I was going to write about choosing a song to sing … but that can wait till tomorrow.  I have been taken over.

Milan-Sanremo is happening right now, and it’s pulling on my heartstrings.  This is a 288-kilometre men’s bicycle race in northern Italy that’s celebrating its 115th edition.  It’s one of five Monuments – the oldest  and most prestigious of the one-day races on the men’s calendar.

The picture above shows the finish in 2017 – Michal Kwiatkowski bulling ahead of his sprint rivals.  An amazing photo.

Many of world’s best riders are here today.  And on the climbs of the Cipressa and Poggio – both etched in cycling history – all hell may break loose as one or more of them attacks, furiously plunging the pedals down to blast past the others.

My nose will be pressed against the TV screen.  I wish I was the one on that bicycle, supremely fit, sweat pouring off my brow.  Alas, my time for sporting heroics has passed.  But the sweat and pumping legs still show up every few days – on the elliptical.

***

Now at home.  The lead group of nine riders is five kilometres from the base of the Cipressa climb.  Some of the streets through little towns are so narrow, and packed with cheering and clapping.

The big group of cyclists (the peleton) are closing in on the leaders … less than a minute now.

The colours of the riders’ jerseys treat the eyes.  Some camera angles show the incredible speed.  The snake writhes.

No attacks on the Cipressa but here comes the Poggio.  About ten cyclists separate themselves from the others.  Then Tadej Pogacar attacks!  Mathieu van der Poel stays with him.  My heart has left for the heavens.  Seeing the two of them give everything.

Now a five kilometre descent to the finish line.  Daredevils around every curve.  And then a group sprint … Jasper Philipsen edges the next guy by a few centimetres!  Whew.  I love this.

I also loved the smiles afterwards.  The second and third place finishers were real in their comradeship with Jasper.  True smiles.

One thing about moving from Canada to Belgium – my old sports aren’t available on TV: ice hockey and basketball.  And it is so not important.  I’m loving the flow of bikes over the land.

I’m home in so many ways

It’s a poem written in 1927 by Max Ehrmann.  It has cuddled me on and off since my 20’s.  And I wrote about it in these pages in 2019:

“There must have been one too many moves in my nomadic youth, because The Desiderata left me one day.  I don’t even remember missing it.  My walls filled instead with paintings – visual heart-tuggings rather than the majesty of the phrase.  I didn’t think of Max’s masterpiece for decades.”

“But the man has returned.  He smiles at me once more.  And it’s all so gentle.  Not all of the sentences still shimmer, and that’s okay.  The whole has guided me over the years, and I didn’t even know it.  A magical absorption was at work.  And I am the better for the words having roamed around within me for so long.”

***

And now I return to those words.  Age 75 rather than 25.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

I don’t want to be placid.  Sometimes I want to be explosive.  I still revere silence but two people speaking our truths to each other, in deep connection, moves me more.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

I realize that I won’t be close to every person who comes my way … because some want to hang back, in the shadows, far from my soul.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Yes, saying it quietly is fine.  What’s crucial is to say it, without antagonism, without concern that I’ll be rejected for my words.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

Nothing has changed here in fifty years.  Being in the presence of complainers and excluders still is poison.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

No, I disagree.  Your abilities in one area of life may be more than mine, your contribution to life there more encompassing, but we are each expressions of Divinity.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

I have fewer plans now.  I feel pulled toward the future, towards the growing goodness of it, but the painting has not yet been created.  And my career as a teacher is in the past, even though I believe my presence in others’ lives often teaches.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

I see heroes every day.  They kneel down to help.  They lift us high.  Far sweeter than the ordinary exploits of famous people.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Same.  True love blesses the loved one.  It enfolds.  And it is always available if called upon.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

However … despite the stiffness of the body I choose to continue dancing.  The arms still need to fly up to the sky.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

My fears still come but they don’t plunge as deep.  And as Mark Twain said, “I have spent most of my life worrying about things that have never happened.”

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

Damn it, I do!  This is my home, as it is yours.  We get to put our feet up on the couch and shout from the rooftop.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Unfold away, dear universe. I’m with you on the journey … to God knows where.  There is beauty ahead, a deep contact with other travellers, a magnificent belonging.

***

Some things change, Max, and some don’t

For years I’ve had various words in my head that teach me how to live.  I don’t know where they come from … but they’ve definitely been there.

Some of them show me the moment, and ask me to stay there.  This is a prime example (as opposed to that).  So I’ve often awakened with the word on my lips, especially if I’m grumpy on the waking.  I could cover my distress with a fake smile but that isn’t this.

Many of the words that bubble up from nowhere are about how I want to treat my fellow human beings, such as Light the world.  I want my presence to be glowing, not darkening.  Perhaps I can show one way to pass through a gloomy wood.

