Okay. This doesn't occur every morning, but it does occur many mornings. I wake up with no clue where I am, and I find these burning questions on the tip of my tongue:
Where am I?
Who am I?
Why am I here?
What am I made of?
Of course, there is never a satisfying answer to any of these questions. I just stumble through my days in a great cloud of unknowing. I do the best I can. This morning I wake up in a neighborhood of wealth and luxury. It's definitely foreign territory. I don't really belong here. I am surrounded by enormous mansions, some of these gargantuan homes are over 100 years old. Big, looming, houses, near one of the largest, of the quite large, Great Lakes. I have no clue how anyone can afford to live in such a neighborhood. Unimaginable wealth.
I am surviving on a "wing and a prayer," I am a marginal character, on the fringes, relying on the "kindness of strangers." It is so odd to be here, knowing that I don't really belong here. It's all just smoke and mirrors, luck and pluck. I can't even trace the chain of events that brought me here. It's a long, crooked path; one with scenes of failure, adventure, misadventure, bad & good luck. I mean, it's all quite strange. Not totally disagreeable. I mean, in some ways it is totally, thoroughly, amazing.
I am in some luxurious paradise. Like I said, I don't belong here. A "Stranger in a Strange Land." A bit like Dorothy or no, maybe more like Toto in Oz. Funny. The last few days it has all been about the light. I really noticed the light of the days. And the trees. I am surrounded by these magnificent trees. I mean, the trees are even more amazing, enthralling, inspiring and profound than the homes. I do feel a connection to the trees. Once I noticed them, it's all I can do now: observe the trees. I am drawn to the trees. I study them, commune with them, meditate under them. They almost seem holy. I think really they "own" the neighborhood. I mean, they are the "real" inhabitants. We are just guests. All of us Human Beings. Maybe all the people are actually squatters, invaders? I'm not sure, but definitely I feel like a squatter, an invader, a being, out of place...
