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I’m halfway through my 35th year of life. I have no career (not even a job), I don’t own a house, I have no children, and the most expensive thing I own is my bicycle. For the third time in the past eighteen months I’ve packed up everything I own (which is getting to be less and less) and hit the road. I’m in Tulsa with plans to head to Austin and Florida before riding my bicycle to North Carolina. I want to go to Northern California in May and maybe Costa Rica in between, but who knows if that will work out. I have a miniscule amount of money saved up, but luckily I’ve acquired friends all over the country and have learned to get by on less and less as the years go on. Some people have told me that I’m lost and maybe I am. At first this bothered me a little; not necessarily the feeling of being lost, but rather that other people could see it. In my 1994 Ford Econoline van on the way between Longmont and Tulsa I had the realization that although I may be lost I don’t care; there are much worse things to be. It’s true too that I don’t particularly know where I’m going but I don’t think that matters either. I know I’m moving forward. I’ve also been moving more and more inward which has allowed me to move further and further out of myself if that makes any sense. This is the only journey that matters to me right now and I won’t stop wandering, I will not quit seeking a way. The day I find myself satisfied, the day I determine that I have found THE way, that I have attained perfection, the day I am no longer considered lost is the day that my life will, for all intents and purposes, end.

 

Let me attempt to explain further the only way I know how; by telling my story. I grew up in New Jersey, things happened, I got in trouble, I did drugs, I was abused, I abused. I also read a lot of books, seemed to think about things my friends didn’t, and felt that I was somehow different than my surroundings; I had a vague yet persistent memory of being a sunflower. When I was 24 I met a girl who saw my skin under all the grime and convinced me that I could be more. We left New Jersey and after many miles ended up in Boulder, Colorado. A year later we got married, left Colorado, traveled for another eight months, and again landed in Boulder in the same exact apartment. The next three years were the best, most blissful years of my life as I attended Naropa University and made so many lifelong friends. For the first time in my life I was hanging with the smart and creative people, I was starting to believe that I was one of the smart creative people, I was doing things I loved, and I could clearly see my path. After graduation I started a business and stumbled through three of the worst years of my life; I saw my friends drift away, my marriage crumble, and my path become grown over with weeds and trash. I went to Portland thinking the solution lie in that land of cloudy weather and hipsters. Instead of finding my path again, I got drunk steadily for almost a year. I snapped out of it, traveled around some more and once again ended up in Boulder. I arrived confused, not knowing what I wanted, but determined to find it out. I met another girl who saw the fire in my eyes, who believed in me unconditionally, who redirected me. Things began to become clear once more; my path was in front of me again, and I unhesitatingly ran to it.

 

Throughout all of this I’ve sought a way; a way to live, a way to be. At Naropa I was naïve, running the business I was blinded by money, and later I was angry…so angry. Now I’m what? I’m less angry, I’m less convinced that there is one correct way to live, I’m slowly but surely becoming human. I’m trusting in the universe, learning to take life moment by moment, trying to love everyone, everything I come across. I don’t know what’s going to happen, I don’t know where I’ll end up, but I feel the most free, the happiest, and the least worried I’ve felt in a long time.

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