Saturday, November 11, 2017

Examining the Spiritual Elements of: Soldier (1998)

Listen to this Blog entry with images from the movie on YouTube:

Let me address the obvious question that you are likely asking: “Why in the world would this guy say there is spiritual content in this crap of a blockbuster flop movie?” Well, the answer is this: Soldier is a very deep, very powerful drama masquerading as an action flick. The action serves a purpose, but it is not the focal-point of the movie. The fact is, this movie was too smart for its target audience and therefore was panned as being “routine”, “cliche”, “clanging” and “formulaic”.

When I watch a movie I do not focus on the brilliance or mistakes made by the people who created it. I judge movies based on how they make me feel. If movies make me feel uncomfortable or disturbed or if they make me feel nothing at all, then I tend not to like them. If they make me think and make me run through the gamut of emotions then I tend to love them. If I find that a certain character resonates with me then I really love that movie and that is exactly why Soldier sits within my list of favourites: I completely relate with the main character, Todd, and all of the character growth he experiences throughout this movie.

My opinions about this movie are personally biased and they are simply just that: my opinions. Everything that follows is my interpretation of this film. If the creators of the movie intended any of the material to actually be interpreted in this manner, then my hat is off to them for doing so.

I also realize that any piece of art can be picked to death in attempts to determine what the artist “really meant” when they created it. Again, my intent here is to explain the portions of the film that, for me, have great significance.

Anyway, let me assign an overall theme to this movie and then I will lead you down the garden path and show you all the nuances that led me to this conclusion. There are other themes in this movie that I will briefly touch upon, but the primary one I want to examine is this:

Soldier is about coming to terms with one’s own past. If you do not believe me, follow along and see how you feel by the end of my diatribe.

The movie starts in a maternity ward. Baby boys are being chosen by hard-looking military men for some unknown reason. The next scene reveals that these boys are being raised in what is called the “Adam Project”. They are being indoctrinated with constant audio propaganda and with violence by being forced to watch animals fight to the death. The main character, Todd, is introduced here and it quickly becomes clear that he is the strongest and smartest of all of the boys. He excels at every test and is the perfect model of non-emotion.

This is made especially clear during a target-practice session using dummies. Some of the dummies are “innocents” and some are “the enemy”. When an “innocent” dummy shields an “enemy” the boy beside Todd takes his finger off the gun’s trigger. Todd fires straight through the “innocent” dummy to take out the “enemy” without any hesitation. This is an action he later repeats during a real campaign with real people.

However, before those real campaigns begin, Todd must “graduate”. He is given his rank, insignia and his number, 3465, at the age of seventeen and from that moment on he is nothing more and nothing less than a Soldier.

I will assert here that this entire “training” sequence could be a commentary on how we raise and educate children in Western society today. Not that we are excessively harsh with children, but we do “program” them to become labourers in a free-market society. However, I will leave that point there and not expound upon it.

Twenty-three years go by as Todd and his fellow Soldiers dutifully carry out every order that is given to them. This part of the movie is done rather quickly in order for the viewer to see that time is passing and that the Soldiers are, indeed, getting older.

And the Soldiers getting older becomes the crux of the matter here. There is a new, younger, stronger, faster, more enhanced batch of Soldiers being pitted against the original Adam Project group. They compete in various exercises and Todd 3465 is up against Caine 607 in a 15-mile run. Of course, Todd loses.

Todd and Caine are then sent “up the chains” along with two more of the Old Batch of Soldiers for a 3-on-1 aerial battle. Two of the old Soldiers are killed quickly by Caine, but Todd gains the upper hand for a moment and manages to take out one of Caine’s eyes. Caine does triumph though and sends Todd crashing 30 feet to the ground. Todd and the other two Soldiers are considered as “trash” and are literally thrown out in a garbage heap.

At this point I can finally stop with the opening exposition and get into the meat of this story, because this is where the real movie begins.

Even though Todd is obviously still alive, he did certainly “die” when he hit the ground. The old Todd is dead and a new Todd “awakens” to the reality of life on a garbage planet called Arcadia. Todd is dumped out of the space-going garbage scow and onto a completely foreign environment. He is the “stranger in a strange land” at this point. He is confused and he gets continually more and more injured by this strange new place.

He eventually stumbles his way into a human settlement - the passengers of a colony ship that flew off course and crashed 12 years earlier - but the environment raises its ugly fist again and sends him crashing down some stairs and into their lives.

