This scene is in the Patershol neighbourhood of Gent, a few hundred metres from my apartment.

Last night it was pleasantly warm on the street.  Fifty steps above, in my apartment, I couldn’t get the temperature below 27 Celsius (80 Fahrenheit).

Actually I could have lowered it some … if I’d opened the windows.  The tradeoff is noise vs. warmth.  We’re beginning Gentse Feesten, a giant street party that attracts about 180,000 visitors every day.  In Gent centrum, where I live, it’s sometimes an all night thing.

Oh well.

As I’ve told many people, I signed up for Belgium 18 months ago.  I wanted to change countries, to call Gent home … and here I am.  No air conditioning.  But so much beauty.

My goal for the next week is to get six hours of sleep a night.  That may be elusive.  (Smile) 

I have a tiny electric cooler that spent last night about sixty centimetres (two feet) from my nose.  I also have a “white noise” machine that cuddled close when the decibels ran rampant.  They both helped.

On I go into tonight, tomorrow night and beyond.  Walking the streets and enjoying the music in the evenings.  Loving my pillow in the wee hours.

One of my favourite places to eat breakfast is Lunchroom Martens.  It’s only steps from my apartment on the Oudburg.  My balcony is just past the far building on the left – out of sight, never far from mind.

Most of the chairs face across the cobblestones to the other side.  My body tells me not to sit there.  My chair faces the curving of the Oudburg – the morning sun on the old buildings, families slowly disappearing on the horizon.  Or coming ever closer.

The long view has long fascinated me.  My eyes lift to the far away.  There is a yearning that begins in a place larger than this single human being.  It’s mysterious.

I went searching on the Internet for the geometry of this.  The finding was elusive but here’s the best image that showed up:

Find yourself at the intersection.  Look forward to the left or right.  For me it’s far sweeter than looking up or down.

***

Both deeply here and gazing over there

Wondering what’s beyond the curve of the Earth

The Evolutionary Collective is an organization of about 150 citizens of the world.  We meet on Zoom.  For part of our time together we do a practice in pairs.  Usually I connect deeply with the person who shows up on my laptop screen.

Julie is one such person.  When we practice, the love flows between us.

We both live in Belgium.  Today was the first time we’d met.  The knock on my door was met with a smile on the other side.  My online friend was soon sitting on my couch.

Our words were easy.  Sometimes we just silently looked into each other’s eyes.  It was sweet and natural.

Here’s a second photo.  Julie’s one-year-old son Raphaël and I were in contact.  You could say we were doing the practice.  This little kid is already a teacher.  He’s opening hearts.

(Smiling some more)

It means “hat” in French.  It’s also the gesture of taking off your hat and bowing to someone who’s achieved something.  “Well done.”  “Magnificent!”

I love it when two cyclists are battling towards the finish line in the Tour de France.  Often when the loser is being interviewed, he honours the victor.

Simon Yates from England had a great chance to win yesterday’s stage.  In his way was Ecuador’s Richard Carapaz.

Just before the Col du Noyer, Yates had launched a blistering move from a chase group of some 40 riders, powering through a lead breakaway alone, only to be overhauled by another counter-attacker, Carapaz.  With his best chance of a stage in this year’s Tour de France going up in smoke when Carapaz disappeared ahead of him 1.7km from the top of the Noyer, Yates could not have been more straightforward when asked what had happened, saying simply, “I was running out of legs at the end”.

…

The one subject matter to discuss was, obviously enough, his defeat by Carapaz just a few minutes before, with Yates crossing the line 37 seconds down on the Ecuadorian star.  It was hard to imagine he had much appetite for talking after such a relatively narrow loss.

“I was jumping around in the start a lot like everybody but it was not an easy stage, crosswinds at first and a lot of jumping around, flat roads … it wasn’t easy for me to be there.  I did my best but I was running out of legs in the end.”

“Chapeau to Richie, he did a great ride so that was all I could do.”

***

The Tour de France is the summit of cycling’s mountain.  To win a stage of the Tour is a huge achievement.  And yesterday it slipped between Simon’s fingers.

Please reflect on his gracious thoughts

Chapeau, Simon!

We all deserve to hear that word

On Gent terraces, I’m surrounded by Dutch conversations.  The times I’ve visited Senegal, those conversations were in French.

Three weeks ago I was in England.  I spent time in British pubs, watching early games of Euro 2024.  Once in awhile, I’d snap to attention: “Everybody’s speaking English!”  And that’s a weird thing to say after decades of English being normal.

Back to Euro.  I watch the games on Eurosport.  I have the choice of Dutch or French.  Either way, the words wash over me.  I understand some of it.

Yesterday I watched the Tour de France.  During the Dutch broadcast, someone was being interviewed in French and a second commentator was translating into Dutch.  So disorienting!  English was nowhere to be seen.

Later an English-speaking analyst had his say.  A tiny bit of me felt relief … that finally I’d understand everything.  Mostly though, and remarkably, it seemed like just another language.  My mind spins in the memory of it.

An hour or so after, the same English speaker is interviewing Alberto Contador, a former winner of the Tour.  The conversation is in Spanish.  The young guy had effortlessly moved to yet another language.

