Monthly Archives: October 2018

Day Seven: Honorary American

I was so taken with the Waffle House restaurant that I decided yesterday to visit another of their stores – on the way from Cincinnati to Columbus, Ohio. Maple syrup and me!

I walked in the door and was soon greeted by all four employees: Jess, Juanita, Annabelle and Ashley. Four smilers. Beyond my menu choices was true contact – American to Canadian and right back atcha.

We joked around, I sang “O Canada” and other customers joined in the chuckling. How can I feel so at home in a chain restaurant hundreds of kilometres from home? Easy, when it’s populated by human beings.

As my mouth is waffling its way through breakie, Juanita appears with … a gift. It was a little paper hat, adorned with the stars and stripes. I was being declared an honorary American! Thank you, Juanita. I wore it proudly, both then and in Scarlet on the freeway.

And then it was time to hit the road. I exhibited the beginnings of wallet-emerging behaviour but Annabelle cut me off at the pass. “It’s on us.” I felt the twinges of protest but they blew away in the breeze. “Thank you.” We all waved goodbye … honorary and honoured, planetary human beings.

On to Columbus, a smile firmly planted on my face. Partway there, I pulled into a Shell station to get online with Evolutionary Collective folks. “Wear the hat, Bruce.” So I did. Soon, five other people were placing hats atop their heads – a ball cap, a couple of toques, a wide-brimmed jobbie and (from our friend in France) a beret. Well-hatted, we opened the hour with our companions. Sweet.

We affect each other
We see each other
We love each other

Day Six: Beeing

Yesterday Derek and I woke up to a simple fact: the orientation was over. The beloveds were either back at home or on trains and boats and planes. I lay in bed and missed them. The “space” we created together, or fell into together, was so immense. What kind people they were. I carry them with me and hope that our bodies mingle again.

Although my life has been punctuated with periods of loneliness, this is not one of them. I listened to a forgotten song today that had a glorious line: “My friends are my family.” Yes. Even when we in the Evolutionary Collective are physically apart, we touch.

***

Derek’s flight was to leave Asheville at 5:00 pm, so we had time to roam downtown. Funky shops, restaurants and people, including those who frequent a very sweet location on the planet:

The Bee Charmer is a fantastic little store. They always have a wide variety of honeys and products made with honey. Think soaps, lotions, beard balms, shampoos, etc. My favorite part is the sampling bar where you can try whichever ones they have in stock.

Indeed. We walked in and were greeted by the owner. “The Future is Female” declared her t-shirt, which was adorned with a queen bee. “What should we men do?” I asked. “Follow,” she smiled. We laughed.

So, what are your honeyed needs? How about a “Let It Bee” ball cap? Or, if you prefer, a jar of sourwood honey. Also consider:

The Naked Bee Hand and Body Lotion
A Monk in the Beehive
(a book)
Flowering Pillar beeswax candles
Honeybee dinner plates
(winged insects under your food)
Lick Me All Over perfume stick
(raspberry, cantaloupe and watermelon)

Now, all of these products are very nice but the joy was the people. I goofed around with three female employees. Although we said numerous silly things to each other, it’s about thirty hours later now, and all I remember is the smiles. And that’s not such a bad thing.

I do recollect the education I received from the woman at the honey sample bar. I didn’t know what an “infusion” was, and I was surprised to see twenty flavours presented to my eager lips. Yum. The woman glowed more brilliantly than her honeys.

Who knew that such treasures resided within the walls of 38 Battery Park Avenue? You could show up there sometime, and reflect on the narrator’s words from “The Bee Movie”:

According to all known laws of aviation
There is no way a bee should be able to fly
Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground
The bee, of course, flies anyway
Because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible

Day Five: Circles

Café 64 again. There’s a couple standing just inside the entrance. I glance up at them and before my brain can get into gear, I hear words inside my head: “the beloveds”. I sit back and wonder at my mind. How can it be that my thought-less expression saw strangers as most precious human beings? Such a mystery. And what is happening to me that I may be including everyone in my love?

