What is Success?

Came across two fantastic lectures on success that I wanted to share with you all (or at least keep track of for my own personal indulgence):

1) First, by philosopher and novelist Alain de Botton:



2) Second by John Wooden, often considered to be one of the greatest coaches in all of sports. He talks in the rambling and reflective way one might expect from an 89 year-old, about why one is a teacher, and what is true success:

Nature vs Nurture: The Violent Mind

I had an interesting conversation/debate with my mother and Laura during our 8 hour hike across Whistler Mountain to Singing Pass.

See, Laura believes that in the Nature vs Nurture debate, the balance is about 10-90. So 90% of what determines the person one becomes is due to environmental factors.

My mother, on the otherhand, believes that genes matter far more, she quoted around 40-60 as the more accurate balance in her mind.

My response to both of them was that they weren't giving enough credit to either influence.

Overall I do think that we give far too much credit to "genes" in society. I think that environment plays a very very important role in how a persons brain and social behaviour develops, and that environmental conditions can often render genetic predispositions to be impotent. But I also think that, conversely, the power of particular genetic dispositions can also sometimes override any environmental constraints.

(For example if someone has a genetic condition that makes them 450lbs, no amount of ballet lessons are going to make them very able as ballet dancers).

This debate has implications which make it an often controversial and/or emotional topic.

Some people feel as though, by attributing behaviour and interests to environment, its not giving enough credit to free will. Others might argue that to say that certain people are hard-wired to be better than others is something which is dangerously close to defending classism or racism.

I think if anyone analyzes how the brain develops, especially as a baby, the overwhelming influence lies in the environment you grow up in. However, from a macro perspective, within societies, there seems to be evidence of brain development and behaviour disproportionately in one direction.

Professor Jim Fallon at the University of California has this GREAT lecture which explains how this phenomenon occurs, as he touches upon this debate through the prism of analysis of the brains of violent murderers.

Reflections on Move #13

Let me be very clear, I HATE moving.

The process of having to go through all of your stuff and put it away in different boxes; the guilt you feel as you realize that you haven't justifiably used or needed well over half of what you have, the further guilt you feel as you realize that, under the circumstances you can't really pass these useless items on to someone else, and instead you have to just throw them, in the process contributing to the endless pile of refuse that continues to grow menacingly as our species neglect and irresponsibility continues to prevail.

Coming with all of that is the emotion that you feel about the fact that a transition in your life is upon you. The strength of this emotion is compounded by the exhaustion that you feel working full days at work and then spending your afternoons and evenings moving.

All of this makes me wonder, why in the heck have I moved SO MUCH?

Not including any of the moves before my 5th birthday (because who remembers anything before your 5th birthday anyway?), this was the 13th move of residence that I have done in my live, spanning across 5 different countries.

Fatal Flaw

Given that I want a job and a life where I (and my future family) will most likely be traveling frequently, is my disdain for moving my fatal flaw?

As every literature dabbler knows, every protagonist has a fatal flaw. The one thing which he cannot avoid which is his undoing. In tragedies, it is often what the hero loves the most, that hurts him the most. To give a simple Pop culture reference, Spiderman loves Jane, but cannot have Jane because it would mean he could no longer be Spiderman.

The only resolution I can see to this is that hopefully, my future moves will be more simple. This move couldn've been more complex, two people going to different continents, at different times, with one (my) parents both overseas and the family house is on the other side of the country.

Emotions

I felt particularly emotional moving this time around. Far more than normal. Especially when you consider that I had only lived in this apartment for 8 months, making it the place with the second least amount of time spent of everywhere I've lived.

I can only come to 3 possible conclusions as to why this was the case:

1) Now that I am older, I am more aware of just how dramatic these changes and transitions in life are.

2) Given that this place (Canada) was the first place in my life where I actually entirely constructed and created my world and my life and everything was done on my own choice (rather than moving simply because of my parents work), I therefore feel the consequences and costs of the move that much deeper.

