In a dream I saw a familiar white farmhouse nestled in a small grove of oaks.
I walked through the open door and saw Alec and Benay in their blue velvet room having a discussion with the Impossibly Present Man. No one noticed my presence as he continued to offer advice.
“Only fish in the deep ponds. The best ideas are big fish and they only live in the deep ponds.”
“Also, respect trees. They give us everything.”
I dreamt I was in Bolivia where I met an old man dressed in brilliant colors standing in the middle of a high road. He approached me slowly and smiled before whispering into my ear:
“Stop going to bed with worries. Long after businesses are gone, the Earth will still be thriving. The monkeys will still smile and the llamas will still spit to spite the wind.”
I’ve spoken many times over many years to my Sayer of Nay. I never invite the conversations, but I’m nevertheless compelled to participate. That day, we walked through the garden on a particularly bright spring day.
“The flowers on this plant look magnificent in the sunlight.”
The Sayer of Nay replied, “that may be, but the petals create a mess to clean and the fruit really could be sweeter.”
“Yes, I suppose, but the wind is cool and brisk today. Maybe it will blow away any mess the flowers make?”
“I don’t like the wind. It makes noise in my ears,” hissed the Sayer of Nay.
“Maybe the wind is speaking wisdom you can’t yet understand.”
The Sayer of Nay became quiet as my thoughts strayed and I carried on with the rest of my day.
Who is Kisatchieland?
Hundreds of years ago the River People walked the banks of the creeks and rivers and hunted the deer in the forests until the Takers came. They took everything and either killed or exiled those who refused to assimilate. Today, the children of the Takers have formed a multigenerational way of life that involves seeing the world through a prism of red, and policies and opinions are still shaped by ghosts of defeat from the past. It is a place of beauty, but no progress.
What is Kisatchieland?
It is a place steeped in thick, humid air that blankets the piney hills and soggy hardwood bottoms. It is one of my canvases for stories I have been compelled to share.
When is Kisatchieland?
Time is plastic in Kisatchieland.
Where is Kisatchieland?
It is the place of my childhood. It is the place from which I escaped.
Why is Kisatchieland?
Every place was ultimately named by someone. I find the names typically used to be boring and unimaginative, so I created my own.
She was my guardian angel who found me back in 2002. I never wanted a cat, but she nudged and purred her way into my soul and became my longest running friendship of over 18 years. She watched over me through some very difficult times in my life and for that I will be forever grateful. I will always have fond memories of her looking down on me from the top of my easel, or how sweet she looked sleeping on the various windowsills bathed in sunlight.
Late in the evening on October 19 she decided to leave, but not before summoning the energy to stumble from her bed and rub her face on my leg one last time. It was if she was telling me ‘thank you, and goodbye.’ I returned her to the bed and gently stroked her petite head. Through heavy tears, I repeated over and over how much I Ioved her as she took her final breath seconds later. It’s been almost 6 months and I still think of her often. Maybe our spirits will cross paths again, or maybe not. In this life, I will always think of her as a great unexpected gift.
This is my friend Bill. Our friendship began via Facebook several years ago and we’ve kept up with each other weekly over DMs since.
When he’s not busy with his many responsibilities as the Chief Technology Officer for Next Level Urgent Care Centers, you will find Bill volunteering for various non-profits in Houston and maintaining a full social event calendar. Some of Bill’s interests include adding new recipes to his expansive culinary repertoire, and building an ever evolving collection of exotic and creative footwear and scents for any occasion. I love listening to his stories and hearing about his adventures. I value his friendship and I am thankful for his ongoing support.