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N.32 Of leadership, dance and tables

One of these Sundays, a couple of friends and I went to help our common pal, Phantom, for his dance event. The Tribes War Battle 5.

We do the build up, tear down, video and photography.
I’m on photographer duty.

Dance offers a new challenge that I dig. The dynamic movements push me deep into the present moment in order to capture the illusive ‘’perfect shot’’.

It starts with the children category. Most of them are Phantom’s students.

The ambiance is family friendly and devoid of judgment.
The kids uncover their best moves in front of the public.
For most, it is their first dance battle.

The music rages on and Phantom is the MC.
A little girl ventures on the floor. She twists and turns to the style of brukup.

At the mic, Phantom says ‘’yeah! let’s go! it’s your body. It’s your music!’’

The moment got inscribed into my memory.

A phrase so simple yet so strong.
A true example of positive leadership that empowers children.
It moved me.

That’s the kind of action our world needs.
It’s famished for it.

We all want to be free
We all want to be seen and accepted
We all want to thrive in a sane environment filled with care.

Most of us did not grow up in that type of world.
But, we can offer it to others who follow in our footsteps.
It is a choice we can make.

All in all, I believe true richness is the one we give away freely.
A sort of energy that grows the more we share it.

That’s the type of abundance that interests me truly.

The impact we have on our environment is surprising. None of us is a lonely island in the middle of sea. We are interconnected whether we know it or not.

I’m at this point in my life where I decide to nourish what surrounds me with joy, acceptance, compassion and love. In terms of ‘’shareable richness’’ I have the honor and gratitude to consider myself a very rich man.

All of this reminds me of a story a percussionist friend of mine told me, one late night, after a gig. It goes like this:

‘’I was in the States for skating and one of my bro was a well known DJ in the area.
He gave DJ classes to young guys from the hood.

One night, at the club, the place was packed and my buddy was the headliner.
During his set, he gives the reins to his student so that he makes a couple of beats and soaks up the experience. The kid obviously has talent.

Meanwhile, he comes to hang with us by the side of the stage.

We chill and some guy asks him: ‘’aren’t you afraid he’s going to steal your crowd? Everybody is here for you, you should enjoy it, don’t you think?’’

To which my bro responded
‘’No man, I ain’t afraid. There’s enough food for everybody on the table’’

Sometimes the simplest phrases are those that are most impactful.

‘’There’s enough food for everyone on the table’’
‘’It’s your body. It’s your music’’

I thank you for the positive leadership my friends!
I’ll do my best to give back all those riches.

AHO!

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N.31 In the Mouth of Living

There are some, who, after a long day, go back home for the purpose of staring into a t.v screen. But us, we go into an old church to make contemporary dance and music.

To each his/her own life.

I season Mathie’s arm aerobics with my non-tonal guitar playing. It’s all a question of dynamics, tone and rhythms. Notes are not so important.

Rafa slams the praying kneelers to the ground with fervor. I drag a chair across the floor for its unique squeak quality and Alex drops noise pads of his own making. Christian shouts into the snare drum. Rhythmicality is optional.

The dancers share temporary stories, wordlessly expressed. They express the spaciality of the church, its natural reverb and our nameless music.
The scripted choreography is non-existing.

It’s total freedom.

Devoid of judgments or second thoughts, we thrive on each other’s inspirations.
Within the confines of this evening, there are no creative limitations.

It’s a visceral celebration of our fundamental freedom of being.
Time dissipates in an ocean of sounds and corporality.

For the first edition, I’m there as a photographer. The perfect opportunity to hone my experimental photography. I let the flow of the moment take over.

At the second one, I am standing upright on one of the mass benches. Guitar in hand, I get inspired by impromptu movements that manifests in my line of sight.

A thought passes through me.
‘’I’d do that of my Life, it makes me so happy’’

This is the kind of thing that I love deeply. I couldn’t do any of it outside of Montréal, city of artists.

Well well well, matter of factly, that’s exactly what I am currently doing with friends I appreciate. Life is well tailored.

Good place, good moment in time and good team.

All of it in an old chapel turned into a center for social and cultural organisms.