The people know that Todd is a Soldier and they are afraid of him, but they also feel that accepting him and taking care of him while he is injured is the “right thing to do”.

Enter Sandra. Here is the first soft, caring person that Todd has ever had in his life. Some people may look at this movie and think his glances and interactions with her are sexual in nature, but this is absolutely not the case—except, perhaps, in some Freudian manner. The truth of the matter is that Sandra is the Mother archetype and the only mother-type that Todd has ever had. She talks to Todd gently and treats him gently. She teaches him the very basics of survival on Arcadia: from planting vegetables to cooking meals.

Todd also learns from her that one can be soft as well as strong when he sees Sandra kill one of the venomous serpents in the garden. She does so quickly and efficiently and it should be noted here that the serpents in the film are a very clear metaphor for fear.

Sandra’s husband, Mace, also acts as one of Todd’s teachers, but his role is more understated and he is not a Father to Todd.

Sandra and Mace have one son, Nathan. Nathan’s role is extremely poetic in this movie. Nathan is totally silent. He cannot speak due to a long illness caused by a bite from one of the venomous serpents. However, the role of Nathan here is not to play the son, but to represent Todd’s repressed inner child and Todd’s lost innocence.

I do want to highlight something visually important here: about a half-hour into the movie there is a really lovely montage that has the intent of expressing a lot of what Todd is experiencing and it hints at the first signs of new growth within him.

After the montage we get an extremely powerful moment between Todd and Sandra. Todd is cutting carrots for dinner and he cuts his finger with the knife. After minimal pause he just keeps cutting away - no reaction to the cut, the pain or the blood. Sandra sees this and takes Todd’s hand. This is significant because it is likely the first time he has ever been touched with any kind of tenderness. She bandages his wound and then she asks him what it is like to be a Soldier.

She asks him what he thinks about. She asks him what he feels.

No one has ever asked him these questions before. No one has ever been kind to him. No one has ever bandaged his wounds in care for him as a person. Being patched up after battles was likely more akin to vehicle repair and maintenance rather than any kind of healing act.

This is all new to him and for a brief moment he glances over at Nathan who is sitting and playing in the background: this moment is the inner child being given a voice and being allowed to speak for the first time about what he feels:

“Fear,” he answers her.
“Fear?” Sandra questions.
“Fear and discipline,” he responds.
“Now?” Sandra is shocked.
“Always,” says Todd.

Sandra is so appalled by this answer that she tries to hug Todd assumingly to bring him some sense of comfort. Todd, though, has never been hugged before. It actually increases his fear to the point that he starts to shake - most likely in an effort not to flee the situation. Sandra releases the hug when she realizes he is uncomfortable with that amount of closeness.

The movie then cuts to a Christmas party and I particularly love this scene because I understand exactly how Todd is feeling in this situation. He sees Sandra and Mace and Nathan sharing the tender moment of opening gifts, he sees people laughing and dancing and having fun. The party is loud and raucous and, for Todd, it is completely overwhelming. There is too much input and the noise starts giving him PTSD-type flashbacks.

Todd disappears from the party. He cannot reconcile this new life he has with his old life. He cannot understand how he could have been the killing Soldier and now he is surrounded by friends and loving people.

But then the scene becomes especially beautiful because we see Todd watching the party through a skylight on the roof. He still wants to participate, but he needs to do it from a distance so it doesn’t overwhelm him. He watches the revelry for a while and then he sits back to think and reflect on everything that he is experiencing and feeling.

The next day reveals the result of Todd’s genuflecting. He has set up a steel fuel-tank as a punching bag and he is tearing into it. Sandra tells others that he is “exercising”, but I think the better word here is “exorcising”—as in casting out demons. For the first time in his life Todd is angry.

As he punches the steel, memories of his life flash through his mind. How he was treated as a child. What he was forced to hear, what he was forced to do, how he was forced to be. And then he is flashing back to battles and things he did simply because he was ordered to do so. He is probably realizing at this point that nobody forced him to do anything, it just seemed that way. So, his anger is focused on the people who made him what he was and on himself for not being different and choosing a better path.

Again, I have personally experienced chains of emotions very similar to these.

Then Todd does what so many of us do when we are absorbed in our misery and when we are angry: he accidentally lashes out at someone he cares about. He nearly kills one of the only friends he has ever had; someone who really looks up to him.

Todd realizes his mistake just in time and releases his friend, but the damage is done in this case and the settlement members begin to question whether Todd is capable of living amongst them for much longer.

