I am alone more than I am not. I write these goofy blogs and often open up about feeling lost or lonely. Invariably people reach out with empathy,

“Are you ok?”

That is the most common message I get. Of course I am. I am alone by choice. Too often the fear of being alone led me to make a bad decision or hang on too tightly to someone. We all know the harder you hang on to anything, the more likely you are to lose it.

I have been thinking how best to explain how I and I assume many other single people feel. I want everyone to know I am ok, I am strong, and I am choosing this. One day things could change, but for now I am where I belong. Here is my attempt at an analogy:

Imagine yourself on a body of water, in a boat that feels like it can capsize at any moment. You are scared. You feel unstable. You do not know why you are out here alone. It is pitch black. You are lost. You anxiously look to shore for any sign of others: A shoreline, lights, noise. You see those things and you start to paddle that direction. You paddle quickly, too quickly, and the boat tips plunging you into the water. With all your strength you try to pull yourself out and get back into your boat. As your strength fails, you feel an invisible presence help you as you miraculously get back in your vessel. As you sit there, you are suddenly less afraid. The worst has happened and you are ok. You smile to yourself because you realize you are not completely alone. Someone, Something, was looking out for you.

You resume paddling towards the lights on the shore, the things you think you want, the things you know. But you are calmer. Your stroke slows as you begin to enjoy the darkness, the solitude, the sound of the paddle as it dips into the water. You begin to wonder about the unknown behind you. You are getting closer to the things you know and what you think is safety. You stop paddling. You are suddenly in limbo, torn between the appeal of safety, and the call of the unknown. Without really knowing why, you turn your boat around, and start leaving behind the things you thought you wanted. As you leave these things you realize its not as dark or as scary as you thought. The moon paints a path on the water. You follow it. Your soul is at peace. Some see you as lost, but you feel found.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.

Do you ever find yourself in a world you don’t belong to? or just a place, or a moment?

I feel like I have been where I do not belong for a while now. My life is changing, I am changing. To not be alone I have found comfort in the wrong places. The wrong drinks, the wrong priorities, friends that were not mine to have. My time and attention have been on the political and religious divides we are all experiencing.

The events have been extraordinary. As I write this there is a ground war in Europe. Canada is deeply divided, and the Oilers still do not have a competent goalie. I can see why I keep getting pulled in. My nature is to stand up to what I believe is wrong and I care not what it costs. I was never good at going along to get along.

However, it does not make me happy. If you have read my shite consistently this must seem like a tired refrain. How many times have I been on this cycle? Drinking, social media, Contentiousness , finding comfort in the wrong places and seeking the wrong connections. I know my out and yet I keep falling down. Maybe reading about my colossal failures can make someone else feel better about themselves. I hope so.

I loved someone so deeply. And the truth is I still do. So while I can meet people and make new friends, I will need to wait longer before I can feel the things I miss. It hurts. It really hurts. And its no ones fault but mine. I am very lonely. The easy fix is to connect with someone, but that is not what I need. I need to heal. And there is no timeline on that.

I have told myself lies. Told myself I don’t care. Told myself things are okay that are not. Told myself I am happy but I am not. However because I have been here before I know the three things that will pull me out.

My kids. I have two of the best kids in the world. And as great as their mom is, I had a hand in it too. These two are literally my world and almost every choice I make have them in mind. I am proud of myself. They are a joy to watch grow up and I am so excited for their futures and hope I can be here to see it all.

Writing. This is my therapy. It is how I connect with who I truly am. Start writing about yourself, it is impossible to lie. I throw up defence mechanisms in person or by message. But when I choose to write it is me.

God/Jesus. A year ago I would of said Jesus. But I am muddling my way through the Old Testament and I am really enjoying the Old Man. More anger, more changing his mind, more temperamental, but a good God, with a massive heart. Albeit sometimes after a pretty epic display of wrath. He reminds me of my brother Caleb to be honest.

