Learning to play the cello again is more of an art than a science.  Sadly, I’m still struggling with the details, and less often seeing the wide open sky.

I know five positions – places to locate my fingers on the neck of the instrument.  Of perhaps I should say “know of” rather than a deep knowing of the soul.

When I’m learning a new piece, my teacher Lieven wants me to soon leave behind the technical … and fall into the melody, feeling it in my fingers.  A major challenge!

Last week, Lieven was working with my fellow student Xan and demonstrated playing an étude for him (a study), with a lot of moving between positions.  My ears and eyes turned to the melody.  It soared.  I fell in love.  And I knew I’d be playing it, that I’d be soaring too.  Figuring out the positions – yes – but also entering the realm of angels.

The étude doesn’t have a name.  I don’t know who wrote it.

Thank you … whoever you are

It’s you and me

I studied hard and still I was confused – especially with dictation, where the teacher says a two-bar rhythm of notes and we write it down.  Some of the examples were in 2/4 time and some in 6/8.  So far, I’m pretty bad at this.

The exam was from 10:00 till noon today.  At 8:30 I started roaming around Gent centrum, finding staff members I know at various eateries and shops.  I asked them to pray for me, or at least send me good vibes at some point during the two hours.

They all said yes.  Here are the prayer power folks:

Glenn in Soup Lounge

Dominique in Panos

Paul in the Press Shop

Lies in Izy Coffee

Sévrine in The Cobbler

That’s a lot of well-wishing!

I also had the ongoing support from the Core group of the Evolutionary Collective … even though none of them knew about the exam.  And the same from many friends in Belgium and Canada.

Before the exam started, I looked around at the other seven students and silently sent them my love.  I wonder if anyone noticed.  If not, that’s okay … I sent it.

I needed every minute of the two hours.  I found most of the exam extremely difficult.  My confusion about dictation continued on its not-so-merry way.

I may have passed and I may have failed.  Either way, I’m proud of myself.  I did my best, week after week, to absorb lessons that were spoken and written in Dutch.  I’m just scratching the surface in my understanding of the language.  Thank God for classmates Jan, Veronique, Gudrun and Isabelle.  They’ve helped me figure things out (some things).

Well done, Bruce

Amore Infinito  (The Giro d’Italia cycling race)

Just Do It  (Nike running shoes)

Breakfast Of Champions  (Wheaties cereal)

Priceless  (MasterCard)

When You Care Enough To Send The Very Best  (Hallmark greeting cards)

Think Different  (Apple computers)

It Takes A Licking And Keeps On Ticking  (Timex watches)

When The World Zigs, Zag  (BBH, a British advertising agency)

Impossible Is Nothing  (Adidas running shoes)

I’d Walk A Mile For A Camel  (Camel cigarettes)

Democracy Dies In Darkness  (The Washington Post newspaper)

Welcome Everything  (Bruce Kerr)

***

***

***

***

***

And yours

This afternoon I knew I needed to study.  I’m also sick with some stomach thing.

Wednesday is my Music Theory exam, and I find the learnings difficult to achieve.  It seems like many others in the course are far more able.  Oh well.

So I studied for two hours today, especially about hearing intricate rhythms and transferring them to paper.  This amid the nausea.

In my better moments, I ventured far beyond little old me.  I thought of all the people throughout history who have grappled with the same study/sick dilemma.

And all among our current eight billion souls who know the story well.

And … just maybe … there was someone in India and another in Ecuador this afternoon who were dealing with the same challenge in real time with me.

I am not alone

(Photo removed)

It’s a mountain pass in the Alps of northern Italy, and today some of the best male cyclists on Earth will tackle its slopes. 

It’s the second last day of the Giro d’Italia, one of the three Grand Tours of professional cycling.  Isaac del Toro from Mexico leads Richard Carapaz from Ecuador by 43 seconds.  Today’s climb should tell the story of winning and losing the tour.

And guess where I’ll be?  Sitting in my living room, stuck to my TV.

The Colle delle Finestre is the star of the show today.  The road goes uphill for about eighteen kilometres.  And for seven of those kilometres the surface is gravel.  The average gradient is nine percent.  Here’s what that looks like.  Imagine yourself on a bicycle for an hour or two climbing this …

The maximum slope on the climb is sixteen percent.  Oi!  A battle for the strongest.  The rest will fall back.  Team strategy will mean nothing.  The legs and heart (physical and emotional) will rule the day.

Ten years ago, my television gluing would have been about the Toronto Maple Leafs fighting for the Stanley Cup in professional ice hockey, not the heroics of Richard and Isaac.  Times change.  Passions come and go, to be replaced by new ones.  A life flows.

My favourite rider is Carapaz.  He attacks (which admittedly is a strange word for sports).  Basically he speeds up out of the large group of cyclists (the peleton) and tries to leave them all behind.  So exciting.

And so …

Go, Richard!

What if the world no longer speaks … but instead sings?

What if the world no longer writes sentences and paragraphs … but instead flows in poetry?

