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I’m glad to hear that your meditation practice gives you the means to define your sense of purpose in life. That is an enviable state of affairs. My own charter would be less ambiguous and my agenda more coherent had I certainty regarding the disposition of such matters. 

It seems to me my sand has nearly run out; the frontier is closed and I don't do reservations. You'll never know whatever became of me. You'll think about it once or twice, then forget I ever existed. Till one day you'll come across something that brings me to mind and you'll hurt to imagine lost might-have-beens. 

Like 24 karat gold, my kind of purity makes me too soft to be of much use in any practical sense. That's my problem. As a result, I have cultivated an outer shell that is hard and crusty. I think it might crack soon. I don't want anyone to be around when it does. The mystery of existence will continue to puzzle me, but I’ll not accept institutional dogma as answer to the question of why I’m here. A little dogma creates a big stink. 

As a result, I make it a point to always go out of my way to avoid stepping in it whenever I choose to take a stroll. There is no truth, but that which one chooses to believe. Any other notion is childish speculation. Oh, and I am sorry about the time I told you have a fat ass. I didn’t really mean it the way it came out. What I meant to say is –  you have a fat ego. But that didn’t sound angry enough. And I was very angry.

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