Post-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, Laina, 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, I believe 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 "tradeoffs"... 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...

8/23/08: Asheboro & Randleman, NC-The Lord's Bikers

The bivy performed like a champ. It was warm, spider-free, and allowed me to leave the sleeping bag packed. I awoke Saturday morning at the usual time of 8:30, but decided I was going to take advantage of the perfect spot and catch up on sleep. I attributed much of Friday’s ‘pissiness’ to fatigue, so stayed in bivy until 11. It was great. 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 steeled 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 back to 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--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 kept picturing Rosco morphing into Sgt. Schultz the night before: *I hear NOTHHHINNNNG!*

I put on the headphones and 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 hot 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 stupid looking army surplus Desert Storm hat so my baldhead was not scorching.

The thought began to occur that I should consider alternate routes out of Asheboro and toward the coast. I had time to study the atlas, and began tinkering with the idea of going SOUTH on US-220/I-74. The Outer Banks had long lost its charm and, honestly, I couldn't have cared less about WHERE I stuck my damn foot in the damn Atlantic anymore! The trouble with rolling south from Asheboro was that it would 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 running parallel to 220 back north to Greensboro. This road would take me directly back into Randleman and toward I-40 if I wanted to walk. Had I sat much longer, that is exactly what I would have done.

Hurricane Fay was something to consider as well. The weather forecasts were for a great deal of rain from yet 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 but it would be hard to ride out a tropical storm hitting the coast sitting in ASHEBORO!

As the day wore 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 whether I would accept. My ride from Winston-Salem to Greensboro asked if I needed cash and I politely turned it down because, well, I really didn't and I hoped that would help to kill the freeloader 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 real human interaction and this seemed like a possible gateway to adventure. Besides, it beat talking to the phone booth. One I'd already 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. "Nope", I said wondering if I smelled like pee. He then gave me a look I will never forget. Either disappointment or anger! He actually hoped I WAS homeless! It would make perfect sense two minutes later. Skeeter asked me where I was headed. When I answered, "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 a crock but, for now, this looked promising.

Skeeter (I love that name) pulled into a parking lot loaded with Harleys. There was a band onstage playing different versions of 'Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door', a dunk tank, lots of tables, and dozens of people milling about. 

It immediately became clear why Skeeter had stopped & why he was so disappointed I had a home: It was a church gathering. He was hoping to bring a hungry stray to the flock so they could feed and then save him!  

I dropped my backpack beneath a tree and, oddly, felt like I was doing a remote broadcast for a radio station. The moment the station arrives, if there is a crowd gathered they fawn over whomever exits the vehicle. 

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, had gone up the Pacific Coast, hopped a freight train, then hitchhiked from Idaho, they, to a man, returned a look of horror!

“Man, you’s gots ta be careful out there! There’s some crazies who will kills ya! Weren’t you worried ‘bout that?” 

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 as 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 be.

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 but my initial fears were legit: that this little Christian biker mob was going to take turns violating me with their engorged personal testimonies in hopes one would inseminate me with 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 and when it came up.

The characters at this gathering made this the most interesting collection of people I have seen at any church. (Not that I've seen all that many.) 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 replied 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 screaming, “take that nigger to jail!”  in the next sentence? There was some of that, though not as extreme, and I slowly realized that everyone there was white. There were no hispanics nor blacks despite the high percentage in the area. Several in the congregation gave no thought to expressing their negative opinions of minorities. The religious hypocrisy was staggering in its irony.

We had arrived toward the end of the BBQ, so I helped tear down and prepared to leave. I then learned that there was another gathering that night, up the road in Randleman, and they invited me to stop in if I got up that way. I had become very interested in this little group. I wanted to see more to learn how they reconciled their racism and xenophobia with Jesus! Plus, the idea of more free food sounded good and I still hoped I would snag a significant ride.

I was getting ready to hike off when Pat, the Asheboro pastor, offered me a ride a ways up 220 toward Randleman. I rode in the back of his pickup until he dropped me off on Old 220, which was fine with me. I was probably 7-9 miles further north, closer to Randleman, and finally out of Asheboro. 

Here, I got the first sales pitch. He asked me where I “stood with Jesus”. Not wanting to engage in a Holy War in a gas station parking lot, yet feeling confidently combative enough to serve notice that I was not a potential ‘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 religious intolerance whirling. He was not going to be content with anything except, “I’ve accepted Jesus as my personal Savior!” I managed to short-circuit the forthcoming sermon by simply saying I did not want to discuss theological philosophy with a pastor, but 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 we parted ways.

“What an interesting afternoon!” I thought as I walked into the gas station to ask for water (nope!) and get some cheapo cigarettes. I took a quick hose shower to cool off and prepared for the hike to Randleman. 

It was now about 5:30 and, while the sun was dropping, it was still in the muggy upper 80’s. I started north down Old 220 thinking I was in another town I had missed on the map. I was frustrated to learn that I was not even out of Asheboro! This was NORTH Asheboro! This befuddled me because now I had no gauge as to how far it was to Randleman. It could be as close as seven or as far as 15-20 miles. 

No. It never occurred to me to just stop to ask. 

The walk was sweatily exhilarating! 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 in the distance after walking a couple of miles but was not sure if it belonged to Randleman or “Way North Asheboro”! I held my hopes in check until getting close enough to read it an hour or two later: it was indeed Randleman.

