Not long after my mission, I found myself drawn back to my native alienation. It’s been a constant struggle for me to inhabit the world of people. I’ve had moments, even months, of warm clarity of vision. But then I have receded again into my natural state, bondage to some vision of my own power and priority. My wife and then my children, in company with others who have loved me, have slowly made me more open and tender—even loving. By the time I was in my thirties, I still struggled with the nagging sense that I was by nature a misanthrope. But there were people in my life whom I loved, and I could generally be kind to the rest, as long as I remembered to work at it.
