A Hike to Sugar Loaf

My mother recently unearthed the following piece which I wrote for 12th Grade English. The assignment was to write a narrative, something that's turned into a specialty for me of late. Written in the spring of 1989, it is the true tale of a journey I'd recently made with my brethren:

It was Saturday morning. Looking outside, I saw that it was going to be a fine day. There were only a few clouds in the sky and a light breeze was blowing to the west. The sun was about halfway up the horizon. It was mid-April 1988. I was still getting used to the warm weather after months of snow and cold.

Suddenly, an idea came. I thought back to the summer of '87 when a friend had taken me up on a hike to Sugar Loaf.



I had never been to Sugar Loaf prior to that. My brothers had never been there before. Why not show them the sights and have a good time on a lovely Saturday afternoon?

One of my brothers, Mike, had invited someone to stay over the night before. This friend of his, Pat, would be staying until this afternoon, so why not invite him also and add to the fun? My brothers, Pat, and I, the five of us, could get some supplies together and hike up to Sugar Loaf and I could be the leader because I was the only one who had ever been up there before. I wondered if I still knew the paths that would lead to the top of the hill of Sugar Loaf. After all, I hadn't been up there for a year and I had only been up there once in my whole life. I decided to risk it.

I asked my brothers and Pat if they would like to go. I described the majesty of seeing Sugar Loaf up close and the spectacular view of the city below. They agreed, Pat being the most enthused about it. So we proceeded to get our supplies organized. We decided to bring a red, medium-sized backpack on our journey. It would carry 5 water bottles, 1 for each of us to drink from. We would also bring some Doritos along to eat. We figured that we could "crunch all we wanted". Doritos Co. would "still make more" (reference to Doritos' late-80's ad campaign). Finally, we brought a camera. I put it in a separate compartment in the backpack so that it would not get wet from the water bottles.

We made plans to leave at about 11am. It was agreed that I would lead the party, since I was the only one who knew the way and that I would carry the backpack for the duration of the much-heralded hike. We made final preparations and left. Sugar Loaf is about a mile from my house. We decided to walk there.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day. The sun was high overhead and an air of expectation could be felt throughout our small group. I pointed out Sugar Loaf and said, "Well, in about an hour, you boys will be standing right next to that rock". The boys couldn't wait.

(To Be Continued)

My 23-Year Old Self Tries to Get You to Feel Bad For Him

Last week, I came across a paper I did in college called Stress: How Managers and Employees Can Deal With It. It opens by describing a job I had a number of years before. Since I've yet to talk about this particular position, I figured I'd just let the words I wrote back in 1994 tell the tale:

While attending Winona State in 1991, I found a part-time job at Sammy's Pizza in downtown Winona.



I worked two or three nights a week and was paid minimum wage. I was a kitchen worker who did dishes, sliced cheese, heated up spaghetti, ravioli, and lasagna, and also ran the chicken fryer.

I liked the kitchen because it was relatively quiet and I didn't have to worry about dealing with unruly customers. It was a decent job, but when it got busy on the weekends or on buffet nights, I had a tendency to get stressed out. I tried to stay relaxed, but with three or four things to do at once, it wasn't easy.

I usually got to take a half-hour break in the late evening, but if there was too much to do, I had to skip it, which made for a very long night. In other words, if we weren't busy, I could take a break, but if the restaurant was crowded, I just had to keep working and working. This caused me much anxiety, so I told management that I only wanted to work one or two nights. Many weekends I desperately wanted to quit when the work began to overwhelm me.

Last fall, I finally came to the end of my rope. I walked out (actually snuck out the back door) at about ten o'clock one evening. I just couldn't stand another minute. I was going through a major depression. The pain I felt can scarcely be expressed. I went to the bottom of the barrel and stayed there. But, through medication and therapy, I was able to claw my way out.

Rochester Post-Bulletin

Referencing Barb Kasel's letter to the editor from Oct. 5, it's well-known that Christ makes no explicit judgment on homosexuality in the Bible; those who like to push an anti-gay agenda invariably turn to Deuteronomy to back them up.

If being gay is as much an outrage as some seem to think it is, it befuddles me why Jesus made no mention of it. Ultimately, Jesus' message was one of unconditional love.

Efforts to deny homosexuals the right to marry has led to situations where one party is not allowed to visit the hospital room of their partner, even when they are on their death bed, because they are not related. It's obvious in such cases what the most loving thing to do is. Similarly, some of the issues that the Catholic Church now faces could be alleviated, at least somewhat, by giving priests the right to marry.

To those who would say that marriage should only be between a man and a woman, I say that those of a different sexual orientation are no less committed to love and happiness than the rest of us. To put restrictions on who we may share our love with is antithetical to the kind of love that is attributed to Christ in the New Testament.

