Communications in the 21st Century: You can never have too many skills

jugglingIf you work in Communications then I don’t know if you’re feeling the way I am but it seems as if the number of skills required to do the job well has exploded in the past decade as a result of social media.

In the past you might have needed to be able to think about, and execute, some marketing strategy and communicate in words through writing on the page and through oral presentations. You’d put together endless PowerPoints and work with other people, usually graphic artists, to make sure annual reports or marketing materials came together. You’d focus on branding exercises (maybe hire a consultant for that) and tag lines and work with interface designers (or whatever they call themselves now) to sort out web development stuff.

You might have interacted with the media to try and get some publicity at a time when the term “earned media” didn’t even exist to distinguish “earned media” from the interest you now generate from your social media feeds. It’s helpful to know Photoshop and Adobe InDesign to manipulate images and layout newsletters or marketing materials if you’re on a tight budget and definitely you should know some form of blogging software such as WordPress. For e-mail marketing you should know something like Mailchimp or ConstantContact and let’s not forget every app required to organize yourself and set up meetings and communicate with all those other people you need to communicate with and oh, do you know how to put together an e-book and sell it on Amazon? Don’t,  just you don’t, forget to put that bounce back message on your e-mail when you leave, thoroughly exhausted, on vacation.

It’s as if working in Communications means you better be constantly acquiring skills, which is a good thing that I’m all on board with. Everyone should be doing that as a routine part of self evolution, but honestly, there is a limit to what one person can bring to a job.

I believe that I actually do have many skills and at a high level and I still feel like I don’t have enough. If you work for a larger organization then I’m hoping you’d work with a dedicated social media strategist. But if you don’t, you’re pretty much the whole shebang. And the thing about social media (like most things) is that a little knowledge is actually a very dangerous thing because the less you know about it, the more you don’t realize how little you know about it, and therefore you’re actually clueless about just how complicated it can be to be really good at it.

Now you have to be able to write for so many different mediums. You need to review and edit and source appropriate graphics that enhance, or at least complement, your copy. You need to work with other creative people. You need to coach key people on media messaging. You better have some clue about Hootsuite and take video on your phone and oh, can you edit that on IMovie by tomorrow? You need to write strategy and set up a budget for Facebook and Twitter ads and figure out what audiences to target for sponsored ads and review Google Analytics and understand what the heck to do with the information you’re seeing on there in relation to what’s turning on your audience and whether you’re even reaching the audience you want to reach and can you create a report for that?

You need to ensure a consistent Instagram account aligning images with brand but first you need to decide what social media apps you should even be using based on your internal resources and whether you can even keep on top of those.  You need to be on top of all the most used latest technology and apps in order to keep on top of knowing exactly what you don’t know and wondering where you’ll ever find the time to learn about THAT.

Do we have a Crisis communications plan? Is there a phone tree for that? Could you whip that up by setting up a meeting and have that done in two weeks?

It would be helpful if you knew how to write to pictures so you could write script for video and coach those people who are going to be in the video who have never been in front of a video camera in their lives but they were the best you could come up with because they know what they know and needs to be communicated and Take 356. And cut!!!

Did you order the tent for that special event outside? and oh, if it rains, what then? and are you getting the harried, harried picture?

Honestly, at some point as a Communications’ person, am I going to have to be your personal chef, your hair stylist and your spiritual advisor as well?  Do I really need to be Oprah, Tony Robbins, Ekhart Tolle  Deepak Chopra, Seth Godin and Guy Kawasaki wrapped into one?

I need to lie down. Is it nap time yet?

I’d like to know if other Communications people are feeling this way. I’m also wondering if the same sort of skills explosion requirement is happening in every other field.

