Category Archives: Uncategorized

Hands

Today I took the ferry to Toronto Island for a brunch and concert at St. Andrew-by-the-Lake Church. The pews were facing each other as we started in on our frittata and greens. The woman beside me was probably in her 80s and had the most beautiful white hair. I told her so. Then I looked down at her left hand.

The skin was pale, the wrist tiny. The veins were scarcely visible. I was reminded of the word “alabaster” without really knowing what that means. Her forearm had me recalling fine china. It was a work of art. There was no thought about how wonderfully functional hands are, just the beauty of the shape. I turned quiet.

I sat in the front row to hear thirteen woodwind and brass musicians. I was only three feet from a young clarinetist. I asked her if I was too close. She smiled and said “No”. My new friend often had solos. During her fast runs, I gazed at her fingers flying over the keys. When she played a trill, one finger bounced up and down. I watched her digits spread and then come together. I watched the long bones of her hand appear and disappear. I stared.

Towards the back of the ensemble stood a woman playing the double bass (a really big violin, sort of). Her fingers held the bow so gracefully, and her hand twisted subtly as the bow caressed different strings. The fingers of her left hand almost smashed down on the strings to create the notes, and then would rotate as her vibrato gave us a rich, wavering sound.

Hands in motion, hands at rest. Thank you, God, for creating such wonders.

And now there are mine, tapping away on the phone to make meaning with you. Think I’ll set this device down for a minute and take a look.

Hmm. I know these hands. They’ve been with me for quite a while. I know the veins. I know the scar on my right wrist and smile at its origin. I see where Jody’s wedding ring used to be. Four years ago there was an empty groove in my skin … all gone now. And I do love the long bones.

***

Quite the art gallery – my hands, yours, everyone’s. I think they deserve applause.

The Old and the New

The Toronto subway is such a teacher. I was heading to a concert at the Royal Conservatory of Music tonight when people appeared before me. Foremost were three young adults – two women and a man. One woman especially was immaculately dressed. Her rich green sweater was adorned with a gold pendant. She took selfie after selfie of her and her friends. The smiles looked plastic to me. The other lady was majorly preoccupied with her hair. She brushed back this and twizzled that. Our modern life doesn’t require mirrors. A smartphone will get the job done nicely.

There was nothing wrong with the preening. Still, it seemed like such a symbol of “me” and the supreme importance of what you present to the world. It feels like we’ve been walking down this road for a long time.

The return trip presented me with another cultural icon – the ear buds. After entering a subway car, I sat at right angles to a fellow deeply immersed in his music. I must have been too close, for he soon moved two seats farther away. The recipe for happiness is clear: push Beethoven or Iron Maiden into your eardrums and create an island for yourself. Go away rather than go towards.

Narcissism and separation. Am I missing something here or are these lousy representations of well-being? There must be another way.

Just before the concert was to start in the Temerty Theatre, I felt the call of nature. An usher directed me down the hall, where I came upon a bathroom sporting both the male and female symbols. Was that the handicapped room? A quick scan revealed that this was the one and only washroom. Inside were five totally enclosed cubicles, and the sinks were being visited by both male and female hands.

I smiled at my companions and marvelled at how I was having a hand-washing conversation with women for the first time in my life. This was novel, fresh, simply new. We were striding into the wilderness instead of following a well-worn path. And we were having fun. Together.

I vote for breaking new ground with other human beings. Who knows what magic can happen when we climb up to the summit and gaze upon the vista revealed? Let’s find out.

What I Learned

I just spent five days with eighty open-eyed people.  I was blessed to be in their presence. I knew that I wanted to describe how our time together touched me but I didn’t see the words appearing.  I still don’t.  So allow me to stumble forward into the unknown.

“How am I doing?”  It’s a question that’s haunted me for decades.  It’s so symbolic of my belly button gazing, of looking within, of analysis and evaluation.  At times during the seminar, all of that floated away.  There was service and love, a direction of energy that was out into life, rather than coming from the outside in.  The lowered head in anticipation of incoming danger went on vacation.  The head was high, looking levelly into the eyes of my fellow travellers.

Then all that goodness disappeared.  And then … I was able to locate it again.  I had had an interaction with Patricia, our teacher, in which she asked me a question I couldn’t answer.  I panicked, and blurted out something that sounded halfway reasonable.  Was I touching whatever was just emerging?  No.  I was smashing into a wall that seemed to hide “the right answer”.  No cheese down that tunnel.  I collapsed inside, grew smaller in the badness that I’ve so often chosen as a companion.