There are intangible riches in this world.
It’s not with experimental art that I’ll be able to buy a house by the sea but it sure fills my heart with an untamed sense of celebratory gratitude.

How great it is to be alive!

The other day, during a literary quest at the national public library, I stumble upon a stand bearing the name ‘’talk to an elderly for 25 cents’’

An old guy with gray hair is sitting on a stool. Our eyes meet.

‘’What is this?’’ I ask
‘’Well, sit and find out’’ he says.

‘’what’s your name?’’
‘’Hervey, and you?
‘’Simon’’

We discuss anything and everything in between for a moment. I ask him what has been his life filled with.

Hervey is 77 years old. Father of 3.
He trains everyday. He’s been happily married for 48 years.

48 years…

And to think that, myself, I haven’t retained an intimate relationship for more than 9 months. My curiosity pushes me to ask ‘’how does one maintain an intimate relationship sane and thriving for 48 years?’’

‘’It’s quite simple, you’ve got to have three lives: yours, hers and ours’’

He begins to explain that there must be enough similarities and differences between the two for the relation to remain sparkly throughout the years.

He loves sports
She just started the gym, at 77 years old.

He is very social
She prefers books

Both are passionate about cooking
Both were already parents when they met

You can’t be afraid of trying and failing, he tells me. Constant learning keeps you young and happy.

After our exchange, I put a dollar in the donation jar and say
‘’here’s a dollar, that’ll pay for the next person’’

‘’That is one of the most beautiful things to do in this world’’ he says.
‘’Life is made in such a way that giving and helping without conditions always comes back around. And not necessarily in the ways you’d expect. It is bound to happen. I did it all my life, to pay for the next guy and render services without counting. My life has truly been a profound beauty because of it.’’

‘’Thanks Hervey, I needed to hear that today’’

I get up from my seat.
I shake his hand and truck’ on down the road with a smile on my heart.

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N.30 Another Goodbye

I can smell it.
The carcass of whom I used to be.
There’s a lingering. A faint but unmistakable vapor all around. I let it pass.
Old memories resurface. Old ways of being come to the window.
Outside gazing inside.
I hear a tap.
They want to come back in and play but winter is here; no windows shall be opened today.

Last week, I found myself running around trying to make things happen. Pulling a broad array of strings in the hopes of creating a grand tapestry. Just like the old days. Just like the life I left for dead about a year ago.

I recall my time in Kerala. On the roof of where I died. I caress the memory of when all of me came to a stop. That inner voice whispering ‘’aren’t you sick and tired of all these stories?’’

Personal tales of who, why and what we are have a tendency to linger and they hang around the place for a while. On the prowl for an opening. A way to ease back in.
A gift to neverendingly exercise the freedom of choice.

But I come bearing news. Tired of these stories, I choose to live without em.
Emptiness fits me like a well tailored glove.

And so I find myself at Le Verre Bouteille for an evening of musical ‘’carte blanche’’.
Jean Flex on piano, Salomé Perli on violin and Charles Viguerie on sound treatment.

There’s a lot that can be said on the subject of great music, classy lights and a smoke machine. It’s the stuff of dreams. Huffin’ and puffin’ in and out of states of consciousness.

A Freshness imbues the melodies. The tone is warm. The rhythm is slow and intentional.
Tonight is one last goodbye for JeanFlex who goes back to the old land of France on the morrow.

One last gig for the road.

I can’t help but swim into the atmosphere of smoky emotional jazz. I am reminded of the farewells into new beginnings and the rebirths of everyday living.

As weird as this may sound on paper: the realness of this tender sliver of time and space is immensely tangible. I could hold it in my hands if I wanted to.

Standing at the precipice of a blank page, the ink is eager to roll the ball and splanter between the lines drawn by existence.

But, there’s a waiting.
Tonight, I have the honor to be immersed by that in-between space.

A good friend leaves
Another walks in the door

I remain firmly rooted on the bar stool, painting away words of what is, what could be and what may never come to pass.

The tapestry of Life is already so overwhelmingly grandiose, I remember to pay attention to all the gifts that were here first and chase a little less what is just out of reach.

