My limited command of English (I talk American) is insufficient to communicate my gratitude towards those who made the effort to celebrate my 50th birthday (L.A. Edition). But those who joined me from start to finish will not soon forget the evening, nor will I forget them.

My perfect day began, fittingly, with a road trip south from San Francisco, my spiritual home and birthplace of the Monk odyssey. While cruising in the Prius I drifted and dreamed of past loves and future glories. One hour before the big event I was fortunate to be in L.A. to watch the fourth quarter of the Lakers-Magic finals with neighbor LJ Kool Snyder, and share in the unfiltered, un-scripted, and un-commercialized (for a few moments anyway) post-game celebration.

I am a junkie for true emotional expression from athletes who have genuinely exhausted themselves in triumph. I cathartically shared in the tears of Kobe Bryant, Derek Fisher, and even “The Zen Master,” Coach Phil Jackson, who teaches by rare and self-effacing detachment how to enable others to become the best versions of themselves.

I get teary-eyed now just thinking about that level of wisdom, and the lithe, elegant athleticism of Pau Gasol, Lamar Odom, Trevor Ariza, and, of course, Mr. Bryant, and the harmonious beauty of the Lakers’ triangle offense and opportunistic D. They are at long last a team that rivals in character and demeanor the poised, refined championship squads of UCLA’s John Wooden.

After the Lakers hard-earned triumph, I walked over to Monk Space L.A., which had been brilliantly transformed by Michael Lane and Christine Clausen into an urban art campground.

There was fantastic punk /new wave dancing (with some Deee-Lite thrown in) in the big warehouse and, later, story-telling around a gorgeous campfire, accentuated by Miki and Josh’s sweet musical backdrop. Who will forget Jay Levin’s tale of Abbie Hoffman’s “threes and nines,” Stewart’s tale of the gang-banger who stole his camera (and the pleasant surprise he got when it was returned), or Michael Lane’s journey with Kurt Cobain, the only man “more quiet” than the Monk. I sure won’t.

From Cornhusker Julie Shay to San Diego’s William Hope Hawkes to b-ball buddies Anthony and Link, to Patty and Mark, Christine and Stewart, Swedish Sarah and American Sarah, the incredibly generous Lisa Fancher, Michael, Mike, Danny, Michelle, Chris and Chris, Tim and Little Tommy, Care Bear and Bruce, DJ Aaron and Tip, architects Richard and John, BH, Terrence, Doug, Sonia, Carlos, and many more, thank you to everyone who kept their promise to spend this time with me. Each of you brought a message into my heart, often unspoken.

I really like this number 50. It’s clean, it’s epic, it’s even. For me it’s a rebirth of compassionate Will and Power. I see the destination so crystal clear now. I know how energies can be dissipated into un-fruitful detours. I have always known where I want to go inside. I knew early on what travails I had to intentionally endure in order to birth a new consciousness in others and me. Seeming friends often did not understand the practical reasons for these purpose-driven tests of character. But I did. And, with the risk of sounding prideful, at 50, I can finally unveil a confident smile, because, Lord, I actually do know what I am doing.

And now comes again the time, after a long hiatus, to share what I’ve learned. The last ten years have had their fits and starts, amidst myriad experiments in form and content, but that’s because, amidst a Joycean sea change in lifestyle and technology, I’ve been birthing something new. “Make it new,” Ezra Pound admonished. I take him at his word.

No longer the full-time peripatetic, I am letting grow the possibility of a more grounded, yet beautifully free expression. I have an idea of what that new incarnation might look like and am making strong efforts to be ready when it appears.

In the meantime, I am cleaning house. Starting with the freshly cleaned L.A. Monastery, courtesy of beautiful and talented Brette Gentry (drummer with The Parson Red Heads), and moving on to family, work, and a creativity that is free of clutter, doubt, and distraction.

Stay tuned over the next year as my unfinished dreams find their final expression. Because for me, it’s about consciousness, and sharing that consciousness with those I love.

My birthday was a capsule summary of how I believe higher consciousness is achieved: through ecstatic movement, real food, stalwart friendship, tender song, heart-filled story, mindful presence, and, yes, a blazing campfire.

With deep love and appreciation,

Crotty, at 50