Jackie Evancho

Sarah McLachlan

My dear wife Jody died in November, 2014.  At her Celebration of Life in January, 2015, I chose a few of my favourite music videos to honour her.  One of these was Jackie Evancho performing “Angel”.  In two weeks and a bit, I will do the same at an open mic session.

It’s a song of love … and of the sadnesses that life contains.  Here are my favourite lines:

There’s always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day

…

In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear

You’ll find Jackie’s concert video at the end of this post.  It still speaks of Jody.

“Angel” was written by Sarah McLachlan.  Jackie’s rendition left out a verse that contains more glimpses of the heart:

It’s easier to believe
In this sweet madness
Oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

Sarah’s video follows Jackie’s, and has the complete lyrics.

…

A young soul and an older soul

Breathing the words out into the world

A privilege to behold

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=S8pES-daRV4&si=x8pM1zWYB5NgDgST

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=NIryRIXye24&si=mkbS0Vpvk1y4W1tG

I told you yesterday about yelling at someone for the first time in my adult life.  Then a friend said “You were a teacher.  You never yelled at a kid?”  And a 40-year-old memory came.  So … yesterday I yelled at someone for the second time in my adult life.

This weekend I’m in an online retreat with the Core group of the Evolutionary Collective.  I told my yelling story to the group – about 60 folks.

The teacher asked me to let go of all the identity stuff …

I’m a good person

Maybe now I’m a less good person because I yelled at someone yesterday

I’m a bad person

My first thought was “If I drop all these identities, will there be anything left?”  The second was “Will I just be part of some bland spiritual soup, my molecules no different than the ones next to me?”

I didn’t voice these concerns in the meeting.  I just reflected on what the teacher said.

Something about paper, about lists, about figuring things out.  Words came back …

Let the piece of paper float away, Bruce

Today “identity” feels solid:

I am A

I am not B

I don’t want to be solid.

There’s a particularity that flows out of me, unique in the world.  I can’t stop that flow – nor would I want to.  Today it seems that settling on an identity gums up the flow.  A dam.  Stagnant water.

Hmm.  What a waste of energy – deciding on, constructing and defending an identity

…

On to the new

I did?  Me?  This nice little Buddhist guy who bows and smiles a lot?

Yes

For a few weeks now, my neighbour has often played his music too loudly, far beyond what I think the word “appropriate” means.

One time when I asked him to turn it down, he yelled at me.  I didn’t yell back.  That would have been bad, showing that I was a bad human being.

The next time my walls were rattling with downstairs music, I phoned the police.  I didn’t want to be yelled at again.  They told him to lower the volume.  He did, and then yelled at me in an e-mail.

It was 9:00 am this morning.  Music from within.  I knocked on his door.  No answer, but the volume went up.  I walked down to the street and looked up at his open window.  He was standing there.

Me: Turn down the volume!

Him: This is not America!

Me (yelling): Turn down the volume or I’ll phone the police!

***

Even though my memory is an inexact science, I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at anyone before in my entire long life.

Now it’s an hour later, and I’m tapping away in Izy Coffee.  The knots in my stomach about music at 4:00 am are gone at 10:00.

What is this?

Where am I?

What does it mean to be me?

My view of being a spiritual person has been stood on end.  Made broader.  Embracing more of the tapestry of life.

The issue with my neighbour is still there.  But my experience of it has been shaken.  Energy is flowing, not crammed into a box.  I am bigger.

And on we go

Photo by Sebastian Wienroth

I sat with a friend in a tiny park today, watching young boys kick a soccer ball around.  I couldn’t tell if it was two teams or just kids having fun.  I was having fun experiencing the pure joy of them “going for it”.

I took a photo of the action, but not the one you see.  My friend advised me that the boys would be recognizable in the picture, and therefore it was illegal to post it on the internet.  The photo above, although clearly not from Belgium, gives you a feel for the game.

No uniforms, no apparent strategy, just a lot of kicking, chasing and yelling.  I loved it!  Kids falling, kids skipping, passes usually off target.  The joie de vivre of the young ones – teachers of the old ones, if we’re willing to look.

