No, that’s not me, but it soon will be … minus the guitar. 

I got a simple e-mail yesterday from the owner of Van de Moer Instruments:

Dear Bruce,

We have received the “Roland CUBE-StreetEX Speaker” you ordered.  It’s ready for you to be picked up.  See you soon!

Kind regards

Oh, my.  The beginning of a new chapter – me singing outside Eyes + More on the Langemunt in Gent, steps from my door.

After my Music Theory class today, I’m taking the bus to the store.  Dirk will show me how to adjust the dials on the amplifier, how to hold the mic, and probably a lot of etceteras.  I’m happy to be a newbie about amplified sound.

So here I am … on the edge of doing.  Dirk will ship the equipment to my home, and hopefully late this week marvelous lyrics and melodies will reach the shoppers on the Langemunt.

Yes

No longer just a dream

Stay tuned

Let’s start with the spoken word.  I listen to the vibration as people speak.  Some voices are soothing.  Some are intrusive.

Some languages bathe me in scented water.  French is one.  A musical word that fits here is legato:

“Tied together … played or sung smoothly and connectedly … flowing”

J’espère que le monde vous soignera bien

I hope the world takes good care of you

Some spoken languages jolt me.  They sound staccato:

“Detached … separated … notes that are played or sung sharply, making them short, crisp and disconnected from the notes around them”

I find Dutch this way.  It’s the major language in my home city of Gent, Belgium.

Ik hoop dat de wereld goed voor je zorgt

I hope the world takes good care of you

I know that my written words don’t give you a clear picture of the spoken words.  But the difference for me is striking.

If you look at the French sentence, a lot of the words end in vowels … soft.  In the Dutch one, the endings are mostly consonants, often hard ones such as k, p and t.

In both worlds, most of the people are nice

Still, I prefer to be lulled

Just as a peach begins as a hard, bitter fruit fastened tightly to the branch from which it hangs, so one’s sense of self takes shape in childhood and, if all goes well, matures as the years pass, growing firm and confident, holding tightly to the patterns of behavior and belief that nurture its inherent authority. 

But when one commits to a long-term monogamous relationship, or to parenting, or to spiritual practice, like the peach slowly ripening in the warm sun, this same sense of self gradually softens.  Bit by bit the mind relaxes its grip on everything that formally provided it with the illusion of security until finally one day it simply lets go of the branch and falls.

Someone wrote this.  I don’t know who.  I’m just glad it was written.

***

I know about being hard and unyielding

I know about being soft in the mouth and cool to the touch

I know something of the letting go and the falling through air

But I don’t know the big one

Taking my last breath

The sweetness on the tongue

The waving goodbye

Done

I can’t control the heat in my apartment, and there’s no air conditioning.  When I left home this morning it was 27°C.

(Sigh)

And so I am dull in the head and weak in the body.  Part of the “something going wrong” realm of life that we all know well.

What to do?  Or what not to do?  Writing this blog doesn’t take much energy, and I enjoy it … so here I am.

I planned on singing at an open mic session on Monday evening.  But the life force I could assemble was tiny.  I said no to performing and went to a movie instead.  No guilt.  Just a nod of the head acknowledging a good decision.  There was no energy in me to give the audience a fine song.

Another open mic beckons on Friday evening.  Since apparently the heat wave will last through Saturday, I won’t be there.  (Smiling)

It’s tempting to retreat from life right now.  To be in contact with nobody.  To receive life but not give any.  But no, I’m not going to do that.  I’ll write these blog posts.  I’ll find as much public air conditioning as I can find.  And I’ll wish people well.

Love them all.  Light the world

The first time I remember saying these words was at a long meditation retreat in Barre, Massachusetts, USA in 2017.  Since our time together was in silence, I said this message inside my head … to everybody in the meditation hall.

That’s what I can do right now …

Love them all.  Light the world

It’s a lot

It’s what I have to give

Even if no one notices

What does that word mean?  It seems clear … “an individual human being”.  How could a right-minded individual argue with that?

But in 1928 supposedly intelligent leaders of Canadian society did that:

The British North America Act of 1867 said that “qualified persons” could be appointed to the Senate.  The Government of Canada – and the Supreme Court of Canada –  interpreted the word “persons” to mean men only.

Emily Murphy, Nellie McClung, Henrietta Edwards, Louise McKinney and Irene Parlby challenged the decision.

They submitted a question to the Supreme Court of Canada: “Does the word ‘persons’ in Section 24 of the British North America Act include female persons?”

In April 1928, the Supreme Court of Canada ruled unanimously: No.

Women were not persons under the BNA Act.  They could not be appointed to the Senate.

It took time, but women’s rightful access to personhood was finally established.

Emily, Nellie, Henrietta, Louise and Irene became known as The Famous Five.  Sculptures of them stand in Ottawa, Canada’s capital, along with an empty chair … reserved for each and every one of us.

***

The mind boggles

1928 to almost 2028

And what of 2028 to 2128?

Bring on the future

This is André Rieu, a Dutch violinist and orchestra conductor, known for his lavish concerts featuring marvelous soloists – singers and players.

André shines.  And he’s had his share of both tough times and standing ovations.

