A glorious morning, with the light breeze that is a constant for this house, resting on the southern ridge of the Laguna Canyon, clear blue skies, and temperatures that hover in the mid-70's belied the news awaiting me on opening this morning's Orange County Register.

It had been my pleasure and great amusement to meet Brad Dillahunty six months ago. At the time, I'd been struck by the idea that the kid had to be on some form of speed. His method of talking was fast, the ideas that flowed were always a combination of depth, humor, and succinct intellect. And always rapid fire, as if he were a reincarnation of an early 80's Robin Williams, only without the constant voice changes.

This fine, glorious morning, I opened the paper and saw a picture of Brad with his life dates as captions. Last week, after being part of a surf camp in San Diego, Brad lost his life in an car crash. He was a 24 year old passenger in a vehicle being driven by a 51 year old man, whom police suspect was under the influence. Of course, cosmic justice being skewed as it so often is in these instances, the older man survived the accident, and Bradley is lost to us.

Over time since our initial meeting, Brad's nature came to be more evident. He was a guy who was creative, musical, loving, and wickedly smart. What's more, he had an understanding that his flame burned too brightly. He admitted to me that he knew certain aspects of his life didn't lend themselves to longevity, yet he felt comfortable that like so many other artists, his lot was to make as great an impact in as short a time as possible.

He responded to Taoism, often asking about the nature of paradox, how good needed evil as much as darkness needed light. He was struck by the honesty of learning to do nothing and thereby leave nothing undone. Although quick to cling to the joys of this world, he always was striving to connect to the energy of the universe in deeper and broader ways. I looked forward to being his friend as he matured, and was anxious to see how he would continue to impact his world, and grow within his place in it.

Brad's gone now. Where his spirit has found sanctuary is not mine to guess. I thank all that is Holy that I met him, that I experienced his rich humor, his ancient soul, and his trust. And it warms my heart to know that even briefly we could connect, and that he counted me as a true friend.

Farewell, my brother. In time, we'll surf the skies.