About a week ago, I wrote about the American singer Janis Joplin belting out “Ball and Chain” at the Monterey Pop Festival in the 60’s.  I included the video.

Yesterday my friend Lyrinda responded:

She burned hot and true and unfiltered.  Such raw emotion laid out not only in words but in her voice in its full range of sound.  Her little skip at the end when she left the stage was a touch of the innocent child still there despite the ball and chain of the song.

And my reply:

Yes, Lyrinda.  The skip!  I can do that too.  In fact, I will … down the Langemunt tomorrow.  I promise.

Oops.  Tomorrow is now today.

I’ve been sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, at one end of the Langemunt.  Two hundred metres away is Izy Coffee.  I’ve visualized a round trip.

An hour ago I was in the midst of being reasonable … and scared.  Last Friday I had a second Cortisone injection in my right knee.  The cartilage has largely worn away, and my knee wants me to get the message.

What if your skipping creates permanent damage?

If you do this today, you may not be able to walk unassisted in two years

Be careful, Bruce.  Life is about being careful

What will people think?

They’ll see you as emotionally disturbed

And so I quivered at Table 140 in Lloyd’s.

I decided to practice … a bit.  There was no one sitting in the back end of the restaurant.  I’ll give it a try (with my head peering over my shoulder).

I did three skipping steps, but they weren’t.

I’ve forgotten how to skip!

(Sigh)  Trying again.  Now maybe six steps … and they were skipping.

Get up from the table and do the darned thing!

I rose.

I walked over to a nearby table.  The couple spoke English.  I told them my story.  They agreed to cheer me on through the glass door that would show a senior skipper on the street.

Now the Langemunt, my feet centered on the depths of the Earth.  I looked back inside.  Smiles and thumbs up.

I began

Poetry in motion it was not … but it was motion.

My head was pretty much down, as I concentrated on not splatting myself on the pavement.  So I didn’t see people’s reactions.

I was pooped fifty metres later, by the entrance to Eyes + More optician.  I told my story to Aude and Pieter-Jan.  They added to the cheers.  And off I continued.

Two or three more breathing stops before I reached Izy, buoyed by the well wishes of three teens along the way.

Inside, Léa and Michelle revved me up for the return trip.

Two hundred slow metres later, I skipped into Lloyd’s.

Very tired.  Very happy.  Very proud

***

There you go, Lyrinda

Piece of cake

May 5, 2026 was a big day on this planet of ours: Sébastien Gabriel showed up.  Mom and dad Cara and Simon are “tickled pink”.  (I love those words)

Yesterday was Sébastien’s baby shower in Waregem.  I got to go!  And it was the first one in my life.

Over a hundred of us revelled in the presence of the young one, held tenderly by dad.  And featured in photos on the screen.

The people I knew (Cara, Simon and Petra – Cara’s mom) were busy greeting each newcomer to the party.  So I just sat on a chair and scanned the crowd, loving people I’ve never met.  I knew that all the conversations would be in Dutch, and I’d be lost.  So I simply watched people.

Later Cara’s dad Pascal and her sister Tessi arrived, and I had nice talks with them and Petra.  Plus a few words here and there with Cara, the very busy new mom.

I asked Pascal about his life, and his eyes brightened with the word “padel”.  It’s a combination of tennis and squash, played on a glass-enclosed court.   Pascal loves the sport and it was so cool to hear that in his voice.  May all of us love some activity deeply (and the people in our lives).

Pascal gave up tennis in his 20’s because of knee problems and has discovered padel in his 50’s.  The knees can handle it.  Oh … it’s a feel good story.

Tessi has returned from several months of studying in Sweden.  Two things stood out in her words:

1.  The emotional challenge of having almost 24 hours of darkness in the winter

2.  Her growing empathy with people living in Belgium who don’t speak much Dutch (like me) after her struggles with not knowing Swedish

And then there’s Petra.  The revelation of being a grandmother – life changing.  Not a transition but a jolt.  Eyes opening to the beauty of a new human life who is a deep part of you.

