Spanish Moss

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I am so in Love with Spanish moss. I Love to see it sway in the breeze. I Love to remember reading about it as a child in my Steinbeck books. I Love being a Man, and having a Life that reflects the dreams of my childhood. I Love to look out the bathroom window, and see it in the tree above the roofline. It makes me happy. When I am on the road, and it finds itself on the tonneau cover of my truck, it’s like a gift from the trees. A Wisp of the Tow if you will. I see the character of the trees at times…when I slow down and look. I often hear their voices, though I know it’s the voice of God. You aren’t supposed to anthropomorphize anything they say. I don’t think of God in those terms..in fact that’s just ridiculous…but, trees? Oh yeah…it’s like Whales, or other large, quiet beings of the Earth. God is definitely present, and there to ground us. All around us, invisible fingers weaving their breathy webs. Trying to make us see. Not to show us, but to have us see.

I have no answers about the reasons I am here, but I have some ideas about what I am here to do. My Life has literally been spared so many times, that I understand God wants me here to touch others. I threw my Life away so many times, only to have it come back more beautifully than I could-have-ever dreamed of it being. I know I am a fool, and each breath I have is a gift from God. It has been made clear to me¬†that I am not a great man, and I don’t feel I will ever be one, truly. Perhaps I may be blessed and do a great thing, but I shant be great myself. I am here to touch greatness, and help it along that much I do know. I have been kept alive because there will be someone who needs that little nudge to change things, to be truly great. Keeping my mind pure, and eyes open is all I can hope to do. God breath swirls around me constantly, I feel it always. I will be looking into the trees, watching the moss dance in the Sunshine, grinning…for how long, I cannot say. I hear a small, quiet voice until a physical one takes its place. I don’t know how long I have been gazing, but someone starts to address me. I cannot say what transpires then. Shifting gears from the ethereal to the real world isn’t always my best skill.

I often find people uncomfortable with me.

It’s not that I am trying to affect some wispy, cool, quirky spiritual presence or am really out there enough to enjoy being completely unplugged‚ it’s just that I blur a lot. From the soft haze of Love to the hustle of today. It’s why I need to roll. It’s why I need to be away, to separate. I found the Love of moving and solace of silence a few years ago and I need it more each passing day. It‚’s hard for those that care about me, but I need it.They see me staring out, and wanting to go. There is a worry in them. I cannot tell them I won’t Die, that I won’t leave this World, but truly, it is not my intent. The Away is what keeps me Here. It keeps my mind mine. It’s become the way I can be patient, and share. If I have my peace, I can BE. I don‚’t want the drugs. I don’t want much anymore if I can have the Highway. If I can see the Spanish moss. If I can cross the River.

The flicker of shadows on my knuckles. The glint of the Sun behind the moss. Seeing my floating expression in my rearview mirror. I sit in my truck. I feel the wind buffeting the cab. I don’t know how long I may have been staring. The salt on my windshield. Sometimes I get out and receive the gift of the Wisp.

To be quiet. This is new to me, and I have a deep relish for it. I am known as loud, abrasive at times and wild. I hustle for a living, and have been quite violent. Now, I need the solace. The silence. The shadows.

I read as much as I can. One of my favorites has been Dostoevsky. I relate to the pain, the humiliation. I have felt it so much. To have it so succinctly expressed is somehow a relief to me. I am not alone on my bitter pathway. I work toward the light. I hear God’s voice all around me.

When I am quiet. I shan’t ask him about the wisp of tow, for I expect you tease him with that question somehow. But I’ll find out from him why you hate Fyodor Dostoevsky from The Brothers Karamazov‚

As you know, I do Love the music‚ I will suggest one of my favorites. I think of it when I venture down the coast and look out over the rooflines…

“Let go darlin’
I can feel the night wind call
Guess I’d better go
I like you more than half as much
As I love your Spanish moss
Spanish moss hangin’ down
Lofty as the southern love we’ve found
Spanish moss
Keeps on followin’ my thoughts around
Georgia pine and Ripple wine
Memories of Savannah summertime
Spanish moss
Wish you knew what I was sayin’
So I’m rollin’ north thinkin’
Of the way things might have been
If she and I could have changed it all somehow
Spanish moss hangin’ down
Lofty as the sycamore you’ve found
Spanish moss
Keeps on followin’ my thoughts around
Georgia pine and Ripple wine
Kisses mixed with moonshine and red clay
Spanish moss
Wish you knew what I was sayin’
So I’m rollin’ north thinkin’
Of the way things might have been
If she and I could have changed it all somehow
Let go darlin’
I can feel the night wind call
The devil take the cost
I like the way your kisses flow and I love your Spanish moss”

 

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