It’s closing in on midnight and I’d love to tell you about our day.  My eyes, however, are slowly sinking in the west.

I could launch into “We did this and this and this … and that” but it would be boring.  Tiny uninspired paragraphs.

No, I’ll focus on one happening.

I was surprised that yesterday Jagger said he wanted to go into a church.  Today was the day.

St. Bavo’s Cathedral is huge and echoey.  We walked in.  An airport-like stretch of straps and stands prevented us from exploring the sanctuary.  There was a Mass going on, and the pews were two-thirds full.

After a few minutes of onlooking, I asked a volunteer if we could sit down among the faithful.  He smiled and said yes.

This was my view:

The vaulted ceiling, the soft light through the windows, the statues imbued with grace … all was here.

The Bible readings flowed in Dutch, as did the words of the head priest.  Then he began to sing, interspersed with we the congregation responding in song.  His baritone voice carried me away.  His presence reached the nooks and crannies of the church.  I was taken.

In front of me sat a family of seven – mom, dad, three young girls and two young boys.  I stared.  There were soft moments of eye contact mom/daughter, dad/daughter and sister/sister.  One would touch another and the second would respond in kind.

One redheaded girl sat nestled into her dad’s chest.  You can just see a bit of her hair.  She often had her hand resting on his back.  I sat loving them all.

As the service ended, the priests and assistants walked slowly down the middle aisle.  The head priest made eye contact with nearby parishioners, accompanied by many smiles.

The family was standing to leave.  I paused beside mom and said …

I love to see the love in your family

Her eyes glistened and she put a hand on my shoulder

All was right with the world

Jagger got up yesterday in Western Canada at 4:00 am his time to catch a plane.

I got up today in Belgium at 4:30 am my time to catch a bus and a train.

We’ve spent the last hour (7:30 till 8:30 pm my time) … sleeping.

In between the adventure has begun.

I made it to the Arrivals gate at Brussels Airport by 7:40 am, just as Jagger’s plane was touching down. 

As he was going through Customs and gathering his luggage, I watched the flow of humanity passing before me.  All shapes, sizes, cultures, races, ages, energy levels and personalities of human beings.  Some alone and some together, some adored by loved ones and some invisible.

One tiny boy carried by papa saw the waiting eyes of grandma and fell into her arms.  There was a connection between the two that began ten metres away.

Minutes later, a young man of 20, who lives near the foot of the Rocky Mountains, was hauling his green suitcase towards me.

We hugged.  We smiled.  We remembered past good times.  It’s been nearly two years.

Jagger was quiet as old Brussels and then the emerald fields of rural Belgium unwound before us from the train.  And then some stunning architecture from the bus in Gent.

The morning bustle of walkers, cyclists and delivery trucks greeted us on the cobblestones of my street – the Oudburg. 

I wondered what my young friend was thinking.  This was all new to him.

But first things first: Jagger falling asleep in my guest bedroom and me working on Dutch for an hour-and-a-half.

Today we wandered the streets.  We sipped the beer.  We perched ourselves near the top of the Belfort (a medieval tower completed in 1380) listening to the carillon music coming through the ceiling and gazing out at the magnificence of the city.

And then Juicy Lucy burgers at ‘t Koningshuis, only steps from my apartment.

***

(Sigh)

Now even my fingers are tired.  And so …

Goodnight

Tomorrow morning at 7:45, I greet my nephew Jagger at Brussels Airport.  He’ll have three weeks to explore a continent he’s never met.  I hope his head will keep spinning with a barrage of new.

He’s 20.  I’m 75.  And we’ll see wonders that will make both of us smile.  Such as in Barcelona, where for three days the architecture will be a jolt for four eyes.

I remember loving a movie called “If It’s Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium”, where folks on a bus tour of Europe were thrown from one tourist attraction to the next.  No thanks.  Jagger and I will visit the Gravensteen castle in Gent centrum and we’ll amble here and there amid the cobblestones of my home.

I’m proud of Jagger – leaving what he knows for the unknowns of Europe, spending six days by himself in Italy, the rest with some uncle guy.

I hope we get to see KAA Gent play football in Ghelamco Arena on May 25, if that works with his travel plans back from Italy.   I hope my young friend Medhi will invite Jagger to play basketball with him and other guys. 

I want our spirit together to be big. 

I read today about Tadej Pogačar, one of the best male cyclists in the world.  Right now he’s riding in the Giro d’Italia, a three-week bicycle race.  One commentator said “Pogačar, it seems, never operates on battery-saving mode.”

That’s you and me, Jagger!

All in

Going for it

Happy in the world

I was in a Zoom retreat with the Evolutionary Collective this weekend.  There were 56 of us from around the world.

We see ourselves as an example of consciousness evolving on the planet, without flaring egos getting in the way.  We’re committed to connect with each other spiritually.