More news: Petra and Tessi intend to run the Gent Marathon next spring … all 42 kilometres.  Go for it, my friends!

***

Cara came by with a book for guests to comment about Sébastien.  Here’s what I wrote:

Enough said

Welcome, Sébastien

I’ve always enjoyed Clint Eastwood’s acting, especially as the tough guy in American Western movies such as “Unforgiven”.

One of my favourite action heroes is now 96.  I’m a “spring chicken” in comparison.  But the body is already sending signs that my best physical days are in the past.

What does Clint have to say about rolling towards death?

The aging process is a formidable challenge, isn’t it?  You remain present, observing the world with your own eyes.  However, your physical agility has diminished, your vision tires easily, and your respiratory system labors to find breath.  The most daunting and exhausting aspect, however, is approaching 100 and lacking someone to share your life stories with, filled with nostalgic reflections.  You’re aware they may not be genuinely interested, but you still derive satisfaction from recounting those memories.  Like a grandfather imparting wisdom to his grandchildren.

I tell stories.  I especially enjoy the face-to-face ones, and I risk bothering my friends with the same tale over and over again.  But they’re kind to me, and they listen one more time.

And then there’s you … whoever and wherever you are.  You listen to my verbal meanderings, at least some of them.  So I keep writing.

Thank you for being here

Kindness often shows up when we are with each other.  An apple is a simple thing but look at the glow in the eyes that it creates.

But what about when we’re not together physically?  What power do we have to touch other souls from a distance?

I wonder.

At one of the Buddhist retreats I attended, a teacher told us that every minute of every day, someone in the world is saying a version of these words:

May you be free from danger

May you be happy

May you be healthy

May you live with ease

The “you” spoken to may be an individual person but I feel in my heart that it includes all of us.  So someone somewhere is blessing my life right now.  Not knowing the individual called Bruce … but knowing deeply that my joys and sorrows flow through all of mankind.

And so I receive.  But it’s not a one-way street.  I give.  I give when I’m out there in the world, whether or not other eyes meet mine.  And I give right now, alone in my living room.  I give to all the “you’s” that surround me on Earth … in this instant.  Before I proofread my words and eventually press “Publish”.

***

We are powerful … for good or ill

Let’s make it for good

The Barack Obama Presidential Center in Chicago began with a dedication ceremony on Thursday, June 18.  Former presidents and marvelous musicians joined the celebration.

I read a post on Facebook this morning, praising Barack and Michelle and the loving vibe that lived throughout the evening.

Then I read many of the glowing comments.

And I thought …

What if these words weren’t directed to Barack

But instead were about … you?

I hope there are a lot of “you’s” sitting out there in cyberland, reading my stuff.  But even if there are just a few of you, I bet the variety of human beings would fill a rainbow.

So whoever you are, whatever you’re like as a person, imagine that someone is saying these things about the woman or man within your body.

I’ll use (_____) when Barack or Michelle’s name is used.  Fill in the blank!  And please don’t go to thoughts such as “I’m not a public speaker.”

***

From the beginning to the end I was teary eyed.  (_____)’s speech brought me to tears.

I kept thinking about my favorite Christmas movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life”, and how beloved (_____) is. In a world of Mr. Potters, be a George Bailey.  “The richest man in town.”

“Today we saw our better side.”  Yes, we did.  And I cried because I’ve missed it so much.  I’m grateful to (_____) for reminding me who we can be.

(_____) are two lovely people – gifted orators, personable, gracious, dignified and exuding decency.

Empathy is a superpower.

As always (_____) does it with grace.

Our most respected and beloved role model

No one was more deserving of this honor than (_____).

So refreshing to hear love & kindness being spoken.

(_____) didn’t tear it down.  (_____) didn’t try to break it.  (_____) built it so it would be stronger.  (_____) left it better than what it was …

It’s a tribute to (_____) how much people like and respect them. 

