Happy Samhain Everyone

I live in a truly amazing town. On any day, I can hear any one of dozens of languages spoken. With it, I also catch wind of several new year's celebrations. There's our own western European calendar that starts on Jan 1. After that, many other folks who have found their way to Toronto celebrate their new year too.

Today is one of those new years. What we now know as Hallowe'en was once called Samhain (pronounced as sa-wain), the Celtic New Year. The Celts believed that the veil separating the everyday mortal world from the spirit world was thinnest after the harvest, and winter began setting in. It's an auspicious time to communicate with all the weirdness that lurks beneath the surface, and deal with it effectively. Of course we all know that the Christians kinda borrowed the original pagan notions, and made November 1 their All Saints Day. I suppose it is respectful to the older traditions to recycle the intent of the holiday rather than obliterate it.

I've always enjoyed Hallowe'en for the merriment and all the sweet stuff. Perhaps a little less of the sweet stuff as I get older, but hey, we can all use some merriment. And I don't mind the idea that modern pagans have tried to reconstitute the ancient Celtic traditions either. We'll never know exactly how the Celts really brought in the new year, but why not tip our hat to a culture that covered all of Europe well before the Greeks and Romans came along. It seems to me that a culture that ancient deserves its own new year too.

With that, I'd like to wish everyone a happy Samhain, and a prosperous new year. Make sure there are no demons in your life. You can get rid of them by disguising yourself and running around like an eejit to frighten them off.

Another tropical flower from the ruins at Tulum. The weather here in Toronto is turning cool, and my thoughts keep drifting back to the Riviera Maya.  

Baby Needs New Shoes

Grendel, PJ and I wandered over to the pet shop to buy some doggy boots. It's getting chilly at night when I walk the little fugger, and his paws get a bit cold. As well, the snow is coming, and with it, the road salt. It's best to be prepared for the Canadian winter, especially when you have a dog with a tropical pedigree.

We all had a good laugh (except for Grendel) when the boots were on. The wee canine commenced to high step and kick in an attempt to get these new annoyances off. Grendel was quite a site with his legs going in every direction. The soundtrack will feature three possible tunes:"These Boots Are Made For Walking", "Walk This Way", or "Walking The Dog." This behavior is so ridiculous, that I will do my utmost to get it on video for everyone.

I'm only 35% sketchy. I think that's a good thing.

Your Sketchiness Factor

You are 35% Sketchy

How Sketchy Are You?

Subconscious Mind Collective Grind

Most of my friends know that I'm pretty dedicated when it comes to playing my sax. It's been an almost weekly event for the last 13 years with a brief sabbatical to play scrabble when Peach was ill. I suspect that after that length of time, most people would get pretty bored with the same thing week in and week out. Not me.

It's something that keeps getting better all the time. The variety of material is still a lot of the same stuff, but there are always a few new numbers to replace some of the tired old tunes that we've abused for a bit too long. What does vary is the chemistry and interaction that we have as a group. We're assembling something where the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts.

We're an unconventional sounding group because our instrumentation is a bit odd. What immediately sets our band apart is the pair of djembe players instead of a standard kit drummer. Sass and Sue hold it all together. The best part of this arrangement is that the two hand drummers have no choice but to invent something new to do, because it's impossible for them to replicate the sound of a drum kit. The ground rules are instantly thrown out the window. It gets better.

Every rock band usually has a bitchen geetarist, and that's my pal EM. We've been jamming since I met him 20 or 21 years ago. On and off, he's been the most frequent guitarist in the same room as me. The rapport that he and I have is pretty incredible. We're both able to read each other pretty closely, and it's like a little puzzle to make something up that fits what the other is doing. The two of us know a whole bunch of tunes, and we like to rearrange everything ex tempore.

The last member of the quintet is Lari. He plays the electric bass. He's got a great ear that serves him well. He's not a really technically oriented player, but he always manages to think up a part that keeps the whole thing grounded and solid. He usually plays more guitar, but he keeps getting better all the time on the bass. Between his offbeat humour and his playing, he makes sure no one is at a loss.

The current edition of the band has been together over two years now, and this particular group has something that I've never had in a lot of other musical situations. There's a kind of chemistry that we've got that none of the other bands I've been in have had. Maybe I'm stooping to superlatives, but they're worth using. It's really that good. The subconscious mind is always working on the things we encounter, and the collective mind takes over when we get started every Thursday evening. The quality of the sound we produce seems to get better every week, and it seems that everyone puts their utmost into it.

I think I'd lose my grip if I didn't jam every week, and the only thing that could improve the situation would be having Lividviv around to augment the racket. Rock and roll will never die. It will just need to quit drinking so much and get some occasional fresh air.

Long live Thursdays.

Bright sun and no shades. Here are the two macaws on the job, helping fleece the gringo and take his hard earned pesos in exchange for some contrived photos. I was rather amazed at how gentle these birds were. They both enjoyed pulling my hair a bit with their beaks, but they were otherwise on their best behaviour.  

I couldn't say it better myself. This year's vacation was wonderful.  

The Caribbean Sea looking east towards Cuba 250 miles away.  