The male teacher let the kids rumble over the makeshift playing field, with coats laid down as goalposts.  He let the bursting of ten-year-olds take over the local world, only speaking up when it was time to go.

Grass stains, muddy patches, sweaty faces … it was wondrous to behold.  I was lifted up in my soul.

***

Thanks, kids

You taught me

Photo by Arturo Esparza

The stream is cold, brisk, and my hands are bright pink, nearly numb when I lift them from the water.  What began as a game when I was a child in a bathtub has persisted over the years: If I can cup my palms just so, and press my outstretched fingers together, maybe the water will stay.  I manage, for a minute or two, to keep it from seeping out, but each time it inevitably finds its way through the spaces I cannot close no matter how forcefully I push together the sides of my palms.

I don’t know who wrote this but I’m glad they’re on the planet.

There is a flow in this life that’s beyond my calculating mind.  I don’t know where it begins.  I don’t think it ends.  If we say so, we are carried along, giving in to the current.  Some small minds may build dams to contain the uncontainable.  For awhile it seems to work but eventually the force of the water breaks through.

I have no name for what’s flowing past my ears.  The mystery doesn’t require one.  It is free, unencumbered by borderlines.

Even amid my daily troubles, there’s an opportunity to fall into the water, unconcerned by destinations, by fences, by figuring things out.

***

May I always have the wisdom to say no to clinging

And may I always have the wisdom to say yes to letting go

I thought I was so smart yesterday.  I was wrong.

As I headed off to Bruges, I put my phone charger and cable in my backpack, to make sure I could re-charge late in the day if needed and therefore have enough juice to access the train app when it was time to return to Gent.

And then it rained most of the day.  I was missing one tiny detail: “Put the cable in a plastic bag.”

Back at home last night, I tried charging my phone.  No go.  The cable felt moist.

This morning I tried again, thinking that an overnight drying out would do the job.  It didn’t.

Lying in bed, I thought of “Bruce’s Blog” – what you’re reading.  As of yesterday I had written a post for 156 days in a row.

The thought called “I can’t think of anything to write about” never came up during those months.  It might take a few minutes but something would emerge in my mind.

And the thought called “I don’t want to write” didn’t make an appearance either.

So I laughed horizontally a few hours ago.  “The universe (also called ‘technology’) may stop my streak.”

At 10:00 this morning my internet company Proximus came to the rescue.  The rep facing me across the desk said “It’s the cable.  It’s still damp.  And even when it dries out, it likely won’t work very well.”

Et voilà: a new cable, 25 euros.

***

And so …

My silly mistake

Proximus’ fast solution

157!

Many years ago, when I was living in London, Canada, I put together a booklet called “Spots” … maybe fifty locations in and around London that were lovely to behold.

They were places where tourists didn’t go.  Except for one spot: a gigantic Canadian flag blowing above the six lanes of Canada’s busiest highway – the 401.

On the train this morning from Gent to Bruges, I decided to write about a few spots I’d discover today in the medieval city …

Spot Number One

This is the Lovers’ Bridge in Minnewater Park.  It was built in 1739.  Folklore says that any couple crossing the bridge together will have eternal love.  So the two folks in red and purple are set for life!

The bridge wasn’t my spot.  The bench on which I sat was.  A bit secluded.  Looking up at the human beings.  Perfect.

Spot Number Two

The Sint-Elisabethkerk was built in the 13th century and reconstructed in the 15th after a fire.  It sits within the grounds of the Ten Wijngaerde Beguinage, where nuns still live and pray.

I got to sit in the quiet, and to reflect on the words “Laus Deo” (Praise God).

***

For awhile here in Bruges, the rain was on and off.  Now the rain is simply on.

In the spirit of optimism, here’s my next headline:

Spot Number Three

Undiscovered as of yet.  And perhaps it will remain so for the rest of the day.  Either the train home will beckon me soon or another wonder will reveal itself. 

…

Okay, it’s 17:10 (5:10 pm for the North Americans).  The Weather Network tells me to expect two millimetres of rain between 18:00 and 19:00.  I’m going home.

Sure, it’s possible that on the way to the train station, I may peek out from under my umbrella to find Wonder Number Three before my eyes … but I wouldn’t count on it.

Till tomorrow then!

