It’s a lovely and sad story penned by Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot.  Gord died in 2023 … but he is timeless.

The song has lingered in the back of my mind for years.  Recently it’s been whispering …

Please, Bruce, bring me out into the light of day.  Have my words drip from your mouth in the presence of other human beings

Okay.  I’ll do that.

“Home From The Forest” is about a lonely old man, scarcely noticed by the upwardly mobile crowd rushing past him.

I sing songs so I can feel what the people in them are feeling … and to have the audience feel that too.

Old

Poor

Alone

Here’s Gord:

Oh the neon lights were flashin’
And the icy wind did blow
The water seeped into his shoes
And the drizzle turned to snow
His eyes were red, his hopes were dead
And the wine was runnin’ low
And the old man came home
From the forest

His tears fell on the sidewalk
As he stumbled in the street
A dozen faces stopped to stare
But no one stopped to speak
For his castle was a hallway
And the bottle was his friend
And the old man stumbled in
From the forest

Up a dark and dingy staircase
The old man made his way
His ragged coat around him
As upon his cot he lay
And he wondered how it happened
That he ended up this way
Getting lost like a fool
In the forest

And as he lay there sleeping
A vision did appear
Upon his mantel shining
A face of one so dear
Who had loved him in the springtime
Of a long-forgotten year
When the wildflowers did bloom
In the forest

She touched his grizzled fingers
And she called him by his name
And then he heard the joyful sound
Of children at their games
In an old house on a hillside
In some forgotten town
Where the river runs down
From the forest

With a mighty roar the big jets soar
Above the canyon streets
And the con men con but life goes on
For the city never sleeps
And for an old forgotten soldier
The dawn will come no more
For the old man has come home
From the forest

***

In three weeks, I intend to sing this song at an open mic session in Gent.  On to memorization …

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=8OijusL04LY&si=4_12ahl7fhQlzC5u

Huh?  Those words don’t make sense together.  Or so I’ve said.

Perhaps there’s something new here.  Actually there’s no “perhaps”.  A light is shining that has never before brightened my life.

I’ve had several ongoing conflicts with my landlord.  When I dial his number, I’m scared.  When I write an e-mail … same.  As I await his response … again.

Up until today.

The current issue is the money he’s owed me for months.  I woke up this morning dreading how Chapter 23 of this ordeal would unfold.  And then …

I found myself smiling.  I leaned forward.  I was excited about the immediate future: hearing his voice and mine on the phone.

What!?

This does not compute

This isn’t me

Except that right now … it is.  Strange.  Bruce Kerr rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a battle.  No fear.  Instead being eager.

How did this arise in me?  There was no conscious decision to be brave.  It’s a mystery that leaves my mouth lolling open.

***

How does change happen?

One more time these words emerge …

I don’t know

My friend Catherine in Canada posted this photo in Facebook yesterday.  It got her thinking.  Me too.

John … yet another human being I wish I could have a chat with.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Why should we feel locked into our answer being a profession?  Why do people look at us strangely when we venture outside of the box?

Most of the time I’m happy.  Over many years, as folks ask me “How are you?” my response has naturally bubbled up …

I’m happy

I can hear in their heads “But you’re supposed to say ‘I’m fine’.”  Gosh … who ever invented “supposed to”?

I knew a 12-year-old whom I worked with as a volunteer in an elementary school.  She was graduating, and at one point near the end of our time together she said:

Mr. Kerr, I like it that when someone asks you how you are, you say “I’m happy”

I like it too.

Imagine the five-year-old John saying to perhaps a forty-year-old adult “You don’t understand life.”  We older folks should be so brave.

On I go … happy

(If you care to ask)

Safiya Al-Sayegh is a professional cyclist from the United Arab Emirates.  She is Muslim, and the only one in the peloton who wears a hijab.

In her twenty-five years, she has accomplished much as a cyclist and as a person.  And now she is at a crossroads.  Her sport and her religion.  How to balance them.  Does she choose one … or the other … or both?

We all face moments where different values collide.  And there are no easy answers.

But now Safiya has decided.

