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?

9/22-10/9: Santa Fe- "Unpacking"

After a quiet day at home on Tuesday, the house-sitting gig started Wednesday amid wild anticipation of spending the entire week on the computer or buried in my notebooks writing for hours on end. I knew damn well that I had much to process, and as always upon initially returning home, felt highly motivated to get it done immediately in supposed marathon sessions. But, as usual, it didn't quite happen that way. Rather than a narrative, the writing promptly displayed a tendency to create more questions; deeper layers than I had originally assumed were there. That's always a good sign for me personally, but not always pleasant. Especially when many of the hardest new questions revolve around... me.

As I started to get near the heart of Andre's story, I noticed an intense feeling of personal wariness, especially about that Sunday, 9/13. The apprehension's intensity was quite rare, but I understood that his was no ordinary story and I was forced by its content to take a microscopic look at both my own insights and, more painfully, who I have become over the last year and where I was going. I had expected the simple moral question about how much detail to share, but the demand for self-analysis was something that was unexpectedly bitch-slapping me at the same time! If I was going to offer acute criticism of others, I was going to be providing it to myself... like it or not. A handy, oft-inconvenient tool I've acquired somewhere.

As I started to puke into the computer and make connections to both past events and those that followed in Port Townsend, an interesting contrast developed; something that would ultimately lay the very foundation for the immediate future. Despite the persistent questions, the words flowed; again a good sign. Nothing was forced or contrived and after questioning, challenging, and examining my insights it was obvious that they were solid- if not pleasant. They themselves then began spawning other multi-layered ideas. Yet, the potentially toxic, uncomfortable nature of these observations set off warning signals through my entire psyche. Was this just my ego going nuts? I began seeking out other opinions and through conversations with Shalain, Chris and The Sage, my extensive vocabulary again went on display as I described these intense, nagging emotions as "feeling like a dick," even though I felt like I was dead-on, even after psychologically beating the Hell out of myself and beginning the process of asking myself "who the hell I thought I was" writing these things. It was then that I came to realize that I'd had the sense that "I" wasn't writing these things. It was Stream of Consciousness- despite of myself! More than once, I (again) thought back to Randleman, and Pastor Snake... which REALLY set off ego-alarms! Seeing this was encouraging of course, but created more turmoil than it relieved.

The Sage suggested something that I had considered a few times: keeping two journals. One: the run-of-the-mill, fluffy "travel journal" variety. Something easier to comprehend, accept, and escape within (my description). The Second: one presumably only written that would contain my actual thoughts... therefore not causing any immediate discomfort to the protagonist. I seriously considered it... but not for long, as I slowly came to realize that the self-doubt wasn't internally based. It was the "critic's" voice; the self- censor voicing the imagined criticism of others. Furthermore, as Shalain astutely and repeatedly pointed out, to "edit for comfort" would be selling out; doing the very thing that I swore not to do. Reading these passages is voluntary after all, and the notion of producing shallow "bathroom fodder," as Chris puts it, is repugnant. No, this is by its nature occasionally unpleasant and very difficult. It's the "hard" that makes it worthwhile, even though it's sometimes unflattering, even to myself. I knew coming in that it would periodically be difficult, but I HAVE made myself accountable by having the courage to present it for consumption. It seems cowardly (and suspicious) to consider yourself a man-of-purpose then hide in your journal; the foundation of critical thought is to test ideas by allowing them to stand up to scrutiny! To cower would be something I wouldn't be able to tolerate, and that I even considered it made me question my own motives and presented the entrance to yet another powerful investigation: the difference between being "clever" and being right, which can lead to the egoistic practice of protecting a point-of-view through rationalization. Later in October, this directly led to my humble, uncomfortable Don Quixote revelation (stay tuned... if you dare!). Good, organic stuff!

With the end of the house-sitting gig came the end of September. As October began and I returned home, my "internal motives" question persisted but I decided to push forward and allow people to react however they chose. Thinking back over the summer, I reflected on how I had likely severed the pathetic "relationship" with my own father and two of my sisters... through simple honesty. Considering that The Hens had chosen to "de-friended" me on Facebook, choosing their traditional method of conflict resolution, avoidance, it suddenly seemed absurd to offer this blatantly self-interest-driven courtesy to Andre; something I had denied much more significant people!

There was much more to come as I contemplated my time with Andre in Portland. As I finally wrote up The Vanity Plate, Now What?, and Navigating the Rubicon, more agitation and an accompanying flood of ideas that was the byproduct. Surprisingly, much if centered around, of all things, The Bible...

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...

