Greatest Sense of Freedom

It may seem a strange thing, but the greatest sense of freedom I have experienced in life has come when wandering around high up on the flanks of active volcanoes in Ecuador.

My personal favourite is Volcán Tungurahua located in the province of Tungurahua in central Ecuador. Tungurahua means “Throat of Fire” in the native Kichwa language. It stands at 5023 m (16,480 ft) in total height above sea level, and towers over the towns around it by a good 1554 m (5098 ft). Its last major activity was in December 2010 lasting into January 2011.

Since I was planning to visit the town of Baños de Agua Santa at its base, I began checked volcanic updates daily since December. I learned as much as I could about volcanoes in general – how they work, how to recognize warning signs that occur before eruptions, and what to do in case of an eruption. And I learned as much as I could about Tungurahua itself before I ever left for Ecuador.

On the way into Baños the summit of Tungurahua was obscured by cloud so I was unsure as to its level of activity. Once in town, I noticed that no one was talking about the volcano which was a good sign. The next day after relaxing in the thermal mineral baths that are fed by a hot spring bubbling out of the base of the volcano and checking on weather forecasts for the day, I began assessing my options to its summit. This is where the sense of freedom began.

After a few high-altitude hikes previously, and feeling a bit too relaxed after the mineral bath, I decided on the “easy” route of simply taking a taxi up to the last little pueblo on Tungurahua. Once at the pueblo it was on foot the rest of the way. Sounds easy but at high altitude even “easy climbs” take a lot of effort.

As a climber, I am not an extreme climber. No vertical cliff faces, nothing that requires ropes, special equipment or training. I stick with footpaths that may require a ton of effort but nothing more. After walking uphill for another 2 km (1.25 miles) or so I came to the point where the path went no higher. At that point, I was standing at 4572 m (15,000 ft). Having no compass, overnight gear, etc I decided the best option was to NOT attempt to climb to the top of the crater. Getting lost in the trees or getting trapped up there when the clouds would come in did not seem like a good option to me. So I rested a bit here, admiring the views and just thankful that Tungurahua had allowed me to climb so close to the crater on this side. (You can reach the crater by a path on the opposite side of the mountain, but that is also the side that Tungurahua vents towards. I was on the “safe side”, the side that doesn’t receive much damage during the volcano’s outbursts.)

On the way back down, I decided that because Tungurahua was calm and the weather was clear I would simply take the footpath rather than the road back to town. The path was steep, often just a narrow track. Once in awhile the trees would open where I could see down the cliff to the town below which at first was a dizzying 1550 m (5000 ft) straight drop with no fences or anything to keep you from going off the edge.

Along the journey down I was surrounded by a variety of flowers that I have never seen before, so many kinds and shapes and colours. Butterflies and hummingbirds everywhere. All the while listening for rumblings or belches from the crater above me, in tune with the ground under my feet waiting for slight tremors or vibrations to say that the volcano I was walking on was getting restless.

Telling this tale to people back home I receive many comments. Shock mostly. “Are you crazy?” “You’re braver than me!” “You’re insane walking down an active volcano! With no guide! You could have been killed!”

Was it lack of oxygen that caused me to feel such a sense of freedom under these circumstances? Or a death wish? A touch of insanity?

The freedom really started to dawn on me as I began plotting the best way for me to get up to the crater. The limited choice of 2 roads and a footpath was narrowed to 2 roads because I was not in the mindset to walk up 1500+ m then walk back down. So it became a choice of which side to go up – the safe side or the other side? The first freedom came not through a myriad of choices available, but by the simplicity of only a few viable options.

Once the taxi left, I had only one option left: walk. Even more freedom because now I had one path to continue upwards to the summit, and only one means to attain it. It was easy to enjoy the weather and the views out over the valley below. The burdens of yesterday and the concerns/plans for tomorrow vanished as I was more focused on attentiveness to the mood of the volcano and keeping an eye on clouds forming off in the distance.

