Avatars and Cheese

Over the last two-years, there were numerous times I’ve caught myself making decisions so that my "story" would be better. The blog had become a bit of a hybrid creative-outlet/ego-feeder; something I too closely identified with. I liked the idea that I was doing something that others either couldn't do or were afraid to, and naturally that appealed to me! Telling the story has, at times, shadowed why I'm doing it. Nothing personal, but what I'm doing should have nothing to do with entertaining anyone else!

Don Quixote Re-Visited

I spent a good part of October and early November rabidly questioning rather I have simply "Quixoted" my experiences and the ideas I follow, ultimately finding myself hyper-sensitive to indications that either Chris or I, ourselves, are diluted. The answers, for myself at least, were quite quick and simple: I didn't go looking for any of this. It found me. And, when I finally mustered the courage to step out, I actually foresaw myself wandering around in the desert or mountains like a wannabe Survivorman! On 5/21/08, as I stepped away from Jackson Lake State Park, I was naively thinking mostly survivalist & "becoming money-free" thoughts.

That began to silently change for good in Fort Morgan first with Richard, then Dennis and our now-infamous ride across the Rockies. I was looking for neither a ride, experience, a "lesson," or... anything. My mind was blank; I just went with it:

...I decided to ride it out, and see where it took me. Part of the journey... part of the story... blah... blah...I think I'm going to look back on that as a significant moment. We'll see.

-5/24/08: "The Road Has Always Led West"

And, see I did. The experience followed, the "lessons" became more apparent later with the benefit of perspective, and most importantly were growing organically FROM these encounters. I applied no preconceived notion to fit them within a tenuous point-of-view, in fact the P.O.V. was amended to "Work in Progress," and some of this from Day #3 will sound very familiar. It's been the consistent foundation beneath nearly every idea:

... the [awareness of] serendipity kicked in. I figured out why he picked me up, and then had a pretty good idea why I was now heading west... Again, the conversation- as with the night before with Richard- centered on finding answers within yourself rather than Pink Floyd's "someone or something to show you the way"; or Leonard Cohen's "Waiting for the Miracle": "... The idea's getting clearer.

-5/24/08: "The Road Has Always Led West"

On some level, I was immediately shown that I had been looking in the wrong direction both on the map & in my mind; I started under the wrong impression as to what this odyssey was about, or that I could even know what that was. Any credit I deserve from that point forward centers on that initial ability to depersonalize the mistake, and let the odyssey define itself, which it did almost immediately... with Richard and especially Dennis... although I wouldn't see to what extent for over a year.

“Do you want to know who you are? Don't ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”

That first few days was my first cold reminder of a hard-learned lesson; one savagely beaten into my own skull before I had left. All the mental masturbation I can muster is useless without the test-of-action. Action that must consist of an unattached AND unbiased scrutiny of your own actions and ideas. This is one of the few places that outside help is useful, but honest scrutiny, regardless of whom it's from, can only come through a clear lens. One of clarity, application, experience, perspective, and truth. It's applying the scientific method to yourself and it must be done without a personal, sentimental, egoistic attachment to your original thesis or, worse, your "work of art." Otherwise, why bother? Maybe a fantasy novel would better suit.

Rather than being the painter of some intellectual, rebellious "personal truth," I was suddenly struggling to hang on as the lone passenger aboard this rudderless "Raft on a River," bobbing toward "truth" without a paddle and subjugating myself to the role of the observant passenger gawking at the landscape.

All this in the first week. I wish I had put more into the writing. Talk about a mind-fuck!

Chris & I later described it as the "Sidecar," and this is where I consistently meet the most incredible people. Dennis. Cesar. Pat. Ciel. Ken. Pastor Snake. Randleman. Leslie. Joel. Don. Andre. Every single time, I've been in the passenger- state, and have long since, with a few exceptions such as Michigan, tried to remain there. At times I've succeed; at times I haven't. At its best, I am completely unaware of the process! I believe this state of just being has many names, and the one that comes to mind is that which Brian provided: Flow. It's fundamentally impossible to achieve with the ego at the wheel.

Beyond Richard & Dennis, there are other examples of unexpected twists-and-wrinkles that have guided me in directions I otherwise would have purposely avoided. The most remarkable event (confined to '08) as it turned out was this little town in North Carolina. Randleman. Home of Richard Petty. This is one of the more remarkable examples of synchronicity, and odd in that it was the final event of the summer, setting the table nicely for much of 2009. I never intended to go to Asheboro and was taken there, if you recall, by a Guatemalan who spoke little English. I thought he was taking me toward Raleigh! Asheboro (then Randleman) itself turned out to be one of those Sit Down & Shut Up moments, and through sheer unexpected chance and freewill, I found myself with these Motley Crue Christians.

I was absolutely NOT seeking out any sort of spiritual insight! On the contrary. I have an aversion to religion, and avoid their gatherings like the plague. But, this one was different, and through the process of patience, intuition, and freewill, I was handed the seeds that would sprout into some remarkably powerful insights and ideas, and broaden my applicable perspective immensely.

Help me out here if you can, but I'm struggling to see where I have subconsciously engineered this. I'm NOT that clever!

Early 2009 was much the same idea, but the theme had changed. With Chris and I traveling together, ideas were much easier to exchange and develop, but we were also mirroring each other and struggling to soothe our powerful, egoistic identities. That, in and of-itself, was the "lesson" of the east coast while, as mentioned in the previous post, June in Michigan was the culmination of decades spent battling an identity-crisis.

More importantly, June was also the most extreme "test" of my personal armor, and I was confronting frightening demons with a sword I had personally forged. That took an amount of courage that I was surprised I possessed. However, I later realized that there was something more important in-play than the risk of hurt feeling and a bruised ego: knowing. Knowing the truth about this "mythical family" so I could draw accurate conclusions; ones based on fact and battle-tested experience. Excalibur and the armor held- with the help of recognizing something more important than myself.

I believe this says much about what I believe, and my steadily intensifying-intolerance for the excuse-making relativists: Reality Escape Artists. I myself am partially responsible for the time it took to meet Shelly, Lynette, and Mike. Partially out of cowardice, rather than "act," I deferred responsibility by offering every variety of excuse explaining The Hens peculiar behavior over those 15-years, and why they kept quiet. I knew all along, but continued deferring with, "Maybe..." this. "Maybe..." that. While in Michigan, I heard many more "Maybes" from many other sources. Through a little controlled confrontation, I offered the opportunity for the Escapist View to prevail. They were dead wrong. As was I for a decade-and-a-half.

Fear, and an abdication of responsibility through victimization while conveniently clinging to Utopian hope were my greatest failings. When deferring responsibility through externalized "hope" fails and becomes a crumbling crutch, one has to attack the responsibility for examining and dealing with raw-reality themselves... or take the initiative to immediately shut the fuck up and accept what comes with submission. This may appear to be a reference to June, but in retrospect it's been something that I've applied in more situations than I was aware.

"The trouble with self-delusion, either in a person or a society, is that reality doesn't care what anybody believes, or what story they put out. Reality doesn't "spin." Reality does not have a self-image problem. Reality does not yield its workings to self-esteem management."

I violently disagree with the notion that truth is subject to the whims of your ego. Since I've returned to Santa Fe, repeatedly reflecting on these nagging ideas has pushed me over an important threshold. I am moving quickly into a room filled with a rude, abrasive bitch named Personal Responsibility, and away from the escapist fairie tale telling that "The Fates" are so preoccupied and impressed with me, that they only live to teach precious me a lesson-a-minute from their classic: The Magical Book of the Mystically Mundane. No, I suspect we're required to at least occasionally learn without intervention from The Gods.

Fate and Karma are no man's bitch, as I've said many times. They will not be "forced into action" by disguised, self-serving egoistic action, no matter how eloquently they're spun and presented. We were given freewill and the ability to make decisions regarding our instincts for a reason. Yet, if we choose to relinquish our common sense or submit to compulsions thinly veiled by an overbearing, creative ego's voodoo linguistics, succumb to a self-centered and overzealous mysticism, or ignore common sense all together? Well, this isn't a first-class safari trip. To the extreme, the consequences can be as mocking, harsh, and unforgiving as any of the other brutal laws dictated by Mother Nature. Ask Chris McCandless.

“Don't talk about what you have done or what you are going to do”

I've also finally come to terms with my growing disinterest and shrinking sympathy for the hypnotized masses and my seemingly rude, expanding unwillingness to suffer and/ or encourage repeated rationalization by the self-diluted; those who are more concerned with protecting their comfortable, contrived narrative than knowing even a taste of Cold Truth. They are the modern-day descendants of Don Quixote, and the new objects of my attention.

Often, they are the ones trying to figure out a way to impress you with their past exploits or grandiose plans for the future. I've admittedly been guilty of the latter in particular. It's as though empty, shallow anecdotes of days past or proclamations of days to come reflect on who they are today! Only the egotist needs to display who they once were or who they "will be" tomorrow. They've yet to figure out that "You" are not the road you've traveled, nor is the future guaranteed. "You" are the patch of road you occupy NOW. If they're not sharing a particular experience by request, to entertain, or as an effective comparison to what's in the present, I inevitably hear, "This one time at band camp..."

Does this mean you automatically write these folks off forever? That's up to you, but people evolve until they're dead. And, the actual work needs to be done alone in dark solitude. Beyond sharing ideas, it's useless to try to "educate" or "save" someone, and it's ego of the worst kind to believe you can, or worse: should.

To believe you're special brand of wisdom and eloquence are capable of changing a man's heart for them may be the height of arrogance, and a lust for control. None of us have the right to deprive a man's personal path from him. On the other hand, offering tools or maps, for him to decide rather or not to use, may be the height of charity, and puts the responsibility squarely where it belongs: on the individual.

Finally, there is an important distinction I want to make and be VERY clear about: I have no interest in criticizing or condescending to the man living a life of luxury- while holding no airs of righteous superiority. I can respect the most vile capitalist if he has thought about, and is genuinely happy with where he is; not pretending to be a credit to humanity or Arm of God.

