Occasionally in a man's travels he comes upon a circumstance or subject that causes him to go, hmmmm. He sees things in a different manner and experiences things in a different way. The occasional public worker that retires and moves to a remote island floating around the equator can experience the paings and yearnings of the spiritual journey. I'm thinking of Ernest Hemingway, who lived off the Cuban shores writing great works and experiencing the world from a certain perspective. He had all sorts of mindfulness and sometimes mindlessness to share with the masses, which he wrote for all of us to read. "Old Man and the Sea," travel with me as I paddle my ancient canoe across the briny blue. Now I know he didn't write this quite the way your reading it, but I'm taking an artists privilege and re-writing to fit my own needs. This is part of the travel. And if we travel our travel in a certain way we may come to that dingy point where our realities fade. This is usually caused by to much solitude. As Ernest lived, primarily alone with his thoughts and experiences he became disentangled with the self and began to go to pieces. Going to pieces is the after effect of to much time alone and to much time to think. I think therefore I am, and I am therefore I think, therefore I think I am... You see, going to pieces. So, if your ever of the urge to travel south and ponder the existence of the universe on an island alone with your own thoughts and experiences just remember Ernest Hemingway, what ever happened to him?