sleeping bag packed. I awoke Saturday morning at the usual time, 8:30, but decided I was going to take advantage of the perfect spot and catch up on some sleep. I attributed much of Friday’s ‘pissiness’ to fatigue, so I went back to sleep in peace until about 11:00. It was great, and I would need it.It took awhile for me to mobilize after sleeping so long, but after some cold instant coffee… a disgusting Todd- staple… I packed up and mentally prepared myself for a day likely spent sitting on my butt at the same gas station unable to get out of Asheboro. The on- ramp was no good because of North Carolina’s aversion to shoulders.
I climbed out of the palmettos, or whatever they were, and walked up the
ramp toward the gas station, to the wonderment of Saturday’s traffic. I’ve never grown tired of the looks of amazement when people see me walking places usually reserved for cars. I bought some real coffee, sat down where the driveway and road met; but far enough back so as not to attract unwanted attention from Rosco, Cooter or the rest of Boss Hogg’s Band of Merry Morons.
I put on headphones; there I sat for most of the day. There was an occasional trip inside for coffee, water, and cigarettes, but the day was playing out as expected. It was a hot one too, low 90’s with the sun blazing, but
somewhere along the way I had come to enjoy sitting in the sun. Thankfully, I had brought my old (and stupid- looking) Army Surplus Desert Storm wide- brim hat, so my baldhead was not scorching. The thought began to occur to me that I should consider alternate routes out of Asheboro toward the coast. I had time to study the atlas, and began to tinker with the idea of going SOUTH on US-220/ I-74. The Outer Banks had long- lost its charm, and honestly, I could have cared less about WHERE I stuck my damn foot in the damn Atlantic anymore. The problem with going south from Asheboro was that it was going to take me into one of the most rural parts of North Carolina, and since I was feeling like the “Happy Hitcher” that did not
appeal. It was then that I learned that there was ‘old’ US-220, which ran parallel to 220, back into Greensboro. This road would take me directly back into Randleman and toward I-40 if I wanted to walk. Had I sat there much longer, that is exactly what I would have done. Hurricane Fay was something to consider as well. The weather forecasts were all calling for a great deal of rain from ANOTHER system on Monday, and there was talk that Fay could make her slow- moving way into the Carolinas after she made landfall on the Gulf Coast. Insanely perhaps, this motivated me to get there! I still have an unnatural urge to ride out a hurricane and would definitely do a tropical storm in a good tent or a bivy. Just to DO IT! There was still too much uncertainty about the track of the storm, and besides it would be hard to ride out a tropical storm hitting the coast, while I was sitting in ASHEBORO!
As the day went on, I was content either waiting for a ride, or walking. It did not really matter to me and at about 3:30, as I was preparing to hoof it, a red pickup truck pulled up next to me and asked if I was hungry.
Hungry? Really?
Most of the time when people asked if I needed money or food, it depended on the situation as to rather I would accept or not. The ride from Winston- Salem to Greensboro had asked if I needed cash, and I politely turned it down because I really DID NOT need it, and hoped that would help to kill the stereotype in some small way. When Skeeter asked, (I’m not joking this time! That was his ‘name’! Cooter's cousin?) I was on the verge of saying no again, but when he said that there was a barbeque going on and that they would have no problem with me joining, I decided to accept. I needed some real human interaction, and this seemed like a possible gateway to adventure. Besides, it beat talking to the phone booth… that I had named Phil.
As we were leaving, Skeeter looked at me and asked if I was homeless. This took me slightly
aback, because NEVER had anyone asked up to this point. I answered “no” and began to wonder if I smelled like pee, indicating “hippie”. He then gave me a look I will never forget. He was either disappointed, or pissed! He had actually hoped I WAS homeless! It would all make perfect sense in about two minutes. He asked me where I was headed, and when I told him anywhere along the coast, he added that there were a lot of people who had come in from the coast for this ‘cookout’, and that I may be able to find a lift with one of them. I would later learn that to be fabrication, but now this looked promising.Skeeter (I love that name) pulled into a parking lot filled with Harleys. There was also a
stage set up where there was a band playing different versions of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, a dunk- tank, lots of tables, and quite a few people milling around. I had seen the bikes ride by the gas station earlier, and it immediately became very apparent why Skeeter had stopped & why he was so disappointed in the fact that I had a home: It was a church gathering. He was hoping to bring a hungry stray into their flock so they could feed, and then SAVE HIM! That was my initial thought, and that was exactly Skeeter’s intention.
