You may think, is the "blown away" of this blog about that wind storm? No. Maybe the nose blowing then? Another no. The "BLOWN AWAY" of this blog is about a synchronicity too crazy for words.
The phone rang last night around dinner time, but I didn't get to it before the call went to voice mail. When I checked the message, the voice of a long time friend I've been out of touch with surprised me. A letter now and then or a Christmas card are the remains of a once close friendship. "Hi ML," the message said, "I have a proposal or at least a question. Give me a call when you have time."
Hmm, I wonder what this is about?
After dinner I dialed the number. "Oh, ML it's you. Nice to hear your voice," as though it was weeks not years since we talked last. "I remembered a conversation we had about art making." she went on to say. "Unlike some artist I know who just make art and don't fuss about it, we are slowed down by perfectionism. I thought maybe we could encourage each other. I clean my studio more than I make art."
It was as though she knew I spent the afternoon cleaning my studio. An interesting coincidence, but not on the level of "blown away."
Then it happened. She said, "Today I remembered a poem that speaks to me. Do you know it? When I Met My Muse." I couldn't believe my ears. I opened the book of William Stafford poems right there next to me to the bookmarked poem When I Met My Muse. "Did I hear you right?" I asked. "Did you read my blog?"
"No, don't you remember, I'm not computer literate. Why do you ask?"
"Because I wrote about that poem on my blog yesterday. I have the book of Stafford poems right here."
My friend's voice on the other end of the phone didn't miss a beat. "You know it then. Aren't the last lines beautiful?"
. . . . . "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.