We are born into this world naked and helpless. If we do it right, we leave this world with a smile on our face and no regrets. Somewhere in between, there comes a time when we question our existence. This process is called a midlife crisis.

My midlife crisis took place in the summer of 1986. I had spent about 20 years as a computer programmer and consultant. I was very good at it. Anything short of perfection was never an option. Then one day I began to ask myself some important questions.

Was all this hard work worth it?

What difference did my existence have on the grand scheme of things?

How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?

Why did Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

Obviously, not all of my questions had depth but I was trapped in the rat race and knew I had to do something about it or I was going to wind up in a padded cell next to the guy who invented Teen-age Ninja Turtles.

So I did the only logical thing I could think of at the time. I quit working, sold my possessions, bought a 4X4 pickup truck with a camper shell and acquired all the necessary equipment to become a gold prospector.

Then I left Los Angeles, with a dog named Shadow at my side, and headed for the hills. I never expected to strike it rich but I had this romantic notion that the adventure would be the real treasure.  If I managed to stumble upon the Mother Lode, it would only be frosting on the cake.

I spent a couple of days poking around the Mohave Desert near the old mining town of Randsburg. There was plenty of broken glass, but not much gold littering the landscape.

I soon headed north again and drifted around the old California gold fields near towns like Angels Camp, Grass Valley and Placerville. Most of this territory was private property, making it difficult to find a secluded spot to set up camp or prospect.

Eventually, I made my way to Nevada and scouted the Silver Peak Mountains, west of Tonopah and Goldfield. This area had more claim markers than trees. Rather than dodge bullets, I decided to move on.

I went down to Arizona, into the wilderness east of Dolan Springs, where I camped among the Joshua trees. During the day, I hiked into the hills, taking samples along the way. At night, I sat by the campfire, staring at the stars, wondering whatever possessed me to live in a big city in the first place. It was a bit like being in heaven.

For the next several months, I camped on the low desert northeast of Wickenburg or up in the mountains near Prescott, depending on the weather. I actually found a few traces of gold now and then, but preferred to spend most of my time staring at campfires and discussing philosophy with Shadow.

It was a glorious experience.

The most important thing I learned was that the purpose in life is to discover the purpose in life.

And in order to discover the purpose in life, you must realize that you are of paramount importance and total insignificance, both at the same time.

You must become fearless in order to become whole.

Suffering and injustice can only be overcome with grace and courage.

Patience is the key to inner peace and eternal contentment.

The most important thing Shadow learned was where all the bones were buried. His purpose in life was to hang out in the desert with some crazed loner who kept staring into campfires, boring him with philosophy.

Six months after I started my midlife journey, I bought a home in the desert a few miles outside of Wickenburg where I began to live a simpler life. I did occasional computer work, just enough to keep the bills paid. I also started writing novels and continued to roam the desert, scratching for gold, eventually filing two mining claims. Later, I sold the mining claims for a tidy profit and found a publisher for my four novels.

My purpose in life has been fulfilled. I can now go to my grave with a smile on my face and no regrets.

I started out with nothing and still have most of it.

My riches are my memories.

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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. Contact bret@centurytel.net