Revisiting Brown Paths

In 2003, I wrote on the original back cover of Brown Paths, "Most times, I believe my life is just a series of deep conversations. In the intimate moments of shared truths, I find my purpose and my joy."

I used to tell everyone that my life was simply, "a series of deep conversations." Sadly, my life has declined from, "a series of deep conversations," to a concurrence of overheard insults. It is rather pathetic.

For the first two decades of my life, I travelled the country, and sometimes, the world engaging random people in intimate conversations. I heard from their mouths what it is to live their life, and from their stories, I learned what it is to be me.

Before I left New York, it seemed as if people were following me around and brushing just close enough to hurl insults in my direction. Within earshot on a subway, in a library, at work or on the street -- I had my first experience of what it feels like to be The Unwanted.

All over the city I found movie advertisements reading, "I hate Sarah Marshall" and "You Suck Sarah Marshall". Not knowing who this Sarah Marshall character was -- but I found a city, and perhaps a nation, speaking to me. Looking back, it is rather humorous the emotions I drew from things which were unrelated to me. In retrospect it is like the American Express commercials of inanimate objects giving signs to the viewer.

This lifetime, I have had the opportunity to meet the most beautiful, intelligent people in the world. Living in Detroit, New York and the Bay Area was more than I could have asked for on my own.

I miss the conversations. Really.

I wonder how so many people can hear my thoughts, and no one visit my blog posts. As irrelevant as it sounds, blogging is the closest thing I have left to a genuine conversation. I miss the conversations. I miss talking to one person, and knowing that only one person can hear me. I miss the intimate moments of life.

If I never saw the age of 26, I would be able to say that I have had a full life.

This is my Brown Path. I never expected it to lead me here, alone. But, this is my journey and it has been a beautiful walk even unto the underbrush. I wonder if I am supposed to be learning in the wilderness of my own despair.

Is this how I shall learn patience?

Is this how I shall learn fortitude?

Is this how I shall learn...

What can I learn from my own demise?

My life is a series of deep conversations. It was in 2003. It is in 2010.

When the conversations end... is there anything else?