Keith
Born 10 days apart, we were like two peas in the pod. Inquisitive Geminis, both of us are a truthful archetype associated with intellectual pursuits and curious minds thriving on idea exchange. We’ve had endless conversations on a wide range of topics, from the meaning of life, religion, family dynamics, and politics to personal freedom. On most topics we agreed, and we agreed to disagree on some others, mainly religion. Keith’s world view was influenced by emergent theory developed by the late Gregory Bateson and further researched by his daughter Nora Bateson. I looked into this work, and it simply did not cut it for me. I had an impression that the theory is too analytical for my liking, calling the yellow rose the ‘polyantha from the family Rosaceae’ instead of simply enjoying its tender shape and its subtle fragrance. The music of Mike Oldfield stirs something deep within Keith’s soul.
On the other hand, my perspective on life was shaped by the teachings of the late Dr. Wayne Dyer. Some of his ideas were very strange at the time when I started on my spiritual path. Such was the one where he was claiming that you are not doing anything; you are being done. As a believer in free will, this is a rather strange concept to grasp. Characterised by long walks or hikes through the forest, all I could hear in my ears were Dr. Wayne Dyer’s words: ‘God speaks in silence. God’s one and only voice is Silence’. Thanks to his life work of collecting and interpreting spiritual teachings all over the world and packaging them into an easy-to-digest narrative, I have fully immersed myself into this work, and my life and my life has synced with a higher vibration as I choose to ‘feel good.’ Influenced by these teachings, I can almost recite his words - such as ‘If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.’
Meeting Keith was an eye-opener for me, as I understood that he was carrying a childhood trauma too. I used to believe that growing up in the family that valued hard work where we children had to start working as soon as we were able, combined with my father’s death when I was 8 and the trauma of war, would lead me to think that kids who grew up in more developed societies, in the cities where there is no hard physical backbreaking work in the fields required of them, would be happy and content kids. Thanks to Keith sharing his story of a hostile father, I realised that we all carry some wounds from childhood even if on the surface things look just fine. He was able to forgive his father on his deathbed.
Keith and I were smitten with each other; I was divorced, and he was separated from his wife, and both of us were parents to two girls. However, we could not cross that next step from platonic relationship to romantic love. We would go everywhere together, holding hands, enjoying our favourite juice bar, driving to Katoomba, going to Bondi Beach; he would look after me when I was sick, do my shopping, and fold my washing. Being together and not being together. We were jealous, as all kids do get jealous, and we would stop talking to each other for weeks at a time, and then there would be a message, and we would be back into friend-romance, holding hands and walking barefoot into the shopping centre. There was a connection and attraction, and I had a hope that it would grow into something more, even after I returned to Adelaide, but it was probably never meant to be. When close friends enter a romantic relationship and it goes awry, it leads to a tremendous loss of a valuable friendship.
During one of those non-speaking periods, I wanted to keep my worm farm going in my apartment, but I needed to find live worms. I prefer to buy live things from people who grew them in situ than from stores where the same were kept artificially alive and most die shortly after you bring them home. So I found the ad of a lovely lady selling the composting worms, and since I preferred not to drive long distances over Sydney, I decided to catch public transport - given that it was the weekend, I needed to make three connections to get there and then back to bring my worms home. In a few days, when Keith and I caught up, I told him the story, including the suburb. He asked, ‘Which street did you get the worms from?’ so I told him the street. With his eyes dilating, he proceeded with another question: ‘What number?’ so I told him the number to hear next that it was the house in the neighbourhood where he grew up, just a few houses down from the double-story red brick house his mom still lives in, was surprising. I recalled the house in my mind as I am a keen gardener who enjoys looking at the houses and gardens on my walks. Who would have thought that out of all of the large metropolises Sydney is, I would walk past Keith’s childhood home in Allambie Heights, just like that?
At the present we are in the midst of our 5 years of not talking. When I proposed to stop communication for 5 years, he responded, ‘I’ll respect your wish.’ Although I did send a quick text to ask for his consent to share this story. The break expires in May 2027; I am sure we will have lots to catch up on then. Keith himself is a writer and writes sci-fi, which is not one of my usual genres. During one of my past life regressions, I recognised that Keith* incarnated as my son in that lifetime, so we are part of the same soul family. He is the best friend I ever had. Keith’s friendship is a reminder that even in your 5th decade, we are still carrying that scared little child inside that comes out to play when it feels safe. We promised each other when we were hiking out there that we would search for a waterfall. I always remember that when there is a talk about the waterfall.
*Keith has given me an approval to share the story about our friendship.