Spotted in Vancouver Today

Mind-bending spoons

OK, this is gonna sound weird. Today, I twisted a spoon.

Let me back track a bit. Today I attended the Annual General Meeting of the Canadian Reiki Association. It wasn’t the first AGM I’ve attended so I was prepared for a somewhat boring meeting of approvals for board membership, minutes and agendas.

To a certain extent that was true of this gathering. Like all non-profits, the CRA is subject to certain legal rituals and procedures and of course, these were duly observed and executed.

The afternoon was for the fun stuff. Dorothy Biagioni spoke about animal communication and healing. The next speaker, percussionist Joseph “Pepe’ Danza, had a mix up on his flight plans and was unable to attend.

As an alternative, a woman got up and offered to do a demonstration of spoon twisting. I laughed to myself. Spoon bending, according to Wikipedia, is the apparent deformation of objects, especially metal cutlery, either without physical force, or with less force than normally necessary.

Illusionist Uri Gellar was noted for this particular ability. I thought it quite silly – what are you supposed to do with ruined cutlery?

But I was game. I took the spoon they gave me and tried to bend it. Couldn’t do it. The woman then guided us through a meditation and explained that everyone could do this.

We were instructed to guide the energy up from the earth, through our legs, torsos, to our shoulders, down are arms, and to the wrist.

I am really not sure what happened next. As she instructed us to direct the energy to our hands and fingers, the grip I had on the spoon faltered and I dropped the spoon. The sound bought me out of my reverie. I looked down at the spoon. It was bent out of shape.

I was a bit stunned. I picked up the spoon-it was hot to the touch, as were my hands. There was a deep indentation in my palm left by the bowl of the spoon. I didn’t feel a thing. Even now, some four hours later, there is still a faint mark.

I laughed nervously and looked around me. No else at my table could twist their spoon.

I am still a bit amazed now, looking at the spoon. I tried to bend it back into it’s original shape. Can’t do it.

But the question still remains: What I am I supposed to do with ruined cutlery?

Tabbouleh!

Us and them

So I want to tell you about my neighbour Jerry.

Not the Jerry that lives down the hall from me, nor the Jesse who lives next door. To be honest, I don’t know where Jerry lives, or even if he has a place to sleep on any given night.

But just about every day, I see Jerry panning in front of a bakery a block away from where I live.

I think it’s safe to say that most West Enders know Jerry. Many know him by name and many take a moment to help him out, either with food, money or a kind word.

I don’t know a lot about him to be honest. I don’t what demons haunt him or what kind of life experiences he’s had that’s led him to life on the streets.

I do know he has family in 100 Mile House. I know he likes the sausage and egg breakfast sandwich from Starbucks. He likes Jones orange soda. He always has a smile on his face.

There are a lot people like Jerry in Vancouver. There are thousands who are homeless, countless more who live in poverty, and even more who struggle with mental illness and addiction. B.C. has the distinction of having the highest child poverty rates in the country.

British Columbians are yet again heading to the ballot box, this time to elect a provincial government. I am weary of elections-I dutifully walked to the Church down the street to vote in the federal election, a provincial by-election and most recently, the municipal elections. And I don’t think it’s done a lick of good.

I am tired of political rhetoric. I am tired of politicians who are incapable of seeing issues that extend beyond the parameters of an election cycle. And let’s face it, poverty has little sex appeal; there are no quick wins, no fast solutions and there are no silver bullets.

I don’t pretend to know all the answers. My best guesses for addressing poverty? It requires governments at all levels to work together (horrors!). It needs a significant investment, especially in affordable housing and education. And it needs the input and engagement of those for whom these policies affect.

It just occurred to me, I’m not even sure those without an address can even vote. What if you don’t have ID? Or if you can’t prove the minimum B.C. residency? All the more reason for me to shake the apathetic dust off my feet and get to a polling station.

Make poverty history, an international effort to eradicate poverty, says a comprehensive poverty reduction plan with legislated targets and timelines is the best way to make progress on reducing poverty. I think it’s a good place to start, and I think as citizens and as voters we have the power to see this through.

Eradicating poverty benefits everyone. There’s enough misery and despair in this world, we don’t need any more. So ask your local candidates where they stand on poverty.

When it comes to poverty, there is no us and them. There is no other. Jerry is my neighbour and he’s yours too.

If it be your will (recorded live in Dublin)

Bird on a wire

I am going to try really hard not to gush. Honestly. But it’s going to be hard.

Last night, I had the privilege (oops, I am gushing…sheesh, I am only on the second sentence) of seeing Leonard Cohen in concert at GM Place.

I have to confess I’ve always preferred other singers covering Cohen’s song. I love KD Lang and Jeff Buckley’s version of Hallelujah. Aaron Neville does a gorgeous version of Bird on a Wire. And Jennifer Warnes does an evocative and melancholy Famous Blue Raincoat. I’ve always preferred Cohen reciting his poetry.

As a teenager, my high school English teacher lent me his copies of Spice Box of Earth and Flowers for Hitler. And he lent me a 1960s era recording of Cohen reciting his poetry. I was in love. No, I was in LOVE.

It thrilled me then, and even now, how he managed to dance the fine line between the sacred and the obscene.

And to be sure, he actually knelt during many of his songs, and delivered his shall we say blue lyrics, with a tiny smile and a sly humour that belied his age.

The best thing he did was to recite two beautiful poems, For those who greeted me (You came to me this morning/And you handled me like meat/You’d have to be a man to know/How good that feels, how sweet). He left the women in the audience swooning and I swear the woman sitting behind me came.

The second was If it be your will (I shall abide until I am spoken for/If it be your will). He recited the first stanzas alone and then the Webb Sisters (who sang back up along with the sublime Sharon Robinson) sang the entire song playing guitar and harp.

He also did something I’ve never seen a performer do: he treated the musicians and crew with reverence. He introduced the band at least twice, and allowed several opportunities for each musician’s talents to be highlighted. He bowed to each member and thanked them with a sincerity that was returned.

Spotted in Vancouver today