Or 3) I have somehow become more aware of what I feel about things around me?

My feeling is that it is a bit of all three, probably mostly 1 and 2.

In any case, after 3 days in a row of 18 hour days, working army from 7-3 and then organizing the move, I'm glad its over.

And while I don't look forward to the next one, I accept fully the inevitability of its arrival, it is simply a consequence of how I have decided to live my life.

There is something about Africa...

There is something that is special about Africa.

In his book, "The End of Poverty" by Jeffrey Sachs, he quotes the great biologist E. O Wilson, who argued that "human beings are 'hard wired' to feel a special resonance ("biophilia") with the African savannah, the place where our species arose some 150,000 years ago."

I have lived in and travelled to more than several countries within every continent (not Antarctica), and there's something about Africa that touches the bones and the blood of all who visit there (not the northern Arabic part per se (Egypt and Tunisia just had a different feel)), .

I spent my early early childhood, from age 1-3/4, in Malawi and then Zimbabwe.

The result is that I do not actually have any distinct memories from my time there, my earliest memory is from when I was 4, living in NDG in Montreal, I remember my father picking me up from school, I had painted a snake, and we walked home, stopping in the grass for a pause and he gave me a cookie.

However, there was something about "Africa" that always touched my heart or gave me a special feeling.

They say that cat's always remember the place they were born, and when they feel that they are about to die, they return to the place that they were born and wait to die there. There was one such Orange tabby who did that in our home in Singapore, my Dad tried in vain to "shish" him away but he was utterly resilient and indeed died a few weeks later.

Anyways, the point is, while I had no direct memories of my time as a toddler there, (everything I had were memories implanted by stories my parents would tell, and there were plenty of them), there were certain triggers and sensations that I would get when I was exposed to something I associated with "Africa".

One of the most obvious ones is music. Any time I hear Paul Simon's "Graceland Album",

Toto's "Africa



Or photos and typical African voices



I just get this feeling inside me, like a familiar, cozy, beauty.

I also have a blanket that was weaved for me by my parents neighbors in Malawi when I was born. It is brightly coloured (as most African clothing and material is), with orange and yellow spike patterning and it commemorates the 40th anniversary of the United Nations which coincidentallys falls near my birthday. I'm not sure why she choose the knit that for my blanket, but I do think its interesting. Nonetheless, I absolutely LOVE this blanket. I feel an unexplainable attachment to it.

During the christmas break of 2000-2001 I got the chance to return to Africa, finally. My Dad and I went to Tanzania and climbed Mt Kilimanjaro and safaried the Ngorogoro Crater as well as the Serengeti Plains. My memories from that trip remain perhaps some of the most distinct that I have from any place that I have been.

1) I remember going for a run with my dad, the stark contrast of our bright white shoes against red clay/dust, the unbelievably majestic horizon, plains with Acacia trees (see below), little kids suddenly emerging out of grass dwellings and running barefoot playfully and excitedly with us yelling "Wazungu Wazungu" which is swahili for "White man".

2) I remember just after we had climbed Kilimanjaro, we were all sitting with our guides and our cooks at the base having a post expedition beer (called Kili, actually). The white and brown face of the mountain was lit up in the background as the sun was setting on the opposite side of it, just behind us. Suddenly out of nowhere the cooks and guids began to sing, they sang about the mountain, for those of you who have been to Africa, you know, the sounds were just gorgeous as they were all in perfect harmony with one another.

3) Perhaps the coolest thing I have ever witnessed in my life. During New Years Eve of that holiday we were on the Serengeti plains. The hotel we were staying at had a large patio with a panoramic view of the entire plains with the sun setting behind it. At midnight a friend of my fathers, Gary MacPhie, brought out his bagpipes and began to play. If any of you know the bagpipes, you know that it is an instrument which for some reason seems to evoke emotion really well. These sounds, in combination with the view of the Serenget plains had everyone at the hotel, and especially the locals, absolutely mesmorized and in awe. It is something I will never forget.

