How about if each of us eight billion folks regularly receives a standing ovation?  Not because we’re smart or pretty or athletic or young or famous … but just because we’re human beings.

I know your pains, you know mine.  Not all of them, but there are universal ones.  And we do our best to pass beyond them.  Sometimes it’s hard, and we need people to give us a nod, a smile.

I have a reel to show you.  Tiny boy, giant bike, steep hill: all the ingredients for amazement.  And the road is lined with the young and the old and the in between, doing what human beings should do naturally … connecting.

Please let the ascending moments sink in.  Watch the faces shine.  See the legs pumping on the pedals.  And cheer on this young man.

I’ve attached the reel for your viewing pleasure but I don’t know how to stop it at the end.  It goes on to the next reel.  Oh well.

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1atcTgFPNq/

***

I would love to be there for your next slope

Let’s say there are two somethings.  I’ll call them A and B.  Perspectives on life.  Both have value but one is senior and one is junior.  More valuable … and less.

“According to whom?” you ask.  In this post, according to me.  You’ll have your own perspective.

So here goes …

Here  <>  There

This  <>  That

Then (past)  <>  Now <> Then (future)

We  <>  Me

Kind  <>  Smart

Beauty Within  <>  Beauty Without

Lingering  <>  Hurrying

Eyes  <>  Mouth

Notebook  <>  Wallet

Red, Yellow and Blue  <>  Grey

Water  <>  Stone

Singing  <>  Lecturing

Open Hand  <>  Fist

Please Come Here  <>  Go Away

The Challenging Life  <>  The Easy Life

Ageless  <>  Young

Black, Brown and White Skin  <> White Skin

All Languages  <>  English

Male and Female  <>  Male

Joys and Pains  <>  Joys

Yes  <>  No

I went to a dermatologist a few weeks ago because my family doctor was concerned about a few marks on my back.  I leapt to the possibility of cancer.  It wasn’t.  The doctor froze the spots, saying the skin would fall off “in a week or two”.  Some of them did.  One didn’t.

On one of the marks, a little flap of skin loosened but the rest of it was still attached to my back.  I fingered the flap several times a day, urging it on.

There we go … two paragraphs about something so minor, but also symbolic.

In Canada I loved walking in the woods in the fall, watching the leaves drift down.  Here’s a red one, perhaps in the last moments of clinging before letting go.  Happily, my wanderings were not punctuated by upturned shouts of “C’mon.  Drop!  I don’t have all day.”

And then there’s the butterfly, struggling to break out of the cocoon.  There have been stories of empathetic human beings “helping” … and the butterfly afterwards being too weak to fly.

For good measure, here’s another example:

I’m weak, sleepy, at times dizzy.  My granddaughter Maryna is also my personal trainer, and I have a session scheduled with her tomorrow.  I would like to have fitness return really fast.  But what I like is irrelevant.  My body is saying no.  I’m saying no.

***

I’m discovered a good guiding principle: When in doubt, consult a poet.  In this moment, it’s John O’Donohue …

This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light

If you remain generous
Time will come good
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning

The Internet giveth … The Internet taketh away

Here’s a wee giving

Actually not wee at all

On a grey, rain-soaked afternoon in April, 2016 in San Francisco, California, as President Barack Obama walked across the tarmac from Marine One following a series of fundraising engagements, seventeen-year-old Malia walked beside him – and without a word, without a pause, without any apparent awareness that dozens of eyes and cameras were trained on his every movement, the 44th President of the United States angled his umbrella entirely away from himself and over his daughter, his own left shoulder collecting the rain while Malia stayed dry.

So simple, so profound, so needed …

And now the comments from Facebook users.  You and Me … You or Me:

***

My President

Wished his umbrella would have caught the helicopter blades and took him with it.  Just saying.

***

He was the greatest President of all time.

It was her umbrella.  She just let him play with it.

***

A True Leader, A True President, A True Dad.

Barry and one of his rented kids since 2 dudes can’t have kids together 😂

***

Humility at its best!

Trump would have made his daughter hold the umbrella for him!

***

That’s just what a dad does.  I’m lucky enough to have a dad that does that and still opens the doors for my mother, my sisters and myself ❤️

Gay and tranny

***

Not just a photo-op either.  This man would do this on any given day.

It was staged, dumb ass.

***

(Sigh)

What’s true today?

1.  I’m exhausted, and have been for six days or so.

2.  I want to veg out with a movie on TV, rather than spend energy writing.

3.  I’ve written a blog post on WordPress and Facebook for 23 days in a row.

4.  I want to keep my streak going.

5.  I’m not sure how to answer this question:

“Is continuing the streak so important that I’m willing to write anything … whether it’s valuable to someone, useless or in between?”

Other facts:

I once wrote a blog post for 125 days in a row.

Three days ago, another streak ended – studying Dutch on the Babbel language app for 97 days in a row.

***

Okay … here’s what’s so right now:

I feel bad in my bod

I don’t want to be a total recluse

And so I’m putting something out into the world

I’ve never hated anyone.  I’ve loved many.

The realm of human connection is supreme.  The realm of beer is far less sweet. 

I digress …

I revere the movie Sunshine On Leith.  It’s a love story.  Here you see Jane Horrocks and Peter Mullan singing to each other.  They’re married in the film – Jean and Rab.  And marriage, of course, is an undulating wave of emotions.

