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Sand Castles

Some children were playing beside a river.  They made castles of sand.  Each child defended their castle and said “This one is mine.”  They kept them separate and wouldn’t let any mistakes about whose was whose.  And when they were finished, sometimes they visited but sometimes they fought.  The owner of one castle got angry and pulled the other child’s hair.  “You spoiled my castle!”  They all kind of ganged up on one child and then he found other friends.  We know how human beings are.

But then evening came.  It was getting dark and they all thought it was time to go home.  Their mothers were calling them.  And no one cared what became of their castle.  One child stomped on his.  The waves washed over another.  And they turned away and they all went back home.

Paraphrase of an Early Buddhist text

***

They feel so solid, these opinions of mine.  They belong to me.  My identity is forged in the fire of what I know and what I want.  My muscles are tight, ready to reject any incursion into my territory.

I wrote this in the present tense, but that’s not true.  They speak of a younger Bruce.  I wonder where he went.  I could defend my castle with the best of them.  After all, I created it.  And isn’t that supremely important – what I create?  Somebody wrote a book called Create Your Own Reality.  I bought that idea for a long time.

Today my identity feels far more fluid, like the tide rolling over the sand castle.  It feels like something immense is carrying me.  I still make an impact on the world … or is it more accurate to say that an impact is made in my presence?

“I want this.  I want that.”  Where have those thoughts gone?  “This aspect of my life will stay the same until I die.”  That one’s disappeared too.  I wonder who’s in control.  And I smile when I realize that it’s not me.

I suppose this sounds passive to many of you, an abdication of my power to effect change.  But from inside this body, it doesn’t feel that way.  There’s a wave that washes over.  If there’s an I hanging around, it’s not solid at all.

Creating things – building monuments that speak of my impact on the world – doesn’t feel true anymore.  What makes me smile is knowing that it’s time for surfing.

Being Red

I’m pretty red right now but I could be redder
I’m pretty smart right now but I could be smarter
I’m pretty handsome right now but I could be handsomer
I’m pretty witty right now but I could be wittier
I’m pretty young right now but I could be younger
I’m pretty flexible right now but I could be flexibler
I’m pretty strong right now but I could be stronger
I’m pretty kind right now but I could be kinder
I’m pretty peaceful right now but I could be peacefuller
I’m pretty brave right now but I could be braver
I’m pretty sweet right now but I could be sweeter

***

I’m red
I’m smart
I’m handsome
I’m witty
I’m young
I’m strong
I’m kind
I’m flexible
I’m peaceful
I’m brave
I’m sweet

It’ll Be Amazing

There’s TSN, and then there’s me.

TSN is a Canadian sports network. They telecast the Super Bowl yesterday but I didn’t watch. I don’t care about American football. But over the years I’ve enjoyed many of the commercials.

TSN had a recap today about all things Super Bowl, including the five best commercials from the game. I leaned forward on the couch, ready to be amazed. Sadly, I was not. I was not touched by any of them. Most were funny and light, but they didn’t make me pause and stare. The 30-second spots were no doubt effective in selling the product but I don’t care about that. I yearn for the possibility that those seconds could impact my life.

Here is TSN’s view of the best:

1. Singer Michael Bublé knocks on several doors, delivering cans of Bubly drink to the homeowners. They just don’t understand that the name is “Bublé”.

2. Man to woman: “Did you steal my Cheetos again?” Woman to man: “It wasn’t me!” The woman proceeds to throw the package out the window while being accused. Later she points to the cat as being the guilty party.

3. “I’m Drake from State Farm.” The famous one wears a red shirt identical to the one worn by the male actor beside him. Eventually, the actor puts his hand on Drake’s shoulder and says “Stand-ins don’t have lines.”

4. Seems like they’re selling car batteries in this one. A fellow (probably a celebrity) drives his car onto a ship and straight into a large storage container. He and his car reappear on a dock in a cutesy seaside village. On the phone, he lets his friends know “I’m in Norway!” A woman strolling by corrects him, however. “Norway? You’re in Sweden.”

5. Mike Myers and Dana Carvey from the film “Wayne’s World” are on a couch with a beautiful woman. They start singing “eat local”. Everybody changes costumes and jumps around. An Uber Eats box shows up at the end.

Maybe I’m missing something here. The recipe seems to be putting famous people in a silly situation and therefore making millions. (Sigh)

***

And then there’s this …

A woman is on her back, treading water. Then there’s another woman, answering the phone:

Mrs. Long? We’ve found a baby girl for your adoption but there’s some things you need to know. She’s in Siberia, and she was born with a rare condition. Her legs will need to be amputated. I know this is difficult to hear. Her life – it won’t be easy … Mrs. Long?

It might not be easy but it’ll be amazing. I can’t wait to meet her.

This one makes me smile

***

Jessica Long, 13-time Paralympic Gold Medalist swimmer

Toyota

I Am Like Fire, And I Will Burn

I exploded today. And I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else. I was on an Evolutionary Collective Zoom call, doing the Mutual Awakening Practice with a woman. When it was my turn to talk, I felt this surge blasting up through me and out into the world. A cannon was launching me into the stratosphere, out into the starry blackness of space.