And yet, with all of this comes the extreme poverty, the sometimes shockingly horrendous things that people do to each other there, the suffering and the tragedy.

My uncle, Alan, lived in South Africa for only 2 years of his life, but to his day (he now lives in Belgium and plays the viola for the Belgian National Opera), he says that his experience and memories from his time there remain the most impactful, special and overwhelming of anywhere else he's ever been.

But my uncle and my mother have both talked and emailed me about how Africa has a unique kind of energy that is so different from everywhere else. An electricity that is overwhelmingly beautiful, but one that can turn violent or tragic quickly.

Alan says that perhaps its because life is so full of this energy that it often seems to end quickly there. Like a candle or a match that burns too bright, it cannot sustain itself for as long.

I asked another friend of mine, Stephane, who spent his adolescent years in Guinea, to tell me what he thinks and feels about it.

"Its out of time, full of smells, majestic beauty but violence and languidity as well, an unbelievable mix" he said.

The impetous and swell of passion that sparked this blog entry was hearing African music coming from the headphones of someone in the lunch line today.

Although I feel I can say with relative certainty that Canada is where I would now call home. That unexplanable feeling that I get when I am touched in someway by Africa, means that it will always have something that Canada can not replace.

As I reflect on this post I realize that 2011 will be 10 years to the year, since I was in Tanzania with my father. Perhaps I need to return to Africa before then...

Canada: "When I get older, I will be stronger"

I felt so thrillingly fortunate on Canada Day. I finally felt so proud of my country. On Wednesday, for the first time I felt like I really began to get a taste of the current that flows through the bones of people here.

First of all, I cannot believe that it took 6 years for me to finally experience celebrating Canada Day in Ottawa. It is quite the spectacle. After spending 5 years in Montreal, where Canada Day is hardly perceptible (Quebec schedules July 1 as "moving day" so all the leases expire and Montreal is bogged down by traffic and stressed citizens), it was so refreshing to be a part of a celebration in Ottawa, where being proud of your country is widely accepted.

Everything about the evening made me so utterly proud of my country. I felt for the first time, that I really had a perceptible idea of what Canada is, in its ever evolving form, colour, tone and shape. It told me what Canada is striving so hard to be.

I've said this before to many of my close friends. I believe that Canada is uniquely placed. As the collision and blending of cultures and races becomes inevitable in modern life, Canada, a bilingual nation-state, founded not as a state for a particular distinct ethnic group but on the basis of particular social ideas (namely tolerance, equality, and individual freedoms), one in which everyone can come from anywhere to participate in, is ideally constructed for the modern world.

And Canadians try soo soo hard to be the ideals that it preaches. That striving for the ideal, to be the ideal, is what makes me so utterly proud of this country.

The lineup of performing artists reflected the distinctly diverse and equally valued and important elements in this country. First up was K'naan, a Somali-Canadian rapper who spoke glowingly about how July 1st was the independence day in Somalia as well, and how he was so lucky because he got to celebrate the birthdays of "both of his homes" on the same day.

That is the epitome of the Canadian immigrant experience that we are striving to create. That everyone can come here, and retain their cultural heritage and identity but also be Canadian and a part of this society. This is the mosaic.

The rest of the lineup included, a Quebec pop star, a first nations dancer from BC, a country rock star from Alberta, a female acapello group that sang in Spanish, English and French, and finally, Sarah McLachlan perhaps one of our most famous artists.

Whenever a little kid or an ethnic "minority" was shown on the jumbotron with maple leafs on their cheeks waving the flag, the crowd broke out into cheers and momentous uproar, we have so much pride in our diversity.

Sarah McLachlan told the audience just before beginning her first song "We are all so fortunate to be here, lets just think about that for a moment".

