In the Beginning.

To truly understand this new dad’s perspective on parenthood, it’s necessary to go back almost a year. You need to understand how my wife and I went from planning for a child to being the proud parents of a beautiful baby girl.

The first time I was awakened at 3 a.m. by the beeping of a thermometer was a clear sign that life was about to get very different for my wife and me. Bleary eyed, I looked over and gave my wife a quizzical look. “I’m charting,” she said. I groaned and drifted back to sleep.

Like most men, the idea of conceiving a child was exciting – who doesn’t get excited about the idea of sex. Foolish me, I thought it was that simple. That was until my wife began reading every book, magazine and Internet article on conception. Soon my wife was punctuating my days with all sorts of facts on just how difficult it is to get pregnant – thus the charting exercise.

Fortunately for us, we apparently managed to defy all odds and within a month my wife was pregnant. Hooray! No more daily facts on the fine and delicate art of insemination. No more charting. All we had to do now was get through the next nine months and, presto, we would have a child. Yes, I can hear all the parents, especially the moms, out there laughing at my naivety.

In all seriousness, the first three months of my wife’s pregnancy were fraught with angst and anxiety. I won’t go into the details, but our OB/GYN told us that he had some serious concerns and my wife was put on bed rest for six weeks. It was only after my wife was in her second trimester that the doctor told us he hadn’t expected the fetus to make it that far.

Speed up the clock to the due date, go time. Due date comes and goes with no baby. The next day it’s the same thing. Wash, rinse and repeat for two more weeks.

By this time, my wife is freaking out. Her daily mantra has become, “When is this baby going to come out?” My daily reaction: roll eyes, groan inwardly and bite tongue. Wash, rinse and repeat.

Mothers, I can hear you screaming at me, and I’m sure your words are none to kind. Before you start gathering up the pitchforks and torches, understand that my outward reaction and my inward reaction were completely opposite. During my wife’s pregnancy, while inwardly I was going crazy, outwardly I was doing everything I could to make sure my wife was as comfortable as possible. I digress.

Suddenly, the big day finally arrived! Actually, the big day took two days full of labour pains to finally arrive. But when it did and our baby girl came into this world, wow! I like to think of myself as a manly man. I eat red meat. I use power tools. I sometimes grunt to communicate. That veneer washed away in a sea of joyful tears the very moment I set eyes on my daughter.

It didn’t take long for me to recover my emotions and start thinking of the new reality I was facing. Dear Lord, I have a daughter. One day she’ll be a teenager. One day she’ll be dating. One day she might date a guy like me. Time to start stockpiling the guns and ammunition.

Photo Credit:

From Parenting Advice for New Mom and Dad

Guest Author Bio

Glen Plummer
Glen Plummer is an extraordinary civil servant for the Province of British Columbia. But, more than that he is devoted husband to our Guest Author Lara Perzoff and shell-shocked father to the lovely 7-month old Hannah. Glen is not fazed by much, is the person you want at your side when you’ve had terrible customer service and need to give someone a piece of your mind and he has the muscular physique of a stoic warrior. But, Hannah at 17lbs soaking wet reduces him to a puddle of mush. When he’s not working or hanging with his family, he can be found in only good coffee shops or in his kitchen cooking up something marvellous.

Parenthood: A New Dad’s Perspective is a post from: Life As A Human

It had been a long, tiring flight on Egypt Air, from New York to Cairo, but my fatigue melted away as I entered my Nile-view room at the Ramses Hilton. The evening haze glowed orange, incandescent from the setting Egyptian sun, which reflected in the waters of the Nile. In the distance were the silhouettes of the Great Pyramids of Cheops, Chefren and Mycerinus. It was mind boggling to think that this view had been awing new visitors to Egypt for almost five thousand years.

I wandered downstairs into the hotel’s lobby, passing a lounge where business suited Egyptians sipped Turkish coffee, smoking pungent “sheeshas” or water pipes and listened to the keening strains of traditional Middle Eastern music. After a traditional Egyptian dinner topped off by Turkish coffee and delicious pastries I said “dispah ala kheer” (good night) to my waiter and retired early in preparation for my first day’s sight seeing. EMECO Travel had arranged for me to have my own personal guide, driver and car optimizing my travel experience and day one found me at the site of the Great Pyramids. Riding a camel to the 4700-year-old edifices I dismounted and proceeded to explore the interior of the Pyramid of Mycerinus, making my way down the cramped corridor to the chambers in the heart of the edifice. They were bare, long ago emptied of their riches by the tomb robbers in ancient times. Exiting the mausoleum I walked around the larger pyramids of Cheops and Chefren, visiting the building housing the 4700 year Solar Boat found buried nearby and still looking sea worthy millennia later, though it was intended to cruise not the ocean but the sky as transport for the departed pharaoh. That evening I returned and watched an incredible sound and light show describing the history of the plains of Giza and narrated appropriately enough by the sphinx.

