Right here rather than at the edge of the universe
Me rather than an endless we
I often need broadening … to have my eyes opened. Someone doing or saying something. Something happening.
Such as today …
I was innocently reading an article in Tricycle magazine, written by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, a Buddhist monk.
Certain words jumped:
The Buddha saw that the process of death and rebirth applied to all beings in the universe, and that – because it had gone on so long – it would be hard to find a person who had never been your mother, father, brother, sister, son or daughter in the course of that long, long time.
Alrighty then …
To my right in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, a group of fifteen musicians are sipping their cappuccinos. They are members of a woodwind and brass orchestra from the Netherlands. Are they my brothers and sisters?
I’m heading to the gym soon. All those folks sweating, lifting, and running on the treadmill – all mine?
Pema Chödrön is an American Buddhist nun in the Tibetan tradition. She writes marvelous books, in which her unending spirit spills from the pages.
Years ago, Pema spent a long time in silent retreat in her friend Helen Tworkov’s home. In Helen’s words:
Pema lived upstairs in an attic space, an open room with eaves that sloped down to the floor and two small windows at each of the peaked ends.
…
For seven weeks, we did not exchange a single word or once make eye contact.
In the Evolutionary Collective, one term we use often is “mutual influence”.
I move you. You move me
As I read Helen’s article, I was curious about how a silent spiritual master in the attic would affect Helen. It didn’t take long to find out …
My small universe became bigger and bigger until on clear days, with each branch encased in ice and prism light dancing on the horizon, it seemed that luminosity itself might loosen the house from its earthbound moorings and lift it into the sky.
…
The sacred sounds reverberated throughout the house like prayer flags strung from trees.
As a young man, I scoured used book stores in places like Vancouver and Toronto, searching for the world’s wisdom in books.
Jiddu Krishnamurti was one of my discoveries. He was an Indian spiritual teacher. One commentator said:
Krishnamurti asserted that “truth is a pathless land” and advised against following any doctrine, discipline, teacher, guru or authority, including himself.
Hmm … “including himself”. I vote for that.
I probably read seven books written by Jiddu. Decades later, I remember next to nothing of his words. However …
He resides within me
I can feel him roaming around within my muscles and bones
There’s a gift shop near me on the Oudburg that displays books about spirituality in the window – all in Dutch. I’ve been curious. Today I walked through the door. Minh welcomed me.
I’ve been attracted to the spirit of The Mother. She joined her life to the sage Sri Aurobindo, and together they became “two as one”. Sitting front and centre in the shop was a book entitled “De Moeder”, the story of The Mother written in Dutch. A part of me was reaching for my wallet, but the voice said “No. Something else is here.”
My eyes widened to two full shelves of Krishnamurti books. A quick perusal told me they were all in Dutch. A slower perusal revealed the volume you see here.
I like being inside a mist. It’s so cool … I can see the air! See-through and pass-through, easily.
Usually I’m not aware of the air. I look across the town square and first thing I see is the tree on the far side.
It seems like there’s a whole bunch of thoroughly solid things, better known as human beings, wandering around in the nothingness of space. Like there’s a huge contrast between the photo above and the one below.
But maybe not
Perhaps we’re porous flowing objects gently blending into the air, and then to the next porous flowing object.
What if there’s far more space than matter, even inside the complexity I call my body? Maybe each blood vessel has immense room to roam inside the supposed boundary of the skin.
And what of these thoughts? They appear to my left, linger awhile in the centre, and float away to the right … far past the rim of my visual field.
I live fifty metres from one of the most stunning buildings in Gent. I arrived here three years ago, and my awareness of this particular beauty has faded. Silly me.
Places to go, people to meet … too fast.
Like the tourists, I need to stop and stare at this ancient architecture. To be moved, to be brought to silence.
Here’s the complete picture:
1669
Animals
Human beings looking out at the world
I love the man playing his flute. And the family on the peak. And the windows with circles inside.
My eyes need to settle, to drink in the majesty … whether it’s a building or a person. To stay, not rush past to the next.
The remembrance and applauding of a fine human being happened yesterday in a New York City chapel.
Patricia Albere
She has contributed to the lives of thousands of people … including me.
The service was livestreamed to reach those of us who live far away. I watched as members of the Evolutionary Collective hugged each other, wishing I was there for the giving and receiving.
Friends, colleagues and Patricia’s son Alex spoke to us. I wrote down some things. Here is who Patricia is:
The soft voice in my head has guided me for years:
Love people
Make them laugh
Sing
So far, my singing has been at open mic sessions at Salvatore’s and Minard. Now it’s time for a broader horizon.
I want to sing in the open air. The Langemunt is a shopping street nearby … lots of cool shops. Months ago I bought new glasses at Eyes + More. Yesterday, when I mentioned to Virginie, the store’s manager, that I want to sing beautiful songs outside Lloyd Coffee Eatery, she said “Sing here. Right outside our door.”
Woh! An invitation. I feel stars aligning.
Armed with bright eyes, I set off to Van de Moer Instruments, where I’d bought a keyboard years ago. I told my story to Dirk, and he recommended the amplifier you see in the picture. And a good microphone. And a mic stand with a boom arm, to accommodate future cello accompaniment!
Eyes wider …
I don’t have the money right now to make this happen, but May 15 starts a new MasterCard monthly cycle. I wouldn’t have to come up with the money till July 4!
Be practical, Bruce. Don’t do anything rash
Yeah, right
In the spirit of moderation, I phoned Stad Gent (the municipal government) to see what flavour of bureaucracy might rear its lovely head …
No license needed … (check)
Be at least ten metres from a restaurant terrace … (check)
Be at least fifty metres from another street performer … (check)
Between 10:00 and 21:00 … (check)
No microphone and amplifier … (not check!)
The idea is that you don’t disturb people who live on the street. Okay, I get that.
However, I decided to do an experiment yesterday. I stood outside Eyes + More as shoppers flowed past, many of them deep in conversation. I started singing. And I could barely hear myself, much less anyone else clueing into what I was doing.
I’ve seen many street performers on the Langemunt. I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever seen one without a microphone.
So … what does all this mean?
I’ll pay for the equipment on May 15
It should arrive in the store by May 22
By the end of May, I’ll share about twenty* amplified songs outside Eyes + More
And if the police lock me up, I’ve heard that the food is really good in jail!
My friend Kobe says that he wants to write a book about me.
!
He says it’s a way for me to live on after I die.
How should I react? What should I conclude?
Perhaps I should let go of any meaning and just allow his gracious request to wash over me. “Thank you” feels right.
I’ve had oodles of chapters in this life of mine. So many human beings have come … and most of them have gone. I sense that I’ve made a difference with many souls, but I don’t know.
It could be that many students say to their friends “Do you remember Mr. Kerr? He was a good guy.” And maybe not.
I have countless stories to tell if Kobe is willing to listen. I think they’re interesting, but I’m biased. You might see things differently.
I wonder what I would title the book if I wrote an autobiography. Hmm. I’ll go with what just came …
I started writing Bruce’s Blog on June 20, 2014 … the day after I retired from teaching. I write on WordPress (or Jetpack). A few years after I began, I started transferring my words to Facebook.
Today is my 2500th post
Yay!
I just did the math. That’s more than one post every two days.
***
I’m proud of myself. Every paragraph over the twelve years has been a part of me thrown out into the world. And I’ve never had the thought “Today I’ll write something that will be popular. I’ll get lots of Likes!”
I write for you, to hopefully touch your life, open your eyes a bit wider, and make you smile. Only rarely do I write for me, in the times when woe is me, and tapping out words is my therapy.
Bruce's Blog 