A Spinning Top

The ad popped onto my phone this morning: Above all, a top must be simple, elegant and designed forever. The words were accompanied by a photo – a perfectly balanced top doing its thing.

I said yes in that moment.

There was no research, no plotting of uses, no cost-benefit analysis. There was just yes.

I stared at the simplicity, the balance … the beauty of the object. What is happening to your brain, my man? I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

Bruce – what does this thing cost? Shhh.

What good is it? Shhh.

Are you nuts? Shhh again.

And … you better not write about this on WordPress! (Sigh)

I sat quietly and listened. The “yes” was coursing through me, uninformed by rational thought. There wasn’t any bloated verbiage, only that one word.

It was time to see what the company had to say:

According to recent studies, fiddling with items at your desk can aid thought process and improve productivity.

Nah

Learn about the colors, weights and attributes of the metals of our tops.

Nah

We all love to challenge ourselves! Beat your own spin times, or better yet, compete with your friends for pizza and drinks.

Nah Nah

In a few days, my titanium top and a circular glass base will knock on my door. I will welcome them into my family.

Enough said

Just A

Often when I hear people talk about something, they describe what happened, or what was said. Then they go on to give me the meaning they see in that. The moral of the story.

In those moments, I wonder what’s in the mind of the speaker. That his or her truth is the truth? Or that the onlookers aren’t smart enough to come to their own conclusions? Mathematically, the strategy could be described as A → B. What if we just talked about A and left it at that? There may be a lesson but you figure that out. Your lesson may be different from mine.

***

I watched a commercial on CNN today for Aetna Medicare.  A black man, maybe 60, was shooting hoops on a community basketball court.  Not only shooting, but sinking every shot … from well behind the foul line.  Oh, he was having fun!  Every once in awhile he’d glance off to the side.  Behind a chain link fence were three teens.  The girl in the middle held a basketball, and was flanked by two guys.

The girl’s eyes went wide as the man kept nailing his jumpers.  She shared a huge smile with her friends.  The boys were cooler about it but you could tell they were impressed.

Finally the guy smiled at the kids and made a wide sweep of his arm.  The girl basically jumped out of her skin and raced for the gate.  The fellows stood there for a few seconds but then followed the girl’s lead.

The next image was a fast game of two on two.  Everyone was so intense!  Then the man wings a pass to the girl and she swoops in for the layup.  High five across the generations.

***

And now is the time for me to stop
(Grin)

Sufficiency

I enjoy meditating. Here’s the view from the meditation chair in my bedroom.

This afternoon I closed my eyes and let the flowing come to me, being with whatever thoughts or no-thoughts were there. As is often the case, there came a moment when my eyes opened, unbidden by my mind. Someone knew that the meditation was over.

For the first time ever, I remained in the chair for half-an-hour or so. With meandering eyes, I looked across the fields and welcomed far-off cars on their left-to-right or right-to-left journeys.

At one point, there was a thought: “I am sufficient.” It wasn’t an assertive affirmation. It was merely a fact … a quiet one. There was no eruption in my brain, no strident legal arguments to dispute the peace. What did show up was a calm inventory of potential deficiencies:

You want to lose a few pounds.

That’s true. But no big deal. I want to stay healthy and I will.

Do you realize that hardly anybody comments on your WordPress posts or likes them on Facebook?

You’re right. I wonder why. Oh well … I’ll write again tomorrow.

You wanted your next life partner to show up within a few years of Jody dying, but you haven’t found the special one.

Hmm. So true. And yet I’m fine. I can feel it in my bones.

You know, it’s possible that you don’t have much time left on this planet, even though you seem to be in good health.

I wonder … do I have one year left or twenty? (Smile)

***

So quiet right now
Was that a pin I heard dropping?
Time stretches beyond the horizon
And all is well

Animating Life

I’m thinking of two different perspectives:

1. Things stay the same, becoming solid and dull over time
2. Things change, flow and brighten

While it makes sense that things evolve, gradually becoming new versions of themselves, it seems to me that we don’t act that way.  If I tell you, “I am a teacher”, it’s likely you have a stable image of what that means, due to your life experiences about teaching.  And it’s easy to become so firm in our perception of something, such as a maple tree, that the original beauty of the object becomes lost.  The spreading branches in the backyard, adorned with lovely reds and oranges in the fall, simply becomes “a tree”.

