Here I am, in a group selfie, with Warner Recabaren and his multi-talented daughter, Kyra. This was two nights ago, my last night in San Diego County.
Warner is yet another friend I met through the didgeridoo. He regularly hosts local didgeridoo gatherings at his ranch in a Shangra-la mountain valley in rural East County.
Soon after my heart surgery and change in my living situation, Warner invited me to stay in his trailer. The conditions were primitive, but I was waking up to nature. In the mornings, still in my pajama bottoms, I would take my cup of tea outside and enjoy being at one with my immediate environment. Heart surgery has a way of kicking you in the butt. Being out with the birds and coyotes was just what the doctor ordered.
Here is what I was looking out at:
And another pic:
And, of course, the mandatory turkeys:
As the days went by, I felt myself healing. I had dropped 24 pounds in the month after my surgery. Now I was putting most of it back on. My ribs had knitted back together, I could trust my heart to keep beating. I was becoming whole again. Time for eye surgery.
When I was able to focus on work, I managed to complete the second book in my Bipolar Expert Series, as well as finish the new iteration of mcmanweb.com, not to mention help Warner with a website. I also knocked two novels into shape .
Every once in a while I would pop over and we’d do didgeridoo together or I would just hang out with him and his family. As well as his daughter Kyra, I enjoyed the company of his most gracious wife, Karen.
Warner and his family are the model of people who were there for someone in a time of need. They were in a position to help, I was in a position to receive. I regarded myself as a guest. He and his family regarded me as a neighbor.
At last, it was time to make tracks. My body had mended. My soul had begun its next transformation project. My work was done. My stuff was organized. I popped into Warner’s place one last time. Karen was at work. Warner was about to drive Kyra to her hip-hop class. Just enough time for one quick didge jam. Then to sign my special road didge.
The road didge is a separate story. Basically, what is starting as a blank slate will be filled in by the end of my journey, when-or-wherever it may end. Warner wrote something and Kyra sketched in the mandatory turkey.
Didge in hand, I stepped out into the night. The rain had lifted, the clouds had dispersed. Above was a brilliant night sky dominated by the constellation, Orion. The magic of the valley. A true Shangra-la. Here, in this sacred space, with the aid of good neighbors, I succeeded in retrieving a small piece of my lost youth. I had a beating heart, along with vision that no longer required glasses. My soul, a constant work-in-progress, was on the mend.
New heart, new start. Thanks to a little help from my friends.