Repeating the refrain of old warriors, a certain one of them, having found himself at destinies juncture, has lent not just a hand, but a life to aid one who had fallen, namely me. To this end, that I might be found whole again, a work was instituted that in spite of my efforts (for I often sabotage my own salvation) continues to this day. He is called in the popular tongue an Indian, more specifically, a Native American, and was a large man with long black hair, who inspired respect, if from nothing more than from his size, reached down to assist me by holding back the powers of the dark world of addiction and the apex predators who prowl its labyrinthine corridors. With his family by his side he took me in, giving me refuge and a place of recovery without which I’d probably be dead or worse (there are things worse than dying).
During the time of his heaven sent provision an alternative lifestyle began to show itself. Don’t take alternative to be a freaky derivative of normality, but it was an alternative compared to my insanity. His family was simply just that, a family. This greatly put me in awe, for this thing called family was an institution of which I’ve been deprived of and seeing his daily dance of life with his wife and child put me at ease and challenged me to walk a different path. This path included a particular music with which I began to fall in love with as the music for my own dance with normality.
Understand that people who are impaired, whether physically or mentally, can dance but not like an unimpaired person would. My twirls and spirals, off beat and tragically humorous created a unique rhythm that would like the Native American drums, inspire me to reach beyond myself, beyond what I knew, and teach me things that though unseen were amazingly tangible. The reason I write is to honor him and the amazing work that his random and sometimes not so random acts of kindness began in me many years ago. So my friend, where ever you are, I can still see you who with unwavering determination gave me hope and with your Bruce Lee One Inch Punch gave me a bruise and reason to not wound this opportunity to grow.
First Published in Opinions Of Eye
Also published in Life as a Human