The release came as I saw Bruce as a very hard and very small squash ball, sitting on a pillow.  The pain wasn’t inside me anymore.  It was over there, ready to be observed.  In the watching, I came back.  I lost maybe two hours, which is a marked improvement over two days.

The next thing was that I wanted to talk about the process.  I’ve had a couple of coaching sessions with one of the members of the Evolutionary Collective, and she was at the seminar.  I sought her out and told of the journey.  The “going toward” rather than the “turning away” was a revelation.  The mouth opening and disclosing instead of staying jammed shut.

Then there’s the experience of rhythm.  I’ve had this naïve thought that someday I’ll graduate from my pain, and will be this totally together human, emitting a stream of love at every moment – no challenges, no interruptions.  Ha!  Good luck.  Partway through our togetherness, one of the teachers was experiencing a feeling of separation from Patricia.  I had seen this woman as a shining light, and I still do, just not one who’s swimming in perfection.  If she sometimes trips upon the path of life, surely I have the space to do the same.  I can accept my periods of smallness and find my way back to a largeness that touches the world.  Superman … no thank you.

The rhythm of being also showed up in our daily movement sessions.  In one exercise,  we were being “moved” by our partner.  She would flick my wrist, and I had three choices: to let my arm nudge back in response; to exaggerate that reaction – throwing my arm up and staggering backward; or to resist the touch.  Refusing to be moved was so painful.  Refusing to let another influence me.  What remained was a totally right and totally alone piece of armour.  No give.  No take.  No life.  How the body teaches!

The word isn’t just “influence”.  It’s mutual influence.  Despite my moments of rigidity, I’ve often felt the gifts of others coming towards me.  On the weekend,  I saw more clearly that I influence them as well.  Such a long life before I started to let that one in.  I go into the future, perhaps two steps forward and one back, fully capable of giving in a way that allows receiving.

I matter
I love
I act
I change the world

1000

We interrupt these California musings for a public service announcement: Bruce Kerr is currently writing his one thousandth WordPress post.

Hmm. What do I do with this fact? Just let it be there, I guess. No shouting from the rooftops. No “Look at me!” Quiet.

I don’t know how many of you read my stuff. I don’t get many comments. I don’t know if my thoughts “land” in many. Both of those are okay. There’s a sense of walking into the unknown, hopefully with many friends beside me … but maybe not. What’s important is to keep throwing myself into the universe. If my heart falls to earth over the horizon, may it be a soft landing. May someone over there stop, look around, and ask “What was that?”

How do I celebrate 1000? Create a party for myself? Eat rich food and drink fine wine? Hop a flight to the Caribbean? No, no and no. Maybe just show up tomorrow in the Grade 6 class, and volunteer me to those kids. How those moments will show up … who knows? Just being in the presence of 12-year-olds will be enough.

And here’s another thought: if no one reads my experience of daily life, would I keep writing? I’ve always said that a diary is of no interest. Is it possible that, readership or no, I influence people in mysterious ways? I certainly glimpse how human beings touch me. So … whatever happens out there in my world, I will keep writing. Why not?

One thousand is feeling small right now. Not worse than two thousand. Just not important in the immense scheme of things.

There is magic to behold, and to create together. Let’s do it.

Karaoke

I learned weeks ago that we would have karaoke one evening at the Evolutionary Collective seminar in Asilomar, California. And I knew that I would sing. Apart from the briefest karaoke moments, and one time when I gave voice to the Grade 6s, I hadn’t sung to a room of human beings for forty years.

I knew that I would choose The Wings That Fly Us Home by John Denver and Joe Henry. Denver’s words and voice have soared for me for many decades. John was killed while flying his ultralight plane off the coast of Pacific Grove, California. Today I visited his memorial:

So welcome the wind and the wisdom she offers
Follow her summons when she calls again
In your heart and your spirit, let the breezes surround you
Lift up your voice then and sing with the wind

It was time to follow and so I set out to learn the lyrics. On the day before the performance, a sign up sheet appeared on our meeting room wall. I picked up the marker and made it official. And a surge ran through me. John, Joe and I would touch hearts that were already open.

Half an hour before the singing, I walked the paths of Asilomar, letting “many ways of knowing” tumble from my lips. A strange calm came down, not at all what I expected. In the room, a hat held slips of paper. The hand of a four-year-old girl chose who would sing when. I was asked to join a few others in a silly song. I put on a gauzy green scarf and gave ‘er with my friends. Can’t even remember the title!

“Next … Bruce,” said our lovely MC Genevieve. (Gulp) I tightened. I took the offer of the microphone. Genevieve whispered “We’ve got you.” As I looked out over the audience of 70, I saw that she was right. I was being held.

