entrepreneurial kingdom" that tourism would not only be present, but also be a quickly exploited means of revenue and ever-increasing business. And thus, Thailand has embraced tourism with open arms, and since, the tributary has become a raging river complete with rapids; and similar to rapids, the persistent and powerful flow is shaping the future of the river.

Koasan is a creation of these rapids. As falang flow into the capitol of Bangkok the demand for a haven carves out its environment. Koasan is a collection of everything that the average falang wants from varying levels of lodging, to restaurants and bars, to shops and entertainment. It is a colorful mixture of needs, wants and wishes ready to satisfy the wims of all who enter from the benign sight-seer to the venal sinner.

"Falang" is a term that means "foreigner" generally meaning "white and not from around here". I am certain that when the word "falang" is said little bells go off in a Thai person’s head that say "money, good times, and easy life". Perhaps that is why Thai people so enjoy pointing at us and saying it like a happily proclaimed label. Kaosan is a direct reflection of this. It caters to one's wants as a traveler no matter who they are and it encompasses good times and fun with an affordable price tag attached.

Kaosan Road is a very fun place to go be. I still remember the first time Cheryl and I ventured into downtown Bangkok and visited the glory of Kaosan. It was night and we were hungry and thirsty (two very good things to be when visiting Kaosan). We knew we were close because there seemed to be a backpacker element present as all the t-shirts being sold on the sidewalk were of various pop-culture icons from Bob Marley to Sesame Street. This place definitely screamed "good time-money-fun" and we hadn't even rounded the corner. And then we did - stretching before us was a street teeming with falangs from all over the world all milling about the small cart shops selling t-shirts, jewelry, simple stir-fry food, and almost anything a falang could want. Above our heads was a circus freak show of neon lights promising places to stay, drink, buy, relax, party, massage, eat, and every other service a traveler may wish to have offered. It was like walking into the backpacker’s version of Disneyland complete with mascots (I have never seen so many Thai people dressed like Captain Jack Sparrow trying to sell necklaces and dred-locks).

The aura of Kaosan is not unlike that of a street festival except that it extends down every alley and sidestreet similar to how a river breaks into creeks, tributaries, and streams. And all you have to do is follow the flow to any corner and you will find something interesting, satiating, or somehow entertaining.

Cheryl and I have spent many in-town weekends on Kaosan Road. We'll take a taxi ride into town and troll Kaosan and the surrounding tributaries taking part in various foods, drinks, and fun. There are young people, old people, and everything in-between enjoying themselves. We now have our favourite restaurants and inexpensive guesthouses where we like to stay. Our mental map of Kaosan grows with each visit. Over time we have discovered new avenues to walk down and found entire new ecosystems of markets and people to see and be entertained by. There is always another corner with more to see. It was only a week-and-a-half ago that Cheryl and I discovered what I have dubbed “Importer’s Alley” (which of course was a great find for two aspiring importers such as ourselves).

Kaosan is not only a great place to be but also serves as a great base of operations for both the training and the seasoned traveler. During the days we venture out to surrounding Bangkok such as the vast Jatujak weekend market, ancient temples, or the Grand Palace. Bangkok stretches onward in all directions with many places to see but Kaosan is a great place to start and finish,

I will miss visiting this place amongst many others when Cheryl and depart for Canada. So many little details that started with wonder have now become cherished and common place for us here. We have made ourselves a home complete with a job to work, an island to visit, and a place to eat and rest on the weekends. Kaosan is just one of many places I tip my hat to.

Homecoming is now (and isn't that nice?)

Being home has been a literal breath of fresh air. The quality of breathing is better than Bangkok could ever hope for and that’s just the beginning. Coming home is full of the little things one missed whilst away. I have missed many things from fresh air to the illusion of common courtesy. Honestly, only yesterday I wasn’t paying attention in line and noone even ran in front of me, they smiled and nodded me forward (how nice).

Yes, returning to Canada has its perks. In the last week or so Cheryl and I have already seen many friends and family that we were sorely missing and that’s emotional money for the spiritual piggy bank. It is good to be home.

But, homecoming also has its own bends and twists to it, like the sense that one is returning to a reality of sorts. The world is suddenly tangible again like a dream de-materialized to the moan of an alarm-clock. We sense the impending doom of searching for work and preparing for the future. So it goes.

