I have many paintings and photographs in my home.  Some of the faces look out from the canvas straight into my eyes.  Such as …

Ninety degrees.  From the owl to me

Here is a painting by Norman Rockwell that has resided in my Canadian and Belgian homes:

Do Unto Others

As You Would Have Them Do Unto You

So lovely … so powerful.  But up until yesterday that power has been blunted.

In Canada I hung this work of the Spirit in a closet!  I walked in there to get something, but never to linger.

In Belgium I hung it in my bedroom, but too far from my meditation chair to really see the faces.  So I only glanced occasionally as I passed by.

More recently I replaced “Do Unto” with another painting and put Rockwell’s masterpiece in the white hearth of what used to be a fireplace.  It was beside my meditation chair but at too severe an angle to see anything.  I would have had to get down on hands-and-knees to see all the human beings present.  And I never did that.

Now to yesterday …

These faces need a home, somewhere to be loved

I needed a space.  On my bathroom wall stood a tiny painting of dolphins and waves.  I put it behind the sink, just below the mirror.

From the hearth to the bathroom came “Do Unto”.  A brown mat and black frame against a green wall.  Plus the glory of the image.  Perfect.

Ninety degrees.  From me to the people

And so the message lives

Right before my eyes

My friend Noreen is a nun in a convent on Molenaarsstraat in Gent.  She and I have been talking for weeks about going for a nice walk in the city, and this morning’s sunshine welcomed us to the cobblestones of Gent centrum.

Noreen was on a mission … and she asked me to accompany her.  We strolled our way to CVO Gent, an adult education school.  She was going to get the details about a driver education course.

Noreen is a study in perseverance.  Twice she’s failed the written test.  But so what?  She has a vision: to drive her sisters to appointments, especially the elderly ones.  And so it’s on to the classroom once more, and loads more studying.  Good for her.

As we left CVO, I pondered.  We were close to two destinations of mine.  Should I ask her to walk to Copy Cash so I could print out an insurance contract I need to sign?

The slightest hesitation yielded to “Yes”.  Noreen smiled.  And off we went.  The printer that the employee directed me to wasn’t working properly, and the instructions were in Dutch, but the persevering magically transferred from Noreen to me.  The attendant came over to help me and soon the result was produced.  It was my turn to smile.

On to the next …

“Will you come with me to witness one of my biggest moments of 2025?”

“Of course!”

We walked a few blocks to Stad Gent, the city government administration centre.  My heart was racing.  I’d got an e-mail saying that my new Belgian Identity Card had arrived … and it was about to become mine.

A warm and courteous city employee greeted us.  Noreen stood nearby as I passed an official sheet of paper to the man.  He removed the magic card from its envelope and put it into some electronic gadget.  He entered some codes.  He had me demonstrate my fingerprints.

And …

The card was placed in my hand.  The surprise of a week ago was now in print: “21 02 2027” (February 21, 2027).  My residency permit has been extended for two years, not one!  Noreen beamed.  Me too.

Later, as we continued our journey, and I imagined kissing my card over and over this evening, Noreen simply said …

Thank you for inviting me to witness this moment

Yes, it was a privilege for both of us

Life is good

I live on the second floor (third in North America) in a building with no elevator.  About fifty steps to climb.  Some folks are tired when they reach me.  I want them to feel welcome.

Two years ago my friend Marieke did a small drawing of me and I put it beside my apartment door, announcing my presence inside.  Now I want something new to adorn my entrance.  But what?

I enjoy living in the “I don’t know” as the question meanders within my mind.  It could take days.  And so it has in this case.

Strangely perhaps, I’ve recently enjoyed putting jigsaw puzzles together.  The finished ones are luminous – a sea turtle, a cat and an elephant.

I decided to go back to the Crafthub site and see if an image leapt off the screen for the pleasure of my visitors.  And it did!

A Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

Are you ready for joy?  Here it is …

I ordered the puzzle.  The company expects it to arrive between March 30 and April 1.  I fly to Canada on the 4th.  And I’m determined …

To have Charles grace the wall beside my apartment door by then.

