I've become convinced the visit by young friend in despair over his life was a spiritual experience. I did not see it at the time, because I did not want to interpret, rather merely to listen, not objectively, but subjectively, as in life, to someone talking straight from the heart. I had to listen with my heart to hear it. I let go of my own thoughts and gave over to his, flowed with his thought process, allowed him to lead his own way. I did indeed feel a flow, that I had aligned myself with the flow, allowed it to carry me as I heard my friend's story in minimalist language that sometimes had me thinking this was a Pinter play. I did not realize it at the time that my own continuous mind play had settled down like a cat on a pillow in sunlight. All my mind was on what he was saying. I never wondered or thought about what I'd say, just followed what he said with what came spontaneously to mind. I did not realize my mind was so focused, never said, "let's pray about it," or even thought prayer within. I was thinking this was about him given a conundrum he had to find a way to settle for himself. I'm happy to assist, but it's his work to do. He was so turned off by religion, I did not want to imply I knew better than he did, because I don't, which helped me stay away from the clichés we use for God and love that misrepresent both.
sofia in the sun
He raised his chin up over my head and placed it on my right shoulder. He moved his whole head over my shoulder. He pressed the side of his head to the side of my head again and we stayed like that awhile. He moved his head away, pushed my shoulder with his side a little bit, a body nudge. He turned around and backed up to me, very gently pressed his back knees to my back and stood there. I soon wondered what he was up to. I turned around to look. His tail was rising and his bung-hole was puckering toward dropping some donkey biscuits. I thought, What the hell? Jack's energy was very quiet, still and deliberate, and Jenny grazing quietly about two feet to my right. I realized Jack was aiming to gift me his shit. I knew it is not dirty to them like it is to us. I tend not to think it dirty. However, I did not feel like I wanted a steaming donkey biscuit rolling down inside my collar. I hesitated, because I felt this was important to Jack, but really didn't want to participate in whatever ritual Jack was performing.
donkeys in the sun
I rolled onto my feet and said, "I don't want you shitting on me, Jack." He looked disappointed like I'd hurt his feelings. I came to the house and later, wondering what Jack was doing, it came to me that I had been talking to him about us being friends for over two years, and this was his way of claiming me with his scent, a ritual of the bond between us, a blood brothers rite. He wanted my scent to be the same as his and Jenny's. The three of us are bonded as friends and he wanted us to smell alike. Then I was sorry to be so slow minded as to fail to get it in time to let him honor me with his scent. A shower is always an option. Perhaps I would have if I could have thought of it in time. I don't know. I woke that morning feeling in the spirit from the experience the night before. By in-the-spirit, I mean when everything flows with perfect timing. I went into town and felt mild joy with everyone I spoke with. That it put me in the spirit told me the experience night before with friend was, for both of us, a spiritual experience. I learned much from it and I believe he did too. Both of us benefited. I may be interpreting Jack by a projection of my own mind. Looked at as Jack, himself, the donkey I know, he likes to play straight-faced tricks on me. He more than likely wanted to see me jump.
jack contemplates his shadow