Patrick Tomby

Patrick Tomby

I was twenty-four when I met him

I was full of spit and vinegar

Had lots of false bravado

Secretly, I was oh so confused

Didn't know left from right

Couldn't tell which way was up

And which way was down

Patrick Tomby was old and gray, north of seventy

Wore a blue baseball cap, carried a cane

He had a limp, drank gallons of black coffee

Ate peanuts by the pound

We sat around down at Sambo's

Every Saturday night

During the summer of nineteen seventy-nine

He told me tales of climbing mountains and crossing deserts

Did a stint as a merchant seaman

Was traveling trader a time or two

Served in an army, raced cars for a little while

Talked to Buddhist monks in Tibet

Saw the red square and Tiananmen

Said he was always looking

For what he did not know

Along towards the the end of July, I confessed to him

'Said, “Patrick, I'm lost and I wander

I always have a longing

A hollow and empty ache inside

I don't know what to do or where to go”

He said, “Well, I know that son.

So I'll tell you that one day I was walking

South of a little village in Uzbekistan

The grass swayed gently by the roadside

A sparrow sang from a bush nearby

And I realized that whatever it was

I'd been seeking all my life

Was already in my heart and mind, with me all the while

And the only reason I didn't understand

Was because I'd never bothered to look at myself

And take an adventure deep inside”

If you don't know what life is all about

If you are a seeker, always longing to know

Then look far within yourself

Find the paths to the bright center inside

You might be surprised at what you see

When you come out on the other side

Dewey Dirks

From “The Questioning Way”