“You don’t miss the water till the well runs dry.” Its true you know, we often walk through this life without a moments consideration of the sweetness of that refreshing glass of friendship, or a steaming baths of homely comforts. Friendships of the higher nature, my yoga mat, peanut butter with one ingredient (PEANUTS!), grassy yards, clean water, poetry readings and alone time are just a few from my list of proverbial well waters that have, for the time being, run dry.
I recently found this saying in new light: If I was a yoga mat, my yoga mat, basically appreciated for its function, but perhaps never fully recognized for the fullness of its offering, I believe I would feel the lack. I would not mourn my plight nor focus of the superficiality of our relationship, but, one way or another, I would know something was missing. And, being that mat, I can just imagine the sweetness of the moment when someone prostrates themselves on my back, before almighty God, and find true gratitude for my gifts. They slip to their knees from the final postures of Surya Namaskar and fold into child’s pose. They lay their forehead neatly between my scapulas and release every muscle until they nearly kiss my spine. They will love the space I create for them because they have been without it for too long. They will root their bare feet into the earth through me, and bless the day they decided I was never to see the bottom of a shoe. While my true value will never be estimated, I will feel no lack and find a moment of fulfillment. I will be the well water, replenished.
So I am making another list, but this time I am going to record those things I do not lack, but will miss when I do. It will require a great deal of spiritual perception, reflections, and gratitude, to penetrate the veils imposed by everyday life and recognize the worth of those thing we tend to appreciate only after loosing. Essentially this task is to miss water… while drinking it.
What has inspired me on this course? Well, lately I’ve been feeling a lot like well water after a drought. We (Philip and I, as always) have returned to Kingston to find friends who treat us like prized yoga mats. I don’t know whether the reunions have given them an appropriate setting to express the appreciation they had all along or if the separation itself has increase the joy of our friendships, but the joy is there.
Friday night we arrived in the sandy park neighborhood right about sunset. Weaving between houses and shops we made our way along the narrow, uneven paths to the cluster of home where most of our friends are concentrated. We round the corner and start climbing the final steps to the first yard where friends live. We can already hear the sound of children playing, even over the loud hip-hop-dancehall beets being blasted out over the rooftops of the neighborhood. As we climb I can begin to pick out the voices and laughs of particular children as they echo down the steps towards us. The usual suspects alright, in all their wild-child-glory. “ah who dat de?...” one voice calls, but our reply is unnecessary. “See dem de, Philip an’ Mercy ah come!!” Crissy cries. A tidal wave of children and youth spill out of the yard and comes crashing down the steps. We are literally swarmed by children, jumping, hugging, yelling, high fiving, laughing and climbing up our backs. I expected such a welcoming on our first visit last Monday, but I kind of thought they would tire by the third time in five days. I was joyously mistaken. We spent the evening wrestling, dancing, handstanding and cartwheeling with Jr Youth, while carrying, tossing, flipping, and tickling the children. This poem is for them and their playful spirits.
I’ve found forgotten memories in untold futures
Searched for steady ground in hourglass sand dunes
Torn out wasp nests looking for honey and found it there
I’ve cartwheeled mud into the knees of my trousers at midnight with laughing children
You know, I’ve never lost sleep me following their spirit with them
And I’ve never lost spirit them following their dreams without me
They’re way too good at digging for wasp honey like it was forgotten pocket lint
Hourglasses might as well last an eternity because they’ve never seen the last sand fall
Their whole lives are untold futures, and they aren’t going to wait for someone else to tell it
Stories fall like sand and form honey combs under pillow cases where children rest their dreams and sleep their days into years
Cayman taught me many things, but from them all one in particular stands out. I was reminded of how rich and fulfilling the friendships we are striving to create must be. Even though my business is friendship, I don’t have to be so… “businessy.” Creating that richness is my responsibility, which I can’t expect anyone else to carry. I think that gratitude and compassion are two of the most might keys to the heart of a friendship. So, like I said, I’m making a list. I’m searching for the higher measure of gratitude that seems to elude us until the well runs dry, and trying to remember to some droughts never in this life.
If you think this is a "nice idea" make your own list, but don’t stop there. Figure out how you can express you gratitude for everyone and everything that you might not miss till they’re gone.
"STOP TRYING TO CATCH THE MOTH! You've injured its wing and if you catch it again it will likely die. Look how beautiful it is when you just watch it, see it's landed on the wall just so we can look at its beauty. Everyone look at the moth and I will take a photo."