(I wrote a little about Sunday on Sunday night. I’ve written nothing about Monday and the same for today. (Sigh) Plus memory is not my best subject. “That’s okay, Bruce. Just give ‘er a go.”)

Now it’s a dejà vu from Saturday. Family of four sits down. Two little kids. The boy starts playing on the floor. A waiter comes by and kneels down. “What’cha doin’? Is there magic stuff down here?” Boy smiles. A waitress joins in … on her knees. “Look at that. Gum!” Boy re-smiles. And I watch the consciousness of love show up in the employees and in the child and in us onlookers. Grace is catching.

***

Now, as I remember, there also was an orientation session on Sunday. May I remember some good stuff …

There was a time when I was sitting across from a woman and watching words bubble up in my experience. A friend of mine was standing behind me. I’ll call her “Jessica”.

I saw myself standing still. Other humans touched me at various points on my body. As each did so, my hand or elbow or calf would start melting and fall gently to the floor. I was dissolving, and the waves of energy took me apart. Soon, all that was left of me was my beating heart. All those hands reached out and squeezed the pulsing organ, feeling the in-and-out. Then my blood dripped between many, many fingers.

I think it was at that moment that a jolt of lightning lifted my body up and tipped my chair backwards. Jessica held to my shoulders and I righted the ship. “I’ve got you.” Spasms coursed through me. I shook, again and again. I smashed my knees together to stop the explosions, but that didn’t work. They subsided for a bit and then blew off their lid again. Jessica loved me.

Oh my.

At the end of the day, we were placed in a circle of eight people. While person number one took twenty seconds each to gaze into the eyes of us seven, the rest of us gently embraced him or her with our eyes. Music such as John Lennon’s “Imagine” rolled us through the silence.

Communion … person after person after person. Eight humans each being the centre of attention for seven others. It was a blessing, and continues to be in my memory. We were together in love. We are together in love.

Sometimes the moment brings me to silence. Such as right now.

Day Four: Love Blossoms

It’s not just in the orientation: love can unfold when the soil is rich. Derek and I started our day at Café 64. A woman smiled at us in welcome as we walked in the door and she never stopped. It didn’t matter who Dawn was talking to – the love came rushing out of her eyes. A couple walked in with their very young kids and Dawn was down on one knee in a flash, cooing at the infant. I shook my head in wonder as she greeted new folks. Finally I asked her: “Do you smile in your sleep?” She smiled.

Now in the hotel, our Evolutionary Collective orientation was well underway. During one practice, I was opening to the love offered by my two partners. A fellow looked at me and said “I want you to be so very happy.” No one had ever said such a thing to me. His words and eyes went deep into my heart. I was transfixed. Such a pure wish for my well-being.

Later in the day, it was again my turn to be the focus of attention. Three partners gazed into my eyes and then shared what they saw inside me. I heard words such as “spark”, “surprised at being loved”, “explosions”, “you are love”, and “both childlike and wise”. I was nourished. I was seen. Near the end of my time, the others were asked to call forth even more of me, for me to be an even deeper Bruce. Woh. And when it was someone else’s time to be at the centre, I delighted in looking way deep into their eyes and calling forth their best.

Six of us went to supper, and unlike many of my group experiences, the conversation was not watered down. We wanted to serve each other. So often comments were responded to by one of us, rather than the new speaker immediately starting up a new topic.

At one point, after I had been joking with Derek, he got really angry with me, saying that I wasn’t respecting his boundaries. I went to his eyes and stayed there. Even though I was churning inside with the criticism, I loved him from eye to eye. We maintained the gaze for a long time, and held hands for a bit. In the words of one of our witnessing companions, we “returned to love”. I was moved by our courage to “stay on the inside”, to not let the issue overwhelm the relationship. And our friends held us in love.

A white rose shone amongst us all.

