Well, actually one of them is 12-years-old. 

They’re both fierce and loving.  They say what’s true for them.  They stand tall when opposed.

1.  Lyra Belacqua, character in The Golden Compass film

(To other kids chasing her)  If you value your lives, come no further.

…

(To her best friend Roger, who called her a “lady”)  Take it back, or we ain’t best mates no more!

…

Mrs. Coulter: The Magisterium is what people need.  They keep things working by telling people what to do.

Lyra: But you told the Master you did whatever you pleased.

Mrs. Coulter: Ah, that’s right.  Clever girl.  Well, some people know what’s best for them, and some people don’t.  Besides, they don’t tell people what to do in a mean, petty way.  They tell them what to do in a kindly way, to keep them out of danger.

(Lyra no doubt thinking Huh?)

…

Lyra: It’s all bigger and scarier than we ever thought.
Pan: Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.
Lyra: But we’ve got to, though, ain’t we?

…

(Lyra looking up at a huge bear)  Iorek Byrnison, you’re the first ice bear I ever met.  I was ever so excited, and scared.  But now I’m just disappointed.  I heard that bears lived to hunt and to fight.  Why are you wasting your time here, drinking whiskey?

…

We’ll set things right.  We will.  You, and me, and Iorek, and Serafina Pekkala, and Mr. Scoresby.  And my father.  We’ll set it right, Pan.  Just let them try to stop us.

…

Truth to power

***

2.  Kamala Harris, being interviewed by Fox News, a conservative company that backs Donald Trump

May I please finish.  You have to let me finish.

…

I’m in the middle of responding to the point you’re raising and I’d like to finish.

…

You and I both know that he [Donald Trump] has talked about turning the American military on the American people.  He has talked about going after people who are engaged in peaceful protest.  He has talked about locking people up because they disagree with him.

This is a democracy.  And in a democracy, the president of the United States – in the United States of America – should be willing to be able to handle criticism without saying he would lock people up for doing it.

…

Turning the page from the last decade in which we’ve been burdened with the kind of rhetoric coming from Donald Trump that has been designed and implemented to divide our country, and have Americans literally point fingers at each other.  Rhetoric and an approach to leadership that suggests the strength of a leader is based on who you beat down instead of what we all know – the strength of leadership is based on who you lift up.

…

People are exhausted with someone who professes to be a leader who spends full time in demeaning and engaging in personal grievances, and it being about him rather than the American people.

…

Being in the lion’s den

And roaring back

***

I salute you … Lyra and Kamala

What do you do if you have an idea, you’ve had it for decades, and the prevailing wisdom of the world says you’re wrong?  Or even ridiculous?

Graham Hancock is a Netflix hero (or anti-hero) who sees things differently from almost all professional archaeologists.

Here’s what The Guardian Media Group has to say:

Hancock believes that an advanced ice-age civilisation – responsible for teaching humanity concepts such as maths, architecture and agriculture – was wiped out in a giant flood brought about by multiple comet strikes about 12,000 years ago.

…

That’s the danger of a show like this.  It whispers to the conspiracy theorist in all of us.  And Hancock is such a compelling host that he’s bound to create a few more in his wake.  Believing that ultra-intelligent creatures helped to build the pyramids is one thing, but where does it end?  Believing that election fraud is real?  Believing 9/11 was an inside job?

Hancock keeps going.  Season Two of Ancient Apocalypse was unveiled today on Netflix.

Is he right?  I don’t know.  Does he have courage?  Absolutely.

Wikipedia weighs in:

Hancock’s claims regarding the ancient past have been widely rejected by relevant experts.  Hancock’s interpretations of archaeological evidence and historic documents have been identified as a form of pseudoarchaeology and pseudohistory.  They superficially resemble investigative journalism but are biased towards preconceived conclusions by ignoring context, cherry picking or misinterpreting evidence, and withholding critical countervailing data.  His writings have neither undergone scholarly peer review nor been published in academic journals.  Hancock presents himself as a culture hero who fights the dogmatism of academics, claiming his work to be more valid than the research of professional archaeologists.

Charlatan or sage?

I love watching the show.  I love seeing the passion.  I love seeing Graham stand tall in the face of massive opposition.

And one thing he said today has lingered in my mind …

If we’re convinced that something doesn’t exist, we don’t look for it

I woke up this morning to the sound of my neighbour hammering a nail into the wall.  He sometimes hangs new pictures.

Why so early in the morning?

Except a glance at my watch told me the story: 9:47.  I had been in bed for over 10 hours and my Polar app said my “Actual Sleep” was 9 hours and 28 minutes.  O my God!

And my dreams: Are they Covid-induced or is this my actual sleeping mind churning out images?

***

I was watching a men’s cycling race.  All the riders were together, really giving ‘er, the colours of their jerseys an abstract painting.

One sweating man wearing a white jersey was missing an arm.  He was pedalling furiously with just one hand to steady the bike.  How is he doing this?

***

It was an old guy, facing left.  He was deeply tanned and deeply lined in the face.  Unshaven.  Flowing grey hair covering his neck.

And he wore a transparent helmet that extended way beyond his nose.  His eyes, barely seen, said he was at peace.

