I was walking to Dutch class this morning when a poster said hello from an alley.  I stopped and stared.

The words “Wij bereiken meer” mean “We achieve more” … but achieve feels too small.  This girl is giving ‘er – no holding back, full self-expression.

Wow!

Yes, she’s in a choir, and her job is to blend, not dominate.  I get that.  But O my God … she’s alive.

There’s no self-reflection, as in “How am I doing?” or “I hope they like me.”  There’s simply the melody and the lyrics.  And reaching the audience.

***

Here’s one of my favourite YouTube videos.  The choir is Johns’ Boys from Wales.  The song is inspiring.  But look at the open mouths, the smiles … and the faces of those who are receiving the gift.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=U9sMNkpOH6g&si=7Fxzvq_4o9EfDS2H

May we all express

A few nights ago, I sang in an open mic session at Minard.  A woman named Lopke thanked me for singing.  She took a selfie of us.

I looked Lopke up on Facebook.  She’s 24.  Then I found a post that she had pinned.  Woh!  In July, 2023 she walked the Camino del Norte on the northern edge of Spain.  On her own, 33 days, 900 kilometres!

And she wrote melodically about her experience.  Here’s a sample:

I (re)discovered different facets and skills of myself, saw myself in every person I met, talked and hugged with the animals and people on my path, cried because of sadness and happiness, sang and danced every time I had the chance to do it, screamed when I needed to … I finally learned how to ask for help without being ashamed.

It blew me away …

***

I thought about Lopke yesterday, and an old learning came to the surface.  I’m guessing that my mother was the source.

When you’re young, go have an adventure or two.  Then you’ll be ready to settle down … with a nice job, a nice wife, and a couple of children

I wonder.  Is that the best sequence for living?

***

Jolanda is a friend of mine.  She’s a lot older than Lopke.  We’re classmates in the Music Theory class at the Poel music school.  On Wednesday she showed up dressed all in orange – different shades and textures culminating in the brightest shoes!

I thought of Jolanda as I was writing about Lopke.  And a new flavour of “settling down” came to mind:

To become quiet and calm, or to make someone become quiet and calm

I’m imagining someone saying to Jolanda: “Wouldn’t it be nice to try some softer tones?  Maybe beige or light green?”

I know what Jolanda’s answer would be.  Just as I know how Lopke would respond if someone suggested moderation.  “Just a little walk around the pond is enough exercise for one day.”

Jolanda … No thanks

Lopke … No thanks

Bruce … No thanks

Here are two moments in time:

The first was in the summer of 1959.  The second was January 28, 2023.

***

I was ten.  My parents in Toronto thought me spending a week at summer camp would be a good idea.  In nature, on the shore of Lake Simcoe.  I wasn’t so sure.

There was swimming.  I couldn’t.  There were hikes.  I could.  There was craft-making.  I tried.

Maybe ten of us boys slept in a cabin.  Some of them were noisy.  “I want my bed.”  But the truth was deeper than that.  “I want my mommy.”

One night I tossed and turned, feeling so scared, so alone.  Sometime in the wee hours, I got up, put on my clothes, left the cabin, walked to the lakeshore … and turned left.

I was going home.  “Just follow the lake to Toronto.”  Unfortunately the city was about 60 miles away.

The camp staff found me in the darkness, a few miles down the beach.  Whatever happened next I don’t remember. 

***

I was on the first of two flights that were taking me from Toronto to Brussels.  I had checked three pieces of luggage.  I was finally moving to Belgium, without a visa being confirmed … but I was going!

Several previous visits to Gent had showed me: Canadian cities were no longer home. Toronto, London, Lethbridge, Vancouver.  Home was forward, beyond the clouds.  Home was Ghent.

Although I didn’t know the song Long, Long Journey yet, the words were what I was feeling …

Long, long journey
Through the darkness
Long, long way to go
But what are miles
Across the ocean
To the heart that’s coming home?