Thomas Dixon
Rochester

(link to article, which has more than 100 comments)

April 14, 1994 - Journal entry

It rained all night as the thunder rolled across the valley. The boom of the storm reminded him of the unrest of his life. His grief was far-reaching and deep. The sky was cold and gray. Would the sun ever shine on him again?

He had tried to stop the rain, but it continued to fall endlessly. You can't change the past. You can only live and learn. Second-guessing wastes precious time. But the rain wouldn't let him forget. The sky and rain and trees seemed to merge into an ugly mass. He drifted off to sleep losing consciousness forever.

Miller Felpax

My second job out of high school (you can read about the first here) was a summer position at a local factory called Miller Felpax. It was the summer of 1990, twenty years ago. During my interview, I told the supervisors that my wish was to work four days; even back then, I didn't see the point of putting forty hours in. The reason that I wanted Fridays off, however, had to do with me wanting to see all the cool new movies on opening day. Of course, I didn't tell the higher-ups that this was my reason for requesting the hours I did. As the interview ended, I was told that I couldn't wear the tennis shoes I had on; that the job required steel-toed boots.

Biking the two miles to work wearing those monstrous shoes definitely took some getting used to. For the first few days, over lunch, I biked the three blocks to my dad's house to have a sandwich and some chocolate. He liked seeing me, but the intrusion and the amount of food I ate behooved him to forbid me to come during these times for most of the duration of the summer.

For the first couple weeks, I did standard factory work that involved machines and trying not to look at the clock much. Break time was always welcomed. I mostly used the time to get a glass bottle of Orange pop out of the old-time machine. That stuff really hit the spot; keep in mind that this was the most taxing work I'd done thus far in my life.

On Friday, June 15th, me and my 10-year old cousin, Andy, went to "Gremlins 2: The New Batch". We had waited years to see the follow-up to the 1984 movie. Well, he probably didn't anticipate it as greatly as I as he was only 4 when his mom took him to it; she figured the Spielberg production would be as tame as his last film, "E.T". He had tons of nightmares from it and couldn't even go to the bathroom by himself for some time, so sure was he that a gremlin would get him when no one was around; this happened to a lot of kids, so much so that along with "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom", it helped bring about the PG-13 rating.

By summer 1990, however, he was healed and was more than happy to accompany me. I picked him up and we biked to the theatre. The film turned out to be more of a comedy than truly scary. One of my favorite lines is when the main character, Billy, gets off the elevator at a Trump-type corporation and is told by an automated female voice to "Have a powerful day".

One morning, later that month, I was cussed out by my main boss, Ed Becker, for not coming to work one morning when we received torrential rain; I wasn't going to bike in that.



I told him it wouldn't happen again. As time passed, I was given various odd jobs such as painting and sweeping. Two of the painters were also summer hires, in fact, they were fellow graduates of mine from the spring before. Dressed in their white jumpsuits, their job was to repaint the exterior of Felpax. One afternoon, I was asked to help, but the sun was so bright that I couldn't do so until I was given a pair of goggle sunglasses. Not too long after, my closest high school friend, Brian, was also hired. Becker said he hoped that Brian would be a harder worker than me. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Days of Thunder" opened in late June and a friend of my brother's named Pat came over one weekday evening wanting me to accompany him to it. Now this wasn't because he was looking for my company. No, he was under the impression that "Thunder" was rated R, so was looking for an adult's supervision. I told him there was no way that "Thunder" was R and told him to hit the theatre. I found out some time later that he was behind the potato that was thrown through my outside living room window (it didn't damage the inner one). The caretakers wondered how I didn't hear the noise when it occurred. I said that I slept quite soundly and had a fan for white noise.

One morning, I was helping a man who was working one of the machines. While I stood and gave him the parts, the man, seated on a metal stool, put them through some kind of cutter. The boss came by a short time later and it was just then that the seated man stretched his back, grimaced, and said that his back was killing him, that a cushion or back rest would be much appreciated. Becker told him that work wasn't a place in which to be comfortable. My dislike for him grew a great deal on that day.

In early July, I saw "Die Hard 2: Die Harder"; the audience laughed on Letterman when Bruce Willis told them the movie's title.

Over a number of days, me and Brian painted a wire fence. To do so, we used gloves that allowed us to use our fingers to reach all portions of the fence. One morning, I was in front of the building and spilled a substance on the ground. I went inside to one of the bosses, Merlin, and told him what happened. He said he didn't believe it could be removed. My stomach sank. Thankfully, he was able to save my ass and get the residue out.

