My blog posts have become a platform for my stream of thoughts. I view these thoughts as a conversation between my conscious and subconscious. They have acted as time in my day to engage in introspection, as well as awareness of my surroundings and self. Life can get to be so busy and flustered sometimes that I have cherished the time in which I can take a break. Should you chose to read through these posts I hope that what I have spilt out onto the pages resonate with you as they have with me.
Patience is not something directly taught, but directly viewed. You spoke of the word patience, and told me at times to be patience, but never said “let me show you.” Maybe that was your plan the whole time, hoping that I would catch onto the thing you had mastered, and I did. Now it is something we can see in each other as we grow into the individuals we are becoming.
It all started with Siddhartha and the way that book made me question so many things in my life. Questions that are still unanswered but the answers I got were influential. Your ability to tell a story is profound and really draws in a reader. You books brought me back to when I was a kid staying up late to finish the book I was reading, suspense refusing my tired body to fall asleep. Thank you for rejuvenating the magic of literature.
You never spoke much, but that makes sense since both of your parents had passed away before you were 6. Thinking about it now you never really had to, you spoke through your actions. Maybe that’s why we always went to the movies, you let the actors do the talking. It now seems that you are trying to make up for the lack of conversation, I’ll do my part. It takes two for a conversation.
Late at night, almost every night of the week, I would find myself in your room, in your basement. Clouds of smoke circled the ceiling dissipating to who knows where. Iron and Wine sprang out of the vinyl player enticing our young minds. What started out as an unfamiliar tune quickly turned into a piece of me. Led Zeppelin and Neil Young soon joined us, followed by CSN and Bob.
The drooping flowers greeted me this evening as I returned from work. I’ll take any form of sincere acknowledgement that I can get. Sitting in a chair that is positioned directly across from the glass sliding door acts as a mirror that I’d rather not have to face. And then I venture off to rooms shared on Eugene, OR craigslist.
“Son, the Lord has called upon me to visit China. Maybe I’ll get to see the Great Wall.”