Monthly Archives: July 2021

Shampoo

It’s a simple thing … I need to have clean hair. Otherwise my scalp is burning up and I look like hell.

I’ve used Herbal Essences shampoo for years. The choice of brand has become automatic for me in the grocery store. I venture down that aisle every six weeks of so, in search of a new colour. My recent choices have been blue, green and a purply red.

Up until a few days ago, I was saying hi to “Hello Hydration” every morning. Thick, bluey goop that my hair has enjoyed. But the dregs appeared, and then there was none. Happily I’d planned ahead and “Color Me Happy” was residing in my bathroom cupboard.

A dollop on the palm, the palm raised to the head, and my locks were squishy with novel goodness. The red was bright and the scent was fruity. My eyes opened wide. New! Brand spanking new! My nostrils palpitated with the excitement of it all.

Today is three days later. The scent filling my exterior head is still fresh, but I’m tempted to add the word “muted”. The thrill is gone. The “O my God!” moment is no more.

You might be curious about why I’ve waxed poetic about shampoo. Do I have stock in Herbal Essences? Do I believe the social media axiom “Just say anything about your day – boring or not”? No to both.

There must be some method to my madness …

Perhaps:

How come we don’t see our loved ones freshly every day?
How come we say “Oh yeah, I know what (Joe, Mary, Sayid …) is like”?
How come we’re asleep?

Lost in TV?

Well, there’s my history … and then there’s my future.  I imagine grand unknowns up ahead.  Should they be entirely fresh or should I welcome glimpses of the past?

My dear wife Jody and I loved the TV series “Lost” – the story of plane crash survivors finding their way on an uncharted island.  We cuddled on the couch for six years (2004 – 2010), living and dying with the trials of Kate, Jack, Sawyer, Hurley, Sayid and Locke.

In recent times, long after Jody died, I’ve occasionally thought of my island friends with a wee smile.  And then it was on to the events of the day.

Two days ago, I was enjoying “Elena of Avalor” on Disney Plus.  What an amazing, good-hearted teenager Elena is!  I decided to snort around the Disney menu to see what they’d added recently. After a pleasant meandering, I clicked one more time … and there it was – all six seasons of “Lost”!

In the spirit of yielding to temptation, last night I entered the world of Season 1, Episode 1.  Oh my God!  “Hello, dear ones.”

Memories flooded, and there were moments when I knew what a character would say next.  I was cozy on the couch again.

So, Bruce, now what?  As of this moment, I’ve devoured the first three episodes.   The hooking is happening.  Trouble is, there are 117 more chapters beckoning to me.  Will the mature, forward-thinking youngish man prevail, on his way to new TV-less adventures?  Or will I succumb to the revisiting of a darned good story?

Stay tuned.

Lightening Up

Ajahn Chah, a Buddhist teacher, was walking one day near the monastery with some monks.  There was this great big stone.  He said:

“See that boulder there.  Is it heavy?”

 And the monks said “Yes!”

And he said “Not if you don’t pick it up.”

***

A stone is one thing … a word is another.  Here are some words that, when put together, are very heavy indeed:

1. I can’t remember names
2. It’s going to be another one of those days
3. It’s just no use
4. I just know it won’t work
5. Nothing ever goes right for me
6. That’s just my luck
7. I’m so clumsy
8. I don’t have the talent
9. I’m just not creative
10. Everything I eat goes right to my waist
11. I can’t seem to get organized
12. Today just isn’t my day
13. I can never afford the things I want
14. I already know I won’t like it
15. No matter what I do I can’t seem to lose weight
16. I never have enough time
17. I just don’t have the patience for that
18. That really makes me mad
19. Another blue Monday
20. When will I ever learn?

***

Don’t you get tired when you read this stuff?

There’s another way … leave the stupid rock on the ground!

 

Perpendicular

The core members of the Evolutionary Collective had a seminar today.  One of the practices we did involved one person speaking (B), one person in front (A), and two people to the sides (C and D).

When I was talking, I could feel the geometry of it all.  I was being held.  And there was a sense of precision: I experienced the angle as exactly 90°.  There was something about the up-and-down-ness and the left-and-right-ness that felt like home.

Usually I prefer the curves of nature to the straight lines of mankind:

But there’s also a beauty in the vertical.  It reminds me of uprightness, of perfect integrity, clear in the giving to others.  This integrity doesn’t wobble to the left or right.  It doesn’t choose “right action” when it’s convenient or beneficial.  It acts True North … again and again.

Also consider the horizontal.  “Equal in the eyes of God”, and may it be as true in the eyes of women and men.  All to be honoured, all to be loved.

So let us together praise the quiet geometry of life, and embrace the lines that join us.

Listening to the Breezes Beyond Time

I’ve done nothing.  I’ve simply written down what I heard from the Gods

Giacomo Puccini (classical music composer)

Sometimes I structure things, I lay out plans, I have a clear view of the road ahead.  That’s okay.  There’s a certain meek satisfaction there.  But it often feels dull.  Yes, I have to put the work in to accomplish things, and indeed they do get done, but there’s another realm … of juice.

Mr. Puccini wrote twelve operas.  He needed a broad musical knowledge to accomplish that, but there was a beyond.  He listened.  Unknown guides were whispering in his ear, and he allowed himself to fall forward into the mist, to trust that a vaster mind was placing gifts in his hands.  Please, let me be so orchestrated.

I’ve learned not to censor the words that tumble from my mouth.  Oh, I still hear the ancient tones of “Be Careful” but they don’t hold sway.  I respect such acquaintances but I don’t wrap my arms around them.  It’s more like nodding as I acknowledge their presence.

Today was a hug.  As I was doing the Mutual Awakening Practice with a partner, the world was flowing free.  I was being carried by a lilt in the voice, a spring in the step.  And then the revelation landed from the nether regions:

I have happy fingers!

