The first one is Vini. What an open-hearted woman! It was so easy to roam and chat with her.
She said so many cool things … but memory is not one of my best subjects. Still … I’ll give it a shot.
I told Vini that I get very few likes or comments when I post on Facebook. I want to reach people and there’s little evidence I’m doing that. Her look said that I was thinking too small. “You’re reaching the Cosmos.”
Hours later, after Vini has left Gent to fly home to Switzerland, I think she’s right. I put my good heart into all my writings. The energy that gets spread is kind and soft. And the Cosmos is listening. So I won’t stop writing and posting.
And then there’s the topic of getting older. Vini advises me to let go of that word. As a student of the late Barbara Marx Hubbard, she suggests getting newer. Woh! Why not? To keep exploring, opening new doors, not knowing what is about to emerge. I can do that.
Vini told me a lovely story about her partner Hans, and he’s given me permission to share it.
If I have it right, his son was learning how to drive. He didn’t see the family dog dart across in front of the car. Hans’ beloved companion died. The grief was instant and huge. But even larger was his love for his son. He hugged him. He consoled the boy.
Wow.
***
We went out to dinner last night at a Turkish restaurant called Urfa. We revelled in the chicken, lamb, peppers, rice and sauces. I had two beer (one too many!) Vini ordered Dame Blanche (vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce). The portion was huge and called out for a second spoon.
And then … The delightful fellow who served us said that the second beer and the ice cream were free. Marvelous. I told him I’d be back, and I’ll keep my word.
***
I introduced Vini to lots of people I know. I’d say they all got her humanity. I loved sharing her with the citizens of Gent.
Just two days but a fine time was had. Two folks floating a few inches off the ground.
My friend arrived in Gent yesterday from Switzerland. We’ve never met.
Vini and I are members of the Evolutionary Collective, an organization devoted to people connecting spiritually. We meet on Zoom.
Yesterday at the Gent Sint-Pieters train station was the first time we hugged. It was sweet. I told her “You have legs!”. We never see them in the little Zoom rectangles.
In the spirit of you getting to know Vini, here’s how you pronounce her name: Vee-nee. Names are important.
As we walked towards my building, I said that I’d recently repainted the apartment beige. “It was time to get rid of all those bright colours!” Vini didn’t buy it … and she loved the deep orange walls of her room.
On the couch, and later at dinner in De Jacob, the talking was easy and the smiles came often. We were cozy.
There’s a wide open look in Vini’s eyes – a wonder, a possibility. She speaks from the mouth via her heart. The words pour out, unscripted.
Vini and Hans are partners. Adoration in both directions. She says they have let go of expectations, of rules laid on from the outside. And there is no “pretend” between them.
Vini says that I am being guided towards the next love of my life … a woman I haven’t met, but whom I’ve named. Elise. And the guide Vini senses is my dear wife Jody, who died in 2014.
Today there’ll be marvels to explore. We will stroll lightly on the cobbles of Gent.
Touristic. No, that’s not what I want. However, when it comes to Gent and me, I was one of those from May, 2022 to January, 2023. After that? I live here!
I love my music school … the Poel. I’ve been hoping to find some local spot nearby for a beer and a meal. The food has eluded me but several times I’ve walked into Café de Poel.
Darlene runs the place. It’s taken a few visits for her to warm up to me but now we’re there. She knows my name and that I love Westmalle Tripel.
Here’s a photo of the interior. I’d like to say that all these folks are smiling at me but I found this pic on the Internet. In the background you can see window tables. I love sitting there, watching people, buses and seagulls float by.
And the street in the background – that’s also “Poel”. It curves so wondrously. (I love curves)
It seems that it’s mostly middle-aged to old men that walk through the door, at least when I’ve been there. And English is largely an unknown quantity. So … a perfect place for me to practice my Dutch skills!
As I watch the gentlemen sipping and chatting, I sense this is a home for them. Darlene welcomes each regular and they make sure to say goodbye when it’s time to leave.
Perhaps I too will become a regular, and a year from now Dutch will flow from me in conversation. I’d like that.
I knew what I was going to write about this morning – my visit yesterday to Café de Poel in Gent. And then …
As I lay in bed, words came into my mind, very familiar ones. They’ve been arriving often over the last ten years. Two phrases.
I uttered the first in my head: Love them all. And then my mouth paused open. The next word did not come. Huh? It always comes. The following two words showed up: the world, but not the first.
My eyes tightened (fear) … and then loosened (ease). “It’s all right, Bruce,” I smiled. “The missing word will return.”