What if the world no longer walks … but instead dances?

What if the world is no longer separate … but instead is together?

What if the world no longer judges … but instead empathizes?

What if the world no longer says “Look at me” … but instead says “Look at you”?

What if the world no longer pushes … but instead pulls?

What if the world no longer follows … but instead leads?

What if the world no longer builds walls … but instead builds bridges?

What if the world no longer utters a four-letter swear word … but instead says “love”?

What if the world no longer lives “ethnocentric” … but instead embraces “worldcentric”?

What if the world no longer cares about your house and car … but instead cares about your heart?

What if the world no longer chooses grey and black … but instead picks red, yellow and blue?

What if the world no longer has “No” as a default position … but instead goes for “Yes”?

What if the world no longer reveres straight lines and right angles … but instead follows the curves?

What if the world no longer says “I’m right” … but instead chooses “I’m real”?

What if the world no longer lectures ad nauseum … but instead knows when to stop?

Like now

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.  I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me.  I love you for the part of me that you bring out

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

So wise, Elizabeth.  I wish I could have known you, shared a coffee, shared a hug.

I continue to scan the world of people for those who show me the heart of me.  I have met many of these gentle folks.  They are a gift.  And there is more giving to come.

I await new friends

Lille in northern France is infinitely more than a Springsteen concert.  First, it was about people.  Here are two lovely folks from Ireland.  We sat beside each other on a big square near Grand Place … watching all manner of humanity pass by and weaving together stories from our lives.

Then there was Pizzeria Il Piccolino on an out-of-the-way street near the centrum.  What you see is my favourite meal in the world – pesto pasta, supplemented by an Italian beer and delightful conversation.  A 21-year-old woman was being fêted by her mother in celebration of a young birthday.  I did what any normal human being would do … sang her “Joyeuse Anniversaire à Toi”.  All three of us smiled.

A place to rest and watch people sitting, picnicking and throwing a long ball-and-ribbon to their dog.  On a lazy Monday afternoon.

I liked all the iron railings on all the balconies.  I just wished people had been on them, enjoying the air with me.

One more:

Lille … turning worlds upside down

Bruce Springsteen was many things on Saturday night.  Among them was his love for a band of fifty years:

The heart-stopping, pants-dropping, house-rocking, earth-quaking, booty-shaking, Viagra-taking, love-making, legendary … E Street Band

He also spoke for his country (and all countries), saying something like this:

The only difference between democracy and authoritarianism is you and me

And he sang of America’s present and future in “Long Walk Home”:

My father said “Son, we’re lucky in this town
It’s a beautiful place to be born
It just wraps its arms around you
Nobody crowds you and nobody goes it alone
You know that flag flying over the courthouse
Means certain things are set in stone
Who we are, what we’ll do and what we won’t”

It’s gonna be a long walk home
Hey, pretty darling, don’t wait up for me
Gonna be a long walk home

Then Donald Trump was centre stage in “House of a Thousand Guitars”:

The criminal clown has stolen the throne
He steals what he can never own
May the truth ring out from every small town bar
We’ll light up the house of a thousand guitars

Well it’s alright, yeah it’s alright
Meet me darlin’ come Saturday night
All good souls from near and far
Will meet in the house of a thousand guitars

Here come all the good souls

Off the bus, walking briskly on the sidewalk, finding that my Gate K is on the far side of the stadium.  As I circled Pierre Mauroy, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band started.  It was one of my favourite songs – “No Surrender”.  I smiled as familiar words poured out of the arena.  I was in the presence of Springsteen … I just couldn’t see him.

Finally to K.  The security check was fast, probably because nearly everybody was already in their seats.

My goal was Section 23.  Many steps upwards and I was there.  Row 60 … more up.  Seat 45.  Bruce was in the middle of a song so I sat in the aisle till he was done.

Then I looked to my left and tried to communicate to the fellow in French.  “Quelle place êtes-vous?” didn’t get the job done.  I sat back down as the next song began.  When it was over, I tried again, and managed to understand “Seat 56”.

(Repeat the sitting and standing for the next song)

I looked to my right – another gentleman.  He spoke English!  “Seat 55.”  So at least I knew my direction.

One more time: sit … then stand.  “Pardon.  Excusez-moi” as person after person let me pass.  And then …

Seat 45

Home at 19:55

***

I sat and stood and sang enthralled for over two hours.  “The River”, “Badlands”, “Dancing in the Dark” … and one huge etcetera.

Bruce was tiny but the big screens showed me his sweat.  How can somebody so old throw himself around so much, sing so much, do guitar solos so much?  Thank you Bruce.  And Nils, Steve, Max, Roy, Jake, Garry, Soozie and all you other guys.

Here’s a photo of the crowd waving our arms in unison for some anthem (that I forget) near the end of the show.  Magnifique!

And then there was getting home to my Airbnb.  It took two hours.  That’s all right.  The previous two hours were stunning.

I smiled all night as I slept