Years ago I found myself struggling, like many young men of my age with the problem of choosing a suitable vocation. Blessed with a voice for singing, an eye for beauty, an ear for melody and rhyme, I eventually found my way to the path of the artist, yet continued to yearn for something even larger and more transcendent. My hunger you see was not for beauty alone, but for wisdom, truth and moral purpose. In addition, while I felt a call to serve I had no desire to do so in a conventional manner. Neither politics, the military nor religion, in the form with which I was familiar, were the path for me. Then one night I had a dream in which I found myself sitting in a small wooden boat floating in the middle of a mountain lake. A somewhat portly old man wearing a white skullcap and a long white gown, stood peacefully at the other end. "Daniel David Joseph" he began, gazing down at me with a gentle, fatherly smile, "By choosing to become an artist you are running away from your highest potential." "But what could be more beautiful than the singing of a bird?" I insisted. "Love is more beautiful" said the figure in white, to which I stubbornly replied "But I love beauty..." Though we continue with this debate for some time, in my heart of hearts I sense the rightness in his words, and while reluctant at the thought of neglecting my daily practice, when the old man asks me to accompany him on a special journey, I accept. That journey was the journey of the dream…
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