I find it valuable to write about emotional, physical or spiritual experiences when I’m right inside them, rather than “Here’s how I felt yesterday, but I no longer feel that way.”

So here I am … heavy in the eyes, spaced out, vacant.  It’s right here, right now.  And the voice starts in: “Write something tomorrow, Bruce, when you’re feeling better.  You’re too woozy right now to make much sense.  When you’re at the top of your game, that’s the time to do a WordPress post.  You say you want your thoughts to contribute to people.  There’s just not much coming out of your brain right now.”

Well, that’s one perspective – quite a reasonable one, I’d say.  Perhaps, though, the world doesn’t need so much reason.  Could it be that listening to someone who’s in the middle of an experience can be valuable to the reader, no matter what that experience is?  In my fairly stupefied state, I say yes.

“Your words will come out garbled.  You won’t find the right word for what you want to say.  You’ll make all sorts of spelling and grammar mistakes and won’t be alert enough to correct them.”  I see.  Quite a persistent voice.

What do I enjoy reading?  Stuff that’s real.  The writer is not trying to impress with their intelligence, wit or creativity.  He or she is just telling you the way it is for them.  And the readers probably can put themselves in the writer’s shoes.  “I’ve been there.”

The “there” right now is so very dull.  The clarity and joy that have often shown up recently seem to be hiding behind a curtain, and my reaching hand can’t find the hem to pull the heaviness aside.  Strangely, it’s not an emotional blahness.  I can see the animated Bruce as a silhouette just out of reach.  I know my gifts haven’t gone anywhere.  They haven’t deserted me.  They’ll come back through the fog to say hello.  How strange … right now there’s a little smile on my drooping face, even as my eyes call me to sleep.

What can we human beings create when the body is not co-operating with transcendence, power and union with others?  Can I just “snap out of it” and be all set for a brisk walk in the world?  It doesn’t feel that way.  My body will continue to do what it chooses but my heart has a say in this as well.  I get to decide the extent to which I reach out to my fellow travellers.  In every moment, brimming with energy or slumping my way along, it’s up to me.

Hmm.  I chose.  I wrote this post.  Thanks for listening.


Day Eight: Mission

Well, well, well. Here I am in Mission, B.C. I was by far the slowest human being but I got a cheer when I rolled down the driveway of the campground. I have such supportive companions. Today Mike, Ken and Paul specially made sure I was okay. To be cared for is so marvelous. I need to continue letting people do this, because it not only touches me but it’s a gift to them.

What would it take for me to cross Canada? I could do it very slowly, taking all the hours I need. I could walk any hills that are too much for me. In fact, that’s what I did today.

The day after tomorrow, we’re doing a long and steep ride. I have a front light on my bike. Maybe I could show up at 10:00 pm!

I wonder at the possibility that I could actually complete the tour. I’m slow on the bike, and unskilled. But there still could be a way.

I was so down during yesterday’s post. Many folks responded to me but I don’t have a good enough Internet connection to reply. In fact, I don’t know if this post will fly. Thank you all for caring so much about me.

I’m very tired and I’m heading to my tent. May I be strong enough to get to Hope, B.C. tomorrow.


My head has been swimming most of the day.  I know I’m not physically sick but I have some theories about what’s wrong with me.


I rode my bike hard yesterday for over an hour.  It’s been a long time since ta-pocketa and I have done that.  I have a cool cycling computer from Polar that records stuff like speed, calories burned and heart rate.  As well, it gives me my “recovery status”, showing the amount of stress I put on my body and how many days I should wait until I ride again.  The results?  “Extreme” and “3 days and 3 hours”.  Ouch.  That’s a long time.

Today is Day One of those three and my body feels heavy, like my internal organs have gravitated southward.  No exercise today, thank you.


I’m in the midst of weaning myself off sleeping pills, something I’ve wanted to do for years.  This week and next, I’m taking half a pill every day instead of a full one.  Sleep has been short and interrupted.  This morning, it felt like my brain was on a slow-motion treadmill.  Conversations seemed to have big spaces in them.  This afternoon I tried meditating (Good luck!) and then slipped beneath the covers for an hour.  I was just as vacant upon arising.


I asked a woman to be my girlfriend last night, and she’ll answer when she’s ready to do so.  Take your time, my friend.  Many years ago, Jody told me that sometimes people would get curious about her, and visit her spiritually when everybody was sleeping.  And later I noticed that, after I had done something unusual, my head would often get hot and sleep wouldn’t come.  Well, last night felt pretty unusual and my head’s been hot.  Could it be that I’ve had a few visitors?


So the mind is warm, absent and plodding.  And so what?  More seasons are on their way.


Day Forty-Two … Driving Hard For Home

I left Henry and Louise’s place in Weyburn, Saskatchewan at 10:30 am yesterday.  I rolled into the motel in Eau Claire, Wisconsin at 12:48 am.  Allowing for the time zone change and maybe one hour for eats and gas, I was driving for 12 hours.  Oh Bruce, you silly goose.  When I was planning this trip a couple of months ago in the comfort of my man chair, I thought “Three days to get home from Lance’s.  No sweat.”  Wrong.

I decided that the wilds of North Dakota and Minnesota would be perfect for listening to Ken Wilber non-stop.  He’s a spiritual teacher whom I really like.  So I enjoyed about 9 hours of Ken and me.  He has so many cool ideas.  Here’s just one:

Ken talks about “The Pre/Trans Fallacy”.  His contention is that in our rational world, some people assume that anything non-rational is basically infantile, not allowing for the possibility that some behaviours outside of rational may come from a higher level of consciousness than the thinking mind.  So … I’ve been trying to convince myself that what I often do with supermarket cashiers is the epitome of maturity.  (By the way, I pronounce that word “e-pi-toe-m”, just for fun.)  When it’s time for my debit card, I plug it into the machine, which I then hold to my ear like a phone.  A brief but impactful conversation with my mother then ensues.  “Hey mom.  How are the clouds today … cirrus? … cumulus?”  I’m sure you can detect the evolved being right away.  Anyway, it’s fun, whether pre or trans.

Blissing out on Mr. Ken, I also had to embrace the world of semi-trailers and hills.  After dark, east of Minneapolis, and fortified with a cup of coffee, I was still fading some.  It felt like the road ahead was one endless hill, for at least half an hour.  Maybe it was, or perhaps my mind had created a vision of upwardness.

Earlier, knowing that a midnight arrival was likely, I passed lots of vehicles and was usually 10 kph over the speed limit.  Neither of those choices were “me”, or so I thought, but maybe I should expand my definition of Bruceness.  In the late evening, I had no more oomph for passing so I quietly stayed behind a climbing (?) semi for many miles.  Oh, for another coffee, but there was no neon until I took the exit in Eau Claire.

As you can tell from the existence of this e-mail, I made it.  And I’ll make it again today.  According to Google Maps, I’m 11 hours and 6 minutes from my home in Union, Ontario.  Plus another time zone change.  And the possibility of a border delay.  I better get going.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll write my last road trip blog post.  It’s bittersweet.  I’ve sure enjoyed talking to you cyber folks.