Day Three: Loving Strangers

Our Evolutionary Collective orientation started today. Thirty-two of us gathered in a hotel meeting room to feel our way into “unity consciousness”, the sense that “we” is so much more powerful than “I”.

I knew about half the people in the room. Many of them I love deeply. I expected that when we’d do spiritual practices together, I would experience big differences in the depth of connection I’d feel with loved ones compared to strangers. The actual result? Not so.

Our first experience centered on two concentric circles of human beings. Our leaders had figured out a way for us to spend twenty seconds with each person, looking way deep into their eyes. Silent communion. Melting. Being with. It was a stunning cycle of love.

Later a new configuration was presented to us. Four chairs made a cross shape. After each was occupied by a fine human, another four folks took their places behind each chair, with their hands resting on the seated one’s shoulders. The lower people each looked into the eyes of the person across the way, while those standing did the same. The seated folks took turns describing what they were experiencing while all these eyeballs up and down met their partners. A multi-level lattice of sweet energy amplified by a sequence of voices. Immense power flooded me, and I was in love with humanity, especially the unique versions in the room.

As the afternoon flowed along, I “saw” a broad ribbon twisting around the room, festooned with all those lines of energy crossing at right angles. At the centre of each intersecting line was a human being and there were many, many intersections. A glowing community of life … stretching worldwide.

After day one, we’ve already created a holy space together. More opening to come on the morrow. To love and to be loved is a blessing beyond compare.

Day Two: Friend in Flesh

This is so cool. I’m sitting in the Waffle House south of Cincinnati, Ohio, eagerly waiting breakfast. I’m in a booth facing two lines. On the left, I see the profiles of five hungry guys wearing well-used jackets, some sporting toques on their heads. Man, do they know how to eat!

The right line features busy waitresses almost yelling detailed orders at the cook. He repeats the details and gets to it. The grill is right beside me, crackling away. My active friend is stirring eggs, flipping hashbrowns, and in general bouncing along. Food smells waft to my nose and soon a big waffle is entering my mouth. The place is nearly full and the atmosphere is so alive.

Hours later, my world has been filled with three lanes of speeding cars, impossibly steep hills, and the glory of coloured leaves. It was such a long day of driving and my right arm has been majorly sore. I think I jerked it madly to get away from yesterday’s tiny dog and then I held it rigidly all day at the steering wheel. Oh well.

I made it to Asheville Airport about thirty minutes before my friend “Derek”‘s plane landed. We arranged to stay at the same B&B as we experience the Evolutionary Collective orientation together. I’ve talked to Derek many times during our online practices but I was about to meet him in the flesh. I gazed down the arrivals corridor with great joy. And here he came, looking just like my laptop said he would. I first just stood and stared … here was one of my beloveds. We looked into each other’s eyes and then reached forward in a slow hug. Hello, my friend.

I was fascinated to see Derek in front of me. “You’re real. You’re three dimensional.” Yes he was, and I laughed at how marvelous it was to have him with me. This moment will be repeated several times tomorrow morning as EC Global folks show up at the registration table. Yay!

Derek and I got into Scarlet and started exiting the parking garage for our trip to downtown Asheville. Only one problem: I couldn’t figure out how to leave the building. There were gates, but no obvious place to pay and those ornery gates refused to rise when Scarlet nestled close to them. We did circles in the garage, seeking the Holy Grail of release, but none was to be found. Derek headed into the airport to seek professional advice but came back essentially empty handed. While he was gone, I watched vehicles in my side mirror approach a gate – and it magically went up for them! With Derek back in Scarlet, I tried to replicate others’ behaviour but the darned gate still stuck its tongue out at me.

There were two gates beside each other. Finally I figured that while my mirror had shown a left gate, I should have approached the right one in real life. And so I did … and up it went. Thoroughly humbled, we discovered that the true toll gate was outside the garage at the far end of the parking lot.

