Holy god in heaven, with so much going on over here—major decision making and now what appears to be hot flashing (information on that mess will be provided on an absolute need to know basis)—any pleasurable diversion is most welcome.

This past weekend, I finally watched a movie I’ve been meaning to get to for some time now: Searching for Sugar Man. Now I don’t normally bore you with the ins and outs of my Friday night activities, the highlight of which is usually a bag of chips, but this film is so extraordinary, so full of what it is to be human, that I just have to devote a few words to it.

It’s the story of ’70s singer/songwriter Sixto Rodriguez, an unknown in his native America, and unbeknownst to him, a legendary, believed to be dead superstar in apartheid-era South Africa. Sort of like me—I’m a nobody in Canada, but I’m huge in southern Lithuania.

Anyway, this blog is about France and Switzerland with random mentions of sagging body parts, but underneath it all, it’s about joy and purpose, and maybe even a little inspiration to deviate from the expected path. Sometimes, it’s about facing challenges and disappointments and, occasionally, I drift into the pleasure and pain of living more with less.

Searching for Sugar Man‘s elegant presentation of these themes left me breathless. Overarching life lessons aside, the poetry and music of Rodriguez, and the incredibly intriguing and sometimes heartbreaking story of his life and career, make for a documentary that should become the standard to which all others are held. It’s that good.

Far be it for me to tell folks what to do, but bear in mind that I used to be a doctor. If you haven’t seen it yet, I prescribe dropping whatever you’re doing to take it in. It’ll be good for you, shrink’s honour.

 

 

 

 

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