Hear Jean’s despair in another song:

I like the smell of petrol
I love the taste of booze
But I hate my love for you
Yeah, I hate my love for you

I like Johnny Cash singing “A Boy Named Sue”
But I hate my love for you
Yeah, I hate my love for you

And so it is with me and another beloved – Westmalle Tripel:

I came to Belgium three years ago, eager for the taste of supreme beer.  And I fell in love … with the brew you see before your eyes, entrancing with its 9.5% alcohol content.

Entrancing as in “capturing someone’s complete attention, fascination or admiration, as if by a spell”

I savored a Westmalle Tripel during the late afternoon yesterday.  The nausea grew in the evening.  It awakened me at 4:00 am.  It disappeared at 6:00, only to reappear at 9:30.

I can feel it – the sad end of a love affair.

The moaning voice …

No more

Stop doing this to yourself, Bruce

…  Okay

***

Human beings I hold close to my chest

Westmalle I say goodbye

I would like to make a contribution to life every day.  Today I sat across from my daughter Isabelle as we traded stories and love.  Mission accomplished.

Now in the evening I want more to flow from me … out to the you’s who reside on Facebook and WordPress.  But I’m fading fast towards sleep …

What I want to do is contribute, to elevate your day, to bring a smile to your face.  The words don’t have to be mine.  I can borrow some great ones.

And so … voilà below!  Thank you, dear unknown author, for your words.  May they land on at least one reader’s heart.

Just as the soft rains fill the streams
pour into the rivers
and join together in the oceans
so may the power of every moment of your goodness
flow forth to awaken and heal all beings

Those here now
those gone before
those yet to come

By the power of every moment of your goodness
may your heart’s wishes be soon fulfilled
as completely shining as the bright full moon
as magically as by a wish-fulfilling gem

By the power of every moment of your goodness
may all dangers be averted and all disease be gone

May no obstacle come across your way
May you enjoy fulfillment and long life

For all in whose heart dwells respect
who follow the wisdom and compassion of the Way
may your life prosper in the four blessings
of old age, beauty, happiness and strength

I slept for three hours this afternoon.  I cancelled my volunteering at the nursing home.  I cancelled my cello lesson.  I was exhausted … and still am.

My mind went here:

Weak   >   Dead

Less spectacularly, I did this:

Weak   >   Not going to Dour in July

(Dour is a techno/rock festival in Belgium)

While the reality is simply …

Weak

I have a choice when gazing upon my current state of being:

Good   …   Bad

Let’s go with the first one.  What I have now is weakness.  Runs in the human family.  And I’m one of them.

I associate the phrase “Stiff upper lip” with British people.  Probably lots of other folks as well.  At the moment, my lips are sagging … loose on the face, without glow, a pale reddish tone.  So be it. 

I’m falling into something.  Most recently, that’s been sleep.  Here’s a poem that delights in this sublime life experience, written by William Blake:

A Cradle Song

Sweet dreams form a shade
O’er my lovely infants head
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy silent moony beams

Sweet sleep with soft down
Weave thy brows an infant crown
Sweet sleep Angel mild
Hover o’er my happy child

Sweet smiles in the night
Hover over my delight
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles
All the livelong night beguiles

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs
Chase not slumber from thy eyes
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles
All the dovelike moans beguiles

Sleep sleep happy child
All creation slept and smil’d
Sleep sleep, happy sleep
While o’er thee thy mother weep

Sweet babe in thy face
Holy image I can trace
Sweet babe once like thee
Thy maker lay and wept for me

Wept for me for thee for all
When he was an infant small
Thou his image ever see
Heavenly face that smiles on thee

Smiles on thee on me on all
Who became an infant small
Infant smiles are His own smiles
Heaven & earth to peace beguiles

***

I am this child

I was talking to somebody about something, and I started a sentence with the words above.  And there was something “above”.

Over the years, I’ve often repeated certain phrases without thinking about what they mean.

As far as I can tell …

I can grasp things that are nearby, but perhaps not those that are far away.  And how far does my vision spread?  Maybe not far enough for the glories of life to be deeply revealed.

Sometime in my past, a person said “We’re only aware of 4% of reality.  The other 96% is unknown.” 

And last night, during a retreat, our teacher said something like “Our molecules are 99.9% empty space.  Our bodies look to be solid … but they’re not.”

A few nights ago, I sang a lovely song at an open mic session: The Wings That Fly Us Home.

And the spirit fills the darkness of the heavens
It fills the endless yearning of the soul
It lives within a star too far to dream of
It lives within each part and is the whole
It’s the fire and the wings that fly us home

***

Seems like it’s pretty empty out there

And far away

And right here

I am deeply blessed.  I have a Daughter named Isabelle and she has a Dad named Bruce.  I have a Granddaughter named Maryna and she has a Grandpa named Bruce.  There’s nothing on paper, nothing legal … but the emotional connections are real.

Today I accompanied Maryna to a school in Gent where kids learn to speak Russian.  I was going to meet her daughter Nicole.

Imagine twelve boys and girls standing before a crowd of parents, first reciting a poem and then singing a song.  Wide open faces, wide open mouths.  Maryna pointed out which one Nicole was.  I waved … and she waved back!

And then the kids went to their moms, and gave them a handmade card which said in Russian: I love you, Mom.  From [daughter or son’s name].  Tears flowed from mothers.  Hugs lingered.

Next the families painted together.  Nicole saw that I didn’t have one of the small canvases so she brought me one.  The three of us shared paints and brushes.  And time.  And smiles.

Here is my creation, which now sits atop my bedroom mantle:

My family is growing