The apocryphal story of my toddler years is that I didn’t speak until I was three years old. My lower middleclass parents spent hard earned money taking me to a specialist who declared that there was nothing physiologically wrong with me and that patience was all that was required. There was some suggestion that my very talkative older brother just dominated the conversation.
The second part of the story declares that my first word was, “Why?” My wife upon hearing this story suggested that my parents would have been wise to have left me on the steps of the nearest monastery and walk away. Apparently, I always spoke with proper grammar and only when it was appropriate for a child to be speaking. My poor parents!
Clearly, I was seeking purpose from the early part of my life and it has continued for seventy years. The purpose of existence, of living, of being with other people, of being just one of many species on a planet, of being one planet amongst a universe of planets, was the task of each of us to determine for ourselves. What was I to make of that? How did I fit in? And what if I didn’t belong?
A need for purpose plagues us from our earliest years until our final demise. And perhaps at the ends of this spectrum the sense of having no purpose is the greatest. Toddlers and grandparents make good companions not only because we amble at the same speed and with the same lack of assurance, but because we aren’t really sure why we are here and what we are to do with the time allotted to us. How am I to be useful to those around me?
That was why I sold my house and most of my possessions. I wanted to free myself from the chains that kept me tied to my past and even to my present. Everyday habits were preventing me from taking the next step in my personal development. I sensed that the Brechtian “ferfremdung” (strangeness) was what was necessary. I needed to locate a new world that had use for an old man who wasn’t quite ready to die yet or be done with developing. Where would I find a place that could value what I had learned and what I had experienced?
I had already determined that my daily tasks included nurturing my own happiness and those with whom I came in contact. Even the checkout person at the grocery store received my ready smile and direct eye contact during the greeting. I understood the doldrums of monotony in their work and always endeavored to bring a bright spot into their day. But there wasn’t enough contact for these experiences to fulfill my need for a larger purpose.
It was only by traveling and being footloose that I was able to encounter those who needed me, those who valued my unique qualities. In my role as the itinerant monk, I was able to encounter many who were seeking answers to similar questions. The stories that follow detail the experiences that continued to change me and influence who I am to be today. I was not always as you see me now and tomorrow, I may not be as you see me today. All atoms are constantly in motion and yet we continue to accept the illusion of solidity and consistency. Perhaps my constant travel kept me closer in harmony with the electrons of energy that gave me strength and purpose, for now.