At the end, the successful life is the one that was happy, content, and fulfilled. If wealth and material possessions REALLY grant you that, consider yourself a rarity & have at it. It's the hypocrites, spending all day on the corner displaying a faux-erudition and righteousness, that I refuse to stomach; the trust-fund babies preaching poverty as if on-cue while returning home to the gated community; the sex-addicted priest preaching the villainy of adultery; the naive puppet taking the touristy, guided volunteer "field trip to a poor place," then claiming they have experienced and understand famine and oppression. Fuck... you.

What we fill our own private-minds with is fascinating! As long as it's comfortable (or at least familiar), it's usually welcome. Factual? Who fucking cares! It's easier to digest! However, recognizing this, like recognizing and engaging the ego in combat, is at first difficult, then empowering! And, I don't mean the "burn your bra" brand of empowering. It can help provide a bit of mastery over your habits, emotions, and ego, as well as helping to bring into the open these little narratives we all create in our minds. In short, it's the ability to stop bullshitting yourself, and I'm finally going to use myself as the prop again!

As November began, I was starting to realize and take notice of where I still needed work on this. There are a few examples, but one that was pathetic and obvious.

Cigarettes.

Don Quixote & Other Winter Rantings

Prelude: Portions of this will look VERY familiar to a few of you; particularly those on my email list. It's a work-in-progress that, originally, began as part of the 9/19 post. I quickly retracted when I realized that this Quixote idea was going to have enormously long legs and run far... even up my own leg! Much of this was written in early- mid October. It's been edited, re-edited, and will likely change again in the near future as I add and condense ideas. When I'm relatively certain it's done, I'll add it to the link-bar at the top. While it's sure to offend some and disquiet others, as it should, it's by no means a manifesto... at least not yet!

Don Quixote is a wonderful book. If you're enjoying my little perspective on things, I highly recommend it as companion reading, for the perceptive reader! In fact, highlighting my business cards, along with this URL, is this famous Picasso painting of Quixote, Rocinante, and Sancho Panza. I chose it for 2009 to remind myself not to "go fighting windmills." In other words, fight to see things as they are; not as I would choose them to be.

If you've read Don Quixote, you know that the wisdom of following he and Sancho on ANY shortcut would be dubious at best. With that in mind, Chris and I had a short conversation in Port Townsend about the iconic Alcoholics Anonymous phrase, "Fake it to Make It." The conversation ended when I expressed a vehement disgust for the notion and it was obvious that we would have to agree to disagree. If you've read the Cervantes classic, you already know where I'm headed.

"Fake It to Make It"

I endured having this cute, infantile phrase, Fake It to Make It, beaten into my skull years ago while a young, state-ordered, A.A. apprentice. At the time, I loved it because it relieved my drunk, lazy, frightened and diluted ass of the responsibility of actually becoming the person I wanted to be. "Are you saying that if I just dressed up in pretend, mental armor and acted like that person, faked it, I would appear to myself to be so! Then, I could imagine everyone else saw me that way too! Halloween for the self-esteem!" Sweet.

It's The Don Quixote Folly: "If you want to be a knight, just act like a knight!" Fake It to Make It. Rather than making the necessary internal changes to actually "become a knight," it suggests to the desperate or lazy soul that the external & superficial acts of "dressing up" in imaginary fantasy or doctrinal costumes will result in these desired changes magically seeping in from the outside, until one day you'll supposedly wake up with an invitation to the Round Table. Taken in this context, the base idea is obscene.

I concede that it provides a useful, temporary sanctuary for those who are too (understandably) frightened or ill-equipped to confront their dragons; as long as it's presented as temporary. Unfortunately, in my experience, it's not and encourages blatant self-delusion as a watered-down substitute for authentic self-confrontation; addressing the external symptoms rather than attacking the internal cause. "You too can make rationalization work for you!"

Been there.

Playing "Make-Believe" is something we discourage children from doing at a certain young age, yet we encourage it in addicts? Odd. To my knowledge, Wendie and A.A. have never been introduced, and to be clear, the conversation Chris and I had did not involve her at all. But, after watching the daypack fly the day I left Port Townsend, combined with the entire tapestry of my experience with her, that silly "Fake It To Make It" phrase popped came to mind, and immediately reminded me of Don Quixote & Sancho!

To understand why, you first need some fundamentals.

From Chris's descriptions, I had unfairly, high expectations of Wendie from the very beginning. They have an incredibly close bond but beyond base ideology, where I expected similarities, they are nothing alike. Chris is never visibly upset and takes pride in that, externally at least, he appears to feel nothing but somatic peace, joy, & happiness. I've never seen Wendie exude any sense of calm. Yet, she is a practicing Buddhist, the dogma of meditation, forgiveness, and an inner serenity! Including our short time together in New Jersey, I've always perceived an obvious, amusing, and glaring inconsistency: A cavernous disconnect between her professed, abstract belief system and her tangible energy, vibe, and persona: an unexplained negativity channeled into non-stop, frenzied intensity. I often wanted to ask, "How's that Buddha working out for ya?" but I was entertained, and feared my health would suffer for such a query.

Arriving in Port Townsend, I had recently experienced something similar thing in Idaho, so it was still rather top-of-mind. From my own history, I'm hyper-sensitive to disguised, seeping anger and have always noticed it gently oozing from Wendie; the tension Chris warned me about? It was always just... there. The difference in Washington, I suspect, was that it had intensified due to an infringement upon Daniel's turf. I never saw it, but Wendie was probably forced to juggle and soothe much more of his polite-yet-keen annoyance with visitors than I/we were privy to. Still, I can understand having me sleep outside, but even letting her brother? For the better part of what turned out to be a month? When there's an empty couch?!? I doubt that came from Wendie, and it doesn't take Dr. Phil to phigure out phrom whence the added "tension" sprung.

Quite honestly, I' not concerned with any of the personal, internal dynamics of Casa Wendie y Daniel, nor are they my business. It's the pretense of to the-letter Progressive Pamphlet Ideology and the accompanying affection for eastern theology that piqued my interest. To be more specific, touting philosophies that claim peace, love, & contentment... while exuding quiet anxiety or anger when you laugh!

Next to baseball, people watching is my favorite spectator sport. Most of my best insights come from moments when I'm not involved in setting (like watching backpacks fly); when I can forget bantering and silently study linguistics (beyond language), as well as body language, attitude, ego indicators, tone (dominant/ submissive?), and just feel the tangible energy exchange referred to in the fictional Celestine Prophecy.

I hold no preconceived notions of "I'd like to think all people are good/ bad," so I'm not hampered by rose or shit-colored spectacles and can tell, very, very quickly, who I'm dealing with. The process begins before we even speak; with that "energy." You may laugh, but this INITIAL wordless assessment is accurate 80-90% of the time! And after engaging in or listening to a conversation? I am almost always right in the end. Call me arrogant, but it's a fact. Ask Shalain!

After intently listening and watching her, my intuition (and that's all it is) has been unwavering from the beginning: that there's something much deeper not-so-gently working Wendie. It appeared to me that (admittedly after only limited interaction) that she's likely hiding, protecting, ignoring, or coming to terms with something frighteningly powerful and that this "something" is probably old, ugly, and clawing to get out. There were similar elements in Boise, but Wendie invokes in me a disturbing resemblance to by estranged half-sister, Christine. Where exactly that familiarity comes from, I don't know.

Tectonics

With all this said, and keeping in mind the theology/ ideology, I began a long time ago to speculate if, rather than turning to REALLY face it, perhaps she had tried to find peace like so many others: "Playing with [insert deity]"; hoping to "fake it to make it;" hoping tranquility seeps in from "out there" and suffocates the beast while escaping into external agenda and the frenzied, non-stop activity to avoid the monster... in case it's not working.

Instead of allowing hard-earned, original, organic beliefs be the fruit of fearsome introspection & their unique experience, many people of all theological or ideological persuasions cloak themselves within the Jesus/ Buddha blanket, or mimic their approved "Books of Chivalry." They then stand proudly on the mountain for the world (and themselves) to see; and conveniently further conceal what still lurks beneath. It's common to read eloquent words and want to feel that they are the "magic bullet" or the "cure." Once you do, from there it's an easy step to simply place these ideas atop a dangerously active seismic foundation without first really applying the ideas internally.

This whole process is blood for my shark's nose; I can smell it miles away because I've feasted on it, and when I do I'm keenly observant and sometimes relentless in outing it... often to a fault and the end of my more shallow relationships! But, from my own experience I am comfortable declaring that The Quixote may momentarily work, but only as long as your emotional tectonics are stable and you can completely control your environment (reality?) allowing no one to mirror or challenge you, while most importantly refusing to challenge yourself. Inevitably however, once there's enough built-up stress, discomfort, or tense conflict, the core rumbles and fault lines ultimately appear... sometimes flying down the steps!

This "seismic activity," while painful, is in fact a blessing for those who have the courage to both acknowledge it then look deeply into their core. I'm convinced it's the soul kicking and screaming to be heard; refusing to be suffocated while simultaneously struggling to expose the problem. But, unidentified or ignored, it can also manifest itself in many forms, including alcoholism, drug abuse, depression, anxiety...

The Splinter in the Mind

It's quite a simple idea once you strip away plain rhetoric and agenda. You feel physical pain in your body when somethings wrong, correct? Would you trust a doctor that treated your broken bone by only numbing the area and telling you to alter how you use the limb? Hell, no! You'd demand he find the break and set it! Then you'd let it heal and move on. You'd treat the cause, allowing internal healing to relieve the pain AND renew functionality. Why then is it such an unnerving thought that we may feel psychological pain when something's off-course? And, why do we assume that it's a defect within the person, when perhaps it's culture itself that's the tormentor?

Why is that never discussed or even seriously considered, that maybe... just maybe... men were not intended to give 1/3 of their lives in exchange for what, to many, becomes a comfortable, sterile cage? Maybe the institutional hamster-wheel of "Produce-Consume-Repeat" should cause some discomfort. Perhaps those that can't deactivate that pesky nerve to numb the Splinter are actually "healthier" than the assimilated. You may disagree and that's fine, but I'd retort by asking: Why are more & more people like Wendie, in varying degrees, becoming aware of and leaving the construct behind in whatever ways they can? Chris and I, along with many others have both seen and noticed it. Let me guess... the financial "crisis?"