The Egyptian Museum in Cairo is a must see for all visitors. It contains such a wealth of artifacts that some say they basement will have to be re-excavated one day to find many of them. Of particular note are the treasures of King Tutankhamen. His solid gold burial mask immortalizes the youthful face of the pharaoh who died in his late teens, and was quite unknown until Howard Carter found his untouched tomb in 1922. An apparently well-documented series of events followed the opening of the crypt, including the devouring of Carter’s “lucky” canary by a cobra the night of the find. The cobra is the royal insignia of Lower Egypt. Lord Carnarvon, Carter’s patron, died shortly after from an infected mosquito bite at which point the lights in Cairo mysteriously went out for 12 hours, and the Lord’s favorite dog back in England let out a howl and keeled over dead. Supposedly quite a few others who entered the tomb died of unusual illnesses, though Carter, the main culprit if Tut was looking for retribution, went unscathed (if we discount the loss of his canary). Other treasures include Tut’s solid gold coffin, much meticulously crafted jewelry and a throne which has a remarkable relief of Tut with his wife Ankhesenamen.

A visit to Cairo is not complete without a trip to The Citadel. This was the former headquarters of Saladin, the remarkable ruler who routed the Crusaders from the Holy Land in the latter part of the 12th century. The Citadel also provides a remarkable view of Old Cairo where a sea of minarets ensures none of the pious will miss the muezzin’s call to prayer. The 19th century mosque of Muhammad Ali (not the boxer, but the Albanian who took power after Napoleon’s troops vacated Egypt) provided a quiet refuge where my guide, Rania, explained some of the philosophy of the Islamic religion. In those grandiose surroundings I confess she almost made a convert of me. Later we visited Coptic Cairo. Ten percent of Egypt’s population are Christians who were converted during the time of the Roman Empire and these are the true descendants of the ancient Egyptians. The only modern use of the ancient pharaonic language is during their religious ceremonies. At St. Sergius church tradition holds that the Holy Family hid out in a crypt in the basement during their flight to Egypt. Unfortunately the crypt is flooded by the rising ground water which plagues modern Egypt. Much of Coptic Cairo is under reconstruction at present, which disturbs the traditional peacefulness of the district. Also worth a visit is the Ben Ezra Synagogue with a shrine that traditionally marks the spot where Moses was found in the bulrushes.

The Khan el Khalili bazaar is a paradise for shoppers, but a must see for everyone. The winding streets, exotic goods and galabiyya-clad peddlers make the district look like a scene from the Arabian nights. Best buys include gold, silver and colorful hand blown perfume bottles. Make sure the precious metals are stamped and that the glassware will be appropriately wrapped after purchase. Be prepared to bargain hard as the goods are marked way up for tourists. On my departure I found most of the things I purchased were cheaper at the airport gift shop!

The next leg of my trip was a flight to the city of Luxor in southern Egypt (also known as Upper Egypt because it is upriver, as opposed to Lower Egypt, which is north and down river). Here I boarded a cruise boat, The Nile Plaza, my home for the next four days. Cruising is the best way to see this part of the country and provides a leisurely way to observe rural life along the Nile. Luxor (from Arabic El Uqsor, “the palaces”), called Thebes in ancient times, was capital of Egypt for over one thousand years and repository of some of its most fantastic archeological treasures. The temple at Karnak is one of the largest temple complexes in the world, covering about sixty acres. The famous hypostyle hall contains almost two hundred monstrous columns, topped by lotus and papyrus motifs. Try to find a spot where there are no other visitors, close your eyes and imagine the sound of the sacred procession leading the statue of the god, Amun-Ra out of the sanctuary during the Opet Festival. The smaller temple at Luxor also has many fine reliefs and an evening visit to the flood lit structure worthwhile.

Overnighting on board The Nile Plaza, we had an early visit to the Valley of the Kings in the desert on the western bank of the Nile. We managed to visit four tombs including that of King Tut. It was actually one of the less impressive dwellings in the necropolis with reliefs found only in the actual burial chamber. The pharaoh’s mummy is still on site in its huge red stone sarcophagus. More impressive was the tomb Thutmosis III, one of the greatest of Egypt’s New Kingdom pharaoh’s. Despite the inaccessible site a good hundred feet up the side of the cliff, it was also robbed in antiquity. Interestingly the tombs were rarely finished. Usually as soon as the pharaoh died work was stopped, so many walls are unfinished, or partly finished with only the overseers’ sketches present. Also, despite the fact that one expects the tombs to be gloomy, the neon bright colors actually are quite cheerful, at least in the glare of electric lights. By the way, bring a flashlight, as the guards have been known to turn out the lights in the tombs and demand a little “baksheesh” to turn them back on.

While in the necropolis it is worth seeing the funerary temple to Hatshepsut, a woman who ruled Egypt for years as pharaoh, even having herself depicted wearing a beard. The building is surprisingly modern looking despite being over three thousand years old. Most of her inscriptions were scraped off by her irate nephew, Thutmosis III whose power she had usurped.

