I’ve been a Zoom host on Evolutionary Collective calls for a long time.  I’ve made a difference there.  And … I don’t want to do it anymore.  The stress is large for me – making sure the participants’ experience isn’t diminished by technical problems.

So onward to other adventures.  My last Zoomie session is on Tuesday, October 1.

On October 5 and 6, the Gravel World Championships of cycling will be in Leuven, Belgium, east of Brussels.  Take a look:

My plan had been to take the train from Gent on the 5th, see the women race, and then come back home that evening.  Easy peasy.  (I like watching women a lot more than men!)

But then …

My mind rolls.  “Leuven is another ancient Belgian city.  Why not spend a couple of days there?”  Why not, indeed?

So I’ve booked an Airbnb for three nights – Thursday, Friday and Saturday.  I’ll explore the architectural wonders and cute neighbourhoods on Friday, see the women on Saturday and the men on Sunday.

I deserve to celebrate an ending and a beginning.  Who knows what will beckon me?

Here’s a room I want to experience with my eyes.  It’s in the library of Leuven University.  I will find it on the Friday.

And there’s more.  Last night I went to a concert.  I talked to the woman sitting beside me.  She pointed me towards Matera and Lecce, both cities in Italy.  And to Greece.  Plus Slovenia.

So on I go into the rest of my life

I think two nights ago I had a dream about a DVD.  I was trying to push it into the slot of an old VHS machine.  I really shoved it in!  And no movie was forthcoming.

Last night I wandered between open and closed eyes.  I was feeling huge remorse for wrecking the VHS machine the night before.

What I don’t know is whether this was happening in a dream.  Can one dream remember a previous one?  That would be so cool.  Or was I awake?  Either way, the pain was intense.

I’ve long lived by the adage Do No Harm.  I’m been imperfect in the execution but the words are often at the front of my mind … and my actions usually follow.

I’m in the middle of a conflict with the bar downstairs about nighttime noise.  Hmm … that word.  What does it mean?

A serious disagreement about something important

Yes, that sounds right.  We’re negotiating about a solution that balances my needs with those of the business.  It’s possible that a “business/neighbour” department of the city of Gent will act as a mediator.

What’s important to me is both a solution and how we arrive at it.  No antagonism.  No attacking of character.  Rather a feeling of connection even as we negotiate through our differences.

I will not shoot somebody in the foot

And that includes me

Those words appeared in my brain an hour ago.  What mystery!  I’ve never uttered them.

Apparently it’s a common expression in the UK, meaning “different kinds of things that are usually small and unimportant”. 

Today I’ll let my words roam around several topics.  And who knows … maybe something will be important.  Or just fun.

***

I walked into Izy Coffee this morning with a new possibility.  I told the barista Arjen that I’d been watching people.  They all walk with their arms dangling at their sides.  I was tired of doing that.  At that moment, I threw my arms into the air and declared that I was going to walk like that for the rest of my life.

And then I exited the store with arms aloft, and made sure I stayed that way till I was past the corner of the next building.  Why not?  A few folks stared without smiling.  Oh well.

***

My breakfast destination was The Cobbler.  I sat facing the buffet table at the far end of the room.  Diners would often pass by with their plate of delectables.

A couple in their 50’s walked into the restaurant and sat behind me.  I guessed that they were English-speaking.  Soon the husband made his way to the buffet and then headed back towards me.

I said “Hello.”  He gave me a long smile and returned the greeting.  Connection.

Then it was the wife’s turn to make her selection.  As she was returning, I said “Hello.”  She jerked her face away from me and said something strangled.  It could have been “Hello.”  Aversion rather than connection. 

I’d rather marry him than her.

***

I’ve had a rough spot on my left cheek for over a year.  It doesn’t itch.  My doctor says it’s nothing.  When it gets really jagged, I start picking at it.  I can’t stay away.  Eventually the rough flesh gets worn away by my finger.  And the process starts again.

I seem to have a smoothness obsession.  “I want all of my face to be smooth.”  And that becomes more important than letting the red spot heal.  A strange person.

Today it’s plenty rough, and I can feel the magnetic attraction of finger to face.  But I’m not going to do it!  So there.

***

Do three things add up to “several”?

I say yes

I’m a member of an organization called the Evolutionary Collective.  There are about 150 of us, from various parts of the world.  We meet on Zoom. 

We aim to enhance the spiritual connection between people, and to contribute to evolution … from “me” to “we”.

54 souls are in the Core of the EC, a group of people who have taken on an enhanced commitment to our work.  We met yesterday.

Sometimes we focus on a single member of the Core for a short time, and Patricia Albere (the founder of the EC) shares what she sees in the person.

Yesterday it was my turn.

The essence of Patricia’s message was that she saw love in me.  It was brighter than anything else.

And I knew her words were true.  As she spoke, I heard “It’s my job” in my head.  For a second, I thought of not saying it but I knew that wouldn’t help me or anyone else.  And so …

“It’s my job”

It’s lovely to be truly seen.  For someone to get that my life is to give, to serve, to be with.  No one left out.

And just think …

There are about 7,999,990,000 folks

I haven’t met yet

One of my favourite parks in Gent is just a ten-minute walk away.  It’s mostly a playground.  There’s a bench there perfect for sitting and thinking.  I showed you a picture of it a couple of weeks ago … can’t remember what I said.

I strolled over a few days ago and placed my rear end on its accustomed spot.  And here’s what I saw:

I hope you can enlarge the photo.

As for the presence of lifeforms, there are three folks walking near the left edge and a lone cyclist just to the right of centre.  Ohh … and one pigeon.  That’s it.

I sat with sadness about there being so few flesh-and-blood beings present, even though it was a perfectly good moment in a perfectly good park.

I communed with the trees.

***

And then there was yesterday afternoon.

