The Wandering Tribesman.
I think at times it’s amazing how far I might go to avoid remembering the past.
I mean why not? I’m the one you’ve seen a million times pontificate on the Zen perfection of living in the moment right? The past no longer exists, the future, not yet written.
That was me. It has been me; it’s what I strive for with all my heart.
Yet some circumstances present the difficulty of the present being the reality to be reckoned with.
The heart, it seems, can be far more complex than simple reason.
I met two amazing men this weekend on a trip to Atlanta. The more I got to know them, the more I liked them.
Forget for a minute that this is something that to a certain extent always happens with someone who gives you gifts and attentions so intimate, this was something deeper.
They resonated with me on a level I found hard to put my finger on at first, something deep and extremely comforting.
I put some leather on at their request at some time during the evening. As we sat there I said it had been a really long time since I had worn leather. It wasn’t “me” anymore.
I looked in the mirror and I realized that I really looked very good.
Then something else happened.
I probably didn’t react at the moment, but I was in leather, with two other leathermen who were my age.
I remembered the adage there is nothing hidden that shall not be revealed.
So it seems.
I have dealt with most of the past in a Zen-like manner. There is one memory that eludes giving me peace.
Most of the people in my leather tribe, men my age who were my mentors and cohorts, are dead.
I am friends with people who are younger than me, older than me, but very seldom people who are the same age.
AIDS saw to that.
I very seldom complain about it, I love my friends very much and it seems to smack of ingratitude to wish I had more my age, who shared common memories and cultural references.
As if wishing made it so.
After a scene later, the endorphins were rushing. Zen-like thought has a trap door I found in my mental state.
I wondered what life would have been like if they were still alive today. I wondered how much more rich my life would be with men as amazing as these two I had found, like the men that I had known my whole life. People that were woven into the fabric of my own life, people who shared my common experience at such a deep level.
My friends that were lost in the 80’s would be at the full potential of their lives by now. While some undoubtedly would have fallen by the wayside over the years, I’d imagine based on my memories of them, memories I have long tried to suppress so desperately, some of them would have been dazzling.
I think I don’t wear leather anymore because at some level I think what it represented for me what was lost, lost with my tribesman.
Once, as a younger man, I had everything I ever wanted in one place.
Now I am like a wandering tribesman, I find islands in the stream that so strongly remind me of the joy I knew as a Leatherman so many, many years ago.
Like these two wonderful men.
I think my mentors would be proud of me these days. I think and strongly believe I have lived up to the expectations they had when I was younger.
Save one; I think they would have frowned on my putting my leathers away completely.
This was a mistake.
Some memories it seems, are not meant to be buried because our friends were.
Some memories and what they represent should be embraced and not forgotten.
Because even today at a deep level, even though I wander, I am not lost.
I embody what they held dear, even if they are not here in person to tell me so.
Be well.
