A newborn baby is like one who wakes up from a dream that’s forbidden to be remembered.
And all around the baby throughout infancy are many people screaming, like in some inferno.
The baby joins in, until somewhere in their teen years they begin to wonder what meaning the motions carry? Why the shouting? To what purpose? What has the screams achieved?
Over the years, the young child learns that growth is neither in height nor size, but in seeing through things to what lies beyond.
It’s as if the development of this foresight resurrects old ambitions and unique perspectives that have been pruned too many times by society that they have curled up in protest and refused to blossom.
The perfect, conducive environment for the growth of the new self is silence.
When one connects the dots from many unanswered questions in the past, the image that usually emerges is one’s new identity needed to be assumed to begin the quest for answers.
The image that emerges from connecting the dots can be very scary and no amount of descriptions can give listeners the full picture.
The best illustration is footprints one leaves in the sand in the direction of fulfilling one’s mission.
Those at the summit are not a few privileged ones destined to be there.
Everyone has what it takes to be there, but few are willing to risk reputation, risk every cent in their name, risk friendships that appear to have stood the test of time, risk stretching their spiritual beliefs beyond breaking points, risk their fertility and productive years, even risk losing things within themselves that have no name but can be felt when missing.
Diary of a Wanderer 
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