I just finished inhaling a meatball parmisan hero from Moe’s Deli in Weehawken, NJ. For those of you on Kauai, who are frigid averse, the temps here are bouncing around in the thirties. I got in last night and could easily have spent this entire day indoors, but I put it all on the line and ventured out for nearly a half hour.

This morning, I did my portable yoga practice, away from all the familiar markings I use around my house to keep my balance when I find myself on one leg, imitating a skinny tree. The moment I started stretching into my first sun salutation, I said hello to my whole body, like I’ve known it my entire life. I guess you could say that no matter where you find yourself, if you have a solid body connection, you are never far from home. This will not so brilliantly lead us to the theme for today’s exercise, pun intended.

One other thing before I tell you why I wanted to write in the first place. It’s the music. It’s always the music. While yoga may center me in my body, music gets my soul going, filling it with life. At this very moment, Etta James is singing, Hush Hush. Music has been my best friend, even before Bill Haley and the Comets sang, Rock Around Clock. In keeping with the weather theme, music is like the cocoon of a gigantic comforter, keeping me perfectly warm, lost in my partnership with the award winning soundtrack of my life.

We’ve covered some good bases with yoga and music and meatball parmesan heroes. It would seem the only thing we’re missing is the mind. I seem to grow into my thoughts during the course of the day.

Oh, I didn’t fly all the way here just to have a hero from Moe’s. I am visiting family. For a while, I was enjoying writing about my grandson until his Dad asked me not to, primarily because he felt it violated his privacy. I was initially put off by it, but came around quickly to completely agree with him, even taking it further.

The ongoing revolution of social media has blurred the lines of privacy for all of those not living under a rock. I think when we were relegated to using the postal service to communicate, what we wrote was intended for the recipient. Today, it seems like many of us are still posting with same level of intimacy, except complete strangers now blindly share in it. Now, I am willing to share myself, but avoid bringing others into my stories, because they can tell their own.

My mind has been stuck on what to share, while I am with my family. I don’t look around for signs, but when my brain is percolating, it will eventually latch on to something and it becomes like one of those cloud thoughts you see in cartoons. The actions may keep changing, but the cloud stays afloat, scene to scene.

Last night, when I arrived and finally checked on missed emails, there was one from a good friend. Her son is on the verge of thirteen and she asked friends if they would write to him “on thoughts of life and the journey.” It was on my mind this morning and was going to carry forward until it found a way to land on a page. It was not a stretch for me to think about what I’d write to my grandson. What simple words of advice could a 73 year old guy offer to a young boy? How to distill a life time into a couple of sentences a young boy might possibly understand?

I thought of the story of Sidney Arthur. When I first heard about Siddartha, I gave him a Jewish sounding name, primarily because I am not well mentally and it was my way of feeling his pain. He came from royalty and he was not allowed to leave the palace. The idea was to shield him from any human sufferring, which I guess you could say is the prayer every parent has for their young children. Let’s get back to me and Sid. I enliked what my friend was asking to what I would say to the Buddha before he left the palace for the first and last time.

I would say to my friend’s son, to Sid and my grandson to be Mindful Always. I would advocate becoming your own best friend by continually getting to know yourself better and better. True Mindfulness is not a word you can ever define, so there is no need to worry about its meaning, at least in the usual way, because it keeps changing and changing. Its about going out of your way to stay in touch with your feelings and your thoughts. The ingredients we choose to put in our life recipe are how we keep it fresh and worth the effort.

I would debunk the idea that wisdom magically awaits us all as we age and begin to ferment. I know we are tattooed by our mistakes and you can count on their accumulation. Sometimes, we actually learn from them and others we are destined to keep repeating, I am much more comfortable with the word, experience. Growing up is a myth, naively offering comfort ahead, with the road supposedly smoothing out, becoming easier to navigate.

When we are so young, we love to look to tomorrow. We are at home with our imagination. I wouldn’t dream of tampering with the exuberance of youth. Education is all about our external world and my advice would never diminish the value of knowledge and disciplining the mind. I grew up outward focused, learning about all sorts of stuff. I don’t know why, but as I got older, I wanted to learn more about myself, knowing instinctively it was the most valuable education.

Sid, I think you did a pretty good job growing up, so there is nothing I feel I can add to your story. To the two young boys, I say start getting to know yourselves better everyday and share the gift of who you are with others, trying to be compassionate always.