There are two types of people in the world.

Trite leadline?

Yup. And we’re going there anyway.

They say that the more you learn, the less you know. As a fool, I’m certain that the only certainty is uncertainty. And? When, I’m most certain, it typically doesn’t go well.

Scroll down to the section On Certainty, for more details.

There are people who understand that every human being who has ever walked this earth is flawed. They know that we humans are always dealing with incomplete knowledge. They know, deep down that imperfection is part of life. As such, they know that we are all fools, clowns, kooks and idiots. They know that nobody’s perfect. Everybody poops. They are willing to attempt to laugh at the absurdity of existence.

They are willing to be responsible for themselves.

I serve these fools.

It’s remarkably foolish to believe that we should approach serious issues like trauma, grief and depression with seriousness and gravity. These are serious issues. People are experiencing pain. People are suffering.

Where I live in Nova Scotia, the dominant approach to pain is to numb it. Turn it off. Make it go away. Pain has no place. Given the historic levels of depression and anxiety in the west, this avoidance may be more than just localized.

If you’re interested in exploring how our sense of humour and experience of levity are essential for survival, this work is for you.

So, if you’re an idiot and you understand that the world is filled with other gloriously imperfect idiots, The Book of Wrong Answers might be for you.

If you’re a fool who knows that when things are really so terribly painful that you just have to laugh, we might be a good fit to work together.

If you’re a kook who’s interested in exploring your kookieness and the power your shortcomings and the weakness of your strengths, Read on.

I’m here for you.

As for the other?

Leave them to me. I will deal with them myself.

One Derful Thing

Gone Skippin’

Math in the twelfth grade was not for me.

Once my spot in university was guaranteed, I stopped going and passed with a clean 65.

Perfect.

Instead of math class?

We piled into Danielle’s ancient Ford Escort and rattled off to the beach.

Class?

We were skipping.

On the beach?

We were skipping too.

There are few things as fun as skipping in the sand on a sunny day in May.

This is April.

It might not be sunny where you are.

There might not be sand.

And?

Skipping.

Actually skipping?

When did you last do this?

Publically.

Skip.

Don’t walk.

Don’t run.

Skip.

Notice the sensations and feelings that come up and report back.