One day, Brian was assigned to go to the roof and paint some of the fixtures up there. Sometime later, Ed went up there to check on his progress. He found him just sitting there, meditating on the meaning of life, perhaps, not a bad idea as working there was hands down the worst job I ever had. I can still see Brian driving away a few minutes later, waving at me. I didn't find out until later that he had been fired.

I went to "Arachnophobia" in late July and enjoyed the Spielbergian overtures of the film. The audience was really into it.

On a number of occasions, Ed complained that he should've hired a guy who could put the full 40 hours in. One day, while working on a machine, it got stuck. I called for Ed who, as he fixed it, said, "Stupid people". Not too long after, he said he hoped that I'd end up finding a job in which I used my head (as opposed to my hands).

In August, I caught "Flatliners", a provocative movie dealing with death and its aftermath.



During my last few hours at Felpax, Ed had me take solids out of a large barrel filled with oil. Though he may have tried, he was unable to break my spirit. A week later, my stepdad mentioned how proud he was of the fact that I worked at a factory all summer. A couple years later, I saw in the paper that Becker had died. Me and Brian talked about our favorite memories of him before saying a prayer for the souls who were stuck with him in Hell.

I Don't Know What To Title This

Today my employer went all-out and provided Little Caesar's Pizza for all to enjoy. I abstained, firstly, because I don't typically eat lunch, but also because I knew I was going to a pizza buffet just five hours later. My lady-friend went with me, but just had water. Is she dieting, you may ask?

I'll say! She's lost 28 pounds in the last four and a half weeks. You see, on the 24th of last month, she had gastric bypass surgery. Though 5'10" and under 250 pounds, pretty much all her fat accumulates around her stomach. Her cholesterol numbers were higher than John Lennon in the early 70's. I repeatedly asked if she was sure this was what she wanted. She assured me that she couldn't control her cravings on her own, that making her stomach smaller is what was required.

A couple weeks ago, she warned me not to feel competitive, not to get PO'd if her weight goes below mine. Where a few weeks ago, she was obese, now she is simply overweight. I can see her features being chipped away day by day, revealing the person I first came to love more than a dozen years ago, well before people got addicted to shit like FarmVille.

We saw a movie on Saturday: "The Town" starring and directed by Ben Affleck.



The reviews were phenomenal (more than 94% positive on Rotten Tomatoes), so I had high expectations, which actually wound up being surpassed. Taking place in Boston, it's a heist movie which doesn't give short shrift to character development. After the Facebook movie, the next one on my list is "Hereafter". Starring Ben's buddy, Matt Damon, and directed by Clint Eastwood, one of its big set pieces is the tsunami that killed more than 200,000 a few years ago.

And just to show that I'm not going soft, here is a text message that I sent to a friend today:

"Tom's head is so far up his ass that he can see Adam Lambert."

New Age Man in the Land of Sin

Five years ago this November, I took my first (and so far, only) trip to Las Vegas. The occasion was to visit my wife's in-laws who moved there in 2003. I was looking forward to going somewhere where it'd be a bit warmer than Minnesota. As the plane took off in the mid-afternoon, the passengers were subdued. I passed the time listening to my CD headset. This was the first time I'd ridden in a plane since our honeymoon seven years before.

My first plane ride was at the age of three when my parents transported me and my younger sibling to the States after my father's tour was over with the Air Force. My mom said that I threw up as we flew over the Atlantic. Could it be that flying at 30,000 feet didn't sit well with my stomach? Was it the ear popping that compelled me to hurl? Or was it the fact that I would no longer be able to drink goat's milk, the main type of dairy that was available in Greece?

The mood lightened considerably as we drew closer to Sin City. It was as if at the beginning of the flight, the people were told that they might get laid that night, but it wasn't a sure thing. Two hours later, they KNEW they were getting some. As we obtained our luggage, there were signs everywhere for various shows that were playing in town. Celine Dion's was probably the biggest at the time, one that we looked forward to attending in a few days (it was a late anniversary present from her parents).

Our brother-in-law drove us to my wife's parents house where we would be staying for the duration. They lived in a community in which all members had to be at least 55. I shudder to think of how much Viagra existed there per capita. Perhaps not coincidentally, there was a CVS pharmacy located just a few blocks away. All the houses were just one level so that the elder set would never again have to climb stairs. The name of the cable company out there was Cox which was ridiculously appropriate for a state in which brothels are legal. The next day was Thanksgiving. A good meal and time was had by all.

On the day after that, we were driven past the Strip, through New York, New York, gay Pari, and the Lion at the MGM Grand. There was a monstrous Christmas tree placed at one spot. We parked near Paris and while the guys gambled, I went shopping with the girls. Much to my chagrin, smoking was allowed inside Paris. I thought that went a tad far. They should've just gone all the way and had hookers on the street corners, too.

