The Old Man With A Red Cane...First Encounter
I had heard stories of this old man with the red cane and how he walked daily along the shore near Matanza Inlet. Always at the same appointed time. Some just called him the Hermit, while others spun their own tales of fantasy and intrigue. Regardless of the tales, he captured my imagination and I made it a point to pass by that stretch of coastline on many occasions just to get get a glimpse of the old man with a red cane legend.
When I first saw him approaching I could not restrain the passion in my voice..."Good day sir," forced its way out. With a hint of disparity he said, "What do you want." I politely, as best I could, responded, "I did not intend to disrupt your peace." He quickly quipped, "and what would be the point in that?"
"Well sir, the legend of the ole' man with a red can lives on you know?"
He smiled, " I guess you are one of them seekers here to ask me about the meaning of life?" I laughed and then we both got a good laugh together when I told him I was to old to be looking for secrets. The experience of life showed in his face, but not in his eyes.
"People think what they want to think, and it's none of my concern," he said.
I asked him if I could see his cane, it was one to be admired. It was a twisted vine in shape, with a carved Eagle appointing the head. It was a fine cane. Made from the Elder Wood vine. He showed the markings where smaller vines left their markings and how he carved animals around its core. He makes canes, not to sell but just for his own pleasure. Said he probably had over 200. Some with so much meaning he looks at them everyday.
About midway in our conversation I teased him a bit and asked, "Well, when you going to tell me the meaning of life?" It was as if time stood still in that moment. He never looked up and quietly responded.
"But why do you ask the meaning in life...does it exist?...yes it exists. Life has meaning because it exist. We do not ask the meaning of a rose, or a sunset, or a birdsong...and surely you agree that human life is more wondrous than a rose. Why should we demand that a human life be justified by some meaning?...By just existing we matter."
By its mere existence it is meaning. Nothing more needed to be said. We sat in silence a while watching the sun dance on the waves and the tide filling the tide pools once more. Not long, for I had invaded his privacy. Odd thing though, he gave me a final farewell by saying, "I'm sorry if I disturbed your peace sir," then smiled and made his way down the beach.
Is It By Chance We Meet Again?
This was my third encounter with the ole man with a red cane. On the second sighting I watched him from a distance and recalled a poem by Yeats, Old Men Admiring Themselves By The Sea. There is this chilling line that haunted my spirit, "all things beautiful must fade away"...
This is a cool morning for June, but bright with hues of sunrise peering from the horizon. There he was...sitting on the shore by the sea on the small inlet. I approached him quietly and found my space not far from his and sat in silence as we both felt the sun on our face. The silence between us was like an old friend.
I felt his brief glance and in his familiar voice, he asked, "Are you the pilgrim that disturbed my peace?"
He remembered me and our first awkward encounter as I apologized for my intrusion of invading his quiet moment of grace. "I am that pilgrim, kind sir," I replied. "Seems another apology is in order."
"Found your peace pilgrim?", he questioned.
"At times, I am honored by its presence, but always looking for its return. I would even go and visit if I knew where It resides." I was not pleased with my response and felt I may have put him off a bit, but he quickly responded.
"Seems it resides in thin places for us all, like where the visible and the invisible comes to their closest space...where the sky meets the ocean. To seek such places is the vocation of the wise and the good and for those that find them, well...the clearest communication between the temporal and eternal."
"And sir," I asked, "do thin places reside in other than the temporal, for I sense the beauty of peace in this space?"
Resting his arm on that red cane, he turned and through the gleam in his kind eyes he replied, "But perhaps the ultimate of these thin places are in our human condition. The experiences we are likely to have as we encounter suffering, joy and mystery? Maybe pilgrim, just maybe."
He gave me a glance and a smile, silence between us as we watched the sun break the horizon, felt the gentle breeze as the tide changed its course. The sound of the sea birds as they made their morning search for mooring and the distant sound of the bells at St Mary's. Without a word he stood and made his slow walk down the beach and I heard him say, " find your peace with it all pilgrim."
I watched until his frail figure disappeared around the bend from my sight. All things beautiful must fade away...There was a thin place between us this morning. Where the sky touched the ocean with its color of blue. The kiss on my face as the sun cast its warm glow, and yes, the the thin space of our conversation as his words transformed my visible peace to the experience of invisible peace we all share in our human condition.
You are not really gone from this earth, until the last time a person speaks your name...
Be well. See you soon!
