Unimpressed by people and suspicious of human nature, I was reluctant to let go of the close
bonds I had formed with flora and fauna. Going to school and socializing with my new acquaintances, I felt as though
I were a sheep tiptoeing around in wolves' clothing -- the other children seemed to treat each other so cruelly, and I didn't
want to be associated with predators! Hence, I did everything I could to maintain and boost my connections with the
non-human side of life.
Because we had moved back to the heart of the city in Dayton, Ohio, I had to travel far outside
of my parentally allotted, 5-10-year-old's territorial limits to find the companionship of Nature that I was accustomed to.
Instead of walking straight to and from school or a friend's house, I headed down unexplored alleys and over mazes of fences
to become familiar with every yard, garden, and sprig of grass within a five-mile radius of my home. Sometimes I got
so involved in my own little world that I missed the first bell for class, so I played hooky all day long! I taught
myself to tell time by the sun's position, and I always made my way back to the school just in time to walk home
as the last bell sounded. No one in authority ever discovered my solitary jaunts through the neighborhood or asked why
I was absent, and I was never approached or questioned by strangers. Retracing my steps in the car years later as
an adult, I was amazed at how far my fat little legs (and later my bicycle) had carried me!
By the time I reached sixth grade we had moved to the suburbs of Washington Township, Ohio.
Since I rode the bus to school, my days of roaming freely to and from school were over. Both of my parents worked
as barbers, so most of the time I was restricted to our home to keep house and baby-sit my two younger sisters. When
I could finally get away, I would pedal my bike two and a half miles down the road to the nearest pristine forest, and make
up for lost time there. The dense, verdant growth and chuckling creek always restored the peace of mind and sense of
unity that had been depleted while I was functioning in the world of humans.
Always determined to enjoy and make the most out of any situation, I decided to bring Mother
Nature to myself, if I could not go to Her.
During the next few years of school my favorite subjects were biology and the life sciences.
I spent my spare time reading anything I could get my hands on pertaining to Nature. When Mom would finally take my
book from me and say, "Go play with your friends -- get some fresh air!," I would head for the nearest woods -- alone.
For some reason, none of the other girls wanted to leave behind their Barbie dolls to go catch crawdads in the creek!
During three summers my parents sent me camping with the Girl Scouts (I was a member)
and the Bluebirds (I never joined), for a two-week stretch apiece. In two of these years the school system also
sent me to a two-week camp at the Audubon Center, in recognition of my interest in life sciences and the good grades
I received in that subject. There I had access to microscopes, telescopes, and more reference books than anyone could
hope to read during such a short vacation.
The gift of these trips -- where I actually got to live in the wilderness -- was like being
finally allowed to go home. It was heavenly! I fell asleep each night to the sound of whippoorwills calling wistfully
to each other through the dark woods, and I never gave a thought to the fact that my parents didn't have the money to squander
on me like that. It didn't occur to me to wonder who was filling my responsible shoes at home while I was living
my dream-come-true. My time with Mother Nature would end all too soon, so I lived each second selfishly -- to its fullest
-- and never gave civilization another thought.
Growing up, I kept any pet my parents would allow. We had the usual family cat or dog,
goldfish won at the fair, and sometimes a parakeet. Personally, I owned turtles, chameleons bought at the circus, ghost
shrimp and fiddler crabs purchased for twenty-five cents apiece at the local aquarium shop, budgies, and up to thirty
hamsters at one time! Preferring the exotic, I even had a pet spider living loose among the seashells on my bedroom
windowsill. (After reading Charlotte's Web, who couldn't love a spider?)
We eventually moved to a 100-acre farm in Jamestown, Ohio. There my learning experience
with animals expanded as we kept sheep, chickens, ducks, geese, hogs, rabbits -- and even a few beehives. Again I had
spiders, housed in jars to maintain my mother's sanity! These pets were fed any flies unfortunate enough to fall asleep
on the baling twine that hung from the hand-hewn beams in the barn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As I gained age and education, my attitude toward plants and animals was only reinforced
and amended by the formal "discoveries" of scientists. What I learned was that people in general (and scientists in
particular) seemed to have no idea that everything in Nature could think and had emotions, like humans. Their vanity
denied the rest of creation a spiritual link with the Creator; only man was acknowledged as having a soul! Sensing that
the inhabitants of the wilderness were closer to God than humans (who were the only creatures forced from the Garden of Eden),
I couldn't understand this judgment and condemnation. To me, people were more thoughtless and compassionless, and acted
as if they had no soul to be accountable for. Nature's creatures did not wantonly rape, murder, abuse, nor destroy
that which was beautiful and good.
I had been taught that Adam and Eve had been denied the community of the Garden of Eden for
willfully disobeying and hiding from communication with the Creator. It seemed that ever since, much of mankind
had considered the world to be made in the image and likeness of the human ego -- self-centered, thoughtless, compassionless,
and without soul. Certainly Man was the worst predator ever set loose from the Garden! I concluded that as dangerous
creatures, homo sapiens was the species that needed to be observed, understood, communicated with, and tamed -- before
men would be qualified to lay down any "truths" about the rest of Life that surrounded them.
I went to college for awhile, then stopped attending, but for many years afterwards
I studied medicine, psychology, sociology, anthropology, history, theology, philosophy, archaeology, the humanities, and even
the paranormal, all on my own. I mentally consumed anything that contained any insight to the human perception and interpretation
of life. I fell in love with words and numbers, symbols, languages, and art -- themselves all modes of communication.
Strangely enough -- in one form or another -- all of these roads led to one place: God. Walking a mile in the moccasins
of Mankind took me on a trip beyond the stars!
I discovered that as a species, humanity evidentaly had one common origin -- their stories
of creation and survival across the face of our little planet were too strikingly similar. It was said that because
Man had closed his ears and insisted on imposing his will upon everything he came into contact with, he had suffered many
serious setbacks -- expulsion from Paradise, the Great Flood, the confusion of languages, etc. Those equivalent, collective
histories of humanity also all foretold a final, purging confrontation with the Creator, yet to occur. It seemed that
in spite of their hard hearts, essentially wayward nature, and the fact that their little "cosmic egg" had yet to be tempered
through trial by fire, most of mankind persisted in trying to get back to the Garden and God! Though their methods were
not always the best, they were trying. With good intent, some people were actually listening for that still,
small voice of acceptance -- instead of self-righteously demanding entrance.
Never proud to be human (and usually quite embarrassed), I was encouraged to find that there
might yet be hope for my species. Though the road back to the Garden was long, arduous, and at times dangerous, most
of mankind seemed determined to make the journey.
When I realized that the majority of people are lost creatures trying to get home (just like
myself), I willingly acknowledged my humanity. I got married, had a daughter, traveled back and forth across the country,
graduated from barber college, and then settled into a career. What puzzled me was that I still felt like a sheep,
instead of a wolf! My ability to listen to and communicate with Life had given me a unique world-view that seemed to
set me apart from the rest of the pack in mind, heart, and spirit. Luckily, having my "ears on" also provided
me the best camouflage that a sneaky sheep could ever ask for!