Five books, lots of cerveza, a nice suntan, and an excursion to the Mayan ruins of Tulum, all starting from my central headquarters at Bahia Principe Tulum.  

These pretty macaws were on staff at the resort. Some humans made the rounds and took photographs with the guests that you could purchase for a few pesos. I have a couple taken myself. The scanner isn't hooked up, so you'll have to be content with my own photograph. The macaws were quite docile and didn't balk at being handled by anyone. Normally I'd be concerned about having all 10 fingers after handling a bird with a beak like that, but not in this case.

Part of the waiter's duties at the Mexican restaurant is to humiliate the guests with these garishly decorated sombreros. That and the wicked shot of tecquila I had a few seconds before this picture was taken made the cerveza go down quite nicely. Dos Equis Por Favor.  

Some Mexican plant porn. This lovely flower was growing at Tulum. I think it's a gardenia, but I'm not a botanist or a gardener, so what do I know? 

Keep Breathing or Drop Dead

During my high school days, my choral music teacher mentioned that there were people out there who taught breathing. All of us in the class thought he was a little bit weird at the best of times, and promptly dismissed this information. We all figured that we were breathing already, and didn't need the expertise of professionals to help out. After all, none of us were collapsing and gasping for want of breath. Our lungs worked just fine as far as we could tell. Our teacher was always a little bit out in left field, and a lot of what he said was considered nonsense. Despite this, his statement stuck in the back of my mind for some reason.

Little did I realize that over 25 years later I would actually meet one of these experts and become enthralled with breathwork. As a lot of you may know, my pal Sassinak is a pilates teacher. She introduced me to the concepts of coordinating movement with breath when she took me on as her guinea pig during her teacher training. It has been a while since Sassinak has given me a pilates class, but that hasn't stopped me from pursuing it on my own. I found Sass' teachers, and have fallen in with them in a big way. One of the women who taught Sassinak is an eastern European who runs her own studio in the west end of town. Not only does she teach pilates, but she also teaches classes with a focus on breathwork. An eccentric music teacher from my distant past has led me full circle to an eccentric body and breathwork teacher in the present day.

Consider this: since I started pilates three years ago I've had the pleasure of improving my fitness level by a considerable amount. I've also suffered from perhaps one cold in the past three years. My backaches have all but vanished. I have gone from being sidelined one or two days per month with a screwed up back to a minor twinge once in a while that doesn't last for more than a few minutes. As a musician, my ability to sing and play my horn has improved by a noticeable amount. I no longer have to gasp for air at the end of a particularly ornate passage. I would say my vocal range has increased by a fifth at least. To me, these are all tangible and welcome results.

In the last few months I've started going to more of my teacher's breathwork classes, and she has taught me some amazing things. The physical aspects of pilates are all good, but there's a kind of static form that you have to adopt. There are right ways, and wrong ways to do pilates, and that's it. With the classes that she calls "Fluid Body", there are many more possibilities. I've discovered that sound and breath can be used to effect changes that go well beyond the exercises prescribed by Joseph Pilates and his followers. Various humming and other vocal sounds coupled with breathing exercises can help make some radical shifts in your physical and mental state. If you observed it, you would think the participants have lost their marbles.

This work is certainly esoteric, and I suspect you might think I'm a little bit loony to expound on the matter, but I speak from personal experience. You may even think, like our high school music class that your breathing and body are adequate. I have found out that my original skepticism from my high school days is unfounded, and even the wackiest sounding ideas might have a grain of truth to them. It doesn't pay to dismiss any idea out of hand until you've investigated the matter and found out for yourself. By all means, hang onto your skepticism, but make sure you find out the facts for yourself before you write anything off. And, please, keep breathing as long as you can. It's good for you.

The Mayan City on the Yucutan Coast

As promised, here are a couple of pictures from Tulum, the Mayan City that I visited last week.

This Iguana is Bigger Than Grendel!

This handsome fellow lived near our hacienda at the resort. Instead of squirrels roaming the lawns, they have iguanas in Mexico. They were everywhere.

Tulum or bust

Hello everyone. PJ and I just got back from Tulum, a Mayan ruin on the coast of the Yucutan peninsula. We were ably guided by a knowledgeable fellow named Angel. He pointed out all of the salient bits and explained the history of the city.

Tulum was a small center of commerce and religeous worship during the classical period, and fell into decline after the ninth century AD. I will be sure to post some pictures upon my return to Canada so you can have a peek.

If you ever get a chance to come to the Riviera Maya, it is well worth visiting. It is a little less famous than Chichen Itza, but it is closer to all of the resorts on the coast. I'm inclined to be quite lazy this time out. I didn´t want to endure a two hour bus ride to get to Chichen Itza, so Tulum will have to suffice.

I´m off to the pool for a few cervezas and a swim. Hasta la vista blogfans.

Grendel went to visit Archy again, and they had a grand time romping in the barnyard. I just figured you'd like to know.

The little fugger is 1 year old

Happy Birthday To You
Happy Birthday To You
Bappy Birthday you little eejit...



Happy Birthday to you!