My parents always tell people that, my whole life, if I get something stuck in my head that I want to do, its hard for me to let go of that goal until it’s achieved or failed.  Otherwise, it’s always in play.  And to illustrate that point my mothers proceeds to tell this short story…

I must have been 4 or 5, because I only very vaguely remember this occuring.  My parents and I got into my father’s light brown Pontiac LeMans and they told me we were going to the department store to buy some shoes for me.

Department store. Buy Shoes. Got it.

So the whole family drove to Sears, the Eaton’s Centre or whatever was around in the early 80s and began our quest, when a few minutes into entering the multi-level department store…. Little Mikey had disappeared.   It’s clearly at this point of tale where I verbally berate my mother for letting their precious angel out of their site.  I think now, knowing this is coming, she’s started to change her story a little… so I try to let her editorialize unless she really veers off track.

For what my mother claims was nearly half an hour (see 5 minutes probably), my parents frantically searched through every department, every floor, and every bathroom in this department store trying to find me.   They first checked the toy section, then electronics, men’s clothes, women’s clothes, and then anywhere they could… no Mikey.

And then when they had both given up hope, a clerk tells my mother they’ve found her son.

While my parents were thinking the worst and kicking themselves for not being more attentive, their little son, had never been lost at all.   Apparently, I had managed to find my way into the shoe section of the department store and had even solicited the help of a salesman to help me start trying on shoes… attempting to complete the task I was told we were there for.

It’s at this point in the story that I like to tell people, “See, only 5 years old, and already I’m just trying to get shit done.”

We are who we are I guess.

And it is in fact reality that screams in our faces to pay attention to the world around us, the people around us, and not merely let the days we have continually appear in our rear view mirrors.

Personally, I struggle with this. As I sometimes find myself focusing on the future, I forget to be an active participant in my own present.

A good friend of mine, wiser than she recognizes, once wrote about herself:

The consciousness of my own mortality often prevents me from performing menial tasks.

The profound simplicity and naked truth of this sentence always impresses me. At first glance this may look as if it were written by someone who acts as voyeur in this life, but quite the opposite. In my opinion, when you come to truly appreciate the beauty of the life we all have, only the thought of your own mortality can slow you down.

But how do we pay more attention?

Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

—Ferris Bueller

This is the trick, learning to look around once and a while. I don’t practice this enough, but several years ago a good friend taught me a lesson in life awareness that I truly believe every should practice…

How To Walk Like A Macedonian

In 2005 I was transferred from my position in Toronto to work and live in London, England.  During my stay I was fortunate enough to meet a co-worker who would become a lifelong friend (for this story lets call him Vlad).

While in London my working hours ran from noon to 8pm.  As there were only two of us that had been transplanted from foreign soil we were essentially forced to either hang out together or function as an island.  Luckily we hit it off.

Most evenings after work began the same way.  Vlad and I would exit the office at Cavendish Square, walk to Oxford Circus, and decide which way to go look for dinner. From Oxford Circus we’d wander around central London like two vagabonds discussing everything from politics, to relationships, to our careers (or “jobs” as it were) and back. No topic seemed out of bounds and neither side feared debate. And realistically our sole qualifiers for a venue to eat at (from my memory) was that it was new, or that it was pizza we could carry to the arcade.  Yes, simple times.

Oxford Circus

By the end of the first month, Vlad and I were beginning to function like two old friends that had known one another for years. So one night as I began my always quick paced walk into the night, I heard Vlad behind me say, (this next part will all be paraphrased as it has been 5 years so cut me some lack would ya).

“Mike, where the hell are you rushing to? Every night we leave the office and you nearly start sprinting forward to nowhere. I’m tired of keeping up for no good reason.  I think it’s time I taught you to walk like a Macedonian.”

“That sounds great Vlad, but I don’t know if I can drag my knuckles.” (I didn’t say this at all, but it would have been hilarious it I did.)

Vlad began to discuss with me how, as he would sit in the town square in Macedonia he would watch the old men walk with their friends; Slowly, peacefully, with no where particularly  to go.  Vlad said that they seemed at ease and that as he tried it he noticed a big difference in his own perspective as well… so what the hell, I gave it a shot. Its not like I had anything else to do.

Vlad and I began our almost nightly walk through Leicester Square at a pace that made turtles look at us and say, “Right on my brothas, right on.”

