My granddaughter “Nicole” and I went for a walk this morning in Gent centrum.  An ancient curving street beckoned, and Nicole noticed a plant shop that she wanted to explore – Broesse.  And so we did.  I looked in every nook and cranny for my favourite house plant (Calathea Makoyana) but it remained hidden.

What we did discover was a tiny café at the back, nestled in green.  Two cappuccinos magically appeared … and so began our meanderings about the state of living.

Life was slow and soft, full of art and growing things.  It was a sanctuary from “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.

And then we parted ways with a hug.  I headed home, interrupted by a construction site.  I leaned against the fence and watched two massive earthmovers.

At one point the orange one was so unsteady with its load dropping to the left that its tires on the right lifted way off the ground … teetering against the pull of gravity.  Such power, such force, such … hardness.

And then there was the huge arm and bucket of the black one.  Load after load of rock amid soil, reaching the truck with apparent ease.  The speed, the lifting up, the pouring down.

Is this what we human beings contain – both the delicate flowers and the rigid metal?  Yielding and imposing?  The open hand and the closed fist?

I guess the answer is yes

But for me …

I lean towards Broesse

I was sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, embracing my flat white.  A family nearby were enjoying their lunch, and each other.

The young girl in pink was partially hidden from me.  Her head was down … and my knee jerk response was immediate:

She’s on her phone!

And so began spasms of despair about the state of the modern world.

Now, I get it.  Kids are often bored with adult conversation … but I still was sad.

It turns out that she was reading a book, not scrolling Instagram.

I looked way to the right.  A middle-aged couple sat at a window table.  Each person had eyes only for their phone.  Two solitudes.  The only time I saw them speak was when they got up to leave.  (Sigh)

Farther down the room sat two women in their 30’s.  Their faces and tone of voice were alive.  Their eyes met.  Happiness returned to me.

I went back to my flat white and to whatever I was writing about.

Ten minutes later, I looked up.  The two women had gone separate.  One seemed hypnotized by her tiny screen.  The other stared into space.  (Sigh again)

***

I promise you that the next time you and I sit together (if we ever do) my Samsung S25 will stay in my pocket

Sigrid Haugset is a Norwegian cyclist.  Yesterday she won Stage Three of the Tour de France Femmes … going solo for 88 kilometres and holding off some of the best riders in the world.

Takes my breath away.

I thought Sigrid was going to fall off her bike before the finish line.  She was spent.  Her smiles and hugs afterwards showed a bright and exhausted spirit.  I was enthralled.

I haven’t yet watched the podium ceremony and Sigrid’s post-race interview.  Commentators on the internet say she was marvelous there too … “charming, humble words”.

Lying in bed this morning, I decided to make up an interview for her.  Here is a woman who just won Norway’s first stage victory in the Tour de France Femmes, someone who gave everything as she lurched to the finish.  A worldwide sporting audience awaits her words …

What will she say?

***

Imagine the interviewer, microphone in hand.  Past his or her right shoulder is the camera operator.

Interviewer:  What does this victory mean to you?

Sigrid:  It’s not about me.  It’s for Norway, my family, my friends, my teammates.

I:  Could you feel them during the race?

S:  Oh yes!  Every one of those endless kilometres.  They were willing me to stay out front.

I:  You’re now the overall leader of the Tour de France, wearing the yellow jersey.  What an incredible achievement.

S:  Thank you.  But again it’s not about me.  It’s about all of us, whether we ride bikes or not.  It’s about giving yourself totally to something.  Maybe it’s music, or cheering on your kids, looking after grandma.  Just do it with all your heart.

I:  With twenty k’s to go, did you think you could hold off Lotte Kopecky?

S:  (Pause)

S:  My heart is not with your question.  I’m still with “all of us” – you, dear interviewer, included.  As the poet Mary Oliver said to every human being on the planet:

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”

You too wear the yellow jersey.  You too have an immense contribution to make.