Being a Muslim first

Being a cyclist second

She has decided to retire as a professional athlete

Hear her words:

The past couple of years have been tough mentally, not because this sport is tough, but because I found myself in an identity crisis.  Being a Muslim woman that fully believes in covering and dressing modestly, and a girl that just loved racing, riding a bike, and that loved sports.

Can you feel Safiya?  Can you see yourself in her, whatever your religion, or even if you don’t have one?

As soon as I heard about Safiya, she immediately joined my short list of human beings I’d love to have coffee with (or whatever she chooses to drink).

For a while I have thought deeply what I’d like to be remembered by and I hope it can be good manners, smiles, trying my best to spread joy to the people around me, and a Muslim woman that tried her very best to show, wherever she went around the world, how lovely Islam is and that it is a religion of peace, balance and obedience to our creator, Allah.

Well said, Safiya

Fare thee well

If you look carefully at the photo, you’ll see the word “Unsplash” spread across.  It’s a marvelous website that has paid a global copyright license for thousands of images, so that we members can rest assured we’re not breaking the law.  Yay!

***

I love the picture.  It speaks so profoundly, beyond countless paragraphs of “meaning”.  After all, my insights probably are different than yours.  So I won’t add to the world’s verbal outflow.  I’ll just tell you a story …

About forty-five years ago, I was climbing a wooded hill on Canada’s Vancouver Island, close to the Pacific shore.  The trees opened to a space of grass.  The peak felt close.

And then the sound, muffled but real …

What is that?

…

Waves breaking on a beach!

Close … closer … almost there …

There!

The Pacific Ocean suddenly spread before my eyes, rows of white disappearing on the sand, one by one.  And the sky was smiling.

Me too

In the aftermath of Saturday morning’s bedroom ceiling collapse, there was a lot of clean-up.  Bits of plaster had invaded the cracks of my old wooden floor.  I scraped and vacuumed and mopped.

My bed was piled high with objects of my affection.  And there was only so much room.  So my lovely green fabric chair ended up in the living room.  I placed it haphazardly near a white chair.  I’d return it to its rightful spot in a day or two.

In one of my pauses, I looked at the two chairs.  And strange words formed in my brain:

They can’t talk to each other this way

So I arranged the environment to allow for connection …

You may doubt that chairs talk to each other, but I don’t.  There are mysteries in this life beyond my puny mind.

“Face-to-face” seems like a fine life principle.  Not at a slight angle.  Direct.

***

I’m a strange duck

I told my friend Dirk and my daughter “Alison” that I was going to Bruges today in search of a gigantic tree stump.  I had walked by it a few weeks ago and was stunned by its size.  I’d guess that it would take five adults with their arms spread to encircle it.

Here’s what I imagined the top would look like:

Last week I sought my large friend in the park where I remembered it stood.  No luck, probably due to an insufficient memory.

So I tried another park today … a long one by the river.  I realized that I’d come to the city on a single mission:

Find the tree!

Beholding other beauties of Bruges would be fine … but I needed!  I wanted!  I had to have!

Ah yes … another fine period of obsession.

…

And so I walked the path, hoping that all would be revealed.

Nothing … nothing … and then …

Something

There to my right was the stump – except it wasn’t.  It was a fully grown tree.  Very fully.

And indeed, it would probably take five people to do the job:

I sat long and long on a nearby bench, watching the sun come and go on the bark.  I smiled to know that this dear tree was alive and well and tall.

I shall return for further conversations

It rained a lot in Gent yesterday evening.  Water was dripping aggressively from my bedroom ceiling when I went to bed.  And running down one wall.

All summer I’ve been sleeping in my guest bedroom at the front of the apartment so I could have the windows open and try to cool the place down.

My bedroom is at the back, facing the Leie River … also facing many families of mosquitoes.  Opening those windows would invite a lot of itchy red bumps in the morning,  plus a lot of swatting overnight.

High temperatures are finally dropping down into the high teens Celsius, and I’ve had vague thoughts of moving back to my purple walls.

I’m here to recommend that you too hone the fine art of procrastination.  If I’d been sleeping in my bedroom last night, that piece of plaster you see might have broken my leg.  This morning I felt how heavy it was.

So thank you … whoever you are

For your divine guidance

I have two fully functioning legs today

It pleases me

Facebook stories often teach me … such as the one I read today about Jack Smith.  I’m not going to tell you his story.  Our friend AI can assist you here.

