I could not stop smiling. I couldn’t believe this was real.

I’d spent the day planted in a tall grey wingback chair perched on the library balcony, pouring out my heart to Taylor. Meeting such a kindred spirit and feeling their passion resonate in myself had been a tall glass of water for my parched soul.

However the library magically connected me to Taylor, my gratitude could not be contained. If this library was indeed alive, I also hoped it had eyes to see the glowing smile on my face. I glanced up at the tongue-in-groove pine rafters and said a silent “thank you” to the spirit of the library for the gift of a new friend.

Was this real? Man.

Just as thrilling was that it turned out Taylor had been seeing my wildling in their dreams, too. We had spent the day talking about our inspirations, sharing dreams and ideas, and speculating on what it was our wildling seems to want from us.

After an afternoon coffee with Taylor, I headed back to my tent to take some time for myself and to get ready for dinner.

After that night’s BBQ, I retired to my tent to read and think. Later that evening, I heard the same cello I had heard playing the other night.

Instinctively, I walked toward the fire pit and took a seat. Others were doing the same.

A long-haired man with a guitar slung over his shoulder made his way toward the ring. Yep, it was Michael. He casually swung his guitar onto his lap and started to play with Rosin.


With the first strum of his guitar painting light against the palette of the cello’s dark resonance, I noticed a tiny spark in the middle of the fire pit. As more and more people were drawn toward the fire, the spark turned into flames, and the flames began to spread and grow higher.

But it was not fire—not like regular fire. And yet I recognized it. It was the same fire I had held in my hands; the same fire that had turned my small, lonely, safe world into a colorful, richly fascinating, and dangerous one.

As I listened, mesmerized by the song and the flames, Michael began to sing. One by one, the people joined in and the fire burned ever more brightly.

The last note of the song rang out in the air for a long moment. The assembled crowd didn’t feel so much like strangers anymore.

See the lyrics to Maybe There's a World if you didn't catch them listening to the audio.

Reflection: PeopleChapter 12: Envelopes