With humility and grace, I am reminded, once again, the greatest of all adventures is the present moment and the gratitude of simply being.

Farewell to you my friend, may the road ahead bequest forth joy and exciting discoveries!

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N.29 Montreal by Night


The cold season is beginning.
Sunset is at 4 p.m.

It’s the perfect time of year for vampires and nightlife lovers who work the next day: night starts at 6 p.m.
However, the show starts at 9 p.m so it’s a shame for your sleep.


The unique sound of the Bonze Trio gives you jitters like too much coffee.
With unshackled creative flow, the band mixes jazz, drum n’ bass, funk, modern music, and smoldering rock.

A trio that, as we say in my language, “goddamn this rocks!.”
Trying to count the time signatures is enough to make your cranium go bald.

Montreal at night is a world where anything is possible.
If the band is good, you can travel across the universe for 20 bucks.

Le Bonze Trio are not only unparalleled university musicians who bounce musical ideas off of each other, but also great friends. You can tell by the jokes that brilliantly fill the gaps between songs.

When winter is in full swing, you have to brave the cold, the slush, and seasonal fatigue to get to the concert hall. You hesitate to leave your house, but once you’re there, you don’t regret it.

Life is short, and I intend to reap the rewards of my Montreal artistic culture.
Without our artists, Montreal’s nightlife could be summed up to “meh.” Without an audience to share their passions with, they might as well stay in their jam space jamming with friends.

Don’t forget to go cheer on and enjoy what’s happening within the walls of our theaters after the sun has set.

If you’re hesitant to go out, do as our artists do in winter: you’ll sleep in February.
Unless you’re in college, in which case you never sleep, but that’s another story.

Please excuse me for a moment, I must put down my pencil in exchange for an intoxicating and energetic dance to the sounds of drum n’ bass playing behind me.

I’ll be back, wait for me!

Well, what had to happen happened.
When you dance too much, you forget to write.
What do you do in that case?
You go back to dancing the next day.

From one universe to another, I find myself in an African trance with DJ Afrofoly and Gotta Lago on percussion.

At the conservatory of music of Montreal, I find myself at an ecstatic dance party.
My camera and pencil are my passes to Montreal’s cultural nightlife.

Between two stiff dance moves, I whip out my camera and capture the heat of the action. Tonight, I’m a picture taking cowboy!

From the balafon and African songs to solidly modern beats,
It’s a blend of ages.

From yesterday to today, music is found in the company of dance.
It is the perfect ambassador of trance.

It’s easier to go far away when a rhythm keeps us firmly rooted.
It’s like a tree. The taller it grows toward the sky, the deeper its roots spread into the ground.

The better the music,
the more passionate the dance.

Well, that’s it. You’ll have to excuse me, I must once again put down my pen and leave you to your business. Sometimes, after a Saturday night dance session that lasts until 11 p.m., the best show in town is going home to sleep.

Ciao amigos!

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N.28 Of bafflements, ignorance and bliss

And so, being the author of my own story, a clean page stares back at me with a playful attitude. There is a palpable energy in the air, I can feel it. The far across the world travels are over for now but the call for adventure still resonates within my heart.

Quite naively, I had envisioned travelling as being a grand transformative experience of fireworks and jawdropping moments. Only to discover that these kinds of stories only came as a spice. A little sprinkle here and there, no more, no less.

What truly took me by surprise is the regular non-spectacular daily life that seemed to be on full throttle everywhere I went.

The local people living their lives were not that different from my travelling day to day.
In a strange way, before my travels, I had been all over the place but while being out there in person, I quietly came back to the only place there will ever be: right here, right now.

I guess you could say it either bubbled up from within or that it hit me in the face;
the undeniability of the truth. No matter where I ramble on to, I am here, now.

You could venture out on saying that my travels ended right there.
Or you could say they just began.
Both are the same, really.

I find language to be confusing when it comes time to share what is of the whole ‘’one’’ life domain. An intellectual dissection of the matter is far from adequate and the wisdom of the heart can only be expressed by imagery or meaningful simplicity.