The next freedom came due to my restricted pace. I could not walk quickly up here, and being forced to slow down gave me a freedom of relaxation and peace and release of the pressures of daily life in a big city.

Walking around a bend I saw a sight that I had longed to see since I was a child and had been saddened by NOT seeing elsewhere on the trip: the sight of a wild Andean condor! I stopped and at marvelled at the giant bird soaring over the top of the volcano, and gliding effortlessly over the valleys. Nothing else existed during those few minutes except the condor, the sky, the mountains, the valley, and the volcano.

Then I reached the end of the path upwards. A few quick decisions mentioned above brought the end of my upward climb. And here perhaps was the greatest freedom: the simplicity of making sound judgements without having to weigh factors of all the facets of city life. Up here it is simply: is this a good idea? You have to only factor in a few immediate concerns to say “yes I will do it” or “no I won’t attempt it”. There is no “if I do this will I lose my job/house/spouse/family?” Up here it is “Am I prepared for survival if I get stuck here overnight?” In my case the answer was a simple “NO” so it was a simple decision to head back down.

Walking down the footpath also offered a tremendous freedom: there was only one path, and I was heading downwards on it, so I never had to worry about “am I going the right direction?” No concerns of getting lost, of taking a wrong turn. . It allowed me to focus on listening to and feeling the volcano for any changes, and to enjoy the beautiful variety of life with no concerns to hinder me.

The freedoms came from knowing the volcano and doing things in accord with what it would allow… and doing things in accord with my own limitations in respect to the mountain and its environment. I did not try to push beyond the point where the path ended because it was beyond what I was prepared for; the volcano was calm and the clouds stayed away.

Do I regret that I got that high up the volcano yet never did reach the summit? No. For me it is not whether I reach the summit or not… I know many have that reach-it-at-all-costs mentality. For me, it is enough that Tungurahua allowed me to climb safely that close to the crater at all, and to experience the freedoms mentioned above during my intimate experience on the volcano. Such an experience I do not take for granted: the very next day Tungurahua started spewing again, making the serene experience I had the day before into a more daunting, risky venture the following day.

“Like the Stoic sage, the climber who understands the mountains and his or her self, and whose will is in harmony with the mountain environment, is free. But the freedom does not result from having many options; instead, it is a result of desiring precisely those things the mountain allows.” – Kevin Krein, Climbing and the Stoic Conception of Freedom

A Challenge to the 100 Mile Diet authors

Two Canadians decided to “affect global change” by challenging themselves, and now others, to only eat food grown/produced/raised within 100 miles of where each of us lives. Supposedly this will help “save the planet” by reducing pollution while helping out our local farmers.

 

With all due respect, I have another challenge for the two authors who wish to “affect global change”:

 

Go to the Philippines and explain to the people who depend on pineapple farming why you are challenging people in other countries to stop buying from them.

 

Then go to Vietnam and Cambodia and talk to the rice farmers (I have been to Cambodian villages myself); go to Cuba and talk to Cuban sugar cane farmers (I have visited there too); tea farmers in India, China, and Sri Lanka; quinoa farmers in Bolivia. Take your pick. Explain to the people in these places why you wish to take away their sole source of income and drive them further into poverty.

 

In Colombia, coffee workers had switched to growing crops of coca for the production of cocaine and look where it got Colombia. Eventually the farmers formed co-ops and along with the government fought off the drug cartels. If enough people followed the 100 Mile Diet the coffee farmers and workers in Colombia would be forced to seek out a more profitable crop – likely coca - once again. 

 

In Ecuador there is a cloud-forest reserve near the town of Apuela. This is the Intag region where a local co-op grows organic coffee using sustainable practices. This co-op, along with the sustainable tourism that is being promoted in the region has so far managed to keep a large Canadian mining company from tearing down the cloud forest and mining the copper which is abundant in the area. Take away the coffee and the tourism resulting from it from the local people of Apuela and the mining company will be allowed to rip apart the mountains there, destroying the cloud forest and leaving the local community with nothing when the copper is done.