It is Friday night. I am drinking water, Bauer is at my feet. Of course I am alone but not really because I am with whoever reads this. My speaker is playing ‘Clay Pigeons’ by Blaze Foley. My kids are happy and out with good friends. They hugged me before they left. I will ask the temperamental Old Man to forgive me, and thank him for these few things. It is all that I need.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris

I love the small towns that break up the stretching highways my beautiful home province of Alberta offers. One of my favourite things to do on a weekend is jump in my truck and roam Central Ab. Lately I can’t help but feel Im going from one museum to another. They are fading, many becoming obsolete. I get a melancholic feeling on these trips. Some are mining towns, like Big Valley. In their day they were hubs of economic activity. There is an old community centre and a picturesque church overlooks the town from atop a rolling hill. The drive to Big Valley from the west takes you through one of the many stunning Red Deer River crossings. If you have not been, go. Big Valley is my favourite town for a lot of reasons. My mother is buried nearby. I have memories of my mother and family I love from Big Valley. We lived there briefly.

Nanton may be next on my list. Nanton is historically a ranching town. It used to be called “Tap Town” because they gave out free water to travellers. You can still buy bottled water from Tap Town. Find a bottle and imagine yourself a thirsty traveller on a windswept prairie. That hospitality is still alive in Nanton. They have a few old hotels and a handful of other historic buildings that currently house some of the best antique shops I have ever seen. At the local air museum It has a fully restored Lancaster Bomber. These are very rare. I remember my grandfather telling me all about the Lancaster. He had been part of the RAFs British Commonwealth Air Training Plan that was hugely successful is stocking the Allied in World War torn Europe with well trained pilots. They trained in towns like Nanton, Penhold, Claresholm and many others. The skies of Alberta were filled with the brave for many years.

In almost every town is a church that served the community. The church was the community, the community was the church. Religion and politics aside it is obvious these communities were tight knit, cooperative, and needed each other to survive. Most of these towns were established in the the late 1890s and early 1900s. My favourite era. When men knew how to build sash windows and dormers.

If you want to go back in time, like I so often do, drive in any direction away from where you normally go. Turn your music off. Look outside. History is there in living color. A sagging hip roof barn in a cluster of trees, A homestead that the wind and rain have whipped to near death. An abandoned grain elevator that’s scheduled to be demolished. A community centre in the middle of nowhere thats shuttered off. A boarded up church on a hill. A local cemetery covered in weeds may remind you that like the past, we are all dying. Go see it before it is gone. Its fading fast. Too fast for me. I realize just now, I am more the past than the future.

If you read this far, thank you. Tris

This post is my thoughts on one of my favourite shows, Yellowstone, and “Cowboys” in general. There is a romantic aura that has always surrounded this lifestyle. I would like to poke a few holes in this. First off:

Wrangler Jeans. What is manly about separating your nuts with a seam and displaying them to the world? Is this so one ball is on each side of the horn on the saddle? So they do not go “clang” as you trot out into the sunset ruining the mourning wail of the steel guitar playing in the background? I think you would be a real man if you let those things bang around and I would be obliged if you kept them from my eyesight. I think I speak for most of us, cowboy testicles are just as unappealing as anyone else’s, I do not really care how big they are. And since we are on the subject of testicles, good grief, why do you eat them?

Cowboy hats. Ok, these are pretty cool. But you can not dislike a turban if you think a cowboy hat is cool. Its a turban on a spin cycle. Both are cool.

Cowboy boots. Why do Cowboys wear high heels? When you add your chaps I feel like I am at a drag queen performance. I do understand the reason if your foot is in a stirrup, but what if its pushing the gas pedal of a 100,000 dollar truck whose only load is a pearl buttoned white shirt you bought at a western wear shop. C’mon boys, I want to see a beat out truck pulling a horse or two if you are going to wear the PPE of a dusty ole cowpoke. You do not see welders driving down the road with a welding helmet on, even if the sun is in their eyes.

