WHERE HIDES THE SPIRITUAL AMIDST THE CRAZINESS OF THIS GREAT ADVENTURE?

I am bothered when I start living too much in the material world. The "small voice" within has been calling to me for the last few days to come back to my center—to stop flying. "Get Real, asshole!"

Sending the wrong email to Catherine St. Louis at the New York Times, should’ve been a clue that I was getting off track. It helped when I shared at a 12 Step meeting the other day—about right-sizing myself. But, I’m still feeling not enough of "who I am" and too much of "what I dream of being."

My wife sees this unbalanced side of me. She recognizes it instantly and points it out. She usually says that it overwhelms her and doesn’t give her enough room for herself—that Tony takes up too much space in our family.

I don’t argue with that!

This sort of inner reflection makes me want to run away—give up my possessions—and become a simple monk perhaps. Like Peter Hill does in "Beneath Buddha’s Eyes." That was always the most important part of the story for me; Peter’s surrender in the Buddhist temple. I could feel the cold marble floor he was sitting on, could smell the phosphorous of the match as it burst into flame when he was about to burn the contents of his wallet. I can visualize this as a movie!

But for me, in my real life right at the moment, I am feeling a similar kind of need to surrender. I had a waking dream a few weeks ago—before I even went to Iraq—where I smelled the soft salt breeze of Hawaii. I had asked myself the question, "now that I’m being a writer, since I can live anywhere I want, where would I want to live?" Hawaii is the place that came to mind. I’ve never been there, not in this lifetime anyway, but I had the very real sensation of the feeling of the place, the smell of the flowers and all that. I’m not sure Hawaii is the direction I’ll go—it’s just that contained in the thought of the place is maybe a hint of the answer of what I need to do.

I think that what my trip to Iraq is trying to teach me—for the ten-thousandth time in this life—is to look beneath the surface of all the craziness in this world, for that’s where (not hidden too deeply at all) all the answers lie. It is as if my trip to Iraq was a movie—a powerful one at that. But now the movie has ended, the lights have come up, and I’m stuck in my seat wondering, "what’s next?"