I sang two songs at Salvatore’s last night – “Remember When The Music” and “Song For A Winter’s Night”.  The first was a lament that we don’t get together in living rooms anymore to make music … with our guitars, fiddles and voices.

Remember when the music
Brought the night across the valley
As the day went down
And as we’d hum the melody
We’d be safe inside the sound
And so we’d sleep
We had dreams to keep

The second is a Canadian winter love song, full of snow and soft light …

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin’
The mornin’ light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin’

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
On this winter’s night with you

***

And now my voice turns towards Friday, February 6 – the next Salvatore’s evening.  It’s time to choose another song to learn.

And three words come: “When I Dream”.  The lyrics are sung by a woman.  The recording is of Nanci Griffith.  And I yearn to sing my heart as a female heart.  It’s beyond understanding another gender.  Somehow it’s even beyond empathy.

But I want these words to emerge from my mouth:

I can be the singer
Or the clown in every room
I can even call someone
To take me to the moon
I can put my makeup on
And drive the men insane
I can go to bed alone
And never know his name

***

Make it so, Bruce

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=EFKzkEpNejw&si=SEbih_OfFjdfvOYe

(Lydia and Luc)

My dear friend Lydia and her partner Luc invited me to join them, her children Lore and Baziel, their beloveds Florian and Margot, and Lydia’s mom Marie-paule.

On New Year’s Day in Maarkedal.  Lovely.  I was eager to go.

On Tuesday, December 30 I got a text from Florian, saying that he was looking forward to seeing me on New Year’s Eve.

Huh?

I wrote back, saying that I was invited to come on Thursday, not Wednesday.

And then my mind slowly unravelled, remembering past times when I was excluded … and knowing that this was another one.

On New Year’s Eve I sat at home, imagining the party that everyone but me was enjoying.  The sadness enveloped my body and soul.

Luc picked me up at the Ronse train station early Thursday afternoon.  I was still sad.  Then he mentioned that on Wednesday evening he and Lydia had been at her friend Ann’s place.

Huh?  I thought about the party I wasn’t invited to.

The one that didn’t exist

Florian had simply got the date wrong.  My mind did the rest.  Silly mind.

The eight of us had a marvelous time on New Year’s Day … exquisite food and drink, lovely conversations, and Lydia gave me a bright red tie – my favourite colour.

(Sigh)

I am humbled once again

And included

As so the year begins.  Will it be like most years … some things better, some worse?  Hopefully an overall improvement by the end.

Or …

A transformation, as in “a marked change in form, nature or appearance”.

I look back at my life and marvel at the changes.

In 2003, Mike Weir won the Masters, one of the most prestigious golf tournaments.  A few days after, he was back in Canada and I was one of many at an event where Mike was celebrating his win.  I was an obsessed golfer, both on the course and in front of the TV.

Now it’s 2026 and I don’t care about golf.

***

I was hiking on a trail in July, 2017, face-to-face with the Canadian Rockies.  I loved the mountains, with a long history of exploring the wilderness.  I was living in a village in Eastern Canada.  Maybe I would stay there forever, or perhaps a mountain town would beckon.

By the way, Europe was something I saw in movies.  I had about zero desire to actually go there.  Future vacations sounded like the Caribbean.

Now it’s 2026 and I’ve been living in Belgium for three years.  Huh?  I’ve changed countries.

***

What then are the chances that something radically different will enter my life this year?  Unlikely?  So were Belgium’s appearance and golf’s disappearance.

I’m up for it, whatever the it is.  Perhaps I have a future in exotic dancing!  (Hmm … okay, that’s a stretch)

But I sense something is around the corner

Waiting to be discovered

This morning I was reading in Tricycle magazine about the city of Chiang Mai in Thailand.  The article was aimed at the Buddhist traveller, and described six temples and other holy sites.  The writing was an immersion for me even though I’m 12,000 kilometres away.

I grew up in Toronto, Canada – certainly a multicultural city, but also one where about 50% of the residents are Christian. 

