Monthly Archives: April 2020

Show Yourself

Some people on the Disney Plus discussion page are saying they’ve seen Frozen 2 one hundred times.  Gosh, I’d sure be tired of anything by then.  It’s tempting to say no to something so outrageously popular … without really looking inside.  So I looked.

Elsa sings a stunning song called Show Yourself.  My mouth dropped open as hers soared, so I had to watch it again … and again.  Happily it was three times not a hundred.

Elsa is searching:

Show yourself
I’m dying to meet you
Show yourself
It’s your turn
Are you the one I’ve been looking for
All of my life?
Show yourself
I’m ready to learn

Ah yes, the search for that special someone – a human being who will join with me and make my life complete.  It could be a lover, or one’s child, or a famous person I’m enthralled with.  It could be a community of like-souled people, in whose company I feel at home.

Show yourself
I’m no longer trembling
Here I am
I’ve come so far
You are the answer I’ve waited for
All of my life
Oh, show yourself
Let me see who you are

You are the answer to my question, the solution to my problem, the happiness that has so often eluded me.  I’ve been searching so long for you.

Come to me now
Open your door
Don’t make me wait
One moment more

It has to be now.  No more delayed gratification, which might only bear fruit when I’m 75.  I need love now.  I need to be held.  I need to hold.

***

And then there is the “Ah hah!”  The realization that I’ve been looking in the wrong direction.  My savior has been abiding within … all this time.  Would someone please give me a mirror?

Show yourself
Step into your power
Grow yourself
Into something new
You are the one you’ve been waiting for
All of your life
Oh, show yourself

Shall I?
Shall you?
What shall we show the world?

Injury

At times I have a rigid view of who Bruce is.  It’s healthy for me to have that jolted once in awhile.

I can’t go to the gym anymore so a few weeks ago my thought was to walk.  I live on the edge of a village and there are plenty of roads for my inspection.  I tell people I see that I’m going for a walk “around the block”, chuckling inside that the navigation I’m talking about is nine kilometres (six miles).

So … Bruce is now a walker, a long walker – two-and-a-half hours.  And Bruce does this every day because he wants to retain some fitness and simply be out in the open air, greeting folks from six feet away.  Bruce does not take a break from his routine.

Most recently, twelve days in a row I ventured forth and ventured back.  Slow and steady.  Halfway through the twelth time, however, my left knee started complaining:  “What are you doing, old man?  It’s not like you’re 25 anymore.  I’m getting tired of all this, and it’s time to let you know!”

So I hobbled through the last hour.  I was out in the country.  A few cars came by.  I realized that no one was going to drive me home.  There wouldn’t be enough physical distancing.  So I grunted and hobbled.

That was Sunday.  Yesterday the knee was puffed up and it was hard to move around the house.  It’s some better today.  Both times I haven’t set a foot outside the door.  I can feel the twinge of “should”, focused on outdoor travel.  But if I let that word into my consciousness, it needs to be about “rest”.  And so I do.

Will I “trip the light fantastic” tomorrow?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  Right now, there’s a blessed looseness about me, certainly not in the physical realm, but in the spiritual.  Who I am is a pathway, not a destination.  And there are many twists and turns along the way – for my body and for my mind.

Days, Weeks, Months, Years

I remember March 12, and the school secretary telling me that her family had to make a decision about going south to Florida for the March Break.  I suggested that they go, especially because all the kids were looking forward to the sun and sand, but I also mentioned that they should stay away from Disney World.  Seems like ancient advice now.  I was thinking “It’s only nine days.  Not a problem.”

Over time, any thought of “days” has become irrelevant in this time of coronavirus.  The discussion soon blended into “weeks”.  The Ontario Premier announced that after March Break, the kids would be away from school for a further two weeks.  “That’s okay.  I’ll have lots of time for meditating, and reading books, and watching cool movies.  Plus I’ll see the kids again on April 6” … which happens to be today.  School now won’t return until at least May 4.  “Hey, that’s only four more weeks.  We’ll keep our physical distancing going for that time, and then I’ll be able to go out to Boston Pizza for a beer again.”

Or not.