The scene of Todd beating the fuel tank continues, but now Todd is exhausted. His hands are bloodied, the rags he was using for gloves are shredded. He is wore out and tired of fighting. Pay attention here to where he drops his hands because it is so noteworthy. Todd surrenders and lets go of his anger. He realizes that his anger is only hurting himself and others close to him now. He realizes that nothing more can be done about the situation. That was then and this is the here and now.

Moving on to the next scene, we see Todd and Nathan together. Nathan shows Todd that he has solved a puzzle game that he has been working on—this is significant imagery of Todd unlocking another emotional puzzle within himself. As Nathan turns around to leave he sees that one of the green, venomous snakes is in the room. As mentioned before, Nathan was almost killed by one of these creatures and he is extremely afraid of them.

Todd reacts instantly, but not in the way you might expect. He throws a heavy boot to Nathan and motions for the child to pick it up. Nathan doesn’t move. Todd then pantomimes clobbering the snake with the boot. Nathan still doesn’t move. Todd smacks the boot on the bed again, but now the snake strikes out at Nathan. Todd, however, is there to save the boy. He catches the snake in mid-air, but then he tosses it back in the corner and nods to the boy to go and kill it with the boot.

Unfortunately, Sandra and Mace only see this last part happen. Mace kills the snake and demands to know what Todd was doing. Todd, of course, makes no response. His training and conditioning really do not allow for him to speak up for himself.

I chose to describe this scene in a little more detail than some others partly because there is a lot going on here within a short span of time and partly because this is a really strong moment between Todd and Nathan.

As I have already pointed out, Nathan represents Todd’s inner child: the child who never got to be. Also remember that Todd said that he always feels afraid when he voiced how the child inside him feels. When Todd tosses the boot to Nathan he is saying, “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Don’t worry, I am here with you. We are in this together. Kill the snake. Kill your fear.”

The inner child does not understand this quite yet. He has not quite embraced the idea that he is now this big, powerful man. To him the world is still a big, scary place.

With Mace and Sandra now angry with him, Todd has no one to speak for him at  the village council and he is asked to leave the settlement.

This gives us one further significant scene before the bulk of the action comes into play. As Todd sits in a sheltered area alone and lonely and most likely believing that he is incapable of living any type of quote-unquote normal life, he begins to cry. He is actually confused by the tears and touches his face to figure out what this water is.

The beautiful moment is this: he doesn’t try to stop crying. Todd lets the tears flow and actually feels his grief and pain. It is so important to understand that when Todd has emotional reactions that he does not judge them nor try to stop them from happening. Everytime it happens he just feels the emotion and works through it. It is a lesson we all need to embrace and practice.

Back at the settlement, Nathan actually rescues his parents from one of the serpents by pulling it off their bed and killing it with a heavy boot. Sandra and Mace realize that Todd had been trying to teach their son an important lesson, not trying to harm him. Mace runs to find Todd and invite him back to stay.

When Mace finds Todd and apologizes it happens right at as a patrol ship carrying the new batch of Soldiers lands on Arcadia. There were previous scenes explaining how this came to be in more detail, but I skipped over them as they add nothing to the emotional content of the story. Hopefully this does not cause you any confusion.

Todd knows that this arrival is an ominous event. The Soldiers are not there to rescue the people, they are merely there for training exercises and they will exterminate anyone in their path. This is an interesting point in Todd’s new life as this is the first time that he knows what is going on and no one else does, thus we get a bit of a shift in his demeanor.

Todd tells Mace to run and they do, but they are fired upon. Mace is mortally wounded and as he dies, he begs Todd to protect Sandra and Nathan. Todd promises in his usual silent manner, but the look on his face says it all: the Soldiers have killed his friend, now it is personal.

We see a slightly different Todd here as he kills the first three Soldiers that have entered the settlement. He is in his element. He is in command. No one else can do what needs to be done. He is efficient and ruthless. He is exactly what his puppet-masters made him to be, but they no longer control him.

Thinking they are up against a significant amount of resistance, the rest of the Soldiers withdraw in order to make their counter-attack under cover of darkness. Most of the fighting and killing sequences are only here to make this the action movie it is supposed to be, but before that begins we get one more really nice scene between Todd and Sandra and Nathan.

