The Meaning of Life

As some of you know, I have recently been diagnosed with cancer. Yeah, it sucks. I’ve been trying to blog about it, but so far nothing I wrote ever seemed quite – right. So the subject remained untouched, till now.

Over the last few days I’ve been praying and thinking about the situation a lot and, not unsurprisingly, found myself pondering the ‘meaning of life’ – mine in particular, and what the future might hold, both during the radiation treatments and after. Just when I thought God wasn’t going to give me any insight right away, I was reminded of a story I haven’t read in years. I went looking for it to read again and after having don so found it fit the moment perfectly. Surprise, God was paying attention after all. (Just kidding – of course He was.)

It’s called The Three Questions; it’s a short story written by Leo Tolstoy and since it’s in the public domain now I present it to you in it’s entirety below. It’ll only take about 5 minutes or so to read, and says more about where I am right now than I ever could.

So, grab a cuppa joe (or tea for that matter) and take the time to read it. Regardless of your philosphical or religious leanings I think you’ll agree it’s hard to argue with Tolstoy’s answers.

Shalom

————

The Three Questions

By Leo Tolstoy

It once occurred to a certain king, that if he always knew the right time to begin everything; if he knew who were the right people to listen to, and whom to avoid; and, above all, if he always knew what was the most important thing to do, he would never fail in anything he might undertake.

And this thought having occurred to him, he had it proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who would teach him what was the right time for every action, and who were the most necessary people, and how he might know what was the most important thing to do.

And learned men came to the King, but they all answered his questions differently.

In reply to the first question, some said that to know the right time for every action, one must draw up in advance, a table of days, months and years, and must live strictly according to it. Only thus, said they, could everything be done at its proper time. Others declared that it was impossible to decide beforehand the right time for every action; but that, not letting oneself be absorbed in idle pastimes, one should always attend to all that was going on, and then do what was most needful. Others, again, said that however attentive the King might be to what was going on, it was impossible for one man to decide correctly the right time for every action, but that he should have a Council of wise men, who would help him to fix the proper time for everything.

But then again others said there were some things which could not wait to be laid before a Council, but about which one had at once to decide whether to undertake them or not. But in order to decide that, one must know beforehand what was going to happen. It is only magicians who know that; and, therefore, in order to know the right time for every action, one must consult magicians.

Equally various were the answers to the second question. Some said, the people the King most needed were his councillors; others, the priests; others, the doctors; while some said the warriors were the most necessary.

To the third question, as to what was the most important occupation: some replied that the most important thing in the world was science. Others said it was skill in warfare; and others, again, that it was religious worship.

All the answers being different, the King agreed with none of them, and gave the reward to no one. But still wishing to find the right answers to his questions, he decided to consult a hermit, widely renowned for his wisdom.

The hermit lived in a wood which he never quitted, and he received none but common folk. So the King put on simple clothes, and before reaching the hermit’s cell dismounted from his horse, and, leaving his body-guard behind, went on alone.

When the King approached, the hermit was digging the ground in front of his hut. Seeing the King, he greeted him and went on digging. The hermit was frail and weak, and each time he stuck his spade into the ground and turned a little earth, he breathed heavily.

The King went up to him and said: “I have come to you, wise hermit, to ask you to answer three questions: How can I learn to do the right thing at the right time? Who are the people I most need, and to whom should I, therefore, pay more attention than to the rest? And, what affairs are the most important, and need my first attention?”

The hermit listened to the King, but answered nothing. He just spat on his hand and recommenced digging.

“You are tired,” said the King, “let me take the spade and work awhile for you.”

“Thanks!” said the hermit, and, giving the spade to the King, he sat down on the ground.

When he had dug two beds, the King stopped and repeated his questions. The hermit again gave no answer, but rose, stretched out his hand for the spade, and said: “Now rest awhile-and let me work a bit.”

But the King did not give him the spade, and continued to dig. One hour passed, and another. The sun began to sink behind the trees, and the King at last stuck the spade into the ground, and said: “I came to you, wise man, for an answer to my questions. If you can give me none, tell me so, and I will return home.”

“Here comes some one running,” said the hermit, “let us see who it is.”

The King turned round, and saw a bearded man come running out of the wood. The man held his hands pressed against his stomach, and blood was flowing from under them. When he reached the King, he fell fainting on the ground moaning feebly. The King and the hermit unfastened the man’s clothing. There was a large wound in his stomach. The King washed it as best he could, and bandaged it with his handkerchief and with a towel the hermit had. But the blood would not stop flowing, and the King again and again removed the bandage soaked with warm blood, and washed and rebandaged the wound.

When at last the blood ceased flowing, the man revived and asked for something to drink. The King brought fresh water and gave it to him. Meanwhile the sun had set, and it had become cool. So the King, with the hermit’s help, carried the wounded man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Lying on the bed the man closed his eyes and was quiet; but the King was so tired with his walk and with the work he had done, that he crouched down on the threshold, and also fell asleep–so soundly that he slept all through the short summer night. When he awoke in the morning, it was long before he could remember where he was, or who was the strange bearded man lying on the bed and gazing intently at him with shining eyes.