Later, I went with my sister-in-law to New York where we rode the roller coaster.



Priced at close to ten bucks, I got a bit of a crick in the neck from it. As we went out to eat that evening, I saw the first of three Vegas cliches, a bride and groom who had just been married. The other two, which I saw over the next couple days, were an Elvis impersonator and a guy with a cowboy hat counting his money as he came out of the casino.

The next night, we saw Celine at Caesar's. I would've much preferred to be seeing Paul McCartney who was playing at the same time at the MGM, but there wasn't much I could do about it. As we strolled to our seats, I noticed that 16 ounce bottles of Celine water were for sale. The five dollar price tag put me off of them, however. Though I'm not the hugest fan, she had quite a good show. After some time off, she's returning to Vegas for another extended stay next year. In the gift shop afterwards, it was an estrogen fest as women stocked up on Celine discs and perfumes.

The following night, we spent a bit of time in Downtown Vegas. We passed the area where the strip had originally started and saw old-school places like the Sahara (which has a camel as its logo). During the ride, my brother-in-law explained to my wife how to play Texas Hold Em. If it hasn't already become apparent, I have no interest in gambling. While downtown, we saw a number of acrobats doing their shtick about 30 feet in the air as techno music played.

On one of our last days, I was able to convince my father-in-law to take me to a place I might enjoy: a used record shop. While there, I bought Jerry Seinfeld's "I'm Telling You For the Last Time" and the Symbol's multi-disc "Crystal Ball".

Later, we went to Vegas's biggest souvenir shop. On the way there, I saw a homeless man begging for money at the intersection. I rolled down my window and gave him a couple bucks when my wife and father-in-law weren't looking. They figured he was just gonna spend the money on boos or drugs. If I was homeless, I'd probably do the same in order to forget the pain. We found jack shit at the store, but I didn't have a problem with having more money in my wallet. That evening, we went to a restaurant called Terrible's. It was located inside a casino which was also called Terrible's.



Despite the name, I found the food to be quite palatable.

The next day, we headed back to Minnesota. I can't say that going to Vegas dissuaded me much from the opinion that it's overrated; I had more fun watching "The Hangover", but at least I can say that I've been there.

The Nard Dog

Sharing an apartment with an adolescent Saint Bernard is no mean feat as this video from 1999 attests. The music I had playing on the stereo probably exacerbated things.

Phy Ed

Me and Physical Education had quite the relationship during my school days. One of my earliest joys was playing kickball in grade school, though I was often picked last (or close to last). One afternoon, I asked a guy in the grade above me if I could join in. He said I could, but that if I flew out, I was off the team. Wonder of wonders, I popped it up and was outta there. And, of course, there was the time that I REALLY popped it up. Click here if you're not familiar with the story.

Some of my classmates could really make it sail, so much so that the outfielders would have to go down a steep decline that went into a creek. It was quite dangerous when I look back on it, but, hey, it was the 80's. The janitor, Les Schmoker, could be seen every few days on the roof of the school throwing down rubber balls that had "unintentionally" been kicked up there.

In the 6th grade, I was able to join an exclusive club of guys who played football off to the side in the school's driveway. Two of them were Jason and Russell Speltz. They were really into sports and it felt good to be able to play with them. It certainly helped my self-esteem having been a bit of a loner the years before in no small part because of my shyness. One afternoon, while playing, I saw my mom tending the garden in our backyard; our house was located across the street and a few houses over.

On a lazy summer evening, I was playing football in our backyard with David Rinn when an older fellow named Tom Jacobi who had been bullying me passed by on his bike. My dad, aware of the situation, managed to get him to stop and told him to cease doing these things to his progeny. Tom appeared to take it well, but when he was about 30 feet away on his bike, he loudly said: "Fucker!!" My dad yelled, "Come back here and say that, Big Boy!" He was PO'd at being swore at by a snot-nosed high school kid. I found out later that Tom got in serious trouble with his mother for all the mischief he caused. I only wish that he was on Facebook so that we could have a laugh over the long-ago incident.

I was in for a rude awakening in 7th grade. We were required to wear a gym uniform (T-shirt and shorts). What's worse is that men were compelled to wear a cup. I was full of anxiety as I put the cup on followed by the uni. We walked a few blocks to the closest park where I saw an old friend from 1st grade named Shelly Smith (I'm really dropping the names here, aren't I?). The reason I remember this is because at the time we were all sitting in a circle doing stretches. I became self-conscious as I realized that some of the girls could see my cup. I resolved that day to never again wear one.

