I know a man. He lives in the forest. How he got there, or how long he’s lived there, no one knows. He doesn’t speak. He’s very different from me, but at the same time, it feels like he’s a part of me. He’s wild, a little crazy, and can be inappropriate, most of the time. I call him Steven.

A few years ago, I decided to invite him to the city. He’s curious, so jumped right in. After all, he’s never left the forest.

The first time he sees himself in the city, I remember how big his eyes got. He was in a shock, I think in a good way. He sees all this light, hears all this noise, finds himself with all these people. It’s very different from the forest. I invite him into my house and give him a room. I tell him that if he stays long enough with me, I’ll teach him how to live in the city. He agrees. It’s Steven. He always goes along with whatever.

So, I begin to teach teach him. I teach him how to talk, how to eat, how to be proper. Everything I’ve learned from my family, teachers, and friends - I teach him it all. I want him to get along with my friends. I help him find a job. I help him chop off his hair and I help him buy clothes. Very quickly, Steven begins to fit in. He looks and acts like me. I’m super proud.

Soon though, something starts to happen. The Steven I first met in there no longer. He’s replaced by a city man, who looks and seems miserable. The same head that he shaved a few months ago, he now starts to cut for no apparent reason. He comes home from work, upset and angry. He starts throwing furnitures around the room. At first, I don’t know what’s happening. Over time, I begin to realize that in the process of converting, I’ve lost my friend. And then, Steven, with his newfound ability to speak, shares with me that he used to live in the city long ago. And he left because it made him just as miserable as he’s now.

Last week, I decided to take Steven back to the forest. As soon as he gets there, I start seeing my old friend once again.

And something happens in me. The breeze of the forest, the natural colors of the trees and sky, the quiet…it does something for me that nothing else ever did. Abundant peace, for the first time in my life. I realize then that it was Steven who was teaching me, not I him.

Next month, I’ll move to the forest. Pretty soon after, I imagine that I’ll forget to speak, to write, and even my name. Maybe at some point even later on, someone will meet me, like how I met Steven. They won’t know what to call me. They can call me Steven.