Defeated by a parking garage, we ventured into the world of animated discussion, a classic old B&B with wraparound porch, and a delicious meal at the Mountain Chef Bistro in Burnsville. Ahh.

See you tomorrow.

Day One Some More

So many vibrant moments as Scarlet and I wound our way along highways and byways. Imagine this: straight ahead is a roiling grey sky. In the near, however, the sun shines bright, animating two rows of yellow and orange trees. The contrast takes my breath away. I think of the three days ahead of me with other members of the Evolutionary Collective, and how we often reach stunning levels of consciousness.

Speaking of which, I had supper at Crosley’s Pub in Cincinnati, Ohio. John and Rich were sitting with me at the bar. “Why are you going to Asheville?” The most common thing that happens as I respond to a question like this is that my answer leads to an immediate change of subject. Not this time. These guys were interested.

It’s such a challenge to tell folks about “consciousness”. This is usually what I say:

“Let’s say you’re doing some job at work [or reading the menu at Crosley’s]. What’s going on in your mind is nothing special … just ordinary. But what if you’re thinking about someone you love? You want the absolute best for him or her. You want them to be supremely happy. Whatever is going on in your mind right then is different – richer, sweeter. Our group is heading towards experiencing that expanded consciousness far more often.”

Rich and John nodded and then shared moments of openness from their lives. John talked about the ecstasy he feels when playing the piano and I added that he was likely “being played”. We had a fine time.

When they got up to leave, the three of us fought over the bill. John said “You’re the visitor. I’ll pay.” I smiled and let him do that. “Besides,” he added, “you just got bit by a dog.”

Sadly, that was true. I had just settled into my B&B, and was walking down the street towards food. An older fellow came walking along with his mini-something doglet on leash. Little one took one look at a Canadian stranger, rushed me, and set his teeth into my right calf. Oww! Blood dripped, pain exploded and an apology flowed. “I’m so sorry. But you need to know that he’s had his rabies shots.” Yes, I did need to know that. Still, what a welcome to Cincinnati.

On we go. (Scarlet and me)

Day One: The Journey Begins

It’s a journey down roads and across borders … to Asheville, North Carolina. It’s also a journey of the heart. I’m heading to an orientation to the work of the Evolutionary Collective, a network of people from around the world who are exploring consciousness.

I’m a member of their Global Community where we meet several times a week on our laptops and smartphones. We ponder questions: What are the possibilities of relationship between two or more people? What is the future pulling us towards as we evolve? The heart of our work is a 30-minute practice where two human beings face each other and ask the question “What are you experiencing right now?” And on Friday, Saturday and Sunday I get to do this in the flesh, three-dimensionally.

To fall into this loving consciousness for an hour online is a blessing. What in heaven’s name will it be like when we’re in a room together for eight hours a day? That’s twenty-four hours of communion. I can’t even imagine.

I walked into Amy’s Restaurant in Strathroy, Ontario a few minutes ago. They just opened and breakfast beckons. I’m the only customer. A woman who I’m guessing is Amy just walked over to me, smiling. I returned her greeting and turned to face the empty tables.

“Welcome to Amy’s, one of the finest places to eat in Canada. I’d highly recommend you make a generous donation to her in your will since the food is so great.”

Amy just stares, and then breaks into another huge smile. She rushes over and gives me a sweet hug. (By the way, she is indeed Amy.)

We humans touch each other, if both parties are willing. And I’m so willing.

Thank you, Amy. We’re on that precious road together.

Lost in Love

“Write about this.”

“I can’t write about this.  I’d get a paragraph done and then have nothing more to say.”

“Is this real?”

“Yes!  Supremely so.  It sings in my soul.”

“Sounds good.  Just begin and see where it goes.”

“Where it’ll go is fifty words tops.  Far better to write about that.”

“Does that sing?”

“Well … not really.”

“So what kind of writing would that be?  I’d call it CRAP!  Write what you love or shut up.”

“Hmm.  Okay.  Fifty words here I come.”

