I spent this past Sunday with my cousin, World Citizen, on the eve of his 30th birthday. I had not seen him in many years; ten perhaps. He was probably between missions to Nepal and Ecuador at the time. This spring he moved to Toronto after a long stint in India, home of an experiential environmental education centre of which he remains "the impetus" and a central stakeholder.
He spoke of challenges, of opposition, of earthquakes and masked gunmen and the difficult internal reconciliation when the offering of love evokes a response of hate.
He spoke of activism and a plan under which every motorist in the world might trade in their cars for investment into the environment and the future.
He mentioned that he too, writes, and like an ass, I never got around to asking him about the nature of his writing, and now I'm dying to know.
He spoke of meditation and how it ceased to be a prison and became the greatest ever experience of self-discovery. Traditional meditation, that is; not simply the solitary ardent contemplation which I have made an indulgent habit of labelling meditation.
He spoke of his humble introduction to international charity when the cutest girl in his high school raised her hand to volunteer and his own hand couldn't help but follow.
He spoke of time management and in an off-hand way, as if saying shave or pick up mail he listed among his daily agenda items: "beneficence."
He spoke of that yearning for pilgrimage common to many of us.
He spoke of seeing that which he was not, so to glimpse of that which he is.
He spoke in a voice quiet and firm; one softened, I perceive, by confidence, integrity and - I dare say - love. Love as a state of being, that is.
As we watched the departing sun turn the trees on the too-close horizon into black lacy silhouettes, he spoke of the city and the omnipresent trade of absurdities between its' peoples and he mourned his separation from those natural landscapes he'd made home, and the logistical barriers that isolate his dreams and goals from one another; a dilemma that I, and many, know well.
And concerning his previous home; a place to which I must decide if I will journey, he gave me solid advice; concise, direct and very insightful - not just in terms of his knowledge but in terms of understanding the root of my inquiries.
I do not state this lightly: I perceived our long conversation as being one of perfect honesty and openness and trust; an experience shatteringly rare.
Without a doubt the specifics of his priorities and mine currently differ, but so far seem entirely compatible. I sense we may each have found a valuable associate. From my perspective, he is easy to trust and put faith in, because in terms of promoting harmony, he has accomplished more than I might ever - and all prior to an age at which I was still a dull idiot, consumed within my own greed, lust and reputation, and a host of petty dramas.
I look forward to making my self of use to his endeavors. I look forward to talking to him again soon. There is still so much to discuss.
Writers' Open Mic Night - April 20th -
5 hours ago