Zona

I look at this picture of me taken in early 1959 and I am amazed that I still feel that way. Whatever got me to this place and time has served it's purpose and I'm ready to move on. I'm an old soul, a wanderer, a teacher. Too many people around me are mere annoyances. I do best on my own and in fleeting relationships where attachment is not an issue. I move through a multitude of strangers pausing only long enough to share energy with somebody who interests me. Somebody who is moving with the same motivation as me. That being a slight pause before resuming the "getting on with it" of an adventure that can have no end, no definition, no real purpose.

That's the result of a meme that doesn't exist. What planet am I, which dead rock star, which character from Lord of the Rings. All of those random results that we claim to identify with like the hopeless watching the con game of tarot cards and crystal balls and television evangelists.