i had friends who became eggy and managed to stay eggy. [laughter] i envied them. for me, the years following my 60th birthday seemed to be about teaching me something else that, yes, i could become like a child again and enjoy all the pleasures, the wonder a child experiences. but i would have to attempt to maintain this joy in the vicissitudes of the actual world as opposed to the meditative universe i had created with its calming, ever flowing fountain. my travels would take me to the celebrations in washington, d.c. where our new president, barack obama, would be inaugurated. they would carry me the morning after those festivities to faraway burma, myanmar, which would lead to much writing about aung san suu kyi. they would take me to thailand for a lovely trip up river where i could wave happily at the people who smiled back when smiled upon. they would take me to gaza, yes, and much writing about the palestine/israel impasse. to the west bank, to india, to all kinds of amazing places. like, for instance, petra in jordan. who knew? i would find myself raising