Guy at the park 

Says my rock is from Kansas, near the trail of tears. Says it surfaced 75 years ago. With vivid explanation that would not be expected of an idiot, but may be expected by a nomadic bench sleeper who has made his way around the country. His personality was rather charming for a homeless man who definitely didn’t beg for cash. 

Work boots worn, describing the flapping sole of the shoes, he obviously showed a bit of desolation. In a sense to hold his dignity, it seems, he talked of how he needed new boots and how the flap occurred. The gentleman across, on the opposite bench, is recognizable by my frequent trips to Forsyth though this was my first conversation. 

Conversation is a stretch. I could barely understand the man whom I say must be from Brazil or thereabouts. A twinkle in his eye and an associated hint of wisdom seeped from his smile and I wished then that I had continued my studies of Spanish. 

The first man, the white guy, would have looked at home if he’d had a banjo in his lap. A grin remained his entire story. The most pleasant conversation of the day was with him. Intriguing to hear him say, with confidence, his story — even if outlandish, it makes me wonder how I came across him and to stop and speak. 

I do know that I wanted to try a second occasion of hypnosis. That’s why he saw my rock. He told me it was a “rough diamond” which very well may be true. As it does look like the pictures on the internet. Just that the quality is not top-grade. He denied my kooky request, he didn’t want anyone in his head. 

The guys were both surprised when I cozied-up and sat Indian-style between them, on the cement path. But with my relaxing day and my thirst for insight, I stayed to see what I could gather. Only a few minutes, but long enough to show support or friendship for these men. So many people walk by without a care of their safety or situation. Not like I did anything for them, except to listen to a story, shake their hands, and go about my business. 

The gathered result from the experience is that a stranger may have insight into your own life and you’ll never know unless you ask. But even if the clue is bogus, it may be worth hearing, if just to think. Surprising or not, I practically believe this guy but only due to the situation of my own and of that moment. Folks know things that they shouldn’t. Having abilities that boggle the mind and I’ve been meeting these people lately. I told him I’ll take it with a grain of salt. I have. I am. What is the next strange occurrence and what will they say? This isn’t the last intriguing moment, nor will it be. 

I anticipate much more in the near future, but once again, I don’t expect you to see it as I have, but only that people are not what you expect them to be. Oftentimes, they will surprise or shock you to see the relevance of their story to your moment. 

10:22 am, Wednesday, 12.20.17

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