I wrote a few days ago about Yvette, my friend who visited me in Gent after twelve years of being absent from each other.

Yvette has come to Belgium with three other old friends of mine … the same twelve years.  Yesterday they started an eight-day cycling trip from Bruges to Amsterdam.  They sleep and eat on a well-named barge called the Magnifique IV.

And yesterday I met up with them in the ship’s dining room, where they were having dinner with twenty-five other cyclists also staying aboard.

Hugs and smiles.  And afterwards … conversations of the heart.

I didn’t get the three guys’ permission to use their names or show their photos, so you’ll have to imagine.  Their ages are 68, 69 and 76.  So I get to be the senior in the group.

First there is “Jeremy”, a retired pilot.  He said he misses the freedom of the sky.  No doubt.  He also talked about his two sons who I believe are autistic.  They’re in their 30’s – one living in a group home and the other still with Jeremy and his wife.  The parents have endured decades of stress … and expressed decades of love.  They are heroes to me.

Then “Robert”.  A fellow who always seemed to be laughing in past years, and was doing the same last night.  A gentle soul whose son died five years ago.  We talked of me losing Jody and Robert losing his boy.  And how the pain, while still in our hearts, has mellowed over time.

And “David”.  He was one of the leaders in creating a bridge club in London, Canada … because he loved the card game and wanted others to join in the love.  Today there are over 300 members, and games most nights of the week.  Wow!  First there was nothing.  Later there was something.  Well done, David.

***

It’s my loss (and their loss) that we floated away from each other years ago.  And our gain last night … a reunion.

If all goes well, I’m returning to Toronto and London for a visit in September, 2027.  I’ll have old cycling buddies to chat with once more.

Here I am sitting in the Grand Place in Bruges.  I’m the one behind the camera.

I’ve been talking to a nice old couple.  (Hmm … perhaps younger than me!)  They’re from Groningen in the north of The Netherlands.  Their son spent time living in Canada.  >  Where?  > London.

Where I’m from.  We had a jolly conversation about Canada and Europe … and other stuff which escapes me at the moment.  It was fun.

***

Earlier I sipped my cappuccino in Izy Coffee and chatted with the barista, who’s from Glasgow, Scotland.  That was fun too … talking about life with someone at least fifty years younger than me.

I decided to tell her about my favourite book – “The Wise Heart” by Jack Kornfield.  Years ago I would never have done such a thing.  Intrusive, I thought.  Now I don’t care about that.  “You’re free to ignore everything I say.”  She smiled.

***

Next up on the bench I was renting was a family from Rome.  Here you see Michele, Alessia, Stefano. Stefania and Bruce … all Italian.

More talking about life, this time including my stay with friends in the village of Riardo – between Roma and Napoli.  Plus the ecstasy of tasting tagliatelle porchini with divine olive oil.  Oh, the taste bud memory!

I asked Stefania what she enjoys most about Stefano.  “His love of travel.”

I asked Stefano what he enjoys most about Stefania.  “Her empathy.”  Great answers.

***

Tonight will be a lovely event in my life.  I can feel it approaching.  You’ll just have to swim in the suspense overnight. 

All will be revealed

I brought a lot of coffee mugs with me across the Atlantic Ocean.  I remember sitting in Canada and saying “Yes” to some and “No” to others.

A month ago, there was another purge.  Many of the mugs no longer sang to me … and so they found their way to the Oxfam second-hand store.

What remains in my kitchen are about fifteen objects that warm my hands as they wrap around the ceramic.  I decided to use a new one every day for two weeks.

And here you see the choice of today.

I’d forgotten about it.  Not once in three-and-a-half years did I drink in the woman’s raised hand.

Then I remembered.  She had been special to me for years in Canada.  There were even certain words I said each time I’d lift her to my lips.  And now they’re gone from my mind.

