I resist finishing that sentence – with an adjective such as “smart”, or a noun such as “a traveller”.
But yesterday …
I went to a concert. Seven teenagers presented themselves in song, plus one played brilliantly on the guitar. They are members of an organization where adults share their love of music with younger ones.
One of the singers is also a server at Lloyd Coffee Eatery. A few weeks ago, she invited me to last night’s performance. I said I would go … and I did.
As I walked in the door, my friend’s eyes widened and she bounced a bit. She started introducing me to her colleagues.
He isa writer
It’s the next morning, and those words still roam around in my head. I’m lofty … floating … gone.
I’m a member of the Core group of the Evolutionary Collective. There are about 65 of us Core folks, mostly in North America.
We have a deepened commitment. There are some Zoom meetings we’ve agreed to come to. For instance, either we come to an early call on one Thursday or a late one on the next.
What that means in Central European Time is showing up at 18:30 on Week One or at 02:00 on Friday morning on Week Two.
Last week was Week One. I was at an evening cello orchestra rehearsal.
So I was online this morning from 02:00 till 03:30.
A part of me grimaces … and pouts. The people in New York City don’t have to deal with this! Both the early and late times are reasonable.
However, my fomenting mind is conveniently forgetting that most of our members are in North America. In San Francisco, early is 09:30 and late is 17:00.
Do you have any alternative to suggest, Bruce?
Actually, no
To keep my word, I went to bed at 21:00 last night and set the alarm for 01:30. So that’s close to four hours sleep. After the meeting, I hit the pillow at 03:45 and set the alarm for 08:00, in the spirit of doing things this morning. So another four hours. That’s in the realm of eight hours sleep … “more than enough”.
I woke at 08:00 – exhausted. I realized that an immediate doing of things would be impossible. And then I complained about my inability to thrive on eight hours of slumber:
“A part of me grimaces … and pouts”
I shouldn’t have to deal with this!
My body (admittedly an older one) should be able to handle a wee hours interruption
***
And then two moments of insight:
1. It’s fair, not unfair. Inconvenient for Europeans such as me … but fair.
2. And then the whole story of “Fair … Unfair” faded away. It was simply the way things are. I don’t need to add my reaction. Doing so doesn’t serve me or the world.
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!
Bruce's Blog 