8/25, Tues morning, go to the grocery store to get some groceries for my 97 year old buddy, Katherine Carter. In the check out line, just behind me is a strong looking African American man with a Native American bead necklace and a hat that looks like something Huck Finn would wear on the Mississippi, a beat-up, dinged in the front straw hat that needed a feather tucked in where the band of the hat might be, but no feather and no band. Just a remarkable hat with stories to tell, I’m sure.
As soon as our eyes met, I felt this man’s energy and it was remarkable. So I dallied near the door to the store to put my change back in my purse. I always do this when I’m in that store since I feel safer having my wallet open inside rather than outside the store. And he caught up to me as I finished putting the billfold back in my purse. He stepped aside to let me go first out the grocery store. And I ask him about the necklace. It is Native American and his mother gave it to him. He is very interested in Native American spirituality though. But no, he is not Native American. But he is a man, he told me. I told him I could see that. And a strong man, I added. And so I followed him and asked if he was studying with any teacher. He said no. But he talked with animals. All sorts of Animals but red tailed hawks. I told him that I talk with plants and a tree healed me the day before, sheepishly I told him that. We bonded on that. I told him that I’d be happy to loan him Jamie Sam’s Medicine Cards. He was happy about that.
I invited him to one of our potlucks that we do with Jasmine, my illustrious spiritual teacher whom I’m royally questioning right now. (obviously I’m not questioning her to the point of thinking I’ll never attend one of her potlucks – or am I? I’m really lost about this, so confused…) He did not know what a potluck was. I explained it to him. He’s trying to get back to the roots and is grilling fish in his backyard over a pit that he made. I asked him if he caught the fish. He buys it at the grocery store. I teased him that he caught it at the grocery store.
We share our names and he tells me that his name is Joseph. His other name is Holland, like the country. But his first name is Holland since he was a Holland before he was a Joseph. That’s the truth. He wanted me to know that truth. I told him that there are many truths. He may come to potluck.
My Facebook Status report – before shutting the computer off to leave:
“heading to the beach to listen to the great mother, again… this deep soul work of darkness calls me to the waves and water and openness to pour out the sorrow that is coming up like a geyser… the path of healing within can be a treacherous cauldron of muck… i’m grateful for my car, my friends and Creator and Earth Mother as they buoy me through this.. and may my kitties forgive me for deserting them again…”