 

In Canada’s arctic, such an “100 mile diet” would necessitate the people living off of whales, seals, caribous, white bears, and other animals that we currently seek to protect, as well as decrease the people’s overall health by limiting or eliminating essential vitamins and minerals from their diets that they obtain from “imported” foods such as wheat, carrots, potatoes, etc.  

 

I appreciate what the authors are trying to accomplish, but I feel that their “global change” is too short-sighted and introverted. If enough people follow their lead, regions that are already impoverished and have been making strides in improvements will be forced back into practices that are destructive of their environments and of their social structures which have been slowly improving over the past few decades.

 

It would seem to me that a more balanced approach would be to buy within 100 miles when such a product is available, IE  that are grown in our areas – examples, meat, veggies, fruit, dairy, etc – while still buying coffee, sugar, tea, fruits, grains, etc that are NOT grown in our own local area. This would support our local farmers, reduce transportation needs, while at the same time continue to support the more impoverished areas by providing them a market for their products which are their sole source of employment and income.

 

In our strive to affect global change, we need to assess how our choices will affect not only our immediate area, but how our choices ultimately affect other people around the world. We should seek out choices that reduce our negative effects on the environment as well as our negative effects on societies throughout the world. We need to seek out places and people like the Intag region of Ecuador as examples of people who are making a positive difference by protecting the cloud forest from destruction while at the same time building an organic sustainable agricultural employer for their local workers while we provide a market for them to sell their product, thereby sustaining them in their efforts. This is the overall mutually-beneficial system that will reduce poverty, protect the environment, and build a better world for everyone together as partners.

A Schoolyard Squabble

These are the memories of an encounter with racism at an early stage of my life:

A group of us boys were hanging out in the schoolyard at recess. We got to talking about girls. Not girls in our class or school or neighbourhood; let’s face it, THOSE girls were all, well, “YUCK”. Not one of us would dare to admit that we actually had a crush on a REAL girl. No, no. We were talking about girls on TV.

One guy liked Laura Ingalls (actress Melissa Gilbert) on “Little House on the Prairie”. The rest us sneered at that. After all, Laura was too much like the Mennonite girls in our area.

All the other guys (except Laura-lover and me) had the same crush: Marcia Brady (actress Maureen McCormick) on “The Brady Bunch”. The guys went on and on about how hot Marcia was, and how they all wanted to marry her when they got older.

Noticing my silence on the virtues of Marcia, they asked me: “Don’t you like Marcia too?”

“Nope.”

They were shocked. “Well, who do YOU like?” they taunted.

“Thelma Evans” (actress Bern Nadette Stanis) on “Good Times”.

“WHAT?! You can’t like her!” one of the boys gasped.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because she’s BLACK!”

“So?” I didn’t understand what the guy meant by that statement.

He informed me: “You are white, and white guys can’t like black girls!”

This angered me and I retorted: “I’d marry Thelma Evans any day. You can keep your Marcia!”

　

Admittedly I thought then (and still think now) that Thelma was WAY better looking than Marcia. But going beyond just the outward, back then I didn’t know exactly what it was about Thelma that made her more appealing to me than Marcia ever could be. Now that I am older, I see those things that separate the two.

Marcia Brady is an over-achiever, top of everything. Highly competitive and outright whiny at times. She had almost everything handed to her. Her “groovy” attitude and way of dealing with things left her shallow in my mind.

Thelma on the other hand was also very smart. Unlike Marcia, Thelma had to fight hard for what she got. Her grades came with diligent study in a less-than-ideal setting. She was sweet and loving, but when older brother JJ gave her lip, she gave it right back. She was nobody’s doormat. And for all the squabbles, if someone wanted to mess with JJ or any of the rest of the family, Thelma would do everything she could to protect her family. She had a perfect balance of sweetness and sass, of intelligence and savvy.

Throughout my life I have only been interested in those women who have the characteristics of Thelma Evans, regardless of ethnic background. It is the person inside the skin that truly matters.

The Future of Writing?

