I want her to tell me everything, every step. I want to follow, to fall into the rhythms laid out for me, to feel a strong hand against my shoulder blade, guiding my feet. I want my body to becoem a leaf on the wind, ready to rise or fall, move left or right, close or far at the first bit of whimsy, at the lightest suggestion, the barest breath. I ready myself for this. I lighten. I open. Allow the wind inside. Allow my judgments, my petty sense of right and wrong to escape. I am an open thing, a light creature. I am waiting for the wind to take me.

Yet the words do not come. I receive no direction from the source upon whom I have decided to depend. To trust. After giving expert council, after encouraging me to trust her judgment, after I lighten and let go of all of my preconceptions so that I am lying here naked in waiting, she quietly slips out the backdoor, over the gate and away. I believe that she'll return, but no time soon. And what do I do, naked here, in the meantime? Just wait? For days and days just wait. I can't. I mustn't. I'll freeze todeath. I must move. Or wrap myself up tighter than before. I mustn't depend on her direction. She will leave me when she thinks I have got the hang of a thing. Leave me to my own devices, to practice what I have learned, to play, to invent, to test myself, to learn and grow and expand. She will not hold my hand through every step. She will cast me out of the nest, wings sticky, gumming together or not.

What do I do? I who have lightened myself so? Who have opened myself up in such a way. I suppose I must look for direction elsewhere. On the light, on the wind. Follow the blades of grass, which way do they run? Listen to the train whistles and the barking of dogs and the squeaking of busses. Follow the flight of airplanes and birds. What do the hot air balloons watch? What do the blimps record? The sidewalk has seen interesting scenes in the lives of human beings. Do a survey o fthe cement. Call your name and chase the echo. It's an idea leading you. It's a whisper holding your hand. Experiment. Llana is having a baby. Something lilke your niece or nephew. What is the child's name? Ask it. Begin a dialogue with the creature even know. Ask it questions. Tell it stories. Learn what colors it sees, what it hungers for.

So, you see, Ariana, how much direction there is in the world, if you only keep your eyes and ears and heart open?