I dropped my pack beneath a tree, and oddly felt like I was doing a remote- broadcast for a radio
station. The moment the station arrives to set up, if there is a crowd gathered they all ogle whoever gets out of the vehicle. THIS was that feeling. Along the way, several of the parishioners went out of their way to introduce themselves and welcome me, asking where I was headed and where I’d come from. When I told them I was from New Mexico, and had gone up the Pacific Coast, hopped a freight train, then hitchhiked from Idaho… they to a man had the look of utter horror!“Man, you’s gots ta be careful out there! There’s some crazies who will kills ya! Weren’t you worried ‘bout that?”
Literally… almost to a man. These were Christians. Obviously VERY devoted to their religion, the word of ‘God’, Jesus… peace on (white) Earth, all that. Yet they were utterly terrified of people. I was mildly surprised to the extent, but not completely. This fed into my views of religion up to this point: that it encourages fear of the unknown thereby instilling a system of control, and perpetuates its own existence by providing conditional charity. Yes kids, a church gathering was an odd place for me to find myself.
I took advantage of the food, and grabbed a few hot dogs, coleslaw, and cokes. It was nice to eat
warm food again as I mingled around trying to get a better gauge on this odd group of people. They seemed nice, polite, and very respectful, thankfully putting to rest my biggest fear: that each of them was going to try to give me their own personal testimony and bring me to Jesus. A few did mention their faith, but none tried to explore my spiritual leanings. Rest assured though, I was waiting for it, and plotting how to handle it if/ when it came up. The characters at this gathering were the most interesting combination of people I have seen at any church. There were reformed bikers, recent parolees, recovering addicts, teenagers, young children, and ordinary people, "like any respectable cult", I said to myself, all interacting normally and talking about Jesus. There was an inordinate amount of “Amen’s” and “Praise God’s”, even for
the setting. Several of them invited me to come to the service Sunday morning, and I said that I just might if I was still (stuck) in town. I also noticed something that astonished me considering the diversity: more blatant racism. Remember Titus & Stephen? Professing their belief in the word of God, but yelling “Take that nigger to jail!” the next moment? There was some of that, though not as extreme, and I immediately realized that EVERYONE here was white. There were no Hispanics, and no blacks despite the high numbers in the area. Several in the congregation had
little trouble and even fewer second thoughts about making their opinions of minorities known. The transparent hypocrisy was almost as staggering as the irony.We had arrived toward the end, so helped them tear down and prepared to leave. I also learned that there was ANOTHER gathering that night, in Randleman, and they invited me to stop by if I got up that way. I had become very interested in this little group, and wanted to see more to learn how they reconciled racism, xenophobia…, with Jesus! In addition, the thought of more free food sounded good, and I still held hope that I would snag a ride somewhere significant.
As I was getting ready to hike off, Pat, the Asheboro pastor, offered me a ride a few miles up 220… on the way back to Greensboro and toward Randleman. I rode in the back of his pickup
, and he dropped me off on Old- 220, which was fine with me. I was probably 7-9 miles further north, closer to Randleman, and OUT of Asheboro. Here, I got the first sales- pitch. He asked me where I “stood with Jesus”. Not wanting Holy War waged in a gas station’s parking lot, yet feeling combative enough to express that I was not a ‘stray sheep’, I told him that we “define things much differently, have different views, but are on the same team.” I could see the wheels of intolerance turning in his eyes. He was not going to be content with anything but “I’ve accepted Jesus as my personal Savior!” I managed to short-circuit the discussion by simply telling him I did not want to discuss theological- philosophy with a pastor, and that I would try to get into Randleman later that evening where we could chat. That did not satisfy him, but what could he do? He gave me directions, offered me money, which I declined, and he was on his way.“What an interesting afternoon!” I thought to myself as I went into the gas stations to ask for water (nope!), and get some cheapo cigarettes. I took a quick spicket/ hose shower to cool off, and get prepared to hike to Randleman. It was about five or 5:30 by now, and while the sun was dropping, it was still in the upper 80’s and the humidity high.
