Max Roytenberg – Jewish Independent

Looking forward, back

Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Kierkegaard Søren Kierkegaard once observed that we begin life by only looking forward, and end by looking back to understand it. The existentialists leave me cold with their nihilism and I find their approaches hard to digest, but I consider Kierkegaard’s comment very much an accurate description of life’s dynamic.

I can remember how my early thoughts were very much about what my future was going to look like. In my mind, all my presents were events that I would have to get through to get to the really important stuff. I knew we had to put up with living with the people we found ourselves tied to by the happenstance of birth. We had to follow the rules we learned from those around us to traverse this period, but our secret focus was on the future, on that time when we would be able to organize our world in a way it would better serve us.

Yes, we had to do what we were told. Yes, we sometimes formed attachments because it was expected, and even convenient. Yes, there were programmed behaviours that had to be followed faithfully. But we knew, didn’t we, that the real stuff would begin when we were in a position to be fully in charge. It sounds bloody-minded now, but those were really my thoughts. All I was living through at the time was just the price of admission, wasn’t it?

And the school years. Were we really going to need all this knowledge we were cramming? Everybody knew that this material was ancient history and that the real world was going to make it all irrelevant. Were any of the teachers people we could respect? I was cleaning out the shelves of the library with the books I was reading. That’s where my education came from, from the stories of real lives that people were leading, that people had led. I was finding my heroes there, and imagining the wonders I would realize when I finally broke free. Until then, I knew to play the game, do the work, pass the exams, collect the admission cards I was going to need. There was the brightly shining future ahead of me. I would accomplish wonders!

Then, there I was. Off on my own. Now I would remake the world. But I was a father, supporting a family. And the “membership cards” I had earned were the only things I had that were going to help pay the bills. I could see then that the stories I told myself and that I read in the library were just fairy tales – the parent who slogged away at work for many years to support us was the model I was going to have to follow. And the parent who took care of my creature comforts was the one who taught me I was valuable and that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. And the family members I took for granted were the only ones in the world who took me at face value, no questions asked.

Could I measure up to the hero I believed I was? Could I leave a mark, or marks, that would have the kind of impact I had always assumed I would realize in my life’s work? I am now looking back and trying to understand. I am looking back to appreciate what I have come to believe are the things that have value, and which may have escaped me when I was so focused on looking forward into the glare of a bright future.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left for the generation I helped usher into the world. When they were able to free themselves from the burden of my stewardship, did they come away with anything that proved useful to them for their lives? I hope so. It was something I didn’t appreciate enough in my growing up.

I am evaluating what I offered, what I left to others, as I was serving to glorify my own image to myself. Am I satisfied that, while I was seeking to realize the potential I believed I had, some of the things I accomplished also helped others? I hope so. That was at the heart of the fairy tales I dreamed for myself when I fantasized about the future all those years ago.

What I now appreciate is how radically the looking-forward person I was has been altered by the living experience. The inexplicable arrogance and self-indulgence of the creature who was cast forward into the world is revealed and, looking back, he has learned to eat and relish humble pie.

Hopefully, we learn how much of what we earn for ourselves in life flows from the generosity of others, in the form of love, attention, time and materials. Hopefully, we learn that, if we are to be happy, we in turn have to be willing to share what we have to offer. Hopefully, we become eager to share, if only to taste the psychic rewards such actions yield.

Nowadays, I spend my time looking back, trying to understand my life more fully. Am I that much different from you?

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Reflections on parenting

So, I’m thinking about the times of our growing up, and who did what in the story of our lives. We never think much about it while it’s happening, during the years when we are coming to our senses. During those times, we are too busy trying to figure out what’s going on.

This process has always fascinated me, wondering what I was thinking. I can’t remember any details about how it was for me. Do you ever wonder how we ended up in the particular places we were, with the people with whom we were packaged? Do you ever wonder how it was that these particular people came to inhabit your life?

Didn’t we just take for granted what was happening all around us as we were growing up, and just went on from there? But, let’s face it, the operation of our lives didn’t just happen. Somebody was out there doing the heavy lifting for us while we just floated along with the tide. It may take us a lifetime to figure that out and to begin to appreciate how generous other people have been, with what may have been meagre resources, in the making of our lives. I remember I resented, for the longest time, never having had any choice about the particular place in which I found myself. I couldn’t wait to get out of that place into one of my own making. Are all of us that arrogant as to our imagined rights at that young age? Did you ever have similar disloyal thoughts?

