back on the train

10am and back on the train…new Erykah Badu album. In the not so back of my mind, I’m putting together another mixed tape in my head…quite a bit more soul.

What a great visit…

I was thinking about my comment to myself regarding what may be my lack of trust in people. Not simply the ‘can I count on you to be here’ kind of trust. Though this certainly speaks to the fuller context in my mind…What is that odd thing we/I really mean when we lean forward and ask, “Can I trust you?” Does it presuppose I should trust you? What am I trusting you with?

Fields of putting greens off to the right just south of Seattle.

Do I really mean – are you going to distance yourself in some way when I show you I’m bent, cracked, broken, fractured and quite simply wrong? Do I not allow that sort of trust in others simply because we need to keep the carousel turning? There are always those few folks you can count on, and then there are those few that don’t make it on your mental sticky-note. An almost trust-worthy cadre by default, keeping the muddy waters of the mechanics moving. What would the bottom of the pond look like if we let the silts and clays settle out – Seattle Muck?

I’m quickly thinking of leadership, sharing upward, and the genetic bottleneck effect. As people trust in you/me, you/I trust ever so deeply in fewer (the bottleneck). Or at least only in parts of those varied interactions and thoughts that reflect a whole character. And in all of this, knowing it is nothing short of an enormous compliment to be on the receiving end of other’s struggles and concerns. As if to say, ‘I trust you. You can read the warning stickers on the packaging (this end up, fragile [pronounced fra-gee-lee], not for distribution…).’ Those subtle (and not so subtle) techniques one navigates through the psycho-social-emotional landscape, floating atop the spiritual waters.

You use old maps from those that came before. Some collected in person, others beautiful exemplary works on museum walls and in dusty books, that don’t quite fit the here – right now. You haven’t been there yourself, but it appears you can read a compass; and you’ve seen the bad lands to the south, the sharp peaks to the west, and the cold icy flats up north. When asked, you’ll tell about the calm waters turned typhoon to the east. You can find a bearing and locate snacks.

I remember ab ol’ bit from a comic on cable in my hotel-road show years (decade)…”You know who I ask for directions?...the one legged guy. He knows how to get places, and will give you the low down on icy steps, puddles and places to sit and lean.”

Five days into my visit I finally got to the apology part. Knowing in my heart that this exchange had happened without words in the days previous…but I added my own wax stamp to mark the portrait of our moment together. Not so much to detract (like cumin on a blt), but to call out to our love for one another.

Emily, the treasure of mi hombre Jason’s life, smiling with so much more than her bright eyes – ‘I was worried for you the last time we saw you.’ Jason spoke the same in the not odd triple hug at the train depot upon my arrival days earlier.
I was so much more than content. And that is what trust can be. Not a technical manual for human resource role-playing – but the long waves of love beating from a shared heart. That place where we are different, and so much the same. A visit to old friends/loved ones to see who you are, and what you’ve become. Not to mention the food. And being Irish, ready to get ‘deep’, have a conversation and tell stories, leaving the obligatory salutation driven conversation behind.

Mud flats and weathered pilings just out of Tacoma…meandering streams, water birds, and thick mud bound by the ocean and trees. Coming into Centennial with calls for those with lunch reservations. I’m cool. Emily’s chocolate chip cookies and sea-weed covered wiener dog crackers from the markets of Seattle…shaka!