I read today about Jeanne Daman, a young teacher at a Jewish school in Brussels during World War II.  The Nazis had declared that Jewish kids could no longer go to school with other children.

Then the Nazis started “disappearing” Jewish adults, sending them to their deaths.  Jeanne realized that the school was a huge target for those who wanted to get rid of “impure” people.  So she found Belgium families willing to hide a Jewish child.

By the end of the war, Jeanne and her colleagues had protected the lives of about 2000 children – young ones who grew up to be old ones, with their own children and grandchildren.

I’m in awe of Jeanne.  And yet comparing myself to her yields no fruit.

How do I measure the contributions I make to other people during my lifetime?

Look at the colours.  I’m going to call the yellow one “neutral”.  The lifetime effect on the world is a net zero … neither positive nor negative.

Light green means a moderate positive effect.  Dark green an immense positive effect.  Orange is a moderate negative effect – more harming than nurturing.  And then there’s red.  No explanation needed.

***

I don’t have to be Jeanne

I’ll smile from within my light green

I hope you live there too

I like my mind.  I’m glad it’s attached to the rest of me.  And I need to treat it as the precious gem it is.  As Mahatma Gandhi said …

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet

I need to watch other people, and I need to watch me.

My mind doesn’t stay put.  Sometimes it roams all over my head and sometimes it’s a pinpoint: focused, decisive, clear as glass.

I have both … regularly.

You’ll be happy to know that on Saturday, July 25 I’m meeting Christine at 3:00.  So says my Samsung calendar.  The trouble is … I don’t know who Christine is.  For a day now I’ve been grunting with the effort to remember her.

No luck.  The only Christine I know is a dear friend who lives in the U.K.  And I’m pretty sure I haven’t bought a Eurostar ticket that would take me through the tunnel under the English Channel.

So the mystery hangs in the air.

***

As for the other end of things, I’ve decided:  I will not go on trips that expose me to high heat and humidity. 

And so I’m writing this from Gent, not from the Dour Festival.  I cancelled my reservation for dancing and camping.  The festival runs from July 15 till the 19th.  The weather forecast has changed for Friday to Sunday: the temperatures will drop.  Still, my mind said “No” a few days ago, and I agreed.

Part Two of heat and humidity is my planned trip with friends to Senegal in October.  I just said “No” to that too.  I cancelled my flight.

I will dearly miss seeing people I love in the town of Toubacouta but the laser beam of my current mind sees the issue clearly.

October in Senegal is still in the rainy season.  Historical weather data and Bruce data show this:

77-years-old

Average high temperature 35°C (95°F)

Average humidity 75%

…

The AI verdict?

“Extremely dangerous”

So Gent will also be my domicile in October.  It points to what has become a favourite mantra of mine …

I don’t want to

***

Like yesterday, my head is held high.  It feels strange to say but “Me first” has a place in my life.

Yesterday Spain defeated France 2-0 in the semi-final of the World Cup.  Kylian Mbappé, the captain of Les Bleus, was devastated.  He had given all the physical and emotional that he had.

After the game, he had this to say:

Now, it is something we have to face with our heads held high.  I believe that when you win, you win with your head held high; so when you lose, you have to lose with your head held high, too.

The crush of defeat surrounded Kylian, and still he had the grace to utter these words.

So Kylian teaches me.

When all is going wrong, where is my chin?  Pointed to the floor?  Or facing straight ahead?

And what of the rest of my body?

My arms.  Crossed?  Hands on the hips?  Or simply hanging loose by my sides?

My mouth.  Forced down, becoming stone?  Or loose and curling up at the corners?  Perhaps softly at rest.

My legs.  Kicking out at life?  Rigid in the knees?  Or bending just a bit as they flow over the Earth?

My toes.  Scrunched tight into the floor?  Or enjoying the wee space between each one?

And … the mind.  Crammed with pokey thoughts of ill will?  Or on the river of life: feeling the momentum, and the support of the water?

***

I sense that even in the darkest times

Kylian Mbappé’s body knows what to do

If you’re wondering about the crowning moment of my athletic career, the first thing I’ll say is there really hasn’t been such a career.

But still, I’ve had highlights on the playing field.  One especially.

It was the summer of ’86 and we staff members of Fiddlers restaurant in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada were having a picnic.  After too much food and drink, we decided to have a softball game.  I don’t know what Europeans know about North American sports, so here’s some info:

Softball is like baseball, except played with a bigger and softer ball.  In baseball, you stand at home plate, hit the ball and hopefully run to first base (to the right), then second, then third, then back home … the route looks like a diamond.

My turn up to bat.  With a semi-mighty swing, I launched the ball to the outfield (that is, far from home plate).

I didn’t think – I just did.  I ran to third base!  To the left.  Then I roared past second … and slid into first.  Safe!

I looked up at my teammates and my opponents.  Mouths were agape, heads were shaking, voices were raised.  Apparently I was an idiot.

***

I’m enjoying the World Cup of football on TV.  For the uninitiated, in football (or soccer) you’re not allowed to use your hands, or even let the ball touch your arms.

In the spirit of zooming to third base, I’m fantasizing about a player grabbing the ball and running full tilt down the field.  Then throwing the ball past the goaltender into the upper right corner of the net.  Goal!

No doubt the same open mouths

***

And so I dream

I’ve written “Bruce’s Blog” for twelve years.   I believe that I’ve never asked someone “What should I write about today?” and then compose words about their answer … no matter the topic.

Today I did exactly that. 

I’d been sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery with a big space in my head.  “Topic-less” you might say.  So I asked Hiba, one of the servers.  She agreed to tell me what to write about.  “Come back in fifteen minutes and I’ll compose around whatever you say.”