And then … I sang! I fell into the recently memorized words. I took in the loved ones to the left and right. They were with me. They were pulling out my best. And I gave them that.

Thoughts of my voice cracking, of not reaching the low or high notes, of disappearing lyrics – faded away. I simply shared what John and Joe and Bruce had to say:

I know that love is seeing all the infinite in one
In the brotherhood of creatures, who the father who the son?
The vision of your goodness will sustain me through the cold
Take my hand now to remember when you find yourself alone
You’re never alone …

My head was up. My soul was up. My voice was Bruce.

Some stood at the end. It felt like they all loved me.

As the evening closed, very few people congratulated me. I felt a twinge of sadness about that, but then it faded away. We were within the many songs that were sung. The theme that tied the music together was love. We were that.

There is a world beyond praise and it lives in the shared moment. Such is worth infinitely more than better and worse.

Time stops. All the world sings. It is as it’s meant to be.

It’s Been Awhile

I’ve enjoyed blogging so much in the past year that I never thought I’d go five days without doing it. But here we are. I’ve been on lots of trips where my writing started with Day One and ended as the plane touched down back at Toronto Airport. Not this time.

As much as I’ve loved being so regular with the posts, there’s a rigidity to it that doesn’t serve me. ‘I don’t have to” could be my mantra. Actually, I am free. On any given day, I can focus on pleasing myself rather than reaching out to you. And I love reaching out to you!

There’s no wisdom in feeling guilty about a five day absence. Truly a waste of energy. The Evolutionary Collective seminar was immersive and very challenging. I felt my power … I felt my weakness … I felt my love for other human beings … I felt my need to be loved, noticed, included, accepted, communicated with. I felt the whole darn enchilada! And I chose not to write to you about it.

Hmm. This feels good – writing again. I knew down deep that I wouldn’t be gone for long. It’s too much fun to put thumbs to screen. Writing “sings” to me. It makes me smile.

There’s no need to “catch up”, to remember something that happened on Day Five, etc. So … a ten day trip that seemed to end on Day Four but really was just hibernating for a bit. I wonder what else I need to say. A few hours from now, I’ll be in the Pacific Grove Library – a perfect spot to share some more stuff. Stay tuned.

Day Four: Giving and Receiving

As the Evolutionary Collective met this morning at Asilomar, I looked around the room at the beauty there. More than eighty of us sat as a coat of many colours, fine examples of both unity and uniqueness. I love the image of an ice cream cooler full of different tubs. I’d grab a spoon and dip into Rocky Road, then Pistachio, and how about some Pralines and Cream? All delicious.

Just before lunch, Patricia announced that we’d be receiving a gift. One member had created “bracelets for the women and key chains for the guys”, each emblazoned with the words “Awakened Love”. I smiled and then frowned. My heart wanted the bracelet. I don’t care about key chains. In January, Ali, a young Senegalese boy, had tied a glass bead bracelet around my wrist, a gesture so clearly of love. The first two nights I took it off to shower but then it hit me: this symbol will stay next to my skin till the day I die.

Today I approached the giver of jewelry and asked if I could have a bracelet instead of the key chain. She thought she had an extra one in her room so the future looked bright. Minutes later, a woman showed up with just what I wanted. Turns out that one of the female participants wanted a key chain! Later, at lunch, Cindy rushed up to celebrate. She had her treasure and I had mine. Both of us had been brave in asking for a change … and the universe smiled on our intentions.

Other moments of grace:

1. I had a big sunburn from yesterday, and no sunscreen. Denise noticed my dilemma. Seeing that I was about to head to the beach after lunch, she pointed to the goop that she had kindly brought to the meeting room.

2. On an evening walk, Lara played us a phone call she just received from her young daughter back east. “Goodnight, mommy. Please come home soon.” It’s a keeper.

3. I’ve been seeing a counsellor to deal with past traumas. She’s at the conference. When I was feeling so very small this afternoon, I reached out to her for five minute of coaching. I left her with compassion for myself that I sometimes get triggered and immediately go into a knee jerk collapse. I celebrated that I brought myself back within a couple of hours.

4. About thirty of us went down to the beach this evening to see the sunset. The big ball popped below the cloud cover just before diving beneath the horizon. It wasn’t a grand show. The grandness was in our eyes, which often turned from the sun to each other. We were together. That was enough.

***

Simple moments, full of grace. Enough to fill a day with quiet satisfaction.

Day Three: And So We Begin

I walked out of my door this morning to the scent of wood. There’s a pool at the motel and workers are erecting a fence around it. It’s redwood, and the smell was sweet. I just stood and breathed it in, and life entered as well. There is great beauty available on the inhale.