The mindset is different, yet somehow familiar, but coming home has been an adjustment both good and bad. One thing I am having a hard time coming to terms with is moving from a decidedly Buddhist overall perspective to that of the neo-Christianized society of our emerging 21st century Canada. I immediately noticed that everyone here is in a hurry. People are always thinking of either the next moment or the last. What happened in the past is viewed as important somehow because it helped to shape the now. But the now is only important because it can help shape the future. The future is of course the most important because it is something to work toward, something in which to invest all ones hopes, fears, efforts, thoughts, integrity, emotions, planning, etc., etc. People in North America are so concerned about earning the salvation of the next moment it appears they forget to find the peace in the moment they are in.

Cheryl and I lived in a city of more than 12 million people for almost a year. Prior to our departure over the big blue I assumed that people there would always be in a rush with something on their mind. Television has taught me that big cities are places of rushing, struggling, and crashing efforts colliding in hopes of a distant form of survival, however, this was not so in Bangkok. Yes, the city was big and there were always many people waiting to get where they were trying to go but every person seemed focused only on what they were doing not merely on what they did or are about to do. At times Thai people seemed simple in their thought-processes with mild expressions of indifference painted upon their demeanor and seemingly meager amounts of intent for the future. But they were not simple in any way, they were fascinating. Their peaceful aura stemmed not from simple thoughts but from peace in the moment.

The bus in a big city can be a stressful place. People are crammed into a tiny area intending to travel to places of work they loathe and wish not to go. They are filled with anxiety about what they will do when they get there, how much they don’t want to be there or even on this very bus on which they stand, and many other details such as how it irritated them to have to wait five-and-a-half minutes for the bus today instead of the usual five. The bus can indeed be a place full of petty anxieties dealing mainly in worry about the past and future mixed with irritation of the now. However, in Thailand I found myself on a crowded bus in awe of the fact that everyone there was at peace. Although there was still ample situation to create stress the people there were complacent to their current position. They were humble in their stance as they slowly drifted through the streets en route to work. They seemed to think only of the fact that they were there with something to do and that was sufficient. There is no point in fretting upon the immediate future since the present is not currently connected, and therein lies the fulcrum of today’s lesson in cultural understanding; the past is not now, the future is later, but now is the moment and it is that is simple.

It is this aspect of the “now” in mental consciousness that has been very difficult for me to accept upon returning home. After living in a primarily Buddhist society for the last year I have found myself turn a more mellow colour than before. I don’t know what my previous colour was but if it was white I am now a soft egg-shell that one would paint their study in hopes of finding tranquility. I recall being much more relaxed in Thailand than I feel here and I think the reason is the contrast of societal forming views. In the past week and half I have moved from a Buddhist societal mentality to that of our new-Christian formed/freemarket competition/fight for tomorrow’s salvation today type mentality and I must say it has been unsettling. I already have stomach acid build up and can’t sleep at night because I am worried about tomorrow. At some point during our trans-Pacific flight the air changed from Buddhist warmth to contemporary North American chill.

Cheryl had warned me that coming home would induce a reverse-culture-shock that would catch me off-guard so I can’t say I didn’t know this was coming. But this shock is enormous. When I dwell on what was (which I am doing a lot more now that Canadian society has once more re-absorbed me) I recall how mellow and in-the-moment I was only days before. I am already forgetting the peace of the “now” and am once again moving unerringly toward the future. I am now faced with trying to integrate the two. I don’t want to fret like so many of us Canadians who are always in a rush to something else. Perhaps my travel overseas to the land of the Buddhists has something more to teach me; how to enjoy the moment and not only worry about the next.

Now that you have read about my mental journey do yourself a favour; at least three times today stop and ask yourself “am I enjoying this moment or am I only dwelling on the past or the future?”. Not only will you find you are often not in the moment but also asking yourself that question will help remember to enjoy the “now” more in the future (and isn’t that a better plan for the future than just worrying about it?).

*Note: If this works for you or you just want to comment on this blog, please use the link below to leave a comment. And, don’t forget to stay tuned for more blogging…

...will blog again soon...

Sorry everyone for not having many more entertaining things for you to read. Cheryl and I have been selfishly enjoying each others company instead of the warm glow of the computer screen. However, I have been writing many things and plan to be posting many things once we are once again landed in Canada (there are just too many interesting things about Asia to write about). So tune in later...