Light On The Soul

The light flickered. On. Three seconds. Off. Three seconds. On. The neon green sign read: “Light On The Soul.” It was an up-and-coming vlog that sought out interesting breakout stories.

The subject today: A meticulous man. Every day was routine. He’d open his eyes. Close them again. Lay quietly for ten minutes. Get up. Put his house shoes on. Wash up and down. Have two glasses of water with splashes of key lime. Sit in a chair and scan his body for forty-five minutes to an hour. Then he’d sit and write for an hour. After that pick up a book. Either fiction or non-fiction depending on where we found him on the cycle. He would always alternate between one fiction and one non-fiction. He turned on some music and prepared a simple breakfast. Oatmeal with maple syrup or a bowl of fruit. Lastly, he stepped outside to breathe the air and observe the surrounding area, which was country land half a mile all around.

It was a home interview. Set up to give a “Truman Show” kind of vibe. Lunch was served. Sandwiches and camera lights.

“You guys don’t waste time do ya?” Ron came in from the kitchen and sat with the grace of a Buddhist swan. He gazed out the window for a few seconds, gave three long breaths in and out, and positioned himself to face me.

“Mr. Will, your time is valuable to us. We wanted to make sure everything was in place and ready to go,” I kept cool and signaled the cameraman to queue up.

“Ah, no pressure here, boys,” Ron said with the utmost care and humility. “I’m no more important than you are.” He had a reputation for deterring status. It meant more to keep a balanced state of being and enjoy ourselves. “Well, I’m ready.”

“Roll camera. Now, tell us at what point you began the journey for what is now a legendary run.”

Ron grabbed the pitcher of key lime water and poured a glass for him and me. He began, “My mid-thirties. I traded my dreams for what I thought was destiny. Turns out it was more the product of a set of choices, maybe even karma. I had a way of initiating all sorts of schemes with people and then bailing mid-way through. My own pursuits were clearly no different. I allowed my mind to be impressed by so many beliefs and went head first into situations with little to no idea how to conduct myself like a normal human being. I was gullible. I believed damn near anything without much inquiry. I became a follower.”

“I see. What did you do to shift the momentum?” I sincerely wanted to keep the focus on Ron as his genius is what stands out.

“I started taking control of my body. There were a series of techniques for relaxation and focus. For me, the time developing a process has been priceless. The years spent galavanting about craving experience for the sake of it took a major toll. There was a time I risked it all. Fifteen years of cultivating a skill only to push it aside to fit in. Afraid of the pressures the world might inflict being in the limelight. I questioned how worthy I was of success. What could I attain with my gift? I found work as a creative writer for the local paper in my early forties. That turned into inspiration to get back into writing music. I had a knack for hip-hop lyrics and I could sing and play guitar a bit. So, I went for it. I wrote the first chart-topper at forty-nine and released it the following year once I had collected four others to stack the production of music.”

“Thirteen number one hits after fifty years of age is impressive. Do you have any advice for the listeners who feel their time has passed?”

“My greatest advice is, don’t take my advice. Find your path and stick to it. Whatever it is that fills you up. Dive in, head first, and swim in it. Breast, back, or butterfly strokes. This is your one-hundred years.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Will. We do appreciate your time and look forward to more on your story.”

“My pleasure guys. Take care.”