andrewfrank.ca

I wrote a story for you, but it was all wrong.
I sung a song for you, but the words didn’t match.
I painted a picture of you, but it was all smudged.
My mind’s eye had a mind of its own.

I drifted from you, but I trusted my gut.
I tried to hold your hand, but I could only feel it half.
I listened to your story, but it came out one ear.
I tried to pull my bootstraps up, but they had rotted away, and I thought it would all fall away.

But then I remembered love, and I realized I wasn’t wearing boots at all, and I went and smelled the butterfly bush, and there was one flower left from all the times before, and its scent was faded, but it was still enough to wake me up. Enough for a second chance.

I just needed to blow things up.

And when the dust that was never really there had settled,
you were unspeakably beautiful.

Since revamping my site and choosing to publish content on a more frequent basis, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the value of social media…actually that’s not true…I’ve spent more time feeling about the value of social media. Seeing folks visit from across the country, sparking conversations and building new understandings and a sense of community with old friends and acquaintances, using posts to organize and test out thoughts and feelings about life stories, questions, news, “art” and whatever else tickles my fancy (apologies for that expression) – all of it has been an exercise in feeling.

One of the biggest criticisms of blogs and other forms of social media is that everything they do is “meta,” that is, after the fact, or in abstraction to some primary piece of news or information. Because of this initial modus operandi (historically and today a lot of blogs still rely on mainstream news to spark their conversations), the mainstream media like to claim (especially when their own relevance is questioned) to be the lifeblood of the “bloggosphere.” They caution that the death of newspapers and traditional media outlets will cause social media to dry-up. I’m not sure that’s true.

I think we all have some sense that mainstream news is often vacuous – a race to report every societal “car crash” in the most graphic terms as quickly as possible before finding the next one, first. Ambulance chasers etc. A quick example: Yesterday I was on the bus and one of the local news radio stations had a story about 7 people being found dead in a mobile home in the southern U.S. state of Georgia. No context, nothing. Great. Thank you. My life and understanding of the world has been greatly enriched. Now I know it’s possible for 7 people to be found dead in a mobile home, in the state of Georgia. God forbid we should actually connect any dots, attempting to explain why this happened. The same holds true for that recent story about the reality TV show participant who murdered his ex-wife before hanging himself in a hotel room in B.C. Any chance the mainstream media entertained a conversation about mental health, or obsessional jealousy? It’s not in their DNA to do so (and while there’s an argument that perhaps it doesn’t need to be, the fact that their license to operate depends on access to public airwaves points to the possibility that as a society we could ask for something more), but that’s also why they’re becoming increasingly irrelevant.

Reflection has become an end in itself. Demand is at an all time high. As an end in itself, the primary news on which it is predicated is far less important. Fodder for reflection can come from first person experience, second-hand anecdotes, stories from organizations and businesses dealing directly with social issues and transactions, and various other forms of media and sources of information. We don’t lack primary news as a society…it’s happening all the time, it’s what life is. What we’re lacking is the means to reflect, to not just make sense of our world, but to make new meaning that makes the world a better place. That’s where the feeling part of social media comes in, and that’s where I see its value.

The loss of traditional media reporting should concern us as much as the loss of any other stream of social information, but it’s not critical.

I’ll try and offer more reflection as I continue to feel my way through this new medium.

In 1942 my nana, Isabelle Christie MacNaughton (“Buddie” to her friends), published a book of poems titled, “Wood Fires.” Printed by the local Chronicle Publishing Company (home of the local newspaper, “The Oliver Chronicle”) the book’s proceeds went to the Red Cross during World War II.

Apart from loving the work because it’s my nana’s words and an important part of our family history and mythology, I love it because it’s a beautiful window into the life of a young woman growing up in the South Okanagan. The poems would have been written primarily at the Grey Sage Ranch, just south of Okanagan Falls in the 1930′s and 40′s, and they are very much place-based and read like a beautifully rendered painting of an Okanagan hill side. The prose is often innocent, naive, longing, whimsical and sweet. It is also mournful, some being written following the death of my nana’s brother, Bob, who was shot down during a bombing run over Germany. In short it is from a different time and place, but one I still recognize whenever I visit home.

