She said I was a Mench

I reference my friend from my posting of Sept.4,2009. She called me a Mench. This woman had woven in and out of my life through various classes and workshops. She was there from the beginning of my infamous poem "The Rabbits"  She was there when it first appeared right out of my unconscious..in a free flow session of writing of which we were to pull lines to form into a poem. Somehow it was time for that memory to be released. It was about a long buried memory from childhood. Needless to say there are folks who hate strong emotion and there are those struggling to keep their's tightly capped.
She is the one who encouraged me to write on,when one day I overheard a very tightly wound woman in the class say "I hope we don't hear anymore about rabbits this afternoon." Those words just about killed the emerging poet in me. My friend came to me when she saw me sitting alone on the council ring overlooking Lake Michigan. She befriended me that day and many days afterward. Most times a kind word,a hug,an encouragement.."you are a powerful writer,that is given to few..you must keep writing..hone your skills..but keep writing and forget about cowards like her. You dare to look where most will not even peek. She called me a mench. I didn't ask her what it meant..but she said it with a smile so I figured it meant I was a character.  I have since learned that it means a human being,upright,honorable,decent,someone to admire. I could cry just thinking about her calling me that. Bless her.
 She also called me a writer. Bless her for that.
So that day when I walked the Labyrinth with her (see Sept 4th posting) little did she know that she had changed the trajectory of my life by knowing her....a Mench
I have learned to be a gatherer. Many reach out to us and we don't see. She set that right with me. Now I listen with the keanest ear. I admire and honor the wisdom of wise women who have walked before me. Everything we need to know to live a beautiful life is out there for our taking .... seizing.
I have learned to flutter around beautiful healthy flowers,not wasting my time on dying or dead ones..they have no sustenance for me. Being with them I will die of starvation,my wings slowly ceasing their flutter..closing up....a dead beautiful butterfly..but dead nontheless
I like Menches....I am always on the lookout for them....but usually they find me.
Thank you, Judith.