My month in New York blew by, like the hurricane that's making heads turn now, what do I have to do to make heads turn too? I guess if I powdered Midtown in layers of October snow, or if I drowned Battery Park in harbor water, or if I made lower Manhattan shiver without power days before Halloween, maybe that would do. But hey, I can't do any of those things while I'm here in sunny Flagstaff Arizona sitting on a bench waiting for the greyhound and its busloads of nobodies moving around in wifebeaters and love you mom tattoos. Ex-cons stare at nothing. Neither do I.
I'm reminded of a man named Church who came up to me in Union Square, 60something with stage II liver cancer, wanting to talk to someone about the importance of love. Religion, he said, was made by people who are afraid of hell. Spirituality was made for people who have been there. His eyes confirmed it. I can't say I've been there but I've been close, tho I'm not sure how close.
Heads turn for hurricanes, I turn for the Way.
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