The lyrics of K'Naan's last song, "When I get older, I will be stronger, they'll call me freedom..." to me, exemplifies what it means to be Canadian for so many people in this country right now and in the audience that day. So full of hope and optimism about the future.

But it also could be the theme song for this country. Canada is young, only 143 years old. And it will only continue to get stronger. Its people all came here from somewhere else, striving for something better, a place where they can be safe, free to keep their culture, and be just as good and as accepted as everyone else.

It's not perfect, but we are working on it. It is slowly improving, and that is what is so cool.

One Afternoon with the Governor General

Last week I had the opportunity to meet Her Excellency the Right Honourable Michaelle Jean, the Governor General of Canada.

As the Queens Representative and Canadian Head of State, she is the Commander in Chief of the Canada and therefore, of the Canadian Forces.

As some of you know I am currently working for the Ceremonial Guard as one of the Platoon commanders of the Parade Company. The job is a pretty sweet gig, possibly the easiest and smoothest army work I've ever had, and it comes with perks, meeting Her Excellency being one prime example.

As her personal guards, she must inspect us prior to the commencement of our summer duties (we have sentries at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Rideau Hall (her house), and of course, we do the Changing of the Guard Ceremony on Parliament Hill.

Last week on Thursday we held the Her Excellency the Governor General (HEGG) parade, for her inspection. Photos are available here, and here. As a Platoon Commander and an Officer, I am one of the guys in the front of the main body of troops, with my sword in the carry position.

First Impressions

I had heard nothing but good things about the GG prior to meeting her (members of the military, in particular, think she has been fantastic in her treatment of the troops), and admittedly I've always liked her ever since her appointment by former PM Paul Martin, so my expectations were high.

She is absolutely as gracious and classy and elegant as everyone says.

First of all, she has to be barely over 5 feet tall, she had some serious heels on and was still maybe up to my shoulder, if that.

Nevertheless, she appeared entirely at ease talking to 6ft tall uniformed infanteers.

She took her time on the inspections and talked to 1 out of every 3 to 4 soldiers, asking them questions and getting to know them. What specifically was said, I and no one else there except each of those soldiers knows, as she put it in her speech afterwards with a wink and a smile "what I talk about with the Guards is between me and my troops, its top secret information".

After the inspection was done, the officers and senior nco's were invited to the patio behind Rideau Hall to meet with Her Excellency personally.

Creole preparation

Knowing earlier in the week that I would be meeting Her Excellency, I asked some of my troops with Haitian background how to say the french equivalent of "Enchante" or (Nice to meet you in a formal way), in Creole.

(HEGG Michaelle Jean speaks 6 languages fluently (English, French, Spanish, Italian, Portugese and Creole) and of course, Creole is her native language.)

For those of you who are wondering, muay contente sayo or something like that, is how you say enchante in Creole.

ANYWAYS, I had it totally memorized and when the moment came I was so focused on taking off my gloves and putting away the glass of water that a caterer had given me, that I think I just mumbled "great to see you ma'am, your excellency". Or something to that effect. :)

I'm not going to get into too much detail about what she said to us for obvious reasons.

But I will say this.

She was very nice, very gracious and also honest and forthright about her experiences with the military. She has visited the soldiers in Afghanistan (twice), and she contrasted that with her upbringing in Haiti which, if you know anything about her biography, her family fled Haiti in 1968 to escape the regime of dictator Francois Duvalier, who had imprisoned and tortured Jean's philosopher father.

She is clearly very interested in learning as much as possible about and from the military, and has shown such in how she has handled her position.

After our meeting the rest of the soldiers came into the patio for the reception and Her Excellency went around and talked to everyone there, all ranks and even guests.

If you ever get the chance to go to Rideau Hall (it is open to the public, and in the winter time has a sledding hill and a hockey rink for all to use at any time) I highly recommend it. It is fantastically maincured and architectured.