The power was intense. I knew I could leap across the Grand Canyon. I could love every being on our dear planet. I could fly.

My partner laughed a lot as I was bubbling away. She didn’t know that I didn’t know anything. There was no reasoned progression of life, no marginal improvement of circumstances. There was just … BAM! If my shirt had buttons, they would have burst.

Hours later, I still felt the residue of this brilliant light. I went in search of a poem that could capture some of the communion, the passing right through things, and the awe of what I experienced. Happily, I found Marisa Donnelly:

I am like fire. I am wild and emblazoned with color
every step, every sound billowing up around me
When I speak, the words leave my lips
already sizzling. When I stand, the ground shakes
beneath me, both fearful and proud of my feet

I am like fire. My hands spark energy. One touch
and the world around me comes alive
When my fingertips graze over skin
goosebumps appear. When I hold a hand in mine
I share silent stories. I create warmth
with a single kiss

I am like fire. Like light. Everything I embrace grows hot
grows bold, grows brighter. I bring passion
into places where there is none. I turn flickers
into flames. There is a fierceness in my fingers, love
in my lungs that I breathe out with tenacity, with purpose

I am like fire. Something you long to touch, to experience
but are in constant awe of the way I move and grow and become
Something you must only admire from a distance as I rise

I am like fire. I can destroy or save, ignite
or keep a body breathing when the temperature falls too low
I choose not to set the things I touch into chaos
I choose to heat, to calm

I am like fire. And I burn for the things I love
for the strength I feel in my chest, for the beauty I see so wild
and alive all around me. I will burn for places, for passion.
For memories that have been and will come
I will burn, bringing light into darkness
An energy that cannot, will not be extinguished

Last Minute Advice

Imagine, if you will, that you’re lying on your deathbed.  It’s been a good life, happily a long one.  It’s been full of fascinating characters, many of whom you’ve hugged in love.  You’ve been places – some that show up in travel films and some that perhaps you alone have seen.  You’ve been good to people, even those who have been mean to you.

As your eyes feel like closing, the bed is surrounded by children who are sad, mourning your leaving.  What would you say to them?  A few pieces of advice to carry them along.

If I were that person, I’d look in those kids’ eyes and say …

Go towards people, towards experiences.  Don’t back away.  Don’t let your fear turn you around.  Get close and see who’s there.  Feel their gifts as they find their way to you.

Welcome everything … the precious and the demeaning, the uplifting and downtrodding.  Every experience has brought you to today.  Every future moment will carry you amid all the tomorrows.  And you in turn will be welcomed into the full spectrum of living.

Love outrageously, because reason has no place in such an arena.  Love the flowing hair and also the warts.  Let nothing distract you from communion with the other.  And challenge the beloved to be the best possible version of themselves.

Throw out the books with all their borrowed wisdom.  There’s plenty inside you to see you through.  Trust the goodness there.

Know that you are unique.  Never before and never again has someone just like you come this way.  You have the power to touch the world in a way that it’s never seen before.

Express yourself … over and over again.  Be kind in your expressions but don’t omit them.  Ask life “May I have this dance?”

Look in the mirror a lot and see the folks gazing out from your eyes.

Finally, don’t try to remember all this.  Just live in gratitude for the time you are here.

 

Real

As I headed off to my dentist appointment this morning, the sun was shining and each tree was adorned with ice. It was glorious. By the time I pulled over to take a photo, the sun had gone in. But the scene still shone.

Minutes ago, I looked at this pic and felt deflated. It didn’t capture the glory of the world that was out my window.

Just now, I went to the internet and found this:

“That’s better” was my initial reaction. “I’ll use this photo. It’ll help me tell the story better.” I was launching into my new plan when everything just stopped. Something was calling a halt to the proceedings.

“You can’t do this, Bruce. It’s wrong. Not that it will damage anyone else … just you.”

Oh, that voice! It keeps speaking its mind. And from somewhere in my psychological past, I hear the words “cognitive dissonance”. My friend Google gives me the lowdown:

In the field of psychology, cognitive dissonance occurs when a person holds contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values, and is typically experienced as psychological stress when they participate in an action that goes against one or more of them

Okay. I have two things going on:

1. I want you to like my sparkling photo
2. I want to tell the truth

I’m clear that one of these values is larger, or “senior” to the other. So … you can gaze at the bright trees all you want. My Belmont, Ontario trees were just as bright, but not when I had my camera ready.

I vote for cognitive concordance.

Being Praised

The Buddha said that life includes both praise and blame.  We can try our darndest to avoid the blame part but that effort will be futile.  Perhaps we imagine a reality in which only praise comes our way, and we think that would be marvelous.  Looking closer though, I bet most of us don’t know what to do with people singing our virtues.

