Wow, man. I've been stuck in 60's mode all week, wearing my Birkenstock's, long skirts and tie dye. I watched the 40th anniversary Woodstock DVD this weekend and am feeling all peace love and music, got to get back to the garden.

Groovy.

Sometimes I think I should have been a teenager or young adult in the sixties so I could have been with my kind. But I sort of feel that way about the 40's too... and the 20's and the 1800's and the 1500's.

Jim Morrison never made it to Woodstock - I think he was probably too cool or too dark and not really into the hippie movement. The Doors may also not have been invited after the Miami incident.....no one can really say for sure. In any event here I am doing my best Jim look. He was the King of piercing eyes and pouty lips.

I am the Lizard Queen.....I can do anything.

I could have lit his fire.

I'm not much of a Facebooker. I have an account but I infrequently post status updates or pictures there. I do think it's a great way for people to find you though, if you want to be found.

So the other day out of the clear blue I received a friend request from an old friend who I've been wondering about over the years.

He was the boyfriend of one of my good friends but we clicked and connected on a mental and spiritual plane that was hard to describe: completely platonic, almost brotherly / sisterly, but very strong.

There I would be, a sullen teenager chilling in my bedroom late at night and out of nowhere I'd hear a knock on the window and it was him. He was a big guy too even as a teenager, about 6.4 with broad shoulders. He had long dark hair that reminded me of Jim Morrison and he always wore this leather jacket. I was afraid the noise of his leather scraping up against the window panes as I pulled him in would wake the house.

We would climb up into the crawlspace of an attic that was above my bedroom and no more than 5 feet high with an unfinished floor. To this day I wonder how the ceiling never caved in and collapsed with the weight of us moving around up there. We sat with our legs crossed, facing each other with a candle burning in the middle and as we listened to the psychedelic music of the sixties (even though we were in the eighties) we would just ponder, pontificate, and ruminate the meaning of things over great music for hours. Somehow we figured out that all the answers existed in the Doors lyrics.

He was an old soul and introspective like me. Not a lot of other people we knew were like us, not at that age. As a teenager dealing with my parents divorce at the time it was a friendship that provided a distraction and meant a lot to me. I always looked forward to our chats. Even if we were out at parties with hundreds of people we would find our way off onto a trail in the woods or to a big rock overlooking the lake and just fall into these deep conversations that always left me feeling....inspired.

He was a few years older than me so he graduated before I did and then he moved away and we lost touch. I knew from mutual friends that he moved to Colorado and I heard he was touring with the Grateful Dead. I'd hear stories from the road over the years and I'd always think of him fondly and hope he was doing well.

Cut to twenty + years later and thanks to Facebook we're back in touch!

He said when he joined FB I was one of the people he was most looking forward to reconnecting with and he told me I look exactly the same as I did back then. That if he saw me on the street he would still be able to immediately recognize me in a crowd. And he recounted our connection the same way I had recollected it all of these years.

Far out.

He asked me if I still listen to the Doors, "of course," I said. I also think it's ironic that the universe reconnected us during hippie week.

Peace