In the past, I’ve truly enjoyed the zen approach to story telling.
Simple tales, profound meaning.

‘’The black coffee is warm. The cup is white’’

They make no sense if you gloss over them while trying to understand the meaning.
There is no meaning.
Intellectual understanding is overrated.

Life is so mind boggingly vast, interconnected, synchronistic and rich, never shall it fit into a box. Pardon my language but to hell with the boxes. Throw that ol’ dried up shit into the garbage and embrace the infinity of being alive.

I’ve dedicated my life to music and if the need arises, I can explain the nooks and crannies of why I do it. But this only came as a response to the age old question: ‘’what’s your real job?’’

I’ve learned to compassionately respond to a human baffled by the fact that someone may dedicate his or her life to something other than money.

Ignorance is to be handled with care and a great amount of tact. We can either help it blossom into wisdom or it can turn rabid and bite back quite aggressively.

Ignorance is like a wounded, scared and stressed out animal looking to survive.
Compassion trumps all other avenues.

All this to say that, in truth, Music is such a mystery to me, I am beyond clueless about all of it. At this point in my journey, Music and Life are one and the same.
And boy, ain’t that river deep and wide!

Well, I’ll quit my ramblings for now.
I’m sure you’ve got places to be.

Bobcat ‘’The clueless’’ reporting for duty

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N.27 Out on a Stroll

And so, we don’t sleep for long in the grand city of Montreal. I’ve only been back only for a couple of days and it’s about time for a stroll. Montreal is a city that beats to a ceaseless rhythm of more and too fast. If you’re here, get into it and learn to swim the current.

Or else, the place loses its pull, in my opinion.

The cultural life is vast, diverse and forever expanding. There’s always a thing happening somewhere and if you’re not vaccinated for it, you can catch the ‘’fomo’’ easily.
Don’t forget to wash your hands folks!

But most of all, embrace what you can and forget about the rest.

I love the cold season in Montreal. For me, these are the months I gig the most and go out to meet old and new friends on the regular. On this late October evening, first stop is at a vernissage on Marie-Anne at Art Gallery 1040.

My friend Jocelyn Renouf is presenting a series of oil painting portraits.
As he tells me, he does it in the ‘’Alla Prima‘’ style which means the painting is a one sitting adventure. The oil remains fresh throughout and spreads like butter, making the ordeal a fulfillingly organic journey.

As I go around from painting to painting, taking in the craftsmanship, creativity and passion into my heart for further usage, one of them catches my attention more than the rest.

Nadya looks deep into me. As I let myself melt into her eyes, I can’t help but get the feeling that she is about to move and introduce herself to me. It seems as though she is here with me in the room, alive.

She proudly proclaims: ‘’I exist, do you?’’

‘’Ye Nadya, I also exist, thank you for noticing’’


After a little shmoozing with the folks, the clock rings me back to it’s time to head out for the main course of the evening: a music concert at ye ol’ Quai des Brumes.

The venue celebrates its 40th birthday in October. It is one of my favorite places in the city. The music is dandy, the staff is warm and I often randomly meet lots of friends just hanging around the bar after dusk.

Tonight is Dominique Poirier’s album release by the name of ‘’Onomatopée’’.
He rips the accordion like no other, accompanied by a jazz rhythm section and a string quartet. The creativity is tangible and it sure quenches my thirst for some proper live music.

I’ll share with you my little secret. For some of us, going to shows is a regular occurrence. The only way I can economically do that is as an exchange: I take photos and I get in for free.

Hence being at the fulcrum of the greatest place in the world: at a concert while being of service. Oh man, I love my life.

From a ballad reminiscent of old French songs, to modern classical, to liberated jazz, the orchestra moves seamlessly from one musical world to another, brilliantly juggling the transitions.

The talent is undeniable; the waves of sound sweep me away in a photographic trance. Being a musician myself, I can anticipate where I’ll be able to capture what’s known as a “stank face”—that moment when the music is so good that the facial muscles tense up like a steak receiving an excessive electrical shock.


Dominique is one of my favorite musicians in Montreal.