***

And here I am

Where my soul softly says “Yes”

Sick no more

A few days ago, I told my friend Lies that I’d be singing at an open mic session on Monday evening.  She said she’d like to come.  “Cool!”  I was thrilled that she’d be there to support me.

Yesterday was Monday.

I’m a member of an organization called the Evolutionary Collective.  We’re dedicated to human beings connecting more deeply with each other.  Within the EC is a smaller group of people, called the Core.  We’ve taken on a heightened commitment.

The Core members have an agreement to attend one of two Zoom sessions on Mondays.  In Central European Time, they are 5:00 to 6:00 pm or 2:00 to 3:00 am the next morning.

Hmm.  I did the math.  I’d invited Lies out to dinner and the concert started at 8:00 pm.  Showing up for the 5:00 pm Zoom call would have been a squeeze … and conversation deserves time.

I felt a twinge of disappointment as I added things up:  home by 11:30 > two hours sleep > onto the Zoom call.

And then …

The angst was gone!

The evening unfolded as I’d hoped.  Lies and I had a good talk and good pizza.  I sang well at Minard.  The sleep was closer to an hour than two.  And fifteen of us enjoyed each other’s presence on the EC call.  Then back to snoozing …

2:00 am was simply what was needed.  Yes, it’s unusual being in a meeting in the middle of the night.  But then so much of life is unusual!

***

I had time with Lies

I sang

I kept my word

Six hours of sleep

All is well

My Dutch teacher Jelle e-mailed me this morning.  Here’s the translation from Dutch …

I corrected the exams today. Your exam was good. You did very well!

You scored well on all skills: listening, reading and writing.

Speaking too, but when speaking I notice that you need a lot of time to formulate sentences.

What!?  I passed?  I got so confused during the speaking exam.  Often I couldn’t understand what Jelle was saying.

Miracles happen.

And now I will go regularly to conversation sessions at Amal, where a small group of us newbies will sit with a native Dutch speaker.

And on I thoroughly go.

***

For those of you whose first language isn’t English, the title refers to a printing press.  After the editor made final decisions about what would be in the day’s newspaper, the press was ready to start.  But last minute news meant the front page story would change.

Well … my front page story has just changed!

I last wrote a post eight days ago.  I told myself it was the right thing to do.  “Study Dutch.  Let everything else go.”  So out of balance.  So determined to pass yesterday’s exams.

I grunted.  I sweated.  I exhausted myself.

Today I rest.  I watch a cycling race on TV: the Critérium du Dauphiné.  And I write this post.

Yesterday I had three Dutch exams.  Although I get the official results next Saturday, I’m virtually certain this is true:

I passed the writing and listening parts.

I failed the speaking part.

If this is true, my understanding is that I therefore fail the course.  (Sigh)

I’ve never worked as hard at anything in my life.  “I will pass!” … over and over in my head.

A day later, I’m reflecting on what my teacher Jelle said:

Why are you here?  To pass courses or to learn how to speak Dutch?

She’s right.  My ego speaks otherwise … but then it’s not dependable.  I want to have conversations with folks who don’t speak English.  I want to connect with people, not just English-speaking people.

On I go.

Last November I passed the Level One course (A1).  I was told that I had to pass A2 to participate in conversation sessions at Amal, an organization that welcomes newcomers to Belgium.

Today I went to their website and read this:

For whom?  Anyone who has obtained A1 and wants to practice Dutch

I was wrong.

So … I promise to attend one of these conversations before I leave for England on June 21.

So there!

Here’s the view from the terrace at the back of my apartment … over the Leie River to the Ghent River Hotel and beyond.

Ever since moving here, I’ve loved the red brick, the red tile rooves, the long view to homes far away.  Take the round smokestack on the hotel building.  It’s so round!  And old!  And symmetrical!

At least it was a perfect cylinder … until a plant started growing on the left end.  At first I was offended by the momentum of nature.  I no longer had the balance I enjoy.

