FROM A SPIRITUAL PERSPECTIVE
Oct. 9, 2009
By Mary Koch

            On the road again. I’m in Ashland, Ore., attending plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I started coming to see the plays in Ashland in the ‘70s. After we married, John and I spent a week here every year – frequently with other friends – until his stroke. This is my first time back in 16 years.

            Inevitably, this place evokes myriad memories, and my heart aches at times.

             “When you are sorrowful look again in your heart,” advises Kahlil Gibran, “and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

            And so I’m seeking a new adventure with new delights. I’m van-camping with my not-quite-purebred black lab, Daphne. A number of friends, after learning my plans, volunteered that they would love to go to Ashland with me. Not this trip. The van is already plenty crowded, what with Daphne, me and John filling it up.

            I had to invite John’s spirit along for commentary. I enjoy seeing the world through his eyes as well as my own. Live with a man long enough, and you pretty much know what he’s going to say and do.

            So, sitting across from each other in a newly-discovered restaurant, (the spirit of) John says, “You’re ordering the ‘black bean and corn salad, nested on a bed of quinoa’?” and he rolls his eyes. HE orders the deluxe hamburger, smothered in gorgonzola cheese and broiled over wood chips that were soaked in locally-brewed ale.

            I stare longingly at his burger as I chew my quinoa.

            Leaving the theater after a powerful performance of “Macbeth,” we are both mute, stunned by the performance, grateful that neither one of us wants to break the spell.

            Embarking on a trail hike with Daphne, we see a sign advising, “Black bear sighted in area,” and real, fresh sign nearby.

            “Black bears rarely attack,” John observes, reminding me how to react if I see one. Daphne and I – and John – keep hiking.

            This being both a theater and a university town, you never know what forms of human creativity you’ll encounter. As I drove through heavy downtown traffic yesterday, I spotted a naked man strolling purposefully along the sidewalk.  No one else seemed to be aware of him.

            At the play that evening, a woman from Ashland happened to sit next to me. I mentioned the man, wondering if he were a character of some local repute. She explained that Ashland has no ordinance against nudity, and there always seems to be some nude-nut taking advantage of that. Last year it was a woman on a bicycle. She’d heard of the man but hadn’t seen him.

            Though I’d seen him, I realized I could only vaguely describe him – other than his genitalia and uninterrupted tan. I think I saw him again this morning, though I can’t be sure. It was a little chillier than yesterday, and this man – if it was the same man – was wearing shorts.

            John’s comment?

            “No comment.”