November, Fourth Week

You can't just slow down all at once, it is a process. And I have had obstacles to soaking into my peaceful environment. I have already had my first houseguest. To be honest, I suppose you would have to say he was an under-the-house guest. One night last week when I snapped on the light of the covered porch to retrieve another box to unpack, I surprised an armadillo. He looked up at me as if to say, "I didn't know I had a house guest." However, he didn't run away. I hated to disturb him, but he was sitting right in my route to the door. When I finally did approach him, he scurried over to hide among some boxes. I was amused to note that, when he walked his armor made a sound that resembled the scraping together of two cardboard pieces.

Suddenly, I realized he had actually disappeared into thin air—or into one of my boxes. When I investigated, I found the loose board, which blocks the crawl hole under the house, had been knocked aside. I supposed that an armadillo could not damage anything, so I left him to come and go. Yet I see daily evidence of his presence, for he leaves holes around the yard from his digging of grubs for his dinner.

Rick, my first human houseguest, has not been a long time friend. Actually, he is a new acquaintance. Since we met in an environment of a consciousness seminar, we are destined to interact on a real and personal level. His idea is to experiment with the techniques of the seminar and also to help me set up a support group in this area. Although I love to be social and hope to share my space with others, I probably am not ready for any outside intrusion. However, the timing of his visit is decided by the fact that Rick is going to be in nearby Houston anyway.

Even though I've been here for a month, I have not ventured into the extensive National Forest that surrounds this property on three sides. So donned in bright orange caps and vests—regulation dress during hunting season—Rick and I go trekking into the thick woods. I am pleased to see a variety of trees, including several deciduous varieties, even some small sassafras and dogwoods. This forest is on the edge of the "piney woods" that run across all of the southeastern states, so I had expected to find only pine tree and a sporadic magnolia. They do grow naturally in these parts. Interestingly, I have found more signs of wild animal life on my brother's property than we encounter in the denser forest. And the trees are so thick that we manage to get disoriented a couple of times, but luckily are able to retrace our steps. I make a mental note to carry colored flags to mark my way whenever I venture out alone.

Rick is a strange medley of intellectual wisdom, perverse wit and humorous quips. He is so complex that I have to keep guessing whether he is relating to me as a teacher, mother, sister or friend. He seems to have a need to be accepted on all these levels, yet quickly switches personas any time I challenge him to respond in a meaningful way. Apparently attracted to me for my groundedness and my capacity for joy and light-heartedness, my encounter with him will surely challenge both qualities. It seems Rick carries his own baggage of past ghosts to undermine his own freedom.

After Rick's departure, I realize my well being is way down from when he arrived. I see no reason to try to wring any meaning from the experience; I think I will let this episode drift on by. It's not that you have been knocked off-center; it's how long it takes you to get back on-center, I remind myself. After all, that's the advice I always give my friends. So the countdown for recovery starts for me. The first step is to dance. Surely, it represents my happiest lightest brightest self. After only a few songs, I convert myself into my usual smiling energetic creative self, ready to welcome the world—well, maybe not soon.

I awaken the next morning realizing any semblance of a routine has been totally blown, not that I had much of one before. I definitely have not found time to start writing seriously. Up until now, I have been compiling, editing and sort of warming up. Certainly, having had someone here has made me aware of how I need a private space to be creative. One would think that human company would stimulate one's creative juices, but it just didn't happen that way.

This will be the first of many episodes with the "me" that wants to keep connected in the world, even though I have come here to create in the silence of solitude. Moreover, I want to use the time to think about myself: to consider my life's path, to discover if I am on track, where I am missing the mark, or just simply to take a long view at where I am now.

Interestingly, Rick's visit also has made me realize my aloneness. Although I have been alone, somehow I haven't realized that I am alone before. I have been so occupied with ideas and projects or, if I am out-of-doors, I am full of the delights of nature. I don't mean that being alone a bad thing. It is just a realization that has never dawned so profoundly on me before. Alone is an incredibly big awesome space.