I think about the roles I had in bringing up my own children. I get the feeling that I sleepwalked through that job, concentrated as I was on making the best of my career opportunities. How much of that was ego and how much of that was an inbred drive, an absorbed imperative to provide for my dependents? I always told myself that they were the ultimate beneficiaries of my misguided priorities. My dependents may have a different view.

How much time did I spend preparing them to cope with the demands of a sometimes hostile world? Did I spend enough time counseling them as to how they might overcome the challenges they were sure to face? Did I do enough beyond providing food, clothing and housing? Was it enough? Did I do a better job than my parents did, as I was convinced I could? Didn’t I have a greater capacity to do that, so that so much more was expected?

I’ve never talked to my kids much about these concerns. Now I am a little hesitant about broaching the subject. I fear the memories they might have would have them judging my behaviour as bordering on neglect. Horrors! Did I do enough of the heavy lifting that was required? Do you people out there ever think about this stuff? Don’t we all console ourselves with the thought that we always did our best under the circumstances? Do we dare ask our kids about that?

If we look at nature, at the way creatures go about raising their young, it is clear that, in most cases, mammals and birds will, like humans, protect and nourish their young during their vulnerable periods, even to the point of surrendering their lives if need be. For wild creatures, the pains they go to, making nests and burrows, hunting and gathering food, seem without limit, commandeered by instinct. And the young learn by following their parents’ example. For humans, that period of vulnerability is so much longer. And what our young have to learn is so much more complex.

I always thought I would do better when my turn came, only to realize on maturity how the many gifts I had been given by my parents would challenge my own capacities to match them with my own brood. We know what a difference parental attendance can make in an offspring’s future.

How many parents stick with a job they hate to put bread on the table? How many parents stay in a relationship they loath to keep a roof over the heads of their young? Most just keep on doing what they have to do, day after day, year after year. That’s heavy lifting!

How many parents abandon places where they know all the rules for the unknown, in the hope of ensuring their children will have a better chance at life? How many jump off into danger in the hope of finding a better life? We are hearing a lot about that these days at the Unites States’ southern border. And at many European borders for the last several years. Didn’t most of us have it a lot easier?

How do we define what we owe ourselves and what we owe to those we are responsible for bringing into this world? How many of those rules come from outside ourselves, absorbed from our parents, from our communities? (What a hierarchy of social imperatives I inherited just by being born Jewish! What was in your birth box?) Or, like other creatures, do we mostly act out of instinct? We see all kinds of behaviours. And we can’t help judging what we see, whatever our own performance has been, with whatever tatters of standards remain to us.

Now, no longer under the gun, and seeing things with a broader perspective, what do we do now? Do we think we have the right to butt in on our offspring with our own views about how things should go? How do you think we would feel if we were in their place? Isn’t it obvious? Do we have the wisdom to wait to be invited to comment? Will that invitation ever come?

For many of us, the heavy lifting is now in other hands.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

How we can live after death

It is the instinct of all living things to try to stay alive, humans among them. Most religious doctrines pay a great deal of attention to this issue. And many people, whether part of an organized religion or not, believe that a spirit leaves the body after death. Where viewpoints vary mainly is what happens then.

In many belief systems, we stay alive in some form or another even after death. Hindus, like Buddhists, believe that a departing spirit is reincarnated into some other life form. Buddhists believe there is no guarantee that the life form will be human; they believe that liberation from the cycle of life is the only desirable objective, a state they call nirvana.

The monotheistic religions all have some concept of an afterlife, with outcomes based on our behaviour during our life on earth. Indeed, both Christianity and Islam see the afterlife as the most desirable state, at least for the righteous, compared with our life on earth, the current one being a “a vale of tears.” Judaism also sees a reward for the righteous, with a resurrection when the Messiah arrives to usher in the “End of Days” and heaven on earth. But Jews, in contrast, are urged to live the fullest possible life while alive, every life being precious.

Without entering into discussions on this issue as to the merits of one position or another, I have drawn some conclusions as to their relevance on the question of staying alive. Empirical evidence from religious enthusiasts is meagre, relying on faith rather than hard facts, or reports of a life, or lives, after death from thousands of years ago. These form the basis for the promise underlying the religious thesis.

The realization of a positive outcome in the religious sphere depends on an unblemished life experience. I cannot count on being among those judged as sufficiently righteous and deserving. That leaves me with the task of doing the best I can to extend the life I know about, the one I am living now. Having past the four-score mark is evidence that I have done some things right, having already survived many of “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” I must have good DNA.