Jack is a remarkable human being … just as all of us can be.  Millions of people know what he stands for.  Very few know the same about you and me.

This morning Facebook is full of praise for Jack’s courage.  I invite you to replace his name with yours.  Imagine the world smiling at you, saying that you’re a good person.

You’ll often see the words “man”, “he”, “him” and “his” in these reviews.  Please add “woman”, “she” and “her” every time.

I’ve replaced “Jack” with “A” …

A takes every hit on the chin and never flinches.  His objectivity, research and application of our rule of law is flawless and irrefutable.

I think A is a man of experience and integrity.  The fact that he has not once “plead the fifth” and has answered every question asked of him says what kind of man he is.

[To plead the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution in US law: “refusing to answer questions or give testimony in order to protect yourself from self-incrimination”]

Thank you God for the courage of this man standing and speaking the truth.  He is so brave.  I know he has been persecuted for doing the right thing.  God bless him.

I think A’s unwillingness to charge ________ with something that A could not absolutely prove speaks to his integrity and how he conducted the business of his office.

It is so awesome to see one man stand before the wolves, the worst of humans, and still speak the truth.  A man with no skeletons in his closet, a man of integrity and one who can face the devil and walk out with his soul intact.  This man is a true patriot for his country and for justice.  I only watched a bit of the hearing and I have to say I could not have sat through the attacks with the calmness and integrity this man displayed.  A, you keep being true to who you are.  The Truth will be your victory.

I learned as a young person (now I’m older) that when someone calls you names it means they lost the conversation, and now are trying to bully the other person.  I also learned the person that is the loudest voice is usually the person that knows the least.  I’ve found these statements incredibly true.

Thankfully there are people like him.  He won’t bend a knee, grab his ankles or genuflect on command.  “I will not be intimidated” should be the battle cry …

If you listen and watch carefully when someone is speaking, there are many clues to truth or falsehood.  Toxic speech is a tool to cover deceitful distraction.  A’s background and integrity … exemplary.

I like my brain.  I don’t really know what it is, but that’s okay.  And then there’s my mind … a deeper mystery.

I’ve been on the planet for 77 years.  That’s a lot of moments.  Some of them return, in random fashion.

I’ve just decided to sit here in Izy Coffee and see what images bubble up over the next half hour.  Maybe lots.  Maybe none.

In the spirit of analysis, I’ll time myself.  It’s 10:22.  See you in thirty minutes.

***

10:52.

Here’s what entered me:

Pole vault

Bill Crothers running the 800 metres race in the 1960’s (I was there)

A girl laughing at me when I fell on the ice

Standing up Jean Deeth on a date when we were teenagers

Wearing my Superman outfit as I drove from Lethbridge to Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Two burning candles near each other

Shimmering down … from head to toe

My mouth opening now (it is)

A red coat

Couples holding hands

A waterbed, sinking into it

People with their heads down, frowning

Pulling the covers up to my chin

…

At this point I started meditating, even though I was in a coffee shop, with the sounds of a coffee machine, background music, customers and street noises.

…

Gentle raindrops

The skin of my face melting, dripping off my chin

Downward, sinking into

My arms growing longer to the sides

Leaking from the corners of my mouth

Singing “The Sound of Silence”

A snake slithering

My arms going limp

Bowing

Someone speaking Turkish?   Just the flow of sounds

Lying on my back, dying

Yannick, my mailman

Bruce Springsteen

Anne With An “E” TV series

Anne’s face

“Kindred spirits”

The sound of a tram … a past train journey

Grandpa’s farm, a train in the distance passing from right to left, billows from the steam locomotive

Grandpa’s cigar

Grandpa’s stories on the stone porch

Lips

Floating on my back on a river

A long waterfall

…

Quieter now, deeper into the meditation

…

A tiny brook in a Canadian mountain meadow

A cell phone ringing … A faraway voice saying “Go away”

Skin cells falling off

Falling face down into an abyss, smiling

Travelling down a blood vessel as it becomes smaller

My head falling backwards

People laughing far away

Someone hammering

Coffee machine

Pop music in the background

***

Well, that was fun!

Thank you, dear mind

Let’s do it again sometime