What if I had a pure day, not with respect to what comes my way, but how I react to it all?  What if I was committed to having every minute be an expression of my essence?  What if I let go of anything “extra” to how I want to be in life?

My small mind says that’s impossible, offering a host of “What if’s”.  But often the large mind is resident in my head, and stays open to the infinite.

Last night I walked across the street and sat on the terrace of Yo’s Place.  Settling in with my Maredsous beer, I began talking to a couple who moved from Wales to Ghent two years ago.  And then here comes another couple, from Quebec in Canada.

As the conversation began flowing, I said a few things but something seemed off.  The topics came fast, and centered on government and culture in the two countries.  That was okay but the words seemed wrapped in an attitude.  “I know things.  I know a lot of things.”  The man of one couple and the woman of the other looked to be competing, dancing on the edge of “I’m right.”

So tiresome.

I went silent and turned my chair slightly away from the flurry of words and towards the flow of humanity on the Oudburg.  It didn’t serve my soul to participate in this discussion, or to pretend I was involved.  I meant no ill will to the four but I needed to detach from this world of opinion.

Half-an-hour later, having spent good time feeling into the women, men and children of the street, I wondered if my “sort of” companions were thinking badly of me.  As in “He sure turned unfriendly.”  If that’s what they were thinking, I accept that.  It wasn’t true, however.  I simply needed to protect myself from a toxin.

When I felt it was time to go, I turned towards my neighbours, smiled and said that I was glad we met.  I invited them to come to a guitar concert that started in an hour further down the street.  They all smiled back and extended their hands.  We ended well.

***

I sat down in the Gregor Samsa bookshop, awaiting the arrival of the guitarist.  My friend Anouk and I talked of real things, such as how it was for her a few days ago singing solo rather than with her band.  And how it was for me to sign up yesterday for an in-person Dutch language class starting in September.  Then we wondered how life would be for each of us in ten years.  It was real.  I was home.

The electric guitarist began. His instrument pierced me … so loud! I had been to the Core techno festival armed with earplugs and in a park. Last night was in a small room with no earplugs.

At the end of the first (painful) piece, I asked him to turn the amp down a little. “It’s hurting my ears.”

He did an adjustment.

“How’s that?” > Still way too loud

And then a moment of truth …

(Shaking my head) “I’ll go.”

The performer thanked me for coming. I smiled at him. I said goodnight to Anouk and Harry, the owner of Gregor Samsa.

And truly off into the night