I began walking north on Old 220, thinking I was in another town that I had missed on the map. I was frustrated to learn that I was not even out of Asheboro! I was in NORTH Asheboro! This befuddled me because now I had no bearing as to how far Randleman was. It could be as close as 7 or 8 miles, or as far as 15- 20. It never occurred to me to stop to ask. The walk was exhilarating, although sweaty! I stopped regularly to rest, drink lots of water, and just watch the world around me. “This is SO much better than sitting by the highway!” I thought to myself. I saw a water tower far off in the distance after I had walked a couple of miles, but was not sure if it belonged to Randleman or “N. North Asheboro”! I held my hopes in check until I got close enough to read it an hour or two later. It was indeed Randleman.There was a Dollar Store and Goodwill at the strip mall on the south end of town. I was getting pretty tired after walking probably close to 8 miles, plus my soft- again feet were blistering, so I stopped at Goodwill and occupied their bench contemplating the worthwhile- ness of continuing on to the church. Here I met a couple of very nice women, who took pity on me (and my piss- warm water) with ice water from their employee lounge. They also warned me NOT to drink the water in Randleman; “something about the pipes has been making people sick”. Thank God, they thought to mention that! They said Randleman’s ‘downtown’ was only another mile, so on I went keeping an eye out for places to camp on the way, in case Pat's directions were inaccurate: “Go to the fourth light, and, well… you’ll see where it is.” The fourth light came; I saw where it was. I was also glad to see that “HIS Place” was located near an intersection that took me toward US-220, where there was bound to be an on- ramp for camping.
It was still before 9:00 as I joyfully bounded inside knowing that there was food to be had. I saw several familiar, smiling faces that all warmly welcomed me and asked if I had walked from Asheboro. This group had a different feel than in Asheboro. More families, more couples, more cheerful. Maybe they had partaken in the wine before I had gotten there? Or perhaps it was the fact that I had been walking that put me in better spirits, but I was once again smitten with Randleman.
I chatted for a bit, and then helped myself to hamburgers and fries—inhaling them after walking off the hot dogs miles back. As I was eating, a gentleman who looked to be about 60 came over to chat. His name was Will, and I learned that he is originally from Michigan, had traveled all over the country, and done it the same ways I had. Will had walked and hitchhiked, but said he never had had the nerve to hop a train. He was one of the few people I had met here that were NOT convinced that everyone in the world was a murderer- in- waiting. He was also one of the few that had gotten out there to see it for himself. Coincidence? I suspect not. I wanted to chat more with him, but the pastor had interrupted the band to remind everyone that they were still in church, and that they should probably do some churchin’.
Shit.
I REALLY did not want to sit through this!
I settled in however, out of respect for the fact that they had welcomed me in and given me food… twice. The least I could do was listen to what he had to say; what it was that seemed to bond this unique and diverse group of people together.
I have long since forgotten his name, but the pastor is a rough looking leather- clad biker sort who obviously had not always ‘turned the other cheek’, and looks like he could still “open the can” if needed. A regret I have is that I cannot, for the life of me, remember his name. Therefore, for the sake of the story I hereby dub him “Snake”. Pastor Snake. Nice ring.
Snake has a gift for speaking, and it was immediately apparent that this was NOT going to be the typical snoozer- sermon. He began by criticizing “most Christians”. He chastised them for one of the things that irritate me most: loaded charity. Offering help only out of self- preservation & interest, either as part of the Crusade, or as it pertains to my long- standing annoyance, because it will increase their standing with God! He verbalized it perfectly, bluntly, and to my amazement, with anger! He pointed out that charity borne out of self-interest is NOT charity at all; it is closer to a business arrangement: “I will help you only if it helps me!” This, to me, has always been the height of religious arrogance, hypocrisy, and deceit. Yet, not it’s only example.
Snake’s sermon then went on to topics that astounded my sense of synchronicity. He began to talk about many things that I have been writing about since Ft. Morgan, and the things that Chris and I spent hours discussing in Denver. The “Splinter in the Mind”. Synchronicity. Self- doubt. And, amazingly enough, ignoring the institutionally implanted idea that your life is expected to follow the course laid out for you by society. All of this… in church? Are you kidding?
It occurred to me that the excuse I had given Pat in Asheboro, that “we define things differently”, may have been closer to truth than I had thought. Snake uses the term “Calling” for what I term, from the Bhagavad Gita (and The Moody Blues!) “The Voice”. He seems to believe, as do I, that everyone has this somewhere, but not everyone hears, or listens to it. I have termed that being “tuned in”. The catalyst that enables most of us to “tune in” is that “Splinter in the Mind” that just will not go away, forcing us to listen to that "Voice"; the tuning process.
