This morning I woke at three dark-thirty to knock out the last 100 pages of Elise Close's The End of Anger: a New Generation's Take on Race and Rage. Six hours later I was done, and as my head buzzed with insights about where to take my life next, I wanted nothing more than to hunker down in my fireside chair ruminating on the possibilities.
But practical matters called. I had to get back to my own book, We Are the Love Gods, and flesh out creative channels for breaking through the intensely competitive wall of the publishing world. The time to get my new website up and running was here.
As I reviewed my immense photo library to figure out what images I should add to my front page slide show, the sheer volume and diversity of my life chronicled amazed me. Scrolling through thousands of images, I remembered that I live a colorful and eclectic life. The people I love, the places I go, the adventures I embrace -- all present a rich a pallet of motion and dimension that I sometimes lose when going about the everyday business of life.
The years that have passed astonished me. The lucid, emotionally resonant memories bely the decades. Everything I have done stays with me like a loyal friend, taunting me with simpler, raucous times and pushing me forward to find the new.
The album of my life buoys me. It beckons me with the thrill of the unknown. And it tells me to look not only at painful passages, but also at the promise of greatness that awaits me.