Prologue

Life is movement and change.
Search and discovery.

We are always traveling.
Dimly aware of our direction and goals.

Where are we really going?
Are we searching for the perfect world, somewhere outside of us?

Or are we going home?
Not to a childhood home, but a home that lives and grows deep within us.
A home distant from our everyday lives, yet more familiar and satisfying than any home we can remember.

There are worlds within, waiting for us.

If we listen in the stillness.
We see how to begin the journey.

Mix a brief moment with an ache to discover.
And stir with imagination.

But the journey is often too brief.
We touch other worlds every day.
And then forget them, to return to our everyday lives.

We laugh at imagination.
And dismiss our inner worlds.

Imagination can strike the hard ground of our everyday lives, and raise sparks of daydreams.
Or take us on a ship of fire to other worlds.

Which is more real?
The life we know?
Or the other worlds we can touch?

Do we create the worlds of possibility?
Or do we discover a distant reality?

Some of us are forever changed by the meaning that we find there.
And there are legends of travelers who never return.

I met such a traveler, in a bright dream, and he told me his story.
Once, he lived among us.
But he left himself and our world behind, to explore.
He found another life, and another home.

This is how he began, with an intention and focus for his journey:
The perfect place for me, in time and space and possibility, to learn what I need to learn, to be the person that I must be, and to listen and speak to the deep parts of myself is…