 

“Lidia Georgievna, let’s be frank. At the beginning of the vacation you gave us a terribly long list of books, not one of them less than five hundred pages. How long does it take to read a book like that? Two months? And it’s always an epic, a trilogy — ‘to be continued’. Who do they publish them for?”

  

　

Young technical student Anikin is addressing an issue with his literature teacher in Solzhenistyn’s “For The Good Of The Cause“. He goes on to argue that every technical student must read the latest technical journals and publications just to keep up with advances in technology. How can he have time to read classic novels, especially epics when he is trying to keep up with his practical knowledge for his career? And why do they even bother to publish such lengthy books?

 

 Though the setting of Anikin’s dilemma is in the Soviet Union of 1963, we can easily see that this is an equally applicable question in today’s society, in any country.

 

Anikin continues with this train of logic:

 

“To my way of thinking…authors who in this day and age write such long things really have a lot of nerve! We always have to find the most economical solutions when we design a circuit… ‘Couldn’t this be made shorter? Or simpler? Or cheaper?’ … Why don’t they just say: ‘This novel could have been one-tenth as long, and that one isn’t even worth reading.’ “

 　

The comparison between technological design and writing is intriguing. After all, if our technology is geared towards making things smaller, faster, and cheaper to produce, why not apply it to novel writing and literature? With our compressed time for recreation due to having to read endless journals, analysis reports, upgrading our education with the most current courses, who has time to read the full-length 1500-page version of Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” when you can simply get the Coles notes, or the “War and Peace For Dummies” outline, or even the Reader’s Digest condensed version? If really pressed for time, you can simply get the gist of it from the Wikipedia entry while you are waiting for your Flash-enhanced technical journal to download in another tab.

 

Is the epic novel a thing of the past? Is the future of writing to be just simple blog entries, short stories, and tracts? Or is there still a place for the epic novels? The answer to both is “yes”.

 

While it is easy to point to novel’s such as Tolstoy’s epics “War and Peace” and “Anna Karenina”; Dostoyevsky’s “Crime and Punishment”; Bulgakov’s “The Master and Margarita”; and Fadeyev’s “The Young Guard” as examples of “classic” Russian/Soviet literature, it must be noted that these are but a few of the works of each of these authors. Though he wrote 3 lengthy novels, Tolstoy also wrote a prolific amount of short stories and shorter novels, as did the other authors named above.

 

To move into another sphere, “Njal’s Saga” is considered the grandest of the Icelandic sagas, but certainly there were many other short sagas that are also a part of classic Icelandic folklore and literature.

 

Perhaps in this novella “For The Good of the Cause” the author was questioning whether or not to write two lengthy novels that he had been working on. In fact, the next work that Solzhenitsyn published was his epic story “Cancer Ward”, followed a few years later by his even-longer multi-volume “Gulag Archipelago”.

 

In the science fiction genre, Arthur C. Clarke wrote the Space Odyssey series, and co-wrote the 4-book “Rama” series.

 

In the 1980’s Jean Auel published her “Clan of the Cave Bear” – though only 468 pages in length, it is still a long read. This has evolved into 7-book series called “Earth’s Children” of which the sixth is in progress.

 

Then came the “Harry Potter” series, and more recently the “Twilight” series of novels. No one complained about the length of the books in these series. People found time to read them, sometimes reading an entire 700-page book in a day!

 

Short stories, novellas, novels, epics; each has their place in the realm of classic literature. There is a great admiration for the writer who can develop and successfully achieve an effective story in a few short pages. Still more the writer who can take and develop a consistency of style, story, and character development growth over the course of an epic, even over a trilogy and beyond.

 

Circuits, computer programs, technology are all worked at to be smaller, faster, cheaper. Condense “War and Peace” to make it shorter, faster to read, and cheaper to produce by not having so many pages, and you take away fine details from the art, leaving a pale facsimile of the author’s intent.

Classic literature is not a technology that should be made to fit into a science lab or an accountant’s balance sheet as such. Classic literature is an art; a form of communicating thoughts and ideas and events; a means of expression. Let us not lose the art of story-telling.