Todd is getting ready to fight the rest of the unit and Nathan finds Todd stockpiling and loading weapons taken off of the dead Soldiers. This is the inner child, without fear, seeing the grown Soldier for the first time. He accepts that this is necessary and that this is what he has become. This is the moment he was trained for. This is the time when all of that pain and suffering can be put to use to fight for something he truly believes in. He’s hasn’t been ordered to go and do this. He is doing it because he wants to. Because it is the right thing to do. Because he is the only one who can do something about it.

There is even a short conversation between Sandra and Todd that could be construed as the man leaving the care of his mother. He claims he has to do this on his own, she cannot coddle him any longer.

Then, as Todd puts on a few streaks of camouflage, we see the Soldier fully formed. He has fully integrated his new life with his old life. It does not mean that he is a Soldier forever and that is all he will ever be. It means that he is a Soldier right now because that is what he needs to be right now.

I must admit here that I do love the line Todd speaks, “I’m going to kill them all, sir.” It appeals to the brute within me.

The fighting commences and I will not bother running through any of the exposition here. Suffice it to say that Todd triumphs over the other Soldiers and there is, of course, one final, epic battle between Todd and his nemesis, Caine 607. I suppose this fight could be viewed as a battle between the Old Todd and the New Todd, but I do not see it that way. Instead, what I see as Todd prevails over Caine is a moment of compassion and mourning. Todd wraps Caine in a headlock and as Caine expresses fear for the first time, Todd expresses sorrow and mourns for Caine’s sad existence and the necessity of killing him. He breaks Caine’s neck and then lowers him so gently to the ground: as if he were his closest friend and not his mortal enemy.

With the enemy vanquished, Todd and the villagers take over the patrol ship, kick out what is left of the bad guys (two of his previous commanding officers and a smarmy colonel) and they head for space and the Trinity Moons - the place the villagers were headed 12 years earlier. A typical, happy, Hollywood ending.

I will not go into the entire metaphor of leaving the planet of garbage where we struggle and wallow and sailing to paradise. That is almost an entirely new video! I will leave that for you to consider on your own.

There is one final salient segment to focus on. Nathan makes his way to the bridge of the ship to find Todd. When he gets there, he raises his arms up in the gesture of asking Todd to pick him up. Here is the inner child finally ready to embrace the Man. Todd picks Nathan up and the two of them look out a window upon the stars.

Todd has come to terms with his past. The Man and the inner child are now at peace; each fully accepting who and what they were and who and what they have become.

What we see happening in Todd’s life throughout this movie is a drastic change in character and personal understanding that can happen to anyone who has an experience that awakens their sleeping consciousness. The person is living their “normal” existence, they have an awakening experience—which tends to be traumatic in nature—and they become something new and different from what they once were. Soldier is the classic Hero’s Journey mythology in every sense, but I believe that the creators of this movie went above and beyond in their attempts to display Todd’s awakening consciousness. Whether that was the intent or not it was beautifully executed.

This is a story we see over and over again and we need to keep seeing it because the majority of people seeing it are still not comprehending it.

Todd is the Hero archetype who takes the left-hand path and becomes something different than what he was before. He did not ask to take this journey—one rarely chooses the difficult road—and he did not know where it was going to lead, but he clearly wound up in a better place in spite of all the pain and suffering he experienced.

And there we have it. My interpretation of the spiritual and deeply emotional elements I see within the movie Soldier and, thus, why I love this movie.

How do you feel about my conclusions. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Let me know in the comments or send me a message. Also, let me know what movies have great significance in your life. I have a lot more on my list and I hope to tell you about them for as long as I am willing to put effort into analyzing them. Thanks for listening. I appreciate the attention.

Monday, October 30, 2017

Awakening Consciousness: A Real Solution for World Change

Watch and listen to this post in audio/video format here:

As I take on the challenge of talking about the subject of “awakening”, I have to admit that I do not feel particularly “awake” today. Neither in the physical manner of getting enough sleep nor in the psychological slash mystical manner either. Perhaps this current disadvantage will force this exercise down a different path than I originally intended and perhaps that is just fine.

I suppose it is necessary to first examine why I deem the subject of “awakening” to be so important. To explain in short I would say that I consider it a terrible waste of a life to stagnate, to never change, to always be the same. I believe that change and growth are absolute necessities to reach some level of regular contentment—dare I even say happiness?—in one’s life. Change and growth in one’s life require at least some small amount of “awakening”.

Before I progress further into this talk, it seems that the term “awakening” gets thrown around a fair amount, but I am not certain if it ever is applied a specific definition that everyone immediately understands.