**Fun Fact! This general idea began as my working social-thesis (Survivorman) but seems to have shifted & dovetailed into a related theological-thesis somewhere around Randleman! My political-thesis will be short and simply titled "Fuck 'Em All."

This simplistic little analogy is obvious: Attack the cause, not the symptom. But the problem is, where it takes a specialist to set a bone, only we ourselves can be certain to locate, AND TREAT, our internal fractures. We can gather guidance & insight as to how, but with no X-Ray or standard anatomical schematic, the procedure is ours to perform with only honesty and courage as instruments.

Unfortunately, we're usually afraid to even look at the wound for fear of what we may find. So, we'll cover it up with a blanket like a child hoping that if it's concealed it will either vanish, or we'll forget it's there. To compound things, you may hear people eager to tell you, for a fee, that they have the elixir! More cultural assimilation. Or, a higher dose of escapism: You need to work harder to buy more shit! Perhaps a shot of Responsibility Relinquishment: Completely submitting to man's doctrinal version of Jesus/ Buddha/ Mohammad, Inc., thereby externalizing all good and evil! "The Devil made me do it, dad!"

Or... when they just are tired of bothering with you... "You need pharmaceuticals!"

With all the mental-flak and distractionary cover-fire, the ones who are subconsciously and violently fighting not to be lobotomized stand starkly in contrast to the masses that have docilely accepted role of numb, neutered consumer. There's a rare, third breed: those who have considered carefully and chosen their states willingly, often due to circumstances like familial concerns or even an admitted sloth! For them, comfortable consumerism may HAVE to work, and they deserve respect for at least taking responsibility for their own minds.

Many of the zombies will loudly try to convince us that they belong inside this little haven. A conversation and few well-placed questions later, the standard cliches appear. These folks illicit different reactions from me at different times, ranging from pity to disdain, depending on my mood, and I will usually disengage this brand of conversation quickly, unless I feel combative. It feels like arguing physics with Forest Gump... in Greek. Especially when the defensive egos kicks in! That's when you see the Quixote phenomenon in all its glory.

Technopoly

I am beginning to take many more of my cues from nature. I love to watch it work at both a macro and micro level, because there are stunning consistencies throughout and I believe that's how you can to some degree watch "God" work; it's as close to something tangible as we'll ever get. One of the primal laws is "Adapt or Die," and my canary-in-the-coalmine is this "Culture" blindly obliterating one of its fundamental tools for generations, choosing instead to hide beneath technology's flimsy tent, while furthering ignorance and infantile dependence with each spawning event. Meanwhile, we collectively hurdle toward Idiocracy. Think I'm wrong? Let's kill all the power for a month. Then, since no one has any real sustainable skills, we'll see another of Nature's laws go to work: "Survival of the Fittest." Scarey, aint it? We're a catastrophic power outage and ammunition supply away from becoming prey. That should speak to "technopoly" and our dependence:? we've traded comfort & convenience for self-reliance. Should we be pitied for that?

Despite my attentive ranting and beyond disgust (or pity), I'm just not generally concerned with (or for) most of them. The Zombified are content to be social & economic prey, are snoozing while fused to their La-Z-Boys, and there's no arousing the obese, content, lobotomized masses... unless there's a Doritos shortage or a new reality show for them to star in! Then, watch the fuck out! Balloon Boy and the Heene family are the perfect examples of American priorities. Rather than vilify, we should revere and honor them with a postage stamp! They're our creation AND our perfect reflection! Our Falconstein.

As for the self-professed "enlightened" ones: Even if you are "enlightened," you will NOT be heard over the cackles of the Sarah Palins or Ryan Seacrests. No social-revolution is coming. There is no "mass-intervention" capable of rendering The Biggest Loser, Dancing With the Stars, Survivor, & *cringe* American Idol impotent. Accept it, treat 'em as a spectator sport while seeking each other out and trying to remain functioning within the framework of reality. It's those who scratch at this Splinter in the Mind that are worth engaging.

Escaping Enchantment

Introspection and self-directed critical thought (Andre's 'Inner- Dialogue'), will, eventually, come naturally to a person seeking only simple truth; treating their lives like a research project rather than a role-playing game. It's generally hampered in those clinging to (identifying with) a comfortable, yet tenuous agenda or point-of-view: those desperately needing to believe they've "free the maiden." The ego prevents considering the possibility, even to themselves, that maybe they really were just attacking muledrivers. Feeling right is more important than being right. I've been guilty; all of us have. No one "wants" to feel "wrong" and in most people this tendency runs deep; well beyond ideological or theological boundaries.

It's important to just remember the simple difference between being clever & being correct, AND the clever techniques for confusing the two. If you're not simply terrorizing ancient Dutch technology, you should be able to easily prove it, with a little effort. Yet, fearing that they may actually "see the windmill" keeps most from really opening the eyes and looking...

While I understand fear, once exposed I have little tolerance for intentionally clinging to an antiquated, self-delusion. Pretending, professing, or even praying to believe something because it's an easy solution; a ready-made, convenient, external answer to your questions simply wont work for those with truly tuned-in, focused or developing sense of self and self-purpose. For those intentionally mistaking engineered consumerism or delusion for "Knight Errantry?" Point it out, then enjoy the show. It's all you can do! Some will never leave Plato's Cave and others will actually want to kill you for trying to expose their comfortable illusions. Right, Cypher?

Everything has to begin and grow from within with an unwavering focus on truth, reality, and self-honesty. And, in my opinion, it's better to read nothing- to know no philosophy- than to get lost in it by sacrificing our own personal compass; being consumed by pre-packaged doctrine while being reduced to incessantly parroting and re-enacting what amount to Quixote's Books of Chivalry. Jefferson put it best:

“He who knows nothing is closer to the truth than he whose mind is filled with falsehoods and errors.”

Or, not.





Addendum:I've learned that Wendie ended her & Daniel's co-habitation, and I feel a twinge of persistent apprehension about sharing some this, particularly (and perhaps unfairly) using her as a symbol; the same I felt surrounding Andre. However, the Quixote idea sprung from my visit there, and its nexus is important. Even on an abstract level, I think it serves as a powerful illustration as to how clever & conniving we can be with ourselves.

It took more than a month to fully grasp the scope and depth of this simple idea, and while not a comfortable process, applying it to myself has provided a most powerful tool! One becoming immediately indispensable and eventually assisting from beginning to completion in my most difficult accomplishment to date. It also helped to put to rest nagging self-doubts and set the table for the next chapter of this mini-epic... All while making me a little more less congenial! How was that even possible?!?

10/11: Santa Fe- Pondering Camels

"It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" (Matthew 19:24)

Chris and I had a wonderful conversation in Michigan on June 1st about evil, and I offered that perhaps greed and power lust are its fundamental root. Money is inanimate , and so cannot itself be "evil." However, greed is wealth's (Mammon's) engine, and power it's club. The club's damage is NOT limited to its victims; those who swing it, regardless of the rationale and justification, are damaged even if the ego believes otherwise! The Camel Quote has become a favorite. To his credit, Andre was by far the most "aware" of the affluent people I have associated, which isn't saying much. But, with a little reflection, I began to see why the above quotation, attributed to Jesus, is so powerful in its hostility toward wealth. I firmly believe that, on both a micro and macro level, wealth and enlightenment are diametrically opposed. The wealthy can argue and rationalize if they like. This fact will not change.

After I returned home from house-sitting, spurred on by the conversations with Chris in Port Townsend and the writing I had done at Katie's, I decided to actually open my unused Bible to see what the "presented version" of Jesus himself had to say about it. Using the familiar quote above as a starting point in Matthew, I expected a whole lot of ambiguity and interpretable "parable" to be the result based on the typical rhetoric I have hear endlessly emanating from "Christians." What I found literally astounded me. As I've said before, I'm (intentionally) no Biblical scholar, but dammit I CAN read! Just a few of innumerable examples; Jesus was far from "ambiguous" when it came to wealth:

-"Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor... and come and follow me." Matthew19:21

-"No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon." Matthew 6:24

-"For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" Matthew 16:26

-"But woe to you who are rich, for you are receiving your comfort in full." Luke 6:24

And, He seemed to despise hypocrites:

-"Beware of practicing your righteousness before men to be noticed by them; otherwise you have no reward with your Father who is in heaven." Matthew 6:1

-"So when you give to the poor, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be honored by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full." Matthew 6:2

Like Dennis, Andre was inadvertently providing something priceless in his own way: a naked glimpse at the struggle wealth creates for a man on a spiritual quest. At some level, he deserves a degree pity for his financial success. In this culture, it's unheard of to term of wealth as an "anchor," but that's the potential and likely spiritual sacrifice for a life of comfort, security, and power. It usually comes standard with a closed, sheltered existence barren of true experience & struggle needed for genuine empathy, compassion, and concern for others, as demonstrated perfectly by the rationalistic "debt is a state of mind" comment.

I believe I just answered my own earlier question regarding why it requires the sudden impending threat of mortality for many, particularly the affluent, to begin to take an interest in something beyond a materialism. It's simple: Why the hell would they? When a man has few "real" friends, is surrounded by those driven by self-interest, and an ego addicted to Mammon's Power, why would he desire to reflect inward? Without critical thought or conversation, and when surrounded by "yes men," it's easy to convince ourselves of whatever narrative we choose to author! It's a self-delusion that reminds me of Huxley's Soma from Brave New World; an opiate that seems to numb the human core and intellect in all of us. We've all been programmed to function on a consumerist, egoistic plane and they have succeeded, perhaps without having been taught the intellectual and emotional tools to truly empathize. It's a hard-sell to tell an externalized "successful" man to give up his king sized bed in favor of a futon! And, even for those who have internalized due to an inkling that "something's wrong," there's another foreboding quote strewn throughout Matthew: "Many are called. Few are chosen." I don't believe these words are necessarily meant to be taken literally, but it doesn't take much talent for abstraction to see the implication. When you arrive at this point, I believe "The Fates" are an egoistic, escapist mirage. Free will, ego, and intellect come into play when, and long after, you're "called." I believe that your own capacity, and more importantly decision to look internally with clear-eyes and then your own chosen, ensuing actions determine rather or not you're ultimately "chosen," however you choose to define it. I have a very different concepts of "called" and "chosen" than Christians of course, but I've come to highly suspect that the "language" used is irrelevant and inadequate. When you think about the barriers, for the wealthy, the path to self-actualization seems nearly impassible and perhaps even cruelly unfair.

