Acts of kindness that didn't make much sense when they were performed have a funny way of bringing life into focus years later. That's where this story goes. But to tell the story, I have to start with the new year that just came to pass.

I always keep a calendar in my kitchen on the door to my pantry. Since last year's calendar was now expired, it was time for me to buy a new one. I looked at the calendar kiosk in the mall and in Borders, but none of those calendars struck my eye. I decided a yoga calendar was the way to go, since it might help motivate me to keep up my practice throughout the year.

Onto Amazon.com I went in search of such a calendar, which I found fairly easily. Since I was already ordering from Amazon, I figured I might as well also order a book on Ayurveda that was recommended during that workshop I attended a couple of months ago. As you may know, Amazon comps the shipping if you order $25 or more worth of merchandise.

My two books didn't quite make it, and rather than paying the shipping, I figured I deserved the extra extravagance of another book or DVD or CD. I looked through pages of recommendations that the Amazon software provides, but much like my Borders calendar search, nothing struck my fancy.

Then I remembered my friend Chris back in Ithaca. OK, to be fair, we were a little more than friends, but I won't go into all those illicit details here. Chris is an artist and poet of sorts, and always seemed to be on a slightly higher plane of consciousness than me. He always raved about A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers as his all-time favorite book.

I ordered Chris' favorite book because I also recently discovered how his perspective has come to have meaning in my life. Chris and I actually only met in person two or three times, but each time was an intense burst of insight and inspiration (and, admittedly, physical delight). We hooked up one last time about a week before I moved to Tucson. I drove out to his home in one of the rural towns in upstate New York whose name I can't even remember anymore.

After a walk out into the woods to some of his favorite meditation spots, and after enjoying some more carnal pleasures in his bedroom, he presented me a painting he made for me. For years I've been struck by the kindness of the gesture, but never understood the inscription until very recently.

The painting's title is "TREE" and it hangs right next to my front door. It's a mottled maroon background with a meditating figure encapsulating the OM symbol on top and a Japanese character for "tree" on the bottom.

On the back of the painting, Chris wrote:

"TREE"

For Michael

From Chris

June 22, 2002

- Remember that change is inevitable and it can only, eventually, manifest itself as strength -- and fear that preceeds (sic) change is simply excitement for what is about to be, overwhelming you -- you are the master of your direction -- the creator of your own reality

Be well
- CHRIS

The inscription makes so much more sense to me today than it did four and a half years ago. I've long since lost touch with Chris, but his words and his painting now inspire me more than I ever would have expected during our brief friendship. Even in my darkest hours right after moving to Tucson, those words never rang as true as they do today.

I understand more now about change, strength, fear and reality than at any time before now. And as Chris' succinct wisdom those years ago now finds meaningful manifestation in my life, I dedicate my yoga practice in part to him.

Labels: change, fear, friendship, personal, reality, strength, yoga