Honestly, I like the fact that specifics can be somewhat shadowed when it comes to terms such as awakening and enlightenment and spiritual journeys (and, by the way, I use these terms very loosely). Specifics often pertain to dogmas and formulas and tend not to lend themselves to being open to interpretation.

However, in this case let us use the standard dictionary definitions of awakening:

a·wak·en·ing
noun
1.
an act of waking from sleep.
2.
an act or moment of becoming suddenly aware of something.

adjective
1.
coming into existence or awareness.

We can use all of these definitions when it comes to describing an awakening conscience. We often come into awareness very slowly—much like waking from a heavy night’s sleep—but sometimes it can be a sudden shock. As our knowledge of “self” increases, we come further into existence and awareness.

In a more formal sense and to further the concepts of this talk we really should attempt to consider awakening as a verb. Awakening is active, it requires participation, it demands attention: “awakening” is the act of becoming aware of who you are, what you are, and how you react to circumstances around you—awareness of your emotions and emotional health if I am to put it in terms that are most meaningful to myself.

Awakening is also an awareness of how disconnected most people are from their “self” and an awareness that most of the concepts and actions we accept as “normal” in our human societies are almost certainly ridiculous and unnatural—for that matter, they are outright lies.

It is very improbable that any awakening, whether slow or sudden, is a “full” or “complete” awakening straight into enlightenment from the start. I have to concede that immediate enlightenment may be possible, but would be extremely unlikely as awakening is an active and ongoing process. Awakening is one realization and then another and then another and then another and so on. To be completely honest about my feelings in regards to awakening, I presume that most people who claim to be “awakened” are still in the stages of “waking up”. Those who teach are merely (hopefully) further along their paths than those of us just beginning our journeys.

I am not certain what it would be like to be fully awake and/or enlightened. I am not certain that anyone actually can be. How would one even know if they are fully awake or enlightened? It is not as if anyone can confirm the notion for them unless there happen to be beings on the other side of consciousness that can give one the proverbial “thumbs up” on achieving enlightenment. Then again, at that point you may have to consider the possibility of having gone completely mad or having become schizophrenic.

Buddhists say that the Buddha was the enlightened one, but did the Buddha actually claim he was? Perhaps only other people claimed he was enlightened. We ultimately have no idea and we can’t possibly know for certain.

Still, the path to enlightenment has to start somewhere and generally there is a first moment or inkling of awakening. If we were to really examine our personal histories, I am certain we would all find that our initial spark of awakening began somewhere long ago in our past.

My path to awakening began that way. There was a small spark—a chink in the armour of my worldview. That chink spread and spider-webbed for nine years until I had a big hammer-blow moment of awakening where everything fell to pieces. That hammer-blow moment was ten years ago and I have spent nearly every day since then working to further understand myself and the world I live in.

Awakening most likely does not happen that way for everyone and probably has not happened that way for you, but if it has, you have both my congratulations and my sorrows for your loss, because I have no doubt that you experienced loss and much pain during that time.

I am certain I will hear objections to that last statement. Does awakening cause one to experience loss and pain? Most gurus and teachers and psychologists and even whole religions that focus on awakening and/or enlightenment virtually all state that the goal of awakening and/or enlightenment is to alleviate suffering—specifically, in my opinion, the emotional pain we carry with us throughout our lives. Perhaps it is most accurate to say that the intent of awakening is not only to alleviate your own suffering, but also the suffering that your actions may be creating in others.

This is all true, but awakening is work and that work is likely to be painful. Change and growth cannot happen without awakening. Change and growth cannot happen without work or pain—whether a little or a lot...and I hope you are prepared for a lot. There is no point in sugarcoating the truth here. “Ignorance is bliss” is not just a cliche, it is a very accurate truth. If you want to “wake up” to the reality of life, you may be in for a lot of hard work and a world of suffering.

However, the intent of awakening is to alleviate suffering. Alleviate does not mean “to remove or take away”. Alleviate means “to make less severe” and your suffering will be less severe if you are awakened to your emotions and sense of self. The suffering you cause in others will be less severe as you become aware of your actions and/or behaviours and, thus (hopefully), take steps to change said actions and/or behaviours.

Being put through the fire, being tempered like steel, being beaten and shaped by the hammer and anvil are all extremely poetic and extremely accurate metaphors for the act of awakening.

Awakening makes you stronger.