Cowboys doing tik tok dances. I LOVE tik tok. But when I see a cowboy with his shirt off dancing my phone is in a near death situation. What the ever loving hell is that all about? The only real cowboy I know wears long sleeve shirts in plus 30 temps. If you are exposing your nipples, and dancing to a cell phone, you are single handedly destroying the legacy of every poor sod that had to ride a dusty trail. Do they really need that belt? Looks like they need a shoehorn to get the jeans off. I won’t get started on the buckle.

The Duttons. A dumber bunch is hard to find. Cavemen have better conflict resolution skills. Murdering people and throwing them into a Ravine (The Train Station) seems like a bad choice. No one looks into a Ravine right? Lets find the biggest most interesting thing to look at in these parts, and stack our bodies there. No, no not a remote location, just off a paved road where there is a nice approach to pull over and look out over the ravine.

“Im taking you to the train station Tristram.”

“Why Rip?” I ask the big mutt. “Are you out of hamburger helper down there in your log love nest?

“No Trist, You are leaving on the next train.”

“Thats interesting Rip, seeing as there hasn’t been a passenger train for about 10 years.” I reply. “Sure you arent just defaulting to your shitty conflict resolution skills and intend on throwing me over a cliff for all the tourists to see?

My train would leave from the bunkhouse that night.

Beth. Beth seems like every woman really. Maybe I just bring out the “best” in women. Im telling you, women are vicious. Im sorry, there is nothing specifically “cowgirl” about an angry woman. I believe they call that appropriation. Women were puppet mastering the fall of Empires long before Annie Oakley came along.

I have decided to come up with a name for all the Yellowstone impersonators. Yellow snow eaters. It fits. But all is not lost for this culture. There is a few originals left. I know a couple. And there is one kind of cowboy that has my deepest respect:

Rodeo Clowns. I put these last because they are the greatest men to ever exist. Seriously. NO ONE cooler than a rodeo clown. They dress up like a clown and go out and save everyone’s ass. They are literally the anthesis of a Tik Tok cowboy.

I really could go on all night. But what I am trying to say is this. Be real. Be what you are. Be authentic. If you are a plumber or a framer let that butt crack shine. If you are an electrician you can pull off the spiked hair look. If you are a cabinetmaker I only want to see 3 fingers on each hand. If you like to ride motorcycles ride them, but you aren’t an extra in Easy Rider and we all know you take a bubble bath before you watch reruns of S of A as you fall asleep on your pillow top mattress. You don’t fall asleep dreaming of the open road and breaking rules, you fall asleep wondering if the car seat is properly fastened in the back seat and I love you for it. Be yourself. Its way cooler than anything you see on TV.

And if you are REALLY cool, you will paint silly colours on your face, wear baggy clothes, put a big red nose on your face and go out and play chicken with some bulls. Make some kids laugh while you do it. Here is a tip of the glass for the real men in this world. Clowns.

If you read this far, thank you. Tris.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to step away from social media. I still check it, I have a lot of clients that reach me through there, but it is no longer part of my social life. It took a while to get used to, but ultimately I am better off for it.

I continue to write, but now its like talking to myself. The only people to read my stuff followed the link I would post on Facebook. Before, maybe a 100 people would read this drivel, and now its less than half a dozen. I feel like I have done a service to my fellow man.

What is happening to me is net positive. I am becoming myself again. I am no longer a loud speaker for all the influential media machines that fought for space in my brain. I have some so called left wing views, and some right wing views. But they are not what Tucker Carlson or Cenk Uygur tell me to think. They are my own thoughts, and there is no need to broadcast them. If anyone would like to have a coffee and ask me what they are, I would share them. That being said, I have admiration for those that openly speak their conscience. I had just lost myself in it all, and needed to unplug.