He also dove into one of my themes: self- doubt. He took an angle on this that, while a bit dogmatic for me, I was able to fit in to my own experience. According to Snake, if you are following a “calling” and are experiencing crippling self- doubt, it is Satan trying to knock you off course. He went on to offer that it is a height of arrogance to believe that your own feelings of doubt in any way supersede God; that if you’re following God’s Calling there is NO way doubt should ever be a factor, because God would never put you on a path you cannot complete. Believing that intellect (logic) and emotion are more accurate or reliable is absurd-- arrogance.
He lost me a bit with the Satan reference. Nevertheless, is it a stretch to make the connection that usually, self- doubt is NOT something that originates within? Is not self- doubt, and by extension fear, usually the voice of society, 'education', indoctrination, a critical parent, teacher, or friends? In my experience? Absolutely. How often can you really trace the nexus of fear and self- doubt back to something that TRULY originates within? Not often if you have the courage to dig deep enough. Careful! That will bake your noodle if you let it.
One point where Snake and I have diverging views, as I do with most theologians and 12- steppers, is the view that people should NOT take responsibility for, and trust, themselves. Snake believes that having faith in yourself is folly, when all you have to trust in is God!
Horseshit.
This thinking blew me out of AA (back in the day) because it prevents people from taking responsibility and control of their own lives. “I’m powerless! Help me!” “If I’m bad it must be Satan! If I’m good it must be God!” Externalizing both the good and bad facets of humanity. Suggesting that people are a puppets, simply here to have our "strings pulled", is a convenient thought to instill if you wish to eliminate critical thought and individuality; collectively stunting intellectual (and spiritual) growth. It also eliminates the idea that each person is capable of not just critical, but original thought AND action; that we are capable of more than just having other people’s ideas & doctrine spray-painted on our mind’s wall. Usually when they mess up and come up with something successfully innovative, "God spoke to him!" If it fails? Must be that pesky Satan again!
I've said this before, but this is another of my major irritants: people assuming they are “educated” or “witty” because they can parrot someone else's material, but vapor locking when they are challenged to explain it or add something of their own... in their OWN words. (hearing me, hippie?)
Externalization forces people’s ideas be formed primarily by the status quo, rather than teaching us to formulate our own as we go. Original ideas that are developed primarily independent of the standard, failed intellectual fare, then seeking out the thinkers, philosophers--- religions--- that suit our developing, distinct appetites. Reading is great. Thinking is better. Combing both (and NOT in that order) to develop your own, original, philosophy is best. Blaze your own trail if you must; that is the essence of individualism.
Yet, in an odd way Snake also challenged each of these parishioners to challenge the status quo as it pertains to social expectations, saying that the Machine will indeed try to stop you from following your “calling”; silence the “voice”. Does this mean that The Institution is Satan? There are examples of this sabotage everywhere; some are institutional, and some a bit more subtle. I call it the “Ministry of Standards & Practices”; I will post that rant here... sometime!
Finally, and most interestingly to me: his thoughts on Synchronicity. He described it as “God sending angels out ahead of you to prepare the path", as long as you are on the prescribed trail. That if you are following your calling, you will not starve. Snake and I – and many others— are in complete agreement on this, and as far as I can tell, the ‘nuts N bolts’, the ‘how’, are like hippies: irrelevant. He takes the same viewpoint on adversity met along this path as many others have: obstacles to be overcome, challenges which strengthen and teach us. For people on my end of the metaphysical spectrum: experiences. Life to be lived. Easy to talk about; hard to practice.
Now, I have no opinion as to the existence of angels! However, I have experienced these Synchronistic things repeatedly; so have Chris and innumerable others. Those who tell logic and the accepted “method” to go to Hell, and just… ‘do it’. We quickly discover that things just ‘happen’, at just the right times and in the just right way, even if we cannot see it immediately. This is Synchronicity. It exists, even if I cannot explain how or why! I can also tell you, and Chris and others will back this up, that you cannot simply lean and rely on it.
You will not become Synchronicity’s Welfare Mother.
You have to meet it half way. AT LEAST half way. If you believe that sitting in your house, waiting for Leonard Cohen’s "Miracle to Come" is going to trigger that enlightenment and put you on that path, take it from me: you will wake up one day wondering how Pink Floyd’s “ten years got behind you”, and asking why “no one told you when to run.” “You missed the starting gun” because YOU are the one who fires it. Or, you will find yourself stuck on the proverbial (or real!) exit ramp … Trust me!
This was a powerful 45-minute chat, and lest ye be worried, thy hast nay been… converted. The sermon left me; despite the volumes written above, MORE convinced and certain about my previous stance on religion. What disturbs me is that I had missed these ideas out of ignorance. Ignorance about the specifics in the Bible; which I have avoided like Herpes. The ideas appeal to me; made me realize that on some level, we ARE ALL speaking the same coded- language.