Awakening has possible exponential benefits for everyone and everything around us. By doing work in your own life, it is possible to influence others. Influencing others to awaken may create a snowball effect of change throughout large groups of people. It seems that everyone is crying for change these days. Can you imagine the shift in our world if everyone started to look within and changed their self first?

I do realize that particular hope is mildly futile. It is a great hope, but the unfortunate truth is that most people prefer to stay asleep. Most people seem to prefer to clamour for change and wave placards and march and protest rather than look deep within and face their own emotional turmoil.

Is there a time to clamour and wave and march and protest? Absolutely! But those types of actions require dedication and inspiration and well-thought planning. They also require sacrifice. The greatest revolutionaries often sacrifice their physical lives to their causes. Until you are prepared to do that there is no point in taking up any cause.

Awakening is a potential engine for creating great and very real change in our world without the need for placards and marches and protests. Can we sacrifice our pride? Can we look within and actually feel our emotions? Can we face our pain?

We can and we must if we ever hope for the civilized world to survive. There is no more important step I can think of than for mankind, as a whole, to shake off the shackles of sleep and to awaken the inner conscience locked inside all of us.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Thinking Small

Those of you who know me even a little bit probably understand that I have a bit of a fascination with religion / philosophy / “God” / et cetera. You probably also know that I have a very religious past—so religious, in fact, that I now feel like I belonged to a socially-accepted cult and I have a lot of emotional / social baggage that I still carry around from those days.
Anyway, this note is not to harp on that subject again, except to provide a little context as to why I start writing things like this.
Over the past few weeks I have watched numerous episodes of the various BBC nature series such as Life, The Blue Planet, Frozen Planet and other similar documentaries. I am also frequently thinking about the Cosmos reboot featuring Neil Degrasse Tyson. I go for walks among nature and am continually fascinated by the plants and creatures that I see around me.
Does it make me think that “God” does possibly exist?
I ask this question because I know that many people look at the vastness of nature and space and believe that “God” absolutely has to exist and I must admit that they could be right, but I have started to look at the possibility of “God” existing in a different context.
The Evangelical Christian God is considered to be vast, all-encompassing, all-knowing and practical unknowable except through Jesus Christ. Personally, this concept no longer works for me. I can believe in a real-life Jesus that may have been an enlightened teacher, but I can no longer believe in Jesus Christ the Son of God (and have not believed such for over 9 years now).
In light of all the documentaries I have been watching I am coming to believe that the larger an organism is, the greater ability it has to manipulate its environment, but the less it actually contributes to its environment. Perhaps this generalization mostly applies to humans, but it seems to hold true for most large creatures.
By the this definition, the Evangelical Christian God must be almost entirely useless if he is, indeed, so large as to be nearly incomprehensible. A large, useless God also fits with my belief that perfection can lead to nothing but stagnation.
However, I may not be done with God. The Evangelical Christian God is one narrow viewpoint within a sea of variability, so let us turn our telescope pointed at God around so it becomes a microscope.
Ahhh, see? The microscopic world is where everything happens. Life begins at this stage and life ends and begins anew at this stage and it repeats and it repeats and it repeats. Matter cannot be created nor destroyed, it can only change forms.
And how far down does this microscopic world go?
The fact is, we don’t know. The universe may be infinitely expandable, but what if it is also infinitely compressible? Atoms make up the molecules of Earth’s elements, but smaller quarks and particles make up atoms, and even smaller things make up those things, and smaller things make up those things, and...well...how far does the rabbit hole go down, Alice?
And maybe at the bottom of it all—at the smallest of all possible smallness—lies God. Making it very possible that God is, indeed, within every single one of us and within every living thing.

Monday, May 9, 2016

They Should Have Called It "Monster"