Obviously, I believe Andre is handicapped by his wealth, ego, and the bubble in which he lives. From the beginning of my stay at Andre's, I was keenly aware of the lair I inhabited, despite the fact I was greatly enjoying the benefits! Periodically, I would find myself observing how Andre interacted with people, and more importantly vice versa, looking for behavioral patterns. Several times, I witnessed people seemingly afraid to deal with him honestly, obviously afraid to anger him. Toward the end of our stay, there was even adolescent talk claiming someone close was "just using him." And, of course Andre's protective of what he has; everyone wants it! This could lead a person to believe they are in a position to judge another's "worthiness," or to believe they know what's "best" for another. I can understand that. However, wealth alone does not grant one the power to superficially judge with generalizations, and when judgment and power turn to control- as they ultimately must- that person is likely doomed.

I also believe Andre, even with his noble and (I believe) genuine ideas, still has an epic battle ahead of him. In the end, he's inadvertently stacked powerful cards against himself and, even though it's sacrilege in the "Age of Hope," I'm sadly pessimistic. If he's committed to succeeding, and I believe he is, he has in my opinion failed to see the obvious: That despite his best rhetoric and intentions, his identity is still completely anchored to his ego & assets. His ability to "work magic" is, literally, his ability to write a check. His ability to "be of maximum benefit" is tethered to his ability to write a check AND pointedly wrapped tightly within his ego. I find it ironic that rather than envy him, I PITY Andre. Not because of the spider bite or his uncertain future, but because I ask myself this: "If all of Andre's money were to vaporize tomorrow, who would he be? Who would he see himself as if he were unable to work Monetary Magic? How many "friends" would still be there?" Of course, this is a single perspective, and I'm sure that this last question will result in some other folks I met in Portland wondering, "Is that asshole talking about ME?!?!?" Please relax, and realize I am not interested in issuing petty judgment. But, I would counter that it may be useful to ask yourself, "Am I one of the circling vultures?"

In the event you've assumed this is arm-chair psychological conjecture, I know a bit about a ravaged "external identity." When the radio show ended in 2002, and I was no longer Todd "Thompson," most of my "friends" vanished like a fart in the wind leaving me sitting naked asking, "Why?" The answer was clear: the relationships I had built were mostly based on the vocational "radio persona" I had fabricated, and I was now forced to ask, "Now that I'm not Todd Thompson, who the fuck am I?" If you have to ask, then have trouble coming up with answers, you have a problem! The ones who remained unchanged remain treasured friends, and I can count them on one hand. These are not easy questions to ask, are even harder to answer, and impossible to investigate without a commitment to truth; that Inner Dialogue Andre has admitted so much trouble with. Andre, despite his wonderful complexities, is currently struggling as a confused personification of his wealth, with little clue of how to actually escape it. How to grow, free from the anchor.

The very first quote above also ties nicely to the question of Chris McCandless and what I believe was his Poverty Field Trip. Friar Chris has often taken exception to my McCandless critique because he closely identifies with McCandless's background, and has struggled with my indictment, often replying, "What's a rich kid supposed to do? Just give up?" My verbal answer had always been that I honestly don't know. Do what you can, and hope for the best. Subconsciously, however, there's always been a faint smell of hypocrisy to even asking that question, as though wealth is somehow entwined into your DNA and inseparable from your existence. I've always suspected that the philosophical answer was simplistic, and as stated above, would sound something like "Get the fuck rid of it or quit touting your fraudulent Pauper Papers."

Of course that IS simplistic, and very few of us are prepared to sell all of our worldly possessions and sacrifice the security they provide! And, I honestly see nothing wrong with openly half-assing it, or openly doing nothing! To my knowledge, none of us are Saints nor aspiring to be. However, my blood pressure tends to rise when people are portrayed, or prop themselves as something they're not. Someone please tell Mr. Penn, Mr. Krakour, and the rest of the McCandless Cultists that Chris McCandless burned his money knowing he was a phone call away from a "line of credit" if he ever decided to bless his parents with his forgiveness. Rather he used it or not is immaterial; he knew it was there. To me, the shallow image of renouncing wealth, while never intending to do so, is condescending and nicely articulated by:

-"Whenever you fast, do not put on a gloomy face as the hypocrites do, for they neglect their appearance so that they will be noticed by men when they are fasting. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full." Matthew 6:16

Again, it takes abstract thought to comprehend that "gloomy face" can mean many different things, from countenance down to clothing and hygiene. If you're cleverly clinging the literal interpretation and employing it's companion rationalization, that could indicate something!

More often than not, I don't believe people use rationalization on a conscious level; I don't think they sit in their chairs at night creating clever, fictitious narratives to intentionally act as a comfortable, mental teet. I believe it's subconscious because, as The Sage pointed out later, it's challenging for nearly everyone to confront difficult things residing within themselves. That observation cut to the heart of my internal, "I feel like a dick" discomfort. I know full well how difficult it is, and I am not playing the role of the Encouraging Sympathetic Voice because from my experience I believe it's counterproductive. This simple train-of-thought demanded an investigation as to my evolving purpose; one long overdue.

It's answer was quite simple, and again, reinforced surprisingly from the Bible in quite an arrogant way! Somewhere, I seem to have successfully purged the need for personal approval, and no longer consider myself the protagonist in this presentation, therefore rather you "like" the messenger doesn't matter. I'm not trying to sell myself because, I don't matter much... and that's good! Besides, and here's the arrogant part, as I read thru Matthew, it became quite obvious that Jesus himself was sort of a... dick! His tone was that of a man obviously annoyed with the metaphorical blindness of people, intolerant of their rationale and hypocrisies, and I could completely identify with the man who entered the temple and violently overthrew the moneychangers table. Contrary to many descriptions of the "Price of Peace," tact and politeness seemed of little consequence to Him, even saying, "Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword." Perhaps that "sword" is to cut off the fat of doctrine, dogma, and self-deception. And, if blunt honesty is good enough for the Jeebus... it's good enough for me!

Overall, the impression that I got from my little mini-excursion into a small part of the Bible was that, if true, you Christians are in a whole lotta trouble when your Messiah returns! I repeatedly (and to Shalain's chagrin) asked, "Have Christians even read this fucking thing? Or, do they simply rely on someone else to tell them what's inside AND allow them to manipulate what it means? Ambiguity MY ASS!" I found very little resemblance between what little I managed to read, and the acts of Jesus Inc. I have 100 scripture examples I could share, but I'll spare you and close by simply saying that I've come to believe that the greatest blasphemy on Earth is that perpetrated by organized religion and what it and its followers have done to the concept of God. I would stand tall and say that to Yahweh's face, quite certain that he's agree.

How about you?

9/18: Port Townsend- "And... Scene"

Chris started his new temp- job at the coffee shop Friday, while Daniel and Wendy were both gone for the day. So, I was left alone with the computer and spent most of the day editing pictures, then scouring Craigslist's Rideshare, Amtrak, and Greyhound for destination ideas/ prices. Shalain let me know that the house-sitting job was a go, and with that I officially decided to return home since the heel still smarted, and there was no place beckoning anyhow.

This didn't sit well with me. I felt like I was quitting too soon after so much had happened in just the previous month. What was waiting for me along the Pacific Coast? What was I sacrificing? I thought back to similar times, such as San Francisco in June of '08 and Pocatello the following month where I had been tempted to cut things short. In both instances, I had reflected back and been VERY glad that I didn't. This was a bit different. Both of these examples had to do with money. This time, I was mentally tired and more significantly, preoccupied with something else. It reminded me a great deal of Omaha in July where I was overwhelmed and needed time to decompress. The house-sitting gig had come along at the perfect time to nudge me over decision's edge, and I began to wonder, aloud, if the heel pain was a sign of some kind, or even possibly psychosomatic! Every indicator pointed to a return to New Mexico, despite my ego's protests!

All that was left was, "When am I leaving?" An 11pm bus left Seattle that night and I had ample time to make it, but this would essentially return me to Billings and thru Denver... again! I couldn't stomach another bus ride from Denver to Santa Fe. If I was spending two days on a bus, I wanted to see something fresh. I found a different, albeit longer route that would take me back to Portland for a bit, then thru Sacramento, LA, all the way to San Diego before finally turning east via the extreme southern parts of Arizona and New Mexico. This appealed much more since I had never been to San Diego, yet this schedule departed at 1pm Saturday, meaning I would need to stay another night. However, this seemed to work. Wendie, Daniel, and Chris planned to cross the sound into Seattle the next morning, too. I could camp out another night, ride to the ferry with them early in the morning, then Chris and I could spend an hour or two futzing around Seattle until I checked in.

I detested the idea of spending my birthday on the bus, but I don't usually celebrate my birthday. Setting a goal to spend it on the coast would have been more of the exception than NOT celebrating it! I relayed my intentions to Shalain, but decided to wait until I was aboard the ferry to Seattle to purchase the ticket. The plan seemed fail-safe, but depended on pretty precise timing as far as catching ferries and such. There was a bit of urgency however. I needed to meet with the home owners Monday night after my bus arrived... on Monday afternoon. Missing this 1pm bus would cause a world of complications.

When Chris returned home, he had a fine idea. Since I was staying one last night then heading home, and since we had begun the western swing of this trip by stopping at a random drive-in in upstate New York, he thought it would be fitting to go see a Friday night double feature at the drive-in near Port Townsend. "Inglorious Basterds" and "District 9" were featured and it would also give Wendie and Daniel a night without Chris & Todd, which they would no-doubt appreciate. Late in the afternoon, we were off to Subway for my dinner, and on the way to the drive-in for some entertainment... but not without some Chris-induced comedy first.

