A Rich Inner Life

Speaking of letters... 

I go back to them all the time. Not just because of Keats. Or because of my compulsion to write them. But because, at least from one dear, art-filled friend, I have received letters worthy of reading, re-reading, savoring, feeling that someone saw me. 

I remember being 16, 17, 18 and waiting for these letters from what is surely a classical, romantic 19th century kind of friendship. The kind of friendship the modern day would call a stranger. Or an acquaintance. But on a very foggy day in Berkeley, I made a friend for life, even if I did only see him twice a year if I was lucky. A kindred spirit of philosophy and thought and clownishness. 

Mostly, I felt like an alien growing up. I think, actually, he might have been the first person I ever met that indicated there was a whole other kind of people out there in the world who were like me. 

His thing was never even so much about language or eloquence or whatever (not that those were ever missing) but his thing is something else entirely. It’s a point of view. An order. An interpersonal specificity that most people just aren’t capable of, or don’t take the time or energy to create. He can hone in on whatever is uniquely magical about anything.

He took me across the university campus in Arizona to show me his favorite tree, which was like a gigantic rose stem. Teenage boys just don't DO that.

One day, I had a letter that started like this: "Do you know who the Sugarcubes are? They're an Icelandic pop group that Bjork used to front. If you don't know them, I'm sure that they must know you. They had an album in the late 80's called 'Life's Too Good' and I feel certain they wrote it about you."

This among others that I don't have memorized, but remain in a box in my Dad's basement, are the best letters I have ever received or hope to receive. No one has ever said things as nice as he has said to me and about me. No one.

I am so lucky to have him return to my life, at this new transitional time in our lives. Lucky to still be receiving his letters. Lucky that we always seem to show back up, find a new way to communicate when needed most. I remember my theory of orbits. And am so happy he appears to be in mine for good. During this tumultuous time-- for us both-- I hope we can remember the idealistic curly haired blonde twins we were over ten years ago.