As I matured into Gent residency over the last few months, I came to accept the thrust of greenness at the top of my smokestack.  I tolerated it.

But then there was yesterday.  Perhaps I’ve been blind for the last two weeks but I hadn’t noticed the blossoms.  Yellow!  Brilliantly so.

Sudden beauty

A shock to the system

Being at home

I have news for you.  It’s raining in Belgium!   Even though I miss the snow of Canada, I enjoy the pitter patter of drops on my coat’s hood.

I am surrounded by folks holding a curvy thing above their heads.  I wonder what aliens would think if their first visit was during a rainstorm.  “What’s with all these round colours above each of these strange beings?”

I love curves – in the flow of a street, on the shoreline of a bay, in the beauty of a woman’s body.  Today’s curves are above heads.  Are they a protection?  Are they a holding?  Are they a blessing?

It’s true that umbrellas keep the storm at arm’s length.  But there’s also a sense of sanctuary, of a cozy space beneath.  And when two are under a large umbrella, there is often love.

It’s really pouring now.  I’m tucked into a couch in Izy Coffee but soon I will venture forth.  Do I wish for blue skies?  They’re marvelous but they’re not at home in this moment.  My umbrella emerges from my backpack …

And we’re off!

I could have used the word “fatigue” or maybe “exhaustion” but they don’t live in this body of mine.

This is not a tale of woe, a “poor me” or a plea for pity.  My sinking muscles and bones are just the way it is right now.  I’m fascinated with the current state of Bruce. 

Beyond the reality of today’s body, all is well.  I also remind myself that “All things must pass.”  The spring in the step will return.

In the spirit of figuring things out, I see three causes of my slump:

1.  Practicing my cello leading up to our May 25 concert

2.  Hosting my nephew Jagger for 17 days

3.  Studying Dutch as I peak for the June 8 final exam

Reasons for may have some interest but I choose to simply live in this lovely bag of flesh … moment-to-moment.  It’s a privilege to have a body and feel it working well in my 70’s.

Keep going, you arms and legs and everything else

I woke up a few days ago with a question on my lips:

What song shall I sing next?

As I look at the rest of my life, I see singing.  I see many marvelous songs written by other people … memorized by my brain and given to audiences.  It’s the strongest image that comes, even bigger than my future love Elise.

The song that appeared recently was “Did She Mention My Name?” written and sung by the Canadian legend Gordon Lightfoot.  There was no analysis of why that one, merely a nod that it was the right one.

As I started learning the lyrics yesterday, they were familiar.  Is that because I listened to Gord’s rendition so many times or did I try to memorize the words in my deep dark past?

The next open mic session in Gent is on Friday, June 7 … nine days away.  Is that enough time to thoroughly learn the song?  Maybe.  Do I play it safe and sing something else that I know better?  (No)  Or do I give the folks “Mention My Name” come hell or high water – even if forgotten lyrics and some out-of-tuneness?  (Yes)

“Do it up big, Bruce!  Sing what’s demanding to be sung.”

Here are the words.  They’ll be heard on the Sint-Salvatorstraat on a Friday night near you …

It’s so nice to meet an old friend and pass the time of day
And talk about the hometown a million miles away
Is the ice still on the river?
Are the old folks still the same?
And by the way, did she mention my name?

Did she mention my name just in passing?
And when the morning came, do you remember if she dropped a name or two?
Is the home team still on fire?
Do they still win all their games?
And by the way, did she mention my name?

Is the landlord still a loser?
Do his signs hang in the hall?
Are the young girls still as pretty in the city in the fall?
Does the laughter on their faces still put the sun to shame?
And by the way, did she mention my name?

Did she mention my name just in passing?
And when the talk ran high, did the look in her eyes seem far away?
Is the old roof still leaking when the late snow turns to rain?
And by the way, did she mention my name?

Did she mention my name just in passing?
And looking at the rain, do you remember if she dropped a name or two?
Won’t you say hello from someone?
They’ll be no need to explain
And by the way, did she mention my name?