Passing Things On

The weekend arrived with a faint edge of sadness. It’s Fabio’s last one here. There were no big plans to mark it — just coffee, lunch, and conversation kept deliberately light.

When long-term students leave the mountain, there’s always the quiet ritual of clearing out a room. Fabio was no different. He handed over the things he couldn’t take home — washing supplies, hangers, small objects that once mattered and now didn’t. Items passed on the way a dream moves from one person to another, already fading.

Then there were the bracelets.

I’ve never known anyone who loved beaded bracelets quite like Fabio. As a gesture of friendship, he gave me a couple — large, heavy things that I doubt I’ll ever wear. Still, they carry something of him, and that feels enough.

After breakfast, we went into town for coffee. Another friend joined us and asked a question people often seem curious about: how do Fabio and I communicate?

We don’t share a language. And yet, in the four months we’ve known each other, there’s never been a moment when we couldn’t understand one another. I’ve always assumed it had something to do with shared values, similar curiosity, and a comparable approach to work — though Fabio, without question, trains harder than I do.

We laughed and tried to explain it simply. Two men. Simple communication. Life in Wudang. None of us were entirely convinced by the explanation, but we all agreed it worked.

After lunch came a quick and painful massage. The TCM doctor looked exactly like the figure I’d always imagined — and it turned out his skill matched the image. Calling him “very good” wouldn’t come close. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The day closed gently. Dusk gave way to stars, and Fabio and I walked to the park to experiment with photography. Lately, I’ve been trying to capture the flow of Kung Fu in a single image — movement and stillness sharing the same frame. It took time. Trial and error. Small adjustments that changed everything.

After about an hour, we found a rhythm that worked. The images weren’t perfect, but they held something true. More importantly, they gave us a few last shared moments.

See you soon, my friend.
Stay safe. Stay smiling.