It’s enough to make me a little depressed and hey, I should make an infographic because there’s nothing I like more (sarcasm) than the terminology that makes fairly straightforward things sound super complicated and infographic definitely fits into that category. So I signed up for a free app, and fooled around, and figured it out and here’s my first attempt.  Just in case you’re experiencing a little case of the blues racing toward a full out depressive episode, my infographic might be just what you need. Depression: Fiction vs. Fact

Debunking Fame as the only legitimacy

When I saw the callout for proposals for workshops for LitFestNewWest it was on a whim that I began to create it the very same day. It came together as if I’d been writing proposals forever. Once it was accepted, Esmeralda Cabral and I fine-tuned it and fleshed out how we might do it together prior to the actual event, and that took more time.

The initial idea was easy because the kernel for the idea was found in J.J. Lee’s book, The Measure of a Man. In 2014 I was in a workshop led by Wayde Compton, writer, author, Associate Director of The Writer’s Studio. At some point J.J. Lee’s book came up. The book was published in 2011 to acclaim and as a finalist on many nonfiction literary award lists. I was amazed that an entire book of multiple story lines could arise from the artifact of a simple suit jacket that had belonged to his father.

I couldn’t think of a single thing that I owned from my father’s life that I could imagine building an entire book around. One day I walked absentmindedly into my bedroom, stared up at the open closet’s top shelf and immediately spotted this caramel-coloured, leather camera case. I took it down, the roughness of the weathered leather felt good in my hands. Inside was my father’s 8mm Paillard – Bolex movie camera.

My father took home movies of my twin brother and I when we were babies and toddlers. I was shocked when I saw it. I had always said that I was the only photographer in the family. I’d forgotten about him, the camera, and the home movies, regular intervals of us gathered round, eager to see ourselves on the grainy screen in the living room and the laughing. Family as foreign tribe revisited.

At the time, I’d started to write a story that made reference to my father’s emotional absence from our lives and when I saw the camera, the shocking realization between my observation about his emotional absence, and yet his consistent focusing of his viewpoint onto us from behind that camera’s lenses opened up all sorts of questions about him for me. And all because of thinking about J.J. Lee’s approach to his book.

But just a minute. Who was I to give a workshop on memoir? I haven’t published a memoir! And I’m getting the distinct feeling that there is some unspoken code that one must not give writing workshops about subjects where they have not achieved publishing success. I thought about that and eventually, in a defiant manner, rejected it because it is my pet peeve that “fame” seems to have become the criteria for the legitimizing of the sharing of, well, just about everything – knowledge, bullshit, sexist, racist, homophobic blah, blah blahing. I know you get it!

I thought back to Mona Fertig’s project that arose from her late father’s life-long work as an artist who received little, if any, recognition.  In 2008, when I’d moved to Salt Spring, I interviewed Mona and wrote a feature on her as she was embarking on her Unheralded Artists trade book project, a focus that many others said she was crazy to embark upon. Still she did it with many books now published under her MotherTongue Publishing.

And I began to think that we all need to find a way to fight the idea that we are only qualified to share our knowledge if we become “famous”. Because that is not how most of the world learned throughout history. They learned from elders, though storytelling. From trial and error. Through persistence. Via sharing in small groups, from a teacher challenging them from the front of the classroom.

And it is that kind of quiet sharing, one person to another — a grandmother teaching her grandchildren to knit, a fisherman showing them how to tie lures inside a wobbly boat on a lake with an Aurora Borealis of greens and browns highlighted on the lake’s surface by the sun’s first rays in the early morning.

And it is this form of sharing that is the way of The SFU Writer’s Studio which was started by Betsy Warland. It’s a commitment to relate as equals, mentor-students, one not more important than the other, that makes the SFU Writer’s Studio community a bonded one, person to person and then via social media for those who choose to stay connected after they move on.

So, as a bit of a stretch, I consider putting on our workshop, Mining Personal Artefacts as the Foundation for Memoir Writing, to be a very small political act specifically because I haven’t published a memoir. And yet, I do have something to share with others (as Esmeralda does) who may be farther back on the path than I am when it comes to writing overall.

