Ordinary Places

Another morning comes to visit, ordinary, familiar, routine. A day like all others in which we dream of “other things.” Thoughts become creative of far off places, mystical characters, phenomenal events. Maybe thoughts of this beauty lie in the ordinary and routine . . . a beautiful, mystical ordinary place . . . a place people pass through daily unaware of the aura, the mystic . . . a place that when one stands within, their intentions connect instantly and strongly with the universe, and all they desire . . . good or ill . . . is granted. Yet because this space holds no marking of its mysticism, desires fulfilled are not connected with the sprawling oak tree that provides a shady expanse large enough for four to share a picnic on a sunny summer’s day or the small granite stone bench, large just enough, for two to share conversation. A spot in the city so ordinary no one even wonders why here there is this bench of fine gray granite . . . except one.

One singular soul who years ago, worn out, troubled, disillusioned with all life’s possibilities gave up under the sprawling oak tree. Gave up trying to make something of his life . . . pleasing his wife, his children . . . worrying for his friends and cohorts. He sat down in the cold snow of late January against the oak tree and thought, “I’m done. Whatever my life is to be, just let it be . . . my wife, my children, let them be happy. Whether I am part of that happiness or not . . . and my friends, let them all fall away and return when we both desire to share company. . . no more and no less.” In that moment the man felt a warm breeze come down from above in the tree’s branches and wash over him as if taking these thoughts of his and carrying them off.

For how long he sat, he did not know. In that time all that had occupied him felt on that warm wind falling farther and farther away. He began to feel the tree at his back supporting the length of his frame, the ground cold yet solid beneath him. He looked up through the bare branches of winter in the oak tree and let out a sigh. “I’m done.”

A warm nose touched his cheek, caught him by surprise. “Hey, boy, you alone? Lost?“ A voice from beside the tree replied, “No, Chester and I were just finishing our morning walk. You okay?” The man shook his head and said, “Yes, I suppose.” the last weight falling away in total submission. “Well, you look in need of a hot coffee and conversation. Join me please? There is a coffee shop not far from here.” In that moment, the time it took to complete that sentence, the man felt connected, felt awe, felt life.

He reached his hand out to the stranger. The stranger reached down and helped the man up, Chester wagging a tail of agreemen. Together they walked in conversation toward hot coffee.