It wasn’t too long ago that I saw my friend Raul at the winter solstice drum circle. Down here in Fort Lauderdale area, Floridian hippies celebrate their good fortune in weather by getting together on solstices and equinoxes and dancing around a bonfire in circles. Relax, they’re just hippies listening to people play drums.
I showed up at this clearing in the dark by myself, as I often do with these sorts of things. It’s enjoyable enough to just soak it in without the effort of having to interact with people. I covered myself with a scarf and sat in lotus position, the universal sign for “I’m meditating, don’t bother me.”
I “meditated” for a long time, content to be alone, until I heard a familiar sound. My friend Raul’s flute! It was always a surefire way to track him down, that flute. A quena, from Peru, where his family heralded from. I hadn’t seen him for months, so I forsook my solitude and emerged from the shadows to say hi.
Raul was, of course, happy to see me, and immediately escorted me over to the area where he had been gathering stray people. He had a good way of introducing people to each other so that they could break out of their shells and entertain themselves while he wandered back into the dance circle to connect with more. He would always be so hospitable – do you want to play my drum? My didgeridoo? My flute ? Make yourself at home in my space, and by the way, do you need water?
Raul. Definitely a good caretaker and facilitator of space. He was there to welcome all the newcomers and invite them to flow, easing them in past their hesitation to relax and get immersed in the fun. An uncomplicated and steady person whose mission always seemed to be one of pure enjoyment.
If it hadn’t been for him, I probably would never have become integrated with the South Florida community. He was one of the first people to really welcome me in when I showed up at a drum circle on the beach back in 2016, loitering around the outskirts and wondering whether to approach. He was the one who told me about the Wednesday night drum circles in Delray, my home base for socializing and unwinding when I first came down to South Florida, lost and confused. It was through him that I met the majority of the friends I have there today.
Raul and I reminisced about this at the solstice circle, catching up on years of missed communications and different journeys. We hung out around the fire that night, and I apologized for not telling him that I had been in town for weeks already. He told me not to worry about it; he understood that everyone gets busy. We would hang out when the time was right.
At the end of that night, he told me he had planned a trip to Brazil, and would be exploring the medicine of the jungle. I was excited for him; finally, I thought, something for him to do outside of his usual pattern. Something fun, something life changing.
I didn’t expect this to be the legacy he left with that trip
Raul was swept away in a flash flood a few days ago. He was just hanging out at a waterfall with friends, no doubt having a wonderful time with that carefree nature of his. The water rose, he lost his grip, and that was that. They gave up the search and rescue mission a few hours ago.
As I drift off to sleep, I’ll focus on the memories of his goofy smile, his flute, his good nature. It’s a downright shame. Really, we’ll be missing him, and these gatherings won’t ever be the same without him.
Rest in peace, friend.
