Yesterday as I sat down on Ronald’s sofa with a large (closed) drawing pad beside me, Ronald emerged from his last session, excused himself for a few moments and urged me into his office. I didn’t dare open the pad because I had other things to talk about first. It was a therapy session after all.
Ronald showed up with a small decorative bag in his hands; I didn’t notice until after he’d shut the door and sat down, but it’s all such a wonderful space to be in and that bright, sheeny gold and copper sac with a yarn pull ending with a beautiful tassle was just par for the course: it belonged.
Ronald handed me a foil-wrapped package first: â€œBirthday Browniesâ€ he said, smiling. Usually I don’t very much like being stuck for words, but there in that place, and he, there in that place, I could do nothing but let the silence of inability echo itself out. Then he handed me that sac. I hesitated to open it because customs differ, but he quickly encouraged me to do so.
Let’s go back a week: I had emailed Ronald asking him where he got his teas from, the ones he has out and available in his waiting room. He emailed me back, but I never got around to going to get them (lazy bastard that I am).
I’d asked Ronald last time to schedule me sometime yesterday, April 3, because I wanted to spend some part of my birthday with him. No more and no less. His company, his sage advice, the organic silences he allows to ripen on the vine; and for that matter his simple kindnesses and general spirit, altogether: a safe haven for The Sea Child, if for just a litle while.
Litte-whiles are important, but the levels of their importance is solely up to you.
Be warned: stay too long an you’ll lose a limb; little-whiles make no promises.