Monday Matters

I am changing the style and content of my blog, so that it is more of a resource for motivated individuals. I will be focusing on a specific format and content, and publishing every Monday.

I am a driven individual with a growth mind set, and continually using myself as a guinea pig in a myriad of areas, food, supplements, outdoor equipment, exercise, breath work, meditation, education, philosophy and leadership to name a few. I have being using the term, for the next ten years of my life “The Uber Decade”, as I want to maximize the next ten years of my life to their fullest capacity.

With my blog, I figure that I can do the initial grunt work of the research (another passion), give you an overview of my results, and you can take it from there. Please also ask questions. I do not believe or support dogma, and welcome your input. There are many ways to arrive, and the purpose of the journey for myself, is to build community along the way, and have all of us grow together.

The name Monday Matters, is in reference that Monday is the first day of the week, and sets the tone for the rest of your week. Very similar to an excellent morning routine, setting you up for success in the rest of your day.

The structure of my blog will cover a three topic sequence:

1. A quote for the week. Something that resonates with the tone of the week, and something to be pondered and chewed on, during the course of the week.

2. A specific contribution to advancing your personal state of being to a higher level on the topics of mind, body, spirit, finances, or the physical realm. An example of this would be “what do I eat in the morning to maximize my performance during the day”, which includes a weight work out, road ride, and a full day teaching, or guiding.

3. What book am I reading at the moment, and some of my key take aways, condensed. I am a voracious reader, and as a minimum, read one book a week. This will be a resource for you, and a quick overview as to whether the book resonates. I almost exclusively read non-fiction, on such topics as spirituality, men, the outdoors, leadership, biographies, personal development, wild spaces, etc.

   I am excited for the journey, building community as I mentioned, and being of service to all that may want to be a part of this process with myself.

A poem from the 2019 Colorado Vision Quest

A Quest Poem

We met in Salida, to go on our Quest, nine men, not sure what to expect, but we will give it our best.

Some are here to explore self, and the demons incurred, others the past, and the light that was blurred.

Others were happy with where they were at, yet still wanting more, nothing wrong with that.

To be a man of honour, noble and true, that was our calling, and also our due.

The weather was a mixture of sun, rain, clouds and blue sky, just enough to challenge, not enough to die.

Some of us were looking for answers for a father whose love we could not deny, but at other times, were we good enough in that man’s eye.

These were some of the questions to which we wanted answers as we made our place in Nature, our eyes, hearts and souls open wide, to the beauty of raven, and to find our own stride.

We called to the moon, we rattled to the earth, we drank liquid sunshine, to quench our burning thirst, that seemed never ending, as we danced with ego, until it would burst.

We salivated through our dreams of the dark nights of the soul, for the morsels of food, not for our bellies, but to our spirits cries of hunger, and answers to questions of soul.

As we made our way along our path of ridge top, valley, spirit and soul, we knew that this was our last night, so we would have to be bold, though more likely, we would only be cold.

We danced, we sang, we laughed, and we cried, taunting the night skies, and our dreams with our sighs.

The stars cast a glow in the heavens above, and our hearts were with beauty, and appreciation, towards those that we love.

Love for ourselves, our brothers, lovers and friends, did we pour out our demons and try to make amends.

And as the long night of the soul, began to lighten in the East, we looked forward to return and the immovable feast. Not to the feast of food, love and support, but to the men that had nurtured, and never did thwart.

The Quest draws near its closure of beginning and end, to my soul and spirit I am beginning to mend.

Where do I go from here is the question that burns in my belly, of being and soul, but not until incorporation will I ever be whole.

Bruce Wilson June 2019

What's in a picture

I have often heard in my life that “ a picture is worth a thousand words”.

I had a rather significant birthday a while back, and I wanted to do something to really honour the moment, and the transition of my life. Something that was going to be with me as a constant reminder, and an inspiration. So I did what I am sure many before me have done, I got a tattoo.

For years prior to this moment I had been drawing different sketches on my arm, to get a sense, a feel, and to answer the question in my mind, “do I really want this forever”? It seems that the answer was yes.

The Two Roads. The Lakota Sioux I have been told ,believe that there are two roads in life, the Red Road and the Black Road. “There are many roads in life, but there are two that are important; the Red Road and the Black Road. They represent good and bad in every one’s life. It’s the two choices people have to make frequently in life. The Red Road is the good way, the good side, and the right choice. It is a road that is difficult with dangers and obstacles that are hard to travel on. The Black Road is the bad way, the bad side, and the wrong choice. The Black Road is wide and easy to travel. The Red Road and the Black Road appear in our lives not as roads, but as the personifications of right and wrong, good and bad, light and dark.

The Sword. “The Sword Symbolizes The Mind. The Mind dissects both sides of an issue until the basic fact (Truth) is revealed. We use the term "double-edged sword" as a metaphor when referring to the rewards and risks we must Weigh in our Decision making processes. The sword also symbolizes strength, and being the Sovereign (King), in our Inner Kingdom, in control of our Warrior, Lover and Magician.