Maybe you could assess your strengths and decide whether you have some level of knowledge and or passion, regardless of whether you’ve received notoriety from it or not, that you could share. Consider it a circumvention. That’s surely the attitude that self-publishing arose from.

And in that sharing, you might just help someone else think differently about something that they’re wrestling with personally, and maybe that’s enough. At the very least, it’s a start. It’s what J.J. Lee’s book did for me.

Writing desk as home

mydeskThis is my desk.

A lot of famous writers or published authors have taken to showing where they work. I’m positive they clean it up and manipulate it. I didn’t even bother to dust.  I wanted to give you the authentic experience. Oh the glory!

Of course, I’m neither famous nor published (at least not in book form), but as a tip of my hat to all writers who spend hour upon hour alone with their thoughts, music or not playing on a DVD, and engrossed in a story they want to tell, I pay tribute to you, my friends. It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re published or not. I have a small sense of what’s in your hearts and how much of yourselves go into what you’re creating out of nothing but your memories and your imaginations. You are the experience. The experience is you.

I have a relationship with this space that’s as every bit as real to me as those I have with people in the flesh. Even though in the past four years, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve spent way too much time here in this five foot rectangle. I’m not denying that being out in the world, interacting with people, seeing places near and far is a good way to live and explore. It’s the best! But there is a world so rich and so deep inside that Dr. Seuss got it right even when he didn’t mean for the expression to encompass what I’m talking about: Oh the places you’ll go! The people you’ll meet! Even inside your own head. ha ha.

Like most people, the things I’ve chosen to have around me hold meaning.

Clay mask

I have this weird mask that I bought in a small art gallery called Marigold Arts on Canyon Road in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was made by Allan R. Bass. I spent more money on it than I’ve ever spent on a piece of art. The pamphlet that came with the piece says he “developed a style of firing that combines Raku and Pit-firing techniques to achieve an Ancient yet contemporary expression.” He lives in a Kiva-styled pit house in rural New Mexico. In other words, he’s my kind of guy! But I bought the mask because it was just so different than anything I’d seen.claymaskArbutus Tree

I took this photo of an Arbutus tree on Salt Spring, of course, on a visit in 2007 with my friend Lisa Wolfe. She was recovering from an operation and still chose to come camping with me. I was being interviewed for a job at the Driftwood which I didn’t get. Gotta love rugged women! I just loved the patterns and the green bark. This tree is in a special place in Ruckle Park that I go to where few people ever are, and it takes me back to so many times of happiness and peace. The first time I ever saw it was with Will Gerlach whom I am eternally grateful to for introducing me to Salt Spring.

arbutustree

Buddhist Temple

In 1987 or 1988, I went to San Francisco with a friend named Pam Melnyk. She was a quintessential hippy, a few years older than me. Pam had been to San Francisco many times and was the perfect person to travel with, especially for me a newbie to the city. We stayed at a hotel in Union Square. She took me through Haight Ashbury and because she was such a music buff, I got the whole history. At the end of a most memorable few days we got bumped from the plane and got paid to stay. We were so HAPPY you would have thought we’d won Lotto max. One more day! This Buddhist temple was at the end of a fantastic walking tour of China town and it was high up in a building that overlooked the financial district. I still recall the experience of lighting those incense sticks.sanfranbuddisttempleElephant

I have a little gold elephant in front of me bought by my dear friend Colleen Eaton on her trip to India. She has a fantastical story about getting on the back of a motorcycle to go back to this shop to have these little prints framed. I love elephants and elephants with trunks up are lucky. Did you know that? Never buy an elephant print if the trunk isn’t up!

elephant

Ruckle House

Below elephant is Ruckle house. This photo taken by a very dear friend Tom James while I lived on Salt Spring. I just love the reflection through the window and the photo of original Henry Ruckle with his wife and baby. I have peered into this window so many times, a ritual whenever I visit Ruckle farm, and it never changes. It hasn’t changed in 30 years. There aren’t many places or things you can say that about and that really appeals to me.

