Permanence?

I’m beginning to think more about the concepts of forms, consciousness, and permanence. Every “thing” is just a “form” and we are conscious souls according to Eckhart Tolle, author of “A New Earth.” That reminds me of the story of how and where my husband and I met, dated and were married. We agreed to meet for drinks on a blind date at a Mexican-chain restaurant, “El Torito”. Years later, that beautiful stucco and tile roof building was demolished and a Best Buy and a parking lot were built in its place. On the same evening that we met, we enjoyed pizza across the street at a locally-owned Italian restaurant called “Page One”, also the place where my sister held her wedding rehearsal dinner two years earlier. Years later, that restaurant was demolished and replaced with a “Barnes and Noble” bookstore. Our first kiss was in the parking lot of a comedy club inside a Ramada Inn which is no longer in operation. My husband and I dated for a couple years. He proposed to me after dinner at The Crow's Nest, a riverside restaurant that's since been domolished. I’m sure there were other establishments that have come and gone. We were married at St. Joseph Catholic Church, which was remodeled and looks quite different, but still stands. On February 13th, we will celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary, so we are permanently united souls no matter what forms remain.

Companionship

Our family just spent a few days at Destin Beach for Easter break. My son and his friend entertained themselves for about an hour by digging a huge hole in the sand. Then, my seven-year-old nephew, Cooper, continued digging the same hole wider and deeper for hours more with some help. He had two plastic shovels so another boy came along to help. The boys were the same size and played together well on the beach—digging and throwing sand. At one point, Cooper showed the boy how to he could jump across the hole. He gestured to the boy to stand nearby and hold a shovel horizontally while he made a running start to traverse the gap. Then, Cooper held the shovel while the boy jumped across. I don’t know what holding the shovel had to do with the jump, but it was part of standing by. Each time, Cooper got a running start farther back to cross the hole and the boy copied him. My nephew was the leader and the other boy easily followed. The amazing thing is my nephew is deaf, but the other boy understood him. He never yelled at him or questioned why he didn't talk. I think that companionship needs no language. Sometimes, just being together in silence is all that we need.