I know that I am mortal ...

"I know that I am mortal by nature, and ephemeral; but when I trace at my pleasure the windings to and fro of the heavenly bodies I no longer touch the earth with my feet."

— Ptolemy

Praying

It

doesn’t have to be

the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

-- Mary Oliver

Rest For The Weary

     Several weeks ago, my grandson and I drove to Rest For the Weary. Lost in thought, I passed the road that led to my brother's farm. We ended up going the long route from the opposite side. We snaked along a winding road until a worn and beaten path appeared. We slowly turned onto it. It was cold and wet; puddles were everywhere, and the potholes and ruts rattled our bones. 

     In the distance, we saw a cluster of trees. As we crept towards the farm, memories flooded my mind, and my skull became a tomb full of ghosts. Echoes of the past reverberated in my head, but Gabey brought me out of my reverie. "I hope we don't get stuck out here, gramps."

     "Especially with zombies roaming the countryside," I said, pretending to be frightened. We are obsessed with anything related to zombies, and it helped lighten my mood and ease my sorrow. 

     Finally, the road opened up to the abandoned farm. I said, "Keep your head on a swivel. Walking dead might amble out of the mist!" Gabey nervously giggled. "Remember," I continued, "when you were four, and I'd drive you to karate class? We imagined undead were chasing us, and we'd wipe them out with our zombie zappers?"

     "Yeah," he replied, "and we listened to Hall and Oats on the way there."

     "You memorized the lyrics to several of their songs," I said, nudging him. Gabey smiled. It was a good memory. Then I saw The Corn Crib, grew silent, and almost wept. "That's his church," I whispered. This was his dream. He loved the farm. Everywhere I look, I see him. It's as if I hear him calling."

     "It's sad," Gabey said as he scanned the farm for any signs of the walking dead.

     "Don't worry, Gabey. I'll fend them off until you make it to the SUV, then I'll dash for it. Unless, of course, I manage to wipe them out." We laughed as I reversed the vehicle, getting as close to the front porch as possible.

     As we loaded the kitchen hutch, I reminisced about the love that Albert, Shio, and I shared. I recounted anecdotes about the three amigos, which had him smiling and me sighing. I said I felt I could bring Albert back if I wished hard enough. I emphasized the importance of loving our families, respecting one another, and appreciating every moment of our lives. I urged him to let his loved ones know how much he cares for and values them.

     We secured the kitchen cabinet before I returned to the porch to clean up the mouse droppings while Gabey waited outside. As I worked, I couldn't help but think of Albert,  and I thought I heard his voice. Suddenly, a bell tolled, and I quickly reached the door. G stood before a giant cast-iron bell which was suspended between two thick posts. 

     "I didn't notice that before," I said.

     "Neither did I," he replied.

     "I guess we should get going, Gabe."

     "Okay," he answered, heading toward the Pilot.

     I grabbed the rope and pulled it hard, causing the bell to clang repeatedly. I tolled the bell for Albert. Closing my eyes, I imagined him walking toward me. My heart felt it was about to burst. When I opened my eyes, I saw Gabriel staring at me. I giggled foolishly and quickly yelled, "We better make a run for it, G. I just rang the dinner bell for the undead. They'll be coming soon!!" 

     We hurried to the SUV, and Gabey locked the door as soon as we were inside. "We're safe now," I said. "This vehicle is impenetrable!"

     As we drove away, a profound sense of loss washed over me. I thought about the abandoned farm just a few miles outside of Yorkville, in the prairie state, in the middle of America, where my brother's dreams were buried. I whispered a prayer and said my goodbyes.

     Gabey listened to music as he stared out the window. Looking back, I saw the farm fading into the mist, and I realized this would be the last time I'd see Rest for the Weary. I was overcome by a flood of emotions and felt a lump in my throat. I caught my breath, my eyes filled with tears as I grunted, "I'll run over any undead that gets in our way." I cranked the radio and bellowed, "Let's rock and roll!" Gabey chuckled as I turned onto the main road, and we prepared to do some zombie ass-kicking.

To get lost is to learn the way.

"To get lost is to learn the way. "*

I was chatting with Doug, a 92-year-old neighbor, and towards the end of our conversation, he said, "I wish I'd been a better human being. I have so many regrets."

"Who doesn't have regrets?" I replied. That's part of the journey. It's how we find ourselves, our soul." I sheepishly smiled because I thought, " Who am I to give a 92-year-old man advice? But he nodded and patted my shoulder. 

"I'll talk to you later, Este," he said, "I have to take care of Thelma." His wife is 97. She's sharp, but her body is failing her. Doug walked away unbalanced, bent, and pulled closer to Mother Earth. One day, she will embrace him as she does all of us.

Anyway, that's life, Gloria. That's the journey. There's always conflict between mind, body, and soul. Sometimes you feel you're losing your mind, and other times you feel connected and in tune with God and His creation. The only difference between you and me is that you've just started your voyage, and I'm more than halfway into mine. 

An anecdote. Yesterday morning, I woke and felt lost. A deep sadness tortured my mind, my body was in pain, and it ripped my soul apart, but I persevered. I said a quick prayer and forced myself forward step by step. I continued down the path. In the evening, while trimming evergreen bushes, a groundhog raced across the yard as crows dive-bombed him and blue jays chirped crazily. Suddenly, I was aware of the colors, sounds, and scents around me. It was euphoric, and all I could do was thank the Creator for the moment. 

You see, we're always between "losing our mind and finding our soul." Somewhere along the path, we find ourselves. Depending on our religious beliefs, we see the "way." It's being spiritual and allowing it to guide you, no matter how long it takes. Just appreciate your life and where it leads. 

*African proverb