Chance has favoured me in my encounters with accident, disease and body-systems breakdowns. I have survived my encounter with “the big C” up to this time. I have diabetes under apparent control, but one never knows, as it works its damage asymptomatically.

I take pills in abundance to ward off the evils of sugar, high blood pressure and stroke. I quit smoking in my early forties and drink alcohol sparingly. My food habits are not outrageous, without denying myself the favourites that make life worth living. I exercise religiously when not on holiday. I have given up driving on the promise it will increase my life expectancy. Best of all, I pass my life with the woman of my dreams. Life is grand.

The other night, I spent some time with family. We found ourselves talking about our experiences with forbearers who had gone before us. For a short while, it appeared to me almost as if those ancestors were there with us, alive and sharing our good times. Like a lightning bolt, it struck me that that was truly another way of staying alive. The people in our lives who are important to us, those who have marked us in our life experience, they continue to be alive for us as long as they remain in our memories. They never disappear for us as long as we live; they go on being a part of our lives.

So, that’s the secret. We must continue to be important in the lives of the people who surround us. As long as we do that, we will stay alive even after we are physically gone. We have to cherish those we care for while we have them, in part so they will continue to cherish us.

But this does not apply to family only. It is true for all the people in our lives to whom we reach out, to all those we touch and those who touch us. If we want to stay alive, we have to do the reaching out.

Moses and Jeremiah and Isaiah and Jesus can thus be alive for us as well, if they have touched us and touched our lives. Shakespeare and da Vinci are alive for me. Spinoza is alive for me. Danny Kaye and Sid Caesar are alive for me, as is Beethoven.

They are all alive for me because they are a part of who I am. All the people who have made me what I am are alive for me every day of my life. I am surrounded by a crowd. Sometimes, they speak through me. You can’t spend much time with me without getting to meet some of them.

If I write something and it touches another soul, then I may still be alive for them whether I am physically there or not. Even for the people who no longer remember my name, I may still be alive for them in some cranny of their consciousness. That’s not so bad. If we can believe in that, in our own minds we have a future beyond our temporal experience of life.

So, now you know the secret. Go out there and talk to the people around you. Phone them. Write an email. Hug or kiss them if you can get away with it. You may get to live forever if they tell their children about you. If you know what you have done, if you have faith in it, as I do, regardless of your other beliefs, this can be your “promised land.”

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

We do more than lift our feet

The phrase “we lift our feet” comes from a letter, written in Portuguese and Hebrew, sent by Rabbi Moseh HaCoen Mendes, who was living in London, England, in the year 1657. He was writing to Rabbi Manasseh ben Israel, living in Amsterdam. A translation of it appears in Rachel Kadish’s book The Weight of Ink (Mariner Books, 2017).

At the time the letter was written, the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal was still raging but Holland had opened its doors to refugees. Ben Israel traveled to England to try and persuade Oliver Cromwell to allow Jews back into the country, from which they had been expelled in 1290. His argument was that Jews had to be present in every country if the Messiah was to arrive in 1666. While he didn’t manage to open up England to Jewish immigration, Cromwell did permit the 20 Jewish families then living in London in hiding, pretending to be Christians, to live openly as Jews. It proved in the end to be the thin edge of the wedge.

In his letter of consolation to ben Israel, Mendes wrote the following passage: “Our life is a walk in the night, we know not how great the distance to the dawn that awaits us. And the path is strewn with stumbling blocks and our bodies are grown tyrannous with weeping, yet we lift our feet. We lift our feet.” (Both rabbis died shortly afterward, as did Cromwell.)

I was struck by the fatalism of the rabbi. He was expressing a common outlook of religious people in the era – that our lives on earth are lived in a vale of tears, and that our hopes must centre on the beyond. And yet, the Jewish philosophy of life has always been that we must live the life we have here on earth to the fullest. Different from some other views, we deny that our lives should be lived solely in the hope of some future reward.

It is true that, come what may, our role is to “lift our feet” and keep on going. This is a staple of Jewish thinking. We keep on going. We keep on trying. We are the nation of try. If we surrender to the obstacles we face, we are beaten before we start. There is so much around all of us, whatever our background, that can be discouraging, but we can’t allow it to get us down.

Persistence in the pursuit of the goals we seek is a hallmark of Jewish life, and of successful people of every persuasion. We are not easily deterred. Our parents, like many others of immigrant origins, worked their whole lives to try and ensure that their children would get an education and a better start in their lives than was the case for them. Many Jews have gravitated to the research fields, where years of effort are required to achieve results.

