Another Monday dawns early in the desert. I watch the sun’s rays creep over the horizon and slowly illuminate the smoking coals of last night’s fire. I notice how the bottles in the wall glow and shine just like they did last night illuminated by the flames. Whether sunlight, fire or electric lights I can’t help but admire the work I did in building the wall. The other thing I always think about when I look at the wall is Charlie.
I spent three months assembling this section and everyday Charlie and I would begin the day by looking at the work done and the work to be done. It was a slow process and it sometimes took weeks before you could really notice a difference. Charlie would always encourage me by telling me how good it was coming along and thanking me for the work. I would always defer to him as my inspiration and thank him for allowing me to contribute to East Jesus. Then he would go off to do whatever projects he had for the day and I would begin the slow process of mixing mortar and picking out bottles for the next level.
Sometimes I would do something to piss him off like break one of his rules but then again he had told me to break all the rules in the construction of the wall so he should have seen it coming. Some days we would spend several hours with no communication between us, both lost in the simple joy of working with our hands. Other days we would debate the newest thing that was currently sweeping through the outside world or Charlie would describe the future of East Jesus.
When Charlie painted that picture in your head you could actually see it. The rows of olive and fig trees, the raised garden beds, the vine covered geodesic dome or just the tree covered music room came fully imagined to the mind when he explained it with his passion. Like others I bought into the dream and wanted to be a part of that future.
So when I look at the wall and I think of Charlie I wonder how he views all this work we are doing here. It is a slow process and sometimes it doesn’t feel as if we are getting any closer to the dream. Other times I smile when someone says that things are so different from the last time they were here a month ago. This place must constantly mutate to accommodate all the love it keeps receiving, it must continue to change and evolve if it is to truly live.
We’ve had several more visitors this month. Guessing no one got the notice about how hot the desert gets in spring. But even with temps over 100 we’re still amazed at the people who not only visit but free up their schedules to get dirty and do some work. Nick Morgan was an art car friend of Charlies and he rode his motorcycle in and parked and got right down to making art, correcting the wind generator and lending a hand with the daily chores. And he isn’t an isolated or unusual event but more the norm for the friends of Chasterus.
We are heading into May and in under two weeks will be recognizing a day when we all lost something very dear. We realize too late in life how valuable our friends are and sometimes too late to truly express how much they mean to us. I know my friend Charlie was prepared to leave this plane but do any of us know what are departure will mean to others? Have we told enough people of our dreams for the future, do we even have any? Who will we trust with our torches?
I turn away from the wall and motivate myself to get started on my chores. I know Charlie’s spirit is here encouraging not only myself but every person who has spent an hour here. Why else would so many people say that they feel a calm, peaceful feeling here? Why else would so many people fall in love with East Jesus and genuinely care about it? Why else would so many people thank us for welcoming them.
So on May 11th take the time to enjoy the sunset and maybe introduce a friend to a chocolate martini while you discuss the future.