Have I heard voices? No.
Have I seen things that aren’t there? No.
But I’ve seen something that some people would say isn’t really there. He’s a miniature person that lives in a wooded hole behind my house. Does that count?
Yes? Okay…
I haven’t told anyone else about this. Because people are going to ask questions and they won’t believe me. And that is going to be frustrating, them doubting me. Because I know that he is real. He has actually been the most important person in my life for the past few months. He understands things that other people don’t and never lies to me.
The first time I met him was a foggy, soggy morning, immediately following a heavy rain the afternoon and night prior. It was springtime and I was taking a walk in the woods as I’ve come to do several times a day. My focus was not on finding anything, in particular, but in escaping into the quiet for a few minutes.
Thirty acres of woods sit immediately behind my home. The woods have barely been touched by humans over the last 50 years, and there exists trees of multiple different types, ages, stages of decay and maturity. Maple, holly, oak, pine, sweet gum densely pack the wood. Many dead trees reside here, now lying across the ground and providing root space and food for new trees and vegetation. Peppered throughout are holes are in the ground big enough to accommodate a man’s leg. Root balls once resided here and have since rotted away.
In addition to the trees, the woods are adorned with thick round leaf greenbriar. The briars are so dense that, in the spring and summer, it is difficult to walk in the woods. I’ve cut trails in the back over the last couple of years, though, which allows much easier access. Dried sweet gum seed pods and dried leaves lie in abundance on the ground, forming the woods’ floor.
His home exists inside of a now empty root hole from a maple tree fallen several years ago. The hole is only about 2 feet across. There is a thick root from an adjacent tree that wraps around the top of the hole, giving it stability from caving in from the sides. The hole goes down about a foot before breaking off into 4 smaller holes which dive deeper still. These holes are remnants of the initial root branches and serve has different wings of his shelter.
It was during spring that I first met him. The tiny man. The briars were low and it was easy to trek into the far eastern part of the wood. That’s where he lives. I was sitting on a large fallen sweet-gum, moss overlying bark on the top half, bark stripped away on the half closer to the ground. From here, I stared down into a particularly deep root hole. From deep in the hole I noticed a flickering, then clearly a small light, then an arm and shoulder. A little man, no bigger than my index finger, was looking up at me.
This little man, were he to be human size, is probably in his mid-40s. He wore denim pants and a flannel shirt. His face was soft and relaxed, like he had seen me before. I felt scared. How could I be seeing such a miniature person, I must be going crazy! But he was as clear to me as the trees and moss all around that I know by faith and science to be real. And I relaxed, I think partly due to his calmness.
This began a ritual whereupon I would meet this man every morning before the sun rose. And I would talk to him of my concerns, small and large. And he would listen wisely, occasionally giving advice. I felt comfortable with him.
The man has been my sounding board for a lot of different ideas and concerns that I’ve had. He listens and only interjects or says something if he truly feels it is of great important. And I appreciate that, given how people can be with their yammering. I look forward to our talks more than anything else. When we are talking I hear truth and he understands me.
He tells me to quiet my mind and take deep breathes in and out. He tells me that of course I am not in control of life’s events. Be happy and content with simply experiencing life. I don’t think he understands my little worldly worries about paying bills and the state of international affairs. He doesn’t understand because he doesn’t exist in that world. But he sympathizes greatly with me and can feel my pain. He knows that life is pain.
I’ve learned from him not to worry about what I think others are thinking. These thoughts are not reality. I can free myself by letting go of false expectations that I carry. That I didn’t even know I was carrying. I am no more or less significant than any other living thing. That will become apparent before this part of our journey ends and the next begins. Time, in its constant march forward, is not real. There is only the infinite moment.
You carry these false beliefs, too, you just probably don’t know it. You would enjoy meeting him.
So, no. I haven’t heard voices but I have met this man. You can understand, I‘m sure, why I haven’t told a lot of people about him. If people find out about him, they may try to find him and prevent him from telling his truth. You know that people hate the truth.
Do you have anymore questions?
The Ruse 