Today I am 64 years old. When I was young, I would look at my mom to get the feel of what it was like to be her age. She was 33 years my elder, and to me, she seemed like an old person. How would it feel to have restricted vision or impaired hearing? The quality I was really curious about, was the way it feels to be you, when you are older. I questioned mom and her answer was astounding, "It never feels different; my body ages, but I am always the same. Feeling like "me" is the same now as it was when I was your age."  I loved her answer. It meant I would never change; something in my essential self, would always be the same. Now, after 50 years, I know her truth, because the "me" of 14, is the same "me" of 64.

As a young woman, I quested to find the truth. I read books, meditated, attended workshops, fasted, sat in pyramids, and in teepees. I explored the edges of consciousness only to return back to that initial realization of the truth of "me". The "me" mom spoke about, and the "me" that I knew myself to be, was the alpha and omega of my search. As a child, I saw "me," but thinking that seeing "me" was so ordinary and inconsequential, I moved my search beyond and rambled in the exotic fields of mind's play. I searched and researched for a realization I already had. I don't regret the search; it was fun, but at 64, looking back, it is amusing. Can you imagine being in at O'Hare airport and hiring a jet, not any jet, but the best equipped jet ever, along with two pilots and flight attendants, to take me to Chicago? My family and friends come along and we board the plane; the flight attendant gives her spiel, the captain turns on the engines and we take off. We fly for hours. We go through turbulence and stillness. My friends get upset and calm down. I react; learn to be cool, become nonreactive and discover how to settle down. The cycle repeats itself. We stop to refuel and head out. We fly for what seems a lifetime. The sun shines, the skies roar, the sun rises, and the sun sets - finally we land - at O'Hare. When I get off the plane, I realize I hired a jet to take me to where I already was. I don't get upset and think about all the time and money I've wasted. I'm just happy. It's not a problem; it's a paradox because it took the journey, with its pitfalls, calm moments, and interactions, to get me to the place where I could be present, know who I am, and fully live.

So here I am at 64, back at O'Hare. I have departed and arrived and I'm grateful for all of it. I probably will go on another Mind Trip, and I don't care. I have my Frequent Failure's Rewards Card and failing isn't a problem; it's just an experience. Winning isn't a reward or a great accomplishment either; it's just another experience.

Thank you to my readers for being in my life and always being at the airport to pick me up. I count on you to be there for me, whether you are there in person or in consciousness. My oldest sister Jo used to say this to my sister Lois and me, "I am so glad you wuz born." (Yes, we do use improper English.) Now my sister Lois and I pass that phrase back and forth, and today, on my birthday, I extend that blessing to you: "I am so glad you wuz born." Happy Birthday, whenever it is. How about now? New birth can be a moment to moment experience, when we come freshly into the moment and drop the past. Not to worry if you stray; can't stay in the present, and have to take a mind trip. Just fly the friendly skies of united (couldn't resist) because there's no prescription for life. Do it your way, and remember, the possibilities are endless. And remember the eight word miracle mantra, "Everything can be easy or at least easier."