When we use adjectives, such as “humble” or “endearing”, the aliveness of the word is so often invisible to us.  To be “not full of oneself, without pride” shows me a person with a glass half full – lots of room to discover the new in life.  To be “lovable, precious, making dear” shows me a person who shines as the light plays over the jewel, someone who deserves to be held as you would a baby bird, someone whose glow touches others.

Some of us use a lot of words, almost a barrage at times.  The flood of verbiage doesn’t give us time to pause, and reflect on what has been said.  Compare the land as perceived from a car to what the cyclist sees.  I also think of black soil after a rain.  If I really pay attention, I see the lovely seeping of water into the earth … so slow and exquisite.

I have two favourite words.  The first no doubt would be the choice of many.  The second I likely share with virtually no one.

Love

Did I guess right?

Animation

How about this time?

If your first thought is something like this: “the technique of photographing successive drawings of models to create an illusion of movement”, I understand.  My joy, however, is in “the process of giving life to, of making alive”.  The words we choose, the moments where we pause and behold, the creation of an alive space between us – these are what we give and receive.

The Last Breath

I thought tonight about Greg Scharf. He was my favourite teacher at the Insight Meditation Society, a Buddhist centre in Massachusetts. I enjoyed many silent retreats there.

Greg was a great storyteller. One night he told us about an old monk who was declining physically. A week or so before he died, he looked out at a circle of sad devotees and said something like this: “You know, in a matter of days or weeks, I’m not going to be here anymore. I’ll be dead!” The venerable one then burst out laughing, bent over with a bellyful of mirth. And the joy kept rolling off him.

I can only imagine how shocked his audience was. I’m still shocked, and Greg’s story was five years ago. How astonishing to see the end as the best joke in the world, rather than the slow plod of a hearse.

Wow.

Will I have the same grace to see the lightness of it all when my finale approaches? In the intervening time, how will I be with inevitable losses? Friends dying, perhaps memory deserting, disease intruding, no longer being able to drive my car, needing someone to shave me.

Seventeen years ago, I ruptured a tendon in my foot and underwent tendon transfer surgery (thank you Dr. Willits!) I was on crutches for 17 weeks, and was just starting a new teaching job in a high school. My office was on the third floor and the principal made sure I had an elevator key. That first day, I looked down the stairs and realized that what was so ordinary was now impossible. The gulp of frailty is still within my mind.

And a smile is on my face. How strange that there’s no fear here, just a leaning forward into whatever’s next. It’s a wonder. Whether the end is one year away or twenty, may the smile not desert me. Why not chuckle at the silliness of it all?

***

For those of you who read my post yesterday, you’ll be pleased to know that my new printer is working fine, fully aligned with my laptop and cell phone. And I had a lovely conversation last night with my friend. Finishing is fun.

Unfinished Business

A long time ago, in a province far, far away … I was a trainee in Werner Erhard’s est program.  A weekend for us in Vancouver had been scheduled and we had homework to complete beforehand.  One item on the list caught my attention:  “Clean your fridge.”  So down-to-earth, not really transformational at all.  

Except it was. Once soggy veggies and scum-laden crevices had been dispensed with, I gazed in wonder at the shiny freshness. On the flight west, I marvelled at the release I felt, and images of my dear fridge kept appearing.

Then there’s now. Seems like the lessons take time to sink in. An unopened box sits in the den at the front of my home. It’s done that for a month now. Inside no doubt is a new printer. My old one really struggled with the latest Microsoft update and the future looks bleak for this model that’s been left behind. You could say that it’s not really a problem, since printed pages continue to spew out of the beast.

But then there’s my mind. “I bet it’ll take a couple of hours to set up the new printer. Probably there’ll be stuff I don’t understand and I’ll be stuck on hold with the folks at Hewlett-Packard.” However I spin it, the basic fact is that I told myself I’d do X, and X keeps sitting there, sticking its tongue out at me. My printer energy is stuck, and that’s not good enough for this fellow who wants to flow out into the world.

