From August 4 till August 13, I was at a silent meditation retreat in the United States. When I left Barre, Massachusetts, I had no interest in writing. Something had changed.
I wrote one more post, and since then … silence.
Until this morning.
I’ve written 2,289 posts on WordPress/Jetpack and Facebook over the last eleven years. And now … perhaps I have nothing left to say.
But I don’t think that’s true.
It’s a mystery why I picked up my phone a few minutes ago and started tapping. There were no thoughts, such as “You really should do this” or “Some people miss your writing.” The body knew it was time.
At one point last year I wrote for 120 days in a row. And now I essentially haven’t written for a month. Ahh … the rhythms of life.
I’m very loose after the meditation retreat. There are spaces everywhere, such as in my body. Life feels slow, like a slow-motion dance. If there’s a destination, I know it not.
I’m back in the usual speaking world after nine days of silence. And I have little desire to write. But … I thought I’d say a few things:
I walked into Dunkin’ Donuts this morning. I wondered if big coffee chains in North America (such as Tim Hortons in Canada) still had signs saying you can only sit here for twenty minutes. Dunkin’ was different – fifteen minutes.
(Sigh)
I find the word “loitering” particularly nasty. In my home of Ghent, Belgium, you’re welcome to visit with your friends for as long as you like … sipping your cappuccino. It’s what the world is meant to be.
***
Last night I returned to a Mediterranean restaurant in Boston’s North End. I had a delicious meal there before my meditation retreat started. After the retreat ended on Wednesday, I’ve been telling people on buses about the glories of the Moon Restaurant. Locals had never heard of it.
I showed up yesterday after Google Maps gently reminded me that it was “Mood”, not “Moon”. The owner Fatima and I had a good laugh. All that lost business!
***
I sat on a bench this morning watching the flow of humanity. One young couple caught my attention. She was black and he was white. Their hands loved each other.
I noticed the skin colour difference but there was no impact. Their relationship outshone everything else.
I thought of the past. In the 1960’s there would have been big reactions from passersby. We’ve come a long way.
Splorin’ in the North End of Boston … old, Italian, European, lovely.
Hanover Street is full of restaurants that are open to the world. Huge spaces that sometimes are windows … and life from the street flows in. This photo is from the Internet:
Here’s one from my real life, on nearby Salem Street. Minutes earlier the two tables were full of happy people but I didn’t ask to take their photo.
The restaurant is Mood, run by Fatima and her husband. She grew up in Saudi Arabia. Her smile filled the dining room. It rubbed off on Dave and me, and all the diners surrounding us. The group of us had a fine old time.
And the flavours! Tagliatelle, sea bass and asparagus. Subtle and remarkable.
***
Then there was St. Leonard Church. I sat in a pew twice … meditating and watching people. It was a miracle of pastel colours and curves. I felt at home.
In a somewhat less spiritual vein, as I gazed at the beauty I felt food stuck in my teeth. Being an organized human being, I was carrying my floss. But you don’t do that in church, Bruce!
I supposed I was right. But then an inspiration … I’ll wait till the church is empty and then I’ll do my thing.
12, 9, 7, 10, 4, 1, 3 …
It was never empty. So I soldiered on with tight teeth.
Outside was the St. Leonard’s Peace Garden. Twice I gazed upon the Virgin Mary. She glowed.
It’s the next day. I’m sitting in Logan Airport, about to meet three of my fellow yogis. We’ve arranged to share a van to the Insight Meditation Society two hours away.
Before the retreat starts, I’ll include a couple of pics of IMS. After that, it’s radio silence for nine days. No TV, Internet, music or reading. And I’m fine with that.
I was sitting in the lobby of the Boston Marriott Long Wharf Hotel, waiting for my friend Dave to show up. A gentleman moved slowly to the couch across from me. He had trouble sitting down. Once there he closed his eyes. There was a long scar on his knee.
When he came back to his surroundings, I said hi. We talked about his home … Massachusetts, and mine … Gent.
And then his wife sat down. Their room wasn’t ready yet. She told me that they live an hour away but came to the Long Wharf for a two-day retreat. Husband isn’t very mobile right now so the hotel offered the chance to be near the water and all the boats. Plus near Francesca’s, one of their favorite restaurants.
I silently gave thanks for my continuing ability to wander the pathways of life.
Then they melted into each other … and I took their picture.
***
Dave and I meandered through the old streets. In the daylight, we came upon an immense flag. I find any country’s flag to be beautiful, and this one sure was. The hopes and dreams of a nation.
