I was born an optimist.
Despite the chaos of alcoholism, I survived childhood.
At the age of twelve I wrote an emotional essay on the insanity of war
that raised many eyebrows, but echoed away into silence,
With sixteen I enthusiastically came across the theories of meditation
and the age of enlightenment, only to be mislead by
But my desire was pure, and the light that I came to believe might just be imagined,
turned out to be real and all-pervading.
Despite the fruitless jungle of youth, with its years of aimless wanderings under the influence of narcotics, I stumbled out into adulthood, and, step by step,
made my way up the mountain
— thanks to our fourth, natural (and now thriving) state:
Here, on the brink of universal change, when darkness takes its last stand, I am firmly rooted in the belief that each of us carries the seed of the highest ideal in us, about to sprout, or already stretching out its magnificent boughs.
We need to nurture that.
We are not these shells.
I have felt, again and again, the immensity of who we are.
The time has come to shine.