When I was nineteen, I hopped a Yugoslavian freighter, and jumped ship in Casa Blanca for no other reason than it sounded like a romantic and adventurous way to get across the Atlantic. I didn’t have any idea about where the journey would end up taking me. Months later while I was travelling in Europe, my older sister was back in the States studying with Joseph Campbell at Sarah Lawrence College. I wrote to her telling her that I was becoming interested in Indian philosophy. She was excited about her professor’s work, and on a hunch she sent me a copy of Campbell’s book, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. When I began reading the book, I remember feeling that I …