I was outside a few minutes ago. Dusk at the end of July calls upon a remembrance so great, I couldn’t resist sharing it.
Sometimes you have to relive the past, because that is where the majesty of where your spirit lives. As much as you want to push it toward the present, and a hopeful future, you have to willingly tread into the back waters.
Some years back, in May of 2007, I randomly met a man online. And I can’t even remember how, but it was so far ago, I think it might have been myspace🙂 But, we met, we exchanged emails. And a friendship was born. We found ourselves writing to each other daily, and before long, we began talking on the phone.
Our talks would begin in the early AM, before the sun woke. One of us would call the other, groggy talk and coffee in hand, we’d face east, wait for the sun, wait for the new day. There is a powerful moment in this. Each day the sun greets you can be construed as a blank canvas, a tabula rasa. Night, the moon, the stars, all allow you moment of deep reflection….but the sun brightly blasts all of that clean….and you can step into the world given another chance, another moment to make right what you recall hindering you at night.
With our work schedules we found ourselves calling each other just about at dusk in the late summer.
As the humid haze touched the strumming ligustrum leaves, we’d talk about whatever in the world God wished us to hold onto. The bats would dance in the air. Bouganvillas bloom, and crepe myrtles show their foliage, but it was the random vine moving wayward in its step holding as a prize her brilliant blooms for someone who was not there, reminding with each nettle that life blooms indirectly sometimes, not where you can see it, nor hold it, nor feel it….but, sometimes there in the corner where you least expect it.
It was a summer’s coming to a close that all things new in life became real. It was the time in my life when my spirit opened to new ideas, to new adventures. And I took them, ran with them, where the troubles of the mind were ceased, and in the stead of trembling, communion and connection brought release. It was the time in my life where all those ideas and concepts of spirituality finally made themselves actual.
We can pray, but are we prepared truly for when our prayers are answered? I needed a friend then. And I prayed for one.
He carried me with him on the phone through the Moab desert, and I carried him with me on my move back to Savannah. Every step of the day, every minute of the day, we carried each other over the phone on our journeys through life.
I knit socks for him. He wore Birkenstocks….so we called them Birken-socks. (clever, eh?). And in turn he sent me a yarn bag he had crocheted, some Nag Champa soap, and a copy of WREATHTHU. And inscribed on the front page? The testament that we had been learning. “As above, so below.”
Yes, that all you put in the mind will form itself into reality.
My knitting took off that year. Because the knitting wasn’t for me, it wasn’t for my own self gratification. My hands worked the needles for someone else. I was showing affection, care and concern for someone else. Not myself.
And I saw greater projects, better movement in these hands of mine. I saw all that I hoped for come real.
And life moves on. As it should. Things happen, situations change. We move on….Life plays itself as a burden sometimes, doesn’t it? Incidences like homelessness and constantly moving pull you away not only from material things, but from people, too. Hard to keep in touch when no one can figure out where you are sleeping that night.
And we lost contact.
I miss my friend. I truly do.
And all of this was brought about because I was sitting there on my front stoop, just as the dusk just shy of August descended upon me, reminding me of back waters, of old hopes, of an old friend that carried me with him through the desert….reminding me that I would not be the man that I am had it not been for a single voice heard through the dripping dusk of late July, of the contact made with a kindred when so desperately needed.As another day ends with the dusk just shy of august I’m reminded that new things are beginning in my life, my spirit is learning again, seeing all sorts of new possibilities. And I’m reminded of that voice on the phone from so long ago.
I wish him well, I wish him only love and joy.
Before I came inside to write this I faced west instead of east. And wished my friend all the best as the sun set into night….
“Until the day that 8x8x8 is 4”
This is the story of how I knit my way out of homelessness. To order an autographed copy of “Will Knit For Food” click here, or for a Limited Edition personalized, signed paperback copy with t-shirt, click here.
If you appreciate this blog and would like for it continue, please donate. Every dollar helps!