Memoirs of an Old Indigo Child
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Some stories take us by surprise. We start, we read, we develop an idea in the early going, but, as we progress, more comes, and we find ourselves entranced by a life and lifestyle we've heard about, perhaps crossed, but not known intimately, and then we're truly hooked.
Thing is, most stories tend to be about the dramatic, the ultra unusual, those which were radical or deeply significant, but we forget the fabric of life, that which is truly important, is made up of people we know, people whose lives have not been ordinary, yet are not the lives of fiction either. Real, and thus fascinating. We come to know that realness-of-being, and precisely because it's such a real tale, we get to add to our database of human experience. A most valuable insight and knowledge, especially if such lifestyles do not overlap with our own.
Besides this insight into mindsets, attitudes, mores, philosophies, and perspectives not perhaps our own, this sharing acquaints us with a now near-mythical time. The author may not resemble a unicorn, but he's certainly a denizen from another era. Those who remember will feel the tang of nostalgia, or perhaps taste its Tang. If not familiar with that bygone day, a look from inside its detail is illuminating, not to mention fun. Sharing another's life-journey is always a privilege, and when shared with heart, a joy.