It’s kindness and empathy and acceptance and high standards for those in high positions, and class and setting a good example.

An articulate, caring, humble leader who cared about us all

***

So well said

All of you

About all of you

Here they are …

(By the way, the upwards arrow that appears twice is a reminder to pick a starting note that’s higher than the one I’m thinking of using, so I’ll be able to hit low notes later)

And here I am …

I’m sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, awaiting my Morning Club breakfast.  Two hours from now, my mouth will be open in song about fifty metres from here – in front of Eyes + More optician.

Breathe, Bruce, breathe

It helps when you sing

For months a choice has roamed around in my head.  Focus on performing some activity well or focus on loving the people who are witnessing the activity.

The cultural pull is for excellence but there’s something else at work in me.

Love them all.  Light the world

Six words that have been alive for years.

However, my mind has the capacity to be tricky:

If you love them, you’ll be relaxed

And then you’ll sing well!

Silly mind.

At 11:00 am, how about if I just beam love?  I may forget words, or be out of tune.  If that happens, how about if “So what?” comes in response?  Not a peace to achieve something.  Just peace.

That’s enough for now.  I’ll talk to you again after I sing.

***

As they say …

The best laid plans of mice and men

I had my moments of loving the passersby – many in fact.  Most often, though, it was the beauty of the lyrics I was feeling.  Such as …

The days they pass so quickly now
Nights are seldom long
Time around me whispers when it’s cold
The changes somehow frighten me
But still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growing old

Not such a bad thing to be loving the words.

Virtually no one glanced at me as they strolled or hurried along.  One woman smiled and gave me a thumbs up … and kept going.  A friend of mine stopped to smile and listen.  No one else paused their day.

A woman came close, pointed to my sign, and started speaking in Dutch.  I didn’t understand.  And I lost the lyrics.  Thirty seconds or so later they returned.

My sign:

I don’t want any money.  Thank you

One man put his face close to mine and almost yelled, flailing his arms down the street.  I think he spoke Turkish and I know he wanted me to leave.  Once more the words of the song disappeared, and once more they reappeared in my mind after a short lapse.

***

My love for the passing shoppers was sporadic but I’d say I sang ten lovely songs … well.  And now my smile lingers

On to the next performance

Janis Joplin was an American singer who “rocked the house” with her raspy voice, soaring lyrics and bouncing legs.  She threw herself into life … and died of a heroine overdose at 27.

Janis was “out there” – such a cool expression.  And that’s it.  To express, any way you want to.  Just put lots of oxygen into the air!  (Carbon dioxide, actually)  Put yourself way out into the world.

The venue is the Monterey Pop Festival in California.

The year is 1967.

The song is “Ball and Chain”.

And the singer!

Here’s a few comments about that concert:

She wore a loose blouse and stacks of bracelets that clattered when she moved. Her voice carried the grain of Southern blues singers she had studied – artists like Bessie Smith and Big Mama Thornton.

…

The band laid down a heavy, dragging rhythm.  Joplin leaned into the microphone and began almost quietly, drawing out the opening lines.  Her phrasing bent around the beat, stretching words until the notes sounded less like singing and more like a raw release of pressure.

Then the volume climbed.

Her voice cracked, climbed higher, and pushed against the band’s amplifiers.  The performance built in waves – each chorus louder than the last.  She crouched low, gripping the microphone stand, then threw her head back and pushed the final notes into a long, unsteady wail.

The crowd stopped moving.

…

The band finished the song.

For a moment, there was a pause.

Then the audience erupted.

Here’s “Ball and Chain”.  I’m fine whether you love or hate Janis’ performance.

Either way …

I expect your mouth will drop open

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=X1zFnyEe3nE&si=tiQAtg3rimnz33rq

This is the view of the Leie River from the Zuivelbrug … a bridge that’s fifty metres from my apartment.  A blessing.

I don’t know if you can enlarge the photo on your device but way down there is another bridge – the Krommewal.  And there’s nobody on it.