Yes, it was true.  “They get to hang out together, and bobble and wobble together.  The fingies touch and then bounce away.  And you know what’s the best?  They’re all part of this … hand!  They’re part of a whole, one that can wave, and hold things, and rest on my lap.  My happy fingers never get lost out there in the sky.  They have a home – always connected, always a part of something big.”

Perhaps Giacomo Puccini is proud of me today.  I wasn’t measured or effective.  I was dancing to the whims and whispers from other lands.

Parent and Child

They were staring at me through the basement window, steady in the eyes and sorrowful in the soul.  Their gaze never left mine through the pane of glass.  There was a silent request washed with resignation.

Why had these lives soured in the depths?  Why weren’t my new friends scampering across the lawn?  Would they have more tales to tell their loved ones, or was this the end? 

I looked back, from the inside to the outside.  Small kindred spirits stood motionless as they made my acquaintance.  Was there something to do or should I turn away and proceed with my human endeavours?

I felt drawn to the world without walls.  My apparatus sat still in the garage and I motioned it to my hand.  Soon I was on the green grass at that very window.  There was a squeezing and a lifting … and we were all free.

Lonely in the World

The singer is Nanci Griffith.  The song is “When I Dream”.  The sadness permeates all.  There is lonely with money and lonely without money.  This is with.  It looks good – being able to head to Paris on a whim, eat at the best restaurants, host elegant parties, be liked a thousand times on Facebook.  But it’s not good.  It’s empty … of life.

Nanci is not just dreaming of a soulmate, a romantic partner.  She longs for true human contact – with people young and old, male and female.  She longs for kindred spirits.  There is a connection possible between human beings that is profound.  There is no gap between.  It isn’t two folks trying to understand and empathize.  It’s two folks inside the same immense reality that easily escapes our best words.  Together in that, and each person still deeply him or herself.   More of me.  More of us.

Too often we narrow our view to see intimacy solely as the realm of sexual partners.  There is a world of contact beyond the lovers.  Such interlacing is available for anyone willing to come close to the other.  It is our birthright.

The words of Crystal Gayle lie below the singer.  They point to despair tinged with a touch of hope.  There is another destination.

I could have a mansion that is higher than the trees
I could have all the gifts I want and never ask please
I could fly to Paris, oh, it’s at my beck and call
Why do I go through life with nothing at all?

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

I can be the singer or the clown in every room
I can even call someone to take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on and drive the men insane
I can go to bed alone and never know his name

But when I dream, I dream of you
Maybe someday you will come true

Not in Control

I’m often a Zoom host on calls of 10 to 40 people.  I started learning how to do this in October, 2019 and it’s been a rocky road since.  I’ve made lots of mistakes, ones that diminished the experience of many folks.  And I’ve forgiven myself for that.  It’s always my intention to be excellent but sometimes my brain has trouble keeping up with my heart.

Twenty-one months later, I’m a good Zoom host – not brilliant like a few Zoomies I know, but I take care of the participants well.  Then there was today.  I was a host three times … and adventures abounded.  For instance:

1.  There’s a chat feature in Zoom.  My job in the early morning was to post a message that the organization wanted to be passed on.  I copied and pasted and … Voilà (!) the window started filling with fast-moving “j”s!  Within two seconds, the space was full.  I scrolled down, trying to get to the end of the letters – still full – so I scrolled some more.  Finally a blank space at the end of the zooming “j”s.  I slammed my finger down on the space bar and the flood stopped.  I held the backspace key down and watched in horrified fascination as page after page of “j”s were sucked back into cyberspace.  “What’s going on?!”

2.  My job includes dividing participants into pairs for the breakout rooms.  There’s a “Create Rooms” window that appears.  Piece of cake occasionally, lots of focus required usually.  I clicked a little up arrow to increase the number of rooms to accommodate the 20 people who were on one call today.  Suddenly 100 breakout rooms appeared and I couldn’t think fast enough to get that number down to 10.  So there were 20 folks, each alone in a room, surrounded by empty rooms.  I gathered my wits (slowly) and manually paired up the participants.  The body was shaking.

3.  On another call, I set the length of the breakout sessions to the standard 30 minutes.  I thought I was finished with that part when I glanced down and saw that the time had magically morphed into 300 minutes.  I fixed that.  Then I got busy with other tasks.  Just before I was to open the rooms, a little birdie told me to check the settings again.  The big uncover?  The sessions were set to close in 3 minutes.  (Sigh)

Somehow (thank you, whoever you are) I got through all this.  The participants were well served, and blissfully unaware of my trials.

I ended the afternoon chatting online with a Zoom support person.  After much exploration together, he thought my program was corrupted.  “Uninstall and reinstall”.  So I did.

And tomorrow is another day.

Expressing

Well … it’s been awhile.  I’d guess six weeks.  It felt like it was over – all this writing.  There was a sense of moving on, away from a blog and towards teaching the Mutual Awakening Practice Course with the Evolutionary Collective.  I’m in a year long teacher training with the EC and it’s intense.  “No time for WordPress!” I solemnly declared.

But here I am.  Will this be a cameo appearance or a full-length novel?  (Hmm … that feels like a mixed metaphor.  Oh well.)

Part of the reason I stopped was that I seemed to have run out of things to say.  1374 posts.  Isn’t that enough?  Apparently not, since my fingers are on the move again.  I feel porous, and surely with all that space within and around me, there’s room for the new to show up.  How about something profoundly new, that I’ve never thought of?  Or maybe nobody’s ever thought of.  (Another hmm.  Do I hear delusions of grandeur on the horizon?)

The pot is being stirred, and it doesn’t feel that I’m the cook.  Hopefully something delicious will show up for supper.

See you tomorrow.