Yesterday evening, one of my neighbors, Cheryl, was walking down the alleyway behind my house while I was sitting on the back patio listening to music and enjoying a cold beer. She hadn’t seen my red brick patio yet so she came back to take a look. While she was there, Pierre, my shaman-guru-minister-to-my-soul neighbor, and a buddy of his staying with him and Sue for a while joined in. We chatted about Lincoln Creek and the work the skilled laborers had done. Cheryl continued on her walk and Pierre and Todd stayed to enjoy the Coors they brought with them (and one for me).
We visited about house projects and trees and angels walking among us. We talked about how much of life is really good even in the midst of loss. We spoke of gratitude and what it means to have your heart turned off and the work needed to turn it back on.
Bryan knew the importance of gathering places, especially in the interstitial spaces between the public and private. Those buffering zones allow us to share a little more intimately with our community–deeper conversations than a tip of the hat and “how do?” on the sidewalk.
I have made sometimes glib comments about “church of the porch” or “church of the patio,” but I think spaces where people can be open and vulnerable with each other even in small measure helps us to be more connected. Those connections are bonds forged, fabric woven.
Feryl Files 