***

I was on the Evolutionary Collective Global call on the internet tonight.  There were thirteen of us.  We began with the teacher teaching a bit.  My face started pulsing.  A soft energy encircled my eyes.  There was a sense of falling.  My muscles were falling.  I was slow.  I was soft.  Woh …

“What’s happening to me?”  I still felt safe but the space around me was huge.  It seemed endless.  My eyes were glazing.  I felt like I was swooning, falling into a very deep hole.

And then it was time for the thirty-minute practice with one other person, selected randomly.  “Pam” and I started.  We looked way into each other’s eyes.  More falling.  The thought came: “I’m lost.”  And somehow delightfully so.  There was no danger.  The swirls of energy on my face intensified.  Sharp edges disappeared.  All was blending.

I became disoriented.  “Where am I?”  Again, no sense of deficiency.  Just floating free, untethered from the mother ship.  As I looked into Pam, she appeared as The Beloved.  There was no feeling of romance, no hint of sexuality.  There was merely and fully loving my friend, wanting all good things for her, wanting her to be supremely happy.

I teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.  No joy.  No bliss.  Instead, there was awe … and a supreme dissolving.  There was no Bruce.  There was no Pam.  There was simply love.

The group had an opportunity to share towards the end of the hour.  I told the folks what I’ve told you.  Others touched on a similar lostness.  We were falling together.

Two hours later, I’m not as deeply in, but the space still surrounds me.  I’m wondering how I’ve been able to type these words.  All is soft.  All is sweet.  All is well.

***

Hmm.  Quite a few more than fifty.

 

This Marathon Life

I was rooting through my phone this afternoon for sports news, and came upon this headline: Levins Breaks Canadian Marathon Record.  In Toronto today, Cam Levins ran the 42 kilometres (or 26 miles) in two hours, nine minutes and twenty-five seconds.  Good for you, Mr. Cam.

I thought back to my own history in the marathon, grieving my natural aging and the decline in my athletic performance.  This summer’s early exit from the Tour du Canada bicycle ride still hurts.

How has it come to pass that a potpourri of body parts ache?  My left hip, left ankle, right knee, right thumb and central self-esteem – they all hurt!  But as soon as I type this litany of loss, I start smiling.  What a wacky life we lead.  Everything is changing, virtually every day.  New marathons of experience beckon.

I ran in five marathons, all previewed by many miles of training in the coulees of Southern Alberta.  In four of those marathons, I hit the mythical “wall”.  Somewhere around the 20 mile mark, the legs feel dead, with its many muscles demanding I stop.  Four times I did.  I especially remember the Calgary Marathon.  Vices planted themselves on every square inch of leg flesh.  On the count of three, they all squeezed.  Not only could I not run, I couldn’t walk.

1985 was special.  I finished the Vancouver Marathon, in a time of four hours and fourteen minutes.  The thrill was all mixed up with intense pain, and this time it wasn’t the legs.  My heart hurt.  I thought a little cool down walk might help.  I had three hours to kill before my bus would be leaving for Lethbridge, Alberta.  Hmm … bad choice of words.  I dragged myself through some downtown streets, and the pain worsened.  Oh my God, was this a heart attack?  Was this the end?

My steps became staggers and I fell onto a bench by the sidewalk.  I think I curled up into a ball.  “I’m dying.”  I waited for the closing to come.  No long replay of my life.  Just agony.

A gentleman who I later found out was a cab driver came over.  “Are you all right?”  >  “No.  Please call an ambulance.”  He helped me into his car and we sped off to St. Paul’s Hospital.  I stayed put for two weeks.  “Mr. Kerr, you have pericarditis, an inflammation of the walls of the heart.  You will recover.”  Judging by my current typing, I did.

I’ve dreamt of being an elite athlete, but it won’t be happening in this lifetime.  That’s okay.  There are other horizons to move towards.  I sense that mine will be in the realm of consciousness.  Slow and steady will get me there, certainly in a much longer time than 4:14.