***

There’s a renewal here

May this woman grace many of my mornings …

For a very long time

And may I remember the long ago words

Or watch new ones emerge

I have heroes … and no one makes me smile as much as The Dalai Lama.  I have a DVD of him, simply sitting, simply loving us … with words and beyond.  He seeps through my TV screen and into my heart.

Here is a gem of the spirit:

If we choose to live our life caring for others – our human family and fragile planet – we will have made our life meaningful.  So, when the final day comes, we will look back without regret and feel that our life on this earth has been worthwhile.

For many years, I’ve had the thought …

I could die today

No bells and whistles

No gnashing of teeth

No regrets

Just dying

I don’t want my end to be impending but I’m okay if it is.  I’ve only started touching my current dream … and I’d like to stay for awhile and see it expressed.

Singing for people while accompanying myself with a harmony line on the cello

Cool.  I don’t usually like writing in “Bold” but this time it fits.  The dream is big.

***

And if I fade away before John Lennon’s “Imagine”

Comes out of my mouth and fingers

I’ll be laughing as I exit stage left

This morning my daughter “Alison” and I met in front of my apartment before walking to AZ Sint-Lucas, the local hospital.  We were in the Geriatric Clinic for five hours … as nurses, a doctor and a psychologist explored my memory loss issues.  The verdict (still ongoing) seems to be “normal aging”.  Sounds good to me.

Before Aluson arrived, I sat on a chair facing my street – the Oudburg.  The view to my right was blocked by a big rectangular structure.  It was clear to the left.

I decided to soften my eyes and look straight ahead.  I also decided to make contact with those who came into my field of vision.

The first thing I noticed was that cyclists were too fast for this connection.  My mouth was opening to say “Goede morgen” but the rider was gone before I could get the words into the air.

Okay … time for pedestrians.  They move slower!

About twenty folks came by on foot.  Maybe eight said something in response to my greeting.  A few others just nodded.  And then three or four turned and stared.  The rest just kept on truckin’ … no response at all to my words.  (Sigh)

Not to be dismayed, I will try again soon.  The ones who were nice to me made my day.  I’d like some more of that, please.

***

What can be created on my doorstep!

I’ll keep finding out

I like this system.  Red flag means I’ll back away.  Green flag means I’ll go towards … emotionally, spiritually, sometimes physically.

I’ll start with green, because it’s funner.

1.  When parents are with their young kids, they really meet their eyes.  They smile.

2.  Someone is brave.  They say what’s in their heart.  Or they sing a song to a friend without being sure of the words.

3.  Old couples hold hands on the street, going slow together.

***

And then there’s red.  It’s usually more blatant and less powerful.

1.  A fellow at the gym bought a big bottle of water at a vending machine.  As he opened it, lots of water exploded into the air, and onto the floor.  He replaced the lid, wiped the bottle with a paper towel and walked away from the pond beneath him.

2.  A coffee shop customer yells at the server because his food hasn’t arrived yet, not noticing that she’s working alone in a nearly full restaurant.

3.  In another coffee shop, a family sits down.  The ten-year-old girl takes the opportunity to lie on the floor, doing an inside version of a snow angel movement.  The mother yells: “Get up!  You’re embarrassing us!”

***

I’m tired of witnessing red

I love witnessing green

It’s been a few days, and I’ve written about other moments in between … but I still need to say this.

I have many favourite spots in Gent.  One of them is Speeltuin Godshuishammeke, a tiny playground only a ten-minute walk from home.  And I have a bench there.

Okay, it’s clearly not mine, which was clear as I walked towards it.  A couple was occupying two of the three spaces.  I smiled and said hello as I sat down.  The man stared.  The woman smiled back.

We three sat together for 45 minutes or so.  I was fine with that.  We were in the shade on a hot day and the sun was touching the leaves above.

During the whole time, the woman scrolled audio files on her phone, spoken in a language I didn’t understand.  About every thirty seconds she’d go on to a new voice.

Most of the time, the man had another audio going on his phone.  Occasionally they’d say something to each other.  Usually though, there was just the clatter of competing computer sounds.