He had originally suggested that we actually walk to the drive-in, saying it was just a few miles away but not remembering exactly where. In character, I didn't see the point of walking when we could use Wendie's car... but that's just Chris being Chris. However, his ambiguity about the drive-in's location set off warning bells in my head. I have been here before; Magellan Chris is NOT! I've learned to pay special attention when Chris is navigating... anywhere... and he hates that I often point this out. Thankfully, it took longer at Subway than expected causing us to run late and making the car our only viable option. I say thankfully, because not only did Chris fail to remember exactly how to get there, it was 10-15 miles down the road! Of course, being the great friend that I am, I took great joy in this and even more at the sign once we arrived that read, "No Walk- Ins!" I'm really glad I craved that 12" Subway tuna sub, and... may I suggest a battery powered GPS as Christopher Magellan's Christmas gift?

The movies were great, particularly "Inglorious Basterds," and the setting created very nice bookends for our westward odyssey that began just after Memorial Day in Springfield, Mass. This naturally put the two of us in a reflective mood. During intermission and on the ride home, I began to appreciate a bit more the grand scope of all that has happened since then. We got to reminiscing on how we had expected our "plans" (ha!) to look in February and particularly March. And, how little our expectations resembled the actual events! However, from a general overview we had done exactly what we said we would do. The East Coast, then Michigan to Seattle. My Adventure Ego didn't like the fact that I had taken 5-weeks off, and bused from Omaha to Santa Fe, but later on I realized that Leslie had dropped me off pretty much ON the Missouri River, in Sioux Falls, SD: nearly due north and on the same river as Omaha. I'm OK with that.

Through reminiscing over this 2009 Adventure, Chris and I began to look forward. We had both had a distinct "blind spot" after Seattle, and now after Seattle, it was as uncertain than ever! Portland's draw had proved accurate, but now there was... nothing. Nothing drawing me anywhere. I had done everything I had concretely set out to do. Even if I were to continue now, what would I be chasing? Accomplishment. If I continued on, I could tell myself and those reading the blog, "I slept on both oceans this year!" That's pure ego. On a subconscious level, I knew this and only later did I accept it fully. As we lie in the bivies chatting, I was still haunted by that persistent, nagging voice saying, "You can do more!" when in reality it was again time to sit down & shut the hell up... just as it had been in July.

9/17: Port Townsend- Limitations

Part of what separates the wise man from the fool is recognizing ones own limitations. Mine were now fast approaching, and it took some work to acknowledge the gorilla in the... bivy?

Chris was up with the sun on Thursday to meet with the owner of the coffee shop, so once I woke up I went in to say hello to Daniel, got a shower, then waited for him to return. Chris was quite pleased to announce that he had indeed been hired, and would in fact start to train the next morning. We had a neat, continuing discussion on how money seems to appear just when each of us need it and the biblical concept of Mammon: Rather than hoarding your money USE IT, let it flow through you, and trust it will make its way back when it's needed. This anti-capitalist philosophy retook its position front & center, and would be put into practice sooner than expected. I also found it curious and amusing that the Bible repeatedly came up!

From Wendie's it was back to town where Chris would continue canvassing. The heel was no better (as soon as I put the boot on it yelped), and since I was way behind on the updates I planted myself on a picnic table downtown next to the water and began a massive update on the blog. The weather and people watching was great, and before I knew it I had spent 5-hours regurgitating Portland into Pocketmail. It was the perfect way to spend the afternoon.

When Chris was finished, we stopped at one of the sporting goods stores where he replaced the hat he had lost in Denver, we played dress-up with display wigs (almost buying one!), then stopped off at the library for Internet before slowly making our way back to Wendie's. Chatting with Chris, the ideas from Portland were coming to life and this pesky topic of Mammon resonated loudly in my mind. I relied on Chris to explain the concept, having never wanted anything to do with the Bible, and it fit perfectly with what both he and I had personally experienced separately. Every time we each have needed an influx of cash, it's showed up- one way or another. Sometimes through our own efforts, and sometimes out of a clear blue sky.

Mammon dovetailed perfectly with other concepts I had come up with: Tuning in to and listening to the that Voice, taking care to sit down & shut up now and then remembering that you're not the center of the Universe, and trusting that things will work out, yet not simply the way you WANT them to, but the way they're supposed to. A fine philosophy indeed, and one that has yet to disappoint in any way. My frustration and impatience always springs from craving control, thus the foundation, to me, is to be aware of and try to reign in my ego in an effort (EFFORT I say!) to take care that I'm seeking truth rather than simple self-serving glory.

"Clever children in school base their egos on being clever and on being right all the time. They dislike group work because they cannot then show the rest of the class where the good idea originated. When the ego and thinking are treated as the same thing, there is a reluctance to be wrong and a need to defend a point if view rather than explore the situation." -Edgar de Bono

I think I can speak for Chris (I'm sure he'll correct me if I'm wrong) when I say that all the signs to date point in the same direction: there's something guiding us and when we make seemingly ignorant decisions, it's as though we are gently chastised by being cut off from the Flow and left sitting for a time alone to ponder what we did wrong! It's like a Spirituality for Dummies class... and we're the Dummies!

This concept is not without its reward system. I myself attribute meeting people like Dennis, Andre, Leslie, Ciel, Pat and others to tuning into and listening to this. Chris and I experienced this in tandem in Cape May, NJ in April, and to attribute everything to mindless coincidence, from where I sit after a year and a half, is infantile. As recently as that morning in The Dalles, I had plugged in and was immediately "rewarded" by that seemingly orchestrated chain-of-events that dropped me directly into Andre's Master Craft. Had I not listened to my instincts in any of the handful of mini-scenarios through the course of that day, I don't meet Andre. Of course, I would never know that and you can drive yourself batshit contemplating such things, but thankfully I've seen enough to quit the logic-driven contemplation. It's fun to retrospectively reflect and pointless to stew over obvious mistakes, even though I do. This Universe of ours has shown a way of compensating my frequent ignorance!

Chris and I also discussed something I found rather daunting. My lessons and insights borne from this odyssey have progressively intensified. 2009 has made 2008 seem like child's play. As Chris and I looked back over the past 5-months, I was dumbfounded in realizing that this winter and 2010 likely will make '09 seem rudimentary as well! How in the hell is that even possible?!? But, after thinking about it the Classroom Analogy fits. I could have never dealt with meeting and dealing with my estranged family in 2008. I couldn't have dealt properly with Dennis' demise, and the toolbox surely would have been a screwdriver short if I had dealt with Andre last year! '08 prepared me for '09. If 2009 is preparing me for 2010, I'm excited, a bit intimidated... and addicted! It's a good thing for one to be excited about ones future.

Back at the house, it was decision time. Wendie was making her final trip for the week to Port Angeles on Friday morning, and I needed to decide rather to leave with her, and if not... what? Typically, indecision roared. My birthday was now two days away, and it seemed like it would be great to spend it camped on the Pacific Ocean. Yet, I also knew it was likely foolish to put myself in an uncertain situation being already partially hobbled! "If a man can't recognize his own limitations... he deserves what he gets!" Remember, Todd? I've preached it 100 times; it was my own voice ringing in my head.

I began exploring other possibilities such as busing or training back to Portland, or on to Redding CA, but neither sat well after; not two-days earlier rejecting similar ideas. I was grasping for straws, but during an extended conversation with Shalain I learned that there was a possibility I could earn money house-sitting for a week back in Santa Fe, but she couldn't confirm that until the next day. In theory, this would more than cover the cost of the bus ticket, and provide me the needed decompression time to process everything.

Yes, returning to New Mexico appealed to me, even though I didn't WANT it to. I was mentally exhausted and knew that I had as of yet barely scratched the surface of a Rainier- sized Mental Mt. Andre. The more I thought about and discussed these new Andre-influenced ideas, rather than coming to conclusions, I would just find new valleys to descend into and explore. I had a mouthful, and it seemed obvious that I needed to chew, swallow, and digest it!

In the end, I concluded that it was best to let Shalain find out what she could, and base Friday's decision on that. There would be no Port Angeles, and if I got to the Pacific it would be elsewhere...

Portland: Navigating the Rubicon

On the Banks

We all experience moments where we labor over decisions, first weighing, then contemplating and ultimately (hopefully) accepting their consequences: "Crossing the Rubicon" is one of my favorite cliches. Wikipedia defines it as a point of no return and continues, "It refers to Caesar's 49 BC crossing of the river, which was considered an act of war."

As the weekend of September 11th concluded, I was stumbling blindly forward; rushing toward the torrent of my own rampaging Rubicon. From the beginning, events such as the Saturday night's conversation, the preceding conflict with Cody, and particularly Sunday afternoon- and what to write about them- have weighed heavily on me. I ping-ponged on the decision to post in-depth details, having conversations with Chris, The Sage, Shalain, and others exploring how I should proceed, with varying opinions. The Sage suggested that I treat Andre as I had Dennis: let things play out before committing & attempting to dissect what I had seen and the conclusions. Always the voice of reason, that Sage! He also was there with the concept of reductionism, which would indeed factor later on and while it's new to me, had a great effect; though not the one I believe he intended! Chris was characteristically non-committal in his commentary, but also characteristically able to add some powerful, unbiased insights of his own; some that I would have completely missed.

But in the end, it was my decision, and it was difficult. This created a dramatic, intense test of what until now was usually a relatively calm, straightforward commitment to honesty, as well as surprisingly forcing me to reevaluate and redefine such basic ideas, such as what it means to be a "friend." This lengthy process and then starting over, second guessing my decision to post an honest perspective, has forced a reliving of this weekend and brought to the surface an idea that once had been primary, but had faded to the dormant recesses of my mind: Singularity. Singularity is a powerful idea that applied to both Andre and I at the same time, and exposed a duality of my own. One that rang the doorbell in the middle of the night, and in stormed the metaphorical unemployed-uncle! He was going to sleep on the couch and raid my mind's fridge for a week!

In the end, I obviously decided to be as honest as I could. In the interest of fairness however, it also created another rather daunting task: What you're about to read. Rather than simply lie out The Sunday Judgment, I also sense a responsibility to explain where these conclusions had come from. We generally react to things through the prism of experience, and I am no different. These conclusions, while I believe accurate, were ultimately borne from my own frustration and, as it usually the case, reflect my own experience. An experience that was exceedingly difficult to fight through. I desperately hoped to spare Andre at least some of the difficulties, although I know better. Funny, it never occurred to me to express that!