***

My life is bigger in Europe

The next love of my life.  My future life partner.  Or perhaps there will be no tomorrow beloved.  (Sigh)

Yesterday I was heading to my Occupational Therapist to have her adjust my thumb splint.  The buses were out of whack because Gent’s huge street party – Gentse Feesten – starts in a few days.

There I was on a street corner with my also-confused Google Maps, trying to figure out what to do.  Either a woman asked me a question or I asked her.  I don’t remember.  Together we discovered a temporary bus stop.  We sat together.  We exchanged contact information.  And this afternoon we’re going for coffee.

I’d guess she’s 35.  Perfect for creating a new friendship.  Far too young for holding hands for the rest of my life.

In England I met another fine human being, this time in my age range.  But she’s deeply immersed in her community and her home.  Gent is not on her horizon.

I love my city.  I want to live here till I die.  Yes, I’ve seen movies where someone crosses oceans to be with the other.  But swimming the English Channel isn’t in the cards for me.  Actually I too crossed an ocean to be with my beloved … but she’s a city rather than a person.

***

So, to answer my question:

Maybe … maybe not

All was going well yesterday afternoon.  Tadej Pogačar was surging ahead of Jonas Vingegaard in the Tour de France.  In a couple of hours I’d be joining fellow Evolutionary Collective members on Zoom.

And then the creeping began …

My forehead becoming hotter.

My mind starting to swim.

And I was sure I was slurring my words as I talked to myself.

Not again!

Tadej was getting a little blurry on the TV.  My world was slowing and spinning gently.  There were big spaces in my head.

A battle began building: Momentary or lasting?  No problemo or major problemo?  Stay at home or head to the hospital?

“You’ve got an EC call coming soon, Bruce.  Suck it up.”  …  “You’re not a doctor.  Go find one.”  …  “Wimp!”  …  “You don’t know what’s happening.  Find someone who does.”

I did a WhatsApp video call with Carolyne, the Executive Director of the EC.  I told her I wasn’t thinking straight but I knew enough to go to Emergency.  She agreed with my decision.

Vaguely I reasoned that they might keep me overnight and that I needed to throw some stuff into my backpack.   I think for several minutes I wandered around the apartment, looking for things to take.  Slow.

***

ECG.  Blood taken.  A small irregularity in the heart rhythm but the doctor said it wasn’t significant.  The blood results were normal.

Doctor said that if it had been him, he’d have come to the hospital too.  And then some new information …

“With a blood infection, you can have “flare-ups” even weeks afterwards.”  The usual symptom culprits show up big time and then disappear in a couple of hours.

Oh.  So I’m prepared for a next time.

***

Back to my apartment.  Then onto the Evolutionary Collective Zoom call – a mere three hours late.

I was welcomed home

The Core group of the Evolutionary Collective has a retreat on Zoom this weekend – five hours on Saturday, the same on Sunday.  I am with family … from various parts of the world.

Am I still “sick”?  Well, I’m not vomiting and I don’t have a fever but the answer is “Yes”.  I am vacant in the head, heavy in the body.  The eyes keep closing, falling towards sleep. 

Our conversations online yesterday were supposedly familiar to me: about open hearts, deep connections and an evolving future.  But mostly I couldn’t follow what people were saying.  “And why are they talking so fast?”  (Except they weren’t)

I’m used to listening to Dutch conversations and grasping for meanings.  But in English?  Oh, dear body, what are you doing?

We 55 did a practice where four of us with sagging bodies were placed in the centre and the rest answered the question “What’s present?” as illness wafted through our online room.

My three friends and I were being held.  I was a lump of clay, being pressed and softened by loving hands.  It was sweet.

Another five hours approach.  My head is wavering between “I don’t want to” and “I do want to.  Plus I gave my word to be there.”

I’m wading in the waters of not knowing.  The softness around me appears to be of the body rather than the heart.  But maybe not.  What’s showing up physically may have a far broader span.

The journey beckons … again and again

I came upon a Facebook advertisement offering two familiar faces.  Sharon Salzberg and Joseph Goldstein are two of the founders of the Insight Meditation Society in Massachusetts, USA.  It’s a Buddhist meditation centre set amid fields and forests.

Joseph was one of my teachers during a long meditation retreat.  I’ve never met Sharon but I’ve read a few of her books.  They’re good people.

Sharon and Joseph are teaching an online meditation course.

Among the comments about the event, two stood out:

I bought this course a while ago and it’s totally worth it!  Loved it and will listen to the lessons again for sure

***

The fact that you charge money for something that should given freely is disgusting.  You should be ashamed

And there you have it … the full span of humanity on display.  It gives me pause.

I was watching something on TV yesterday when an advertisement came on for a video game.  The announcer encouraged us to buy it and then immerse ourselves in the game’s online community.  A carrot was dangled before our eyes …

Be remembered forever

I don’t think so.  I’ve done many good things in this lifetime but after I die, and the people who know me die, Bruce Kerr will be gone.  Some of my writings may linger … but maybe not.  This particular mind and body will be no more.

The Anglican Church’s Book of Common Prayer says it well:

We commend unto thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the soul of this our brother departed, and we commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

If only “sister” and “her” were added.

In the spirit of multiple lifetimes, I hope that some version of my essence shows up on Earth again.  But who knows?

***

Enough of this philosophizing.  The poet Mary Oliver reminds me of the moment:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Good one, Mary