I have a ritual.  Dare I call it a fetish?  I look out at an empty scene and imagine it full of the life that I know lives in the neighbourhood.

Gent is full of people who enjoy being outside – sitting on terraces, strolling with their loved ones, zooming along on a bicycle.  I love seeing all these folks!

I wait on the Zuivelbrug until life crosses the far bridge.  Et voilà:

Okay, too small for some of you, I guess, but now there’s a cyclist crossing the Krommewal left to right.  Oh … it makes me happy!

I can hear some of you saying “This guy is easily pleased.”  (Smiling)  Oh well.  As my dear wife Jody used to say “Oh my husband and his idiotsyncrasies.”

In the spirit of continuing this questionable discussion, almost every morning I stop on the Zuivelbrug seeking … birds.  I look at the Leie to the left and stay looking until I see a bird – either flying or sitting.  Thus accomplished, I look down the Leie to the right and stay put until a flying thing appears.  Years ago I lived in an area that had hardly any birds.  So Gent is a Godsend.

***

I’m pleased with my moments of weirdness

AI tells me that “weird” means something highly strange, unusual or unexpected, often with an eerie or supernatural quality

I’ll take it

My heart says that expression wins the day every time.  My mind says you need to figure out which hand position to use for each note.

My cello teacher Lieven says “Stop thinking”, and at some level of practice and proficiency he’s right.

But here I am with a piece called “Ballade”.  I’ve had the sheet music for three weeks so the music is still new.

The sweet expression of tone and vibration and bow is a world away (though Lieven would say I’m exaggerating).

Now it feels like “grunt work”.  I know four hand positions on the neck of the cello, plus two slight variations.  Lots of thinking as I attack a new piece.  (Hmm … “attack” feels a mite aggressive)

I start my analysis with an erasable red pen.  A circled number means a position.  An uncircled one tells me which finger of the left hand to use.  Here’s what it looks like:

The black marks are the fingerings that Lieven suggests.  But some numbers (such as 1 and 4) look different in Dutch, and I get confused by what seems to be a simple variation.

Anyway, last week I showed Lieven my first red pen effort, and he suggested a different position and fingering at certain points.  I love erasable pens!

I’ve spent the last hour in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, sipping my flat white and copying the red stuff onto a fresh copy of “Ballade” …

I can see black marks more easily than the red ones, hence the change.  On the first line, you see “1” with a backwards pointing arrow.  That means I extend my first finger back from its usual position.  And I blotted out all those Dutch versions of numbers that wilt my brain. 

Tomorrow is my cello lesson.  My brain has figured things out.  My fingers may or may not follow suit.

And the creative expression, the swaying of the body as the bow flows, feeling the music …

Will have to wait a few days or weeks longer

Let’s make it days

The Buddha was a smart guy.  He knew all about the foaming seas of life, and the sharks that loom underneath.  Plus he knew something else …

It’s possible to be “chill” amid it all

He talked about equanimity, which the dictionary simply calls “a calm mental state”.

Margaret Cullen was writing in Tricycle magazine about this, and her words reached me this morning:

In Buddhist teachings, a metaphor that is often used for equanimity is grandmotherly love.  Whether it is seeing with a grandmother’s eyes or relating through a grandmother’s heart, the grandmother is able to love fully without being caught in the dramas of her grandchildren’s lives.  She doesn’t take things personally and sees all children as deserving of love and care.  She has seen through the trappings of identity and power and has the wisdom of perspective.  A grandmother’s eyes are quiet eyes: They neither seek to possess nor disown.  The grandmother’s gaze epitomizes unconditional goodwill. 

Well said, Margaret.

Another cool idea that came from the mind of the Buddha is that virtuous qualities have”near enemies”.  They masquerade as the real thing.  Compassion is great.  Pity is not.

Margaret again:

The most significant near enemies of equanimity are indifference, detachment, apathy and passivity.

***

Sometimes bad stuff happens

Sometimes the results you and I create are lovely

And often not

It’s okay

We’ll just keep loving each other