The fence is composed of long horizontal boards, with a few inches of air separating each piece. From the window table of the breakfast room, I gazed at the design. The walls create the feeling of sanctuary but the openness allows contact with the world beyond. And we humans need both: a sense of home, of safety, as well as the need to reach out to others. I love symbols.

Kaitlyn and Ryan were back for breakfast and I was looking forward to talking to them again. Although they were friendly, they said no to my request to join them. As I watched them head to their room, I was sad. I felt the intentional distance. And I wished them well, knowing I’ll probably never see them again.

This afternoon, we members of the Evolutionary Collective begin our adventure. We’re at the Asilomar Conference Grounds, a collection of old stone and wood buildings created by Julia Morgan, one of the first women to break through the glass ceiling of architecture. And breakthroughs in our lives are possible for all of us over the next five days. Perhaps one hundred people will share the consciousness that is both personal and global, timeless and evolutionary, raucous and sublime. What will come to be? I don’t know.

***

I walked my suitcase to Asilomar this morning, and greeted kindred souls in the lobby. I knew there would be an online mutual awakening practice at noon, where we see each other in little rectangles on our screens. I decided to bolt for the beach with my smartphone. One boardwalk looked like it would go there, and I sallied forth. Sand dunes full of tiny exotic plants came my way. As I walked at some distance from the resort, I finally figured out that the boardwalk was climbing. 11:48. Push on or admit defeat? I stood for a bit, and soon was retracing my steps.

Another boardwalk seemed to be seeking water. 11:54. I trotted across 17 Mile Drive and there was the expanse of sand. Rocks to the right at the water’s edge. I plunked down on a fairly flat one and checked out what the worldwide folks would see, using selfie view. Yes! Waves rolling ashore and bubbling up on rocks. At 12:00, my friends from here, there and everywhere got to see the Pacific.

I could only hold up my phone for so long and then I dropped my arms, leaving people seeing me and the sky. After a little rest, here came the seascape again. And the pattern repeats. I was determined to give my best, to have the world see the beauty. Along the way, young families strolled by. I loved the wee little kids. And surfers in wet suits. And a school class eager to dig for tiny crabs. All of us together.

***

Now it’s late. There were 86 of us in the room, including 13 newbies to this depth of the work, including me. We did a practice where groups of five EC Core members would beam love to us new guys. All told, I got to stand and sit in front of thirteen groups of fine souls. At the end of it all, I knew I belonged, in a way that also thoroughly respected my uniqueness.

***

I am very tired. Time for bed, my friends. See you on the morrow.

Day Two: Wandering … Inside and Out

I began my day in the breakfast room of the Lighthouse Lodge in Pacific Grove, California. I talked with a woman my age (we’re both approximately 85). She and her hubby had moved to Reno, Nevada a while back. “Do you like it there?” > “No.” [a refreshingly straight answer, I thought] > “How come?” > “Just a lot of cactus.” > “So why did you move there?” > “They don’t have income tax.”

We talked about other stuff but the deepest part of me was way behind the conversation. I was sad for her. I could feel her heart shrivelling within the bonds of practicality.

Next up in the “butter your bagel” parade was a mom and her adult daughter. They had heard me mention the word “consciousness” to the first woman, and apparently their antennae were up. Mom came over and asked about the seminar I’m in at Asilomar starting on Thursday. I smiled and turned my chair to them. Ryan and Kaitlyn work with kids, trying to head off adult problems at the pass. They were happy to hear about the Evolutionary Collective.

If Ryan hadn’t come forward, I may or may not have started a conversation. Her courage opened windows between us, and we flew through together. I hope they’re back pouring their coffee tomorrow morning.

***

I’m tapping away in the lobby of Asilomar. It’s a grand wooden space with a row of beams way up high and simple chandeliers watching from above. Even though I’m a day early, I’ve been hoping that some EC folks stroll by. There’s lots of room on the leather couch for our hearts to join. Many people come and go but I don’t know any of their faces. Alas … my friends and future friends are elsewhere. I miss them.

It’s time to wander in the world. But wait a second. A gentleman has just sat down at a piano that I didn’t even notice. He kisses the keys with his fingertips. I’ll wander a bit later. Oops … he just stopped, plunking himself down on a nearby bench. I call out to him: “Play some more!” He smiles but doesn ‘t return to the piano. His wife comes out of the gift shop. He stands and walks away with her, waving a goodbye to me.

So, Bruce … now what? After all, that piano is looking a bit lonely.

