i received two gifts of ordinary objects last week from an old friend. one was an out-of-print first edition, two volumes, of hiking the appalachian trail, plus a book about hiking the pacific crest trail. now, he didn't give me these books because he new my love for backpacking -- he let me borrow them because of what he thought unique about each one of those books - and their perspectives - that he wanted to share with me. i was thrilled, and deeply touched, mainly because i love to share, but also because he had that extra thought in his mind specifically about how i would experience something.
but can this wanting to share get me into trouble? i was at a bar the other evening, listening to a very creative banjo player. a man approached me and we started to chat. i'd bought a CD and paid $5 extra because the musician had no change. this man bought a CD but paid a little less because he didn't have enough cash. once we shared this story, and than man found out that he could buy a CD because of me - all things balance in the end - he offered to buy me a beer. at first i said no -- i'd already had one and i wasn't there to drink, but then decided that sure this man can buy me a beer because i wanted to continue to experience this interaction. he went off, and i continued to sway to the music. the man came back, i took the beer, we clinked bottles. i took a drink. i was at peace. after about 5 minutes. i thought jumped into my mind...i did not watch this guy get me the drink, did he put something in it? should i continue to drink it? i found this upsetting, because it was a learned response, not a feeling response. i felt no caution when talking to him before. i felt kindness in sharing our small interaction of this world. i decided this was not a instance where caution had to prevail.
last week, in preparation for my drive to long island to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew - just in from japan, i took my '95 jetta in for an oil change - and whatever else it needed (it's a grand 'ole car). it'd been a while (~6 months) since i'd taken a long drive. upon checking out, jeff, the head mechanic/shop owner, mentioned i should write a book about the travels of my car. he keeps tabs on my trips - chuckling every time i tell him where i'm taking my 15 year old car. this, too, makes me chuckle. and he's right -- the trips that car has taken...and the many passengers with me (mostly dogs) -- documentation is in order. not right now, though.
i was up in the woods close to my home the other day - at day fall. i was standing upon the highest hill in rochester, looking down upon the city roads that i traveled many times in all sorts of weather, daylight, and dark. this time, through the leafless trees, i saw the streets lit by streetlamps. it took me a while to identify which were which, because it was different looking at them from this perspective. it was fascinating. it was mesmerizing. pretty. i felt different. i felt interesting.
upon walking away from the hill, toward home, a old rattling car turned the corner in front of me. the exhaust, the oldness, reminded me of the blue hornet we kids were shuttle around in by my mother. another smile. another deep memory. another new thought of an old familiar something.
one last change of a growing thought: my nephew at 3. my nephew at 2. beautiful always. ever changing.