Tricycle has a series of articles about Buddhism in various parts of the world.  Here’s what the magazine has to say about Thailand:

92 percent of its residents are Buddhist!  A completely different spiritual world from the one I know.

I’ve spent a few weeks in New York City.  On one of my visits, I stayed in the borough of Queens, where 150 languages are spoken.  Marvelous.  For New York City as a whole, here is the breakdown of religions represented (in 2014):

So … my Canadian and American experience has centred on the dominance of Christianity.  What would I be feeling walking the streets of Chiang Mai?

And in June or July, an spiritual immersion of another type is on my menu.  I’ll be attending my friend Prabigya’s wedding in Nepal, where about 80% of the population is Hindu.

Time for my eyes to open more widely

Time for the brand new

A Facebook post caught my eye this morning.  The photo on the right felt part of my history … and it was.  I bought the book “Gramp” decades ago, and gave it away a decade later, along with virtually all my books, DVDs and CDs.

Today I read this:

In 1974, a young man of 23 made a choice that left everyone around him astonished.  While his peers chased careers, friendships and romances, Dan Jury chose a different path: he moved his 81-year-old grandfather, Frank Tugend, out of a sterile nursing home and into his modest apartment, dedicating himself to full-time caregiving.  This decision, viewed by some family members as a waste of youth, became a profound journey of compassion, patience and understanding.  Day after day, Dan learned to navigate the intimate tasks of care – bathing, administering medications, and offering comfort through moments of fear and confusion – lessons no job or social engagement could ever teach.

I no doubt was brought to silence when I first encountered “Gramp”, and the same is true now.  What a gift was given.

And what about now?  I’m about to begin a volunteering career at a care home in Gent.  Will I be a giver?  I say “Yes” … and also a receiver. 

Even though I’m as old as some of the residents, I have been blessed with good health and a kind heart.  There’s a future for us all … together.  I can feel it.

In the spirit of repurchasing things, I went to Amazon Belgium to find “Gramps”.  It was there.  For 352 euros.  I think not.

***

Thank you, Dan Jury, for your love

You inspired me long ago

And today

Shunryu Suzuki was a monk who in the 1960’s popularized Zen Buddhism in the United States.  He founded the San Francisco Zen Center and wrote Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind.

Ryuko Laura Burges tells a story about Shunryu:

A student entered Suzuki’s room at Zen Center not long before he died, and they bowed to each other.  Suzuki was very weak, but he looked into his student’s eyes and said firmly, “Don’t grieve for me.  Don’t worry.  I know who I am.”

I wonder if I do … know who I am.

Sometimes I ask myself what adjectives describe me.  The answer usually comes “kind and determined”.  So is that who I am? 

I sense that the only descriptions that matter are ones that include other people.  I am connected with you.  I could choose the words “I am a singer” but they only ring true when I’m singing to other people.

Then again, maybe I’m often so loose in the brain cells that the word “I” doesn’t resonate.  “Knowing” feels pretty elusive too.

***

So, Shunryu …

Sometimes I know who I am

And in other moments

I am drifting in the mystery of it all

I like shapes.  And I wonder if my spiritual life has been touched by objects that appear in my day.

When I lived in Canada, I often enjoyed a hamburger at Wendy’s.  The juicy quality was vivid … and there was something else: the patties were square.

Years after first encountering Wendy’s, I read about Dave Thomas, the company’s founder.  He loved his grandma, and she often gave him good advice.  Such as …

Quality’s everything, David.  Remember that.  If people keep cutting corners, this country’s going to be in big trouble

And so square burgers became a symbol of being thorough, of ensuring the customer has an excellent experience.

***

Two months ago my old ear buds started shorting out so I went on the Internet to find a cool wireless version.  For some strange reason, I let them sit in their box for a couple of weeks, looking very rectangular.  But what emerged from the package was anything but:

So elegant.  And since starting to use them, their curves have seeped into my soul.  Along with the smoothness, and the shine.

