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  • I have often – too often -- felt like a tourist in my own life, pausing long enough to take a snapshot or buy a tacky souvenir, but not to see or do or learn anything memorable or enduring. I dressed the part, too. In my youth, my passport to the unexamined life bore many pale stamps.

    I have been battling this tendency as I’ve gotten older, and I'm declaring 2014 as the year of quiet revolution: in consciousness, creation and manifestation. Like a true traveler, I aim to give as much of myself as I take from others.

    A woman once screamed at me: “Stop looking into my soul!” She reached across the table, picked up a salt shaker and hefted it in her hands, weighing whether to throw it at me. I hadn’t looked into her soul. I made her do it to herself. But that was then. Now I’ve pledged to shapeshift from observer to participant.

    Outside my window right now there’s an imaginary blanket of snow, a pristine new year unsullied by disagreements, mistakes or disappointments, throbbing with promise and possibility, and I’m in here writing stories. Enough, people. I’m tired of sitting here with a lump in my throat the size of life itself. What are we waiting around for? Let’s make some tracks already.

    A very happy new year to you all.
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