Tag: culture

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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.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.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.18 Hospitality. The Indian way.

In India, the hospitality is such that they will invite you to their homes to meet the whole family, offer you a chair to sit on and feed you till your belly becomes round.
If everyone gets two portions, you get four.

You may have to learn to say no at some point. Three dosas are enough but they bring you two more and another fried fish. You can say no. That you are full and satisfied but this does not always work. When in doubt, say yes and eat the whole damn thing.

They will serve you tea.
Yes, it’s caffeinated.
Yes, it’s 9pm on a Tuesday and you usually go to bed by 10pm.
Yes, you will have trouble sleeping.
Just say thank you and drink the whole damn thing.

They will invite you to hang out the next day.
You are in India.
You are here to discover the cultures and immerse yourself in all its ways.
Just say yes.
Show up the day after. Eat more. Learn a few words. Imbibe the cultural intricacies.
Have a few laughs and share your humanity.

As you may have already deciphered, it is now 10pm on a Tuesday. I’ve just eaten for two and drank so much tea. I doubt sleep will be kind tonight.

Tomorrow, Karti will show me how to wear the traditional cotton wrapped around the waist, the Tamil way. I am sorry for not knowing the name of it yet. I usually go about it this way:

I say yes. I have an experience. Then, I learn the names of things.

Flash forward two days later.

The name is longui. I have been taught many Tamil and Malayalam words. Even a few in Indie. I laughed so much these last few days with my adoptive Tamil family, the side of my mouth hurts and my eyes are wrinkled. They sure know how to have a proper hang out!

I went fishing for the first time in ages. Armed with a bamboo stick and flour paste as bait on a lake so dirty I did not dare to put in my feet.
I already hear you asking: did you catch any fish? Yes we did. And yes, we ate them.
Still haven’t gotten sick so far. God willing, I never will.

And so, another day concludes itself in the glorious lands of Tamil Nadu, south India.
I am now aiming northward. I have heard about the musicians and dancers in Rajasthan.
I want to meet, mingle and play. I’ve been here one month so far and still haven’t quenched my thirst for jamming.
I shall keep looking outward,
rooted inward,
banjo in hand and ready to play.
Bobcat on the lookout!

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N.12 Of arts, coffee and longings


Just arrived in Oaxaca city yesterday around 4pm. Found my hostel and went for a stroll into town. I have easily seen more visual art in my evening walk than a whole month in Montréal.

This is a thriving culture. I’ve been told so many times before.
World famous for its food and art. My Mexican friend told me the roots of this place are warrior culture. The inhabitants are fervent towards demonstrations and protests.
I can attest by the sound of a marching band at 8 in the morning, coming from the park nearby.

And so, an ignorant man’s sight seeing begins. I’m slowly going farther and farther away, trying to remember the way back. If I get my cell phone out for the map, I lose.
That’s the game I play.

If I lose, I owe the winner a coffee.
If I win, I get a coffee.

It’s a geographical awareness adventure that usually ends with grinding teeth.
(you know… the coffee…)

I’m in a good mood so I’ll go to a park near where there are lots of passersby and whip out yé ol’ banjo. Bobcat is gon’ try to make some friends. Wish me luck!

One afternoon later…

Ok, so, even though this city is clearly one of a kind, it somehow feels like all other tourist places. The recipe changes but the dish remains the same.

I long for silence and space.
I’m at this point in my life where I want the profundity of quietness to engulf me in her arms.

I long for a fire under the stars
I long to play harmonica in the woods
I long for rivers and mountains

Keep your fancy restaurants and parties.
I’ll grab a few nuts, 2 bananas and head out to the valleys
where the sky and the earth make love daily

I long to be in tune with the rhythms of nature, not the city’s tempo.

Now, that’s my own personal point of view at the moment.
If you dig art and gorgeous food, you’ve got to come to Oaxaca city.
You will not regret it.

As for myself, you’ll find me somewhere in the desert gazing at the galaxies, burning a few twigs and dried grass.

To each his/her own adventure!

P.s: Later that night, I came upon a concert by a master musician by the name of Hector Diaz. A guitarist like no other. I was glued to my chair for 3 hours straight, mesmerized by the sheer grandiosity. That’s one thing cities tend to have in common: Great Musicians.

Gotta give her that
Gotta give her that