The final stroke of lightning came shortly after Snake’s sermon when Will and I resumed our conversation. I felt comfortable enough with him to divulge a bit more about my ideas and experience and, of course, he repeated Pat’s question about where I “stood with Jesus”. I told
him the same thing, that we are on the same team but define and view things much differently. To my astonishment, rather than try to argue, or SAVE me, I caught him slyly smiling and nodding his head. “What?!? Are you actually agreeing with me?”, I thought. He knew exactly what I was getting at, and rather than argue for me to ‘get on board’, he continued asking about the trip, and how I had gotten to be in Randleman. He asked about what triggered this in the first place, and when I used the “Splinter in the Mind” term, and quickly encapsulated the last four- years, he looked astounded. He was convinced that I was ‘called’, and if by “called” he meant that I couldn’t help what I was doing, and that I was simply following my own steps toward singularity; mind, body, and ‘soul’, then yes I agreed, I was called. I was NOT however acknowledging anything beyond that. I would offer that I had seen and experienced many things, had compared my experiences with those of others to be sure that I was not nuts (self- doubt), had challenged my own ideas whenever I could, and instead of coming out dejected and beaten, my ideas have only expanded. Found new avenues to travel toward and expand themselves. Like an appreciation for the ideas behind, but disgust for… religion. Then Will pointed out something that stunned me in my ignorance. He just smiled and said, “Todd, do you realize Jesus Christ was NOT religious? He despised organized religion! He called them “fornicators” because they were *whispered* screwing the word of God!” Screwing, manipulating, and bastardizing truth for profit, control, and power. Of course, I did NOT know that. But, that made perfect sense. I would EXPECT Jesus to despise organized religion, or else discount everything he had to say! I am now rather interested in this aspect of Christ. HOW MUCH, and why exactly did he despise organized religion, and why is that so conveniently ignored? Or, should I get out more?! I then remembered my Muslim ride, “Z”, telling me that one of the four lines attributed to Mohammad in the Koran is something akin to “live your life as a traveler”, this piqued my interest: the fact that Christ, Mohammad, and Buddha all have ‘wandering’ as a theme.
Depite this experience, it is obvious that the hypocrisy remains deeply entrenched throughout organized religion. The fact that they use "God" as a weapon to control thought and action while instilling, and then manipulating fear is unavoidable fact. And so are the obscene, tax- free profits SOME of these evangelicals pull in.
“God’s watching you, keeping score!” “Do what we say, or you’re going to HELL! By the way my friends, God spoke to me and told me to provide bigger breasts for Tammey Faye. Pony Up, and let's get bigger boobs for JESUS!”
Further, take a gander at Focus on the Family… or any of these other douchbags that blame Katrina on "gays", or whatever group they hate this week… just so you will vote Republican! Many people are 'taking that 'gander'. Religion is experiencing a Viet Nam- like recruiting crisis, with more and more people choosing "Spiritual But Not Religious" as their denomination. When it comes to a ‘relationship with God’, I like Ramtha’s analogy at the end of “What the Bleep…” (paraphrase): "to think that one little speck in some remote corner, of a remote galaxy, in a remote corner of infinity, could do something that offends God? THAT is the height of human arrogance." I suspect that there are many more, and we probably make up the REAL "silent majority."
Will later offered to let me help him on a roofing job he had coming the next week, and when he discovered that I had radio experience, almost shrieked with joy. He is organizing a “Christian Woodstock” in North Carolina, and needs help getting the stream online. Ultimately, I turned down the job offer, but said I would definitely consider returning to help with the show… and meant it.
I took a picture of some of those still left at “HIS Place”, and as I rode out of town toward US-220 with Will, the intellectual enormity had yet to settle about what I had just experienced. There was intensity to be sure, but the thoughts and ideas were no more than implants that night and Sunday. It would take almost two weeks to get them processed properly, if only partially. (thus the delay!)
Will dropped me at the ramp to 220 again. No, I STILL was not motivated to walk, even after everything that had happened; simply reverting to habit! The night however was NOT quite over. However, since I am over 4,600 words now… you will have to wait for this little scene from “The Dukes of Hazard”. 4,600 is about the length of Obama’s acceptance speech, so kudos if you have made it all the way through; this was quite the intense 6-7 hours!
My hands hurt.