Interlude:
I’m writing this from a bench in Boston Common, a huge downtown park with a splash pad and a woman wearing a white dress and straw hat, sitting with her friends. Straight out of Gone With The Wind.
Okay … I’m too tired to keep writing. Tomorrow morning I’ll tell you about more Boston people, and then it’s off to Barre, Massachusetts for the meditation retreat – nine days of no Internet, nine days of silence.
Yesterday’s arrival in Boston was momentous, and not in a good way. I wonder what the word really means.
Of great importance or significance, especially in its bearing on the future
So if these three happenings were yucky, the future is not that they’ll never happen again, but how I deal with them down the road.
1. I was tired after the two flights – ten hours in the air. In Boston Airport, it was immediately clear that I had no phone service. And I was too out of it to see that “BOSwis” was the airport’s WiFi. I fact, I bet the sign really said “BOSWiFi” but I didn’t have eyes to see.
Also, apparently no Data Roaming from Belgium. Couldn’t find any message about it. So I was flying blind. My Airbnb host “Melanie” had kindly offered to pick me up at the airport but I couldn’t figure out how to contact her. Later I heard a voice in my head: “Well, Bruce, WhatsApp would have done nicely.”
I spent nearly an hour this morning on the phone with my Belgian Internet service provider. Janice was so kind … but I couldn’t piece together her instructions, or what had gone wrong. In a lovely spurt of niceness, she e-mailed me the instructions so I wouldn’t have to remember the words of her voice.
She adjusted the coverage that I was getting … and here I am sitting with oodles of data.
2. No luggage. The first flight, to Munich, left Brussels an hour late because of weather problems. My layover of 1:20 turned into a sprint of :25. One result was that Lufthansa left my luggage in Munich.
I sat for many minutes at Carousel 4, watching suitcases traverse their loop, just not my suitcase. Ten or twenty passengers shared my fate. The Lufthansa rep did his best to be helpful. “Coming tomorrow. Right now, leave the Customs area and go to the Transfer desk. Another Lufthansa agent will take your info so hopefully your luggage will be delivered to your home tomorrow evening.” So there was hope within the sigh.
I left the meeting travelling light. Rather than find the desk right away, I worked on solving problem number three. By the time I got to the Transfer desk, the rep had gone home.
Happily there was a sign. I could scan the image to access a “delayed luggage” form, not requiring the Internet. So I sat there blearily, doing my best to answer questions about my suitcase. I wasn’t on top of my game.
Hopefully this evening I can shave and put on deodorant.
3. My Airbnb host and I couldn’t find each other. A neighbouring passenger helped me identify Logan’s WiFi. (Thank you, dear anonymous one) So at least Melanie and I could talk to each other.
Bruce: “I’m standing outside Customs at Terminal E.”
Melanie: “So am I.”
Bruce: “I don’t see you.” (We’d exchanged pictures)
Melanie: “I don’t see *you*.”
The fact was that we’d both assumed. My experience in airports is that once you’ve cleared Customs and got your luggage, you go through a big door that opens into a lobby. Behind a low fence are the loved ones, some holding signs. And that’s what I saw last night. I held Melanie’s photo and scanned faces. No one that looked like her.
Melanie’s assumption was that I would meet her in the parking lot because drivers picking up travellers were supposed to stay with their cars.
“And never the twain shall meet.” Well, you’ll be happy to know that the twain eventually met. We drove home. I fell into bed. And I dreamt of tomorrow … another day.
I’m in the departure lounge at Brussels Airport … looking around.
Almost everyone is intent on their phone – individuals, couples, friends, whole families.
Happily I see some alternatives:
Mom, dad, daughter, son … all eating, and talking to each other!
A young man sleeping on one of the lounge chairs
A 40-something woman sleeping, and looking cozy with a white down jacket tucked under her chin
And another sleeper, female I think. A blanket covers her head
A young woman holding a magazine in her hands, and reading it
And could that be a meditator way over there? Or maybe she’s just majorly relaxed, tired, etcetera.
All these lives, ready to lift off to Helsinki. Actually I’m sitting in the wrong lounge for Munich (Munich-Boston is later). I must correct that.
I wonder about these lives. I don’t know any of them. But when I look towards their eyes, perhaps I’m wrong. I do know us human beings, in all our variety and commonality. We ache. We exult. We grieve. We win. We lose.
That’s her on the left, with her son Faas and Lotte Kopecky. Ellen has been a professional cyclist since 2006 … and now she says it’s time to retire.