I think of the words of Myokei Caine-Barrett, Shonin, a Buddhist master:

A sword is not made by being praised.  A sword is made by being hammered, heated, and plunged into cold water and hammered again.  The purpose of the hammering is not to destroy the metal.  It is to make the metal into a sword.  The purpose of a vow is to make us into a bodhisattva, and the bodhisattva is not one who has escaped suffering but someone who has learned to use suffering as nature.

André’s sword is his violin, and his smile, and his orchestration of inspiring concerts.  All have been accompanied by moments of ill health – a despair that touches us all.

You may ask about the meaning of bodhisattva … 

“It is the Sanskrit word for a being who is devoted to awakening and to acting for the benefit of all that lives.”  (Jack Kornfield)

André has benefited countless numbers of human beings, with his music and his soul.

And what of awakening?

“An awakening is a sudden, profound shift in awareness.  It most commonly refers to the expansion of consciousness.”  (AI)

***

Look at those eyes

Alive, piercing, encompassing

Eyes that touch others in the audience …

Play on, André

It’s one of my two favourite words.  The other is “love”.

But I’m not talking about cartoons.  Here are some words that my phone points to:

Enthusiasm, energy, oomph, warmth, vigour, life, spirit

“Animal and animate … Those latter terms derive from the Latin anima, a distinct term that means “soul” or “breath” and that suggests someone’s physical vitality or life force – the breath of life.”

And so … may we breathe life into our moments.  May our experiences and the people in them glow.  Shining within, shining without.

Speaking of which, there is my home city of Gent, Belgium.  Every night in the centrum, lights attached to the buildings come on at sunset and disappear at midnight.  Voilà:

And voilà again:

These scenes are a fifteen-minute walk from my apartment

I am blessed

The world is alive

Dirk is my marvelous neighbour.  He celebrated his 70th birthday last night with a grand party in his apartment.

Luc is Dirk’s friend and was there to cheer the host on.

For me the evening was about them.

Here’s Dirk opening his presents, waxing poetic about whomever and whatever came his way:

Dirk has a flair for the dramatic, partially due to his years of directing plays.  He also has a huge heart of kindness.  One expression of that was his generous offering of cava, wine, pancakes, melting white chocolate, frites … and mayonnaise!

And then there was my sitting companion Luc.  He told me he was a cartoonist, going by the name O-sekoer.  As Luc showed me some of his work on the phone, my eyes grew.  Brilliant … passionate … courageous.

He scattered my brain cells.  And they’re still barely holding together.

Here’s Jesus:

Immense contrast.  Shocking.

And then there’s a gruesome similarity:

Luc was teaching me.  I looked around Dirk’s living room at the faces loving him.  And then my eyes settled on an object …

Within the cage … yearning for freedom

***

Thank you, Luc

Thank you, Dirk

We arranged to meet today for lunch at IKEA.  It’s been months since our last time in the same room.  And it was an easy coming together.

A woman in her 30’s, a boy almost 3, a man 77.  No generational divide here.  I was proud of my ability to slobber soft ice cream on my face, matching Raphaël lick for lick.

I watched Julie’s love for her son.  It poured out of her … in words, in glances, in touches.  And the young boy soaked it in.  Oh so close to mom.

Julie and I talked about this and that.  Really the topics didn’t matter.  Our reunion did.  A quietness along with laughter, a melting as the words floated away.

I promised myself on the tram to IKEA that I would sing Julie a song.  I had the thought “But where will I do that in a busy store?”  No matter.  Our table in the cafeteria did nicely.  Oh … and the song was “It’s About Time” by John Denver.  Julie liked it.

After lunch we ventured into the bowels of the superstore, in search of a wooden rack for Julie’s husband Bart’s ceramic creations.  And we found it – a team effort.

At one point, when Raphaël and Julie were doing something else, I gazed up at the image on a wall …

I know the idea was to sell a table and chair set but the woman’s peace reminded me of mine.

***

The three of us

Ordinary and lovely

Blessed

First of all, I forgot to send you the selfie that Elwin took of us in Leiden, so here it is:

Moments of companionship linger in the soul

***

My friend Kobe and I went to dinner last night at Dish, a fine restaurant that is sadly closing in two days.  My friend Florian arrived yesterday.  He will be staying with me for two weeks, using my apartment as a base as he studies for his exams.

The three of us sat in my living room last night, talking about life.  At one point, one of them said something that inspired me.  Who?  What?  I can’t remember … a common theme for me recently.

I grabbed my phone, pretended to dial whomever we were talking about, and proceeded to have a two-minute conversation with the mystery human.  I also don’t remember what I said, but the two of us had a fine back-and-forth time.

Afterwards Kobe said “Why aren’t you an actor?  Why don’t stand before us at an open mic session and perform a skit solo?”  Or words to that effect.

In the words of the immortal philosopher Lore Nachtergaele, “Why not?”

Something fresh, bubbling out of the mouth, with an unknown destination, loosey-goosey …

or

Audition to act in a play.  It would have to be in English, of course, but I imagine such plays are produced in Belgium.

And then the question becomes whether it’s this:

That would be a good idea

Maybe someday

Or this:

I will act in a play that will start its run sometime in 2027

***

Hmm … quite the difference