“Forgive me!” said the bearded man in a weak voice, when he saw that the King was awake and was looking at him.

“I do not know you, and have nothing to forgive you for,” said the King.

“You do not know me, but I know you. I am that enemy of yours who swore to revenge himself on you, because you executed his brother and seized his property. I knew you had gone alone to see the hermit, and I resolved to kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not return. So I came out from my ambush to find you, and I came upon your bodyguard, and they recognized me, and wounded me. I escaped from them, but should have bled to death had you not dressed my wound. I wished to kill you, and you have saved my life. Now, if I live, and if you wish it, I will serve you as your most faithful slave, and will bid my sons do the same. Forgive me!”

The King was very glad to have made peace with his enemy so easily, and to have gained him for a friend, and he not only forgave him, but said he would send his servants and his own physician to attend him, and promised to restore his property.

Having taken leave of the wounded man, the King went out into the porch and looked around for the hermit. Before going away he wished once more to beg an answer to the questions he had put. The hermit was outside, on his knees, sowing seeds in the beds that had been dug the day before.

The King approached him, and said: “For the last time, I pray you to answer my questions, wise man.”

“You have already been answered!” said the hermit, still crouching on his thin legs, and looking up at the King, who stood before him.

“How answered? What do you mean?” asked the King.

“Do you not see,” replied the hermit. “If you had not pitied my weakness yesterday, and had not dug those beds for me, but had gone your way, that man would have attacked you, and you would have repented of not having stayed with me. So the most important time was when you were digging the beds; and I was the most important man; and to do me good was your most important business. Afterwards when that man ran to us, the most important time was when you were attending to him, for if you had not bound up his wounds he would have died without having made peace with you. So he was the most important man, and what you did for him was your most important business.

Remember then: there is only one time that is important– Now! It is the most important time because it is the only time when we have any power. The most necessary man is he with whom you are, for no man knows whether he will ever have dealings with any one else: and the most important affair is, to do him good, because for that purpose alone was man sent into this life!”

On the Road Again…

Bike Computer Day 1

Bike Computer Day 1

Well Daylight Saving Time is upon us once more and that can mean only one thing. It’s time for me to get my bike out of the trainer and back onto the street. With less than three months till the 2010 Ride to Conquer Cancer I have some trainin’ to do.

Started off slow today; just a little over 24 km. Did 10km to work this morning in the rain and then home gain with a side trip to the church. My time? Nearly 2 hours total; a blistering 13.9 km/hr average. First day with real hills and hauling about 35 lbs of extra gear (tool bag and computer case) I wasn’t in any hurry.

But it’s a start; that’s what matters. Now the question is, “how much can I get in before the Ride?”

Much Ado about an Anniversary

It was a year ago this week that I underwent the surgery for my ruptured Achilles tendon. Not unexpectedly, it had a profound affect on the way things unfolded this past year. I spent almost half of 2009 in rehab of one kind or another trying to get back to where I was before the accident. I would have to say that I’m at about 85-90% which is just about what they told me to expect.

I can still ride my bike, for which I am very grateful. In June I had a great time on the Ride to Conquer Cancer with the rest of Team Kortight and I am looking forward to participating in the 2010 Ride later this year with an even larger team; but more on that in another post.

What I wanted to write about today is that this week, one year after the fact, I finally returned to the scene of the crime. The other night I attending a production meeting for “Much Ado About Nothing“, the Shakespearean comedy being presented by Guelph Little Theatre in April.

There was every much a sense of déjà vu as I crossed the parking lot and entered the front doors. It was, after all, a winter night the last time I was there. Just like that night a year ago there was a slight breeze, stars were twinkling in the clear winter sky, the soft glow of the florescent lights emanated from the lobby, and smoke rose lazily from the cluster of smokers near the front door – (heavy sigh)  it was almost as if no time had passed at all.

However, time has indeed passed and that became abundantly clear shortly after walking in the door.  I spent some time catching up with friends, hearing about the projects they had been working on, telling them what was happening with me.  Each conversation was punctuated by the same expression, “Man, has it really been a year?”

The time lag continued to make itself obvious during the discussion about the play. It took a while to get back in the groove, feeling my way into the conversation almost like a newcomer. Adding to the feeling was the fact there are only two familiar faces on the production staff:  Gerry Butts is directing, and Beth Freeth is stage managing.

I’ve worked with Beth as SM before, on ‘Kitchen Witches’ for the Elora Community Theatre. She’s an energetic type,  knows her stuff, understands the dynamics of what I need to fulfill my role as Sound scape Designer, and has a self professed affinity for Star Trek.  I’m going to enjoy working with her again.