The book’s unabashed love affair with the wilderness, and the prospect of sharing that love with a kindred spirit, foreshadowed my nana’s marriage to my grandad, Carleton MacNaughton, a local naturalist who was just as in love with the hills and critters as she was. The life stories they wrote together brought the hills to life for me, a child of the 80′s and early 90′s, and sparked my own curiosity and love for nature.

As part of this site’s “poetry” section, I’m planning to republish my nana’s poems here in the coming weeks and months, bringing a little slice of early Okanagan life, as interpreted by Buddie MacNaughton, to the digital age.

The first poem shares the book’s title, “Wood Fires.”

Wood Fires

All the singing fire spirits,
Gypsies of the sun,
Play upon our kindly hearth
When the day is done—

The pine song and alder son,
The wind song and rain,
Gathered through the laughing years
Sound for us again.

Trees have lived in loveliness,
How could they but bring
Happiness that’s longing still
In a heart to sing?

Another installment in the “It’s what’s for dinner” series of posts.

We’ve probably all heard of hemp seeds and snickered – dirty hippies, expensive health food stores, patchouli etc.

When my local grocer offered me a free sample a few months ago, I laughed, “What am I going to do with hempseeds, besides make you rich?” I looked at the sample to humor him and was about to hand it back when the nutrition information caught my eye: 4 tbsp = 22 grams of protein and 40% of your daily recommended iron intake. Wait a second. That’s not bad…in fact that’s pretty darn good (especially with the iron…if you’re on a low or no meat diet, iron is something you need to consciously consume everyday).

I’m a notorious cheap skate and I can’t remember why, but $2 is a number that sticks in my head as being a good price for a serving of protein (you’ll pay a heck of a lot more for chicken, beef or fish). The one pound bags my grocer was selling were going for $13 a piece. Seems pricey until you do the math: Each bag has 7.5 servings of protein which means each serving costs roughly $1.75. Cha-ching. But there’s more.

SUPERFOOD

Excited about the possibilites of incorporating hemp seed hearts into my diet, I did some background reading and I learned some pretty incredible things:

A Complete Protein – Hemp is one of the few plant proteins that is complete – that means it contains all of your essential amino acids – the basic building blocks of protein. Amino acids also play a key role in general biochemistry, and a deficiency can have serious health impacts.

No Pesticides or Herbicides – Hemp is a fast growing hardy plant that does not require pesticides or herbicides. For all intensive purposes the crop is organic (which is why I feel comfortable not buying “organic” hemp seeds).

Canadian and Sustainable – Hemp is grown right here on the Canadian prairies. Nice and close, and a crop that yields not only nutritious seeds, but also fibres for everything from paper making to hemp clothing. Using hemp as an alternative fibre and food source takes pressure off our forests and replaces more environmentally destructive forms of protein production such as the meat industry, where enormous fossil fuel inputs are required (growing the grain to feed animals in the first place) not to mention the very real climate change impacts of the methane released when cows pass gas (cows in the U.S. account for 20% of methane emissions in that country, and methane lives in our atmosphere 20 times as long as carbon dioxide).

Omega O-Mazing – When it comes to getting your Omega’s, hemp is through the roof. Lot’s of Omega 3′s and 6′s to keep your heart and brain happy and healthy.

As for actually consuming hemp seed hearts, they are TASTY! A really nice nutty flavour (I eat them right out of the bag with a spoon after a workout). My favourite modus operandi these days is making a pancake and covering it with 4 tbsp of hemp seeds, blueberries and maple syrup…it’s killer and will keep you going strong until lunch.

Hemp seed hearts. They’re what’s for dinner.

Many years ago my ma gave me a framed picture of this tree with an inspirational Thoreau quote that read, “If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” It’s a picture that has always been with me (back and forth to school in Toronto and carefully packed away for life’s many moves) and that has always grounded and inspired me.

Blinded by its far away beauty, I never bothered to read the back of the frame to find out where it was taken. Well, this summer, just before I went on a vacation to Utah it occurred to me that the pictures of red Navajo sandstone that I had seen while planning our trip reminded me of the picture. With a new found interest for the picture’s origin, I flipped it over and guess what? The picture was taken in Bryce Canyon, the first stop on our trip.