Many large enterprises that mark the commercial landscape were once small businesses initiated by Jewish entrepreneurs. From banking, to groceries, from the shmatte (rag) business, to high fashion, it is difficult to find an area of economic activity where Jews have not shown their hand. Remember Bugsy Siegel and Murder Inc.?

Our seeming job in this life is to keep on keeping on. But many of us continue to search for a rationale for human existence. We know that the struggle for survival is in the nature of all living things. That is nature’s imperative. As thinking humans, though, many of us seek other reasons for our being, explanations beyond mere survival. We do not know how long our trip will be before we see the “dawn,” but, in the meantime, many of us are not satisfied that just reproducing ourselves is enough to justify the existence of the universe we are experiencing.

For Jews, the business of survival over the years has been an interminable task accompanied by incalculable losses. But, though few in number, we have survived and, where we have had the tools of defence, we have prevailed. Our religious say we are here to celebrate the glory of G-d, in whose image we have been created. Oh yes, and we are also supposed to provide a model so that all peoples will come to recognize His Oneness and supremacy. It has been a painful task, and not many of us are ready to own up to that particular role.

In these days, when religious speculation about life’s purposes is far from the central issue of our time, it is still important in the lives of millions of people. Even for those of us who are not among them, many of us would like to believe there is some purpose in our lives beyond mere existence.

Many people devote a good part of their thinking and their actions to improving the lives of others beyond their immediate circle, and they draw some sustenance and psychic reward from those efforts. Some people believe that certain issues are more important than even their own lives and, indeed, they stand ready to lay down their lives, if need be, in defence of these ideas.

Helping others and a willingness to die for our beliefs both point to things that we value beyond mere existence. Yes, we go on “lifting our feet,” but with principles that guide us until we reach the “dawn.”

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Can only live in the now

It’s sunny today as I write this, and there is a lovely breeze fluttering the leaves on a tree outside my window. I am reacquainting myself with myself, pleasuring in the solitude. Writing this story for you (and myself) is a minor distraction.

Knowing ourselves can be scary, but we can get over that. We are not so bad after all. Look at all those good things we have done (rah! rah!) despite the weaknesses we know we have, and how they compare to the aspirations we have had for ourselves. It doesn’t mean we don’t have to try to be better, to achieve more, but facing our failings can make us be kinder to others.

My bride feels that I am amazing in my capacity to forgive myself for my errors and weaknesses. But I know, and I have told her, that she, and most people, are too hard on themselves. I believe it has something to do with the constructs we build up in our minds as to what we believe is success, the goals we set. Then, given the unpredictability of life, we are disappointed when we don’t realize all of them.

But these things we dream of are not real. They are something way out in a potential future. Only the now is real, only the now is what we can change. Often, when we get to the anticipated future, we no longer want what we aspired to. We have changed our mind as a consequence of our life experiences. Our pleasures may really arise from the incidentals we realize on our path, what we encounter in our nows. They may turn out to be what we treasure above all.

So, I forgive my errors as lessons learned, and aim for my goals as a spectrum rather than a single point. And I forgive my blunders as an excess of enthusiasm. I know my enthusiasms can be fierce, as I believe that we really have to want what we want to have some chance of getting there.

We all know that people are watching what we do. A lot of what we think about ourselves is motivated by what we believe other people think about us. And we worry about that at times. It can seriously affect our behaviour. As I have gotten older, however, I find that I am not so much worried about that. The person I am more concerned about is me – that’s the guy I have to come to terms with.

We cannot fail to develop in ourselves, unless we are sociopaths, some ideas about what are the right things to do in life. We absorb it from our parents, what we read or see, what our friends have said or done, and the “inner us” watches and measures everything we do, and passes judgment.

We know when we have violated what our inner judge has said is the right action. Nonetheless, we sometimes, thinking or unthinking, follow our own selfish self-interest. But, often, we are motivated to act in opposition to our short-term interests and according to the larger values we have absorbed.

When we do the wrong thing it stays with us. Our judge is difficult to escape. He or she is there every time we encounter ourselves in our thoughts. We have many ways to distract ourselves from what it is telling us, and that escape may tempt us powerfully, but we cannot know ourselves if we are not in touch, fully acquainted, with that inner self. We cannot be at peace if we are not in harmony with that inner self or judge.

We all know people who publicly espouse the public good and privately pursue the private good. We see examples of that every day on our television and internet screens, our newspapers and magazines, our trips to the grocery store or the community centre. Could we live with ourselves if we were that kind of person? Does it take self-delusion?

