It occurred to me quite suddenly, as most things do, in a conversation. It just kind of spilled out like it was always there, regurgitated orally only when it was fully formed in my consciousness, feeling like a waking dream.

Lately I have been thinking about my ridiculous, I really think pathetic may be a better word, station in life. I have no great need for anything really, I have enough money, the necessary time, ok health, and a willing spirit for work, but I don’t want to say more about those things because I’m am fearful of stirring the jinx gods.

What am I doing with this luxury of resources? Well, I spend time playing musical instruments, recording myself, playing gigs at local wine bars, watching TV, reading books, walking, riding my bike, going out to eat—yup—-generally nothing useful. I have really been quite happy, most of the time, until some guy recently blurted out “retirement sucks, but at least it doesn’t last very long” in the community hot tub.

The hot tub guy pointed me in the right direction and then I fell in the rabbit hole. Right away I ran into Marilyn Monroe, she was standing there in front of me as I was ripping a guitar solo onstage. The dance floor was packed and she was wearing a low cut white dress, I was standing above her onstage and she looked great! She pursed her lips and gave me the come hither index finger, I leaned over and she whispered in her best JFK Happy Birthday voice, “I want you.” I was dimly aware of being in the hole, but her comment still felt very real. I pondered her offer for a nano-second and then blurted out my deepest feelings to her: but I am married and love my wife, what am I gonna tell my daughter ?, can we turn the lights off in the room ?, do you have a room? …..stuff like that.

I stumbled further down the hole. I was on another stage, playing a finely crafted original song, at a nice place, bathed in a blue spotlight. It must have been a while ago, because I could see the wafts of cigarette smoke hanging like clouds in the blue light, and background noise of voices and tinkling glass. The audience was mesmerized and erupted in applause after the song as I stood and took a bow. I felt the warm glow of sincere appreciation, the pinnacle of achievement, and the beginning of fame and fortune. I bellied up to the bar afterwards and was approached by a man, he offered to buy me a drink, and asked me many questions about my music and songwriting. He had an English accent, and it was only after I asked about him did he reveal that he had heard about me from a friend and “flown over the pond” to see my performance at this small club. He then offered me, on the spot, a recording contract and a plane ticket back to London and Abbey Road Studios. I accepted.

I feel myself falling, the hole is getting smaller. I see an 8mm film projector and a b/w film rolling, a crooked finger is pointing at the screen. The hole is cramped and I am lying on my stomach watching it. It’s a film of a bridge, and that’s my car driving over the top of the bridge. I have driven over three large bridges in my life, the Mackinac into Michigan, the Coronado Bridge in San Diego, and the Skyline Bridge in Tampa. All three of these bridges scared me, I remember the feeling of terror and panic while driving over each of them. I couldn’t identify which of these bridges was in the film, but I could feel the panic well up in me as I struggled to get out of the rabbit hole.

I got out! I can’t remember exactly how, but I found myself sitting in a field covered in dirt and then another thought occurred, it had taken root like the tendril of a fast growing weed in my mind. There was no Marilyn Monroe, hell, I wouldn’t know what to do even if there was a Marilyn Monroe. The talent scout with the recording contract, he didn’t exist either. They were part of the 5% solution. I was not sure why I was shown the bridge movie.

When I was young Marilyn and the Talent Scout were both part of a grandiose dream. It was a dream sparked by energy, exuberance, and the eternal hope of youth. Those times were filled with endless possibilities, it was the 95% solution. It was like rocket fuel to the imagination, a world filled with rock n roll endings, among other spectacular outcomes. To this day I remember standing outside, during my senior year in high school, waiting in the dark at the end of my parents driveway for my friends Ted and Jon to pick me up for a New Years Eve Party. It was bitterly cold that night, December 31st, 1973, they were late and I waited stamping my feet in the crunchy snow for at least 30 minutes. I could see the lights inside the house, and hear the voices of my parents and siblings talking as I waited. There was no way I was going back inside because that was the past, there was so much waiting out there for me and I wanted to get on with it, rushing headlong into the abyss of unknowing without as much as a second thought. I looked up into the cloudless night sky at the twinkling stars and swore that I would never forget that moment. I still remember that night, and the feeling I had, filled with 95% solutions.

The 95% solution is easy. It’s restless and big, not bound by time because that’s an endless resource. Music, my first love, was an integral part of the solution, but really only a small 5% part of it. It’s so cool to be young, dreaming, thinking, and talking big. All the other stuff like disappointment, disillusionment, and death only happened to the unlucky, and that wasn’t me. Over the years the percentages slowly changed from 95%-5% to now at age 65, 5%-95%. The 95% at age 65 is the music. In the end it’s love for something that brings me happiness, joy and contentment. There is no hint of restlessness here, it’s the mirrored lake of calm at dawn before the disturbance of even a breath of wind. It’s meditative and it’s timeless. Any attempt I would make to describe “it” would fail. There isn’t any way to describe with words how I feel when looking at a beautiful violin waiting to be played, or the feeling of the wood in my hands, the artistry of the craftsmanship, and the sound that it makes next to my ear. Researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls this phenomenon “flow”, a state of total contentment.

But there is still a riddle here. What is the need, at age 65, for the 5%, and what’s the deal with the bridges, and staring up in the sky at age 18, and the rabbit hole, and my God, why do you still think about Marilyn Monroe? Well, I have answers for all, if you already have not solved these simple riddles.

Looking up in the sky at age 18, a true story remembered in full detail as if it happened yesterday, is the unbounded and hurried anticipation of the future, with all of its possibilities and dangers. The 95% of youth is hope, in all of its glory and deception. The 5% of youth is a small acknowledgment of the struggles needing to be embraced, negotiated, and acted on to reach the fulfillment guaranteed of the 95%. The 95% of old age is the habits formed by a lifetime of hard work, disappointment, successes and failures, and the necessity to retain a sense of meaning and contentment while facing inevitable decline and sometime despair. The 5% of old age is hope. Practicing, reading, writing, helping, and working with a sense of purpose and achieving “flow” are not enough. There always must be the ember of hope, something that says to the world “I was here” and in some way mattered and was important. For some it may be an association with the celebrity and of Marilyn Monroe, and a recording contract and music that reaches millions, for others the 5% is quite different. The rabbit hole is a bad place to be avoided, I fall in when I doubt or diminish the power of the 5%. The last tunnel in the rabbit hole is the movie, and the terror of the bridges. It’s a reminder of what could happen if I lose the hope of the 5%.