It's such a miracle! I have landed right in the middle of a lush green forest. I can hardly believe it. Everywhere I look, trees are waving their branches to welcome me. I will have a year of solitude to complete the editing of a manuscript. That project is the official reason I am here, but I think something inside of me is looking forward to the opportunity to unwind and get back to the essential peaceful Me.

I have known that Me before. The consciousness of the gap between that Me and the me that I live in the world remains a continual flickering in the background of my mind. I know they are not two separate me's. It's just that when I am totally living the life of the world, the connection gets so frayed that the quiet insightful Me becomes only a vague memory. Can a retreat from the world restore my urban-weary spirit?

Fortunately, my recent years in Arizona had some great moments that sparked my recognition that I am more than just an individual struggling in an indifferent world. However, I've been out in the world for so many years now—moving encountering adjusting—that it's a relief to think of settling far from the maddening crowd. I just want to sit quietly and let the layers peel back to reveal what is underneath.

I long to rejuvenate my creative mind with natural soothing tones of tree green and sky blue. As a bird, after the freedom of migrating across the hills and dells of vast and wonderful territories, wings her way to her nest to brood over her eggs each spring, I too anticipate unborn creations.

However, I never dreamed of the possibilities this lush green world could offer me. To be able to live in solitude is a once-in-a-lifetime event. It is so rare that I didn't even have a concept of the potential of discovering the many facets of Me. For the first time in my life, I am free of any external demands. I have no authority or partner telling me what when where or how to live my life. Then too, I have lots of leisure time. I take long treks through the forest. I build leaping bonfires on moonlit nights. I dig in the sandy moist earth. I plant seeds that expand in enthusiasm. Mostly, I take time to sit back and enjoy this wonderful world. This world holds such a myriad of creations, creatures and critters when we have time to be aware of them.

Day by day, I discover new treasures to delight my spirit: a blue heron, a tree frog, a giant butterfly. Week after week, I begin to feel I am participating in this natural spontaneous world. Then I begin to comprehend that I am indeed a part of this wonderful creation. My retreat away from life becomes a retreat into Life.

As time goes on, I begin writing about my personal epiphanies—and challenges of living in solitude. During my encounters with nature and myself, my concept of myself keeps growing and expanding. In sharing these personal experiences and thoughts, I hope that you may benefit vicariously, or better still have the courage to make your own experiment with solitude. However, some of my discoveries did not arise out of my personal solitude, for I had to resolve conflicts that sifted in from the external world. "Know thyself," as the Greek philosophers put it, is not only knowing thy free spirit, but understanding and accepting thy inconsistencies limitations shadows too.

My new home is a forty-year-old nondescript house with three small bedrooms that served as a ranch house for some thirty years. No one has lived in it for ten years, but my brother and his family use it as a weekend place very infrequently. When he offered it to me for a year, I couldn't resist. As soon as I enter the front door, I spot the glass patio doors. Immediately, I fly out to the large wooden deck that stretches across the back to take a look around. In every direction, I only see meadows and trees, a wonderland of green foliage and blue skies. I will be dwelling on a tiny green islet in the middle of Sam Houston National Forest.

A cool breeze ruffles my hair, calling my attention to the fantastic weather. Taking it all in, I throw out my arms and declare, "I don't know what temperature this is, but this is my best temperature. I can live with this climate any day, every day."

Later when I go out to catch the sunset, the sun has already lowered its orb behind the trees that line the fence. The meadow is shrouded with elongated dark shadows, while the pine trees along the fence still glow in soft light. Suddenly, I notice the light is gone and the whole forest is enveloped in a mystical haze, which is neither light nor dark.

Twilight—that quiet moment when the sunlight is gone, but darkness has not yet descended—is not to be missed. The earth stands still in meditation, as if taking a breather from its incessant activity. A gentle breeze blows for its own enjoyment. The trees pose for no one but themselves. The vast heaven spreads itself with a deep silence. We are in peace.