This post was posted on the DPR weblog by mistake. I just found it there today, and am posting it here now where it belongs.
Apartment is an interesting word. At once it describes the feeling of separateness that comes from having your own space, yet at the same time evokes a sense of compartmentalized living space, surrounded by other compartments, or apartments, as it were.
That's sort of how I feel right now. On the one hand, I am very much "apart" from the world, at least the world of humans with all its stress and insanity. On the other hand, I'm constantly reminded of how crowded the world is, by my many neighbours. I've talked a bit about the monkeys upstairs dropping things on me - feces, rocks, big spiky aloe-like plants, etc. and the spiders, scorpions and ants. Add to that the fruit bat that comes to visit my little cave when the door is open, perching on the ceiling and twisting this way and that like the miniature radar tower that he (or she) is; the rat-like object that darts back and forth across my porch and walking meditation path in the night; the little frogs that look like scorpions at first sight; and finally, this guy (or gal):
whose head I've seen in the cliff pools eating tadpoles, and tail I've seen diving into same pools, but finally I got a close look as he/she scuttled past the outhouse. I don't think I've ever felt so immersed in nature as this...