It’s 6:30 pm right now and I choose not to begin the box-opening saga, but I promise you I will get the new one going tomorrow daytime. Whatever I write about tomorrow evening, I’ll attach a note about my progress/success. So there.

I get there’s power here. Moving unfinished to finished. In the past few days, I’ve done a few simple things that leave me with a head held high:

1.  I cut my toenails.  No big deal?  Wrong.  The arthritis in my right wrist makes it hard to wield toenail clippers, but I persisted.  It took a long time and I don’t care.  I’m tempted to attach a pic of my toes but perhaps I’ll choose discretion.

2.  I cleaned the shower, finally figuring out that wearing knee pads would allow me to really give ‘er with the brush for minutes at a time.  I don’t care if I never clued in before.  I now have a clean shower.

3.  This is an unmentionable concerning the human body so I won’t mention it.  But it’s been a long time coming and (Praise the Lord!) the deed is done.  Definitely no photos of this one.

4.  I … dusted.  And swept.  Where exactly did all this flotsam and jetsam come from?  No matter, the accumulation is now residing at the bottom of my garbage can.

5.  Over the last week, I phoned three friends to see how they’re doing.  We haven’t seen each other in person since March.  Very cool people, each their own distinct flavour of humanity.  We met.

***

Hmm.  My head is higher.  There’s a spring to my step.  The flow is flowing once more.

And yet one more vestige of incompletion remains.  Another dear friend hasn’t heard from me for awhile.  So when my tapping, proofreading and sending is done in a few minutes, I’ll give her a dingle.

Ahh …

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Hans Christian Andersen was a Danish creator of fairy tales who lived in the 1800’s.  In an alternative universe, he’s an American in the 2000’s.

There once was an emperor.  He thought quite a lot of himself.  Others decided to follow suit.

Prime Minister:  The people are clamoring for you, Your Majesty.

Emperor:  They’re not clamoring very loud.

Prime Minister:  But they’re our best clamorers …

Emperor:  Tell them I want more clamoring.  I want more clamor!

Bad people posing as weavers offered to create for His Topness a stunning new wardrobe.  The only members of the public who wouldn’t be able to see the finery were those who were stupid or incompetent.  And who would want to be considered as such?

The Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him, one garment after another.  They took him around the waist and seemed to be fastening something – that was his train – as the Emperor turned round and round before the looking glass.

“How well Your Majesty’s new clothes look.  Aren’t they becoming?” he heard on all sides.  “That pattern, so perfect!  Those colors, so suitable!  It is a magnificent outfit.”

Then the Minister of Public Processions announced: “Your Majesty’s canopy is waiting outside.”

“Well, I’m supposed to be ready,” the Emperor said, and turned again for one last look in the mirror.  “It is a remarkable fit, isn’t it?”  He seemed to regard his costume with the greatest interest.

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle.  Then they pretended to lift and hold it high.  They didn’t dare admit they had nothing to hold.

The crowds cheered and kept their gaping hidden behind the folds of the face.  Not a word of discord would be said.  Hundreds of people nodded and clapped.

“But he has nothing on at all,” said a little child at last.  “Good heavens!  Listen to the voice of an innocent child,” said the father, and one whispered to the other what the child had said.  “But he has nothing on at all,” cried at last the whole people.

And please tell me when the moment of “at last” will finally come.

TV That Does Good

The Mandalorian is a TV series, now in its second season, that’s available on the Disney Plus streaming service.  It carries on the legacy of the Star Wars universe, offering new characters and tantalizing connections with old ones.  The hero is from Mandalore.  He’s a bounty hunter who comes across “The Child” (an infant) and decides to protect him as he hunts down the bad guys.  The Mandalorian lives in a Wild West land, except that land covers the vastness of space.

There are a lot of action adventures on offer in living rooms and movie theatres.  They present an escape from dreariness and fear, well represented these days by Covid.  But is there more?  Can media give us healing and transcendence and love?  Surely our personal relationships are where these values reside.  But only there?