Most of us aspire to being the kind of people our children could respect, and we have taught them the lessons we believed would help them on their way. We all have had our aspirations to achieve positions and places, situations in life that we feel are appropriate for the kind of people we truly are. Hopefully, we are happy with the portion that we have earned and been given (as no one makes it on their own, or without some luck).

It is only in our solitudes that we truly confront the people we are, without pretension. Some people are able to be more like their real selves in public, but most of us present to others the person they believe others want or expect to see in us. How fortunate we are if we have those in our circle with whom we feel free to be the person we really are.

Deep in our heart of hearts, we know of all the compromises we have made with the principles we truly believe in. They weigh on us. We have corrected where we could along the way. For what remains undone, which cannot be fixed, we have to find in ourselves the generosity to forgive ourselves, and others.

This moment is the “there” we have arrived at, even if it is the life we did not necessarily aim for. This incidental is the real thing. We are really alive only in the now in which we find ourselves.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Make the effort to celebrate

Some people hate birthdays. They don’t want to hear about them. They refuse to tell you their age, or even discuss such matters. What’s that about? Other people are different about such things. I am one of those.

When we were kids, birthdays were all about celebrations. There was the cake, the gaudier the better. And the presents! Didn’t we look forward to all that? There was all the fuss about getting friends to attend. And even hard feelings if someone you thought was a friend didn’t attend. Parents got into it and it could get all political. The “keeping up with the Joneses” adage raised its ugly head and your party had to be as spectacular as those of your friends. I remember once we had a small pony to ride at a birthday. Some kids had a clown come to entertain the kids at their party. When we were teens, they were just an excuse for a dance, with all the to-ing and fro-ing between girls and boys. And getting money from the relatives so we could add to the bank account for college was a very serious business.

In our parenting years, it was more about the kids. Birthdays, if they were marked at all, were something quiet between parental partners. At least, that’s the way it was for me. There had to be a special something between the partners for fuss to be made on birthday occasions. Many years of our lives went by with no conscious notice taken to the passage of time. All of a sudden we were at 20-year anniversaries. Pity! There is a lot to be said for marking occasions with some ceremony. There were a lot of occasions we missed that should have been celebrated. Too bad about that as I look back. Maybe things were better for you.

I find things are so much different for me these days. I try to linger consciously on the special events, the birthdays and other milestones as well. Like when we do yoga, we really concentrate on feeling the now, our presence in the instant. Birthdays are great moments for that. I track the dates and give advance notice to those who may have the faintest of interest, sending out blindcopied email messages to all and sundry alerting them to the occasion, so they can jump on the computer, the telephone, or any other communication vehicle. They can pretend that they have known about the matter all along, so the object of the interest will feel really appreciated. It helps draw all of us closer together, reinvigorating our ties.

If we can be present for a birthday, that takes the cake. Thinking of my own experience as the one being fêted, don’t we all feel good when somebody makes a fuss over us, doing something that we wouldn’t think of doing for ourselves? After all, we usually think of others. We would feel too self-absorbed, even conceited, to make a fuss about ourselves. It’s so much nicer when somebody else goes to the trouble of doing it. Doesn’t that make us feel great! It does me.

And, know a secret? I’m no longer shy about that stuff. I am totally obnoxious. I had a birthday when I was 75 and invited everybody I could think of, especially those I really wanted to see. And I made them travel, hundreds, even thousands, of miles to attend. Of course, I insisted I wanted no other present than their presence. (And I graciously accepted gifts from those who ignored my request.) All the cards and letters I received were great. And one of my daughters assembled a book of my poems, with pictures and comments, that is among my treasures today.

I held my 75th in my old hometown, thousands of miles from where I lived. I went to a place where they had a chocolate fountain for the kids. It was wonderful to see all those chocolatey faces. And my son-in-law stepped in and picked up the tab. Wow! What a gift! Yes, I remember, and am grateful. I would have been very happy to pick up the bill just the same, but it makes one feel so appreciated. It was an orgy of self-satisfaction. Aren’t I a brat! I know that. My Bride reminds me I am all the time.

I did the same thing for my 80th in Dublin, where my Bride and I were living at the time. I knew then that we would be leaving to come back to Canada, so it was a great occasion to invite a few thousand of my favourite people to say goodbye. A couple of my kids even came across the big water to be there. It was another indulgence to my ego and I enjoyed it thoroughly. We only live once, right? We have to celebrate survival. We may not be around too much longer to do it.

