9/22-10/9/09: 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 that I had much to process and, as always upon returning home, felt highly motivated to get it done immediately in supposed marathon sessions. But, as usual, it didn't happen that way. Rather than a narrative, the writing promptly displayed a tendency to create more questions; deeper layers than I 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 surprisingly 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 & unpredictable tool I've acquired somewhere.

As I started to verbally spew into the computer, making connections to both past events and those 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 multilayer ideas. Yet, the potentially toxic, uncomfortable nature of these observations set off warning signals throughout my psyche. Was this just my ego going nuts?

I began seeking out other opinions and through conversations with Laina, Chris and The Sage, my impressive, redneck 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 "who the hell I thought I was" in 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 written with my actual thoughts... therefore not causing any immediate discomfort to the protagonists. 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 Laina astutely and repeatedly pointed out, "editing 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, or worse: put on an "act", would be something I wouldn't be able to stomach, 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 selfishly protecting a possible flawed point-of-view through linguistic voodoo & 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 uncomforatable honesty. Considering that The Hens had chosen to "de-friend" 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...

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...

6/6-6/10/09: 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 with 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.

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!

12/22/08-Winter Quarters

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's arrival has provided some rather creepy reunions. I’ve touched base with many people from my 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 I 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...