Integrity. The state of being whole or undivided, and being true to one’s unique path in life. “following your moral or ethical convictions and doing the right thing in all circumstances, even if no one is watching you. Having integrity means you are true to yourself and would do nothing that demeans or dishonours you.

The Mountains. “The mountain is thought to contain divine inspiration, and it is the focus of pilgrimages of transcendence and spiritual elevation. ... It symbolizes constancy, permanence, motionlessness, and its peak spiritually signifies the state of absolute consciousness”. Also for myself it symbolizes, connection to nature as source, real truth, and being a part of something bigger than myself.

So, when ever I look to my right arm, my dominate arm in life, I see each of these representations of meaning for myself, and from there I find inspiration, direction and meaning.

Two Journeys - Part 3

As I walked back to my campsite, I tried to talk myself into going. I was only one hour behind schedule. For a few isolated moments, I thought I might try. But I didn’t. Instead, I packed my few remaining possessions, and with a heavy heart, pushed my kayak into the ocean. I was depressed. My body felt tired, and my spirit weak, and that I had failed at something that I really wanted to do. Or so I thought.

I slowly retraced my path of yesterday, up and around the small point, beaching at a sandy cove, where I spent the next forty minutes walking, looking for glass balls, wondering why I didn’t go? I stopped again at a rocky beach, just south of Burdwood Bay and walked. Bottles, plastic, Styrofoam fishnet floats, jetsam of our disposable society. But no glass ball.

I made my way around another point, and once again stopped at a beach, to explore the old cabin I had seen the day before. Oil drums, tattered blue tarps, plastic, garbage, and a sense of decay and hopelessness. And walking amongst the ruins of the cabin I could feel the decay of a society focused on a battle against these wild places.

A battle of desperation, anger and fear. A fear of what we don’t understand, a fear of what lives in the dark, when we turn out the lights of civilization. I didn’t go back to the big beach where I was the last time. Instead I found a smaller beach. Protected. I found the perfect nook, in the trees, to put up my tarp, and tent. I built a small fire. I took off all of my clothes and sat in the elusive sun. It felt good on my skin. Warming. Safe.

I set up the rest of my camp and then crawled into my sleeping bag and began to read. And as I read, I began to cry. I don’t know why I cried, but I cried soul-wrenching sobs that blinded my eyes with tears. I cried so hard my stomach hurt, and it was difficult to breath. I cried for release, but it didn’t come, and then I slept. When I awoke, I realized that the ocean and the wind had given me this day to continue my journey.

A man, a kayak, a time schedule, twenty miles in six hours, and I will be there. And I would have, yet I wouldn’t. I would have been pushing by the surface, rushing, focused, busy. I was ready for this journey physically, but inside as to who I am, I wasn’t ready at all. Refection, thought. Light captured in a broken shard of glass, lying on the beach. Illumination. Awareness. It is the life journeys that are the most difficult

Two Journeys - Part 2

Day three of ten days. I am scared deep within myself. Not only of what lies ahead of me on this paddling trip, but scared of the unknown that dwells within me. Even though I am safely camped, I have to keep my jaws tightly clenched, so as not to scream out, why am I here, alone? I would not be where I am on this journey by kayak, my neighbour the indifferent Pacific, if I hadn’t chosen to be here. My choice, the ocean does not care. Do I know this for sure?

 Perhaps that is what terrifies me the most. The fact that I am so insignificant, and it is only with the ocean’s benign benevolence that I will safely pass through this place. Tofino, and the people that I know, seem so far away at this moment. There is only this moment.

 The whispered caress of the surf washing the sandy shoreline trickles through my consciousness, a gentle tugging at my primal instincts. The call of the oyster catcher as she watches over her young. The cries of the eagles as they feed on the carcass of a decomposing seal, a hundred feet away from me. Life goes on all around me. With a casualness that does not include me. I have no significance in this moment, other than I am an intrusion, a disturbance. As a species, I have chosen to not be a part of this mosaic. This tapestry of life energy. This reality.

 The dawn of day seven, and the apex of my trip. Estevan Point. A meeting of liquid viscosity, and rigid protrudence. A dance that has been played out repeatedly through the ages of time. Rigid versus yielding. Soft versus hard. Jutting and defying rock, at times, furious sea. Dominance and submission. Place of balance. A place of tragic human history. Reminders the scattered corpses of ships, preserved along the ocean’s floor. A place of wildlife and solitude.

Languid and undulating kelp, swaying to the melody of the moment. A remote windswept place. A place where every tree speaks a story with its gnarled and twisted trunk. The anger and the fury of every storm imprinted in its bark and stunted limbs. A place of wisdom, clarity and truth. Human beings do not live here, they only pass through, quickly, fearful. The ocean reigns master, we can only respond to her moods. We have chosen not to. Our only defiance, the blinking of a solitary light, from the lighthouse, warning others to stay away.

I slept badly, fading in and out of consciousness, with no real rest. Disturbed. Anxious. I walked up to the rock outcropping, by the eagle’s nest and scanned the waters ahead for my trip; the skies were dark, the clouds full, and a little intimidating.