Our time last night ended with a 45-minute practice.  Years ago we met in person.  Imagine six or eight folks sitting in a circle.  The host guides the participants in the silent exercise.  One person is focused on, everyone looking softly into their eyes.  The recipient looks at the second one for 40 seconds, at the third for the next 40, and so on … Then on to the next focus person.  Each one has a time for being the centre of attention.

The experience is a blessing for me – really seeing the divinity of each human being, their shining particularity.  The host plays a series of soft tunes that amplify the closeness.  Together we create a sacred space.

We’re all so different from each other, and deeply the same – in our yearning for true connection.

Last night we “pinned” each other on Zoom so that in each moment one person filled our screen.  Not like being in the same room but just as wondrous.  There were seven online circles of blessed beings.

When it was over, we said …

Good afternoon (3:00 pm on the North American west coast)

Good evening (6:00 pm on the North American east coast)

Goodnight (Midnight in Central Europe)

Good stuff happens to us.  Bad stuff happens to us.  I can tell the bad stuff to go away but that hasn’t worked out very well.  So what to do?

I woke up this morning scared, and with less sleep than usual.  That’s what’s so.  I don’t feel the need to share the details.

In the last year or so, I’ve enjoyed the distinction between “this” and “that”.  I call what’s happening right now “this”.  What’s not current is “that”.

So this morning I let “this” wash over me.  It included some negative thoughts and experiences.  At one point, I got that I was using my contemplation of “this” as a method to have it float away.  That’s not the spirit of “this”!

And now …

The fear is less.  And it lingers.

The eyes want to close.  I’m pretty tired.

***

These two are visitors

“Would you like a coffee?”

“Stay as long as you like”

Does it “sing”?  For years I’ve asked myself that question about what I’m thinking of doing or where I’m thinking of going.  Does it vibrate my soul?  Get the juices flowing?

I sat down half-an-hour ago, wondering what to write.  The moments of last night sung … literally.  But my response just now was “No, not that.  Find something else to write about.”

Except that choosing some other topic today wouldn’t be real.  I’m drawn to tell you about singing at an open mic session yesterday.

So, Bruce, what was true about your singing last night?

1.  I sang the song “Angel”, written by Sarah McLaughlan.

2. I had never sung it in public before.

3.  I remembered all the words.

4.  I sang in tune, and in a vocal range that let me reach the low notes easily.

5.  I let my eyes wander to the eyes in the crowd.

6.  I didn’t think.

7.  Passion came from my mouth and heart.

8.  I “filled the room”, bringing the song to the far corners.

9.  Some people closed their eyes as I sung.

10.  Several people thanked me after I finished.  A couple said I had a lovely voice.

***

No conclusions from all this.  No “and therefore …”

Simply an evening in my life where I connected with other human beings.  And I’m smiling the day after.

It has so many levels

The rooves bend

There are wee windows peering out, under gables

The walls tilt a bit

There’s a smokestack at the top, letting out the gases

Some rooms hang above the water

Steps wind up to above and fall down to below

So many doors!  Some of them are open

There’s a cozy balcony for looking out to sea

One little room is near the water’s edge

***

My castle has all sorts of shapes and juttings

It’s unique in the world

I went searching on the Internet for a photo of someone standing relaxed and symmetrical.  After thirty minutes, I found only two.  Here’s one of them:

The body faces straight forward, the arms dangle, the hands are open, a bit of space between the feet.

How do people usually stand?  Here are some possibilities:

Hands in pockets, legs splayed and arms tight behind the back, arms crossed and one hip forward, hands wide and ankles crossed.

And, with more oomph …

Hands on hips, right arm out and left one back, hips thrust and arms behind the head, one shoulder forward and legs crossed, legs wide and feet pointed inwards, one arm up and one knee forward.  The possibilities are endless.

Then there’s standing in relationship:

***

Voilà!

Behold the infinite variety of us

Once upon a time, the population of the Earth was 6,000,000,000.  I decided to take a large glass jar and fill it with tiny specks of “something” – six billion bits.  And then I would sit there and reflect on all of us.

I found bags of itsy bitsy seeds in a bulk food store.  I filled a tiny cup with them, counting all the while.  Then I kept pouring cups into the jar.  When it was full, I did the math.  In front of me sat about 300,000 seeds, also known as human beings.

Now I realize that I was meditating on the population of Gent, a city that was beyond my consciousness back then.

***

Now there are eight billion of us.  Most of them I’ve never met.  And I wonder about them.

Eight billion minds – holding on to the old and maybe reaching towards the new

Eight billion hearts – keeping the body going and embracing the beloveds

Sixteen billion hands – completing the tasks of the day … and holding other hands

Sixteen billion eyes – taking in both the pain and the wonders of the world

Sixteen billion feet – exploring the highways and byways, urging us to see what’s over there

***

I need a really big jar