BEAUTY

Re-telling of an Anishinaubek (Ojibway) tale

 

Ojibway medicine man

A young Anishinaubae (Ojibway) wanted to learn traditional medicine. In fact, he wanted to learn many things. He had lost his language, unable to speak a word of Ojibway. He had gone to many places seeking whatever it was he was searching for. Of course, he could not find it because he did not know what he was actually seeking.

 

　

He went and found a traditional Anishinaubek medicine man. He told the man he wished to learn medicine, but only good medicine that would help his fellow Anishinaubek. The old man agreed, but told the youth that it would take time; it could not be done quickly.

One day they were out and came to a river.

“Look into the river and tell me what you see” said the old man.

The youth replied: “Nothing.”

“Look again and tell me what you see.”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“OK” said the old man and they went back home. At home, the old man again asked what the youth had seen in the river. “Nothing.”

The old man asked: “Didn’t you see your reflection in the river?”

The youth was getting frustrated. This old man had taught him nothing. When would he start?

Early the next morning the old man and the youth went to a large pond. The old man requested that the youth retrieve a certain flower for him from the pond. Once he was knee-deep in the water, the youth pointed to a flower and asked: “Is this the one you want?”

“No, go further out” was the reply.

Now the youth repeated the question when he was waist-deep in the water. And the old man replied again, “No, one further out.”

Now up to his neck in the water, the youth asked: “Is this the one?”

“Yes, that is it. But do NOT break it off. I want the whole flower, root and all.”

The young man grabbed the plant as far down as he could reach but it would not come loose. “Now what do I do?” he called out.

“Do what you need to do” replied the old man.

The youth hesitated. The water was dark black and smelled very bad. He did not wish to have to put his head in there. He struggled with the plant a few more times, but it would not budge. Holding his breath he dove to the bottom and dug the roots out with his hands. Returning to shore, he gave the plant to the medicine man and got very sick from the smell of filthy water.

“Did you learn anything?” asked the old man.

“All I learned is that you want this plant very badly!” snorted the youth.

The youth had had enough. This old man wasn’t teaching him anything, so he left.

Much later, he was back in the big city and had gotten snowed in. All he could do was sit inside. Finally he understood what the old man had taught him!

When he was rushing about as the waters of the stream he took no notice of anything out of the ordinary, and took no notice of himself. But now that he was calm like the pond, he had the time to think and understand deeper things.

Here is the second lesson he learned from getting the flower for the old man. If you are to help your fellow human, what you must do is set before you. However unpleasant it may be, however much you may hate it, you must work at it. What must be done is not always beautiful.

And this – everything on the surface of the water is beautiful. But to get to the source of true beauty, you must dig deep.

Repatriation at CFB Trenton

Hearse carrying remains of reporter Michelle Lang

 

Hundreds of people braved bitter cold to line the highway outside of Canadian Forces Base (CFB) Trenton this afternoon to pay their respects to the 5 Canadians killed in Kandahar, Afghanistan last week as well as the families of the fallen.

Arriving at the base and parking, the first thing I saw was a man getting out of his car across the highway. At first he looked like any other retired military man. Except that in this case, he had a broken left foot. His cast was wrapped in a plastic bag, and I watched in silence as he hobbled along on his crutches through the slush and snow to find a spot to participate in watching and paying his respects.

The afternoon was snowy with a stiff wind. Temperatures in mid-afternoon had a wind-chill of -23C ( -10 F). Because there were 5 coffins on the plane, the process of removing each coffin and carrying to the waiting hearses took almost 2 hours.

The first off the plane was the coffin carrying Michelle Lang, the reporter who was riding in the armoured car with the troops that hit the IED. Ms. Lang bears the distinction of being the first civilian in Canadian history to be repatriated by the military.

Then the 4 soldiers’ coffins were removed one by one.