My partner, Christine, and I avoided it for as long as possible, but it finally happened yesterday: we bought a new lawn mower.
Ah, the humble lawn mower. I am not sure if too many other household items make such a direct statement on a couple’s relationship and announces that you are, indeed, planning on staying in the home you bought together for what will most likely be a decade or two. You don’t believe me? Think about it. When you buy your first mower, what do you do? Search the “used junk” ads and try to spend as little as possible. You are practically screaming, “We’re not sure if we want to commit to this!”
Trust me, Christine and I did this very thing when we bought our cute, little green house with a lawn the size of Buckingham Palace. Were we at all daunted by the thought of mowing that monstrosity with our 17”, electric, corded mower? Of course not! For the low, low price of $60 and the purchase of a 100’ extension cord we could keep our environmental ethics intact and turn up our snooty noses whenever our neighbours cranked up their noisy, polluting, gas-guzzling mowers.
And we did exactly that for three whole summers. Three summers of reluctantly tramping outside once a week to lug a 100’ extension cord around a million square feet of useless lawn by attaching it to a Fisher Price mower. And it definitely did have to be once a week or there would be more grass than the little mower could handle. It would gasp and choke, almost stop, and then vomit out great clumps of partially masticated turf onto our shoes. So, I am quite certain that you can imagine our profound (and carefully hidden) relief when our geriatric mower decided to give up the ghost last week. We looked at it sadly and hung our heads in respect while secretly giving each other semi-high-fives when we were certain no one was looking.
However, reality swooped in and smacked us in our heads because we now had a choice to make...what was the replacement mower going to be? So, we began to search the “used junk” ads and we discussed. And we talked. And we discussed. And we talked.
We wanted a reel mower. No electricity, no gas, no cord, no bother. But we had tried a reel mower when we first bought the house. It had bounced and skidded across our lumpy lawn, snipped a quarter inch off a few stalks of grass, and then become horribly lodged in a tangle of clover. No, a reel mower wouldn’t do. We were certain it would work well on a smooth postage stamp, but not for our resource intensive wasteland.
I was looking at large, powerful (and expensive) electric mowers when Christine admitted to me that she hated “The Cord”. Secretly, I did too and this gave me the opportunity to propose spending even more money on a cordless electric mower.
Ah, the cordless mower. The utopia of the mower kingdom. Quiet, powerful, and...wait...what do you mean, “the battery’s dead already”?
Yes, unfortunately, the cordless mower still has a long way to go. Mowing grass is an extremely difficult task for a machine to perform. It takes a lot of energy to overcome that much resistance and in order to do that batteries are going to be depleted in a hurry. We calculated that even the best cordless mowers might, just barely, might be able to complete our front lawn using the charge of two batteries. We could envision our relationship ending due to spending one thousand dollars on extra batteries and heated battles of “Rock, Paper, Scissors” to see whose turn it would be to spend the entire week trying to get all the grass mowed. By the time the back was done, the front would be six inches tall again.
We hemmed and we hawed and we hung our heads in shame and mumbled quiet affirmations to that fact that we absolutely, positively, without question, indubitably needed a gasoline-powered mower.
11am Sunday arrived. We climbed in our little truck and rambled off to Peavey Mart. And then Canadian Tire. And then Home Depot. And then Wal-Mart. And then a smaller Peavey Mart in a smaller town. And finally, once again, Wal-Mart where we purchased “The Brute”. 163 CCs of “Brute” power. Self-propelled. 22 inch cutting width.
My god. What had we done?
We brought it home. We unpacked and assembled it. We put oil in it. We put fuel in it (after filling our tiny, cute, brand new jerry can).
May 8, 2016, 4:51pm: The silence is shattered, when, on the second pull of the starter cord, “The Brute” roared to life. It was angry, it was exhilarating, it was...fast! I hit the bar to engage the FWD self-propelled wheels and “The Brute” leapt ahead like an Acme rocket leaving me behind like Wile E. Coyote.
May 8, 2016, 5:15pm: The mower is silent. The lawn is shaved like a newly enlisted marine and I am staring, dumbfounded at the time on my phone. What took 40 to 45 minutes with the old mower took less than 25 minutes with our Brute.
I struggled and wrestled with “The Brute” to put it to bed in the shed for the night, but once it was in there it seemed happy and I gave it a smile and a pat on the head and said, “Good Mower” to it.
The old Black and Decker electric was unceremoniously dragged out and slung into the garage with the other junk. There could be a Frankenstein lawn mower project in my future.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Review of a 2002 Pontiac Sunfire

Is it strange to review a going-on-13-year-old car? I am certain it is, but I feel the need to write something and the fiction is not flowing, so perhaps a little non-fiction will get the ideas running.

I did not purchase my first car until 31 of my (currently) 40 years had passed me by. Before that I had subsisted mostly upon my father's hand-me-down vehicles. When he was done with one, it became mine. This behaviour was partly due to his wish that I have a reliable vehicle for my family, partly because I had no money, and partly because I am his only son and he just wanted to help me out. It is unfortunate that neither my father nor I realized that purchasing your own vehicle is an important step into adulthood and perhaps an even more important step into manhood.