The Headwaters

As mentioned, I've not yet written on much of the lead-up to this Odyssey. While attempting to avoid redundancy, I must point out that I have a history of being hard on myself; even unfair. Prior to my departure in 2008, I had made several attempts to set off, with little success. A few years ago, I read a biography on Jean-Jacques Rousseau, which introduced me to an unfettered commitment to truth, and the phrase Vitam Impendere Vero, which loosely translated means "Truth before everything, even at the cost of death." About the same time, I began reading Gandhi An Autobiography: The Story of My Experiments with Truth. Inside was a particular, simple anecdote that shook me to my core. Gandhi openly discussed and verbally bull whipped himself for having lustful thoughts- towards his own WIFE! (I have no interest in mentally masturbating over the ethics of marital sex, and if you do, don't expect me to hand you the Kleenex.) Obviously, I'm no Gandhi, but that set an astounding example for me on being honest with one's self. None would have challenged him for hounding after his own wife, seeing nothing wrong with it. However, he did and he would allow himself NO rationalization. He himself believed he was not living up to the ideals he believed- the standards he set for himself- and went to work on it. Truth under all circumstances and at all costs. This lightning bolt added to the burgeoning realization that, in order to live in accordance with one's ideals and beliefs, well... One must know what they are! AND, by extension, must know WHO they themselves are. Nosce Te Ipsum: Know Thyself. Te Nosce. So simple in concept. Complex in fact.

Nosce Te Ipsum is inscribed upon the Oracle at Delphi, and is the foundation of the many ancient of philosophy, from Socrates forward: "An unexamined life is not worth living." As described on Philosophy Pages, "[Socrates] sought genuine knowledge rather than mere victory over an opponent, Socrates employed the same logical tricks developed by the Sophists to ... the pursuit of truth. Thus, his willingness to call everything into question and his determination to accept nothing less than an adequate account of the nature of things make him the first clear exponent of critical philosophy."

I strongly identified with this, and thus began the process of Andre's elusive Inner Dialogue: not merely accepting an internal "victory" through accepting any and all rationalization, but a willingness to identify and annihilate rationalization when possible and accept (then welcome) the personal defeats of falsehood through a bloody, relentless pursuit of truth... internally first. It didn't take long to see that I was regularly employed in the Business of Bullshit, having spent decades bullshitting myself. And, because no one likes being called on their bullshit, the dismantling of this rotted structure was a difficult task! This personal excavation continues; it will never be finished.

I've heard the analogy that first you must "first tear down to rebuild." However, you still need to live somewhere! I equate it as simultaneously building on another piece a ground adjacent to the old. While building the new house on a solid foundation, you must periodically return to the old to find what's salvageable. Despite its difficulty, it is the most rewarding thing I've done... and likely will ever do. I began to see who I had been, who I was, and who I felt I should be. It's was A.A.'s "personal inventory" on steroids, yet with an unforgiving commitment to truth standing as overseer.

What I discovered included a troubling realization that I was always the "victim." This was naturally thinking that stemmed from my childhood rejection by my absentee-father. I told myself that everything was the "fault of the fates." Instead of being an idiot for driving drunk, it was, "Why did there have to be a cop there!" I could go on for hours, but I'll spare you. Besides, there's more effective places to shred myself! I was battling a constant, crippling fear and cowardice. There is a distinction. Fear is of the unknown, while I believe cowardice is an cowering to the known. There was a clear disconnect between knowing the path, and a willingness to walk it. I was also subject to an insipid laziness, unwilling to put forth the effort to prepare for and investigate the path's terrain: preferring to mentally masturbate. In short, I seemingly refused to act in accordance with these seemingly-high minded ideals that were manifesting themselves on paper.

Allow me to be perfectly clear because it's important in understanding my reactions: I brutalized myself over these shortcomings, yet I would NEVER let someone treat anyone I cared about the way I treated myself. But, I rightfully allowed myself to set definitions to the tunes of these barbaric introspective questions, and savage- yet accurate- answers. I had to FEEL the truth, and I HATED what I was discovering once these self imposed, definitions began to set in. It was only then, through a disgust for the raw reality, that I was able to move forward; to take baby steps to act in accordance with who I was. Only then was I able to move away from the comfort of my concocted, rationalized, yet comfortable Castle of Bullshit, and begin to live in accordance with who I was. Take steps toward singularity.

Make no mistake, this sort of commitment is not always comfortable to share space with. People can sometimes misconstrue my questions as a combative attitude, and sometimes they are. Having periodic blinders in place, I have a tendency to put the acquisition of facts before politely asking for them! I take great care in presenting facts, but not such care in protecting feelings. Perhaps this is a shortcoming that, if altered would afford me more friends, but I quite honestly don't need the types of "friendships" it would preserve. In addition, if you're going to invite me into this realm, I will come fully prepared. This, I believe, is what happened with Andre and his "question." When he applied it to me, I proceeded to dismantle and "reverse engineer" it, finding what I believe are glaring inconsistencies. I guess I could have just... said that!

Singularity

Singularity and duality are inseparable. Most of us live a split existence, bouncing between one facet of ourselves and another. Many probably having more than two! Duality is a concept at the center of most religions. Christians love to get all dramatic with it, and term it "Good v. Evil," or externalize it by saying "The Devil made me do it!" Ahh, the victim! Horseshit. "The Devil" has no external control; like God, he's you. You are at the helm of your own life, and thus responsible. I prefer the eastern notions on the battle waged within; between the ego/ materialism and the true inner nature of ourselves, as laid out in The Bhagavad Gita. Singularity is the ability to reside within that true, pure nature of ourselves; to both know the path and walk it. The melding of the mental, spiritual, and physical. Beliefs and intentions as one with thought and action. Let's again be clear, no one not named Jesus, Buddha, or Muhammad achieves this as a permanent state. We're constantly experiencing duality; bouncing back and forth in varying degrees. Unfortunately some never leave the lair of ego and materialism... yet wonder why they feel empty, even with that toy chest full! This state of singularity, when you're in tune with who you are and your place in the world, is what I believe Andre interprets as Presence. I also believe it is the state where synchronized events are most frequent because your mind is tuned into the proper frequency.

I distinctly noticed this duality in Andre during my stay, because it was more pronounced in extremes than nearly ANYONE I had ever seen! Compare the differences between Saturday, and Sunday & Monday. I would playfully offer in jest that he seemed to be borderline schizophrenic; from one extremist to the other! Singularity is something that I have spent a lot of time privately exploring, yet it has curiously been dormant for quite a long time. When it rocketed back into my mind, while sleeping, it seemed that what I had interpreted as an obsession may indeed be indications of steps in the right direction.

I've noticed that it is increasingly difficult for me to separate myself from these thoughts; much to the chagrin of many whose company I keep! If I'm asked to separate, I become disconnected and distant. I've also noticed that it has begun to greatly influence whose company I choose to keep. If it's difficult to keep Present, (infer what you like out of this) I choose to sacrifice the person, while Chris, for example will often intentionally disconnect himself from the moment, then try to bring them along. I believe he does that out of egoistic need to save the world:A Christ-complex! He'll argue that... for minutes at least! I believe it's arrogance to think one is capable of influencing all; they have to be open to it first. We've agreed to disagree on this point! That dovetails nicely to...

Ego!

One of the most confounding topics, and rest assured I wont be quoting Freud! My counselor-friend Brian believes I have given Freud a bad rap, and I confess I refuse to read him. I have gotten enough useful mileage out of The Gita's definition and description, and after watching The Century of the Self and learning how Freudian techniques were used to employ public relations (propaganda) as social engineering, I have no use for him. The ego is, again, something we never escape. It can invisibly influence every action we take and decision we make. The ego is visible in every act of self-interest: Whenever we make something "about us." I mention this because wile slapping a harsh indictment on Andre, in fact the very indecision of whether or not to post it was initially based in my own ego! Self-interest. A significant concern in the days leading to the write up were not whether I was fair, but in the end if I was "burning a bridge." "If I tell the truth, will I still be able to work with him? Will I see the story play out? What about the future of my teeth!"

Based on the emails I've received, many of you were asking the same questions so backhandedly understand ego quite well! To my credit, I recognized the self-interest aspect and, in the end, realized that this clearly was NOT about me at all. It was in fact about Andre and his path; about the battle he was fighting with duality. The simple mental fidgeting was proof that the relationship had been reciprocal in the sense that the observations and further realizations, and what I would learn about myself, were as valuable to me as his "$100,000 Lesson." I came to understand that it was my obligation to be honest with and about him, in an effort to show how the ego, duality, and most importantly self-honesty, were more important than noble words and at the core of intention. This duality is something I know a lot about, and let me AGAIN be VERY clear- Andre HAS noble intentions, however, they are hampered by habitual thinking, and a failure to recognize the ego and its influence.

With that said, I saw this situation as a clear choice: Withhold what I've learned out of a simple "what if?" self-interest, or sacrifice that fear at the Alter of the Ego, and offer an honest, blunt perspective as a gift, albeit a bitter one, for him to do with what he chooses. My hope is that it helps carry Andre down his path; his goal is infinitely more important than my teeth! I have long wished someone had risked that kind of honesty with me years ago, thus the decision should have been easy. It wasn't.

The Friendship Paradox

"...the nice thing about Todd is that all he wants is honesty and he's happy regardless of the situation when he gets the straight answer." -Friar Chris

Congratulations, Chris. You've been quoted. I chose to snatch it because it's one of the best, fairest observations of me that I've seen. I also try to operate from the above framework when dealing with my friends, and I consider Andre a friend. I've made it clear that I believe that his intentions are themselves noble, yet they may have been slightly corrupted by something he may not be able to recognize: Ego. In addition I should add that even if so, he is leaps and bounds ahead of where the vast majority of people reside. With that pretext, I have been called an ingrate for "accepting his hospitality, letting him spend all that money, then "turning on him" 3-weeks later." Some readers, (neither Andre nor his friends) believe that I'm trying to crush his "vision and dreams" all together because he "turned my counter-proposal down." I may, perhaps, recommend a reading comprehension course when I finish. But, for the moment I will offer the benefit of the doubt and suggest that these folks are lost in what was previously an unknown conventionality, at least to me. One creating an interesting question!

