Whether this journey lasts another day or another 474 days, I need to remember that what I’m doing is making a difference. It may not always be the kind of visible, demonstrable difference my conscious mind would prefer. It may not show up in books sales or coaching clients. Yet the fact that it isn’t always visible or demonstrable simply forces me to trust that much more. And whether I’m on the road or off, trust is what I’m all about.

I am still The MoonQuest story, just as I was that March evening in Toronto 30 years ago…the story of a bard who follows his heart and lets the tales that move through him reveal the way forward as he journeys on a quest to return story, imagination and vision to the land.

It’s a scary, tightrope-walking way to write. It’s an ever scarier way to live. In both instances, however, at least in my experience to date, the results are always more wondrous, enriching and miraculous than any conscious mind could ever conjure up, because our conscious minds have access only to the visible portion of the iceberg.

My mother, who died thirty-nine years ago tomorrow, would never have understood this journey I’m on, nor much of the life I have lived since her passing. She would have worried incessantly for my well-being, as mothers do, yet she would never have tried to persuade me to change course.

I think parts of me can’t quite believe that I’m here, that I did it, that after all these years and despite the fact that I’m still floating, California is now my home state. Officially.

The harvest moon is seen as a time to reap the fruits of our past efforts...a time of abundance in all its forms…a time of endings and new beginnings. As such, this 25th anniversary of the harvest moon that first brought me here feels like the perfect moment to let go of the Sedona season that has enriched me in so many ways and to fully embrace a new one. Where am I going, when and why? As the storyteller I am, the only way I can answer those questions is with a story…

Not for the first time, I'm finding it hard to dig beneath the surface impossibility of my current situation to get to the truth, which is that the intuitive vision of my wisest self has never let me down, even when disaster felt imminent. Why am I telling you this now? Because I need to hear it.

When I woke on 11/11 wondering whether I had used up my lifetime quota of miracles, I recalled an 11/11 dream of a few years back that helped me when my faith was equally challenged. It helped again that day.

“‘Portal land,’ my friend Sander jokingly remarked back in late 2017 when I told him I was moving to Portland. As it turned out, it was no joke... You see, I’ll be leaving Portland on or around May 28. Likely for good.”

There’s a difference between “wanting to know,” which derives from a healthy spirit of inquiry, and “needing to know,” which too often generates more anxiety than it eases.