LOOSE ENDS
I've always been a thinker of this and that. When I started leaving my body, I had even more to ponder. Over the years, I've given the question of why I travel some considerable attention. I've always wondered why I started young and it never left me. Now, my eventual answer circles back to my questions. I travel because I've always been a thinker. My thoughts run deep and focused (even my dumb ones). At the age of eight, my thinking collided with my strong desire and I jumped out-of-body. I've never been the same since.
I lead a normal life, but my life is not normal. During the hours unoccupied by routine and necessity, traveling is my ever present obsession. If I don't travel, I think about traveling. It's not the fixation of an unhappy man hoping for more than life offers. I'm happy with my life and the person that I am. It is simply a desire to understand and experience.
Writing this book, like my search for answers, was a solitary task. I have sat alone in my not-so-comfortable chair and stared at the screen. I've typed and then retyped and then retyped the retype. Through it all, I've thought about you. I'd like to think that my words will comfort the next accidental expert.
I won't feel so isolated the next time I write. I'm hopeful that your letters and your thoughts will be with me. And if one day we happen to meet, whether physically or nonphysically, you still owe me a doughnut.