Further upriver we visited the well-preserved temples of Horus at Edfu, and the Temple of Sobek and Haroeris in Komombo built in Greco-Roman times. Our cruise terminated in the town of Aswan in Nubia, where the fabulously preserved Temple of Philae rests on a lush island in Lake Aswan. Almost completely intact, it was built by the Greek Ptolemaic rulers of Egypt, who took power after Alexander the Great’s conquest (and included Cleopatra, who was actually Greek, not Egyptian). Later additions were constructed Roman emperors as late as the 2nd century AD. This temple was the site of active worship of the Egyptian mother goddess Isis until the sixth century AD. Unfortunately most of the reliefs of the lithe, unclothed goddess were defaced by prudish Coptic Christians who occupied the temple after its closure

After visiting Philae we took a ride on a traditional felucca, the single masted lateen rigged vessel, which has cruised the Nile for millennia. Sailing on Lake Aswan we glided past the fabled Elephantine Isle, with its thick cloak of palm trees and foliage, and scattered ancient ruins. In contrast to the west the yellow sands of the Sahara reach right to the shore. Myriad other brightly colored boats plied the waters of the lake. Our Nubian helmsman grinned toothily, his burnoose streaming in the breeze and as he tacked our vessel towards shore. I turned to one of my fellow passengers, a producer for the Discovery Channel. “Sandy”, I said, “There may be more exotic things we could be doing right now, but for the life of me I can’t think of any”. She smiled and nodded.

The cruise terminated in Aswan and for the final leg of my trip I flew to Abu Simbel, deep in the heart of Nubia and only a few miles north of the Sudanese border. Here lies the great temple of Abu Simbel rescued from the rising waters of Lake Aswan by a joint international effort after the High Dam was built. Carved in solid rock in the 13th century BC, the edifice is faced with four massive colossi of Ramses II, each almost seventy feet high. It is said that in ancient times marauders from the south bent on plundering Egypt would take one look at the brooding countenance of these colossi and would flee terror stricken. I believe it.

My trip to Egypt had been brief, but incredibly packed with history and new and exotic experiences. For those with limited amounts of time a well-organized tour can eliminate hassles and free up time to do more enjoyable things.

Photo Credits

Camel Back Photo By George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Tomb Entrance – Public Domain

Giza View From Plan – Creative Commons

First Published In The Medical Post, March 6, 2001

 For More Information, visit Emco Travel

A Land Fit For Kings is a post from: Life As A Human

There are those that believe a horse is a horse of course. I beg to differ, as what I learned and what I lost have proven that things are not always as they appear.

I have always thought that angels come to earth in many forms. In this case, one arrived in the form of a miraculous horse named Lumis (pronounced Loomis). This was a special angel and he really should have been in the body of a Clydesdale horse to accommodate the size of his soul and his heart. But here he was, neatly packed into a compact and sturdy little equine.

Lumis arrived to us as a boarder for our little barn, and over the next several years he became my counselor, my friend and my biggest concern. I don’t know why I worried about him so much but there was something about that little guy that drew me to look after him like an over-protective hen.Why that was became painfully clear in time.

When I was sad or not feeling well, it was the middle stall in the barn where I found myself seeking comfort. He would rest his head on my shoulder, I would lean my ear against his warm, solid neck and we would stand together in thoughtful silence. He was like a sponge. He absorbed my sadness and that feeling of un-wellness would be gone almost instantly. For me, it was an over-the-counter prescription that worked in minutes.

Lumis was also known for his sense of humour and outrageous social skills. He loved visitors and was a source of amusement for people with his habit of relaxing with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. He liked being invited into our workshop and would often knock his foot gently on the door to get attention. Being IN the shop was not the greatest idea as the painted floor did not mix well with polished iron shoes. I envisioned a scene from Looney Tunes with said horse splayed in four directions while destroying all contents in the shop as he tried to get his legs gathered under him. However, Lumis was a steady, thoughtful steed and he always managed to back out the same way he came in without turning himself into a floor polisher.

He was also a friend to other animals. Dusty, our 17 year old, almost blind, cat was his best friend. I would often find her in the barn, lying and purring happily between his front legs. His head would hang down just touching the top of hers and the two of them would look very content. When I first discovered this, my heart leapt to my throat, sure there would be a nasty flattening of cat. However they both protested loudly when I tried to snatch her away to safety. He was extremely gentle and always kept an eye on where she was. When Lumis moved away from our barn, Dusty mourned sadly outside his stall for days.

 I made it a habit to treat him to a specially made molasses horse cookie every night at bedtime. He was uncharacteristically frantic in his need to have that cookie and waited very impatiently for the evening chores to be done so that anticipated moment in his day would finally come – cookie time. He savoured that cookie like a connoisseur savours a $300 dollar bottle of fine wine. The look of ecstasy followed by a tiny bit of embarrassing drool and then a thorough licking of my barn jacket was Lumis’ way of thanking me for yet another wonderful daily experience.

A gentle, loving soul adopted Lumis a few months ago and when I went to visit him at Christmas, he was surrounded by other horse friends and he seemed very happy. I brought an entire molasses cake so he could share with his barn-mates. I wish now that I had spent more time with Lumis on that visit. Less than a month later, he had a very sad and unfortunate accident and he left this world, leaving a huge void in everyone’s hearts.