Years ago, I would have experienced these noises as an assault on my ears.  This time it hardly registered.  I sat there phoneless, watching kids play on the climbers and others kicking a ball around on the wee football field.  And then there was the canopy of green above me.

Eventually I got up, turned to the couple with a smile, and said goodbye.  The man stared.  The woman glanced up, said something polite, I believe, and quickly dropped her head back to the screen.

***

One flavour of life on a summer day

Here is my friend Yvette, from Delhi, Canada.  We’d been cycling buddies for years, until my dear wife Jody died in November, 2014.  The last time I saw her was at Jody’s Celebration of Life in January, 2015 … eleven-and-a-half years ago.

How did we let this happen?

There was no antagonism between us.  We just faded away from each other.  It’s sad.  I’m sad.

And there was Yvette this morning at the Gent Sint-Pieters train station.  I’d told her that I might hide on her, but she found me before I could hatch my plan.  Just as sneaky as me!

As they say, and as it was today, we picked right up from where we left off, as if it was yesterday.  Easy.  Smiles abounding.  Stories spilling out.

Nothing was amiss … except eleven years of silence.

We talked about so much.  I’ll just go to one place. 

In 2007 or so, Yvette and her partner John created a bicycle ride.  There were different distances, with 100 kilometres probably being one.  The route explored rural roads within Norfolk County in Ontario, Canada.  Rest stops with refreshments for the 500 or so riders were provided, as was a simple meal at the end of the day.  It was appropriately named The Tour de Norfolk.

And it lasted for 16 years!

Yvette shared sad stories about the demise of the tour, which included a lack of interest from some public officials.  But the sadness was outshined by a wee smile of satisfaction about what she and John created.

Something emerged from nothing

A very fine something

In the Tour’s biggest year, about 900 cyclists pedalled the roads of Norfolk County during the Tour.  There must have been a lot of repeat riders year by year,  but let’s say each time there were 300 new folks in the event.

300 x 16 = 4800 human beings

…

Such a contribution to life, Yvette and John

Congratulations

Oh … the energies of life!  From the sublime to the dancing fool.  In my better moments, I embrace them both.  All of it is within me.

What you see is the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.  He takes my breath away.  The extended arms of love reaching a city of seven million … and beyond.

Christ the Redeemer also lives in my bedroom:

The outstretched arms appear in my mind every day … and then fade away … and then return.

When my hands are wide, you are my brothers and sisters, my mom and dad, my kids.  I rest here.

My small mind insists on making frequent appearances, but that’s okay.  There’s a rhythm of expanding and contracting.

And the fine energies are not all peace and butterflies.  There’s also throwing all the body parts around in a random way.  Voilà:

The man can bless

The man can dance

Me too

You too

I don’t mean cranking the music louder.

I don’t mean speaking at a high volume … on the edge of yelling.

I don’t mean being at a football game with 50,000 other cheering fans.

Actually, I’m not sure what I mean

Point Number One:  It wasn’t my hand on the knob.  But then … whose?

Point Number Two:  It hit me last night as I watched a stunning DVD – Meatloaf performing his hits with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.  He and his partner in music Patti Russo were belting out the songs, often in face-to-face duets.  It was powerful, alive, “high volume”.

I felt myself getting bigger, arms lengthening, taking up more space on Earth.  I knew that any words coming out of my mouth would also be large, full of impact.

Point Number Three:  I’m sitting in Izy Coffee tapping away.  Even my fingers have a purpose.  And I’m taller … closer to heaven.

Plus the cappuccino sippers at nearby tables are shining.

***

Okay, Bruce.  No figuring out.  Just revel in it.

And now I’ve flown back sixty years, to an old TV commercial.  I just went to AI to stir my memory:

Madge the manicurist recommends Palmolive dishwashing liquid to a client as a way to soften her hands.  They both look down at the client’s hand immersed in a dish of green goo.

“Why, you’re soaking in it now!”

…

And so I soak