For the next many minutes, I searched for the lost: Bless … love … be … hug …
Nothing came.
And then I just sat with the not knowing. All was well.
Eventually it was shower time. As the spray dropped onto my body and soap was doing its thing, a word …
I was sitting in my living room a few nights ago thinking of my favourite singers. Springsteen, Lady Gaga, Charlotte Church …
And another – Chris de Burgh.
Sometime before I left Canada for Belgium, I gave away all my DVDs. Included was a Chris concert video: “The Road to Freedom”. I had spent hours over the years drinking in the majesty of the music and the singer. All gone.
So this week I found a few songs from that concert on YouTube. I was re-entranced. Such melodies, such lyrics, such a voice.
Then a memory … Chris singing a medley as he walked among the audience. The kindness in his face, the eye-to-eye contact with so many.
I searched some more and found a 15-minute clip that included what I was looking for – the singer strolling through the journey of standing fans. Yes!
He stopped in front of an older woman and knelt down, continuing to sing and play his guitar. Then a young man with a stiff body, sitting in his wheelchair. Chris held his hand. After conducting the audience’s singing for a few seconds, he turned towards a girl of about 12, extended his arms and sang …
And drink to the memories of what you mean to me
The audience was enthralled. And me.
“How sad that Chris has died, that I’ll never get to hear him in concert,” I told myself.
Then I bet a funny look came over my face. “I wonder.”
I Googled Mr. De Burgh. Et voilà … He’s alive and well, 75-years-old, living with Diane, his wife of 47 years.
Just a few years ago, I often had this conversation inside my head:
I don’t know about X
I should know about X!
(Feeling bad about me)
Strangely, and marvelously, those words have mostly floated away …
This morning I sat on Izy Coffee’s black couch with my friend Bart. He and his wife Larisa own the place.
Soon Bart is heading to Brazil to meet his coffee growers for the first time. The owners and managers of the plantation are women, and many of their employees are women who have troubled lives. It sounds like such a humane business. Just the types of people that I see Bart associating with.
My friend told me that his roaster is in Belgium. And I asked …
What is a roaster?
Not missing a beat, Bart started describing the coffee process from coffee tree to cup. Not a hint of judgment. AND … not a hint of judgment from me to me.
I’ve vaguely known that coffee beans grew on a bush, and I thought they looked like this hanging there:
The reality is that coffee beans start as little green berries, and they’re harvested after they turn red:
The bean is inside the berry!
Bart and I smiled a lot as we sipped his brew and talked coffee. I sat tall. The unknowns create the adventure called life.
Last week my Music Theory teacher Lore played us a music video called “Little Blue”, sung by Jacob Collier. I’d never heard of him. And that’s my loss … up until now.
I applauded at the end. So did a few others in the class. He was remarkable.
What is singing?
A beautiful voice? Sometimes.
A beautiful melody? Hopefully.
Touching lyrics? Yes.
But please … I need more. I need the singer to have passion in their voice. I need them to fill the room with their human story. And I need “us”.
Therefore Jacob Collier. At the piano, caressing the keys. A flourish of the fingers. Then standing before thousands in Lisbon, conducting their tones with a raising or lowering of the arms.
Voices together
Raised in song
It was an immense choir, filling the hall with yearning, as “Somebody to Love” unfolded.
Here’s the video. Let it wash over you. Let it touch our shared humanity. Singing as plural.
*When you click on the link, you should see an option at the top of the page: “Song/Video”. Definitely choose video. There is much to see.
**Arghh. After I published this post, I opened the link and there was no video option. I suggest that you download YouTube Music from Google Play (or the other one) and find Jacob singing “Somebody to Love” in the “Video” section. That should work. You need to see this.
What would it look like if my mind burst beyond anything it has known? I don’t know … because the looking is within the borders of my history.
I have moments of deep connection with other people, moments that I don’t remember being present when I was twenty. That feels like a bursting, but it still seems to be within the same medium.
As I swim in the waters of not knowing, perhaps a few images would help me:
Human beings walk on the ground. But some of us soar …
Dolphins breathe air into their lungs, just like we do. Their environment is the water but sometimes they want to know what the air feels like on their skin …
As we walk our streets, we don’t feel the curve of the Earth but we are creatures of this planet. It is our place to stand. But then there are astronauts, released from the bonds of the land …
And questions: What happens when we sleep? When we die? Is there a lifting beyond our bedrooms to somewhere else? Are we explorers of the unknown as we close our eyes?