When I visited Robert this last spring (of my 22nd year) -- we of course went fishing. The water was bigger, and so were the fish. But it was still cheap, and we were still the best fishermen out there. In one month I'll be standing next to him as he gets married. Long hair, some bags under my eyes that weren't there before, and Robert standing next to me. it makes me cry -- just Life -- going. Changes & passages -- like all the poems about autumn you hear old people writing. I can feel a little autumn in my heart right now. It's real, like a flannel shirt -- and I'm getting older. I love you Robert. You've always been a brother to me. Good luck in your new life -- it's not much different. Do things cheap, and well. Have fun, learn, and pay attention. Like figuring out how to catch fish -- chance plays it's part, too.
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I'm crying, I don't know why. I think it's because those times as a kid were so lonely. Robert was, in a way, all I had in the whole world then.
When we were fishing, I could forget about all my hurts. I could be scientist, an observer, a mountain-man -- the knowledgeable one. It was a way to touch the cycle of things, to enter into the biology of things. We stepped in clean & pure -- naieve of any blemishes to our soul. We *were* fishing -- no separation. Zen buddhists know what I'm talking about. No separation.
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