Ruckleportrait

BC Women Artists

A poster I purchased at the Art Gallery of Victoria on a week-long trip to Victoria in 1986. I used to look at this poster and wonder about it, not really understanding the second to last shape. Now that I am that shape, I get it. Damn! I have always loved this poster. There is something profound in those five shapes representing the five phases of women which is its title. By the late Victoria artist Margaret Peterson.

MargaretPeterson

Paper weight

A paperweight with raspberry’s inside. Takes me back to a simpler time, a time in the country. I imagine this lying on a half-finished quilt in a small house with a wood stove and I just love it. A Value Village find.

paperweightIdog

Hey, it can get lonely here. Sometimes as a distraction I press the nose of my little yellow Idog and he shakes his head and barks. Often he’ll be silent and then out of the blue he’ll let out some robotic yelp and scare the hell out of me. Bad dog! Unpredictable! He wants attention but he’s so much less fuss than a real dog, if not quite as unconditionally loving. idogPhotos

A picture of Colleen and I on a trip to Salt Spring way back in 2001 to visit her sister who owns a house there in Vesuvius Bay. A particularly nice weekend.

colleenandme

A saying

Whenever there is a problem repeat over and over. “All is well. Everything is working out for my highest good. Out of this situation only good will come. I am safe.” A gift from Colleen, probably at a time when I wasn’t feeling very good.

newagesaying

Another card, hidden behind the one above. A card from Catherine Bennington, a woman I shared a workspace with at UBC in the basement of the David Lam building when I worked at UBC Multimedia Studies between 1995 and 1999 and she worked for Teaching and Academic Growth. She still works there. We’re Facebook friends and I know she would probably be amazed that I still have this card. But it was perfection and she captured what really matters to me in this simple handmade card. Thank you Catherine.catherinecardThere’s also a photo of the house I grew up in on Hamilton Street at Canada Way across from Moody Park in New Westminster that was ripped down in 1980 to make way for condos after my parents sold and moved to Langley. mavorhouse

A photo taken by me inside the old barn at Burgoyne Bay.  I love the colours of the wood and the beautiful vines across the window. I used to go there on my own with my camera and the enjoyment I got from that old run down place is impossible to describe or perhaps even understand. The sound of the starlings. The aroma of the grass in summer. Those moments are embedded inside of me and this photo helps to remind me of how special my time on Salt Spring was; how much contentment. It almost makes me cry now thinking of it.DSC_0746

I could go on but this is already way too long. Suffice it to say that our things are special to us. And this tiny space, my desk, so easily dismantled, is also a reminder of how little is truly required to feel at home when the richness of life inside of us is equal to that all around in the world.

Maybe you’d like to tell me about your writing space. Or show me.

Energizing writing into art via collaboration

Reeces

Reece’s peanut butter cups – The ultimate collaboration?

I met up with the artist Eryne Donahue who is going to visually bring to life her representation of my words for the community exhibit space in the Anvil Centre in the not too distant future.

I met her at the Waves Coffee shop on Columbia in New West and when we met you would think we were mother and daughter or old friends, but not two strangers who had never met before. We even had the same hair colour, relatively speaking.

We slipped into conversation without delay. I feel like Eryne and her newly emerging family represent the best of the evolving New West. People who have come from elsewhere. Young, dynamic, engaged and wanting to shape their lives in a community that they can raise their new families in. She is originally from Ottawa and moved to New West with her husband a couple years ago after being renovicted (“get out, we’re renovating and raising the rent”) from East Van where they’d lived for 9 years.

She has a little two year old daughter whose name, Ourigan, is spelled after a Chinook place name that she and her husband picked after they were reading a book together about the explorer David Thompson, “the greatest explorer who ever lived.” According to Google, Thompson mapped 3.9 million sq. kilometres and who, not so cool nowadays, married a 13 year old Metis child who remained married to him for 58 years

Eryne and her husband decided to follow some of Thompson’s route through Oregon, Washington State and B.C., camping as they went.Her husband works for an environmental consulting firm and travels around the province doing work related to water conservation and community education.