When the convoy was ready to leave to head to Toronto, firetrucks blocked traffic along the highway so people could form a line on either side of one lane. The vehicles then passed through the long line of people paying their respects. When the hearses pass by and then the limos with the families of the fallen, it gets pretty personal. And when a family member rolls down a window and waves and says “thank you” to the people gathered along the roadside, the cold and the numbness seem such an insignificant thing .

No matter how many times I attend these ceremonies, the tears always come. And the silence in the car driving home is always a long one.

**my apologies for the blurry pic. After 2 hours in -23 C temps, it wasn’t working that well anymore**

IKEA shelf project

  

IKEA Fjus shelf unit

 

When I first saw the IKEA Fjus shelf unit I wasn’t overly impressed with it. The unfinished pine looked rather bland, and the light-weight metal crossbrace didn’t seem to give the unit much strength to stop it from twisting and flexing at the slightest touch. Maybe anchored to a wall in a garage or basement, it might work. But in an apartment, it seemed an unattractive and senseless piece of furniture. 

HOWEVER… 

I saw that one IKEA store had offered the Fjus as a one-day sale item at 60% off regular price. Needing a shelf unit to store my bulky, only used occasionally kitchen items such as food dehydrater, deep fryer, stock pots, etc  I started thinking about what to do with this unit. I measured out a space and the Fjus would fit perfectly, so off I went to buy one. 

Someone I know had ridiculed IKEA as “cheap stuff that is all made in China” so I have a habit of always checking the “Made in…” label. Ironically, most of the IKEA pieces I have bought are Made in Poland. In this case, the Fjus label stated “Made in Canada”.  Haha, Canadian pine. I could have cut down a few trees in my neighbourhood to make this one! LOL! 

The bland appearance of unfinished pine had to go. It would look awful in an apartment setting, so my first task to improve the Fjus was to head off to Rona Building Centre and buy some woodstain.  I chose the Varathane brand “Golden Oak” interior stain (made in USA). Staining was straightforward as the 4 uprights and 5 shelves were are all flat and fairly easy to work with. After allowing the stain to dry completely, a further two coats of clear varnish were added to seal and protect the wood. 

Note: I also took a small scrap of pine that was laying around from another project and stained/varnished it to match the Fjus for later use on this project. 

Once it dried thoroughly the whole unit was assembled except for the metal cross-bracing. The nice thing about the Fjus is the symmetry to every piece allowing me to put all the uprights with the best parts outward, and the shelves with the best parts facing upward. 

I decided to assemble the unit with a small space at the top to hold a box or basket filled with papers such as warranties, instruction books for various appliances, etc. The bottom would have a bigger space, allowing the floor itself to be used as a 6th shelf to hold the heaviest boxes, and would also allow easy access to cleaning the floor underneath the shelf. 

Standing back to admire the progress so far, I realized a drawback to the symmetry. I wondered why the worst sides of the shelves were facing upwards, and then realized I had assembled the unit upside-down from what I had wanted!! So I turned the unit over and one-by-one removed all the shelves and re-positioned them to where they should be. 

Now, what to do about that flex in the shelf unit? I measured out the height and width of the assembled unit. Stopping in at Lowe’s I got a piece of 1/4″  (6 mm) plywood (Douglas Fir from Britsh Columbia) cut to the size I needed. But looking at the plywood, it had plugs filling in the knotholes and wouldn’t look quite right as a backboard even if I stained it the same colour as the pine shelf. 

So I took my scrap pine that I had stained/varnished to match the Fjus as a sample, and off to ICI I went to find some wallpaper. Some patterns looked good until I placed my sample against it. It took a few minutes, but I found a pattern where the colours matched fairly well with my wood sample. I bought a roll of Norwall solid vinyl wallcovering (Made in Canada) which comes prepasted and is more durable than regular wallpaper. 