No agenda. No place to be, and no direction was the right direction.

This exercise was much more difficult than I anticipated. To walk with purpose and direction is simple. You move forward swiftly, with your head up and prepared to dodge and move. In London that also means to watch you do not take an umbrella in the retina.

Vlad had me slow down so that each step would almost fall into the other, like a graceful stumble, with no further purpose but to stay erect(insert childish laugh) and edge forward.

To walk like a Macedonian takes skill and the ability to relax, to disconnect, which at most times I do not possess.  But as I began to walk lock and step with Vlad I found some amazing changes begin to take place.  My breathing slowed, my muscles relaxed, and for the first time since I had landed in the UK… I could see.

I mean reeeaally see.

Even when I had gone sightseeing on my own during the weekends I found myself on a mission, a mission to see the city of London.

Ipod- Check

Camera- Check

Wallet- Check

Map-Check

Mission is a go.

Deploy to tube station and commence sightseeing…GO! GO! GO!

Even when I was relaxing I was rushing, but not this time.

As I strolled through Leicester square I WAS in the moment.

I could see the pedestrian approaching, not as an obstacle on my path, but as a person living their life in the same space as mine.

During this walk I remember laughing as if someone had told me a joke, because truthfully, the joke had been my speed walking to nowhere mentality, and the punchline was what I had been missing.

Sometimes we have to force ourselves to look around, because it’s not about what’s in front of us, it’s about what is around us, and who we surround ourselves with, be it, friend, family, or stranger. It was a beautiful experience.

Please allow me to be clear on something, I am not saying I walk like a Macedonian full-time now, hell, I’d never get anywhere, but I make sure that every so often I slow myself down so to fully acknowledge where I am.

Several times I have been walking with a friend who would be speed walking to nowhere and I’d spend ten minutes telling them the story of Vlad and teaching them, no matter how long it takes, how to walk like a Macedonian.

Now should I ever catch myself running through life, looking ahead without knowing where my feet are, I am thankful for the gift of the Macedonian Walk, and the gift Vlad gave me that will surely last a lifetime.

Life may not be as long as we would prefer, but if we are able to breathe in the moments we cherish in all their glory, just maybe we can make the memories last a lifetime.

With that in mind, I only decided to write about this most anecdote because frankly I find it hilarious.

A friend of a friend is a 24 year old female, lets call her Ruby, whose goal it is to become a police officer. Semi-normal enough goal.

This girl has recently applied to be a cop but was turned away from the academy after failing the fitness test. She just wasn’t strong enough.

Now, I understand we all think in different ways, and use various methods to achieve our individual goals.  I figured I would ask a few friends of mine, if put in the same situation, how they would proceed if they were this girl?

You should answer this question as well before proceeding with this post.

I received the following possible answers from my cavalcade of friends:

A) Hire a personal trainer

B) Buy P90x and start training

C) Girls shouldn’t be cops

D) Get to the point already this story is boring me

E) Take Steroids

If you were to have said E) Take Steroids to achieve this goal then you and Ruby would be BFFs because this is what she has proceeded to do.

Hilarious.

And the saga continues as Ruby has embraced her new life as a juice pig by also deciding to date her steroid dealer (what a catch!), and has somehow managed to find a steroid using police officer to coach and train her for her next fitness test.  Seriously.

Notwithstanding, Ruby also met said police officer coach when he was nice enough to let her off of a DUI charge he pulled her over for.  No, don’t worry, you did in fact read that correctly.  This pillar of society pulled over a drunk driver and quickly thought to himself, “We need her help protecting the rest of society”.

Each and every day I find more and more reasons backing up my operating view about the world: that everyone is messed up in one way or another.

And don’t kid yourself, you’re on that list, as am I.   There is no such thing as normal.

In fact, I’d like to go so far as to say for those people out there that appear to be normal, they are usually the most radically twisted.

The important part is to keep it to a minimum and try really hard not to venture too far into the void. Because once you cross that line, well, I guess taking steroids seems to the rest of us, like trying a new cereal.

If you have any crazy stories you’d like to share, please let me know and I would be happy to have you guest post on this blog or just leave the story within the comments area.

And if you happen to get pulled over by a female police officer within the next few years that looks like she could carry your car back to the station, that’s probably Ruby.