They have another baby, also a girl, on the way, due in May and they have chosen a wonderful name that begins with a Q. I’m not sure I should share it here so I won’t. Both names are gender neutral.

Eryne also works for herself as a graphic artist and arts educator with aspirations to do something related to community engagement and art, something she’s already been quite active in. At the moment, motherhood is kind of at the top of the priority ladder.

It was exciting to hear another person’s take on a piece of writing and to hear what she, as an artist, was drawn to in the piece in terms of how she was conceptualizing her representation of it.

It was surprising for me to recognize that her take on the term “diversity” was not as literal as I thought it might be, but instead, what stood out for her was the diversity of the spaces I describe within it, and then, as we met, the psychological space some of which was represented on the page but some only picked up via additional information I shared during our face to face meeting.

She is thinking of focusing on that aspect of diversity, an aspect I had not thought of at all, and that may help me improve the story’s ending. Therein lies the beauty of collaboration. How words on a page can engage another imagination, expanding upon the original creativity to present a completely new direction.

I’m excited to see what the final piece looks like and really happy to have made her acquaintance.

Visit Eryne’s website to learn more about her art and community engagement projects.

The importance of year end musing

TarotcardsA quote that struck me as particularly relevant by Paulo Coehlo – “Life has many ways of testing a person’s will, either by having nothing happen at all, or by having everything happen all at once.”

Even though I know that the end of another year is an artificial marker, I think it’s truly important to spend time reflecting on the 365 days that have passed.

Beginnings and endings are a container for life and it’s good to sift through that container and discover, to remind ourselves annually, what has been deposited in that time frame?

What am I hoping to do better in the next 365 days? It seems, especially as we age, if we begin to recognize the significance of one day, each day, everything becomes more urgent.

I don’t want that urgency to manifest in a panic stricken, deer in the headlights, rushing around, never having the capacity to be alone kind of way. No. I just want to accept that no matter where I’m at, no matter what is going on, acceptance is really the only way to calm down and get through it.

If I’m not pleased with the way I have spent too much of my time in the past year, with the way relationships have unfolded, or even if you are exceptionally delighted with all that has transpired, it is good to remind yourself that this is no dress rehearsal. The challenge, then, is to weigh that conscious awareness of what your ideal reality might look like, then realign the structure of your current endeavours to fit better with that ideal. It sounds so much easier than it is.

These past few years have felt really challenging, emotionally. To use a cliché, two steps forward, three steps back. That’s how the past couple of years have felt to me.  I’ve thought about it a lot and wondered about it deeply without being very successful at finding the ultimate solution. Expecting that there is one is probably the problem.

I know that part of it has to do with the move back from Salt Spring. It was as if the biggest dream I could ever dream, one that I never imagined could ever happen, happened by my spontaneous move to Salt Spring for a few years. Then, I returned to a place that I never really wanted to come back to for a variety of reasons that made sense then, and after all, it was only temporary so no big deal.  That’s what I told myself. It was time for other things that I didn’t think I could make happen from that island and I was right about that.

Temporary has now been four years. I’ve struggled with trying to understand what this is and why, as my former shrink once said in reference to my leaving the island and my subsequent feelings about that, “It’s as if you are mourning for a long lost lover.” Perhaps Salt Spring was my ideal lover. It fit so many of the experiences that matter to me – nature, community, creativity, solitude, relationship with self – that I experienced much less of prior to that move, and didn’t really know how much they truly mattered to me until I lived on that island and experienced them to a degree I hadn’t experienced previously.

So to leave that ideal and return to the muck of my own history, by returning to the place where I was born and lived the first 20 years of my life because it was close to my elderly father, because the rent was cheap, was not what I would call a well thought out decision.