After coating the plywood with two coats of varnish to ensure the wallcovering would adhere well, I set about applying the covering. I have never wallpapered anything before, so I was a bit unsure of it. But after a slight issue of the paste not being wetted enough, I solved it by simply repeating the process over and this time using a brush to wet the plywood before adding the wetted paper. This worked wonderfully! Using 1″ (25 mm) nails I added the finished backboard to the unit. To allow future options, I only nailed the board into the bottom shelf and the uprights, leaving all the other shelves free to be repositioned if needed. 

Not wanting to waste anything, I drilled the rivet out of the cross-brace to make it two separate pieces and screwed one piece into each side of the Fjus to allow further support as well as help prevent anything sliding off the side of the shelf. 

completed project, front view

 

Since completing this I have had a few people ask me to make one for them. Sadly, two weeks after I bought my Fjus, IKEA discontinued it and it is no longer available. It has been replaced by the GORM system, but the GORM uses plank-type shelves with gaps. I much prefer the solid one-piece shelf used on the Fjus. 

All-in-all it was a fairly easy project and made a bland garage shelf into a nice kitchen pantry shelf. 

Thick As Thieves

THICK AS THIEVES

 

 

 

Sitting in a Liverpool pub

Inhaling the scent of ale, sweat, and grannie’s backrub

 

  

Tedious conversation about the weather

And “how’s yer bird, she feeling any better?”

 

  

Tonight, off come the gloves

Twin girls cry out: “Give us another cider, love!”

 

  

Pornographic priestess slurring a Beatles’ song:

“Love Me Do” though the tune’s all wrong;

 

 

Sister Mary’s chanting Hare Krishna;

A shout rises out above the crowd: “Oi, Mista!”

 

  

Mum wags a drunken finger all askew;

And hollers out: “Still thick as thieves those two!”

 

 

I raise aloft my pint of brew

And offer up a hearty “Goo Goo Ga-Choo!”

Safer at war?

Canadians killed in Afghanistan: 131 in 8 years.

 

People in the province of Ontario killed in industrial accidents in 2008: 312.

 

That is a sobering thought when you consider that a worker in Ontario is far more likely to die at work than a Canadian soldier who is working in a war zone!

Becoming An Addict

“Today I will go out and buy a video game system so I can become a video game addict.”

“I want to be an alcoholic, so I will start drinking today.”

“I am going to accept this job so I can become a workaholic.”

　

　

No matter what the addiction, no one intentionally decides to become an addict. The pattern always starts innocently enough: “ok, I will try this…” “ok, I will buy this…” “Ok, I will attempt this…”

At first it is fun, fulfilling, even exhilarating. It is the “buzz” of the alcohol; the “high” of the drug; the thrill of finding something you have searched for; the sense of accomplishment of the first victory; the feeling of acceptance by being part of the group.

Soon the buzz, the high, the thrill wears off. You try it again, but it isn’t quite the same as the first time so you go a little further until you feel it again. Or you’ve mastered the task at hand so that it now becomes routine, and you want to push on to the next level.

The sense of achievement, of reaching higher, of going “to the next level” is a normal part of human nature. It is what breeds invention and improvement. Most people go through the stages mentioned above and manage to have fun, develop, and grow without becoming addicted to what they are doing.

For others, the “need to succeed” is a greater drive. They have to be #1 at whatever they are doing. They feel that if they don’t stay and do the work themselves, either it won’t get done right, or even worse a colleague may do it and get the credit. They need to have a more expensive and rare baseball card. They have to win the gold medal because silver is for losers. They want to show that they can handle more alcohol than the others.

Others find a comfort in shopping and spending; by chasing the blues away by drowning their sorrows; by escaping to alternate reality to cope with everyday living. Most people do these things in moderation – how many shopping malls offer stores, restaurants/bars and movie theatres in the same location to fulfil our cravings?

For the addict, these are all factors that lead them into the addiction. It is a sense of self-worth and accomplishment in a world that seems to be filled with people who are better than they are themselves. It is an escape from a world that seems to be against them; the only joy and comfort they can find. The more they become fixated on these feelings, the more their whole sense of being becomes completely reliant upon the object of their addiction.

In the next segment, I wish to delve into how an addict thinks; how they see the world around them.