It will happen

On Sunday I looked at my phone and saw this text from my Internet service provider:

Dear __________ customer, your payment promise has been registered.  If you have not made the payment yet, please pay the amount of 538,94 euro to account number BE00 0000 0000 0000 using the reference 735/0392/11428.  Bear in mind that your telephone, Internet and TV will be suspended if you do not honor this promise to pay.

Oi!

“How could this happen?” I agonized.  “I pay by automatic debit.”  I phoned the company but the billing department was closed on Sunday.  And my mind continued to slump overnight with “What does it mean?”

On to Monday, talking on the phone to a company rep.

“I can’t find any reference to 538 euros, sir.”

“That’s strange.  I’ll look it up.”  I opened my text screen, and there was a text from the company on Sunday.  Google Translate told me it said “We will call you back as soon as an employee is available.”

Huh?

I ran my finger down the screen.  The third message indeed talked about 538 euros.  The date?

December 9, 2023

Silly not-paying-attention me

The rep and I laughed.  All was well, with the possible exception of my having tossed and turned for hours overnight.

***

On to the next:

I sang two songs at Minard last night.  And now, determined to avoid the scourge of false modesty, I will say this:

I nailed it!

I invited the audience to join me in the chorus of “Day Is Done”.  And now, determined to avoid the scourge of vanilla description, I will say this:

They sang!

Barely perceptible during the first chorus, softly during the second, and full-throated during the third.  I was so happy.  Having people sing with me is my favourite part of performing.

Then I sang one of my top five songs of all time … “The Rose”.  Some of the best lyrics I’ve heard.  What is love?  The pain of not having any.  Hope for the appearance of the beloved.

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong

Many in the audience “got it”

I was happy

I am happy

Here I am on the black couch.  A few minutes ago, I wondered what I would write about today.  And then …

A group of school kids walked by, wearing their light green vests.  “I’ll write about them!”  Write about what – I don’t know.

Another thought:  “I want a tour group to come by in the next half hour so I can take their picture and wonder aloud about them too.”

“And if the tour doesn’t show up, I’ll say something silly about that.”

***

I grew up in Toronto, and I remember the magic of some school trips, such as the two-hour bus we took to Stratford to watch a Shakespearean play.  I had little clue what Bill Shakespeare was meaning with his words, but that was okay … I was somewhere new with my friends!

I was accepted.  I was “part of”.   May it be the same for each kid who just tripped by the Izy Coffee windows.  No one left out.  Everyone talked to.  And talking.

I also have memories of being a teacher on these trips.  Counting heads on and off the bus.  Being vigilant about cars.  Looking for any child who seemed “out of it” and saying something (anything) to them … with a smile.  From my mind to theirs: I see you.

***

And now for the adult tour group.  Have you seen them walk by?  I sure haven’t.  Perhaps I should scour the streets of Gent in search.  And if I find them, I can say “Please walk over three streets and pass by the windows of Izy so I can take your picture and reflect on what your lives may be like.”

***

Still no one.  Oh well.

I love guessing what country the group is from.  Sometimes the leader holds up an umbrella with a flag attached as she or he walks along.  Then I don’t have to guess.

Whether I know the country or not, I’m curious.  “Do you have the same joys and sorrows as me?  What can I learn from you?  What can you learn from me?”

“Is it warm where you live?  Do people sit outside on terraces?  Is there a sweet energy in your town?”

***

Should I end this post now or continue to wait, showing infinite patience, my finger itching for a photo op?  Decisions, decisions …

I know.  I’ll set a time limit.  It’s 10:32.  If the tourists don’t make a magical appearance by 10:45 I’ll shut things down.

(Staring out the window)

***

10:45

Niet

Bye

Let’s start with the dictionary:

Something that makes someone who is sad or disappointed feel better

Words keep showing up in my life throughout its span, but usually I don’t pay attention.  I first looked “consolation” in the eyes in the 1980’s when I was studying the thoughts of the spiritual teacher Da Free John.

Everyone is looking to be consoled.  When your consolations are ripped off, you find something else to be consoled by – one thing after the next.  The reason you do not surrender whatever you find consoling is that you do not recognize it for what it is.

As in “not the real thing”, a substitute, a booby prize, a lessening of what is possible.

