Hello there. Thank you for stopping by this page. It's been awhile since my last post. Today in Lancaster, PA it is 68 degrees. Such a change from the 30 degree weather we have been experiencing and it is glorious. I had an interview today in the city. (cross your fingers and knock on wood) So I was somewhat forced to get out of bed, fix my hair and leave the cave. As I walked through the streets of historic downtown, flower petals settled on my clothes and hair as the wind wrapped around me. The sunlight lit my face and warmed my heart.
As I walked to and from my interview I had flashbacks of my friend. My friend who has left this city and bound on a walk. Yes, a walk. This friend is one of extraordinary efforts. He is my age, without a cell phone, barely electricity as he writes by candlelight, no car, no use for anything but nature and his thoughts. I know he would not appreciate me writing about him, but nonetheless, I must.
I worked with this individual for some time. Our friendship grew from stress and frustration of the job. Venting to one another to ease the days woes. From there he grew to understand my unhappiness living here which is deep rooted. Not just Lancaster, not just Pennsylvania, but everything it represents in my past. Something which I have found very hard to let go of, my fault. So he urged me to explore the city which he found happily rooted in for his own purposes. Walk he said. Observe and be one with what the city has to offer and let go of what you think it does not. And so we walked.
We walked through cobblestone streets and buildings that told a story that couldn't be explained. We sat in parks and drank coffee. (Which by the way I don't drink but he turned me on to very slowly) We read 1st edition books in the sunlight and even walked in the rain to find a destination to sit and talk about the meaning of life. He was a person who shared who he really was. There was this person at work in his work facade and then there was this person that I was able to meet. A person who questioned existence and yet knew his purpose.
He was sharing with a person who was truly lost. Is truly lost. He was trying to help me find the light in all of the darkness and yet I was and always have been the stubborn one.
After I left that job he would leave letters and notes in my mailbox. Urging me to get out of the house and break from my vices. Offering a listening ear and a hope in the midst of my madness. I remember the first letter I wrote back. I hadn't left my apartment in weeks. I had started so many letters and had thrown so many away as I didn't really know what to say. I had disappeared. To this friend who I had spent time with and also had the honor of meeting his amazing family, I was the one who had disappeared and for no reason.
I tucked my letter neatly signed at the bottom is a plain white envelope marked with his name. It was raining. I remember reaching my hand out from underneath the umbrella and feeling the raindrops fall into my palm. The feeling of being relevant. I could smell the rain, I could feel the rain and I was finally out from the rock I had crawled under, all because of my friend.
My friend who urged me to sit on my rooftop and read in the sunlight. Remember my love of ancient books and classical music. My friend who is on a walk, on foot with nothing but his backpack and a love for this World.
His last letter to me explained that he was leaving for his journey this month and he was unsure if he would return. I want to write a letter, but to where? This friend who I found a connection with unlike any other, where could you be? As I walked through those streets today, it was the thought of him that made me stop and appreciate where I was. I, Blondesheep was one in the world. Those flower petals were falling on me. I am relevant, I do exist.
My fondest memory with my friend was the first time we walked the Conestoga River. I had tubed down it earlier last year but that's a bunch of drinking buddies floating in dirty water watching nature pass you by. On this day, I really got to know my friend. For the first time I had someone actually and genuinely ask me about who I am. "Why do you write" he asked me. I was taken aback. Someone who truly is asking about the real me. It was glorious.
Then the most magical moment happened. As we were walking, admiring the beauty of the ever expanding trees, the intricate webs from hard working spiders and mindless passerby's... we came across two fawns grooming each other. We stopped and admired. They stood in their spot in the woods and admired us back. It felt like centuries went by. Lifetimes maybe. To be in that moment of nature's glory, was truly inspiring. I wanted to take a picture on my phone to remember the moment. But my friend was against pictures and surely against social media. So instead I closed my eyes briefly and took in that moment. The smells, the sounds, the sight. I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life and I am thankful that picture is embedded in MY mind and for me to hold tight in my heart for the rest of my days.
Yes, I miss my friend. I can only hope he returns with his enlightenment and will be willing to share his journey with me. I hope for days in the park re-reading the books he has left for me. I hope to continue to know him. He brings out a side of me that only he knows how to access. Yes I miss my friend. I can only hope he is safe and I think I will write that letter. I'll drop it off in the only mailbox I know and hope he returns.
