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I am back from my journey. I have travelled thousands and thousands of miles over the last few months. I have seen many wonders and adventures.



I regret to inform that I have not found my center. A part of me thinks that it does not exist. I have spent days in a monestary meditating, looking inside myself, to find that there is still something missing. I have everything I need. I have friends, I have family. I have money. I wish I knew what it was that is missing, but, alas, I do not. I do know that without myself as a whole, I will never find peace.



I spent weeks by the ocean. I would watch the lighthouse circle day in and day out, I would stare at the waves, bringing the tide.



I was in a volcano. Insanity? No. Power. Fire, heat, wind, rain, combining in a great explosion of fury. Still nothing. As strange as it sounds, it bored me. It is not what I seek.



I will continue to search, but for now I am back home once more, pondering existence on one of my many walks in the dark, through the fields. Maybe, with time, what I seek will find me. Until then, I will wait, and search. It is out there. I will find it someday. And it is with hope that I will recognize it when I do.