I did not spring forth

full-grown and fully-

 

blown into my present

self. It took time – then,

 

now and in the future –

handed to me by God-

 

lings. “I was born a baby,

what are these hundred

 

suits of clothes I’m

wearing?” asked Jim

 

Harrison. A friend sent

him books of Zen in

 

his darkness and

“They rattled me loose

 

from the oppressive, pole-

axed state of distraction

 

we count as worldly

success.”* I don’t

 

even fit in the

suits anymore. They

 

hang in the closet

and I write this at

 

two p.m. in my

fashionable

 

purple underwear,

which is my *The

 

Shape of the

Journey, pg. 361,

too.