I came to the country nineteen years ago, the year of the Millenial Celebration, and bought a small cabin on a mountaintop where I lived for a year with two Yellow Labradors named Julius and Stanley and the journals of Thomas Merton.

The country was strange to me, a life-long smart ass city boy. My first journal was spiritual; I read and walked and thought all day, all through a hard and lonely winter. I looked everywhere for love.

I didn’t grasp the significance of it at the time, but I had left the ordinary world behind, including my family, I had set out on the Hero Journey to find myself. I couldn’t face the awful truth: there was no going back.

Several years later, I bought a 90-acre farm in a grand old civil war farmhouse in Hebron, N.Y., and I had evolved. I was called to the farm, to nature and a life with animals.

I soon had 36 sheep, several dogs, two barn cats, a bunch of chickens, 36 sheep, and two donkeys. I even had two giant Swiss Steers. I was writing a book a year. Five of them were bestsellers.

I had left my ordinary world behind and answered the call to adventure.

There were years of tests, allies, enemies, challenges that test me in a variety of ways. Obstacles are thrown across my path; the hero must overcome each challenge he is presented with on the journey towards his ultimate goal.

And then, writes Joseph Campbell, the Ordeal:

“The Supreme Ordeal may be a dangerous physical test or a deep inner crisis that the Hero must face to survive… Whether it be facing his greatest fear or most deadly foe, the Hero must draw upon all of his skills and his experiences gathered upon the path to the inmost cave to overcome his most difficult challenge.”

I faced the most awful inner crisis of my life. I survived, I drew upon all my skills and experience to overcome this challenge.

I had no idea how beautiful the journey would be or how frightening and painful. Here I am, nearly two decades later, alive and writing and living, and I still am not sure what the ultimate goal is unless it is the last chapter,  death itself.

I have survived, I did fall into darkness, I did climb out, I have found love, I have found meaning, I believe I am humbler and more honest than before. And stronger. I understand the path has no end; there is no finish line, no time when I can say I’m done, I finished the journey. But there is a time when it will end.

The journey is all about adventure and truth; it is not about happiness or victory.

It doesn’t work like that. The journey is never really over; there is always much to see, learn, feel, and change. But there can be resolution, even reward.

My purpose in life is not to be happy. My mission in life is to be me.

For years, people have written to tell me I have a Perfect Life, and I shiver whenever I see or hear this — those poor lost souls.

There is no Perfect Life for a human being, and if there were, I wouldn’t want one, I can’t think of anything more barren or empty than coveting someone else’s life, or living a life without pain and strife.

I don’t covet your life, and believe me; you don’t want mine.

I could hide all I wanted, and flee all I wished. But the problem was that I always came along, even to the mountaintop.

There is no running away from yourself.

Sooner or later, we had to face one another.

After defeating his enemies (him or herself most often), surviving his personal challenges, the Hero can be reborn, experiencing a metaphorical resurrection that grants him the power and insight to fill his destiny. This is the high point of the journey, where everything the hero holds dear is put on the line.

If he fails, there is either death or life, as he knows it will never be the same.

The Reward can come in many forms, including love.

Love was my reward for sticking it out. It was for me the Great Reward.

In time, I can return to the Ordinary World, to prepare for the last leg of my journey in this world. The return home celebrates self-realization, an end to endless strife, and success – the journey is over.

Things will never be the same again.