6/6- 6/10: Home Again

"Avoiding Hillsdale like Herpes" was an understatement. I had tried several times with limited success to "escape" in the years after high school, only to inevitably find myself right back where I started with just a few new anecdotes. I knew I would have to get out eventually, naturally assuming that it was Hillsdale that made me miserable. Typical victimist thinking, but it served the purpose of motivating me to get a bit creative in my "escape" methods and helped me to stumble on a vocation: radio. In 1994 I went off to broadcasting school in Detroit, and after yet another return, found myself 'freed' for good in early 1997 after my radio career finally got going. Since then, the visits have been rare with the exception of 2000, when among other things I decided to try playing softball with old friends- until getting my night show ended that.

Returning has always been like watching the videotape of a night of heavy drinking: cringing repeatedly! Everywhere I turned, it seemed that there were reminders of the levels of douchebaggery I had reached while there. I still had a few friends around, but as we steadily lost contact, I tried to resign myself to the notion that I would ultimately be one of those who just vanished, except for the few people who knew the station I was on and the stage name I used. My mother had never left so I would make a few trips every year, but it was more like a tactical strike with a specific target. I was always mindful not to stray "off course" and of getting out as quickly as I could! This has been the case for the past nine- years, and the visits had dwindled to maybe once a year since I moved out of Michigan in 2004.

Another particularly interesting side- note, and one that I'm reluctant to mention, is that I have had recurring dreams about Hillsdale, involving friends, forgotten acquaintances, my house, softball, and odd, seemingly random places for years. Places that had made no sense, like an unfamiliar bar on a lake somewhere down US-12 toward US-127. And, these dreams were so common, like 4-6 times a week at times, that they became downright annoying. "Why the hell am I always dreaming about that place!!" I mentioned it to my girlfriend a couple years ago, but none of it made any sense. I had never considered returning to the area for any real period of time until I connected with Shelly in February of this year. That too had some odd, weird circumstances. More on that at another time, but as Chris and I entered Michigan for the first time, the first of these little premonitions, or deja vu, began making themselves apparent.

Following the week with Brian, I tried to keep low expectations for this visit. I had been in touch with my friend Bob for about a week, and while he seemed just as I remembered, I was wondering how we'd interact these days. And, I was curious to get Chris' take on all of this. He had very little background on where I had come from, and it wasn't lost on me that there may be a vast, unexplained gap between the person he knows, and the guy that my old friends remember. I too was quite interested in gaining an outsider perspective and especially to see my own reaction to the new, familiar atmosphere. My emotional reactions are always a fucking case- study in the unexpected!

Sean dropped us off, snapped some pictures, and as soon as Bob & I said hi it was clear that little had changed with him. Bob's like an old pair of comfortable boots, for lack of a more flattering description! He's a bighearted, generous, friendly, loyal guy. Perhaps one of the two most loyal friends I have. I was quite grateful to be there after having to navigate the odd- dynamics of the previous week. There was no analysis going on. No judgment. No diagnosis. I was Todd. He was Bob. That was Chris. We were friends. End of story. I laughed as we instantly resumed the long- dormant roles of tormenting each other. After ten minutes, it was like I had never left. I remember thinking, "Friends like this goofy fucker are a rarity." This was a good omen to what was about to become an almost unbearably intense few weeks.

These omens stuck around for all of Saturday night as Bob, Chris and I decided to try to find a bar where I could freak some people out. The problem was, that while there were several when I had lived here, there were now next to NONE anywhere within a safe driving distance, let alone walking. We decided on the near- empty bowling alley in Hillsdale to watch the Red Wings, then Bob suggested a bar in Somerset; a 30- minute drive away. This turned out to be the bar by the lake that I had repeatedly dreamed of! I about shit as he turned in, as you can imagine. At least there were people here, although none that I recognized. As we sat there drinking beer, it slowly began to sink in that I was indeed seeing my old hometown from the position of the familiar outsider.

I had also been quickly discovering how things have changed over the last 12+ years. This "crisis" they like to talk about now has been gutting rural Michigan's manufacturing base for years. It's this base that supports most of the people I knew, and I was shocked to discover that Bob was one of the rare people that still HAD a job, and wasn't either laid off or let go. They can quote unemployment figures all day long, but my unofficial unemployment "research" would come back with numbers a hell of a lot higher than "12 -15%" or whatever the latest "figures" are. To me it seems closer to 50%, and higher if you consider "underemployed." I suspect that many have said to hell with filing unemployment, and taken work under the table. One of the first things I noticed about Hillsdale itself is how quiet, and empty it is. Especially the main road thru town. I remember it being a whole lot busier than that.

