I really love to revisit old friends, just to connect, to tell stories, to re-kindle the in common histories, bare souls, and share food and fancy. One of my favorite moments today? Watching my old friend Ellen construct a sculpture of words, a lovely piece inches away from the garden landscape view from the terrace, more eloquent than I've ever heard her spin her expressions into poetic visions. I like Ellen. I was glad to see her again.

Sitting in the space also was my newer and dearest friend Michael, coming so far from a business trip to Europe and landing in this unfamiliar living room, legs stretched out, yawning, comfortable and open.  I could tell he was glad he came.
Isn't that just what you want from a friend who you invited?  To see they are
glad they came?

At the center of this hub was our friend in common, Evan, trafficking the group with a noisy eye, dancing his dance-- his wisdom beyond wisdom weaving a design for the group from his own vantage point. I so enjoy watching someone do what they do so well--www.kindlingpoint.com


And David, our host, a poster boy for the simple pleasures of life--old friends and new round his coffee table, engaging dialogue with sumptuous dinner--he hasn't aged. How can that be? Maybe I always saw him as "older" and now he is "older" but he hasn't aged? Still something is different and yet the same, and I like that.

And David's brother joining in with his own offerings--oh, that and all this, and all these made a soft afternoon for me after a hard week. 

How is it that we touch each other so fleetingly deep? I thought I saw a drama unfolding there, but the drama was not the thing. The play was not the thing. The thing was to be there, to commune there, to let each other be there. 

Elyse