***

If you guessed that I sauntered right over and tickled the ivories, you’d be right. Oh my goodness, that made me happy. I don’t read piano music so I just let my fingers find their way. Probably twenty years ago, I let myself do this in public … and then I shut it down. It was a general fear of people that mounted year by year. I let it put a lid on my natural expression at the piano. Not today!

There were about five folks in the lobby while I played. Afterwards, not a word, not a clap, not a problem. I’m no concert hall pianist but my heart does have a way of migrating into my hands.

***

I decided on a supper destination – the Red House Café in downtown Pacific Grove. To get there, I’ll walk on the coastal path, around the big point and eventually find streets again.

I set off amid the wonder of blue sky and the whisper of a breeze. Along the way, I was greeted by rock outcrops, the whitest sand beaches, gulls and cormorants, tidal pools, blankets of a green tubular plant, flowers, and … Adriana Massino.

I spotted a young woman ahead on the path wearing a glowing ball cap. It looked so cool as she sauntered along. As I caught up to her, I smiled and said “I love your hat!” She smiled back. I waited a second to see if she wanted to extend the conversation, and she did. She asked if we could walk together. And we did.

Adriana is Italian, now living in Paris. She and her partner have started a company, and are in the US to see if some Americans want to join them in the endeavour. The business focuses on an online service that makes it easier for pet owners to access veterinarians (at least I think that was it!)

Adriana was so easy to be with. No hurry, let’s see what’s on the side paths, look at the beauty of this place, time for another photo. We talked of life, of the wide open spaces here, of the crush of people in Paris, of Senegal, of Canada, of kindness. Sometimes she went first on the path, sometimes I did. Sometimes we bubbled in our talking, sometimes we were silent. All was fine.

Adriana and I hugged goodbye, knowing that the most likely thing is that we’ll never see each other again. Still, we shared an hour of contact, of smiles, of ease.

I am blessed.

Day One: Have You Ever Been to Denver?

I’m sitting in a pub, watching Toronto Airport passengers chow down – some happily engaged in travelling-type conversation and others solitary, perhaps contemplating what their life’s journey will be. Ahh, that’s such a mystery. Out on the concourse, carry-on suitcases zip by with their owners, bound for Gate This or That. Some folks stroll. Others push hard towards boarding times. All is well.

Denver is three hours and forty-five minutes away, Monterey, California a couple of hours beyond that. My layover in Colorado will steep me in airport architecture and the comings and goings of more passengers. I’ll be able to say that I’ve been to Denver, but I won’t. Just like people, it takes time to know the insides of cities. In the same spirit, I don’t know Amsterdam, The Netherlands or Lisbon, Portugal. Name-dropping, anyone?

The five days of the Evolutionary Collective’s seminar in California will offer me the insides of many cosmic travellers. We give each other what is most precious, and we allow the giving to flow well beyond “the group”, for all Earth-dwellers need love. The surface contact of typical social discourse just won’t do on the shores of the Pacific. We’re up for bigger and broader things.

***

Now I’m in Denver and the last three hours have been spectacular. Not because of the scenery, other than the swoop over downtown Toronto on takeoff. After that, it was clouds. The majesty was in the woman who sat beside me across the States. Her name is Shanti. She’s a podiatrist who lives with her husband in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Those details are fine but they don’t touch the spirit of the person. How is it that I’m so blessed to meet such a bevy of fine human beings? I don’t know but I’m totally willing for this to continue.

Shanti told me so many things. I’m sitting here trying to keep her stories straight … unsuccessfully! We both laughed hard when I admitted my confusion. And it doesn’t matter. If I get the facts all jumbled, it’ll just be more fun to read.

Shanti told me about her once nine-year-old daughter who went on a mission trip to Ecuador with church members. This “girly girl”, who at home had to look perfect, didn’t give a hoot about that in the jungle. The group was building a road and the young one spent her days felling plants with a machete. Mom showed me a long ago photo of one beaming young lady.

Then there was longer ago – a family trip to Barbados. Shanti’s childless aunt and uncle lived there and insisted that everybody stayed with them over Christmas. A fine time was had by all. And … the emerging tradition was repeated for the next twenty years! Longterm joy to everyone.

Shanti and I share the blessing of community. For her, it’s the church in Albuquerque. For me, it’s the worldwide members of the Evolutionary Collective. We’re both immersed in the deepest sense of family. In 2020, Shanti and her husband will travel to somewhere in the US for a retreat for church members from probably 90 countries. Maybe more than a thousand folks in this family. Truly a wow.

Do you get the sense of this person? I sure do. She lives her life in a reaching out, a being of service … a bottomless love.

Blessings abound.