There’s also the ease of opening, revealing the jewels inside:

The buds are comfy in my ears, and when it’s time to return home they simply click into place … magnetic.  It’s a sublime wow.

Like a yummy burger at Wendy’s, I am comforted as I touch the white case.  Naturally, sweet interactions with other human beings transcend the beauty of objects.

But every little bit helps

I took an early bus from Gent to Evergem, and had lots of time before my haircut at Kapsalon Joyce.  So why not explore?

At a side street intersection I saw a sign: Gerardsmolen.  I didn’t know what it meant and Google Translate felt like too much of an effort.  So along a cobblestone path I began …

Soon the meaning revealed itself – a windmill (molen).  You’ll see a pic at the end of this post.  But the real story for me was yet to emerge.

A playground for all of us!  Especially the young ones.  Here we have two swings for the kids to fly high, and one safe one for the wee human beings.  In the background, a colourful slide with a sandy landing.

How about climbing up, climbing down, and crawling through?  And don’t forget the net on the left, which may leave you dangling in the air.

The slide again, loops for hand-over-hand strength moves, and …

The best of the best

A junior zip line!

Hang on tight and feel the wind in your hair

***

I was mightily impressed.  I bet some kids thought this up.  Whoever did the deed … congratulations.  Adventure.  Determination.  Fun.

***

And, oh yes – the windmill.  Very nice.  But it’s not what opened my eyes.

I was having breakfast this morning in a delightful new restaurant on the Langement – Lloyd Coffee Eatery.

A wee dog was enjoying life with their human mom and dad.  I saw person after person sitting or walking nearby brighten to see the little bouncing being.  Huge smiles.  Hands reaching out to pet this doggie who was standing on hind legs with tail wagging.

I didn’t catch any of these moments of contact but here’s an approximation from the Internet:

And I thought … the most powerful being in this restaurant right now is a dog!  Making a difference so naturally.

***

As I returned to the yumminess before me, I glanced up sometimes to drink in the infinite variety of human beings before me.  Tables full of family and friends, black-shirted employees scurrying around delivering orders and clearing tables.

Such a good vibe.  Such aliveness.

One person in particular caught my attention – a server.  She seemed to be dancing.  At one point her partner was a rag and a bottle of cleaner.  No doubt the table had no chance of staying dirty!

And I watched her with people.  Gesturing wildly to a colleague during a conversation.  Hands way high as she explained something to a new customer.

Again the Internet:

A bounce in her step.  No doubt a lilt in her voice.

She’s like the dog!  The dog is like her!

Kindred spirits

How marvelous

May we all feel the joy, move the body … dance

If we add together all of the times when we do not experience life fully because desire and attachment keep us from being present.  And all the times that we try to separate from what is, out of anger or fear.  And all the times that we are spaced out, we end up with a pretty big pile of moments.  What is left over is a tiny parcel of mindful moments when we are fully alive, not lost in clinging, resisting or disconnecting.  This is a shockingly limited way to live.

I forgot to write down who said this.  And that’s okay.  Someone did.

The writer challenges me.  Right now I’m sitting in Lloyd Coffee Eatery, tapping my words to you.  I am awake in my message.  However I’m surrounded by other human beings enjoying their beverages and friends.  I need to cast my gaze on them as well, and send them blessings.  And so I put down my phone for awhile …

***

That was good.  So many folks enjoying Christmas Day together.

Being awake doesn’t just mean sitting in meditation, open in silence to the vastness of life.  It also includes many other moments, ones that can also be bathed in light, if we have the eyes to see.

For too much of my day, I’m walking around with those eyes closed, doing this or that by rote, not seeing.

I ask myself if there’s one thing I can contemplate to remind myself of the grand, to bring more hours of aliveness to my day.  What comes is this:

In the times when I’m with people, look softly into their eyes, even though mostly they won’t be taking in mine

And balance those times with being alone, creating moments that raise me up

***

May I choose a shockingly lovely way to live