The Magical Old Man

“Sheesh, so much for a day off,” I whispered under my breath. It was a Sunday afternoon, a perfect California day of 72 degrees outside, and I was glued to my laptop - scurrying to draft up some last-minute emails my boss had requested I write before the start of the week. At the sound of my voice, Teddy, my 2-year-old Labrador retriever, perked up his ears with hope. “Alright, alright,” I said aloud, “I guess I can take a little break,” and before the words could even fully leave my mouth, Teddy had cheerfully bolted to the door.

The park we always went to was conveniently located right across the street, and filled with its usual weekend contenders – families, joggers, picnics, and endless new scents for Teddy’s nose to enjoy. I let Teddy off the leash and took a moment to close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, taking in all I could of the beautiful day. Upon opening my eyes, I scoured the park for my energetic pup – oh, there he was, vigorously licking the face of a man sitting under the shade of a nearby tree. “I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed as I ran over to save him from the slobber filled bath he was unwillingly having to endure. “Friendly fellow you got there,” he said to me, in between laughs. “Yes, he certainly is,” I replied, while placing Teddy back on his leash. I stepped back to apologize once again – when our eyes met. That’s when I really saw him. He was an older man, his clothes were faded and well worn-in, and there was cane that was propped up on the trunk of the tree behind him. My mind began to swarm with thoughts of concern. Was he ok? Did he need help? I was spiraling with questions when he asked, “Would you mind handing me that little black book over there, I think it fell out of my grip when your furry friend arrived.” Instantly embarrassed, I rushed over and scooped up the book. Handing it back to him, I could feel that it was special. It’s something I can’t really explain, other than a knowingness that I felt as the book passed from my hand to his. “Thank you,” he replied with genuine gratitude. I responded with a smile as Teddy and I began our short trek home.

Every day for the next few weeks, I went to the park around the same time, and every day I noticed the man sitting in his same spot under the aged oak tree. He would rotate between what seemed to be two different shirts combined with a pair of raggedy denim, causing me to believe he didn’t own much more. I had concluded that he may not have a place to live, and wondered if he slept in the park, though I saw no sure signs of that being so. He never bothered anyone for money or food, which seemed unusual to me seeing as how his outward appearance would made one think he could use the assistance. Instead, he sat there quietly, day after day, writing away in what seemed to be a possession he cherished deeply.

As I was leaving the park that afternoon, something hit me – the man’s book. I had recalled noticing the pages were nearing their end. It had been laying heavy on my heart to help the man in some way and this felt like how. Without hesitation, I jumped in my car and began my search for the closest replica I could find of the little black book. Once I had found one I thought to be perfect, I was over the moon with joy thinking of how pleased the man would be upon receiving this gift.

As I lay in bed that night, I could hardly sleep. The book was a wonderful gesture, but I couldn’t help feeling I wanted to do more. I was in a position financially to give, and came up with the idea to include a lump sum of money of which I would carefully place inside the front cover. Surely he needed it, I thought to myself, and figured slipping it inside the binding would be a discreet but thoughtful way of going about it.

The next day, I jumped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning. “Let’s go change a life today, Teddy!” I blissfully said aloud - and as if he understood me perfectly, we both dashed out the door. Teddy leading the way, we walked right up to the man. Our eyes met for only the second time, as I handed him his gift. “What’s this?” he curiously replied and began to open the front cover, revealing the money I had placed inside. I watched his face carefully as he looked at it and smiled. I was smiling too, when he motioned for me to sit beside him. “I thank you kindly, my dear – but I cannot accept this gift,” he said as he handed the book and its contents back to me. I was filled with confusion. “But, sir, I have money to spare and just want to help…” He gently grabbed my hands and told me not to worry, that he had never been without; in fact, he had plenty. To ease my mind, he explained in more depth that he worked hard for most of his life, earning money to possess material items he thought would in return, equate to more happiness – he told me how over time he realized that the world’s most valuable treasures cannot be purchased, but instead come from a magic that lies within us all. We sat for hours in the park that day, speaking about life, the power of our thoughts, the accessibility of abundance and so much more. He patiently answered each question I had, and thoroughly illustrated anything that was difficult for me to comprehend. By the time our conversation was nearing its end I could feel my whole-body tingling. I felt so rich in knowledge I wanted to shout my learnings from the roof tops – share these secrets with the rest of the world! “You see the greatest gift to me, would be for YOU to use this book, fill its pages with things that make your heart soar higher than the skies, and your mind expand vaster than the oceans,” the old man concluded. At those words, I hugged the book close to my chest. “I can’t thank you enough,” I said with happy tears brewing in my eyes.

That night I slept more soundly than I had in months, and I woke in the same euphoric state that had been carried over from the day before. As the afternoon approached, I gathered some things together and began to head over to the park. For the first time, I noticed the effortless beauty of the nature around me - the lush, vibrant, greenery of the trees, the blended aromas of different flowers, and the whimsical feeling I felt, as the wind softly brushed across my face. I sat down on the ground, removed my shoes and took delight in watching the blades of grass squeeze themselves between my toes. From there I opened my purse and pulled out a writing utensil and the infamous little black book. I flipped to the blank first page, and as I considered what to write I remembered – the old man! I had been so caught up in the pleasantries of the park, I had forgotten to look for him. It only took seconds of searching before I spotted him. This time he was already peering in my direction, smiling a warm, earnest, smile and I could feel his encouraging energy beaming from across the way. As we sat adjacent from one another, our backs against a tree of our choosing, both with journals in hand – I began to write my first words “This is the story of how a little black book changed my life…”