Equality is the core belief that every human being has identical and absolute worth, dignity and spiritual essence before the divine, regardless of social, physical or external differences

…

Alignment is the state of harmony where an individual’s internal thoughts, values and actions perfectly match their deeper soul purpose, higher consciousness or divine will

and

Alignment is a deep shared sense of values, purpose and meaning that makes you feel connected without needing to force the relationship

***

The two words roam around in my head.  Their meaning together is greater than the sum of their parts.  They both have immense value.

Equality seems to be in the realm of performance: “Better than, worse than, equal” … but I wonder.  The definition I quoted comes closer to how I see it.  Spirit is at the core of each of us. It’s a fire.  It’s a stream.  It’s forever.

“Alignment” … how lovely.  Both within me and between us.  What you see is what you get.  And we interlace our fingers.

***

There are many fine words in the world

Here are two

Ajahn Chah was a Thai Buddhist monk who lived from 1918 till 1992.  So I’m older than him when he died.  Do I make as much difference in the world as he did?  No.

But so what?  I figure that when I die at 104, I’ll smile at the net positive effect I’ve had on people.  That’s good enough – more enhancing than diminishing.

Ajahn Chah said many marvelous things, some of which have guided me through the years.  Here are my favourites:

If you let go a little, you will have a little peace.  If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.  If you let go completely, you will have complete peace.

Looking for peace is like looking for a turtle with a mustache: You won’t be able to find it.  But when your heart is ready, peace will come looking for you.

The heart is the only book worth reading.

Trying to run away from suffering is actually to run toward it.

We only rent this house.  Why not find out who really owns it?

Just try to keep your mind in the present.  Whatever arises in the mind, just watch it and let go of it.  Don’t even wish to be rid of thoughts.  Then the mind will return to its natural state. 

When you walk, there is no need to do anything special.  Simply walk and see what is there. 

(In response to a student’s problem)  It’s uncertain, isn’t it?

It’s very simple.  Hold on to nothing.

***

It’s beyond the words.  And yet all you see here is what Ajahn said.  Perhaps we can also feel the vibration in his voice, which holds the true transmission.

Ajahn Chah died 34 years ago

And he lives today

He was an American singer with a big body and a big voice.  He was an explosion onstage.  You couldn’t not look.

And now Meat Loaf is gone, taken by Covid.  There’s a hole in the music world.

I’ve loved his music since the 1980’s, singing along with his Greatest Hits – “Bat Out Of Hell”, “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” and …

For Cryin’ Out Loud

And that’s what I sang last night at the open mic session at Salvatore’s.  I’ve wanted to burst the lyrics out of my mouth for many years but I was too scared.  It’s long (eight minutes), it’s difficult, it’s passionate.  “Not me right now.  Maybe someday.”

Someday showed up last night.  So did I, standing before an audience of thirty souls.

I had struggled with the learning.  My level of memorization didn’t feel strong enough to deal with sixty eyes looking at me.

Just do it, Bruce

So I did … with the passion, with a loud and soft voice taking turns, just me and my open mouth. 

I smile in the remembering.  I sang the song well.  I forgot a few words … no problemo.  And I reached many of the thirty.  That’s what I wanted.

The ending is tender.  It was a privilege to sing these words:

For takin’ in the rain when I’m feeling so dry
For givin’ me the answers when I’m asking you why
My, oh my, for that I thank you

For takin’ in the sun when I’m feeling so cold
For givin’ me a child when my body is old
And don’t you know, for that I need you

For comin’ to my room when you know I’m alone
For findin’ me a highway, for driving me home
And you gotta know, for that I serve you

For pullin’ me away when I’m starting to fall
For revvin’ me up when I’m starting to stall
And all in all, for that I want you

For takin’ and for givin’ and for playin’ the game
For prayin’ for my future in the days that remain
Oh Lord, for that I hold you

Oh but most of all
For cryin’ out loud, for that I love you
Oh but most of all
For cryin’ out loud, for that I love you
Yes but most of all
For cryin’ out loud, for that I love you

When you’re cryin’ out loud
You know … I love you

***

Thank you, Meat

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=8KyHDNQkBSA&si=bTR_x9WJxcjgcRQG