S:  (Looks left to the camera … which contains millions of people)

S:  And so do you

I have a balcony off the living room of my apartment in Gent.  It overlooks people strolling on the Oudburg, a street full of restaurants and bars.

I’ve lived here for three-and-a-half years, and a few days ago I experienced a first … a pigeon landed on the railing.  It stayed awhile.

I was in wonder.  I love birds.  I’m happy that I just gazed at the quiet one, who knew how to find my eyes.  No grabbing the phone for a photo op.  Just staying put.

And then she or he was gone.  That’s okay.  I will continue to remember the time I was visited.  There’s a yearning for the return and a knowing that this may never be.

All is well

The major life issue I’m dealing with right now is the health of the electrical system in my apartment building.

Last night I went to bed like a normal person.  Hours later I awoke to feel a little shock in my right foot.  Not much, but there.  I’d say 3 out of 10 on the pain scale.

I was in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.  When I was awake, I started timing the bursts in my foot.  They averaged every twenty seconds.

The pain was in the exact spot of the tendon transfer surgery I had in 2003.  That’s a bad memory – seventeen weeks on crutches.  My surgeon inserted a five-centimetre screw in my heel.

And here I am today.  Is the metal conducting electricity … that somehow comes from my apartment building?

I just reread that last sentence.  Sure sounds weird.

It’s mid-morning in Lloyd Coffee Eatery.  The frequency of the jolts is less often, but they’ve accompanied me for coffee.

I don’t know what’s happening but surely the body and the emotions are intimately connected.

***

Now I’m remembering another time of the body – 2018.  With seventeen other souls, I started riding my bicycle across Canada.

I lasted four days, terrified of the semi-trailers passing close by, and lacking the necessary bike skills.

What did the body say in response?  My right hand shook uncontrollably for a week, maybe two.  (Sigh)

…

And so, dear body, you are a mystery to me

I speak for me, and perhaps I speak for you.  Wouldn’t it be nice if someone really saw our best qualities and then expressed that into the world?

Sometimes I feel invisible, that my contributions to the planet, to my neighbour, are not available to other eyes.  And yet that’s not the important thing.  Just keep contributing.

***

Tadej Pogačar and Isaac del Toro are teammates on the UAE professional cycling team.  Isaac is in the white jersey.

UAE’s Team Manager, Joxean Fernandez Matxin, shared the impact that Isaac has made on him:

There are people who don’t need to make noise to leave a mark.  They arrive with an embracing calm, a gaze that conveys peace, and a presence that makes everything seem a little easier.

They are special people.  Not because they do extraordinary things, but because they turn the everyday into something unforgettable.  They brighten gray days, inspire without even realizing it, and offer hope when it is needed most.

Their greatest virtue isn’t what they possess, but what they awaken in others: confidence, strength, smiles and the drive to keep moving forward.  They know how to listen with their hearts, lend a hand without expecting anything in return, and make the person before them feel important.

Perhaps magic doesn’t exist … or perhaps it does, and it simply wears the face of those people who make the world a better place just by being who they are.

Thank you, @isaac_deltoro_romero1 🐂 🇲🇽, for everything you are 🙏

I agree

Thank you, Isaac

This is Neytiri, a member of the Na’vi people on the moon of Pandora.  This is the world of the films Avatar and Avatar: The Way of Water.

Often Neytiri looks into the eyes of her partner Jake and says …

I see you

These are precious moments.

The Earthly human beings who land on Pandora don’t get the depth of three little words:

Of course you see me.  I’m right in front of you

Oh.  You see my clothing, the shape of my face, how old I am, what language I speak, whether I’m a man or woman …

Etcetera

It’s not eye gazing.  It’s not reading the other person.  It’s not intrusive … it’s gentle

It’s connection

A moment out of time

A blessing

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.

If Kaitlan can do that in Washington, D.C.

I can do the same in Gent, Belgium

***

No splashing

No groaning

Just getting the job done

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 …

But delightfully so

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 want to be close to everything

The whole enchilada