***

Something big to my left smashed into the wall of my bedroom.  Then there was a hole, the size of a dinner plate.  It was full of stars.

The empty space disappeared, replaced by the orange and black of a tiger’s face, trying to get in.

He squeezed through, with those shining eyes looming closer.  He opened his mouth and latched onto my left arm by the elbow.  But there were no teeth – he was gumming me.

The eyes were fierce, and I could feel the next moment coming, when the flesh would leave the bones …

***

Okay.  Enough of that.

Even though my head’s been pretty spinny today, I decided to meditate.  My history has been that when I’m sick, meditation doesn’t work.  But I gave it a shot.

I’ve meditated for a long time.  For the past few years, by the grace of whatever Spirit is, I’ve usually been able to reach a point of stillness in 15 to 20 minutes.  Not always but mostly.  Before then is a period of inner vibration, some sort of pulsing.  Then eventually it’s gone … and the surface of the lake is glass.  Not a touch of wind.

This afternoon the calm seemed to come very early.  I glanced at my watch: 9 minutes.  So unexpected, so miraculous.

Such a mystery, this Covid.  My night was full of fanciful stories.  My body is weak.  My head is woozy.  But somehow, when I sit in my meditation chair …

All is calm.  All is bright

The Covid test came back positive on Saturday afternoon.  Lovely people in my life stepped forward with their support.

I talked about how important it was for me to write during this, to stay connected beyond the walls of my apartment.

Friend Number One:

Give yourself a break and focus on recovery!

My response:

Hmm … maybe I won’t write tomorrow.

Tomorrow is now today.  I realize that the writing is part of the healing.  And so this post.  Sleeping is another part.  I’ll go there once the words peter out.

***

I wrote about contacting folks whom I’d seen before getting the test result.

Friend Number Two:

Your care translates to action, so rare in this world and so beautiful.  Love in action is everything.  Be well and heal soon my friend.

My response:

Thank you for your kind words, ...  I need to serve in action, yes.  The world needs this.

If I did harm to others, I would get a lot sicker than I am now … spiritually.

***

Friend Number Three:

That is too bad.  Be gentle on yourself and let the healing unfold.  Get well soon Bruce!

My response:

Thank you, …  I love the image of my healing unfolding … like a flower.

Slow and steady.  It’s not a race.

***

Ahh … my words are ending

Time for the covers up to my chin

Good afternoon

I woke up this morning with these words:

“I feel like ****.  I’m not going to write today.  I can’t focus”

Well, here I am … briefly.

I’m isolating myself for as long as these Covid symptoms last.  And tomorrow I’ll get an Uber Eats delivery.

But I can’t wall up my life.  I need contact.  And so these words …

The last two nights I’ve slept in my guest bedroom.  It’s quieter.  During one of my sojourns in bed today, I suddenly heard very loud talking.  Was there music too?  I wasn’t sure.

My slowly moving brain tried to make sense of the situation:

I don’t get it.  My neighbours are great – Dirk downstairs and Donia up.  Sure, I hear them sometimes but it’s no big deal.  There isn’t much sound insulation in this old building.  And they’re both kind people.  Why are they talking so loud?

Was it something I said or did?  And my mind started spewing out my possible transgressions … ad nauseum.  My head was floating in some never-never land.  Words tumbled out.

Finally I decided to get out of bed, open my door and see if the noise was up or down.  Was Dirk the bad guy or was it Donia?

One wall in my guest bedroom is also a wall in my living room – the one with the TV hanging on it.  As I walked in, the TV was on, and the commentators were chatting enthusiastically.

Oh!  Before I hit the bed, I was scheduling a future show to record.  I thought I turned the TV off.  Guess I just paused it.

Dull head

Not too aware of things

Thoroughly wrong

I went to the hospital this morning, to what in Canada we call “Urgent Care” rather than “Emergency”.

I was dizzy overnight, at times hallucinating.  I’m sure the medical diagnosis is “out to lunch”.

The doctor said I’d get an e-mail this afternoon if the Covid test came back positive.  And it did.  May it be a mild case.

I’ll be staying away from people for a couple of days … or longer.  I’ll order in food from Uber Eats.

After a few “poor me” moments, I realized I had a job to do:

1.  I had coffee with my neighbour Dirk in his apartment yesterday.  So I texted him, asking that he get a Covid test.  “I hope I didn’t make you sick!”

2.  Also yesterday I had lunch at my favourite Panos sandwich shop – on the Langemunt, and I dropped by there today as well.  An hour ago, the store was closed, and it’ll be closed tomorrow.  “I need to reach these people.”

After some digging, I found a Panos customer service number and left a message.  “Tell them I have Covid and they should be tested.”

The “them” are precious staff members whom I joke around with: Dominique, Gihanna, Shakira, Yvet, Eric, Pieter-Jan and Dafenea.  Friends take care of friends.

And then there was my early morning Uber trip to the hospital.  My driver was Alaa, a very nice fellow.  “He needs to know, too!”

I soon found that writing a message to Uber was a huge challenge.  Typically all that’s available is choosing one feedback option or another.