This morning my eyes opened once more … this time to a new thought:  “I could utter a single word every time someone is willing to make eye contact with me: Love.”  It would be a love broader than the beauty of “I love you”.  It would be love that falls like a mist, that embraces us all.

And now my experiment has started.  I connected this way with a friend of mine, with the word silent and present.  And then with another friend. 

I offered the word to two strangers, and the love was not returned.  That’s okay.  They didn’t know what I was giving.

“Keep offering, Bruce”

I will

It’s a good way to live

Sometimes I sit down with no idea what I’ll write.  But over the years I’ve learned to trust that a topic will be revealed … something beyond my choosing.  Something important to life.

And right now there’s nothing but a smile on my face.

Do I have to write every day?  No

Do I want to write every day?  Yes

***

I was in my music theory class this morning.  Last week, Mattias gave us an assignment.  For a certain song, figure out the intervals between the notes (such as Do to Mi – a “third” in English).  And I had done the homework.

Two hours ago, I couldn’t remember what the song was.  And there was something special there – feeling loose, unbounded, unexpected.  My instant response to my not knowing was happiness.  How delightfully strange is that?!  Society would  expect me to feel bad, to lower my head in despair.  I’m not doing that.

The song title eventually entered my mind: “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”.  A few days ago, before I sat down at the piano, I guessed that the first note change in the piece was a third (Do to Mi).

Then my finger descended on the keys.  Turns out the first note change was Do to So – a fifth.  I was way off!  So wrong.  Not in the ballpark.

And … my face brightened in the moment.

***

How can being so wrong, or forgetting simple things, be so lovely?

I will live in the mystery, humming to myself

The quality of being honest and having strong moral principles

Long ago I committed to living this way.  Sometimes I am tested.

A few nights ago I went to a playreading at Gregor Samsa.  Some friends showed up, and some newbies.  We launched into Macbeth.

After two hours, we’d completed three Acts of five.  I was very tired and my back hurt.  I knew what would work for me – going home.  No heroics of endurance, just my bed.

I paid Harry for my drink and passed between the participants, saying “Goodnight everyone.”

One woman, who is also my neighbour, asked me to drop into her store.  We talked for a few seconds … and then I was out the door.

I woke up around 2:00 am.  And that was it for sleep.  I tossed and turned, flooded with guilt and sadness.

“Saying goodbye includes eye contact, Bruce!  What you did a few hours ago isn’t you.”

Except, in the moment, it was.

I couldn’t pull myself out of the sadness.  Finally I texted one of my friends who was at the reading and apologized.

After that action, slowly I recovered my soul.  Later that day I was fully back to life.

What a lesson.  I’m at a point in life where moments of being out-of-integrity hurt a lot.  I’m no perfect person.  Lapses will continue … but may they be few.

I need my sleep

And I need a wide open heart

Here come three runners, about 200 metres from the finish line of a six kilometre race.  But for most people that’s not the right word.  The competition is only with themselves.

From the right, you see my friend Rani, her dad Luc and her cousin Lara.  They ran the whole distance together, supporting each other.

A few months ago, Rani said “I’m doing this!  Even if I have to walk some of it.”  (Or words to that effect)

And she began training … slowly and no doubt unsurely.  Running in a race was a “first time” in her life.  Good for her.  May we all have lots of first times.

Yesterday at 2:30 pm was the launch time.  Before then, maybe a hundred folks stretched and jogged a bit, all decked out in their workout kits – some very colourful.

I talked to Rani’s brother Jari about walking fast to an intersection that was about at the four kilometre point, so we could cheer on the tremendous trio.  Four of us set off when the runners did.

I knew we had reached the point in plenty of time to watch our heroes pass by.  But I knew wrong.  The organizers had changed the direction of the race loop.  Everybody was long gone!  (Sigh)

Only moderately distraught, I accompanied my companions to the end point – a football (soccer) stadium.  There waited Rani’s mom Karen and her aunt, whose name I can’t remember.

Then the moment you see.  After that, the announcer called out each runner’s name as they approached the finish line.  So cool! 

Athletes all.  And heroes.  Doing something magnificent, something that stretches so far beyond the daily round.

Well done, Rani … and everyone else

Self-applause is in order

About a week ago, I wrote a post called “This Was To Be the Day”.  In it I decided not to return to the gym then, after an absence of five weeks.  Still too tired.

Okay … today I am returning.  The week between feels like inertia.  That’s the word that comes, even though I can’t remember what it means.  It feels like “slowing” or “stuck”.  Let’s see what the dictionary says:

A tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged

Yep, that’s been me. 