Hiba returned …

Is it better to pour your heart out or keep it all in?

Woh!  That’s brilliant.  I was hoping she wouldn’t say “Write about the floor.”

***

I say let your heart flow.  Speak the truth, with the intention to give, not to smash.  The words “I love you” (all three of them together) seem to have disappeared from the lives of most people.

And if you see some shining beauty as you walk in the world, such as the dew on a spider’s web at sunrise, share it with your companion.  “Do you see that?  Wow!”

If you don’t let your heart roam over the planet, if you compact everything inside …

You will sooner or later get sick

(So I contend)

Don’t pour your opinions out.  They so easily slip from the mouth.  “Why do you always dress in dull brown?  That’s so boring.”  Keep it to yourself.  And who knows, maybe another’s fashion choices will grow on you.

When you’re with someone you trust, be emotionally naked.  No walls.  No hidden bits.  The truth, spoken with love, heals.

It’s a joy to be “flat” with a beloved one.  That is … there’s nothing of importance left unsaid between the two of you.  Issueless.

***

I hope you read this, Hiba

Thank you for inspiring me

I woke up this morning feeling like a normal human being.  But then …

A word appeared in my mind, and wouldn’t go away.  It’s still here.

Everybody

During my day, I hear many words.  Some of them land more deeply than others.  But this one!  It’s burrowed down from the skin to my heart.

No analysis.  No “Yes buts”.  Just the word hanging before my eyes … shining.

This morning I watched the second half of the Wimbledon Women’s Final match – Karolina Muchova vs. Linda Noskova.  Centre Court was full with about 15,000 tennis fans.  I looked at them as the word continued to roam around in my head.

Young/old, dress shirts and dresses/t-shirts and shorts, enthusiastic/reserved, hats/none, sunglasses/ none …

All of us

***

Now I’m sipping away in a half-full Lloyd Coffee Eatery.  Same deal …

All of us

(I smile)

I was dreaming last night.  It was still vivid as I woke up.  I had bought a new cell phone … and it was square.  I didn’t know that such things existed.

I wanted to access the internet: see who was saying what in the world, read my messages, write this blog.  I tapped and tapped, but all that came up were images, colours, patterns.  Where were the words?

I didn’t give up.  I spent hours trying to access the comings and goings on planet Earth.  Nothing but sadness at the end.  I couldn’t connect.

I was floating inside a mist, not being able to tell up from down, inside from outside.  Untethered … to human beings, to life.

(Sigh)

The word “chasm” comes to mind.  How do I get to the other side?

Can I really jump that far to reach what I want?  Sometimes it feels hopeless.  Ahh … but perhaps tonight my dream will include wings.

I’ve been taking flying lessons

I’m in a situation which is immersing me in what truth and power mean.

I see the truth as “What’s so”.  The sky looks blue, except when there are clouds.  The truth comes out smoothly, easily, quietly.

The power that human beings usually understand is brute force – yelling, hitting, calling names, casting aside.  Such as the spears in this painting.

The Buddha meets the spears with flowers … a soft power.  One that flows with a tiny and unstoppable momentum.  I think of Tai Chi, where you absorb the force of the aggressor, and use it against them to bring them down.

Another description of true power comes from the epic poem The Desiderata:

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons

Speak your truth quietly and clearly

Avoid loud and aggressive persons.  They are vexatious to the spirit

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune

Keep peace in your soul

***

Thank you, Max Ehrmann (Desiderata)

Chen Wangting (Tai Chi)

and The Buddha

I love singing

I don’t want to sing right now

Both are true.  The oomph is not there to sing sweet songs with human lyrics and soaring melodies.  And I’m fine with that.  At peace.  The opening of the mouth will return.

Still, I love watching live concert videos on YouTube.  When Disturbed hits those incredibly low notes in The Sound of Silence … wow!

And here’s Bob Dylan, the American singer-songwriter who has entertained us since the 60’s.  He knows a thing or two about beauty and truth.

Songs, to me, were more important than just light entertainment.  They were my preceptor and guide into some altered consciousness of reality.  Some different republic, some liberated republic.

“Access” is a fine word.  What allows us to travel from one state of being to another?  Is there a road map?  A winding path?  No path?

Music brings me along, inside the melody and harmony, inside the words …

The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’

Fine songs point me to the moon … so bright, often overwhelmingly so.

***

I choose to be pointed

Sometimes in the singing

Sometimes in the listening

I just looked at my hand and asked …

Where do fingernails start?

Certainly an odd thing to say, but words such as odd, weird and silly are among my favourites.

I wonder if there are more questions in me at the moment.  Here I am, hoping they bubble up in my throat, force my mouth open, and fly into the air.

But maybe not.  Perhaps we’re only allowed one strange question a day … and I’ve reached my quota.

Let’s see:

***

When is the best time?

What’s really going on inside my body?

Why do men have nipples?

How does electricity work?

Why didn’t ancient humans have fences?

How come flamingos’ legs bend the other way?

Does the universe end?  If so, what’s beyond it?

Why does chocolate taste so great but sea cucumber leads me to vomit?

Does happiness increase when we use a lot of oxygen?

Where do we go when we die?

Why do tears drip out of our eyes when we’re sad?

Where is home?

Who is family?

Why does dew on a spider web at sunrise gladden our hearts?

Why do I get to be 77 and some people die at 25?

Where are we?  Are we really on a big sphere revolving around a giant fireball?

How many languages are there?  (7000 +)

Am I better than you?  Worse than you?  Or is the question ridiculous?

…

Am I out of questions?

(For the moment … yes)

Mañana