Some people think my equating my feelings about the past four years with a place is ridiculous. It’s just a place! We have the ability to determine how we think about where we are at, geographically.  But anyone who thinks that hasn’t thought very deeply about how childhood shapes us, defines us before we can define ourselves, and how much work it took, especially if that childhood was less than ideal, to throw off that cloak and walk towards something better in the first place.

Given that, how could there not be psychological consequences to return to such a defining place. Places are memories and experiences that have led to ways of thinking about ourselves, not just dots on a Google map. Anyone who has made a move to a new location, found a new home, will have experienced that feeling of rightness or out of placeness. “Wherever you go there you are,” but sometimes where you are truly isn’t the best place for who you’ve become.

And in spite of my resistance, the decision has resulted in some personal growth. Since I’ve been back, I’ve travelled to Cambodia and Thailand and my favourite big island, Hawaii. I went through the Writer’s Studio, I wrote a lot, I met some new people. I’ve then taken a bunch of courses towards a different goal related to counselling and met a smattering of other types of people – wannabe counsellors are different from wannabe writers. I enjoyed observing the differences and mulling over the similarities.

I’ve never felt so in between things in my life, except, as I say that, I think that’s wrong. I think that experience, that in-between, has been the theme of my life for a very long time. Not quite settled. One foot in the past. Another in the future. Hovering above the present.

These past couple of years have been a test of my patience which is limited at the best of times. It’s been a test of being forced to examine the past, layers of memories around every corner where I now live, and there is some minor inkling that this reluctant return is not a coincidence even if born from a less than insightful choice.

There is a sense that at some point in the future, in my writing, or in my life, that this detour, will prove to have been the returning to the source that was required to start anew no matter how far a stretch that seems as I write it.

So tapping into intuition, or perhaps yearning for it to be so, I’m feeling that 2016 is going to be a year that finally frees me from this stuckness. I think it’s going to be a very good year. Better than I can imagine right now. Hoping I’m right. Hoping I have the will to make it so.

I hope that for all of you as well.

Word Vancouver: From Comics to Kids Lit

WORD2015

This year at Word Vancouver, I decided I’d go to sessions that I might not typically be drawn to, especially comic books and Kids Lit.

First stop was a panel of children’s authors. One of the authors walked us through the steps she takes to create an animal character as the subject of a rhyming poem.  I really enjoyed that. Four authors spoke about how much going into the schools and reading to kids is an integral part of what’s required of children’s authors. That sounds like a fun thing. And as always happens, which is why it’s important to attend events such as this if you write, my own ideas came bubbling up as background all throughout the talks. Think of it as creative mind mapping, silently but stealthily, a running commentary of possibilities mingled. Creative thought begets creative thought.

I listened to Caroline Woodward, who had worked in the publishing industry for 30 years. She was speaking about living at the Lennard Island Lighthouse at the entrance to Clayoquot Sound near Tofino. Being one half of a lighthouse keeper has enabled her to get back to her first love, writing. Her latest book, Light Years, is about her time at the various light stations where she and her husband, Jeff George, started as relief lightkeepers. George’s photographs in slideshow format were a nice touch. Woodward’s favourite lighthouse is Nootka because of its history and its natural beauty.

I didn’t even know there were still people working at lighthouses anymore. Apparently seven of the 23 people who are stationed at lighthouses in B.C. are couples.

I listened to John Vaillant whom, of course, I’d heard about but had never seen in person or read before. He gave a compelling  intro to his book  The Jaguar’s Children and the life and death crossing into the USA of an illegal immigrant.  His reading and the prose was so precise that it was a clear lesson in how a compelling presence mixed with vivid language does indeed go a long way towards selling books. He said a teenage boy’s voice came to him clear as day one day while he was working on something else. He felt compelled to carry that voice onto the page.  This happened while he spent nine months living in Oaxaca with his wife who is a potter. Perhaps the spirits visited him. Perhaps they knew he was someone who could do their story justice.