I have asked a number of times, "Are you more of a friend when you offer hard honesty, or soft encouragement?" To my astonishment, I've discovered that most people believe it's either a "morally relative" question, or feel it's their role to be of unquestioning support, EVEN IF THEY REALIZE SOMETHINGS WRONG! Considering my commitment to "blunt truth," I vehemently reject this cowardly relativism out of hand. It would seem that most people, when they choose support over honesty, are choosing to avoid a risk to themselves: a risk of losing their own friendship, rather than having a primary concern for that friend. I understand perfectly well that there are instances when perhaps silence is preferential, and I exercised that choice myself at Andre's home. However, when silence is not an option, and one must choose between honesty and ambiguity, the choice seems clear unless you're operating out of self-interest; when you're more concerned what that "friend" will think, and how they will react- that's ego driven self-interest

To compound things Andre is, as are most wealthy people, literally surrounded by self-interested people. I was not going to add myself to that list. I believe, in this case, my self-interest needed to be eliminated in favor of his interest, and my integrity. With no expectations or deceit, Andre could then operate from a position of control (whence he thrives!) by knowing the facts as they pertain to me and again, could then apply my experience and insights however he sees fit. I know full well that this likely severed our relationship, but that was known before I hit the "Publish" buttons. At least, with this expansion, I will have done everything I could do, and who knows? Maybe the seeds planted will bear fruit.

Karma As Your Bitch?

I've always held a particular disdain for the book/ movie The Secret. It seems to imply that you can manipulate the Law of Attraction to accumulate wealth, fame, and booty; as though by thinking "happy thoughts" you can have an unfettered ego And spiritual enrichment at the same time. "YOU TOO can make Karma and fate your own personal wench!" If you practice this, I suspect that Karma, or whatever you choose to call it, is on to you.

The shallow hypocrisy of "Charity as a Tool" is the same mentality as that behind The Secret, and is at the heart of my disgust for "missionary" work, and loaded charity of any kind. It's egoistic in nature, and it's my belief that you would be further ahead with "God" by admitting that you either care little for helping people, are primarily concerned with making yourself feel necessary, or kissing His Holy Ass; essentially saying: "Look what I did God, now lemme to the front of the line!" Is your "God" a short-bus kind of Special, or are you perhaps kidding yourself? If that's the case, what about a "vengeful God," and Hell? Well, I would recommend thinking long and hard about who or what you're trying to manipulate.

I've mentioned this several times, but at the heart of my beliefs are that, above words, coerced-loaded action, or any simplistic doctrine and dogma, true intent: what's in a man's heart is the core of his existence. From there, it's an easy step to then hitch the wagon of the aforementioned absolute introspection to this ox of an idea. If accepted, it must therefore be a "mandatory quest" to eliminate external static and know exactly who you are, regardless of religious or spiritual beliefs. If you submit to any sort of higher power, yet practice the art of trying to fool "God" or Karma with "trade-offs"... well, let me know how that works out for you! If I were God, (despite possible impressions, I don't believe) I would stamp your coach ticket to Hell with the words: "Who the fuck did you you think you're dealing with, gnat?" Blasphemous words? Hardly. Thinking you can outwit God, Karma, or the Universe may be the ultimate ego trip, and is itself the silent height of blasphemous arrogance...

9/13: Portland- The Vanity Plate

I mentioned in the opening of my September 12th miniseries that periods of time seem to have their own life-cycle. Sunday the 13th was the first scene of the concluding sequence. In a matter of an hour, I would begin to see how this intense stay would likely end. Then later would come an intense introduction to a new, and powerful idea: Reductionism. (Introduced by Steve, henceforth referred to as The Sage) This contrast would also awaken a temporarily dormant distrust of affluence, and provide a classic example of dueling identities. Which would prevail? Good stuff!

Almost immediately, I noticed that intense energy of the previous night had vanished, been replaced by something far less appealing, and realized that my suggestion of acting as Andre's little personal assistant was unlikely, at best. The Andre I had seen on the couch just a few hours earlier was replaced by the business man. It was still a possibility, but there was no way at this point to know anything, and I was about to be personally introduced to Andre's duality, and his personal battle.

My first order of business was to make good on my pledge to reiterate a heartfelt apology to Cody, which I did, trying my best to make clear I felt responsible, and bad, about our little spat. He was gracious, and shortly after Andre was once again talking about my dental work, saying he would surely call the dentist at home later in the day and if he couldn't reach him, definitely first thing Monday. Monday?? Wait! Cody and I were under the impression that the Vancouver sailing trip would begin today! Andre was obviously plotting revisions in "plans" (HA!), and not sharing the changes with us. We were evidently the dinghy tied to Andre's metaphorical freighter: Where and when he went, we were unquestionably towed. This was to be expected and I am getting used to this sort of life, but it was frustrating Cody! He had begun arranging for his friend to meet us in Vancouver, since the sailboat slept seven. But, this uncertainty left this friend potentially hung out to dry. We each gently prodded Andre several times, and his response was an ambiguous suggestion that "first you create the 'miracle,' (teeth) then add the details later." It appeared that Andre was prepared to postpone the sailing trip temporarily to accommodate my as-yet confirmed dental appointment, and from that moment until the moment we left, the two of us would be left in a confusing state of limbo.

I could not have cared less. As far as I knew, my schedule was open at least thru at least 2012, but hearing Andre talk about the dental procedure again continued bothering me for several reasons. First:the logistics. He had done this for people before, and the procedure came with a seven day recovery process included standard and free of charge! Inserting Titanium sockets is major surgery, and involves drilling directly into the jawbone. Not something to take lightly! And, by the way Andre, where exactly was I going to convalesce? In my bivy in the middle of the Rose Garden? That I could answer myself: No. This was not a "detail" I would "fill in later." That was of course significant, but a much larger sliver was infecting my mind: while still grateful for the offer, I had finally identified the source of my hesitation.

If you'll recall, when Andre first suggested this I was thrilled. Yet his well-meaning explanation, that it would "increase my confidence" immensely and as a result "doors would fly open" never set well. Let me ask you a question, dear reader: Do I seem to suffer from Confidence Deficiency Syndrome? Hopefully you've not answered with an emphatic, "HELL NO! You're an arrogant ass!" but, I do have a healthy confidence where it's important: I believe in myself, my ideas, what I'm doing, and where I'm being taken. What Andre referred to was a restoration of "vanity." Let's call it by it's proper name. "Words ARE important" after all. Like my father (henceforth referred to as Ward... as in Cleaver), not being raised with him was a blessing in disguise, having to suddenly then constantly deal with my appearance (and how it got that way) ultimately reaped significant long-term benefits. It helped me to steer inward- by denting the exterior. Yes, it HAS sucked, and yes... I would love to have them fixed... but do I NEED that? Is replacing a constant reminder that "strength is internal" with an expensive, titanium vanity plate how he "could be of maximum benefit to me?" Of course not. If it were, I would be in more trouble than I care to admit: It would indicate an excessive concern for how people react to me. Sound like anyone we all know? Dennis, perhaps? No, this was most certainly NOT how Andre could be of "maximum benefit" to me. And, I decided to tell him so. Let's see where his heart really was. Was it really to be of "maximum benefit," or to languish in the role of a philanthropic "God" performing whichever arbitrary acts that made him feel the best, rather than being of the greatest benefit? That reeked of agenda-induced charity, Pastor Snake's "arrangement," in this case where the agenda was ego.

Andre had, unwittingly I believe, set an extremely high bar for himself with his own dear "words." Always ferreting out authenticity, it was time for me to cross reference his ego's account with his mouth's as-yet uncleared checks. As I had heard all weekend, words, are most definitely important. Yet, so are the actions behind words. However, for me- the intentions behind actions sit at the very top. People can be coerced or shamed into action, and acts executed under duress are utterly meaningless. You learn a person by offering a clear choice, then allowing them to act unimpeded as they see fit. It was time to parse Andre's words on the Plane of Reality, then reconcile them with his ensuing action, thereby giving him the opportunity to put some meat on the verbal bone. Would this skeleton too remain bare?

Focusing on these motives, it's important to note that I suddenly became acutely aware of the biblical verse that says it's easier for a camel to pass thru the head of a needle than for a rich man to get into Heaven, and also my repeatedly preached, "YOU are the easiest one for you to fool." I love my metaphors, so let's turn on the faucet, and push some water into that pipe. He liked the idea the night before, right?

"Debt is a State of Mind"

Our lengthy conversation of the early morning had ignited my mind. Even in my sleep I was connecting dots and exploring alternatives & possibilities. Shortly after Andre had woken up, and we had gone through his morning medication ritual, I decided to pounce. Let's see if he was really committed to being of maximum benefit, or if, as I was beginning to suspect, it was more accurate to change his question to a statement: "This is I how I wish to be of benefit to you." Words are impor... Hell, you get the point by now, right?

I had come up with a few alternatives to the new Vanity Plate; ones that would be infinitely more "beneficial" in the long run. The one I had settled on was bold, but Andre preached "going for it all" in business; Why not here? My suggestion was to get an estimate for the dental/ vanity procedure, then take that amount and secretly deposit it into Shalain's account. When she discovered it, then regained consciousness and picked herself off the floor, it would be made clear that it was there solely for her to eliminate debt. I elaborated to Andre that, despite sometimes great difficulty, she has stood behind me through this long odyssey, from radio to present day, and for the most part shown great faith in what I was doing. Without that support, I would not be here; she deserves as much credit as I. Unfortunately, she has only lived these incredible experiences and powerful moments of synchronicity/ serendipity like you: second-hand. I thought, rightfully so, that she deserved to have something unbelievable, and tangible, happen to HER. Something that was directly connected to my odyssey... and her support of it. And most importantly, Shalain has been struggling to begin a similar journey of her own. Albeit one that does NOT entail sleeping in the weeds! She too wants to begin expanding her realm and perspective of existence. Without what she perceives as shackles of debt, I explained, Shalain could focus fully on her "voice" thereby helping she and I to move closer to a similar playing field, rather than having the game played solely on my turf. I thought long and hard about this, and without question this would be of "maximum benefit" in perpetuity, and cost no more, if not less than a superficial Vanity Plate; a piece of titanium for me to smile with.

