You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can’t refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You’re invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
There have been many circles in my life, but I did not expect this particular boomer anthem to ever again become as personal as it was when I was 25. And yet, here I am again half a century later at 75. But “changed, changed utterly.”
And now I am here.
What, today is here? Where is Here in this Now?
Here is not a house but a warm and comfortable apartment that is not spacious but neither is it confining. It’s a far cry from the house in Paradise that is now just plowed under and terraformed. It’s not the small bungalow in Seattle with the playground across the street. The view from the apartment is some redwood branches that screen my small terrace from the neighbor’s terrace some five yards opposite. It is not at all the view from the split level house on the hill above Laguna Beach where I could glance out the wall of windows to the sea and Catalina Island some twenty miles out.
I did not intend to be here. Here was never part of the plan. At least not my plan.
Then again I am not at all sure there was a plan and, even if there had been a plan, I’m not at all sure I was following it. That’s likely the case since, looking back, all the important events in my life seemed to just happen, seemed as if I was walking backward in a dark tunnel that every so often had an opening that looked out on the world; on the world as that it is now — as it always seemed to be — just another day in Plato’s cave. Days we somehow just…
…. letting the daze go by.