With his unparalleled versatility and contagious passion, it’s always a great pleasure to hear him play and to jam with him occasionally.

He was the first person I’ve ever heard use effects like the wah-wah on an accordion.
It was about time someone thought of it!

From a solo song to a jazz quartet oozing with the ferocity of searching for the next note, to the Bazar Quartet’s modern classical approach, the band moves seamlessly from one form to another, leaving us on the edge of our seats, unsure of what the group’s next iteration will be.

Then comes a time when I stop taking photos. I have enough for now.

I let myself be carried away by the intoxicating musical maelstrom towards another cold season in Montreal. It’s pure pleasure to return at the beginning of winter and immerse myself in yet another unparalleled spectacle.

Bobcat is back, stay tuned for more metropolitan adventures!

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N.26 Friendship

There ain’t nothing like the warmth of friendship after a long journey. Coming back to a place where open arms abound, opportunities are everywhere and the river of life is flowing strong is truly a blessing.

I am in my hometown of Montréal and people keep asking me how hard it is to come back to so-called ‘’reality’’.

Well my friend, have you ever put on a warm glove in the frisky morning air of early winter? Yes, just like that.

I don’t make up many stories in my mind anymore. Wherever I am, I am.
There is no tension. I guess some of us are still missing the point that, wherever we find ourselves, the only place is now. That’s where the party is at and will ever be anyway.

I get this overwhelming feeling that I did not really leave and in a way, I never truly did.
I’ve travelled around only to be in a whole lotta nows. ‘’Now’’ here or ‘’now’’ are kind of the same. As if in one big intemporal bubble, spatiality is just another concept we hold on to in hopes of tying together this inexplicable experience we named reality.

Pardon my roaming around with words. Let’s not make up too many stories about freedom and the art of living. There’s much more to learn from roasting a toast in the morning than a few written words on a page.

Back to the subject at hand: friendship.

To me, it is one of the greatest riches that any man, woman and non-binary peeps can ever be given. I’ve heard, many times before, that it’s hard to get one true friend. I never really got that saying.

It’s as if a farmer would plant seeds in only a few places because he is afraid that all other places won’t bear fruit and expects to sow a garden that encompasses the whole field come the end of summer.

As I am concerned, I’m no hesitant farmer.
I’ve thrown seeds of friendship up in the air, given whole bags of kinship at first glance and considered people as if they were life long friends from the start.

Life’s too short to hold out on love. One day, when the reaper’s taxi comes at the door, we may regret not sharing enough.

Don’t you want to come home to a luscious garden filled with delicious fruits? Or better yet, don’t you want the future generation to rise in an environment full of grace?

I sure do.

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N.25 The Enigma of Return

And so it goes, my grand travel adventure comes to a conclusion amidst a peculiar temporal fluidity. As if I’d never left, I find myself in the same places being a whole other man.

My vision is fresh and my choices are now imbued with a freedom from ancient concepts.

I’m rediscovering the daily.

The same drop of water from my old apartment’s water faucet taps to the same rhythm, the endless roadworks and the same passerbys with fleeing eyes at the sight of my huge smile.

I’m not sure exactly what I’ve done for this but I am coming back to Montréal in an ocean of love. I am welcomed as a great guest and I’m getting seduced to get back into the city’s thriving cultural life.

The friendships that bloom in my existence are one of the grandest riches that a man can ever be given. I am truly moved.

I am back in town only to find a large garden. I do not recall planting so many flowers.
Maybe they’ve sowed themselves?

It’s quite unique to roam around in the city’s streets in the fall to imbibe the atmosphere. I’m playing the game of smile, salute and look in the eyes.

The people seem tired and thrown off by a stranger’s smile.
I have hopes to find reciprocity of joy in the coming days.

And so, I find myself in my town, back in Québec’s culture, tango dancing with the mysteries of what shall present itself as a new life. I have so many friends to see, it’ll take me at least a month to get through them all.

My travels have brought me this trait that I now choose joy in my heart irrespective of what’s happening outside of me.

We have the freedom to create our internal environment and to ascribe meaning or not to the events of our lives.