Lumis’ new owner was in shock and devastated at losing this loving companion and her decision was to honour him in death as he honoured us in life – with love and a proper send-off. On a cool Saturday afternoon, Lumis was laid to rest in a sunny corner of the paddock, surrounded by people who loved him, and a wonderful Shaman led the service. I had never been to a “horse funeral” so I wasn’t sure what to expect. What happened at that service changed us all forever.

The weather was cool but the sun was shining. It was quiet except for a breeze that stirred the branches in the cedars above us. As the Shaman placed the four classical elements of earth, fire, water and air around Lumis’ resting spot, the trees began to rustle as the breeze turned to a wind, bending the boughs and spinning the grass and earth from the grave in circles around us. Pellets of snow began to fall. My heart was hammering in my chest as I looked up at the sky to see it turn to a fantastical, ever-changing kaleidoscope of colour. I was holding my breath and my hands were clasped over my heart as I felt that knot of pain and loss twist again in my stomach.

And then my little space in which I was standing seemed to fall quiet within that storm of emotions and weather. I sensed a subtle movement near my left shoulder and as I turned my head, I inhaled a wonderful aroma that was so familiar. It was the warm, sweet smell of Lumis’ breath as he blew gentle encouragement against my cheek. I could feel his solid strength standing behind me and that feeling of peace returned that I used to have when he and I would stand together in the barn. My friend and counselor, Lumis the sponge, had come to absorb my sadness one more time.

As I looked around the circle, I could see that many were experiencing the same profound moment. Lumis was here – his spirit had made itself known to us as the wind carried his soul to that forever place where he can run free for all time.

Lumis – always the caregiver, quietly assuming his role, whereas people tend to insist that others know what they do. He needed no accolades for what he was. My role had never been to look after him in the way I thought I was supposed to. He was there to look after me and countless others. His contribution to us was huge. It was his time to go and maybe he’ll be back some day. Maybe not in the same form, but I’ll know him when I meet him. You can never forget meeting an angel. I miss you Lumis.

 Photo Credits

All photos by Wanda Lambeth

A horse in the sun casts the shadow of an angel.

That relaxed habit of tongue dangling always made people smile.

Please may I come in?

A Wind To Carry His Soul is a post from: Life As A Human

Recently there has been a flurry of outrage concerning the fact that some very wealthy individuals, notably Mitt Romney, pay Federal taxes at the 15% middle class rate, because of a law that put a cap of 15% on taxes on capital gains and qualified investment income. Before jumping on a bandwagon calling for a repeal of the law, people need to understand something of its history and how it operates.

In its initial form the law took effect in 1997, during the Clinton Administration. While the Congress that framed it had a Republican majority, there was no notable opposition from the Democratic side. Part of the rationale was to encourage investment, and in particular to encourage people to sell stagnant investments and reinvest the proceeds in the most actively growing parts of the economy.

In its initial form, the law benefited only the well-to do, as I discovered when I filled out my 1997 income taxes. I had sold some appreciated stock to finance a friend’s mortgage, a move which produced substantial capital gains on paper, but my total income was still in the 15% bracket and I had difficulty paying the taxes since the effective income I had to live on was much less than what I was being taxed on. At that point, the tax structure encouraged reinvestment and portfolio management at upper income levels but still made it difficult for people in the middle.

At some point between 1997 and 2004 the law was modified to give people in the 15% bracket a break on capital gains and investment income as well. The typical person in this category is a retiree liquidating an investment portfolio to maintain a middle-class standard of living. That portfolio is the person’s retirement savings, and while in most cases no real sacrifice was involved in accumulating it, it does represent the sort of prudent financial management society would hopefully like to encourage. Some of the capital gains is simply the result of inflation. People have based their retirement savings strategies in part on the existing tax structure, and don’t have the flexibility the tycoons have to move funds around in anticipation of legislation.

Before using a few conspicuous examples of very wealthy individuals who are favored by the tax system as the rationale for trashing a law that also benefits people in more modest circumstances, I would like to see a breakdown of the numbers of individuals and dollar amounts involved under the current tax structure, and be very certain that either (a) the modifications to the law preserved the tax break for middle-class retirees, or that (b) the people who supported the law were clear that they wanted to saddle this large demographic with an unanticipated and potentially burdensome tax liability. I would also hope that the law was free of the sort of loopholes that would enable the very wealthy, who were allegedly being targeted, to escape a large chunk of the effects.

Photo Credit:

“Weishaupt.”  Flickr Creative Commons.   Some rights reserved by illpig

Capital Gains Tax Breaks – Not Just for the Rich is a post from: Life As A Human

Sometimes it takes a newcomer to the Island to remind us how awesome our community really is. When we live here long enough our island paradise can be taken for granted and we can all too easily forget the Oooh Ahhh factor. You know, like when we were kids at the fireworks and we would look up and collectively go Oooh, Ahhh. Is this taken-for-granted phenomenon wrapped up in familiarity or are we simply too busy to stop and appreciate our surroundings?