Today I was in a Zoom meeting with five other folks under the umbrella of the Evolutionary Collective.  Each person was to be the focus for fifteen minutes.  The rest of us simply gazed at the human being onscreen and asked ourselves what we “got” … what aspects of the person were speaking to us.  In the most profound, who is this person anyway?  We didn’t know biographical details.  Except for one of them, I didn’t even know where they lived.  All we did was look and respond aloud to “What am I experiencing?” as we looked into their eyes.

When it was my turn, the other folks showered me with praise with words that touched far deeper than my personality or good deeds.  I choose not to tell you what they said.  I don’t see the purpose in doing that.  It’s not important that you agree with their assessments.  It’s not valuable to hear various adjectives being laid on my shoulders.

So what’s a guy to do in response?

1.  Aw, shucks
2.  No, no … that’s not me
3.  (A big and nervous smile)
or
4.  Thank you

I’ve always liked the number 4.  “Just receive it, Bruce.  Let it in.  Let it inform you about what’s next in your life.  Let the goodness spoken find further expression.”

I remain unbloated
I know that I’m here to serve
I will continue to do so

What’s Alive?

Last Monday I had minor surgery on my right hand.  For the first few days, the pain meant that no WordPress posts were forthcoming.  Since then, my dear hand has been feeling better and better, and here I am tapping away on my laptop.

My digital journey has been fascinating, from the strange sensation of cords being cut under local anaesthetic, to the freezing coming out, to trying to shave.  But sitting here right now, the story isn’t alive.  It isn’t juicy in my soul.  It feels like old news.  Oh, I could scribe about the last week with some level of proficiency but the writing wouldn’t bounce along, since I’m not living it now.  Sometimes on WordPress I’ve told you about events that happened before but they were also bubbling up in me as I sat down with my computer.  Not so for my recent hand adventures.

My last post was called “Hair Loss”.  It was accompanied by a shaggy photo of me, courtesy of Covid closing my hair salon.  I ended the piece looking forward to Amazon delivering a hair trimming kit.  There would have been much to tell here as well.  Trying (for a long time!) to remove the blade from the trimmer in anticipation of future cleaning, the same lengthy process of reattaching the blade, watching several YouTube videos about men cutting their own long hair, the first attempt at cutting, and today’s tweaking.  All of that was there … and I just don’t want to write about it.  The story isn’t singing to me.

What is alive to wanting to write again after an absence of nine days.  Right now, I’m being pulled forward to having my thoughts show up on screens.  I want my words to reach people, and to touch at least a few of them.  I want contact.

Will tomorrow offer me a topic that I can throw myself into?  I think so, without at the moment having an idea of what that topic will be.  The past has shown me that when my heart is revving, my fingers will find the keys.

Oh … and here’s a photo of the new me.

Hair Loss

I have lots of hair. My challenge is not about growing it, but getting rid of it.

I look in the mirror and see this mass of grey on my head. “That’s big hair!” And I’m fine with that. My TV screen suggests some chemical that will reduce the size of my forehead by filling in the upper reaches with new roots. Also available is shiny black or perhaps a rich dark brown. Not for me.

I’ve always had copious hair. I just spent twenty minutes searching for an old photo of me but I can’t find it. (Sigh) When I was 25, my hair was curling up on my shoulders. Bruce then, Bruce now.

That’s what I should do … take a right now photo. See you in a bit.

Yeah, that’s me.

In mid-December, I saw my hair starting to grow every which way. But that was okay. I had an appointment with my stylist for December 30. On December 26, the Province of Ontario locked down. My haircutting options were reduced to the grocery store and the pharmacy. Undeterred, I phoned the hair salon and made an appointment for February 3. “I can last that long.” Sadly, Ontario has extended the lockdown to at least February 11. So … I’m now figuring on sometime in 2022.

This morning I decided against a repeat of 1974. Amazon, the purveyor of all things wise and wonderful, would surely come to my rescue. And they did. I ordered a hair trimmer kit that had lots of 5-star reviews. It’s due to show up on Saturday.

I can read a manual. I can maneuver a trimmer through my golden locks. And I can’t wait to see what I’ll look like. Maybe I’ll start a new trend!

An after-photo will be coming your way.

After You Die

Imagine the day of your death. May it be a long way into the future. Imagine the sadness of your loved ones. You touched them. You’re probably not famous so the mourners won’t number in the millions, or even the thousands. But every single one will feel a long exhale in memory of you. They’ll take to Facebook or Twitter. They’ll speak to your family at the funeral. And here’s what they’ll say about your uniqueness:

There was no one else like you

You understood human triumph and frailty equally well

You shall be missed

Thanks for all the laughs

You had an insatiable curiosity about people, and a real sense of humor

Your legacy will live on

It was an honor to watch you do your thing

You really, really did listen

It was your generosity of spirit that drew the world to you

You made everybody feel comfortable

I’ve never known anybody who made a bigger deal out of the slightest kindness

You were always interesting, gracious and fun

You had a great sense of humor and a genuine interest in people

I’m going to miss all of our great conversations

You were a friend through thick and thin

It was always a treat to sit at your table

You loved what you did and all of us loved you

Thank you for listening

You always made me feel as though I were the only person in the room

***

Well done
You’re living a good life