The human experience is a malleable clay. By our actions, we can mold it the way we choose.

With this newfound freedom, I’m writing on the balcony warmed by the morning sun.
Here I am, back into Quebec’s day to day.

I take a deep breath and I tell myself:

‘’It’s good to be alive’’

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n.24 Came in as a beggar, left as a King


This all seems surreal.
In my experience, I left no more than five weeks ago but it’s been 7 months already.

Today marks the day of my departure from the land of India. I am now heading home for the autumn season with a renewed sense of enthusiasm and gratitude.

Last night, I caught myself laughing profusely. Somehow, none of it makes any dog on sense. Like a passing dream, I am waking up wondering what the hell just happened.

A snap of the finger and boom: 7 months have vanished into thin air.
Just the other day, it seems I was hitting the stage in my hometown of Montréal to play feverish funk music with my friends.

Just the other day, I was in my twenties, hitting up jam sessions all around town like an addict.

Just the other day, I was playing in the woods with my childhood friends.

Just the other day, I was 8 years old with a mind full of dreams and the naïve heart of a child.

As strange as it may seem, I can’t truly remember how I got here in the first place.
All of it went by so fast.

My godamn life passed in a blink of an eye. In a moment, I’ll be 50. In another, 80 and grey haired. Then I’ll be gone: adventure finished, going back to the cosmos.

While in Pachaloor, in Kerala, something I can’t truly explain happened.
As I was sitting on the roof, filled with thoughts, a voice came over and said:
‘’aren’t you sick and tired of all the petty stories?’’

I couldn’t help but go silent.
All the ceaseless crap going on in my mind had no relevance whatsoever to living Life.
All the stories just vanished and I was left with a quiet nothingness.

From then on, days went by in seconds, weeks into hours and a full three months just poofed in the air. As I am now here in an hotel room waiting for my flight, I can’t help but go back to that place of ‘’what the hell just happened?’’

How can time be so slippery?

This trip has been the death of me. I buried myself in India. The old Simon is gone and I am here being both profoundly lost and filled with a deep sense of clarity.

All of it seems too hard to explain.
Words can only point the way and I find myself in a pathless meadow.

This journey has been such a strong cup of humility and surprises. I thought I would be helping people but I am the one who’s been given everything without asking.
I’ve made lifelong friends with the locals and boy what an adventure this all has been.

I came out here as a beggar, thinking the world to be his.
I am leaving as a king, knowing to own nothing but himself.

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N.23 ”A new Life”


As my time in Kerala comes to a close, I breathe in the moment.
Perched atop my home for the last three months, surrounded by jungle, blanketed by the bright blue sky above and the sounds of the sea in the distance, here I am once more.

Oh, how a place can change you.
I come here every morning and evening these days. There’s a silence here that nourishes me deeply. Somehow, the grandiosity of my surroundings helps me gain a fresh perspective.

I could never have known or planned my stay here. It seems to have happened by virtue of fate. When Life mingles with your affairs and sets a course tailored just for you, it may be the right time to throw away your petty plans and hop on that ride.

Who knows who you shall be coming out the other end?

As for myself, my old stories are now dead. My old self has been buried in Kerala. From my experience, there is no mistaking it: a new life’s beginning.

It’s hard to put into words what is so intimate and visceral. Birthed out of silence, I am left wordless in the face of the immensity of living.

I’ve had the privilege to make lifelong friendships. I now breathe more deeply and my walk is tall and proud. I’ve found great dignity in the company of my new brother Abdul. Both the poorest and the richest man I’ve ever encountered.

The sometimes confusing ways of Indian culture has left me more accepting of what is. I do not feel the need to label things anymore. It all seems so petty to try to catch a morsel of the river of life going full throttle in order to give it a name, therefore feeling safe in return.

In a short time, I’ll be on a plane bound for Sri Lanka. I’ve been longing to swim in the sea ever since my stay in Mexico, a few months back.

Now’s the time to satisfy that desire.

I do not know where this adventure will bring me but here I am, firmly rooted in the present with an open heart and mind.

Let’s see what happens next, shall we?