There was a Dollar Store and Goodwill at a strip mall on the south end of town. I was getting pretty tired after walking close to 8-miles, plus my soft feet were blistering, so I stopped at Goodwill and occupied their bench contemplating the worthwhileness 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 the employee lounge. They also warned me not to drink the water in Randleman; “something about the pipes has been making people sick”. They said Randleman’s ‘downtown’ was only another mile, so on I went keeping an eye out for places to camp 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 by an intersection of a road leading to US-220 where there was bound to be an on-ramp for camping.

"HIS Place"

It was still before 9 as I joyfully bounded inside knowing there was food to be had. I saw several familiar, smiling faces all warmly welcoming me and asking if I had walked from Asheboro. 

This group had a different feel than Asheboro's. More families. More couples. More cheerful. Fewer bikers. 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. I'll let you decide, but regardless: I was smitten with Randleman. I mingled for a bit before helping myself to hamburgers and fries—inhaling them after walking off the hot dogs several miles back. As I was eating, a gentleman who looked to be about 60 came over to chat. 

Will wass originally from Michigan and had traveled the country the same ways I was. Will had walked and hitchhiked, but said, regretfully, that he never had the nerve to hop a train. He was one of the few people I had met here who were not convinced that everyone in the world was a murderer-in-waiting. He was also (coincidentally?) one of the few that had gotten out there to see it for himself. 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!

But, I settled in 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 in hopes of maybe learning what bound this unique, diverse group together.

The pastor was a rough looking leather-clad biker type who clearly had not always ‘turned the other cheek’. And, looked like he could still “open the can” if needed. A regret I have is that I can't remember his name. Therefore, for the sake of the story I hereby dub him “Snake”. Pastor Snake. Nice.

Snake had an oratory gift and it was immediately apparent that this was not going to be the typical snoozer sermon. He began by criticizing “most Christians”. He condemned 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 longstanding annoyance: because it will increase their standing with God! He verbalized it perfectly, bluntly, and to my amazement, with refreshingly appropriate anger! He pointed out that charity borne from self-interest is not charity at all; it is closer to a business arrangement: “I will help you only if it helps me!” To me, this has always stunk of the height of religious arrogance, hypocrisy, and deceit. Yet, not it’s only example.

Snake’s sermon then went on to topics that astounded and tingled my sense of synchronicity. He began to speak about several things 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 offered 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 voice 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" striving to knock you off course. He went on to offer that it is arrogant to believe that your own feelings of personal doubt in any way supersede "God's Purpose for You"; that if you’re following God’s Calling there is no way doubt should ever be a factor; God would never put you on a path you cannot complete. In Snake's eyes, believing that intellect (logic) and emotion are more accurate or reliable barometers than "the calling" is absurd. In fact, it's egocentric arrogance.

He slightly lost me with his 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? Or, even your own? In my experience: absolutely. How often can you really trace the nexus of fear and doubt back to something that authentically originates within? Not often, provided 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 in humanity, and ourselves. Suggesting that people are puppets simply here to have our "strings pulled" is a convenient thought to instill if you wish to eliminate critical thought and individuality. It collectively stunts 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 and doctrine spray painted on our mind’s wall. When they mess up and come up with something successfully innovative, "God spoke to him!" If it fails? Gotta 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. Looking at you, Moonbeam.

Externalization forces people’s ideas to 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-- even religions-- that suit our developing, distinct appetites. 

Reading is great. Thinking is better. 

Combining both (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”. Did he mean, by verbal connect-the-dots, that The Machine 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”. Maybe I'll post that rant here. Someday.

Finally, and most interestingly to me, were 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. 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 & bolts’ and the ‘how’ are irrelevant. He takes the same viewpoint on adversity met along the path as many others have: obstacles to be overcome and 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 on 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 discovered 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. Or, turn Karma or the Universe into your bitch. (That expanded theme would return, in force, a year later.) 

You have to meet it at least half way. If you believe that sitting in your house, waiting for Leonard Cohen’s "Miracle to Come" is going to trigger 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 WE are the ones who fire it. Or, you will find yourself stuck on the proverbial (or real!) lonely exit ramp. Trust me!

This was a powerfully unconventional 45-minute sermon, and lest ye be worried, I have not 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 parallel 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 but differently-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?” 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 my traveling in the first place and when I used the “Splinter in the Mind” phrase, and quickly encapsulated the last four years, he looked astounded. He was convinced that I was ‘called’. 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 in 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. They've found new avenues to travel and expand themselves. Ideas like an appreciation for the ideas behind, but institutional 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 *whispering* 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 I'd 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 in the fact that Christ, Mohammad, and Buddha all have ‘wandering’ as a theme.

Despite this experience, it is obvious to me that 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 many evangelicals pull in.

“God’s watching you, keeping score!” “Do what we say, or you’re going to HELL! By the way, my flock, God spoke to me and told me to provide bigger tits for Tammey Faye. Pony Up, and let's buy bigger boobs! For JESUS!”

Further, take a gander at Focus on the Family or any of the other douchbags blaming 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 Vietnam-like recruiting crisis with more and more 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 Do We Know?” (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 offered to let me help him on a roofing job the following week and when he learned about my 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 roofing 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 on that Saturday night. It would take almost two weeks to processed them properly, if only partially. (Thus the delay!)

Will dropped me at the ramp to 220 again. I was again unmotivated to walk, even after everything that had happened; choosing to simply revert to habit! The night however was NOT quite over. But, since I am over 4,600 pre-edited words already, you will have to wait for this little Dukes of Hazard scene. 

4,600 is about the length of Obama’s acceptance speech, so kudos if you have made it all the way through; writing it was quite an intense non-stop 6 1/2 hours!




My hands hurt.