When we had to drag everything out of the crawl space above our garage, I found a 1970 photo that hadn't seen the light of day for quite a while.
I was struck by how I appeared so wise at 21, and, let's admit it, Christ like (leaving aside the minor detail that no one knows how Jesus looked).
Now, at 58, I don't know nothing about God and all that. I'm on a downward trajectory that has culminated in my Wu Project. But I'm confident there's further to fall.
This unposed photo was taken in my home town of Three Rivers, California. I'd returned there for a summer festival of something-or-other in an artistic neighbor's pasture. David Green, sculptor, artist, and spiritual seeker, snapped me in front of a tie-dyed banner that he'd made.
I'm holding some posters in the original. I cropped them out to place more focus on my serene yogic visage.
Back then I knew it all. Or at least a lot. That was before I became a spiritual doofus. I'd been studying hatha yoga and meditation pretty intensively for more than a year. I could chant mysterious mantras and stand on my head like you wouldn't believe.
I could give inspiring talks on Indian philosophy. I could say "Tat tvam asi" (That thou art) and actually believe that we all are God.
Now, I'm clueless. Yet this lack of clues about what It's All About doesn't dismay me. I've gotten comfortable with being spiritually lost.
Back in 1970 I thought I'd found That. Yet, looking back, what I'd found were ideas, concepts, imaginings, philosophies. I was good at talking the talk, but not walking the walk.
Not much may have changed in that regard. But at least now I'm more realistic about where I stand, even if I'm not moving in any discernible direction.
And heck, for all I know (which isn't much) where I am, and was, might be exactly where I'm meant to be. It just takes a lot of stepping to learn the value of staying still.