His response? A simplistic, "Debt is a state of mind."

"Really, Andre?" I said to myself, steaming. "Yet, vanity driven self-consciousness isn't?"

Water, meet crack. Shit! That didn't take long. What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my day?

He didn't explicitly say so, but his face betrayed that he detested the idea, and actually appeared offended! Presumably at the perceived rejection of the "new smile." He then ditched discussion by claiming it would "mean more if we eliminated it ourselves," as if it were something for which we'd proudly receive The Economic Participation Achievement Award, complete with commemorative plaque! Again, Andre was either lost in rhetoric, or had sadly misinterpreted me. It had to be rhetoric. In comparative context to the dental work, I could NOT imagine he actually believed that! Not being obtuse, he had to see the glaring disconnect in, nearly in the same breath, claiming that it would be the "best thing in the world" to fix what drunken rage was responsible for?

No friends, this was not an issue of a simple disconnect at all. This was about ego. It later occurred to me that on some level he was practicing a curious "secondary" empathy, yet he had actually personalized the Vanity Plate; made it his own (identified with it) because he was projecting his own insecurities onto me. Recall, he had admitted he "fucking hated" that the medications had caused a significant weight gain. Fixing my teeth could be a way of treating in me what he couldn't in himself: an ego tormented by self-consciousness and vanity. This... was about him, and how helping me could be of maximum benefit to himself. When I countered with something (anything) different, of course his ego was "offended," I had exposed it, and left it standing in the corner alone.

With that, came a flurry of connections. I had been absolutely correct in deducing that his "maximum benefit" question was a gross semantic misrepresentation and rather than asking, he was in fact saying ("words are important!"), "I have decided that this is how helping you will be of maximum benefit to me." Again, the thoughts and intentions behind actions are much more important than the precluding chest pounding proclamations. At least they should be. Particularly to a person professing a commitment to truth and spiritual growth, all the while advertising intentions to do "the most good while he's here." Andre set this bar of expectation all by himself by dramatically touting his intentions. However, it now seemed a more authentic narrative would be one involving some elk, a Santa suit, and mercifully losing the pretension of espousing himself a "Worker of Magic." And, to finally quit asking his now exposed, egoistic, misleading question. The Sage's "Reductionist" idea would have been helpful here, but as of yet I had no idea what it was!

There were now fresh questions, but what bothered me most was what I now perceived to be possibly disingenuous claims indirectly mocking things I strongly believe in. I took into account that he probably had never considered ANY of these difficult concepts, due to an admitted inability to ask critical questions of himself. I also knew honesty was in order. Yet, I was in his home and challenging him in front of Cody, whom Andre assumed viewed him as his heroic benefactor, would unleash his colossal ego's vicious attack dogs! That, and several other red-flags were flying high. One of which needs some explanation.

Not often, but anger is on that rare occasion a gift. I even seem to remember a story about Jesus rampaging through a temple once upon a time! Picture me at the money changer's table for a moment as I express (rant? no! I prefer "expressively explain!") the root of a long-held, deep distrust for "The Moneyed." As mentioned before, I've seen its abuse and am quite sensitive to the use of wealth as power, and as a way to toy with people. But it's a useless battle. Wealth IS power- if you submit to it. And, make no mistake, that's at least partially what I am discussing here. Disguised, misleading charity is the act of asserting the ego through a manner of control: power. The source and explanation of the disguise is irrelevant, and the trick to combating it is a simple defiance; not allowing yourself to become submissive to that brand of subjugation, ever. Leave that ego in the corner, regardless of who it belongs to.

My mother's ex-husband served as my indoctrination into how money and lust for that control can rot people from within; their greed transforming them into little more than control-obsessive trolls, who in the end are left wondering why no one admires them the way they themselves do! Our story's protagonist is a particularly grotesque gargoyle who carries the last name many of you in Michigan remember, and is the founder of a very successful tool fabrication business in Litchfield. He's made boatloads of money, and he is the most miserable prick, in both senses of "miserable & prick" I've ever known. I mention him because, when my mother filed for divorce, he refused to pay child support despite his success, in an effort to "force her to come back." I have a vivid memory, as a boy of 6 or 7, of watching as he grabbed my mother by the throat and choked her in a blind rage; a rage borne from an inability to accept that his wealth could not "buy what he really wanted." That- will leave an impression.

He and my mother have a daughter who was partially handicapped in an auto accident as a child, my half-sister, whom I must reiterate, he NEVER helped to support or raise. Jane's neurological damage is degenerative, so she can now barely walk, has been stranded for hours in her own tub, just recently had eye surgery, and, due to a swindler of an ex-husband, had her accident settlement money "legally" stolen from her. Unable to afford legal assistance or even bankruptcy, she lives in Fresno with her two grown children, who themselves cannot find work due to the "economic crisis." The three of them inhabit a house they can't maintain, she's physically unable to work, pay the utilities, or even drive. Like my friend Kim, Jane was, unbelievably, denied disability so she was forced (yes, forced) to use credit cards just to survive- for a matter of years. She is now over $100,000 in debt. My mother, who draws minuscule social security, has been using HER OWN food assistance card in Michigan to mail food to Jane in California!

Allow me to switch gears for just a moment. Remember that, "Debt is a state of mind" comment? Forgive me, Andre, if nearly two weeks later I finally show my sensitivity and invite you, now that you're visiting MY home, to take that particular simplistic, arrogant, aristocratic comment and lodge it squarely, firmly and deeply up your ass. That remark could be construed to have been spoken by someone who, like my beloved Charity-Adventure Travelers, is on a Philanthropic Field Trip to the Ghetto: arbitrarily handing out $20 bills then returning to the gated community, singing their own praises of "life-changing charity" to the other bubble-buddies... and Master Craft passengers. (Yes, I heard all of that. How's that song go? Oh oh, ohhh... Voices Carry?) I've wondered, do any of you posses a legitimate concept of, or concern for, the Plebeian reality beyond anecdotes about your amusing, random encounters with those of us "down here" who are lucky enough to be randomly graced with your presence and influence? Because it was off the cuff and obviously the repeated, talking-point variety of cliche', that single comment possibly said more in a split second than the hours of rhetoric over the days before. MUCH more on this coming... Stay tuned.

I'm such a tease.

As for Jane's father? He is, not surprisingly, estranged from both of his daughters, and despite Jane's destitution he has willed his millions... all of it... to Hillsdale College. Yeah, they fucking need it! But, while his daughter suffers, maybe he'll get a building named after him. I clearly don't speak to him but as best I can gather, he himself has been significantly incapacitated by a stroke, and although he is explicitly aware of Jane's situation, rather than empathize he has chosen to sit on his hands and let her and his grandchildren teeter on the brink of homelessness and struggle for the most basic of necessities. Apparently, she had refused to "behave" the way he would have liked. But, who knows? Perhaps you can call and ask him then let me know. In fact, I encourage it. Once he's on the line simply say, "You owned JVDW, right? [Yes.] Then, why is your disabled daughter unable to pay her utility bills and having food MAILED to her in Fresno?" Then, in the unlikely event he hasn't hung up, smile with your voice and cheerfully tell him, "Todd says hi, you despicable fuck." Perhaps now you can understand why I want this repugnant, vile creature's putrid name amputated from the rest of mine.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

With that comment, my toggle immediately switched to the "off" position. I had allowed myself to be an active participant in his game for a day, but my water had reliably found its crack. Seeing my sister's face, as well as those of Kim, Pat, Ciel, Jo, Howard, Lonnie, both Wills, my out-of-work friends in Michigan, AND the multitudes of other folks I had talked to on the road, Andre had silently infuriated me with this clueless, blatantly-bourgeois remark. Rather than argue, however, it was just time to disengage, resume my happy role as The Quiet Observer, and just let Andre show who he was. I had laid it all out by making a genuine offer of mutual assistance and showing him the reality of how he could be of "maximum benefit"... if he truly wanted to. Now, it was up to him. I immediately relinquished my participatory membership card, and gleefully hopped back in the side car. There was nothing else to do but reflect, think about Vancouver and beyond... and enjoy myself!

Moving On... Right?

The rest of Sunday was tame, but fun. I had half-expected the reaction I had gotten from Andre, albeit without the snide remark. My reaction to his resembled way Chris and I had handled our recurring tensions out east, and surprised me a bit. After the initial, intense anger quickly dispersed, I just moved on. We all went to work preparing for the now-delayed trip to Vancouver; cleaning the boat, sleeping quarters, the kitchen etc.; whatever Andre wanted help with. Later, the three of us went out for groceries and pizza and Andre took us on a very cool sight-seeing trip around Portland as I laughed at the fact that this was the first I had actually seen of Portland's interior since floating into his place Thursday night! Included on the Andre Itinerary was Suicide Bridge which is located in the affluent "Hills" area. Andre told of how former tycoons had made good use of this bridge, "former" being the key word. It was here that they had messily relieved us of their presence after losing everything. Later came a swing through the famous Rose Garden, a visit to REI for Cody's gear cleaner, then back to the house to continue to prepare for Monday's supposed departure.

For his part, Cody was on a roller coaster and impatient to get moving. He asked repeatedly when Andre planned on leaving, receiving ambiguous replies... if any at all. It didn't seem to matter much to Andre, nor did the fact that it did matter to Cody matter to Andre. Why should it, right? I noticed the telltale signs of being ready to go myself. I was getting a bit more irritable, less tolerant of redundancy, and Andre's spell was beginning to wane on both Cody and I. Andre's "presence" reminders become annoying, especially being tired and spending most of the day pondering the events of earlier and the previous evening. I started to seriously rethink Vancouver all together after learning that our pacifist neighbors to the north are Draconian when it comes to admitting DUI offenders! It's an "excludable" offense, and if disclosed admission into Canada is completely at the discretion of the border agent. Andre contacted his lawyer Sunday evening, having similar concerns, and we would hope to hear more from him the next day. Andre and Cody got into a rather deep discussion about Cody's family so, being tired anyhow, I returned the favor Cody had done for me the night before and retired shortly before 1am giving them some privacy. At that point, the "plan" (HA!) for driving to Vancouver had been pushed back to Monday evening. We'll see...