In a way It has become more lonely. I do not have a house full of family. It is me, my dog and my cat half the time. The other half I am blessed to have the ever amazing Brooklyn. On facebook I had many people I could reach out to and chat with. I do miss that. But in another way it is far less lonely. I do not see someone else’s idea of a perfect life, and the things I do not have. I get to enjoy all the things God has given me. I am not told 20 hrs a day how evil the other half of society is. Now, if someone is different than me, I assume they haven’t experienced the things I have, or vice versa. Even if I think someones ideology is deeply dangerous, I no longer make the assumption that is their intent. If you turn off the slot machines that are Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, you will be amazed how your perspective might change.

I have recommitted myself to following God. It is not easy. But, it is rewarding. I drifted away this summer. I became judgemental even while I made very poor choices myself. I grew angry, frustrated, bitter and resentful to those I felt were actively engaged in destroying the way of life we all enjoyed. I forgot Jesus’s instruction to love everyone. I tell everyone I am a Christian yet I can’t remember the last time I truly was kind to someone I disagree with. I was self righteous, vain, vulgar, harsh, and argumentative.

How quickly I forgot where those choices led me in the past, and the peace God gave me when he saved me. As humans we give up on each other. When someones disappoints us a few times we are “done.” It is something we should all be ashamed of as we constantly betray our Creator meanwhile receiving divine forgiveness any time we ask. We simply do not get to judge others. We can judge behaviours, we can take moral stands, but we can never judge people comparative to yourself. No one is less than you. No one.

So did I unplug? Or did I plug in? I believe I retraced my steps, and went back to the rock that is my best Friend, all other ground was sinking sand.

If you read this far, Thank you.

Tris.

Something happened to me yesterday that hurt me deeply. I had not felt that much pain in a long time. It took a lot to finish my day. We have all had lifetimes of hurt. This one scratched an old scar, and I was taken aback by how deeply I felt it.

When I got home I was numb. I sat on the couch and Bauer came and put his head on me. Dogs know when we are hurt. It doesn’t matter if its only on the inside. Only on the inside? Only? I doubt I am alone when I say its the hurt on the inside that really hurts. Its deeper than a cut, bruise, break. Its a darkened soul. You can see it in people’s eyes. Everything is in the eyes. The same eyes that light up can also dim.

My last few posts have been heavy. I do not write for anyone but myself. I share them because it keeps me honest. I share some things because I hope someone, anyone, feels less alone. On the outside I have it all. Perfect children. A beautiful home. A business that supports us and allows me to be me. I also have a 93 Dodge 2500 with the first generation diesel. You cannot drive that truck and not smile. I have a loyal hound who rides with me. I have no right to be anything but grateful. But I am hurt. I have been hurt most of my life. So are you. So is everyone.

Most of my life I have dealt with my hurt by isolating my emotions and lashing out at those I love. This works, if you want to hurt more. I bet whoever reads this has done the same thing.

If you hurt enough you become reckless. Reckless in every way. Despite not being true you feel you have nothing to lose. You fear nothing but the hour alone before you fall asleep. Time to think, which leads to feeling things you do not want to feel.

The fuck of it all is I am the author of my own hurt. Not everyone is. Lots of hurt people hurting others that don’t deserve it. This brings me to the only path I have ever felt healing from. Forgiveness. My family is from Viking descent. Needless to say turning the other cheek and loving your enemy feel unnatural to me. It is unnatural. Its Divine. It takes more courage than is humanly possible. It is a gift from God. It is actually his promise to us. We just need to ask for the strength to forgive, and we will receive it. How perfect. How divine. The way to heal yourself is to stop hurting others.

My prayer tonight is for everyone that is hurting. Think about a designed universe, and a Creator who sent his son to tell you how to heal. A Son who was hurt more than we could ever imagine. A Son whose final words where, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

I am broken inside when I think of everyone I have hurt. The angry words, harsh comments, cutting sarcasm. Some of these people were the ones I loved the most. I will hurt some of them again. However, I am thankful that I have been given a way to ease my pain. I cannot expect forgiveness, but I can give it, with God’s help.

If you read this far, Thank you.

Tris.

