A conversation about a closet that held a stalk of potent living zones that come to life through simple forms of ingestion evolved from a rhetorical discussion to a whirlwind onset of vibrant anticipation and eagerness between him, me, and the ever so expanding bubble. As fellow freethinkers and artists of our own mediums, we could not help but adore each other. Only mere, mere inklings told us that we were in for a magical journey that one summer night.
"Then, we should really eat a very healthy dinner to set us off for the most righteous sail." I was climbing a hill of some strategy to reap the purest benefits of that certain cup of tea.
"Yes, it will be good to get a bunch of good vitamins in...our tea is going to be so good..." the grin on his face trailed right off with his thought.
His pointing finger gently carried my eyes to the top of a wooden bread holder where three tin cans stood plastered with gentle imageries of angel fairies whose eyes were gently closed with slightly bowed heads leading to calligraphies of ethereally penetrating messages. Given by the air of his confidence, it was almost as if I could see him reminiscing all the amazing cups of tea that were brewed by his own hand. If there was a designated hat for a tea guru, he would have been wearing it right then. It was one of those vanishing split seconds where you want to swear that you saw a spirit.
Tea was waiting for the moonrise. The upper-level apartment possessed the rich aura of an old social spot. There was a feeling of densely-lived stories that gently bounced off the dark wooden walls. The burgundy red carpet and the brown walls complimented a certain decade. The room in the far back stood apart from the rest of the place. It had hardwood floors that emanated something like wordless wisdom that was begging to be spoken. It was like it could tell me all about Shakespeare, Thoreau, Rumi, Bill Hicks, and even all the thinkable conspiracies through frequencies of vibrations only if I would take a moment to lie down on the bare floor. Instead of doing just that, I froze a few angles into digital memory. There was also a window at the end of that room that seemed to possess its own dialect. It could tell you all about rain in a whole different light than the other windows in that dwelling. Talk about unspoken wisdom. Angles matter.
All duties that needed attention were attended to in a very attentive fashion. Dusk was approaching following a thick wave of gently cooling summer air. As dusk slowly transformed into night, time neared. It was just a matter of brewing that tea with enough honor towards universal love. Timely, an aroma of sweet herbs and sweeter magic filled the air in the corridor of that kitchen with something that moved swiftly like a happily suspenseful tune. In addition to the anticipation of what was to come, there was a soft humming that felt very promising.
*teakettle whistle*
Something like adrenaline kicked in.
*cupboard opens*
Two murkily transparent crimson red teacups stood on the counter between the stovetop and the sink peering up at us. The stillness of those teacups only made them look like they were resisting urges to dance. The whistling teakettle eased down as my partner of the upcoming universal emprise picked it up. At the very cradle of the tea's potency, he mindfully poured two cupfuls. As the teacups settled, they were brought to a toast thanking the night that was just about to unveil itself.
*clink*
*eye contact*
*exchange of smirky grins*
*sip*
"This is gooooood." I marveled once the tea met my throat.
"Mmhmm, sure is." He agreed.
We sat down with our teacups at the rectangularly round table and looked through some of the pictures I took over that year. Various images of different subjects gradually built into a supple feast for our eyes and thoughts. As we trekked about a conversation of creating a portfolio for my photos, an awakened sensation came. A pulsating vibration started to come to life in what I knew as my veins.
"I just gotta be outside." I knew I could not be confined to a walled cube even if it was pleasant to the eye and the mind.
"Absolutely, let's go." he concurred with a slight nod and proceeded to open the door for me and then let himself out.
The night was shy of many stars and still a virgin of moonlight. Sitting down on the top of the stairs that led down to a sprawling green surrounded with trees and plants of lush leaves, he and I happily sat in sheer silence. American Spirit was lit and inhaled as a heightening sense of alarming bodily sensations evolved into soft ecstasy. It couldn't have been reggae, jazz, or rock. It was just the whispers of nature and universal resonance. As the night became a deep cobalt blue, the moon was peering through the swaying leaves of that majestic tree which had a willowy feel. It hovered partly over us
"Do you feel it?" he peered over to me with his eyes asking a bigger question.
"Oh, I do. Do you?" I looked back at him with a smile that was just growing on its own.
"You bet." his grin was effortlessly turning into an appreciative burst of laughter.
We leaned back onto the wooden deck and rest our heads. The stars were arriving for the night. It was quite a blanket of gorgeous speckles that laid above us. It did not take but a few blinks of our eyes to notice what we were seeing.
A dome of a vastly glorious web was being knitted before our eyes in the night sky that held a deep shade of cobalt blue. It was so far but so near. Every single star was taken by a thread.
"Do you see... that?" I looked over to him emanating total astonishment in utter calmness.
"Yeah..." he seemed to trail off in thought as if he was wondering whether he was seeing what I was.
"This just proves Albert's thought on everything being relative. This is VISUAL PROOF, Marc." my amazement of the phenomenon that was gracing my sensory perception took over. I continued, "Do you see the strings between the stars?"
"Yes, I do. It's just so beautiful." he almost was too calm to have truly witnessed the miracle I was seeing.
Momentarily, the presence of that cosmic connectivity raised us upon our feet. After descending the stairs, we found ourselves surrounded with vivid green that was bursting and becoming bigger with life. It was like everything was hiding and just came out that night. The trees, stalks of plants, grass were swaying ever so softly in complete unison. The grass never felt so soft against my feet. I felt so much like a child surrendering oneself to the universe. I couldn't resist looking back up at the sky to see if the stars were still connected with finely glowing strings. I looked.
They were.
The sway of that one majestically mounded tree drew us near it.
Clemens the cat seemed to appear out of nowhere with his eyes fixated on us. Not a single thing was silent or rampaging. Yes, everything was in pure unison. It was like a visual proof of oneness. We floated on our feet all over the green inhaling the given shade of consciousness. The small country road and the line of its gentle streetlights slightly left of the living green invited our floating feet. Walking forward, there was not a trace of inkling to look back. None whatsoever.
Not many other times would entice the magic of walking barefooted with the power of a waterfall. We had plenty of company in the laughing breeze, dancing leaves, mysteries of the velvety thickets that seemed to peer at us with a synchronous balance of loving curiosity and nourishing care all under the alluring security of moonlight. It seemed like we were walking towards another reality. Even after a while, it was hard to turn back for the burgundy red carpet and dark brown walls. Everything seemed so safe and warm.
Okay, must I not trail off on something like my soapbox in the middle of a shiny forest. As you see, it was quite a night's journey. The power of any turning point is that there is no turning back. This experience revealed to me on a humble level how connected we all really are.