I’ve been here for 28 years and I really don’t understand the cabin fever type comments of having to get off the island once in a while. It must be the Welsh in me, the homebody instinct but I love it as much as I ever did. I must admit though I had forgotten just how good we have it. When I take a step back to reflect on my own Oooh Ahhh factor, I take in the expansive view from atop the Malahat: Oooh … Ahhh! The scent of an arbutus tree in flower after a May rainfall, and taking photographs with my husband as the summer sun rises over Fisherman’s Wharf in Sidney’s harbour.  And then, I took my revelry a step farther and started asking colleges and friends what brought them here and what was there Oooh Ahhh factor. Here is what Wilf Krahe, a proud Canadian citizen whose origins are Germany said.

Wilf’s first experience of this area came in 1975 when he was asked by a friend to travel with him to an uncle’s home in Canada. The result was a life long love affair with this Peninsula we inhabit. This trip long ago led to his immigration and desire to take out Canadian citizenship. Wilf’s Oooh Ahhh factor is the sense of space, the feeling of freedom and the friendly people. He still loves the slow pace and the fact that there is a space in the world with a park-like setting and few fences.

Another long time resident, Kim Erb, was fortunate enough to be brought here because of her husbands work. Like Wilf, Kim loves the slow unhurried pace, and the fact that geography saves us from urban sprawl. We will never suffer from the fungus of metropolis mushroom. What she loves most of all, her Oooh Ahhh factor, is that old country sense of community; the fact that when Kim is out and about she will meet and be greeted by the many people she has come to know is part of paradise. To quote her on contentment: “We have made our little nest here and we are cozy and comfortable.”

People still laugh when I tell them my husband and I came out here to retire, because at the time we were in our twenties and newly married. We had been watching our parents’ friends retire, move to there dream home away from all they had known most of there lives, only to find out they had left their friends and family behind. They had stopped looking at their particular paradise and, after much debating, wringing of hands and financial losses, they moved back to their original community, which had its own Oooh Ahhh factor. Taking our cue from their experience, we came to a place we wished to retire and here we are still. We have been able to make the dream a reality, having raised our kids and will be moving on into retirement, maybe not with ease but we are still afloat and will be here for the duration.

Thanks to newcomers, I now take longer looks at that summer sunrise that we photographed and hung on our wall; a welcome to all you new comers.
To the readers: are you, like me, taking our incredible community for granted? Do you remember why you came to the island? Or, if you’re from here, do you appreciate what we have? What’s your Oooh Ahhh factor?

First published in Seaside Times -February 2010, pg. 27 under the pen name Jesse Williamson

Photo Credit

©Jim Gardener

The Oooh Ahhh Factor is a post from: Life As A Human

On February 1, 2010, we launched our site with a post, Life As A Human Has Begun in which we said:

“That idea was to build a place, this website, which would present excellent writing across a wide range of topics. A place that would not feature sensationalism, but that would always strive to be sensational.”

Today, two years later, we celebrate our second birthday. It’s been an amazing journey so far and I just wanted to take a few minutes to describe where we are at and to express my thanks to many.

Where We Are

Our site has enjoyed constant positive feedback from it’s readership and to us, that is single most important metric. Here are a few other metrics of what we have achieved.

• As of this moment, Life As A Human has published 1,866 articles written by over 100 authors, from around the world.
• We are ranked as #45,932 of the top million sites in the USA and #3,330 of the top million sites in Canada. It’s important to note that there are hundreds of millions of websites in North America.
• We have been host to over 958 thousand visitors who have read close to 2 million pages.
• We have transferred over 2.7 terabytes of data and for those of you who still think about hits, we have had 122 million hits.

While numbers don’t tell the the whole story, they are useful to us as they spell out our growth in measurable terms. And while there have been ups and downs, we have grown steadily since the days of our first articles.

As you can see in this chart, things are really picking up … we’re just getting warmed up!

Thank You …

To our authors, for everything you have brought to the table. Your words, your pictures, your ideas and your willingness to be a part of our online magazine as we have gone through our growing pains. It has been particularly rewarding to develop friendships with so many of you.

To our readers, for your continued support of our website through your readership, your comments, the encouraging emails that many of you have sent in to us and for telling your friends about Life As A Human.

To our fans in Twitter, Facebook and Stumbleupon, for sharing our site, individual articles and photos with all of your friends.

To the many site enablers we have worked with on everything from the style-sheets for the site to featured widgets, to SEO and so much more. Many of you have provided a great deal of help and encouragement to us.

To all of the photographers and artists out there who generously share their work through creative commons. Our pages would be pretty bare without you.

And last but not least, to the Life As A Human Team and their families, for all of the time you have invested in bringing this site to where it is today. Many of our readers are not aware that we all do this from our homes in the evenings, early mornings and weekends, after our day jobs and family commitments are looked after. Our journey has not always been an easy one, but I can’t think of a better team to navigate rough waters with. You have all done such an excellent job.

All of you have played a part in our success and we are very grateful!