Darkness comes over us stealthily. We think we are “ok” but in truth we are walking down a path that leads to destruction. This time the darkness has been different. Im not really drinking. I’m not living a destructive life. I’m not hurting others. I am working out and eating well. I have never worked harder. But I have stopped living. I’ve become hard and cynical. When friends call I do not know what to say. The banter I used to be good at is gone. I have walked away from a few friendships lately because I was just going through the motions. I have a limited interest in anyone or what they have to say. I meet up with people but I’m not there. I’m in my head, a million miles away.

Through some pretty difficult times the one thing that really gave me hope was the belief in a Creator who loved me. But that does not always keep the wolves at bay. I have always been a sorrowful person. I remember as a young child my mother asking me about it. I would cry for no reason. She would ask why and I couldn’t explain. I did not even know. I don’t cry anymore, but I think most of us if not all are wounded deeply on the inside. There is only one other person on this planet that likes my music (Thank you Eris) because its beyond miserable. To give you an idea one of my all time favourite songs is “Rex’s Blues” by Son Volt. How about this lyric:

If I had a nickel I’d find a game, If I won a dollar I’d make it rain, and if it rained an ocean I’d drink it dry, and lay me down dissatisfied…..

Haha. I shouldn’t love that lyric, but I do. Thanks for the nickel, I’ll do something with it, because I can, but then I’ll lose it because I won’t be at peace till I am hurting.

I have all but given up cooking because I am a shit cook. Let’s be honest about that. If you are one of my friends that received a food picture from me, trust that it didn’t taste good. I’m a fraud when it comes to the culinary arts. My last flight was awful. For the first time since I bought the plane I had to execute a go around. I flew and I felt nothing. My house is beautiful but I have done nothing to it. The fireplace is unfinished. The walls are bare. The fridge is devoid of good food and the cupboards are filled with God knows what. My truck is a mess. All I have done is work. Im fed up of being alone but not willing to make the effort to meet people. I tried that and it didn’t go well. Boo hoo. At least I don’t blame others for where I am. I blame myself. The truth is you can make any relationship work if you want to bad enough, and I didn’t want to.

I think what eats at me is my dreams have changed. I crave an escape from society as we know it. I detest the rules, regulations, and all around idiocy of humankind. We are all sheep everyone. All. Of. Us. We bleat at each other as we trot around in each others dung waiting for our pail of feed from our owners. I own a beautiful property on a small river, and I hope to escape to it one day soon. I want to get away.

So what am I talking about? Darkness.

Also: negativity, cynicism, isolation, arrogance, narcissism and perhaps a dash of depression. Not clinical, just the common kind I bet half of you have. It is a product of too easy of a life, excess, and self absorption.

I am literally one of the most blessed people that has ever lived on this planet. My kids are extraordinary. I have the ability to do the things I love. All around me are people with real problems. I have amazing friends, employees, family. The way I feel is pure selfishness. I think we all need to get over ourselves. Understand we are not victims and if life sucks its because we suck. It takes more character and courage to be positive than to get mired it self loathing and cynicism. Rich coming from the man that craves an escape from society hey? Like the expression goes, if you meet multiple assholes a day, you are the asshole. Not exactly beautifully written but quite succinct.

So tomorrow I try again,

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.

Anyone that knows me knows I can whip out a cliche for almost any situation. Cliches are seen as time tested tidbits of wisdom. I call Bullshit…

A stitch in time saves nine.

Haste makes waste.

So which one is it? Should I hurry up or slow down?

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

If you fail to plan you plan to fail.

Oh thanks. Let me overthink not thinking.

Love is worth fighting for.

If you love something, let it go.

Love is confounding enough without the Hallmark collection of hackneyed blithering blathering.

A fool and his money are quick to part.

You get by giving.

Give foolishly and get ready for the getting, is that it? Sounds lovely, but why are misers rich? Also, lots of wealthy fools. You probably should of just bought Apple or Amazon stock.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Good things come to those who wait.

