The Essence of Your Place

There have been many notable times in life when I had the presence to say to myself, “this group of people will probably never be together again.” The day I graduated high school was one of those times. The concerts in Nepal was another. I couldn’t ever imagine a time when that same group might all be together in one place, and that thought haunted me. There is a related group of people I came to know as the SoulFood Coffee House Tribe. The regulars at the coffee shop and music venue where Clint (who went with me on that first trip to Nepal) and his wife, Sara, created a most stellar and unique community. This place was where everyone came to be. Simply to be. Community members were referred to as “brothers and sisters” or “beloveds.” Everyone who entered, from the baristas, to the regulars, to the artists who hung their creations on the walls, to the “peace, love & light” groups who gathered in drum circles, was a member of the Tribe.

Sara honored me by asking me to host my book opening at SoulFood back in 2011. She was incredibly supportive of my writing and my book. John ran the sound system for all the music talent who played. Each of the baristas had an unforgettable personality. Craig was one of the first people I met. He had thick dark brown hair that would swing into one eye, a sideways grin that often make him look like he was about to stir up trouble. Lily, was the sweetest, she had a penchant for dainty floral dresses, and was always interested in what I was up to. Sara introduced Craig’s brother Taylor to me as “the Tribe’s best lucid dreamer,” which she exalted with admiration and genuine intrigue. Michail was the Tribe’s well known and most beloved poet, and Rick was the resident astrologist. The community also included a parade of painters, tattoo artists and musicians, who floated easily through the doors on any given day. Shelves not covered in books, displayed an overabundance of incense, prayer flags, brass bells and sage smudges.

It was a place I’d go to feel the vibe that this community created. After Clint, John and I returned from Nepal, I frequented the place enough that most of the Tribe knew who I was. I was always grateful to see a face behind the espresso machine who would greet me so warmly and sincerely. I felt comfortable getting lost in the soft chairs. Patchouli often lingered in the air, along with dark roast and steamed milk. It’s one of those unique smells that hides in memory until it’s unlocked by smelling it again. Lighting was like a comfortable living room – perfect for reading near a window, or cuddling over coffee with a friend. All of it had been curated by these “post-holders.” When I was there, I’d occasionally study book titles I had never seen before, and run my hand over carved wood or cast brass – uncommon items from the other side of the world. I was unaware how accustomed I’d become to the feeling of being instantly adored when I walked in. Just for being part of that community. Yeah, I suppose it was a little like a Seattle version of Cheers.

As much as it should have occurred to me, I admit I never had the clarity to acknowledge that this group of transient folks, passing though a coffee shop might at some point never be together. But Clint and Sara handed off the ownership of the adored coffee shop to new people. Much of the community remained intact, but the baristas I was most friendly with eventually moved on, and Clint and Sara moved out of the area, so the energy shifted, and before long, I didn’t see familiar faces when I walked in the door. The dynamic duo who never called themselves anything other than “post holders here at SoulFood” no longer held posts. The shape of it changed. Life shifted for me as well. I stopped going, and though I missed the vibe and the Tribe immensely, I moved on.

Years passed, people drifted, and then we all locked down and didn’t see each other for two years. SoulFood has always relied on their community when times are rough, so tonight they held a fundraiser to keep the little coffee house in Redmond open and sustainable. And here we all are, at a place, with a group of folks I never thought I would be again.

Clint and Sara anchored the event as the closing act. Once everyone knew they were coming, the Tribe showed up. When I arrived at 7:45 pm for their performance, most of the old tribe was in the house smiling, swaying to the guitar, and greeting each other with affection and enduring smiles. I took a seat. The guy setting up microphones and adjusting cables looked familiar… but I wasn’t sure… I watched him for a long moment, then in his motions, the stage light caught his eyes. I was almost sure I knew who it was – John who had gone to Nepal with us! I had to double take, then run over and ask Sara, “Is that John?!”
Echoing the look of amazement on my face, she gave an affirmation and we both shook our heads. “I haven’t seen him in almost a decade,” I said.
“It’s been almost that long since he’s been here.” When I turned toward the sound booth, Julie, John’s girlfriend, greeted me with “Ohhhh, Edika from Amedica! We were so excited when we heard you were coming!” She and I traded memories about mala beads and times past. She led me over to the sound booth where the two of them were setting up for Clint’s performance.

I’ve known Clint’s music for over a decade. His poetry is never loosely chosen, and his voice is still smooth as velvet, and powerful like a freight train. He has an uncanny knack for drawing you in with his stories of life.

Rick  waved from across the room. Moments later I spied Lily and Craig! It felt like a homecoming. I had a grin on my face the rest of the  night. I spent time roaming through the people, greeting faces and hearts I hadn’t seen in so long. It’s been so long.

I first met my good friend Marcelo a decade ago at SoulFood. He had attended my book opening and we immediately connected over travel stories. He was originally going to meet me for the event, but he got trapped by work and realized late that he wouldn’t make it. As soon as I arrived, he sent a text asking me to take video, then followed up with, “Is his voice still as amazing as ever?”
“Yes,” I replied. “All the feels!” Then he pleaded for me to take a little video so he could hear the performances next time we met up. So I did. I didn’t anticipate showing it to anyone except a friend or two, so I did what I could with my old phone, while greeting beautiful, familiar faces in the crowd. There weren’t many words, because the feeling in the room was so strong, almost none were needed. Just the time to connect in person.

When I got home I was so full of bliss, the above set of words rolled out of me effortlessly, driven by emotion of the night. The next morning Sara asked me if I had any video to share. So I spent a week putting the rough cuts together, and here it is.