There’s a newer word that’s crept into the conversations of politicians and health officials – “months”.  Perhaps the school year is over.  I volunteer in a Grade 5/6 class in a school where the 6’s graduate.  So maybe I’ll never see them as a group again.  Perhaps there won’t be any US Open tennis tournament for me to go to at the beginning of September.  I’ve been so looking forward to being in New York City and watching the best players in the world hit the ball back and forth!

A few days ago, Doug Ford, the Ontario Premier, gave us dire projections of coronavirus death in our province.  Hidden amid the 3,000 to 15,000 figures (if we maintain physical distancing and good hand-washing) was a smaller number – “2”.  Ontario health officials  think that the pandemic could be with us for another 18 months to 2 years.  Oh my.

So it could be that not only I won’t see the Grade 6 kids again, but also the Grade 5’s.  Oh … immense sadness at the prospect.

Will it be two years before I can go to a party again?
Before I can have breakie with other local folks at the Belmont Diner?
Before I can hug my friends?

The future draws us forward with its unseen arms

Skye and Dad

Sometimes CNN pulls my heart out and leaves it lying on the floor.

Conrad Buchanan was a 39-year-old DJ in Florida.  He died from the coronavirus last week.  On March 14, he woke up unwell.  Soon his wife Nicole tried to get him tested but her request was turned down. Conrad was too young and didn’t have any underlying medical conditions.

Days later Conrad was having trouble breathing.  “The 22nd was when I brought him to the hospital.  I never saw him again.”  Staff intubated him (inserted a breathing tube into his airway so a ventilator could push air into his lungs).  Since the hospital was on lockdown, Nicole wasn’t allowed to enter the building.  “I never got to say ‘I love you.'”

Skye is Nicole and Conrad’s daughter.  She loves ballet.  She loves her dad.  “He would do dances with me.”  Conrad even showed up for a “daddy-daughter thing” at the ballet school.  “It was funny because he could perform in front of like millions of people when he DJ’d, but when he danced … it wasn’t the best.”

“We just overall shared everything.  He brought me to school.  He brought me to ballet.  He was my everything.”

Interviewer:  “Skye, give us one last thought on how you want us all to think of your father.”

“I thought he was pretty cool.  I think even if people don’t know him, he brightened up everyone’s day.  Just think of him dearly, you know.  Find your rhythm in life.  Listen to the beat.  Dance and express yourself in order to connect with people from all walks of life.”

Thank you, Skye.

 

 

 

Meditating

I often ask myself how I can contribute to people during this time of coronavirus.  The physical basics are clear: Keep myself well so I don’t infect anyone.  Wash my hands a lot … for twenty seconds.  Stay at least six feet away from other human beings.

In the emotional and spiritual arena, I’ve been on the phone with local friends and on Zoom with friends from far away.  On my daily walks, I really say hi to those who come my way.

All of this is good.

This morning I decided to meditate for a long time.  I sensed that this was another way to impact the world.  You may be asking “How can sitting in a chair for an hour and emptying your mind do any good in this crisis?”  And I don’t have a rational answer for you.  As I reflect on this right now, with my laptop on my lap, I simply know, at some mysterious level, that my time in meditation makes a difference.

Just so you know, there’s no emptying the mind of thoughts.  Trying to get rid of them doesn’t work.  By grace, over time, the thoughts lessen in intensity, duration and frequency.  And so it was this morning.  The space within was clear and quiet.  The bouncing ball at one point just stopped bouncing.  Later on, a few bounces returned, but they faded away again.

I didn’t feel like I was sending love to all of us swimming through the pandemic.  For a long time the word “give” was with me as I sat in the chair, but it was like I was in the middle of giving and being given to, rather than an active doer.  Then even “give” disappeared.  The awareness of love disappeared.  All was quiet.  There was radiation outward for awhile … then that too went “Poof!”

I sat for nearly two hours.  Near the beginning, thoughts of setting a new time record came, and thankfully went.  For the rest of the time, there was no feeling of achievement, no feeling of Bruce.  But something was cooking.   Once again, I know this is true.

Am I deluded?  No
Am I strange?  Yes
Am I contributing?  For sure