Another uncomfortable aspect of junior high Phy Ed occurred shortly thereafter as we hit the showers. Me and one of the Farrell twins were looking to get out of doing so, but an instructor said that we must do so. With our "tails" between our legs, we did as we were told. I didn't even really soap myself off, I was so self-conscious. My mindset wasn't helped by the guy who seemed to glance at every guy's dick as he threw a towel at them.

Still more trauma was experienced during the two weeks we had swimming. It wasn't so much that I didn't know how to swim, but that I had to wear what amounted to a pair of Speedo trunks.

I was all too eager to get into the pool so that others wouldn't be able to see my all-but-bare 13-year-old body. One morning, as I sat at the toilet at home, I cursed the fact that of the seven days of the week it could be, it just happened to be one of the two in which I would have to "swim".

My last year of Phy Ed was 10th grade; it wasn't required in 11th or 12th. One sunny day, they had us run around the smaller portion of Lake Winona (it's pictured below with the school behind it).



I was surprised at how much I put into it, doing my best to keep up with some of the stronger and more fit guys on the team. The coach, Mr. Kendrick, was so impressed that he asked if I'd be interested in joining the track team. I said I'd consider it, but later declined; one of the things I didn't like about running was how out of breath it made a person.

College required that we take just two Phy Ed classes. The first I opted for was Personal Fitness. I was suprised that first day when Mr. Gunnar said that we only needed to attend that first class if we covered a certain amount of ground in 10 minutes. We couldn't run, though, it had to be walking; walking fast was fine. Excited at the possibility of getting an easy A, I walked with alacrity. I felt sorry for some of the chunkier girls. It appeared that they'd be seeing Mr. Gunnar weekly for the next couple months. This other lady was able to finish ahead of me, but I was close behind.

A couple years later, I took Bowling. Also taught by Gunnar, there was no option that if you scored over 150 that first day, you'd be scot-free for the rest of the quarter. I'm kind of glad that wasn't the case, however, as I had a great time bowling with my classmates. Cups and showers seemed a lifetime ago as I rolled that ball down the lanes that Winona State had in the Student Union area.

We got out of one of the classes because Gunnar's mom died and another because he just didn't show up; his woman probably ditched him. I polished a split one morning and was beaming as Gunnar saw it and said, "Great shot!" The last day, we did a written test on the basics of the game which I had no problem with. I confess to being a tad melancholic as I left the alley that day.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 5

I made sure to get up plenty early on Monday morning, the last day of the conference. For Neale's all-day, I wanted to be as close as possible. As I prepared to take my luggage to the car, I took a look at the TV and marveled at how I hadn't watched it on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Since I hadn't been on the internet, either, I was under a media blackout of sorts. If a speaker talked about something that had recently happened in the world, I was totally clueless and liked it that way. I also hadn't really had any time to be outside or to be among those of a non-spiritual bent (though the hotel employees could be considered such, they blended in so well that it was easy to forget).

I was in line for Neale's seminar at about 8:10am, 50 minutes before it was to begin. A lady walked past and said, "Are you holding up the line for Neale?" I said, "Yes" and added, in a nod to "Misery", "I'm his number one fan". We were let in around 8:35. I walked quickly up front where I got a front row seat just a few feet from where he would be speaking. In the pic below, you can see Neale to the right of the whiteboard (just to the right of the bald man) and me (wearing a blue shirt) close by:



He had lots of new stuff. Doncha hate it when you go to see a comedian and he just regurgitates the same old shtick? Like last summer, Neale went over the ins and outs of the Mechanics of the Mind and the System of the Soul, but there was plenty of time to go into other areas. Early on, a younger man asked what reality is. I smiled as Neale said that there was no such thing as objective reality. He mentioned that spending 6 hours with him might seem like a lot, especially compared to the 90-minute sessions he'd given earlier in the weekend, but that we would only be exposed to about 6% of the totality of what he'd like to share.

He said that he can afford to not give workshops, but that after a few weeks at home, he gets the craving to share what he's learned (remembered) with as many people as possible. He discussed the figure 8 from his When Everything Changes book; this showed how it is that we go from ultimate reality to the physical reality we now inhabit. Many belief systems, he said, profess that it is possible to go from one realm to another, but not that we get to go back and forth as many times as we want.

At one point, Neale thought it'd be good to have the whiteboard raised from the floor to the platform so that all could see it. He asked that me and another man come up so that the board could be moved. We lifted it up and as the other guy moved a table from the platform to the floor and I was getting ready to sit down, Neale said, "Tom, move that chair out of the way. Snap to it!" I quickly did as I was told. Pretty cool, I thought, to be taking orders from a best-selling author.