See why so many are confused? Cliches have been messing with our fragile psyche. They are imposters, they seem like sage advice, but they are useless. However you can have fun modifying them. There are some I’ve modified based on my LIVED experiences.

Ride and die.

I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.

Men are from Mars and women still live there.

Sticks and stones only break my bones, but words really hurt me.

If you read this far, my apologies. As the cliche says, I can’t give you your time back.

Tris

I was sitting on a hard church pew beside my Dad. We were watching my sister being introduced at her wedding reception, held in a small country church. My Dad looked over at me and said, “Time, it just goes like that.” as he snapped his fingers.

At that time I didn’t understand. I was 20. Today I do, and that moment feels like yesterday. It also feels like 2 lifetimes ago.

A season feels like a month now. But as my worn out and cracked up body heads downhill at an ever increasing speed, I find myself pumping the brakes less. I am not looking for a route back to my younger days.

The lessons I have learned came at a painful cost. I don’t want to pay them again. I like knowing things; maybe the best thing to know is I don’t know much.

In a strange way a memory is like a perfectly aged moment. Some moments get more meaningful with time. I don’t think you can fully appreciate a moment in real time. Sometimes we need to lose something to value it.

Life has a start line, and a finish line. We are all going towards the finish line. We can try to extend it, or we can focus on running our best race. I’m trying to wake up every day and ask myself to be someone I will be proud of when I put my head down to drift off. I fail miserably most days. We all do.

There is more Life behind me than ahead. I am fearlessly looking forward, all the while letting my memories age and sweeten. Even the bitter ones. Especially the bitter ones.

If you read this far, Thank you.

Tris

Ive been out of sorts for a few months now. I’ve passed a waypoint, and I miss the last leg of my journey as I struggle to embrace the next. Im not great with change.

In flying a waypoint is a predetermined spot where you change either speed or direction, reset your compass and move forward on your journey, leaving the last leg behind.

My Son, my roommate, my world, left my home and set about carving himself a life for himself. With his mum, his sister and his girlfriend, we drove up with him to Edmonton, helped set him up, and left him behind. We said goodbye and drove away.

“Can we go back and get him?” I asked his mum on the drive home.

“Yes” she replied through her tears.

We both knew we couldn’t. He’s starting his own journey now. He has a new heading, speed and destination.

The night he was packing was hard. For the last time I walked to the stairs and yelled up what I have yelled a thousand times.

“Im off to bed Ali, say your prayers.” My voice cracked.

He came down and we both hugged the hell out of each other. We silently cried. His tears running down my neck are inexplicable to describe. If I where to try I would say I physically felt love for me. I hope he felt mine.

“Im going to make you proud Dad.” He stated to me as I hugged him goodbye in Edmonton.

Already done, Son. You are a better man than I have ever been. You have an integrity that’s palpable. You never cheat. You are accountable. You push yourself. I never deserved you. You never stopped loving me, even when I give you reasons to. You are the greatest young man I know. Not because of me, but in spite of me. Its me, that needs to step up and make YOU proud.

So how do I do that? I stop feeling sorry for myself. I focus on Brooklyn the two weeks that I have her. I look after myself so my son doesn’t worry. I get myself in shape. I use the extra time alone to perhaps write something meaningful. I pray. I ask God to use me for good. I go see my sister more. Help her walk again. I have some time now.

In short, I need to change my speed and direction. Reset my compass and point myself to a new destination. What’s the destination you might ask? To make my two kids really proud, and not be someone they need to worry about, so they can focus on their very bright futures.

Thank you to Dwight and Anna, who over the years helped in many ways. Its not easy blending lives. Thanks to the teachers, coaches, friends, cousins, aunts and uncles for all the efforts made.

But most of all, thank you Cherlyn. You raised a wonderful son who has already left his mark on this world. I am eternally grateful to you for our children. Alastair, I miss you, but I’m ok. Can’t wait to come visit you.

If you read this far, thank you.

Tris.