I couldn’t sleep.

I found an old box of journals I had written in the 1970’s and 1980’s, chronicling my life (as it were), my angst, and my overall consciousness.

It’s a good place to hang out, in your own psyche, forty years or so ago, give or take five or ten…when you can’t sleep…

Here’s the straight skinny.

I have more money than that guy, the one who wrote all that stuff, and I have more degrees, more accomplishments, more sophistication. I am far more well-travelled, and can speak from a far wider experiences base than he ever could have—I mean, he was a kid.

And…I am aware that he could dive deeper. He had less to lose. He had nothing BUT his Consciousness. He wasn’t President of a damn thing. He was moving on the planet in a more attuned way (though I pride myself so much on doing that now, at my age, through India and across Western Europe, with my years of spiritual practice…)

He did not have the distractions, his tongue upon the frozen fence, not knowing that was a bad idea, wandering through the Englischer Garten in Munich, riding the Marrakech Express, hitchhiking across the French and Spanish border, doing laundry in Athens, Ohio, camping out cold and un-prepared in Big Sur, and smoking cigarettes in coffee houses all over the world, with no income, or promise of income to help him feel safer about lighting up…

It’s now 2:33 AM. I do not particularly feel closer to sleep, but I do not care as much as I did before I looked through these journals.

It is so different, being so much closer to dying than to being born.

Man, I like that guy. He was a good kid. He served me well.

But/And—and I am not being glib or cute—I have to find that guy, in me, at closing-in-on-sixty-five, if I am going to muck around in the greater depths, those realms from which my/your title, and pay stub, and Google Presence can distract and protect you. Me.

Thanks, kid. I will probably sleep soon, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Keep smoking cigs in France, and let me know what is up in 1974, and 1981, and, well, wherever you find yourself…

President Nolan

Errrr…..Jim

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