People here are tough, blue collar types who won't whine, and don't want you to whine for them. They generally work hard, they play hard, and they live their lives raising their kids the best they can. The only thing they generally want is a fair opportunity to do just that, and to offer their kids a better future. Like people anywhere I suppose, except that this "opportunity" has been pulled from their still warm hands. I wont bother with the politics, because the politics just don't fucking matter. It was no better under Bush than it is now. If you think this "crisis" is something new, come pay a visit. It's only "new" and publicized because it's hit the economic elites, and the suburbs a bit. I only offer this brief commentary out of a realization (get used to that term now!) that I respect these people. I seek authenticity. This is raw and authentic. I was astounded to find myself thinking that! It occurred after some thought that in order to appreciate fully the blunt reality, perhaps you need to run in the circles of mentally masturbating "intellectuals" who fail to leave the circles of their safe, cushy, modern- day Salons.

The reminder of the week was crystallizing, and far from a new one. The idea of true wisdom as opposed to its illusion. Education without practical and visceral experience is as useless as being a trivia expert, unless of course your goal is making money and collecting shit. Hell, poker players do that! There needs to be personal context in which to frame and apply that million- dollar degree, or we're nothing more than tools, or worse yet parrots squawking someone else's dictation. The ability to recite isolated facts does not make one wise. The ability to apply someone else's formula doesn't make one wise. Wisdom is turning data to knowledge then applying unique experience to that knowledge. No wonder so few people are truly wise. They seem to think they've gotten there early through hubris and buying the illusion that disconnected facts and formulae mean something significant. I'll save the rest of that rant for later, but this was the essence of my first four days in Hillsdale. Making friends with my roots, and perhaps the roads I've needed to travel to come to that realization.

Sunday was spent having a quick visit with an old classmate, Steve, who had driven down from Detroit to see Bob, Chris and I. He had sent me the brass alcohol- stove and turned me on to Eckart Tolle last fall. We had spent hours philosophizing online over the winter, and I was looking forward to the sure mental- fireworks if Steve, Chris, and I got together. Unfortunately, he had little time to stay, but he had crafted an idea for us to ride with him to Minneapolis when he went on business later in the month. We figured 12- hours in a rental car would get us down the road AND provide lots of time to chat. It was a great idea, but the suits didn't like the math, insisting he fly instead. The following weekend I received another two packages from him, INCLUDING a collapsible fishing pole! I wish we would have been better friends earlier.

Another interesting revelation was that Hillsdale of all places was the friendliest town we had encountered to date. As we were often sitting outside the gas station with our backpacks drinking coffee, or waiting for a ride, people would oftentimes stop by to say hello. One young man even handed us $10 when he left. Michigan people are NOT known for their outgoing, friendly nature, but Hillsdale is doing its part to counteract that. Go figure!

I went to see my mother of course, and went to Bob's softball game on Tuesday the 9th, where I had arranged to meet two more of my best friends from back in the day, Dave and Eddie. I hadn't seen Dave since 2000, Ed since 2004. These are two friendships that go way back, and have many cementing experiences binding them. Some involving bail, bloody frying pans, and damaged public parks. Ed has ultimately proven to be another friend, like Bob, who is always there, as- is, regardless of where you've been or what you've done. He's gone through a lot of changes over the years, and Chris and I both noted that he and I may have more in common now than before. It was also a smack in the face to see his kids! I hadn't seen them since the mid- 90's, and they're all grown now. My friends and I, including Dave, used to throw his oldest boy Denton around on his bed when he was a baby. I bought him a beer. I almost cried about the fact that I could. Dave and his wife Bonnie offered us their floor Tuesday night, and it was nice chatting with them after so many years and marveling at how their kids have grown. Their kids aren't much younger than Bonnie was when we first met her. There were other familiar faces around, and I thoroughly enjoyed the reunion atmosphere!

Bob picked us up again Wednesday morning, this time to try our hand at fishing. We caught nothing. We didn't even see a fish in the St. Joe. The afternoon was spent lounging beneath a tree at the bowling alley before meeting up with Ed for a nice chat then engaging one of the owners I had known for decades in an unexpected political/ social conversation.

We had decided to camp on my mother's property right up the road Wednesday night, and on the way, Chris and I began discussing the changing ideas on our method and mindset. We had essentially been stationary for a month and a half- since arriving at his mother's in New York City May 1, and it had become clear that there was nothing wrong with that. Ideas began to develop about possibly returning to Denver or Santa Fe to begin exploring other venues for our photographs then heading toward Idaho to meet my other sister, Lynn.

When Bob picked us up after dropping his son off at school Thursday morning, it was time to switch gears and prepare to meet Lynette's kids, Ben and Brad, at their grandmother's house. I was really looking forward to this, and wondered how many people had met their nephews-- before meeting their sister! Good stuff!