Later, he talked of ways to get in touch with the divine, one being taking 10 seconds when you're in the middle of doing something and just stopping. He illustrated this by stopping talking in the middle of a sentence and not speaking again until 10 seconds later. I've tried this one myself and it is quite potent. Not sure how good it would go over when one is having sex.

Later in the morning, while writing on the board, he said, "Those who were thinking we were going to be having a morning break, NA NA NA NA NA NA!!" A little after noon, we were given 90 minutes for lunch. A salad buffet was served and unlike Friday's lunch, this time it was Caesar salad which is much more my cup of tea.



The dessert chocolate was much too rich, however; speaking to how we experience reality differently, the women I was with said it was heavenly. Shortly before returning to the conference room, I stopped in the bathroom where I saw Michael Tamura. Wouldn't you know it, while he was trying to go, someone started talking to him and began peppering him with questions. Tamura took it in stride.

Neale had lots of really cool asides, such as when he talked about how nothing is ever deleted on a computer. It can be put into a recycle bin and the recycle bin can be emptied, but it's all still there. He said the soul is the same way. Plenty of laughs were generated when he said that FEAR stands for Fuck Everything And Run. He talked about how our brains had evolved over time, from the reptillian one, which simply reacts, to the mammalian one. In some way, he said, it would be less complicated if we still had just the mammalian one. A lions roars, for example, but it doesn't second-guess itself afterward, thinking, "Maybe I shouldn't have roared at those lions. Perhaps I was out of line".

He also spoke to those who believe that they are unworthy of God; "The sun is a part of God, the trees are a part of God, the flowers are all a part of God, but God ends at your body", he said facetiously. He had some great words on the value of having things in this world that we don't agree with, on how it is necessary for there to be the opposite of what you think you are in order for you to decide and declare who you wish to be. This made me see the good in having someone like Sarah Palin around.

As our time started winding down, he said that forgiveness is not necessary if there is understanding. That is, if you can understand why someone might do the thing that they did that makes you think they need to be forgiven. He also said that all the things we believe in, we're making up. For many years, the Catholic Church required that no one eat meat on Fridays. How did this come to be? Someone made it up. It's professed by some in the Islam faith that martyrs will get 72 virgins in heaven. Where did that come from? Someone made it up. The Jehovah's Witnesses believe it is immoral to get a blood transfusion. Again, someone made it up and the sadness is that millions actually believe it. Of course, this means I'm also making up my own beliefs, but I feel it's better to err on the side of unconditional love over orthodoxy.

Neale concluded by saying that God doesn't make any mistakes, that all circumstances you encounter are for your highest growth and that the game never ends. His wife (Em Claire) ended with a beautiful poem. Here's a portion of it:

"Go Outside and play!" said God. "I have given you Universes as fields to run free in! And here - take this and wrap yourself in it - It's called: LOVE and It will always, always keep you warm. And stars! The sun and the moon and the stars! Look upon these often, for they will remind you of your own light! I have given you everything you need. Now go, go, go outside and play!"

The Summer of 1996

It was 14 years ago this summer that I met my wife-to-be; let me take you back to those not-so-innocent days. The first time I went into her apartment, I saw her kitten sauntering out of the bedroom. Once she saw me, a stranger in her place, she turned around and high-tailed it back to the bedroom; she would've slammed the door behind her if she'd had the means.

In those days, my girl was on the notorious prescription drug(s), Phen-Fen. It had helped her lose a good deal of weight. She ate extremely healthily, much more than me. One evening, she made us some Boca (no meat) burgers. They were awful, but I didn't tell her that. She never wanted to accompany me to one of my favorite restaurants, Taco John's, because they didn't have any low-fat menu items. One evening, she said, "Screw it" and went to Burger King with me where she had a Whopper; Lord knows she wasn't getting that in the bedroom.

I knew I had her in the palm of my hand when she started stocking food items that were my favorites, in particular, a 2-liter of Sunkist that sat on top of the fridge. One of my favorite things to do at her place was play solitaire on the computer. Her bedroom had a twin on the floor and one up on a loft. I never asked, but they must've been a residue from her dorm days. On some evenings, when she was at work and I was bored as sin, I snooped around her things.

One thing that bothered me a bit in those days was that she wouldn't go to bed at the same time I did; she liked to stay up late. Her favorite song at the time was Robert Miles' electronic classic, "Children". We took turns in her car listening to our favorite radio stations; I preferred country, she, dance/pop.

The first movie we went to together was "Phenomenon" starring John Travolta, the second, "Jack" starring Robin Williams. Coincidentally, she watched a movie last week which starred both of them: "Old Dogs". We went to a matinee of "A Very Brady Sequel" a couple weeks later where we were the only ones in attendance.