At 30 years of age, I was married with 3 children, 3 cats, a dog, a 1992 Dodge Spirit that recently hopped the 400,000 km milestone, and a rusting, gas-guzzling 1992 Ford Aerostar. My wife had just traded in her Dodge Stratus for a next-to-new Volkswagen Beetle and I was somewhat ticked that she had not passed it on to me as the trade-in value was next-to-nothing and I really needed a new vehicle. This was typical behaviour for her — what was hers was 'hers' and what was mine was 'ours'.

At the time, I was a huge fan of hyper-miling and fuel economy, so I bought the ultimate in basic transportation: a 1995 Geo Metro.

Trust me, this is all leading up to the Sunfire.

The Metro was the first car that I had purchased on my own. No one gave me advice, no one told me what to look for, no one told me what to watch out for. That was probably a good thing since the Metro came with quite a list of parts to replace and I cut my mechanic's teeth on that little car. I have never been able to afford to bring my vehicles to a mechanic, so I learned to do the work on my own with lots of help from Haynes manuals and the internet. The Metro was truly the perfect vehicle to learn on as the motors are extremely simple to work on, parts are cheap, and the vehicle is so light that jacking it up is not the least bit scary.

The Metro stayed with me through my deconversion from Christianity and my separation from my wife — the little car was far more reliable than God and kinder than that woman. Unfortunately, as I changed and grew as a person, I felt there was a need to choose a new vehicle that could kind of be part of the "new" me and grow and change with me.

So, the Metro went up for sale and the Sunfire was bought from a dealer in Leduc, Alberta purely by chance as I had actually been looking for a Saturn Coupe. I absolutely did not want a Sunfire, but I let the sales guy talk me into taking something for a test-drive (the Saturn Coupe they had had on the lot was sold) and the Sunfire genuinely surprised me.

As this was my second car to purchase on my own, I had a list of criteria that I really wanted the vehicle to meet: less than 10 years old, less than 100,000 km, coupe, manual transmission, alloy wheels (no more hubcaps!), air conditioning, and a great stereo system. 40 miles per US gallon was a somewhat-flexible condition and I discovered that the Sunfire will meet and exceed that number on hot days with careful driving (I managed a 50 miles per US gallon stretch from Olds, Alberta to Red Deer, Alberta at one point).

The Sunfire met all my conditions (72,000 km on the ticker) and it was black. Love at first drive.

Were I to add a few more conditions today, they would be: power mirrors, maybe power windows, sunroof/convertible, 170 horsepower minimum.

The Sunfire has been mine for over six years at this point and it is still running well. It has required no major repairs, is just shy of 200,000 km, and the clear-coat is starting to peel on the rear quarter panels. The rear-bumper is cracked due to being rear-ended in Calgary, Alberta a couple of winters ago and, stupid me, I did not make a claim to get it repaired.

I believe the wheel bearings will require replacement soon and I have a myriad supply of upgrade parts to install on it — new exhaust and lowering springs (finally did the brakes and added 17" wheels last year).

The car is comfortable and handles well on long trips. Not much more can be said about the machine. I have always said that it is an "econo-bucket with a fancy lid".

There are a few design flaws in the Sunfire. First, the seatbelts. There is no 'stop' or anything to block the clip from sliding down the belt and onto the floor when the seatbelt is off. When one gets into the car you will almost always have to crack the door open to grab the clip that is wedged between the seat and the door. Second is the placement of the environmental/blower controls. They are placed extremely low on the dashboard so that you actually have to look down (away from the road) to adjust them. Also, the cupholders are right in front of them, so if you have a couple of drinks filling the cupholders, have fun changing the hot/cold settings. Also, with the manual shift in fifth gear the stick right in front of the controls so you have to reach over and behind the shifter to reach them. Ridiculous and very, very poor design. Third is the all-around vision within the cab. Not bad, but not great — especially when it comes to shoulder-checking out the driver's side.

However, those are the only real complaints I have with the car. A surprisingly well-made GM product with the bonuses of ABS and a hydraulic clutch — things you do not usually find in a low-end vehicle.

By the way, my Sunfire is a non-GT coupe, so it has the 2.2L OHV (Over Head Valve - fancy speak for old push-rod tech) instead of the 2.4L DOHC (Dual Over Head Cam). Unlike the GTs, my Sunfire won't blow its head gasket right around this point in its life.