Last year when I was 64 all I could think about was whether anyone would still need me or feed me. Too much acid and too many Beatles records made Jack a dull boy.

At midnight I entered my 66th year; technically my 65th birthday. Midnight was what the visiting doctor penciled in a week after my birth; by then, no body really knew what time it was.

It was 1941; it was World War II. That year the war took my father; not dead, but hypnotized into a life of serving the war effort. He never came home again. I felt it then, and today I understand it: the need for war. It birthed me, and in my father's absence, it caused me to seek after peace rather than emulating his choices.

War also took my mother, leaving her alone, a defenseless woman easily talked out of protecting her child from what would come. Interested parties forced her to give me up for adoption. I felt it, and I understand it; the need for shattered homes. And so I have always looked everywhere for my mother and father and family, in everyone I meet. Everywhere there is new birth, the creative spark unites us.

One of the places the orphanage placed me was with my father's brother, the one who came back home after his war duty, forever humbled. He and his wife remained together until death. I was happy to feel it, and yes, I understand it; the comfort and security that lead two people towards stability.

But let's face it; they were too busy entertaining each other to let me lead them onto a larger stage, into a greater family. Yes, I had to leave them, and so I also felt what it was like to leave the security of a home; to strike out towards the utter terror of the unknown. I understand it now; the need to welcome the larger universe.

Maybe this is getting boring for you? (Not for me!) And I've still got to blow out some candles and howl at the moon. It's the 23 rd of June, and because of its gravity the moon continues to hold the earth in its perpetual 23 degrees of wisdom, guaranteeing us tides and manic depressives the world over. (You know, that nasty bi-polar business that has nearly everybody by the balls or clit.) I feel it and I feel them; and because I left my medication 23 years ago, I understand the need for these shifting tides. They deepen and elevate me accordingly.

Have I forgotten anything? Oh yeah. "And if I ain't dead already, girl, you know the reason why!" Ha! It's the Beatles again; I felt them, and I understand them. But it was my own daughter who came to me and finally opened my eyes and ears, like some modern day Jesus, guiding me towards a newer awareness of our ancient truth.

And what is that truth? Surely you can feel it too! Of course you can understand it! Am I 65? Is my daughter only 20? Or do you perceive that we are all inhabitants of an ageless planet; believers in a conundrum which keeps all science and religion guessing as to how old it is without ever really knowing?

Grasp it: each of us is made from the very same dust, regardless of how old they claim the dust to be. And that really makes us all precisely the same age. All illusions aside, we differ only in consciousness of who we are. Hmm. what did the Beatles say about that one? Oh yeah, "You say it's your birthday? Well it's my birthday too. Yeah!"