I love going on the What’s New on Disney Plus website to see what folks are writing about this or that show.  A few days ago, a fellow posted this:

“I’ve been trying to get my mom into The Mandalorian because she loves Star Wars.  For some reason, she couldn’t get into it.  When I asked why, she said it’s because she’s a woman.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe there are a lot of women that love this show, and not just for Baby Yoda.”

I started reading the replies.  Here’s a sample from the six hundred.  Please enjoy them.

***

Strong, mysterious man with a soft spot for babies and kids
What’s not to love?

One of the things my wife and I share is our love of Star Wars

Gender is meaningless.  The Mandalorian is awesome

Has she heard Pedro’s voice? [the actor playing The Mandalorian]
That alone should be good reason enough

My mom really enjoys watching The Mandalorian.  She gets excited every Friday.  Even my grandma got into it

Love it!  I think the strong characters and the non-wussy women
are fantastic

I love the sense of humor

Honestly, I think that if it wasn’t for the way Mando protects the child
I wouldn’t be waiting impatiently for the next episode

I love the “space western” feel it has

Far too many men try to gatekeep us out of geeky things
We mustn’t do it to ourselves

It illustrates that a manly man can be a father

Love watching it with my 13-year-old grandson every week

Tell your mom in the Mandalorian way of life, women are equal warriors
and some of the most fierce and famous Mandalorians are female

It doesn’t make you less of a woman to like something

I count the minutes until the next episode

My mom loves anything and everything Star Wars.  And she’s 89-years-old!

I look forward to Friday nights when my husband and I get to watch
The Mandalorian

***

Sweetly said, everyone

Obonato

The anthropologist invited the children from the African tribe to play one game.  He placed a basket of fruit near the tree and announced, addressing the children: “The one of you who reaches the tree first will be rewarded with all of the sweet fruits.”  When he signaled to the children to start the race, they locked their hands tightly and ran together, and then they all sat together and enjoyed the delicious fruit.

The astonished anthropologist asked the children why they all ran together, because each of them could have enjoyed the fruit for him or herself.  To which the children replied: “Obonato”.  Is it possible for one to be happy if everyone else is sad?  “Obonato” in their language means “I exist because we exist.”

I don’t know who wrote this.  It’s not important.  We humanity wrote it.  Similarly, it doesn’t matter if I write a particular thing in this blog.  What matters is that it is written.

We lives and breathes and creates.  We brings joy and reverence for life.  I is a mere shadow of what life can be.  The African kids got the message.  Can we adult Westerners, older and supposedly wiser, understand … and live from there?  The future is cheering us on: “You folks can do it!”  Let’s prove the future right.

Two Faces

How do you assess the quality of the candidates for the US Presidency? Naturally, you listen to what each one says, and listen between the lines for what is not being said. Same goes for what they do and don’t do. And you look for character: for empathy, courage and general decency. I’ve done all that, and I’m super happy that Joe Biden is President-Elect.

I also look at faces. I see things there. I don’t care about bone structure that may produce what many people label as “handsome”. I don’t care about hairstyle or a waddle under the chin. I do look for softness, a sense of the skin gently moving rather than looking like a rigid mask. I think we all need to be moved by life while remaining strong, much like well-rooted grasses waving in the wind.

I look for balance, a general verticality and symmetry. A head askew must put a lot of pressure on the neck … and the soul.

I look for soft eyes, open to give and receive – eyes that seem large and blend into the rest of the face. Eyes that are open rather than enlarged slits.

I look for a face that is alive as opposed to dead, one that breathes and leans toward the future, rather than to the past. A dead face is so sad to behold … no joy and no sorrow.

I watch the lips. Do they sweetly lie above and below each other or press tight for victory? Is the mouth languidly horizontal or curled up on one end? Do the words sound like a melody or a dog barking?

Smiles are nice. Do they ever happen on this face? If so, is it a smile of union or divide, of brother and sisterhood or conquest? And … if benign, does the smile linger past the immediate thought?

***

Faces can change over time, and I don’t mean the inevitability of aging. Faces can mellow. Faces can rediscover the joyous lines of childhood. Faces can turn toward other faces and see who’s there.

May it be so.