Gerry is a gentle giant of a man who I first got to know when he played Willie Loman in GLT’s production of “Death of a Salesman.” I’ve never worked with him as a director though and I’ve seen other director/actor types in action, some ofwhich can be a regular Jekyll and Hyde. I am looking forward to discovering both his directorial style and how he functions at the helm of a team.

Poster for Much Ado about Nothing at GLT

Romance & Comedy in 16th Century Italy

There’s is one other familiar face. I’m beginning to believe there is ethereal conspiracy afoot in the heavenly realms designed to keep me in the company of this person. But I don’t mind because he is one of the more congenial and dare I say brilliant people it has been my pleasure to meet. Once more Ken Cameron is involved in the same production as I, this time he brings his thespian skills to bear in the role of Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon. Ken is a gifted actor who has worked with me on every project I’ve been on save one (‘Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean’ – on which I was brought in only a week and a half before opening) and I have come to value his friendship.

Adding to the mix this time however, is the addition of Ken’s son Andrew to the cast in the role of ‘Boy’, in Act II. It’s Andrew’s second excursion under the lights and I’m looking forward to getting to know this remarkable young man better. I call him remarkable because, quite frankly, the shoe fits. In March of 2009 Andrew and Ken made the trip to Queen’s Park to see Andrew receive his Ontario Junior Citizen of the Year Award.  There’s a pic of Andrew and the other winners HERE (he’s the one in the chair beside Lieutenant Governor Onley); the write-up can be found HERE. Having two Camerons around is really going to keep me on my toes.

So that’s where we are in the opening days of 2010, one year after My Great Fall. I’m back in the theatre and working a Shakespear piece for the first time since high school. It’s going to be an interesting spring.

Now there is a lot more going on than just my return to the tech booth at GLT. But we’ll talk about that another day.

Happy New Year!

15 Instead of 55

Steve along The Rideau Canal

Steve along The Rideau Canal

I spent this past weekend in Ottawa visiting with my brother Steven and his family. It was a great time and reminded me once again why I love cycling so much.

Bicycle paths and bike lanes criss-cross the entire Ottawa-Carleton region. It is one of the best places to go cycling in all of Ontario. For me the best trails are the ones along the Ottawa River, partly paved, partly gravel, fully treed, the river on one side, urban forest on the other, dotted with history for much of the journey it is simply a great ride.

We took our bikes downtown on the bus (I like their racks a little better than the ones Guelph has just added) and then rode from the university along the canal, looped around Parliament Hill, and then followed the river back to Steve’s place in Orleans. Along we way we watched boats of all kinds sail up and down the Ottawa River, watched biplanes takeoff and land at the Aviation Museum, checked out the horses that perform in the Musical Ride at the RCMP stables, and enjoyed ice cream and frozen yogurt at Rockcliffe Park.

I was using my nephew Bryan’s mountain bike so it was a little small, and a little slow at times, but it didn’t take long for the joy of the ride to settle in and fade the size of the bike into the background. I can’t really nail it down to one specific thing but there is just something about riding a bike that speaks to the kid in me. After a few clicks the creaks and groans of middle-age fade and the teenager re-emerges. The sun, the wind, the freedom – the only words I’ve found for it are in the title of this post – ” I feel 15 instead of 55.”

And with the summer we’ve had I really needed a dose of 15-yer old exuberance. It took till Labour Day Weekend but Saturday felt so much like summer.  No rain, warm breezes, bright sunshine… I wanted it to go on forever. We rode for over 30 km and only had to deal with car traffic about 10% of the way. The rest of the ride was trails designed and installed specifically for cyclists, skateboarders, inline skaters and pedestrians.  It was a great day that I will remember for a very long time.

But it doesn’t have to be a once a year thing. My brother enjoys this commute 2 ot 3 times a week. He has this privilege because the infrastructure in Ottawa has been fashioned with all the road users in mind.  Other cities could easily do this if they had a mind to.  Some, including Guelph, claim they do. They look to Europe and Copenhagen to find the example they need for infrastructure and cycling culture. But they don’t need to look that far away, it exists right in their own back yard.

Is Ottawa a cycling paradise? Hardly! It suffers from all the same conflicts between drivers and cyclists that exist elsewhere.  In many places the two factions continue to get in each other’s way as driver fail to look for bicycles and cyclists behave like the rules of the road don’t apply to them. But Ottawa has gone a long way to keeping the warring factions apart.  Seperated bike lanes and trails make far more sense than adding bike lanes to the busiest streets in our cities. That is just asking for trouble.

But most of all the Ottawa example dispels the myth propagated in Southern Ontario that Canadian climate makes cycling an impractical solution for environment, infrastructure and a healthier population. No one can claim that Ottawa has mild winters or a short season. It simply takes commitment and patience.

It will take time to make the shift from a car centred culture to one of shared roads and services, but when it does happen then maybe instead of road rage a fewmore of us will spend the commute recapturing a little of our childhood.

Here’s the route we took:  Bikemap Route

My Facebook album of the ride:  Ottawa Album