Three Brendans

I went to St. Brendan's grammar school in San Francisco. In Fresno, I was introduced to a young man named Brendan with whom I have kept contact for a time. He is now a lawyer. The third Brendan I met quite accidentally and indirectly. In Yosemite, I presided at 700 weddings at the least. People came to Yosemite to be married for its place, space, and unique moment.

A particular wedding stands out. Not because I knew anything about the people. They were all strangers to me. But I went to the reception and was standing next to a stranger, whom I did not know was the mother of the groom. We exchanged clever small talk till accidentally the name of the poet Hopkins came up, whose birthday is today, which she reminded me via e-mail.

We both loved the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins. It was an instant unsayable connect.

One of her sons is named Brendan, the third Brendan in my life, and though remote to me now, the most inspiring. Long story short, he came to visit me in Yosemite before he had a career. I have had no direct connection with him since then. He was unusually open and engaged in the present moment. His mother, however, has remained a constant friend.

It is the third Brendan and his career that is the most spiritual because his lived life transcends the false distinction between body and spirit, which I will try to write about soon.