wild places

I don’t know if I’d call it reflecting – I’ve been strolling through these past 75 years maybe more than usual lately. Sometime with reason, sometime just because. Often back to the town I grew up in, “growing up” both beginning to learn some stuff and the pages of a calendar flipping again, and again. I’ve mentioned Donnie Sisson a few times in posts here. So many great times with him. The further along I moved through high school it was more about Forrie and Doug, Ricky and misbehavior. Though there was Donnie again and again, appearing back in my days — see, putting me up a few months in ’86 after I’d screwed up pretty badly and found myself homeless, jobless, rather directionless.

It feels like talking about Donnie is an honoring of sorts. Forrie, Doug, Ricky, Butchie, Nicky, Jeff, Julius. All of them as well. All of them who honored me with their friendship. Their company.

There is a Zen Koan I am particularly connected with. — ‘People go to wild places, poke through abandoned grasses, in search of their true nature.’ I can never tell if that’s what’s going on, moment by moment, lounging in the recliner, blasting Sonic Youth cruising down the street. Sipping coffee. Calling it reflecting, or not. In any case, there’s a lot of it lately. Wild guess that the 75 thing has something to do with it.