Last night, I thought of something lovely to write about today. This morning, that topic took a back seat to what is throbbing in my brain.
This Norman Rockwell painting hangs in my bedroom.
I am in the process of speaking truth to power … and power doesn’t like it. A few people are angry with me.
I don’t see the value of giving you the details. What’s important is describing the experience of doing something that has been rare in my life.
I’m scared and I’m exhausted. Okay, I can live with both of those. When I look in the mirror, I see that I’m doing what’s right.
I’m sticking to the issues (Problem > Solution). No name-calling. No ranting. Not falling into either “Poor Me” or “You idiot!” No thanks.
I think of today’s news. Kaitlan Collins, a journalist with CNN in the US, continues to ask Donald Trump tough questions. No descending to a lower level when she’s speaking to what some call the most powerful person in the world. Quiet and emphatic courage.
In our Evolutionary Collective meetings on Zoom, we’re often paired with another person to do a practice. The question that each of us answers is “What are you experiencing?”
I was with “Frank” yesterday. One of us (I can’t remember who) voiced the word “abnormal”. Usually we don’t take the other person’s words and add to them. We stay with what is alive in us at the moment. But “abnormal” was a shared experience.
There was no negative connotation … just smiles instead. It felt like we were tossing a ball back and forth. So light, such fun.
Naturally, society has its opinion about what a word means. So does the dictionary:
Actions or patterns that deviate significantly from typical social norms, cause personal distress, or result in dysfunction
Not for Frank and me.
And not for the girl in the photo. I suppose you could say that her hat is abnormal …
Over my many years, I’ve decided how I want to live … moment to moment. Often I fall short of my vision. Often I forget who I am.
I’m here to love, to serve, to be kind. And to have virtually all of my spirit available to the next human being I meet, rather than it being covered by a cloak of despair.
I need reminders.
This morning in bed I decided to write a few things down. And here I am, talking to you.
***
I see two major times in my life:
1. When things are cool
2. When things are uncool
Here are my reminders for each:
A. All Is Well
1. Open my arms wide, hug the whole world
2. Love … scatter it throughout the cosmos or aim it at a certain person
B. I’m Experiencing A Negative Emotion (e.g. Fear)
1. Go towards it
2. Open my arms wide, hug the emotion
***
And … I don’t want to do B so the emotion will disappear. (Well, part of me wants that, but not the bigger part)
I went to sleep last night with a cool idea about what to write about today. In the last stage of the Tour de France, Mathieu van der Poel was nearing the finish as a large group of cyclists was roaring up to him from behind. So exciting!
Mathieu reached the line less than a bike length ahead of the nearest pursuer – his teammate Jasper Philipsen.
Jasper raised his arm in a salute to his friend. It was a magnificent moment.
I dozed off thinking about the UCI (Union Cycliste Internationale), professional cycling’s governing body. The UCI has a history of fining riders who celebrate a teammate’s victory. “Obstructing” other riders.
I woke up this morning expecting that the UCI had fined Jasper, but they hadn’t.
The frequent rulings of obstruction dampen spontaneity. “Don’t show joy. Be a normal person” is what I hear in my head. It’s not what the world needs.
Part of me was happy that the UCI didn’t speak of the moment. That feels new. It shows progress. And … I admit that a smaller part of me wanted the UCI to keep being the villain in my mind. I’m sad that wanting the second result stills resides within me.
The good prevailed
***
As always, I wanted to select a photo to accompany my post. I searched and searched for a finish line shot that wasn’t copyrighted by someone. And I couldn’t find one. So no magnificent moment of Mathieu lurching for the line and Jasper thrusting his arm high.
Then I lowered my goal – any shot of the two cyclists would do. At first, again no luck. But soon …
An AI-generated photo of Jasper sitting on Mathieu’s lap
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.
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.
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.
(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?
“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?
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