If you have a friend you are missing, I urge you to reach out because you never know when they might just go on a really long walk.
Cheers,
Blondesheep
As I walked to and from my interview I had flashbacks of my friend. My friend who has left this city and bound on a walk. Yes, a walk. This friend is one of extraordinary efforts. He is my age, without a cell phone, barely electricity as he writes by candlelight, no car, no use for anything but nature and his thoughts. I know he would not appreciate me writing about him, but nonetheless, I must.
I worked with this individual for some time. Our friendship grew from stress and frustration of the job. Venting to one another to ease the days woes. From there he grew to understand my unhappiness living here which is deep rooted. Not just Lancaster, not just Pennsylvania, but everything it represents in my past. Something which I have found very hard to let go of, my fault. So he urged me to explore the city which he found happily rooted in for his own purposes. Walk he said. Observe and be one with what the city has to offer and let go of what you think it does not. And so we walked.
We walked through cobblestone streets and buildings that told a story that couldn't be explained. We sat in parks and drank coffee. (Which by the way I don't drink but he turned me on to very slowly) We read 1st edition books in the sunlight and even walked in the rain to find a destination to sit and talk about the meaning of life. He was a person who shared who he really was. There was this person at work in his work facade and then there was this person that I was able to meet. A person who questioned existence and yet knew his purpose.
He was sharing with a person who was truly lost. Is truly lost. He was trying to help me find the light in all of the darkness and yet I was and always have been the stubborn one.
After I left that job he would leave letters and notes in my mailbox. Urging me to get out of the house and break from my vices. Offering a listening ear and a hope in the midst of my madness. I remember the first letter I wrote back. I hadn't left my apartment in weeks. I had started so many letters and had thrown so many away as I didn't really know what to say. I had disappeared. To this friend who I had spent time with and also had the honor of meeting his amazing family, I was the one who had disappeared and for no reason.
I tucked my letter neatly signed at the bottom is a plain white envelope marked with his name. It was raining. I remember reaching my hand out from underneath the umbrella and feeling the raindrops fall into my palm. The feeling of being relevant. I could smell the rain, I could feel the rain and I was finally out from the rock I had crawled under, all because of my friend.
My friend who urged me to sit on my rooftop and read in the sunlight. Remember my love of ancient books and classical music. My friend who is on a walk, on foot with nothing but his backpack and a love for this World.
His last letter to me explained that he was leaving for his journey this month and he was unsure if he would return. I want to write a letter, but to where? This friend who I found a connection with unlike any other, where could you be? As I walked through those streets today, it was the thought of him that made me stop and appreciate where I was. I, Blondesheep was one in the world. Those flower petals were falling on me. I am relevant, I do exist.
My fondest memory with my friend was the first time we walked the Conestoga River. I had tubed down it earlier last year but that's a bunch of drinking buddies floating in dirty water watching nature pass you by. On this day, I really got to know my friend. For the first time I had someone actually and genuinely ask me about who I am. "Why do you write" he asked me. I was taken aback. Someone who truly is asking about the real me. It was glorious.
Then the most magical moment happened. As we were walking, admiring the beauty of the ever expanding trees, the intricate webs from hard working spiders and mindless passerby's... we came across two fawns grooming each other. We stopped and admired. They stood in their spot in the woods and admired us back. It felt like centuries went by. Lifetimes maybe. To be in that moment of nature's glory, was truly inspiring. I wanted to take a picture on my phone to remember the moment. But my friend was against pictures and surely against social media. So instead I closed my eyes briefly and took in that moment. The smells, the sounds, the sight. I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life and I am thankful that picture is embedded in MY mind and for me to hold tight in my heart for the rest of my days.
Yes, I miss my friend. I can only hope he returns with his enlightenment and will be willing to share his journey with me. I hope for days in the park re-reading the books he has left for me. I hope to continue to know him. He brings out a side of me that only he knows how to access. Yes I miss my friend. I can only hope he is safe and I think I will write that letter. I'll drop it off in the only mailbox I know and hope he returns.
If you have a friend you are missing, I urge you to reach out because you never know when they might just go on a really long walk.
Cheers,
Blondesheep