Chapter 3

I quit my job, caught a plane and now I am in a comfortable chair flying through the air over Lake Superior.  A friendly stewardess had left me with a delicious BLT sandwich and a rum and coke with lime, both of which I finished while looking out the window at the Canadian scenery that slowly drifted out of sight below me.  By the time I finished eating, beautiful fluffy clouds occupied all the available viewing space.

Yes, the gentle people at the healing place have contacted me with permission to come and live with them for as long as I need to.  I have enough money to stay with them for a couple months at which time I hope to have found a new place to live and a new job.  I am willing to settle my life anywhere that will work.

They wrote me that when I get there I will be able to choose from a variety of available bedrooms and that I can try each one out until I find the bedroom that I feel the most comfortable in.  The diversity of available bedrooms is pretty impressive.  I could live in a yurt, a greenhouse, a camper, a bedroom in the main house, a tree house, a cob house or a tiny cabin.  I could even camp in a nylon tent if I wanted to, but I won't want to because it is January right now and I think I would like to be warm.

Not knowing what some of those things are, I looked up the more mysterious of them on the internet.

A yurt is a round room inspired by wandering Mongolian yak or sheep herders.  What makes a room like this good for wandering livestock minders is that it can be completely dismantled, rolled up, carried to the next camping area and set up again.  They are warm and cosy in even the coldest of weather.

A cob house is build by the hands of many people out of clay mud and straw.  It is usually rounded and smooth edged with many whimsical personal touches put in by the group of people who built it.

All the bedrooms they offer are fully furnished, though rough in lifestyle.  There should be room in any of them for me to unpack and arrange my remaining belongings.  It feels liberating to me that I don't own very much anymore.

Today all of my belongings are travelling with me.  Everything fits in my luggage: the large suitcase which is down with the checked baggage, and my carry-on bag which is in the cabinet above my head, and in my purse which is on my lap underneath this notebook that I am presently writing in.

I love this notebook, by the way, I choose a new one every half year or so because it takes me about a half year to fill it.  I choose the next one right after I start using the newest one.  It's important to me that these little books I use feel right, smell right and look good.  I try to fill three pages each morning, though I cannot do it every day, and I also write in it when there is something in my mind that I need to work through.  I find the notebook to be a real help to me.

Looking out the window I noticed that the clouds had been obscured by total darkness, I drifted off to sleep.