I tried and tried … and it seemed that Alaa wouldn’t find out about my Covid.  And then finally …

I found a category called “Find lost item”.  A minute later, I was phoning Alaa to alert him.

Yes!

I got the job done

I’m proud of myself for caring

And now I’ll deal with the symptoms

That’s Dutch for “sick”.  I am.  Dizzy, nauseous, stuffed in the nose.

There are two things I think about.  The first is “What medical help is available?”  In that realm, I visited my pharmacist today.  Keysha is brilliant.  I returned home with Paracetamol for my headache, Kaloban for general cold symptoms, and Physiomer Express for my closed nasal passages.

I know how often to take these things and for how long.  I’ve done my due diligence.

But there is so much more to the story.

I am faced with a marvelous challenge.  It’s easy for me to be good to people when my world is rolling along merrily … but what about now?

The body is struggling and the typical “go to” is to draw inward, to compress, to isolate.  What if I instead blossomed to other human beings?  Let the discomfort sit there (treating it “scientifically”) but be bigger than that.

And so I did.

I continued loving the people I passed on the street, especially the old woman sitting on a piece of cardboard with her begging cup.  She was there as I headed to the grocery store and still sitting as I walked home.

I thanked Keysha for her expertise and care, even as my mind stumbled through the details of medications.

I returned the kindness of the woman sitting at the next table in Panos.  She moved her bag so I could exit more easily.  I said “Dank u” and smiled.

My life force was low as I padded my way through the streets.  You could say the quantity of love coming off me was diminished, along with its frequency … but it was there.

So I was up to a lovely challenge

I gave what I could

And took my meds

First of all, he’s got a cool name (the “Bruce” part, I mean).  And he’s been my musical hero for a very long time.

Many moons ago, I fell in love with Bruce’s music.  I was taken with the Dancing in the Dark concert video where he invited a young woman onto the stage.  And they danced!  There was such joy in the space.

I finally got to see Bruce and the E Street Band live at the now-demolished Exhibition Stadium in Toronto.  Thousands of us danced to his songs.

Years later, my wife Jody and I heard “The Boss” sing in the Air Canada Centre just before Christmas, again in Toronto.  He wore a red hat and thrilled the faithful with his rendition of Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town.  I was especially enthralled with his saxophone player – Clarence Clemons.  This guy was a big black fellow who made love to his instrument.  Oh, he rocked his solos!

Fast forward to my life in Belgium.  Last summer I tripped over to Amsterdam in the Netherlands to get another dose of Bruce.  Two-and-a-half hours of uninterrupted classic rock.  Sadly, Clarence had died years before.  But (wonder of wonders) his nephew joined the band, and he channelled uncle on the sax.  Magnificent.

Once I got back to Gent, I had a thought: “I’ve just seen Bruce for the last time.  And that’s okay.  I had a blast last night!”

***

And then there was yesterday.  My phone told the story:

2025 Tour

Springsteen & E Street Band

He’s coming to Lille, France on May 24, 2025.  That’s 75 kilometres from Gent!

I stared at the screen

I didn’t think

I bought

…

Perhaps “last time” is highly overrated

A friend of mine is pregnant … a newbie will be coming to the family after two sons.  She’s been waiting to find out the sex of the child.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked if she cared if it was a girl or boy.  “No, I just want a healthy child.”  Okay … but I’ve been praying for a girl.

I walked into a coffee shop this morning and she was sitting there.  I sat down and started talking about the weird dreams I’ve been having.  She listened patiently.

And then …

“I’m having a girl”

Her eyes were shining so bright!  Actually all of her was glowing.  I’m sure her name is in the dictionary under the definition of “joy”.  I sat there stunned, revelling in the purity of the moment.  All was well.

We talked about things I know nothing about – morning sickness, walking around with a huge belly.  But the radiance outshone the experiences of pregnancy. 

I smiled to be in the presence of such delight … a woman yearning to welcome her daughter to the world.

My wife Jody and I didn’t have children.  No young one has ever called me “Daddy” or grabbed my hand on the street.  I’ve lived on the edge of regret about this for many years.

Still, my life is full of connection with other human beings.  As a teacher and volunteer, I’ve contributed to the lives of many children.  And so … “Goodbye, regret.”

How about that?  A huge source of happiness in life is beyond what I’ve known, or will ever know. 

I choose “No problemo” in response

Marvels abound

I simply need to open my eyes

Timothy Leary was an American psychologist who praised the use of psychedelic drugs as an avenue of spiritual opening.

I read the quote below … and my eyes opened wide.  “O my God, that’s me talking!”

Am I alone?  No.  I have my blessed companions in the Evolutionary Collective.  But in face-to-face life in Gent, the sadness sometimes seeps down.  Still, Timothy’s right: Just say something – to someone.  Yes, they may avert their eyes.  Or … you may be on the leading edge of an astonishing conversation.

Admit it.  You aren’t like them.  You’re not even close.  You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes.  But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences.

For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?” you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”

Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator.  But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing?  Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger?

Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle.  Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence.  Trust your instincts.  Do the unexpected.  Find the others.

***

Hello