The Lievekaai is a cobbled park beside the Lieve River in Gent.  The parade of weeping willows always delights me.  They’re only a ten-minute walk from my apartment.

I have a favourite bench, the one today being enjoyed by the gentleman in the photo.

About four months ago, the bench was vandalized.  It lay crumpled on the ground, not fit for human habitation.  Soon thereafter, the whole structure disappeared.  Where the feet had been, there were now carefully laid cobblestones.

(Sigh)

Was this it, then?  The end of my sitting spot?  One less bench on the Lievekaai?

The weeks continued, and all stayed the same by the Lieve.

Today I was walking in Gent centrum with my daughter.  She’s asked me not to give her real name in these posts, and I can’t remember what I called her last time.  So today she’s “Alison”.

We meandered here and there, and eventually found ourselves on Sint-Widostraat – a short and narrow street with a sharp curve to the left halfway along.  Before the bend, I was telling Alison my sad bench story.

And then we turned …

Fifty metres away, there was a bench – in the exactly correct spot!  Thank you, Stad Gent (City of Gent).

A couple were sitting on my bench and I knew what to do.  I said hi, found out they spoke English, and told them the entire story.  Smiles came from the seated ones.

They started leaving, waving away.  Alison and I sat down.  And then the man stopped.  He asked me to pose for a photo.

He took two, neither of which I’ll ever see.  The first was me kissing the metal of the backrest.  In the second, I’m sprawled all over my beloved piece of furniture.

Hours later, I realized that writing about this today would be cool.  And I wanted a photo to accompany the story.  So I returned to the Lievekaai, to find a man perhaps loving the bench as much as I do.

Life is good

I was watching the Tour de France on TV today.  One marvelous thing is the landscape.  Today we were in the French Alps.  What you see here is part of the route – the Col de la Croix de Fer (the pass across the iron cross mountain).

It reminds me of home … actually a home of the past: the Canadian Rocky Mountains.

I worked for five summers at the Prince of Wales Hotel in those mountains, in Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta.  It was 1969-1970 and 1974-1976.  Even though I was a city kid from Toronto, I soon learned the trails. 

Starting in my second year, I guided newbie employees on day and overnight trips to turquoise lakes and alpine meadows.  It made me happy. 

I was a mountain man …

Sometimes we would scramble up a mountain.  That means we’d get to the top by plodding up steep slopes of “scree” – small, loose rocks.  No ropes, no cliffs … just a lot of breathing!

My favourite summit was Mount Lineham in Waterton.  At the summit, we had a 360° view of the surrounding mountains.

This is what I remember:

At the upper left is Cameron Lake.  Lower left is Lower Rowe Lake.  On the right are the two lakes of Upper Rowe.  My feet have touched all of these shores.  Such fine memories.

***

Gent is a world away from the Canadian wilderness

And that’s fine

I’ve had many homes

I met the love of my life last night … around four a.m., I’d guess.  She was tall and old.  She had white hair and wore a long white dress.

I asked if her name was Elise, a name I created soon after I arrived in Belgium for my future beloved.  She smiled and said “No”.  But wouldn’t tell me who she was.

The mystery one stood by my bed, quietly drinking me in.  A nod here and there.  A graceful turning of the whiteness that flowed around her.

The lovely lady was a dream of mine.  She was happy to stay close for a bit … and eventually it was time for her to drift away through my windowpane to parts unknown.

I thought the woman who reached out her hand would be middle-aged, perhaps 55.  But this beauty was more like 85, with a smile that came inside me so easily.

I retired to sleep once more, with no more dreams floating by.  And now there’s tonight.  Maybe my visitor will say hi again.

And maybe not …

(After pressing “Publish”, I’ve realized one more time that Facebook doesn’t let a vertical photo show up on the main page of the post.  So now I’ll include a horizontal one)

My apartment in Gent centrum offers me four long views.  From my guest room, I’m looking down Kalversteeg towards the onion dome of Sint-Stefanus Kerk (St. Stephen’s Church).

I wonder …

Who are the people behind all those windows?

Are they happy most of the time or are they overwhelmed by the storms of life?

How many feet have trod the cobblestones down there over the 700 years of their existence?

Where are all those dead people now?

What grace allows me to live amid such beauty?

***

No more questions

No answers

Just a smile

“Avatar: The Way of Water” came out in 2022.  I loved the first Avatar and a few years ago I tried out part two on Disney Plus.  Maybe fifteen minutes in, I said “No” and turned off the TV.  I probably said something like “It’s nowhere near as good as the first one.”

Now it’s 2026, and last night.  “What the hell.  Give ‘er another try.”  So I did.

It’s not that I was wrong on my first brief viewing.  Who knows where my mind was in the moment?

But yesterday!  The screen filled my soul.  Mom and dad now had kids: two sons and two daughters.  And they were seeking shelter with a neighbouring clan – one which knew the sea, not the forest.

The beauty flowed for three hours.  The love, the pain of not knowing what “home” is.  And the turquoise water world, full of magical creatures.  I was entranced.

I look at the “back thens” of my life, and the moments of now that keep spilling out.  Who was that guy in 1969, 1988, 2012?  Well … they were all me, but different renditions of Bruceness.  One no better than another.

It’s tempting to think that the 2026 version is the finished product, but that’s not true.  There’s more to come.

And so …

What will emerge in this body and heart

Tomorrow, on my birthday in January, and as 2030 approaches?

“It’s unknown, isn’t it?”

I’ve had a love/boredom relationship with books.  At times a favourite author would overwhelm everyone else, and absorb my soul.