In a few minutes, I’ll be walking through the door of Basic-Fit.  I’ll be putting on t-shirt and shorts again.  I’ll take down a gym mat and spend half-an-hour stretching.  And then on to the elliptical machine.  It’s an old friend that I’ve lost sight of recently.  I miss the rhythm of the arms and legs … the flow.

Cool.  I have no expectations of the upcoming session, other than putting on my gym clothes.  Everything beyond that will be a bonus.  Such a different feeling from, say, ten years ago.  Then if I hadn’t been working out for a few weeks, I would have pushed myself towards instant fitness.  So silly.  Such a waste of energy.

Now I am older and marginally wiser.

Here I go!  I’ll continue the story after my return.

***

I did it  >   I put my gym clothes on.

And there’s more.  The stretching of my arms, legs, back and neck was a blessing.  For the last few days, my leg muscles were so tight that it was painful to walk.  I stretched yesterday at home and then just now.  The tightness is less and I wouldn’t call it “pain” anymore.  Yay!

So the lesson is clear … this 70’s body needs exercise.  Any thought of “I’m past that stage of life” is ridiculous.

On to the elliptical.  I made a goal: stride for half the time (15 minutes vs. 30) at half to two-thirds the intensity.  It wasn’t a commitment.  It was a hoped for.  And I knew I’d be happy if I fell short.  It was just so cool to be back!

Oh … the flow of the machine – my arms pushing and pulling, my legs rotating.

I looked at the numbers on the little screen.  They were well below the usual.  “So what?” I laughed.  Did I really expect to pick up where I left off?

At about 14 minutes I knew I was near the end.  “Fifteen it is!”  A tiny part of me wanted to push to 18 but I waved it off.  No thanks.

***

If you could see me now as I sip my cappuccino, you’d take in a soft and wide smile.  Like this:

Salut!

Sometimes I go looking for smiles … luminous ones.  You know what they’re like: they touch you.  They reach you.

If I’m watching for these faces, I know what my best chance is – kids.  Yes, there are open-hearted smiles among us older folks, and I’ve included one at the end.  But children teach us.

I hope you enjoy these fine human beings

In my life, I’ve usually done well when tackling new things.  Understanding has come pretty easily.

Not now.  Not in Belgium.  (I wonder why I’m smiling)

It’s good to exercise my older brain.  Making new connections in there.  Keeping dementia far away.

If I’m right about all this brain activity within the new, dementia doesn’t have a chance with me.

Exhibit One – Cello Music

Here you see the musical staff of lines and spaces for the notes – treble clef on top and bass clef at the bottom.  But what the heck is that in the middle?  Mr. Google just helped me:

I had my cello lesson yesterday.  Lieven had given me a new piece called “Meditation”.  In the middle, the alto squiggle suddenly made an appearance.  Totally foreign to this mind.

On each of of the three staffs, the first note you see is C.  As a kid, everything was in the treble clef.  As an adult, when I started singing in a choir, the bass part was written in the bass clef.  And that’s also how cello music is written.

I look at the staff in the middle and right now it’s incomprehensible.  Like a foreign language, such as Turkish.  (Sigh)

Exhibit Two – Power of Attorney

I sat with a notary today and read through the English translation of my new Power of Attorney documents.  If dementia comes my way, my friend Lydia will make decisions about property and health.

Clearly I understand English.  And there are no horribly strange words in these sentences.  Some other passages were more difficult.  But it took so much effort to follow the formal language, the legalese.  Page after page of it.  I was soon exhausted.  Again “the new” was blasting my eyeballs.

Exhibit Three – Dutch

Right now I’m in despair about my ability to learn Dutch.  My dream about having a basic conversation with neighbours who don’t speak English seems in tatters.  I hear the words and grammar, I try to absorb them, and then they float away …

Here are a few sentences from one of today’s documents.  It’s written at a level of Dutch far beyond what I’m learning now but it feels like I’m looking at what you see in the second picture (an Arabic script).

***

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

That’s a lot of laughing at me

And it’s still a good life

I started going to silent meditation retreats in 2011.  In some moment, in one of them, these words softly entered my head:

Love them all … light the world

They’ve returned to my awareness so many times over the years.  They’ve shown up unbidden, in good times and bad … guiding me.

And so ever deeper – filling every blood vessel of my being.

What is the source of such a flow through time?  I don’t know.  The face is hidden from my sight.  And that’s fine.

Love them all.  Even the ones who send toxins my way.  I wonder if their parents did the same to them.

Do I live the words every minute of every day?  Of course not.  That’s when I fall down, turn my back, see only me in the mirror.  But someone reminds me, over and over again, of what I stand for.

***

Awakening

Falling asleep

And awakening once more