Long story short, we decided to go looking for the tree (was it still standing? was it tucked away in a remote side canyon?). We knew the picture was taken on a trail called “Navajo Loop,” and after a beautiful afternoon of hiking in the sun and the rain, the canyon walls started to get familiar. Finally, in the pouring rain, we turned a corner and there it was…my tree. Wow. Walked up to it and gave it a big hug. I felt such gratitude for that old beauty and the role it had played (and continues to play) in realizing my own dreams.

Here’s to following dreams and hugging trees.

I recently started a boxing routine with the Warriors Boxing club in Vancouver. I’m not planning to actually compete (brain damage and hurting someone else freak me out), but it has been very rewarding to find out how hard I punch.

In reflecting on why I enjoy the training so much (something I’ve been told is a “guy thing”) I think it has something to do with the fact that it’s very easy to go through life without knowing how hard you punch. It’s a metaphor we can apply to lots of things in life where we don’t really know our true mettle. It’s that disconnect between the status quo and a more primitive part of ourselves that makes stories like Fight Club so successful, and it’s why I can watch various fight scenes in movies, or boxing on TV, with a mix of enjoyment and discomfort – enjoyment for the raw connection and exertion of will – and discomfort with the physical violence or abuse of power.

I’m not condoning violence here, but I am encouraging exploration or consideration of more primitive parts of ourselves, not properly exercised and perhaps manifested in a passive aggressive fashion in other parts of our lives. As humans we have a desire for ritual (the reason professional sports has legions of fans), and I think finding healthy outlets to exercise that desire (and ourselves) is a great thing.

Here’s a video redux of two movie “fights” I’ve recently watched:

I really like Mackerel, and I think you should eat it. Here’s why:

Sustainability – Mackerel is one of the few fisheries out there that’s considered largely sustainable by folks like the Marine Stewardship Council. In spite of ever rising fish quotas, these little beauties are prolific. Why not give our salmon and tuna stocks (many collapsing or on the brink) a rest?

Low Mercury – As a smaller fish, mercury bio-accumulates much less than in larger species like Tuna. Mercury will make you go crazy…why not go crazy for Mackerel instead?

Tasty - This fish is not “fishy.” It’s the next chicken of the sea (especially if Tuna disappear). I eat this stuff in tins like it’s going out of style…no bones (if there are any, they’re so tiny and soft I’ve never noticed them). It doesn’t have to be tinned though, Mackerel can be sexy too. Look for “Saba” at your sushi restaurant and enjoy. Kingyo, in Vancouver, has a particularly killer box roll made with blow-torched Mackerel that will make you cry, and Zipang on Main Street, has delicious Saba nigiri – a nice oily and slightly more “oceanic” taste vs. cooked.

Nutritious! -  High in Omega 3′s, protein and vitamins D and B-12.

Cheap & Quick - Whether it’s on a sushi menu or a quick tin in your packed lunch, Mackerel is cheap and quick. Since I started boxing it has been my go to source of quick and easy protein, and my local grocer stocks a lot more of it (between my roomates and I, we’ve created dependable demand).

Mackerel. It’s what’s for dinner.

I don’t know if it’s the heat of summer, or the few pages of “Tribes” I’ve been reading (hat tip to the inimitable Kevin Tom), but dammit we’re opening this sucker up.

I’ve been feeling the need to crank out some content and up my creative output for a while now and I’m hoping that a pretty place to publish it and have others engage with it more freely might make that hope a recurring reality.

I may even join Twitter. Yeah, it’s been hot.

A sturdy heart beat and a silk-scarved breast
are the safest place in the world to rest,
a weary head.

And a low hushed voice and sweet soft touch
come effortless, but they mean so much,
to me. Read the rest of this entry »

I was recently inspired to post some poetry for the first time (new and old) after reading Emerson’s thinking on the role of poetry as a form of ecological and spiritual interpretation. To get the very cool gist of what he was saying, read the Cliff’s Notes treatment of his essay, “The Poet,” here.

Feedback, as always is very welcome. Let me know if something resonates. Read the rest of this entry »