The power of a good story (Part I): Sports

I can remember as a little kid living in Singapore, waking up super early in the morning to watch playoff basketball games with my father on TV.

Back then, the team to beat was Hakeem Olajuwon's Houston Rockets who defeated both the New York Knicks and the Seattle Super Sonics in '94 and '95. To this day, I can still remember Vernon Maxwell's buzzer beater in Game 7 to win the series for the Rockets. It was a tremendous bonding experience for my father and I to share that passion for drama and excitement with each other, but I think these experiences also fundamentally shaped the person I have become today.

Our shared passion for drama and heroics would continue throughout my upbringing. No matter where we were, we would continue to watch such contests and battles, whether it was the Knicks-Heat playoff battles from the late evening into the early morning (because of the time zone) in Budapest, or the Ice Hockey World Championships from Moscow.

Perhaps it was these early mornings of my childhood that shaped my love for almost all sports, but ultimately, I think there is nothing better in life than a good story.

A good story

A good story makes us feel good, it makes us feel connected to the world around us, and whethers it's Homer's The Oddysey, Tolstoy's War and Peace, or an epic 6 hour, 5-set Wimbledon final between two of the greatest players to ever hit a ball with a racket, there is drama, tragedy and emotion. And when we witness these storylines, I think we are brought closer to the truth that permeates all life but some how remains frustratingly ungraspable.

Last Sunday morning at the family home of my partner, Laura Neagos I had one such experience. We had all woken up and eaten already and I, being the impolite but wildly impassioned sports fan, left the table early to go watch the 4th round of the French Open. Upon turning on the tv, to my shock and amazement, Nadal, the defending champion at Roland Garros for the last 4 years in a row, with a 38-0 record having never lost in Paris his entire career, had actually lost the first set and was struggling to keep pace with Soderling in the second set.

Soderling defeats a King

The match was wildly unexpected, and it demonstrated just how much "anything can happen" in sports, which is what makes them so exciting to watch. As the match unfolded and Soderling continued to play all-out, dialled in tennis, hitting shot after shot after shot at maximum effort, just catching line after line, we all began to realize that we might be witnessing an upset of significant magitude. Hearing my bellows and shrieks of excitement and awe, Laura's entire family, brother, mother, father and uncle were all drawn to the living room to see what was unfolding. The story of this contest brought us all together, Laura's family (who do not speak English nor play tennis but are casual sports fans) sensed the dramatic moment just as I did, all gathered around to watch the remaining duration of the match.

The ending provided yet another important life lesson. "Anything can happen" is one of the treasured aspects of sports, the reason we watch, the reason we bellow in disbelief, the reason we play in the first place. I was absolutely awed by the improbability of Soderling's performance given Nadal's invincibility on the clay courts in Paris. But upon seeing Soderling do his awkward and weirdly dismissive victory celebration, in which he barely glanced at Nadal during the handshake, and listening to his post-match interview in which he gave very little respect to the defending champion, I had a different thought.

Anything can indeed happen on a tennis court. And sometimes that sucks. After all life is unfair.

In losing, Nadal showed just how amazing his performance, and the performance of his rival, Roger Federer, has been over the last few years. To lose tight matches like this every once in a while is ordinary; to keep finding ways to win them, as Nadal and especially Federer have at every important event, is extraordinary. Federer has made it to the semi-finals of every grand slam tournament for the last 5 years, he has only ever lost to either Djokovic or Nadal (except for Australian '05 when a red-hot Marat Safin took him in a 5 set thriller) once there. The story line of the tournament is now whether Federer can finally capitalize on this window of opportunity. Never before (and likely never again) will he have such an opening at the French Open, to finally get that Career Grand Slam (of winning every major tournament), and to tie Sampras' Grand Slam titles record.

Of course, you never know, "anything can happen" and for Federer fans that is nerve wracking, but that's what makes this such a good story. And one that I will remember for the rest of my life.