I sometimes feel like an outsider in this world, a bystander or witness to people and place, time and space. A couple Saturdays past, I stood on the raised edge of a wooden dock and peered into the cloudy water of Lake Washington. I saw a shadow of myself reflected in the water, slender and shapely and without arms. Rays of light poured out from my body in all directions, solid with shimmering glints in the spaces between. I slowly lifted my arms as if a bird, and I could see my inner spirit—an elfin glow, a bird with wings, a spritely woman. I tried to peer beneath the cloudy surface but the water kept its secrets well hidden. In the distance, snow-capped mountains touched the sky from every direction. I looked from the mountains to the water, gripped the warm wooden beam with my toes, crouched slowly down, land eapt into the air. For a moment, I was free.