Winter Quarters: Recap

I must have “intended” to update this thing a hundred times over the past couple of months, but for various reasons (read: rationalization) I have not. I have been both busy and quite hermetic at the same time. I’ve come to terms with being back in Santa Fe by completely isolating myself from it! It’s amusing that I have yet to build ANY kind of a social circle, preferring instead to sit at home and work, raising money for 2009. It has become obvious that whatever attraction I once had to this pretentious little town is dead. At first, I thought that perhaps it was just me wanting to separate myself completely from everything, but when we went back to Michigan, and then on my trip to Denver last week, I realized that I am just as social as ever- I just have no interest in socializing with anyone HERE… or even meeting anyone! Not sure what to make of that, but I have inclinations!

Last I updated was shortly before the election of what appears from the media to be Abraham Delano Obama. I sat down at the computer the next day and, caught up in the hype, began to write how “proud” I was that we had elected a black man as President. However, something didn’t feel right about it, so I scrapped it. I then watched the news coverage over the next few days and realized how they’ve proclaimed this man Savior of the American Race. Pure demagoguery. I then realized that the liberals are now just as bad as the conservatives were; scurrying about with their proverbial chests thrown out acting as though they were solely responsible for an evolutionary shift in humanity! Yes, I’m experiencing a further Liberal Backlash, and am finding myself taking a ‘right turn’ in my thinking. The Socialists disguised as simple “Progressives” have sprung forth from the woodwork, and I’m afraid that my liberal friends are going to have a rude awakening when the electoral center grows weary of what’s been unleashed: moral elitism with a dash of white liberal guilt and wielding an imaginary "mandate." I haven’t bothered with TV in over a month. It's disgusting that you as a nation are patting yourselves on the back, and claiming “accomplishment” for simply electing a black man. It seems a bit like congratulating a redneck for not beating the wife or your teenager because he is no longer stealing car stereos! Congratulations America, you’ve almost achieved something resembling equality; forget that it should be EXPECTED! The best man obviously won, and I wish him well. But let’s consider the alternative for a moment, shall we? McCain/ Palin? And. if we were such a diverse Nirvana, the fact that Obama is black would mean nothing, right? Get over your self- righteousness and let’s see how the man governs before we anoint him anything but President… he IS a politician after all. “Change?” PROVE IT. Then I’ll hop on this already full bandwagon.

On a lighter note, I have had sort of a “Peter Gibbons” experience for fans of “Office Space.” My little work- from- home data entry gig has turned into what appears to be a decent paying full- time job. I was brutally honest with them when they hired me, telling them that I wasn’t looking for anything long term because I was setting out again sooner than later. Apparently, they appreciated the honesty and the fact that I told them directly that I was not interested in anything that involved “ladder climbing”, because last week they essentially doubled my salary while still letting me work from home… as much or as little as I choose. It was perfectly timed because it appears that the next phase is taking shape, and I’ll be able to easily prepare for it.

Facebook has provided some rather creepy reunions. I’ve touched base with many people from my WRKR radio days in Kalamazoo, and even people from high school that I NEVER thought I’d chat with again. One has been quite interesting and intellectually rewarding. Steve was a guy I never really associated with, but we’ve had some similar experiences and have developed parallel views on things.

Another nice surprise was seeing my friend Himanshu, who’s from Mumbai, in BATTLE CREEK of all fucking places. He was there on business while we were home, and had a chance to have dinner with him. I hadn’t seen him since we met thru Couchsurfing in 2006 when he stayed the weekend with us in Denver. I picked his brain on India a bit… we’ll see! His blog is in my bloglist under ‘My Wanderings’… check it out. Excellent writer and photographer.

Other than work, and the trip back to Michigan, the rest of the winter has been quiet. I’ve discovered the wonders of ebay (ha!), and have been slowly re- gearing when I can. I made a quick trip to Denver last week to bask in $1.50 gas, and to try to get things a bit more solidified with Chris. The original idea was to head toward Mexico this month, but we have decided to go bigger… MUCH bigger… and as a result are taking the rest of the winter to prepare. I’m being ambiguous on purpose. Our current construct deserves its own space.

Christmas is now just a few days away, and 2009 will be here in just over a week. Of course, this is the time of year when you naturally reflect on the year that was. When I think of how the year began, and as it progressed the things I’ve done and seen; the people I’ve met… 2008 was very good to me. I’ve reconnected with old friends, met new ones, and had some experiences that to me are priceless. I managed to live a little, and set a foundation for 2009 and beyond.What's fun is thinking where I was a year ago!

Finally, I believe that this particular blog may be ending, although not 100% sure. Rather than the complete book, this is merely a chapter. I suppose that one or two more post would be appropriate, including what Chris and I are plotting. From there, I’ll let you know ...