One of my favorite people came into my life disguised as an everyday telephone repair man. His name is Christopher but for those who understand a bit about how our lives are so often replays of myths and legends, we can call him Tiresias, after the blind prophet of Apollo.
Why? Well, because it turns out, the phone problem I was having magically fixed itself but that didn't stop this character from teaching me all kinds of things, and setting off a bizarre string of synchronicities just like you would expect a mythical being to do.
Oh, yeah, and he only has one eye. (There is always a clue like that, believe me.)
In this version of Tiresias, our hero was born as a black male in Chicago, into very difficult circumstances. That eye was lost to a gun shot and was arguably the best thing that ever happened to him because it was while he was lying there, in a pool of his own blood at age 16, that he decided to turn his life around. Let's just say he doesn't take a whole lot in his life for granted.
Christopher has been to this acre I call home many times since then, but one visit stands out in my mind above the rest.
It was the day he saw his first blue jay, somewhere around his 50th year on the planet.
"You have a BLUE bird in your yard!" Christopher looked at me as though I could not possibly know that because if I did, I would not be standing there acting like this was just another day.
"I was walking around your yard first. I always walk around your yard before I come to the door because I just have to see what is here and that is when I saw it."
"Oh, was it a blue jay? We have a few around here."
And that was when he uttered the words that will stay with me forever.
Shaking his head, and brushing off my easy naming of the bird he took a deep breath and said,
"You don't seem to understand what I am saying, Laura. That bird is BLUE. When is that last time you've really looked at that?"
Ever since that day, Christopher. Ever since that day.
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