So, I believe in indulging in all the things now that I never gave a thought to during the years I was slugging it out, making my way through life. Many of us are too busy during those years putting one foot in front of the other. When younger, we did things the quickest way, the most economical way. We shrugged off the sentimentality we might have felt, that might weaken our resolve to forge ahead. In doing so, we surrendered a lot of what might have been very good times, but we remember the few times we weakened, now some of the best of our memories.

These days, I make a great fuss about every birthday – even when it’s not mine!

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Some thoughts on happiness

How are you feeling today? Any aches and pains you wish would go away? Maybe a good night’s sleep will do the job because your health is basically in good shape. Or not. Are you and your partner getting along? Maybe you wish you had a partner or are sad about the one you lost? Is there love and affection in your life?

Are your efforts allowing you to make ends meet and to set a generous table in a place you are happy to be in? Do you have interesting things to do in your life that are making you feel fulfilled? And the kids, if you have any, are they well, and turning out how you had hoped? Are there things happening in the world that are so distressing they are making you unhappy? Is there anything you can do about it?

I am not looking for raging joy and ecstasy. We might look for moments like that sometimes in our lives. But that is unsustainable and we would burn out. It’s not the drug high we are looking for, it’s the quiet sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. It’s a feeling of well-being and comfort in your own skin and “all’s well with my world.”

There are so many things in life that can go wrong; it’s a miracle we ever have a happy moment. Something like the bodies we inhabit, we inhabit such a complex environment. There is the great potential for one of many of the things we face to go wrong. Or, for things to come out very differently from the way we might like things to work out. Fortunately, so many of the important things about our bodies are on automatic and are mostly made to last a lifetime. The lives we get to live are not like that. A lot of it depends on chance but a lot of it also depends on what we make of it.

I am well into my 80s, alive and in relatively good health. Retired, I have time to think about these things while many of you are out there sweating the 9-to-5. Without getting into too much detail, in my life I have worked hard and accomplished satisfying things that have benefited others as well as myself. I can conclude that life has treated me kindly. I have washed up on a friendly beach, and now the living is easy. Because I know I have earned my way, I don’t have to feel guilty about my good fortune, and I am grateful for what help I received along the way. I hope those of you out there at my age and stage feel the same way.

I can contrast that with the life my father lived. His father left the family when he was a child, coming to Canada to make his fortune. (My grandfather made his living in Canada with a horse and cart, collecting junk that he could sell to dealers.) My father’s mother died of typhoid, in Russia, and my father and his brother were shuttled around to relatives. His father, already in Canada, finally sent money for him and his younger brother to join him. My father never received any formal education.

When he arrived from Danzig to England, they found that my father had pink eye and the authorities took him off the boat. They were going to send him back to where he came from. Somehow, though, he evaded them (still a teenager) and he spent two years hiding out in London before he was able to come to Canada. I don’t know what he did when he arrived in this country, but, in the years I was growing up (I was born in 1934), he never seemed to have a steady job.

His big break came when the Second World War started and all the young men were called up as soldiers. My dad was hired to shovel coal into a furnace, the heat being used for drying eggs to be shipped to England. Because the engineers were drafted too, soon he was asked to study for papers that would allow him to replace the engineers. How did they know he could do it?

All my school years, my father was studying his books at the kitchen table. When I tried reading his stuff, it made my head spin. He became a full-fledged stationary engineer by the time the war was over. All three of us kids in my family got secondary educations. My father died at 67, still on that job. He was a happy man, I think. Compared to him, I had it easy.

So, what does it take to be happy? Isn’t it about having the right answers to some of the questions I asked when we got started? It sure helps if your health is good. It sure helps if the kids you had turn out healthy and self-sufficient. It sure helps if you have had someone in your life to love, and if someone has loved you. It sure helps if you have, or have had, fulfilling work. It sure helps if you know that you have done things that have benefited others as well as yourself. It sure helps if you have earned the means to meet your needs.

You don’t have to have them all. Just having some of these things, and the proper attitude, and you get to catch the brass ring. Having a sense of gratitude for the things you do have helps a lot, too. Be happy.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

Learning throughout our life

Isn’t life wonderful? It has such potential to deliver joy, beauty, poetry and music for every one of us. More’s the pity that so many of us get only a small fraction of that potential for our portion. Still, gratitude must be the order of the day because things could always be worse.

If we take the time to examine the simple pleasures that most of us benefit from, we should be able to swallow some of the less digestible bits with a little more grace. Nature is nearly everyone’s inheritance – sun, moon, sky and stars, the green around, with maybe a spot of colour. We breathe in and out, taste the sweet along with the sour, and sometimes hear a birdsong. And perhaps, from time to time, if we are fortunate, our lot allows us a warm embrace.

