As I flew into the parking lot of my studio, ready to run in and get the few things I needed for my trip to a conference, I stopped for a moment to look at my phone.  Always, I’m looking at the phone.  What has to be attended to now, since I last checked 5 minutes ago?


There was something, a soccer carpool emergency.  Or change.  Or something.


In the midst of reading it, I felt a presence approach the car.  Looking up, a big smiling face greets me, along with a wave.  It’s Reggie.  Crazy ass spirit, painter of things bigger, transmuted through large scale images of Michael Jackson, unknown street people, and I’m sure some mix of Gandhi and Bob Marley.  Often wearing a bandana around his neck, painted clothes and a little black beret, he exudes the kind of aura that either comes from a too much of mind altering substance or connection with the wild divine (not that tame kind that lives inside steepled buildings).  His temple is the river.  Watching it flow.  Coming to know its secrets, and his own, and how they are all part of the Big Story.


He’s always proclaimed special liking for me.  Says he sees me. Now whether that’s true or not, it’s what he says.  Frankly I think he sees most people.  And because of that, he’s got a lot to say most of the time.  And today, I really didn’t have time to listen to stories.  So I waved back, with trepidation and an internal “oh no’.  Love talking with him, when I have time.  But today didn’t fit that bill. I was on the go.

Rolling down the window, I say

Hey Reggie.

He says,

Hey Baby, how you doing?  I see you still being beautiful.

Aw thanks.

Seeing things tossed about my car ,

You been busy.

Yep.  Getting ready for a conference, coming here to pick up some stuff.  It’s been crazy.

He can sense my vibe…  he holds out his hand.

I got somethin’ for you.

Wrapped in red handkerchief, was a “something”.  It looked like cookies or sweet goodies filled with sugar.  Just having cheated on my doc’s instructions to cut out all dairy, wheat and sugar, I cried out “it’s not cookies is it?  Or food?  I can’t do any food right now.”  I knew somehow that handkerchief wasn’t holding any broccoli.

No, no, no food.

You sure?

I’m sure, baby.

I reached out, and he placed the not-yet-worn-into-softness handkerchief with its mystery inside into my hand.  It was surprising heavy.  Hard.

You trying to ground me?  I asked.  It was of the earth, I could tell.  It went straight to my gut.  And in that moment, I realized, grounding was exactly what I needed.  It’s what I’d flown away from with all my busy-ness.

Nah baby.  Just look.

Untying the knotted kerchief, unfolding it, revealing a geode. In the shape of a heart.


It’s just love, baby.

Wasn’t he just speaking the damn truth?  Ain’t nothing better to ground in, than love.

Freely given.  Freely received.

Holding that rock, I felt myself slow…breathing deeply for the first time all day.  In days. He couldn’t have known geodes are a symbol of my childhood, my roots in southern Indiana.  He couldn’t have known I needed grounding.  He couldn’t have known I needed to remember to reconnect to love.  The Inside-My-Self love most of all.  He couldn’t have known that the mystery was actually the answer.

Except that he did.

Because we all do.

Love.  It’s part of the Big Story.

It just may well be The Big Story.