There was brightness beyond the sunshine.  On the left, a boy is flying high on the circular swing.  To the right of the tree, two women reflect on the events of the day.  Behind the climber, a few folks walk beside the street.  Then a family is enjoying a picnic at the table. 

Some tables remain from the neighbourhood sidewalk sale.  A boy considers whether to join a bunch of kids having fun inside the inflated castle.  You can see some of them upstairs, no doubt ready to slide down to the first floor, where huge punching bags provide a good workout for young arms.  (Not in view.  Take my word for it)

The castle sits in a playing field ideal for football and basketball.  Usually it’s humming with kids and teens.

***

And there you have it.  Both versions of Speeltuin Godshuishammeke have their appeal.

But I love the infinite variety of human beings!

Apparently 30,000 people showed up at the European Championships Road Race yesterday in Hasselt, Belgium to cheer on the women cyclists.  Make that 30,001.

I took the train to Hasselt, spent half an hour with my friend Bart in the Izy Coffee store there, and then a bus to the tininess of Overrepen.  From there it was “te voet” (on foot) through another village called Kolmont, and onto the 600-metre climb known as the Kolmontberg.

The women would be doing the climb twice and I wanted to find the viewing spot that would make me supremely happy.  I realize my perfect is unlikely to be yours … but that’s part of what makes the world go ’round.

Here’s my view:

The riders would sweep out of the far trees and zoom right towards me for half a kilometre.  In the photo, I’m not standing in the middle of the road.  It curves to my right and starts the climb. 

And then the real thing.  First the convoy of official motorcycles:

And 100 women going like a bat out of hell:

Oh, the power as they swept past me!  I decided that the moment was for my eyes, not my camera lens.  And also for my mouth …

Allez!  Bravo!  Magnifique!

The second time through, I left the cell phone in my pocket.  I watched the peleton burst out of the trees and bear down on me. 

Coming … coming … Here! … Going … going

It was a long and magnificent day, punctuated by beer and two out-of-this-world hot dogs (with mayonnaise and sauerkraut).  Yum.  All in the company of cycling fans speaking Dutch too fast for me!

As folks wandered back to their cars, I walked wearily back to the bus stop.  Then back to Bart in Izy.  After he’d closed the store, I experienced something rare for me these days – riding in a car.  Bart introduced me to the joys of Leuven and Brussels.

And then drifting towards home … blessed home

The day showed me two minutes of 100 women riding their bicycles

And so much more

I was back in the world of substitute teaching, before I became a teacher of blind children.

The school was brand new to me, as was the assignment.  I was to spend the day teaching swimming.  The trouble is … I don’t know how to swim!  I was thrown in the deep end when I was six, and blacked out.  Ever since, the smell of chlorine has struck fear in my heart.

Well at least I’d make some money.

I found myself in a library – lots of computers, not many books.  Through a big glass door I saw the school.  It was called “Wanneer Hall”.  In an homage to my current Dutch struggles, “wanneer” means “when”.  The door was locked.  No Entry.

A door on the other side of the library mentioned the school entrance.  When I opened it, there was some kind of cable car sitting above a bottomless pit.  Hmm … “bottomless pit”.  Sounds like a few of my life moments.

I’ve drawn what the cable car looked like:

To reach the school (and the swimming pool!) I had to leap out the door onto that top ledge, grab the cable, and hang on for dear life as the car descended.

My stomach was also plummeting, along with my heart.  All this to earn a few bucks.

And then …

I woke up

No more teaching

No more drowning

Thank you for being here, Gent

Just a photo … one that says it all. 

I could wax poetic about love, feeling the flow of words from my finger to the world.  Sometimes I do that.  Not today.

Let the touch of faces enter you.  Take awhile to let these two beings find their way to your heart.

…

And one more photo:

This one hangs by the entrance of my apartment.  The girl softly connects.  It’s fine that she’s pretty but there’s a universe beyond that for me.

Every day she reminds me of how I want to be with people.

And … that’s enough words

I stood this morning on the Zuivelbrug, a bridge over the Leie River.  The rain fell softly.  I saw my friend Glenn through the vertical windows of the Soup Lounge.  We often banter back and forth, and sometimes he offers me wisdom.  I gladly receive it.

He lifted his arms and then lowered them with a fluttering of his fingers.  Rain!  Meaning from a distance.

And then …

I looked over to Glenn and raised my arms with the same vibrating fingers.  Next the arms straight out to the sides, fingers still alive.  Then in to my heart.  Now way up in a V shape, yearning for the universe.  And finally a deep bow to my companion behind the glass.  Glenn smiled.

So did Yannick, my postman.  He was crossing the bridge as I was flourishing.

Perhaps I’m strange … with a touch of loveliness

When I was a teenager, I dreamed of playing Camille Saint-Saëns’ The Swan on the cello.  Today, after fifty years of absence from the instrument, I’m dreaming again.

I started with my cello teacher Lieven last September.  I have had moments of fine playing, flowing deeply into the music.  Mostly, though, it’s been a grind: out-of-tune notes, a scratchy sound on the strings.  I have despaired.  My head keeps falling down and I keep raising it again.

Yo Yo Ma is a brilliant cellist.  I will never play The Swan like him.  But that doesn’t matter.  We share something far beyond our senior citizenship.  We hear the beauty inside the melody.  Our bodies vibrate with the deep notes of the cello.  Our playing can take us into realms of the Spirit … where listeners may be touched.

I need to get that sometimes there is passion seeping out from my left hand on the fingerboard and my right on the bow.  A connection happens with the audience even if the technique is faulty.

My playing abilities will continue to improve.  May my yearning for the cello never die.  And may someone hear me play The Swan someday.

Here’s Yo Yo to inspire you …

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q&si=WrnGUu5KUBONm6al