And so, we enter into our third year. In 2011, we launched the Photo Site and the Art Gallery. Between the 3 sites, we look forward to bringing you more and more great content and engaging in more and more conversations with you. As always, we invite your feedback and encourage you to leave comments for our authors as they post new articles and images.

2 years old … we’ve come a long way, but we’re just a toddler really. This year, we learn to run

Photo Credit

Birthday Cake – Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

Life As A Human Is Two Years Old! is a post from: Life As A Human

This week, my husband and I attended Ottawa’s opening night of Svengali, a performance from the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, at Canada’a National Arts Centre.

Although I’m not a professional art critic and my dance training is so far behind me that I couldn’t recall the names of certain moves even under duress, I thought an “amateur’s” review might be helpful. Because, really, most audience members are just like me, aren’t they? I won’t go into the plot of the performance since other reviews (links included throughout this post) already do that, and will instead simply focus on our experience.

To borrow the perfectly apt words of CBC art critic Robert Enright, this performance was a “visual turn-on.”

The choreography struck me as very unique, and in many instances, so emotionally moving. I lack the words to adequately describe this, without just sounding silly. But as example, in the car on the way home, my husband recalled a movement in particular where the dancers were fluttering their hands behind their backs. It sounds simple, right? But the way it was pulled off, combined with the music, was so effective. In an art critic with the Winnipeg Free Press, Alison Mayes describes another series of powerful movements:

“In one poignant moment, Trilby (Amanda Green), the female star, has just become the toast of the town, showered with glitter and flowers. As soon as she’s out of the spotlight, she slumps and the bouquet slips to the floor — a snapshot of emptiness that speaks of manipulated stars like Michael Jackson.“

These kinds of poignant moments were brought to life through clever choreography throughout the night. I was particularly touched by one scene where men are coming up to Trilby, the central female character, and embracing her while a split second later, pushing her away to the floor like garbage.

As much we were both mesmerized by the choreography, Paula Citron, an art critic with the Globe and Mail, panned it harshly. Her chief complaint seems to be how unrecognizable this rendition of Svengali is to its original tale, published in 1894. Since neither of us had ever read that book, this did not affect us in the least. However, she also notes:

“A major weakness in Godden’s production lies in the fact that Svengali’s hypnotic powers and charisma are practically invisible, rendering James about as threatening as a Boy Scout.”

She’s got a point here. I’m not sure if this is the fault of the choreography or the choice of James to play Svengali — who is a talented dancer but does not bring an intimating physicality to the role — or both. Citron also feels that the archetypes and symbolism fall “flatter than a pancake.” And she may even have a point here as well.

But, again, this did not interfere with our enjoyment. It was a visual delight, from start to finish, and the plot was more of secondary consideration to us when all was said and done.

Even the costumes were captivating. Act III was an absolute highlight, with its glamorous and sexually alluring skin-coloured costumes. (I tried to find a photograph for you, but I couldn’t.)

There were a minor few elements that I thought distracting, even bizarre. The opening music was from the birth scene in in the cult film 2001: A Space Odyssey. I actually thought it was the Star Wars music at first. All in all, it seemed like a bizarre choice. Either too obvious or not obvious enough to be a tongue-in-cheek reference. Especially since no other pop culture music references were made in the rest of the performance.

In another example, during a powerful scene where Svengali is destroying Trilby’s metaphorical “hearts,” a large garbage can is pulled onto the stage. On it were bright white letters reading “GLASS.” Everything else was a metaphor … the paper hearts, etc, and here they write GLASS? Unnecessary and distracting.

Should you rush out and get tickets?

If you have any interest in dance, I would highly recommend it. The company is touring in British Columbia this spring and you can find the details on the Royal Winnipeg website.

Photo Credits

All photos by Bruce Monk.

 A contemporary feeling ballet – Svengali, The Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Svengali (Harrison James) and Trilby (Amanda Green) – Royal Winnipeg Ballet

Royal Winnipeg Ballet – Svengali

Note: This review was originally published at Coffee with Julie.

RWB’s Svengali: An Amateur’s Review is a post from: Life As A Human

Watching Being in the World, a small film about some pretty big ideas, opened my eyes to the state of philosophy in the 21st century. It had everything from Plato to Creole cooking, Heidegger to juggling. Modern day philosophers weighed in on the age old question of the meaning of life as well as what makes us human. Artisans and masters in their fields of work shared what they do best and how it brings them alive.

There were more than a few sessions of brain aerobics as I attempted to follow the rational roads of philosophic ponderings laid out by such mental masters as Hubert Dreyfus, Charles Taylor, and Mark Wrathall. After relating the story of MIT’s 1960’s foray into artificial intelligence and Dr. Dreyfus’s admonition that a computer could never be intelligent, John Haugeland, a professor of philosophy at the University of Chicago, said something that resonated with sublime simplicity. What makes us unique, what sets us apart from any computer is that we give a damn. It’s ultimately our give-a-damnness that makes us human.

