Peter Rukavina's Podcast

Peter Rukavina

Found sounds, interviews, radio spots, and other audio from Peter Rukavina's blog.

  1. 4D AGO

    “The winds of winter might blow cold, but none of us will feel it”

    I received the sad news this morning that my friend Allan Rankin has died. I was introduced to Allan many years ago: he and Roy Johnstone and I got together to see about having me make websites for them. Both had just released albums, and there was a sense in the air—a tentative, early, faint sense—that musicians should have websites. And so was hatched AllanRankin.com. In the process I became a fan of Allan’s music: rich, evocative, well-crafted songs about the Island he loved so dearly. Over the years since, our paths crossed innumerable times, personally and professionally. Allan was one of my mentors in how to live a good life in my adopted province, and he bestowed a great compliment on me by calling me a “new growth Islander.” Allan was witty, creative, contrarian, and wickedly smart.  While he was a political candidate–he ran for the NDP against then-Premier Alex Campbell in 1974–Allan excelled at being just out of view. He was instrumental in nurturing the careers of many worthy public servants over his years in government.  He was an incisive writer, both as a songwriter and in the column he wrote for several years for The Eastern Graphic. By times a New Democrat and a Liberal, Allan ended as a fervant supporter of the Green Party, support that advanced the party’s cause greatly. My favourite times spent with Allan, though, were at the movies.  Both fans of action-adventure films, with partners who weren’t, Allan I would meet for late nite showings of the films of Tom Cruise at the Cineplex in Charlottetown, the hour and the circumstance giving an air of international mystery to the affair. My favourite song of Allan’s is Raise the Dead of Wintertime, a song that only Allan could write, and a song that so-captures a slice of Prince Edward Island. From Allan’s notes about the song: One perfectly still and beautiful winter’s morning at Christophers Cross, in western Prince Edward Island, Vincent Handrahan hitched up his little morgan horse and we took a ride over the back fields, surveying the supply of fire wood that had been cut and still needed hauling. That sleigh ride, and the hardworking and resourceful people of West Prince, inspired ‘Raise the Dead of Wintertime.’ I cannot help but have a tear come to my eye when I listen to him singing this line: And when at night we’re by the stoveOur bellies full and our stories toldThe winds of winter might blow coldBut none of us will feel it Goodbye, old friend. I will miss you.

  2. 2025-03-31

    So are you harvesting in the hours of the day in which you're dedicating yourself?

    From a conversation between Rick Rubin of the poet David Whyte on Rubin’s Tetragrammaton podcast: And then the last step I call harvest, and that’s the ability to bring in the harvest of everything you’ve been working towards. Both in the sense of, it might be harvesting a profit, but harvest in the sense of when you’ve produced a piece, it’s making sure it gets out in the world, and that you’re there with it when it’s out. So that’s another kind of harvest. Then there’s the celebration which is associated with harvest. So many places you’ve just achieved something really marvelous together, and a split second later the next day you’re on to something else. There’s no celebration, there’s no saying, let’s go out to dinner, let’s look at what we’ve done, let’s slap each other on the back, let’s just go out on the river on a boat for a day, and just say we did that, and we’re quite remarkable, and let’s just give it a rest for a moment before we turn our face enthusiastically to the next sowing. Then the real corollary of harvest though is, are you harvesting in the hours of the day in which you’re working, or are you working in a dynamic of conditionality?” “I’ll get to my happiness when I’ve done this project. I’ll do what I really want when the kids are through school, when the house is paid off, when I’m in a better relationship, when I’ve got this amount of money in the bank, when I’m retired, and the ultimate conditionality is I’ll get to it when I’m dead. When all the responsibilities have gone. So are you harvesting in the hours of the day in which you’re dedicating yourself? Because it’s not a passive process to work. You’re shaping an identity. It’s like practicing. You think of most people in what we call ordinary jobs. There are no real ordinary jobs, but you’re working eight, nine, if you’re in leadership, 10, 11 hours a day. Imagine if you practiced a musical instrument for eight, nine, 10 or 11 hours a day. Wouldn’t matter if you had any musical proclivity at all. You would become incredibly good at the clarinet, at the piano, at the saxophone. So you’re becoming incredibly good at whoever you’re practicing at being in the hours of the day. So Harvest asks you to say, by the way I am in my every day, who am I practicing at becoming? Do I actually want to become that person? (via SIX at 6).

  3. 2024-08-05

    The 2024 Oscar Wilde Award

    The awards for the 2024 edition of Island Fringe were presented last night, and among them was The Oscar Wilde Award, which I sponsor every year, presented to the show that “most effectively celebrates non-conformity.”  This year the jury selected the show So an Autistic Priest and Dog Walk into a Bar…, written and presented by Jean-Daniel O’Donncada, described in the program as a “storytelling emotional comedy about autism, religion, and love, with a dog,” and with this “accessibility note”: The show is 60 minutes long. It is sensory sensitive with no loud surprises, and no dramatic or changing lights. There is a live dog present throughout the show. Attendees with service dogs are encouraged to come a bit early so all dogs may be aware of each other’s presence before the show begins. In previous years I’ve prided myself—and benefited greatly—from seeing all, or almost all, of the shows at each year’s Fringe; this year, however, circumstances meant that I saw only a single show, After the Chorus Line. Olivia, however, did see O’Donncada’s show, and spoke highly of it, and the reaction to the award from the audience last night (and for both the Patrons’ Pick and Artists’ Pick awards that followed, both of which also went to O’Donncada), suggests it was a deserving recipient. As does his biography: I’m openly, and sometimes unashamedly, Christian, Québécois, Canadian, queer, autistic, and awkward. I get particularly passionate about making sure church and society do better at welcoming those who speak minority languages and those who think in marginalised, neurodiverse ways. I wrote in my note to the award winner: The world needs—demands—more of the non-conforming, and that’s why I sponsor this award. Please continue. And, when you are able, pay if forward. I have every reason to believe that Jean-Daniel O’Donncada will do exactly that.

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Found sounds, interviews, radio spots, and other audio from Peter Rukavina's blog.