On one late summer evening, we took a walk around the bike path at Lake Winona (we initially met very close by). About 10 minutes in, it started pouring, so we ran back to the car. It's the kind of scene you'd see in a formulaic romantic movie.

During this period, I was reading "When Bad Things Happen To Good People" by Harold Kushner. I don't specifically remember this; I saw the book on the floor in one of the pictures taken at the time.

That fall, she attended graduate school where she was assigned a report for Human Development, a psychology course. The instructor said that a video report would be great for those who had camcorders. She ran the idea by me and I was all too happy to help. Here are the first few moments:

Movie Facts

As a 10-year old, my dream job was to be a movie usher. I loved buying a ticket and being captive for two hours to a story that would transport me to another time and place. Ushering would put me as close as I could possibly get to celluloid, without moving to Hollywood, of course. I didn't let other people's availability affect my moviegoing habits. Since seeing "Raiders of the Lost Ark" on my own in 1981, I was more than accustomed to going to a show on my own.

I would typically go to Snyder Drug beforehand to get some candy to chew on during the movie; in most cases, it would be SweeTarts or Tart & Tinys. I made sure to get to the theatre a good half hour before showtime in order to ensure getting my favorite seat (located on the side in the back row). At the time, Winona's theatre consisted of 4 screens. To the right of the ticket counter, a poster for a movie that was yet to come was always posted. On many occasions, I would smile looking at it, usually a sequel that I wasn't aware was on its way.

I was never big on popcorn, so skipped the concession stand. Once in a great while, I would play Centipede. It never lasted long, though, as I wasn't very good at it. After going to the bathroom, I would pick up a brochure called Movie Facts, a publication still in existence; it was seeing it at the theatre last week that compelled this post.



Browsing it gave me something to do while waiting for the show to start. Reading the list of movies with short synopsis, I was apprised of what was on the horizon. Next, I looked at the celebrity profiles. Hopefully, by then, there were a number of people in the theatre. Back then, there was no before-show commercials, just silence which was gradually erased as more people arrived.

Sometimes I would be disappointed at the paucity of people who showed for an opening night presentation. On other evenings, the place was so crowded that I had to bear someone sitting next to me. Of course, when a relatively young woman sat at my side, I wasn't quite as bothered. I wouldn't start in on the candy until the movie started or, if I was itching for it, then the previews.

In the late 80's, two attractive girls in the class behind me worked at the ticket counter. One of the girls had sat in front of me in Algebra class. One afternoon, before class, sitting at my desk, she walked in and sang, "Hey Good Lookin, Whatcha got cookin, How about cooking something up for me...." I smiled, but always wondered if she'd been talking about me or some radical dude she'd met the night before.

Enter To Grow In Knowledge

The first library I remember going to was the one at my elementary school. It wasn't very big, but there were still plenty of tomes that interested me. The paperback rack had titles like "Toby Tyler" and "The Search for Planet X".



(I was captivated by the thought that there might be another planet beyond Pluto, which it turns out is not a planet after all).

One afternoon, a classmate named Jeff checked out an illustrated book about mythology. Noting the photographs of nude sculptures in it, a girl named Vicky said to him, "I know why you're getting that". A number of boys in my class were into the NFL, so liked to look at Football Digest. One of the books had two pictures of Johnny Carson in it. One showed what he looked like on TV, the other what he saw when he looked in the mirror.

I spent a great deal more time at the Senior High library. It's where I hung out while classmates were eating their lunch. I had a perfect spot in which to sit. It was at a table that had a bunch of reference books on its top shelf; the books perfectly obscured my face so that people generally couldn't see me. It was also much less distracting for me, not having to lift my head every time someone crossed my peripheral vision. One of my favorite things to look at were the World Almanac and the Information Please Almanac (I saw the latter at the public library recently and had to chuckle).

A guy who was one year ahead of me came through the library one afternoon, coughing loudly. He quickly left, but not before saying, "Smoker's cough..." I laughed for a number of seconds after hearing that one and it left such an impression that here I am describing it more than two decades later. A dude who apparently didn't like the look of my face once came up to me and asked if I'd heard the hit country song by Hank Williams Jr. called "Attitude Adjustment". He said that that's what I needed. In my last week there, I picked up the day's newspaper to read the review of "Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade". They panned it, but I just couldn't believe that Spielberg was gonna let me down. That evening, I went to it and was quite impressed.

During my early college days, I sought to find out what was up with the bloke that some refer to as God. I headed to the Winona Public Library and started with Raymond Moody's seminal 70's work, "Life After Life".

It dealt with a topic that hadn't been discussed much before then, the Near-Death Experience. Reading similar works by Moody afterward led me to believe that something was definitely going on.

