Los Angeles, California – On the edge of this city of bright lights, the metropolis disintegrates and fizzles into grains of sand carried away by small waves. We are perched in a house of timber and glass, a precarious construction that looks out into the void. Comfort is found in friends, in the search for beauty. There are sculptures and paintings, Maria’s far-away eyes and Jared’s long black hair and loose, friendly swagger.

We are pilgrims on the verge of something. Is it the end of our quest that I glimpse in the distance or just the acceptance that the quest is all? There is something shimmering out at sea that comforts me – though I don’t know yet what it is. No matter. I am just grateful that it is there. After so many years of desperate wandering, I am glad of this sense of impending peace. It is enough.

On the beach there is a meeting of monster trucks, a tai chi expert, surfers, fishermen, morning coffee drinkers, dog walkers, exercise nuts, people without work and people beyond the need of work. It is a new town for me and I am searching for its vibe. It will take time to understand its rhythm, its people, its ways. It may not happen during this visit, but I will begin.

Our quest takes us through many cities and increasingly home becomes something elusive. After tasting many places, it is hard to reconcile oneself to any one place; memories of other lands are always twirling in your head. If you stay in a single location long enough, it feels like home but it might just be a habit.

I do not believe home is a place, but instead some certainties I carry with me. A destiny. A love. Friendships new and old. Lingering desires. The awareness I have gained through the years. These things are my home in this world of transit and transformation.

Increasingly, material things burden me. I do not want possessions aside from a few tools that aid me in my quest. If it is not helping me get closer to my dreams, I do not want to carry it. I have been shedding and shedding until I have nothing but the essential and nothing I can’t carry on my back.

The things that matter most to me are intangible. I turn these things out into the world to make their own way: my writings, my songs, a sentiment, a solo that sounded good on stage the other night. They do not even belong to me.

Perhaps that is why I am at peace.