Walking sticks

Walking Sticks

It is almost noon and time to check the mail and see who else is there.They are getting the latest bit of news for the day. As I walked the 2 blocks to the post office today, I saw another distant relative. I can’t remember the connection for sure, he told me but I can’t remember. There he was with his walking stick. When I first met him he had that walking stick, walking proudly and showing off his carving skills. It is a magnificent piece of art work. A little dirty from the everyday use it gets. But, nonetheless a piece of artwork in the making. Sometimes he sits in front of the post office visiting with those that stop, sometimes I see him down at the local grocery store sitting on the bench, greeting people as they come and go. Sometimes I sit with him and we share stories. He has good stories. A bachelor all his life, living alone now and doing things his own way. He told me about a time when he was friends with another man who used to live here. That man is now gone, but he told me how they used to travel the local hills and mountains looking for Indian artifacts. They found them too. He told me about one time they were looking into some rocks up around rattlesnake hill. He said, “It got real spooky, I could feel the spirits of the ones who were buried here. I knew that they were unhappy with us, disturbing their burial places and all, I knew I had to leave and never return.” He told me that he would take me out and show me some of the places that he had found over the years.

That was months ago, maybe longer, I’m not sure now. He tells me the same stories over and over, I just smile and let him share. It must be lonely to live alone as he has done. I asked him when he was going to finish his walking stick? “Don’t know,” he said. How long have you been working on it? “Can’t remember for sure.”

I thought about my own walking stick. A client friend from Albuquerque gave it to me. She was starting a new life with a new husband and no longer needed or wanted the walking stick. I was thrilled to get it, not quite my style, but I knew I could turn it into something that would match my personalty. Years have passed and that walking stick now accompanies me on my difficult walks, the ones where I have to do some climbing. It really helps to have that extra bit of help when you are climbing over obstacles and rocks. I have carved and shaped that walking stick over the years. It kind of resembles me, or who I am. I think it is done. I may need to change it to match my changes. Our journey may take us places that I am unable to see right now. It is a comfort to have with me, gives me a little bit of confidence when I am feeling a little bit less sure.

Merlin, as I call my walking stick, he and I are somewhat the same. Both creations in the making. Walking into unknown places, trusting that we will be led to those places where we can do the most good. Allowing others to see us and even though I may get a bit of dirt on me at times, I am under construction from the Master Carver. I know that I am in good hands, I may need to have a little bit whittled here and there, a little bit of stain, maybe a little bit of crystal placed in just the right place. Whatever it may be, I know and trust the Masters hand.