We start out as strangers in a world we know absolutely nothing about. We start out with only sensations: warmth, cold, discomfort, pain, or their absence, and hunger pangs. Our first lesson is the instinct to cry out in reaction to what we find uncomfortable. We soon learn whether our instinctive appeals for help are likely to be answered quickly or with an incomprehensible delay. Scientists tell us that this knowledge might play an important part in determining what sort of creature we will become in later life. (See, for example, “The Role of Parents in Early Childhood Learning” by Susan H. Landry, Children’s Learning Institute, University of Texas Health Science Centre, which was published online in 2008.)

Totally dependent on others, humans, like other mammals and many species, begin their lives in a precarious situation. We all know from our own learning that survival rates have markedly improved with living standards and advancing technology. An exploding world population provides solid evidence for that. So has the chance that the psyches present in adulthood will be healthier. By no means can it yet be said that such is a foregone conclusion.

We accept that our early years on this planet are the period when we consciously concentrate on amassing the information and knowledge that we need to negotiate our passage through life. In earlier times, that formal period of education, now increasingly financed in one way or another by the state, was much shorter than it has now become.

In the end, we often learn much more on the job, after formal education has ended, about what we must know to do our work. Life has become increasingly complicated though and even this learning will not suffice always, as the very nature of work is altered daily. Jobs disappear, never to return, and new skills become imperative.

I was born during the Great Depression. For a good number of years, my father never had a job. I don’t believe he ever had a formal education, arriving in Canada as a young man. Yet, hired as a labourer to feed coal into a boiler furnace, through self-study, he rose to be an engineer solely responsible for a vast industrial complex. He had some book-learning to get his papers, but mostly he learned his stuff from doing his work.

My degrees were in agriculture, but the only planting I ever did was in my home flower garden. I had four jobs in my career, but only one, the first, had any direct relationship with agriculture. Essentially, I became a manager and I never learned anything about doing that kind of work at school. If I learned anything at all during those years, it was certainly by doing things I had to do on the job.

So what is management? It has to do with trying to get thing done through other people. I know there are courses that try to give a head start on learning that, but I never had the good fortune to take any of them. I can’t say I was a good manager, but I certainly learned a lot about what not to do. And I am content that I learned enough to get all my work done well.

The truth is that learning on the job applies to almost everything we challenge ourselves to try and accomplish in life. This applies to parenting and partnering like everything else. This is not news to any of you out there.

What makes our current situation so much more challenging is the rapid rate of change we face in our lives. How can we give advice to our young when they know more about what is happening in our current reality than we can possibly keep up with?

Parenting may be one the most perplexing learning-on-the-job challenges we will face in our lives. And I don’t envy this generation of parents, who find their children more adept at the latest devices in every home than they ever will be. They will have to concentrate on the management skills they will have to pick up to deal with children who know more about important things in the world than they do.

From working to getting along with our partners to parenting and more, it fascinates me how much we have to learn on a continuing basis, throughout our lives.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.

The miracle that is our body

What do we really know about the marvelous vessel we are fortunate enough to inhabit? Don’t we mostly just take it for granted? We were popped into the world without our say so, but, in return, we inherited millions of years of human evolution in the bodies we have been bequeathed.

You will be enlightened to learn that our bodies are so filled with energy that we emit light, although our eyes are too weak to detect it. Information speeds along our nerves at 400,000 miles per hour, our brains hosting 100,000 chemical reactions per second. Blood corpuscles run through our bodies, covering 20,000 kilometres daily. We breathe 20,000 times a day to provide them with the oxygen our bodies need to function.

Our noses can differentiate three trillion different scents, and our eyes millions of different colours. Our skin has 100 pain sensors per square centimetre. Our stomachs are producing more new cells faster than those that are being destroyed by the acids of digestion. We produce one litre of saliva a day to keep things juicy. Operating all this is the work of our brains, which are actually more active when we are asleep than when we are awake.

Did we luck out or what? The most amazing thing is that, most of the time, the apparatus keeps on working for a lifetime with few or no problems. Our hearts beat away three billion times during our lives, we consume 35 tons of food on average and shed two to four kilograms of skin every year.

Women will be interested to know that their tongues are blessed with more taste buds than their male counterparts. They may be less happy to learn that we have 67 different types of bacteria in our bellybuttons and more bacteria in our mouths than the number of people on this planet.

