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If I get any more at loose ends I’ll be too free. I suppose I am a free spirit. Born into a cloud of hippies who had such idealisms. We had our place. We dreamed ourselves into existence. We shouted and blustered and cried and laughed and now they say we are baby boomers, a drain on the social security system perhaps. Not counting on that as money means diddley squat to me just like all social institutions mean the same.
 Now these days I dream myself out of existence. I pick up pen and write it down not knowing where it leads to. Feelings are transient, not precious. The call of home is precious but I’ve forgotten on purpose my home and if I remembered fully the funny thing is I might not even want to go home yet if I could do that.
  I could go I suppose. I do get one of those happy transient feelings to think of exiting my flesh and bone. My body has been as good to me as it could. Got me from point A to point B by placing one foot in front of another. I put food in, food out, made love in it, produced two fine, chubby little round-headed, mischievious kids in it. I put some drugs in it once, never realizing I could all by myself, duplicate the drugged feelings in my mind and soul and spirit. And it’s so much less expensive to it my way.
  Now here I am happy to stay, happy to leave, perfectly balanced on the precipice of life and death. It simply matters not. So I have to listen intently for direction. Direction from where? From home I suppose.
 The religious part of me I call DP is from home and Dead Preacher would say to say this only: “Where would you have my feet go? What would you have my lips speak? What would you have my hands to busy themselves with?” Ah, yes, I am free. And being free, one looks back to when they were not free, but bound to job, house, people, planet and fear.
 It was not so bad looking back, not at all. It was a highway to here, where freedom lent it’s vistas of never-ending splendor.
  Bless your station in life wheresoever you find yourself. It is temporary as the seasons. One day you will return and see if you did it right. You may not have done it right, but based on your knowledge at the current time, you did what you thought was right and couldn’t do it any other way. The best advice is throw out the guilt of it all. Guilt is a slayer of innocense and a cruel ruler. Something loves us fiercely and knows we but dream of our separation from love. This something hovers and swoops up the desperate in their final hour of doom, transporting them to that love we have never known here, but have forgotten. Then, that is true freedom, then we reclaim our innocense and we play once more in the kingdom we created. The intelligence of the heart journey is superceded by nothing else. Listen to your heart; you are here; the X on the map; what did you do to be so blessed to own your life? You must have been honored. Quiet your fears so you can hear love speak, then you will know, you are at home and there is none so beautiful as the enlightened ones who have reclaimed their memories.
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