Da Free John, Stephen King, Ken Wilber, Jack Kornfield, Jiddu Krishnamurti …

And then came long periods when I couldn’t care less.  About five years ago, I looked at my full bookshelves, realized that there were countless volumes that I hadn’t read, and would never read.  And so, an executive decision:

I gave them all away – at least 200

Since arriving in Belgium in 2023, an old habit has reared its lovely head: buy books.  As Walt Whitman said …

I am inconsistent, I contain multitudes

One more time, the dreaded word accumulation:

“Gradually collecting things over time”

And sadly, not a very discriminating collecting.  Bloated once more – not as bad as yesteryear … but still fat.

Four days ago, I went lean and lovely.  And the Oxfam store of used stuff was the beneficiary.  You see the result in this photo.  When I gaze upon these volumes, I feel the power of authors who align with me.  We don’t always agree, but we’re together.  Companions.  Brothers and sisters.

If you can enlarge the photo, you’ll see author names.  Philip Pullman and Cornelia Funke dominate but there are other superstars of the heart.  Plus two coiled books of song lyrics.

I smile when I see the expanse that you’re gazing upon.  Only one name is missing.  Months ago, a young man asked me “What one book would you recommend I read?”  The answer came easily: The Wise Heart by Jack Kornfield.  So I gave my copy to him for a few weeks.

Then he disappeared from my life, along with Jack’s words.  (Sigh)  But in the spirit of happy endings, Amazon is delivering The Wise Heart on Thursday.  I will slip it in among the others.

The family will be together

And I will sleep well

The World Cup finished yesterday.  Forty-eight nations battled for the title of world champion.  And the fans of forty-eight nations jumped up and down in the stands, cheering on their compatriots.

Spain won.  Actually I think all the teams won – Algeria, Cabo Verde, Mexico, Brazil, Iran … and a very big etcetera.

This morning I’m sitting in the world again.  It’s called Lloyd Coffee Eatery.  I know most of the staff members, and what country they’re from.  Et voilà:

The Women

India, Venezuela, Germany, Turkey, Italy, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Philippines, Morocco, Afghanistan, Ethiopia, Pakistan, Belgium

The Men

Algeria, Belgium, Ghana, Morocco

Isn’t that wild!?

Fifteen countries

Twenty-four human beings

***

And … twenty-four nice people

What this world of ours needs

Yesterday, in a Zoom meeting of many Evolutionary Collective members, the teacher talked of “mutual transparency” – telling the truth to each other, no hidden agendas, no fake smiles, no antagonism.

I sat and thought.  And realized …

I’ve changed

My stance a few years ago when talking to people was clear.  When something difficult arose in my brain, I’d think …

I can’t tell them that!

Often I wouldn’t apologize if I was in the wrong.  Too scary.

But it took so much energy to hide!

***

My time in the EC has contributed to an opening, an embracing of “all of it” … the comfy and the terrifying.

And so my current life includes these realities:

1.  When I forget someone’s name, I say this:

I forget your name

2.  When I don’t understand what someone has just said, I say this (most of the time):

I don’t understand what you just said

3.  When I forget to do something that I said I’d do (that is when I break my word), I say this:

I promised to do [something] and I forgot to do it.  I caused you problems.  I apologize

I also apologize if I misinterpreted what someone said, and took action based on my assumption – action that caused the other person problems.

***

And so I believe this is true …

I’m free

I was sitting in Izy Coffee this morning, talking to my friend Filip and sipping my cappuccino.

A man off in a corner looked unsteady.  A few minutes later, I glanced at him again.  He was lying on the floor.

It was easy to assume he was drunk, since yesterday was the beginning of Gentse Feesten … a ten-day celebration of music and sometimes all-night drinking.

Two police officers were walking by outside.  I got up and chased them down.  They came into Izy and roused the fellow.  So began a long conversation in Dutch.  Soon five other officers were standing nearby on the street.

Turns out that the fellow was drunk.  He bought an espresso to help him sober up.  He had been talking to Filip before I came in and came back to renew the contact.  I’ll call him “Matthias”.

Here’s what he said, approximately:

Why did someone call the cops on me?  I was just wasted

Bruce: “I’m the one who had the police talk to you.  I didn’t know if you were drunk or if you were having a big physical issue, like a heart attack.”

He looked at me wearily.

Matthias: “I just had too much to drink.”

Bruce: “Okay, but I didn’t know that.  What if you had died on the floor and I’d just sat there?”

Matthias: (grunting)

***

Filip headed home, and I invited Matthias to sit with me.  He offered to buy me a coffee or a beer and I said “No, thank you.  I don’t want anything.”  He tried again and I responded the same way.

We talked.  Turns out he is separated from his wife and dearly misses his six-year-old daughter when she’s with her mom.  Here in front of me was such loneliness, and such love for the little one.  Tears stayed in his eyes.

***

After awhile I wanted to leave

We shook hands

“Matthias”

“Bruce”

I read today about Jeanne Daman, a young teacher at a Jewish school in Brussels during World War II.  The Nazis had declared that Jewish kids could no longer go to school with other children.

Then the Nazis started “disappearing” Jewish adults, sending them to their deaths.  Jeanne realized that the school was a huge target for those who wanted to get rid of “impure” people.  So she found Belgium families willing to hide a Jewish child.

By the end of the war, Jeanne and her colleagues had protected the lives of about 2000 children – young ones who grew up to be old ones, with their own children and grandchildren.

I’m in awe of Jeanne.  And yet comparing myself to her yields no fruit.

How do I measure the contributions I make to other people during my lifetime?

Look at the colours.  I’m going to call the yellow one “neutral”.  The lifetime effect on the world is a net zero … neither positive nor negative.

Light green means a moderate positive effect.  Dark green an immense positive effect.  Orange is a moderate negative effect – more harming than nurturing.  And then there’s red.  No explanation needed.

***

I don’t have to be Jeanne

I’ll smile from within my light green

I hope you live there too