Two years after my dear wife Jody died, I started looking around to see if the next love of my life was in the neighbourhood.  I went on a dating site and had some dates.

I remember looking across the restaurant table at a woman and thinking “This could work”.  Soon after, I woke up.  Could, might, maybe – not the basis for an eternal love.

I sit here this morning reflecting on the consolations in my current life.  Here are a few:

1.  Watching action movies full of killing

2.  Eating popcorn when I’m not hungry

3.  Having a beer for its taste and gentle buzz, knowing that I’ll feel nauseous later

4.  Remaining in a conversation for the company even though the other person is complaining about something

5.  Remaining in bed, covers pulled up to my chin, even though I’m not tired and I want to get up

***

What if, instead …

I sit for awhile within the juice of living

And then fly!

I’ve never known war … never fought, never hid in the bathroom during an air raid.  The closest I’ve come to this fear was when the twin towers came down during 911.

I’ve fired a gun once in my life, at a target, and the vibration shuddered my arms.  I’ve never hit anyone.  Once, in anger, I threw a piece of chalk in a classroom of students.  Thank God it missed everyone.

I have had a privileged life.  Peace often accompanies me.  I have enough food.  I have enough friends.

Maybe you the reader have been through hell on the battlefield – watched your friends die, felt the blood seeping from a stomach wound.  I’ve been protected from all this.

I read today about a young woman …

7 Oct 1943, Ottla Kafka, beloved sister of author Franz Kafka, was gassed on arrival at Auschwitz after volunteering to escort a group of orphans from the Terezin ghetto so they wouldn’t be afraid.

I’ve been kind to lots of human beings, but never when their lives were in danger.  Ottla teaches me.

***

May my eyes see, again and again

That I am blessed with ease

And that so many people have not been

Three days ago I wrote about Patti Smith singing Bob Dylan’s song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall”.  So surely I’m not going to write about the same thing so soon.  That would be weird, irrational, boring.  Well … I’m willing to be all those things!

Most months I sing at two open mic sessions – at Salvatore’s and at Minard.  But in April I’m in Canada for those times.

So … my eyes narrow and my lips purse at the thought of Friday, May 2 at Salvatore’s.

“Rain” is a seven-minute song.  How can I memorize something that long?  I don’t know about the “how”.  I just know about the “do”.  There’s no way I’m going to stand there looking down at the words on a screen.   My eyes belong to the audience.

Last night I started.  I watched Bob on YouTube, singing the song as a young man in the 1960’s.  I watched other artists cover his work.  And I began memorizing.

The lyrics take up six pages in the Samsung Notes app.  Yesterday I completed Level One memorizing of the first page.

Here it is:

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains

I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways

I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests

I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans

I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard

And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard

And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Level One memorizing is that I can sing all these lines without any assistance.  But an hour later, many of the words have floated away.  I don’t know how many levels there are on the way to mastery, but that word is also elusive.  It’s one thing to be smooth and free as I sing in my living room … and entirely another when faced with many eyes looking at me.

Still, I’m thrilled with my early progress.  I’m imagining walking down the streets of Toronto singing page three out loud, or even page six!  If Torontonians find that strange, too bad for them.

I felt the surges of Dylan’s melody last night.  And even completing a few lines gave me a sense of the accumulating power of his words.  Feeling this for seven minutes?  Woh!

My next memorizing session will be tomorrow.  Who knows what will be unleashed?

Thank you, Bob

This photo was taken in 1968 by an astronaut as he orbited the moon.  It’s one of the most famous pictures in history.

Bill Anders wasn’t a professional photographer.  No matter.  His image lives on, and will continue to do so.

It took place in a moment.  It seems to me that there are a lot of those in a life.  What if you … or me … did something stunning, or said something stunning, that changed life on this planet forever?!  Such as singing a song, creating a work of art, writing a poem?  Or …

What if a simple conversation we have with someone sends them on a brand new trajectory in their life?

It is possible.

Thirty-five years ago I gave a talk entitled “Mastery of the Moment”.  I still carry in my wallet the little card I gave to participants.  The word “mastery” doesn’t feel right anymore but “the moment” sure does.

What will I create in the flash of a smile?

What will you?