As I described in my post Thoughts on Falsehood, I spent a great deal of my teen years and early adulthood dreaming about glorious, far-off destinations involving art, culture, and great cities. Coupled with various outings with friends that gave me a natural kind of "high", I think it safe to describe those as my earliest quasi-spiritual experiences, following the monumental wonders of childhood.

That feeling didn`t last long. As I got older, something began to change. I began to change. But I still kept looking in the same places, thinking I would find it again.

Similarly, my early travels to Europe had felt somewhat mystical. I walked around as if in a dream. But the last time I visited Europe, I was no longer the same person - I had more knowledge and more baggage. Throughout my years in New York, following the pace of The Next Big Thing, I felt like a cocaine addict waiting for his next fix. But nothing provided ongoing contentment.

I am a long way from where I was a few years ago. Not to say that I have achieved a constant Zen-like peace of mind, but the road that I have chosen is clearer, and I am no longer lost. I`m also a stay-at-home mom. When my baby looks up at me and smiles, I experience a joy that takes me back to the way I felt as a teenager, when emotions were fresh and undiluted. It is hard to put into words, but this feeling is different, and significant, and ever-lasting. I look at my baby and all those castles I built in the sky are suddenly real again, and close to earth. I know that I am where I am meant to be.