The odd ball, punk rock PT Barnum of therapists, Fritz Perls was famous for challenging people to lose their minds and come to their senses. This seems to be the work of any good therapist or stand up comic still to this day.

People can talk long yarns about why they do what they do. Some love to analyse their every twitching move and response. This seems exhausting. I’m unclear as to why it’s so important to burden our minds with making sense when our senses are always engaged. Our general ‘sense’ of things, how we feel about being alive and what we encounter can be really informative.

Luck and Lack

Two words that look great together. In my handwriting, they are only distinguishable by the context. My scribbles feature a pronounced ‘L’, a squiggle in the middle and an afterthought of a ‘k’. The ‘l’ and the ‘k’ are usually enough for me to determine the word.

It’s an important distinction, especially when it comes to our senses. Are you living with a sense of luck or a sense of lack?

I used to love to drive you know. I was a good driver, never got a ticket in my life.

My Nanny nodded with pride.

When did you get your license? How did you learn?

Oh dear, she chuckled, that was a fight. Your grandfather wasn’t fussy at the thought of me driving.

I knew this story but was desperate to hear her tell it again, hoping for a new gem to emerge.

He really didn’t have any say in the matter. I went down to the Dartmouth Shopping Centre. I took the bus. I got into this big old car with Carl McMurty. She shook her head and chuckled as she remembered. He had me drive around the parking lot. I pulled into a spot. Then I had to back out. He asked me a few questions about what the signs meant, then the next thing I knew, I’d passed the test. He gave me my license and away I went.

What happened with Granddad when you got home?

What do you mean what happened? I had my license. I had my own money. There wasn’t much he could do about it other than keep his mouth shut, which is what he did.

He was a wise man, I noted wryly.

I’m lucky I learned to drive. He passed more than thirty years ago now. Imagine what my life would have been like without being able to drive!

You likely would have moved to town?

Either that or some man would insist I need them. You wouldn’t catch me doing any thing like that again. Old men are just looking to have someone take care of them. I’ve had sense enough to avoid that nonsense.

He’s been gone thirty years. Thirty one this past October.

We settled into our tea. Nanny went through the lists. The people who have died and how they went. Her father. Her mother. Olive. Floyd. Bob. Her brothers. Verna. Her friends. Even the woman in Porters Lake who lived to be a hundred and thirteen.

None of us lives forever you know. You wouldn’t want to. But I’ve been lucky. I have my healthy. My children are all living. My grand children are all living. And I have so many great grandchildren.

She began a new set of lists. In mere moments, my nanny started with what was lacking - the people she loved and lost - and shifted to what and how she was lucky.

I could see that she had a felt sense of both of these things. She had a sense of lack and a sense of luck. Our primary senses - those of sight, smell, sound, taste and touch can be noticed at the same time. Right now my mouth tastes like olives, I hear a fan blowing air and I feel tightness in my wrists.

Our secondary sense that we’re somehow always lacking, desiring, longing for more can exist at the same time we feel bright, hopeful, opening optimism that comes from feeling blessed and feeling lucky. We are capable of feeling and noticing the feelings of more than one state at the same time.

Me? I just feel lucky.

I’m a fifty year old man who still has his Nanny around.

And she’s lucky too.

Actually?

Today she’s ninety two.

Happy Birthday Nanny.