In the film Leah Chase, a New Orleans chef, shared her recipes, but also that the ingredients and directions on paper wouldn’t guarantee the same cooking results as hers. Manuel Molina only plays flamenco on a handmade guitar because that is where he touches another’s humanity. The colours of wood Hirosui Sakaguchi uses in his buildings speak to him as a lover speaks to their beloved. It is in our caring for what we do and for who we encounter that meaning can emerge in life.

The lesson is in allowing the master within ourselves to emerge whether we are washing a dish or conducting an orchestra. A meaningful life doesn’t depend on what happened in your childhood or even a minute ago. Meaning comes with the next breath, the next step, the next moment of wonder that arises within us. It’s in following inspiration, in allowing the best of us to witness the best in each other. To show up with every cell in our being for this show we call life.

And I think that’s worth a damn.

Being in The World Movie Trailer

Click here to view the embedded video.

Photo Credits

Feature Image – Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

Thumbnail and Image in Post are Screen Caps From The Video – Being In The World

Being Human is a post from: Life As A Human

Every once in a while in birding, something completely surprises you. Sometimes it’s an assumption that you’ve always had, that you suddenly realize is completely false. Sometimes it’s an epiphany about some field mark – maybe one that every other birder knows, that has somehow slipped past you for all this time.

For me, the Limpkin falls into the category of mistaken assumptions. The first time I saw one, I was amazed at how big it was. I had always just assumed that they were the size of a large rail. So imagine my surprise to discover that the brownish heron standing beside a pond in the Yucatan was a Limpkin.

Female Eurasian Teal and female Green-winged Teal fall into the second category for me. I had always just run under the assumption that they were indistinguishable, and left it at that.

But first a bit of background. Here in western Canada we have three regular species of teal: Green-winged, Blue-winged and Cinnamon. However, a fourth teal, the Eurasian (aka Common Teal), occasionally shows up from breeding grounds in Asia and western Alaska. Several years ago there was increased attention paid to the Green-winged and Eurasian teals as ornithological committees around the world split off Green-winged Teal (Anas carolinensis) from Eurasian Teal (Anas crecca) as two distinct species. There was much rumour and hype that the American Ornithologists’ Union would soon follow suit…they never did. At any rate, whether considered as two separate species as they are in many countries, or as different forms of the same species as here in North America, the stage was set for looking at our teal much more closely.

Fast forward to a birding trip I took to China. We were enjoying scoping out Eurasian Teal flocks in the hopes of turning up new and exotic species. The problem was that due to incessant hunting pressures, these birds rarely stuck around long enough for careful scrutiny. So it was, while watching the tail end of yet another teal flock, that it suddenly hit me what was different about these birds. The upper wing-bar (formed by the greater coverts) of Eurasian Teal is a different colour than on our Green-wingeds. The speculum of Green-winged Teal is bordered by a white trailing edge, and a (variably) buffish upper bar. On Eurasian Teal both of these bars are white. This was good news, for now I could try to pick out a female Eurasian Teal back home in Canada.

Upon coming home and investigating this trait, I found out that it was, in fact, an already published field mark. This and a couple other field marks can be read about here. Now, I don’t think the wing bar difference is 100% reliable. That is, I’ve yet to encounter a Green-winged Teal with a completely white upper wingbar, but some Eurasian do seem to have buffish bars, especially nearer the body. Sibley’s guide states that there is much overlap in this feature, and undoubtedly integradation/hybridization (depending on your taxonomic viewpoint) complicates the matter somewhat. Some birds, as always, are best left unidentified. Nevertheless, this wing bar appears to be one of the main differences in separating the females of these species/subspecies, and knowing this is one more weapon in the birder’s identification arsenal.

To see this difference in some more images of female Eurasian Teal in flight check out here, and here. For images of Green-winged Teal check here and here.

Photo Credits

Limpkin – Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Eurasian Teal – © Aron Tanti – Discovering Malta’s Flora & Fauna

First Posted At Volant B.C. on July 27, 2011

Guest Author Bio

Nathan Hentze
My name is Nathan Hentze and I’m a birder, professional biologist, grad student and new dad. I live and grew up in coastal British Columbia, but have called a few other regions of BC home over the years, allowing me to explore many corners of this great province. Birds have also taken me to a few other places around the world (not literally, I usually traveled by car or plane), most notably an extended trip with my lovely wife to South America. I also journeyed to Asia, where I had the great pleasure of working with one of the rarest and most charismatic birds in the world – the Spoon-billed Sandpiper.

I’ve been birding since I was at least 11. Although my focus is always birds, I try to stop and smell the mammals, reptiles, amphibians, butterflies, dragonflies, and other critters along the way. I like long strolls around sewage lagoons (just ask my wife…both our first date and my proposal happened at sewage facilities) and spending hours contemplating strange gulls at waste disposal sites. If we pass each other in the field, please stop and say hello. Until then, good birding.

Blog / Website: Volant B.C.

