An excerpt from my upcoming book, Born to Wonder

I’ve taken some leaves of absence from the world.

In '93 I went without food for a week in a remote cabin and stared the entire time at a candle, willing my mind and attention to that singular task—it was a self-crafted spiritual retreat that I haven’t repeated; In '96 I camped in the woods for a week—and woke into a motionless world the first morning, where the reflexive 'me' was out of the picture and yet 'I' remained.  After a couple days of motionless soundlessness, I suspected that I'd broken my brain.  In '97 I removed myself from the world and lived in a remote West Virginia cabin and saw only the animals and my self from warm July ‘til the frost of October.

This story is about the life of a part-time hermit and full-time dreamer.  I think that there must be others out there.  This happened.  This is why I did it.  This is what I got out of it.  This is what I thought before, during and after—and this is what I think now.

My brain seems to have been formed in the shape of a question: Why?  This book is about my life eventually becoming dedicated to finding an answer.

People mention the meaning of life, briefly, on piers at sunset, in bars late at night or in someone’s back yard during unexpected bouts of nostalgia.  The sane guy is the one who says, ‘I’m here, so I might as well figure this life out.’ I never met him.  I thought I was unique in this place where people chase things that I knew they don't believe in.  I always believed that they were going through the motions, only.  I often wondered when I'd be let in on the big secret.  It just kept going, like a car with no driver.  Why?

I'm going to make a photocopy of myself in this book and draw a picture in the air with a pencil.

When I was 25, I made a commitment to find the meaning of my life and the meaning of everything.  I was accidentally successful.