With all of this going on in our bodies automatically, what are we in charge of? Where do we come in? Where does individual will come from? What is it that makes us the particular person we are? When do we get to be the person we think we are?

That may be where DNA comes in. That is the stuff our parents gave us, half the package from each of them. Out of the incredible hodge-podge that each of them got from their parents – millions, maybe billions, of different potentialities – chance determined the particular combination of traits we received from them. What we got influenced not just our physical heritage, but our mental and emotional elements are inherited, as well. After that, given some reasonable nurturing (something a lot of kids don’t get), each of us is on our own to make what we can of what we got.

We have five main chemicals in the brain, most of them variations of the feel-good type. We tend to pursue activities and things that make us feel good and that stimulate the flow of those chemicals in our brains.

We work because we enjoy the work, or because we enjoy having the money we will earn from that work. We pursue the company and attentions of those who make us feel good, sometimes becoming addicted (falling in love?) and desiring a permanent attachment. We strive because achieving the object of our effort will give us pleasure, be it knowledge, respect, money, power, fame, or all of them.

The vigour with which we pursue these things may arise from our DNA or from the kind of nurturing we experienced in our growing up, or both. Studies have shown that, in identical twins separated at birth, genetics accounted for 50% to 70% of outcomes and behaviours. There is little doubt that DNA programming is important, but behavioural differences between individuals can lead to different outcomes.

For some of us, all this may have relevance only to the degree it illuminates the course our own life is taking or has taken. Do we feel we got a fair shake in the lottery that landed us in the birth basket we arrived in? Did the environment we arrived in, the legacy our DNA bestowed on us, give us a fair chance to grab the golden ring(s) that satisfied our aspirations or desires? Did our grit and determination permit us to overcome the obstacles we faced in life so that we are more satisfied with where we are compared to where we started from? Are we happy?

Our lives are the body of proof.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers. The term “body of proof,” used in this article, is taken from the name of a television drama about a medical examiner that ran on ABC from 2011 to 2013.

The miracle that is the mind

So, what’s going on inside your head? Pretty important stuff, actually, because that’s where all of us are happening.

The facts are almost unbelievable, 100 billion neurons, each connected to 10,000 other neurons, processing one trillion bits per second. There are 100 trillion synaptic connections. A synapse is just that, a connection. For comparative purposes, a home computer with a 4 GHz processor does only four billion clock cycles per second. Remember that a trillion is a million times a million.

We have almost unlimited storage space, but our short-term memory is much more limited, capable of holding only five to nine pieces of information at any one instant. We continue to learn, reshaping parts of our brains with new pathways, benefiting from the body’s redundancies. What we know is that practice does make (almost) perfect, and that our body parts can take on a life of their own. Those pathways fade if we don’t use them.

Fortunately for us, our brains have some ability to repair themselves, completely up to the age of 5 and, to a degree, during our lives, through the growth of new neurons that can take over some of the functions of damaged parts. As babies, we have the same number of neurons we do as adults, but the size of our brains triples in our first year. Brain development continues until about the age of 25.

Most of us don’t realize that our brains, making up about two percent of our weight, use 20% of our energy and are 73% water. Dehydration can affect function. Sweating for 60 minutes shrinks the brain as much as one year of aging, so be sure to drink up!

Our brains are where we find the human capacity for self-awareness (located in the prefrontal cortex), what it is that differentiates us from other animals. While chimps and dolphins also show signs of self-awareness, their brains are entirely different.

What about our feelings? There are all sorts of chemicals sloshing around inside our heads. From here on in, it gets incredibly complicated, and, so, this lecture is over. What’s really on my mind is what happens as a consequence: our exquisite sensitivity to colour, taste, smell, facial expression, emotion, music, beauty, and so much more. What is in our brains, what is on our minds, is the essence of being human.

For example, imagine what is going on in a composer’s head when writing a symphony, the harmonies to be worked out between 10, 12 or more different instruments. Can you imagine how the mind of a musician is working when their fingers are flying so fast you can hardly see them? How about the conductor, who has the whole score in their consciousness as the orchestra players are led through a piece?

Each of us has a brain box where incredible things are happening during the ordinary course of lives. Just running the machine we call our body is the product of eons of evolution and development. All of what we are is centred in our minds. We are only beginning to understand parts of it, but we have a long way to go. The explosive expansion of computing power we are witnessing is helping us roll back the mysteries behind our functioning. But the mind and its workings, repairing things when they go wrong, remain among our greatest challenges. What is marvelous is how many things go right most of the time.

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.