It was cool to hear the journey of The Flour Peddler by brothers Chris and Josh Hergesheimer. Their original focus on local grains and farmers’ markets in B.C. (starting in Roberts Creek) eventually took them on a global journey to South Sudan. Their bicycle-powered flour mill is adding efficiency to small farmers there. Chris is now in Ecuador doing Ph.D. work through UBC’s Land and Food Systems faculty.

I found it kind of sad to hear the trials of cartoonist David Boswell and the trajectory of his comic, Reid Fleming, World’s Toughest Milkman. What began as just a one-off, one pager for The Georgia Straight back in the day, developed a small cult-like following with a script eventually optioned for a movie at Warner Brothers Pictures only to be quashed at the 11th hour by the executives who just didn’t get the humour.  That’s funny actually! The script remains locked in the vault there, stuck in limbo, history.  Boswell showed a movie that one of his nephews made about him with guest appearances by Matt Groening and others who sang his praises and the genius of the character, Reid Fleming.

The last session I attended was by Michael Kluckner. The local artist and heritage advocate has put together a graphic novel, a love story, called Toshiko.  I was surprised to learn that not all Japanese families were interned during WWII. Some lived independently, specifically up in Tappen, B.C., and Squilax near Salmon Arm where they worked on a farm called Calhoun’s.

I really tried not to buy but resistance is futile when it comes to books. I have to laugh at my purchases though which are more a reflection of proximity and mood than a strategic plan since I didn’t actually end up buying The Jaguar’s Children. I bought The Flour Peddler, Toshiko and Amber Dawn’s How Poetry Saved My Life.  Boswell was selling his comic book, a signed copy for a Toonie, so I got one of those as well. Go figure?

Did you go to Word this year? What stood out for you?

Revisiting Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

It must have been about 20 years ago now that I started to read the book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Enquiry into Values and then, like a lot of people, I got a little overwhelmed by the density of the content in spots and put it down.

I love reading about road trips. I have fantasies about being a motorcycle owner and riding off into the sunset. Who hasn’t?  Robert Pirsig’s descriptions along the way kept me engaged even though I was increasingly frustrated by not really understanding what the philosophy behind the book was really about. I didn’t get it.

A few months ago, I heard a really engaging radio documentary about the book which brought it back to life, and as you might have noticed in your own life, the universe conspired to put the content right in front of me, albeit in a bit of a round about way.

I stumbled across, Zen and Now, a book written by Mark Richardson, the editor of the Wheels section of the Toronto Star newspaper. Richardson published his book in 2008 after doing the Pirsig Pilgrimage, following the route that Robert Pirsig took with his young son, Chris, back in 1968. Pirsig’s book was published in 1974.

Richardson had an inkling about writing a book before he took off on his copycat journey in 2008 but really wasn’t sure he would follow through on it.

What I enjoyed most about Richardson’s book was the background information on Robert Pirsig’s life, written with the advantage of history on Richardson’s side.

Robert Pirsig is still alive. His son, Chris, was robbed and murdered outside a Zen monastery in the Haight Ashbury district of San Francisco when Chris was 22-years-old.

Pirsig is now 86-years-old according to Google and his whole life (at least to the public) has been defined (for better or worse) by taking that motorcycle journey from Minneapolis to San Francisco and his compulsion to write about it, and then follow the first book up with a second book, Lila: An Enquiry into Morals.

If you’re interested, here’s Mark Richardson’s website, Zen and Now.

Here’s a timeline of Robert Pirsig’s life: http://www.psybertron.org/timeline.html

Watch an 8 minute video and hear Robert Pirsig speak and hear how the title of the book came to him.

Here’s a discussion group on the Metaphysics of Quality. http://moq.org/

I now have the little pink paperback, the original Pirsig book. I purchased it at a used bookstore near UBC and I’m feeling a little more ready to commit to getting through it this time, now that I’m a little more clued in to what he was trying to communicate.