Little bells: an introduction

Several years ago (seven to be exact), I found myself in the California coastal region of Big Sur. For a few glorious days I existed on these cliffs cradled between the Santa Lucia mountains and the pacific ocean. I say that I "found myself" as if I had just wandered into California, so many miles from home. This trip however, was well planned. So I say I "found myself," when what I mean to say is: I found a woman. Her campsite was a few feet from our campsite. I should mention here that I wasn't alone on this trip up the coast. I noticed first that she was alone, that she had a small dog and what appeared to be a journal she had set aside to write in later. As I walked on the path between the campsites and the cliffs of the beach, I watched her briefly as she sat in her open tent hanging a string of little bells on one of the interior sides of her four nylon walls. The image of this woman with her bells and journal, camping alone has always stayed in my mind. The minute I saw her, I thought to myself "I want to be like her someday" At the time I don't think I fully understood my intrigue with this woman. I thought only of the fact that she was traveling alone and how I found that appealing as a source of self reliance. Though now, after so many years I'm beginning to understand why I was so intrigued. I saw in her, my desire to connect with myself and my surroundings. To commune, if you will, with the universe in its entirity. To give something to myself more precious than self reliance. A quiet mind, inner sight and outwardly vision, compassion and an open heart able to receive and give. Love. I know I could be wrong in my assumptions of this woman, a fellow traveler. But whether or not she is who I assume her to be doesn't matter. Because in finding her, I found myself...there on the California coast where the Santa Lucia mountains mirrored the sunset in golden and rose colored tones, and the grass was so soft under the thin layer of tent fabric that I've yet to find a more comfortable bed where I could rest and dream. I have my own string of bells now. They hang in my doorway and when I hear their little ringing chorus like laughter I'm reminded of the woman I hope to always recognize as me.