She speaks the truth about loving an activity and knowing it’s time to stop. And about her frailty as a human being – a frailty that visits you and me as well.
It’s been a very difficult decision for me. I really love the life of a professional cyclist. I really see it as a privilege. I love time trialling, it’s no secret. That’s my big passion and my big love. It still is and it will always be.
I also love road cycling, but especially in the last two years I had a lot of nasty crashes. And this for sure makes me more scared on the bike in the peloton, and it makes me lose the real love of the road racing. Because of the dangers of the sport, I cannot enjoy the road cycling as much as I would like to anymore. I feel that the peloton is not my place any more, and it’s time for a new generation.
I had a good spring this year, so when that was going well I didn’t feel retirement calling, but I’ve had some nasty crashes in the past two years and after the spring this year I broke my shoulder. And in my first race coming back from that, the Baloise Tour, I was involved in a hard crash in the middle of the peloton. At that moment, I realised that I don’t want this anymore. We started the next day in the rain, and I thought “no”. This is not where I feel at home anymore. For me that was the moment where I knew I was done with racing in the peloton.
I’ve meditated since about 2007. It’s been a journey of quiet and chatter … the human mind at work.
During the last few years, during some meditation sessions, I’ve had the experience of quieting to stillness. For awhile, I feel a gentle throbbing in my head. And then, after ten or twenty minutes, the rhythm ceases. No movement within the eyes. A straight horizontal line. It’s a blessing when it comes. And sometimes it never does.
Yesterday I sat in my meditation chair. Voilà:
I had a Zoom meeting with the Evolutionary Collective in two-and-a-half hours. So I set the timer on my watch for two hours. “That’s pretty long. I’ll finish well before then.”
And I began …
Within perhaps five minutes I was gone into the stillness. There was nothing in the breath … or the mind. Occasionally the word “love” would enter, and my mouth would curl upwards. And then that was gone too.
I was softly awake with my eyes closed, fully aware of any sounds that entered the room. Time melted away. Even now melted away. I sat, hands loose in the lap.
Then my watch started vibrating.
Never before a meditation session like this … the peace, the long long time.
As I returned to the world of objects, I was thrilled. In wonder.
And here’s what’s so: I may experience this again today. I may never experience this again. And everything in between.
It’s a week away but I’m already thinking about it. Next Monday I begin a nine-day silent retreat at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts, USA. It will be my eighth time at IMS.
Here’s a photo of the meditation hall:
There’ll be 80 or 100 of us at this Buddhist retreat. Every evening one of the teachers will talk to us about what the Buddha had to say … usually about the workings of the mind but sometimes the opening of the heart. Other than those times, it’ll be pretty quiet!
As well as the silence, we “yogis” are encouraged not to make eye contact with other participants. Prolonged silence tends to bring up life issues. There’s no TV, Internet, music or books to distract the mind. So … the person I pass in the hallway may at that moment be grappling with something huge. Leave them alone.
I’m a social person. I love talking and looking into the other person’s eyes. It’s one of the reasons that my recent spiritual life has focused on the practices we do in the Evolutionary Collective. But there is a place for another spiritual way. I’m about to be immersed in silence and a type of aloneness.
I intend that my fifteen days in the US will be an expression of loving the human beings I’m with – in the meditation hall, at the airport, at my pre and post Airbnb, on the streets of Boston. Asking nothing in return.
A little smile is growing on my face. I will give to human beings whom I don’t know and whom I will never meet again. Letting go of relationship, embracing love.
I was standing on the Oudburg this morning. It’s my street. Talking to Laurens in front of his restaurant. We were both excited because planes are in our very near future.
Tomorrow Laurens flies to Thailand with his partner for a two-week vacation … lots of hiking. On Friday Bruce flies to Boston, USA for a nine-day silent meditation retreat.
Our four eyes were bright with anticipation, and we were enjoying the joy of one another.
And then Salut! We walked off into our days.
As I strolled away, I felt the upturn of my mouth. The smile was wide … and it continued. Over the Zuivelbrug bridge, onto the Langemunt shopping street, to now in Izy Coffee.
And I got to thinkin’.
I remembered past moments when I watched two people leave their conversation with a wave … walking away … smiling. And how precious those images still are.
Happiness that has no period at the end of a sentence. No borderline that keeps the experience inside a box. It continues to flow out into the open air, available to the next human being who comes our way.
***
Just let your love flow like a mountain stream And let your love grow with the smallest of dreams And let your love show and you’ll know what I mean
Bruce's Blog 