Christopher was once an earnest seeker, a devout Catholic recovered by EST, Walsh, Abraham et al, but his less-traveled road might have some amusing anecdotes worth musing.
Settling by whim in Santa Fe after an adventurous but accidental past, he realized he had never had a goal or ambition, profession or even a proper job, but had a bunch of experiences and choices thrust upon him. Moreover, he never wanted to be anything descriptive and every time he seemed about to acquire a label, he would mysteriously veer away. He agreed to deliver a yacht across the Atlantic, but didn’t want to be a yacht deliverer. He wrote 7 published novels and sold 8 songs, but didn’t want to be a novelist or songwriter. At one point he did want an amphibious airplane, which fate granted him but took it away from him before he could kill himself. He knew never to buy a yacht, but did so anyway and thought to sail around the world but only got 300 miles. He never thought to marry or have children, but somehow did. He feels he has finally reached his destination, so is there such a thing as destiny? And if you aren’t anything, what, if anything, defines who you are?
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