Sparkles, a Feather and Books.

    I was trying to write a blog post in between class, something about submission guidelines; date, time, I NEED YOUR WRITING, ART, etc... but I found myself in a hazy conversation with a soft spoken, young Hispanic guy. He was gangly and brown skinned with a silver, sparkly bandana tied around his head in a Bret Michaels sort of fashion. Tucked into the back of his headdress was an ashy, eight inch feather sticking up proudly. 

    He concentrated on me and gently touched my shoulder, then daintily reached out and shook my hand with his collection of whimsical bracelets clinking and sparkling due to my much heftier shake. He seemed to be staring off in the distance even though we were making eye contact ...but his stare was so vague and innocent; he was constantly smiling. I was the only awkward outsider in this meeting; sort of like an interaction between Michael Jackson and a perplexed interviewer.  I felt as if we were carrying on a quiet conversation in a cozy spot, high up in a tree. I almost thought I was high. 

    His presence was strangely calm and I made no gesture that he was bothering me in any way. He showed a flash of energy, and whipped out a flyer as he recalled a free meditation class he attended on Tuesday. He declared it was beautiful and I believed him. He interrupted me again to tell me he had a facebook and then asked me to watch his things while he went to brush his teeth. I spied on him as he walked to the women's restroom with his travel size, pink toothbrush and toothpaste. He returned with bits of dried toothpaste around the corners of his mouth, the way kids look when they brush their teeth carelessly in the morning before school. 

    As I was refocusing and attempting to do some work, he tapped my shoulder for the last time and mentioned that he loved music, especially Metal. He held up his hand in the rock n' roll gesture and grinned. I almost didn't want to go because I was finally completely intrigued by him and the random thoughts he spoke aloud to me, a stranger in the library. I reluctantly told him I had to go and that it was nice meeting him. Walking down Bartlett St., I left the library feeling a little superstitious. The encounter with the young man with the headband and feather was my mind's version of what a modern day shaman would look like and I almost felt like his relaxing and warm presence was his healing power and medicine over the people he approached.