Virgil

"I have squirrels in the attic. I use it to scare them. It isn't sharp".

I was in a stranger's house with a 'not sharp' machete. I took precautions. I asked him to send a picture of his government ID before I went over.

Picture matches face? Check.

Chip in ID card? Check.

USDA logo? Check.

I have family who've worked in the government. I know what the IDs should like.

Never in a million years did I think I'd be meeting someone off a dating app. Typically, I prefer a more organic approach but we're in 2021 and to survive you need to adapt. Thanks to Hinge I met someone the same age as my father. My father.

"Each time we meet could be the last time."

A sunset. Whiskey and lemonade. Every now and then, a puff. We had a ritual.

"No! Don't trust the research. Go directly to the source. I talked to Kennedy myself."

I don't remember how we went from machetes to Kennedy but we were there. Responding but not thinking about the response. Effortless conversation. Water.

There was mention of a tree in Lebanon. A motorcycle named Freya. Pyramids in college. An ex wife from Maine. A career on Wallstreet. Perfectly logical things to have seen and done by age 52.

Despite being perfectly logical things to have seen and done by age 52, I could not...CANNOT shake the feeling there was something bigger at play. I'm not a believer in coincidences. Something universal happened between us. A spiritual journey. Sunset, whiskey and lemonade, a puff. We had a ritual.

“[My YouTube profile] is Joe Lewis because I want to stay hidden on the internet".

For a split second, a second too long, I'd let my mind drift during our flow and come up with wild theories of government spies, old Norse gods, and dangerous outlaws. I needed to make sense of who he was, what he'd done. I needed to know why I had this feeling of grandeur around him.

He'd see me getting lost in thought and would pull me back with a logical comment. A comment so completely contradictory to my theories, it’d pull me back into the light, into the present.

The theory that stuck...he's Virgil. Sent to walk me through hell and lead me into purgatory. He was sent to cleanse. Not a guardian angel, a pagan soul.

His eyes were ominous. Trying to tell me pain was coming. I didn’t make the connection until later. Intense, dark brown saucers. So dark, I’d catch only a glimpse of his pupils when I felt brave. I was scared I’d get lost searching in the dark for too long. I didn’t want to face the dark.

“I’m sitting by the fire playing chess”

It was terrifying how he did it so easily, the scouring. He did warn me. He told me he played chess. At the time I didn't fully comprehend what it meant. Now I do. No hidden information. Abstract strategy. He was black, I was white.

He sucked out the poison. It was hidden in my subconscious and I was too scared to confront it on my own. Poison...administered in my early 20s. Poison...I hid and never released. Poison... that circulated and rotted my insides.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe.”

He scoured my subconscious. The shitty sleep is gone. The twisting thoughts are gone. The fear is gone. I have a lightened subconscious. Serene sleep is here. Thriving thoughts are here. Courage is here.

He was a fierce reminder to not drift away in the current of conversation, to stay present. The scouring was a fierce reminder to let things devour a little black book, not your subconscious.

“All of your questions will be answered”

Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the puff. Maybe it was the game of chess. I still have unanswered questions. I don't know how he did it. He released the fear. It’s not mine anymore.

Now it’s time for me to give him something in return. My philosophy? My cooking? My artwork? My music? My energy? ….my love?

How do you repay someone for something that sets your soul free? Is my story enough? Would $20,000 be enough?

"...find your passion, be a little selfish"