What’s the Teal-io is a post from: Life As A Human

This 1957 black-and-white gem, director Sidney Lumet’s cinematic debut (he had worked for some years in television), has lost none of its riveting intensity in the half century since it first appeared on screen. The movie features, along with Henry Fonda, some of the finest character actors of the day (and any other day, for that matter): Lee J. Cobb, Jack Warden, Martin Balsam, Ed Begley, Jack Klugman, E.G. Marshall. In 12 Angry Men, these actors offer as fine an ensemble performance as can be seen in the movies.

On just about the hottest day of the year, twelve men—all of them white—retire to the jury room to deliberate the fate of a young Hispanic man who has been accused in the stabbing death of his father in their New York City slum apartment. Shortly after the jurors assemble to deliberate the fate of the defendant a “preliminary” vote is taken; the result is 11 votes for guilty and one (from Juror #8, played by Fonda) for not guilty. Juror #8 does not claim that the boy is innocent; he simply believes that “It’s not easy to send a boy off to die without talking about it first.” His vote provokes derision, indignation, and disbelief from his fellow jurors.

What unfolds over the next eighty minutes is an intriguing murder mystery, a character study—times twelve—and a display of virtuoso film directing.

The so-called facts of the case are revealed by the jury members when they are asked to convince Juror #8 to change his mind. The prosecution’s argument rested upon the testimony of several witnesses, the uniqueness of the murder weapon, the boy’s criminal and arrest record, and the apparent flimsiness of his alibi. Juror #8 immediately begins to pick holes in the case and to raise doubts in the minds of some of the other jurors. The second vote is 10-2, and the dismantling of the case continues, to the increasing frustration of several of the jurors. More and more of them are beginning to be convinced, however, and join #8 in the questioning of the evidence.

When the final major piece of evidence is cast into serious doubt the vote stands at 11-1 in favour of acquittal. And in a powerfully dramatic ending the last holdout tearfully yields.

As the evidence of the prosecution is refuted piece by piece, the character of each juror is revealed. Those who appear the weakest—a very old man and a milquetoast banker——are the first to display their inner strength; they grow increasingly confident as others join their ranks. The loudest and most adamant in their insistence on the young man’s guilt reveal their racial prejudice and their personal bias, their protests growing increasingly strident as the vote swings against them. Each man is a unique individual and each actor gives an acting lesson in rendering his character.

The greatest of these, in my view, is Lee J. Cobb, Juror #3 and the last to change his vote. When asked to give his reasons for voting guilty, he says calmly, “Here’s what I think, and I have no personal feelings about this; I just want to talk about facts.” He lists, from notes he has taken, some of the major evidence in the case. But gradually, brilliantly, he shows us that indeed he does have very personal feelings about the case: he is angry and grieving over his estrangement with his own son and he wishes to punish him—and perhaps all young people—vicariously by sending teenager to the electric chair. His anger intensifies, along with his anguish, as he is increasingly isolated.

The film essentially takes place in a single location: the jury room. Director Lumet brilliantly sidesteps the danger of boring the audience by creating an immense variety of shots and by keeping the actors in motion throughout the film. In one 30-second sequence, in which the camera does not move, one man leaves the frame, another stands up, then another, another enters the frame, then another, and one man crosses the frame from left to right; throughout the scene the argument continues, with one man even speaking outside the frame.

Lumet continually increases the tension through camera work, by making the atmosphere “more and more confined.” He says, “As the picture progressed, I used longer and longer lenses; in other words, brought the walls in closer, brought the ceiling in closer, just to make it even more claustrophobic. And I also kept dropping the eye level: in the beginning I was above eye level, middle third of the movie at eye level, last third of the movie below eye level.” Extreme close-ups also contribute to the dramatic effect as do changes in the light, from natural daylight, to the dark of the storm, to the artificial electric light of the room itself.

In his book Making Movies, Lumet explains how he saves money on a shoot. In the jury room, he divided the four walls into Wall A, Wall B, etc. Because “whenever the camera has to change its angle more than 15 degrees, it’s necessary to relight…” a very time-consuming and therefore expensive process. So all the scenes in which the camera faced Wall A, for example, were shot before the lighting was moved to Wall B, and so forth. Using this process means that “the actors are shooting completely out of sequence.” In 12 Angry Men, “Lee Cobb arguing with Henry Fonda [they were on opposite sides of the table in the film] would obviously have shots of Fonda (against Wall C) and shots of Cobb (against Wall A). They were shot seven or eight days apart. It meant, of course, that I had to have a perfect emotional memory of the intensity reached by Lee Cobb seven days earlier. But that’s where rehearsals were invaluable. After two weeks of rehearsal I had a complete graph in my head of where I wanted each level of emotion in the movie to be. We finished in nineteen days (a day under schedule) and were $1,000 dollars under budget.” The budget for 12 Angry Men was $350,000, a miniscule amount even in 1957.

It is a testament to the skill of this first-time director and to the skill of the actors that 12 Angry Men, a miserable flop at the box office, turned out to be a timeless masterpiece.

Image Credit

12 Angry Men poster @ Wikipedia

Intriguing Murder Mystery, Brilliant Character Study: A Review of “12 Angry Men” is a post from: Life As A Human