The thing that really sold it, in my mind, were the profound changes that these people experienced after their NDE. How could they no longer be afraid of death? No longer concerned about having a job or money? Some probably wouldn't believe until they'd had the actual experience, but the thousands of reports persuaded me that when we die, we are opened up into new worlds. It was amusing reading reports of people who were atheists wondering how in the world they could still be existing, looking back on their still body.

After not going to the library for a number of years in the mid '00's because I didn't like the idea of having to return books, I started up again last winter and have been greatly enriched by it. My old friend, Tim, said awhile back that he was constantly reading books. I doubted that there were works out there that I'd be interested in reading. I've been pleasantly proven wrong, however.

Today, after getting a massage, I had one hour to find three good tomes at the public library. I went to the God section and after a couple minutes of browsing, found "Fingerprints of God". Happy that I'd found a compelling title, I headed for the music section, but not before glancing down at the bottom shelf of the new release table and seeing a book called "Thriller: The Musical Life of Michael Jackson". It deals with the making of one of the most influential recordings of all time, "Thriller", a disc I listen to to this day.

Finally, seeing a copy of it in the audiobook section and thinking it might be interesting to read, I checked out "Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream". This same author recently released a book called "Bright-Sided" whose subtitle is that Positive Thinking is Undermining America. That might be one to look at later this year.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to bring back the card catalog...

Back Into the Way-Back Machine

Some have wondered how it is that I have such detailed access to events that have occurred in my life. I don't have a stack of journals in my basement; it comes almost exclusively from memory. The fastest way for me to access them is by seeing myself in a specific place.

For instance, if I project myself into my childhood bedroom, I can recall the time I played "Doctor" with a girl whose parents were friends with my parents. As she laid on the bed, I touched her bare chest. Suddenly I heard the door open, so quickly put my hand in my lap as if we had simply been conversing. Looking into my sister's bedroom, I see the diary she used to keep. It had a lock, but she didn't always put it to use. Curiosity compelled me to look at it a "couple" times.

Going into the dining room, I remember an evening in 1982 in which my cousin mentioned that the title of the upcoming Star Wars movie was going to be "Revenge of the Jedi", except he didn't pronounce Jedi correctly; he called it Jeedee. I enjoyed playing the children's version of the Jokers Wild game there.



One afternoon, as I read the novelization of "The Empire Strikes Back" at the dining room table, I came across a word I'd not heard before; "countenance" (it was referring to Princess Leia's face).

Heading upstairs to my parents' bedroom, I see the evening in which I, laying in a twin bed, dared my sister and brother, laying in a queen-size, to take their clothes off underneath the covers. They did so, but a moment later my father came into the room, saying that he heard what we'd been talking about through the vent; I suspect he was listening in standing next to the closed door. He gave a good little talk about how being naked is a sacred thing, something to be shared with another at a later time. Properly chided, I talked to my siblings about other topics.

Taking a look into the upstairs bathroom, I can see the time that my mom chewed me out because I'd left my underwear in there; we'd had a lady who was doing fix-up work for us and she must've had a gander. To this day, I wonder if they had skid marks.

Heading into my father's den, I see him doing some accounting work as the portable heater blows and a Gene Watson record plays. I visit for a few minutes before leaving him to his work.

Now, it's morning. I just woke up and am still in my pajamas. I bring the Saint Paul Pioneer Press in and browse it as I sit Indian-style next to the living room heater. Bill Diehl has a movie column that I read a couple times a week. After having pancakes for breakfast, I set off on my bike, eager for the next adventure.

Waiting For Godot

At this moment, I'm on top of the world and I don't mean that euphemistically (though I am happy to have today off). I am on the 18th floor of the Mayo Clinic; my love has a number of appointments here this afternoon. One side of this floor looks circa 1960's with old-fashioned chairs and only magazines to pass the time. There are a couple of Amish folks waiting to be seen. I did just observe something new, however. Instead of the nurse coming out and saying the patient's name when the time has come for their appointment, the patient is given a pager when she first checks in and it is then buzzed when magic time arrives.

The other side of the floor was built in the early '00's, so has lots of comfortable chairs, a number of widescreen TV's, and internet access. Despite this, everyone I'm looking at has their face stuck into a printed rag. From time to time, someone will gaze out the window at downtown Rochester. By rights, they should have exercise equipment here for people to utilize while waiting, but I suppose it's a liability issue. Sitting is not a very healthful thing to encourage, though. If people spent all their time in a chair reading, health would surely decline and that's not even including the lethargy that occurs.

An announcement was just made on the overhead speakers that a thunderstorm watch has been declared. I recognize the woman on the intercom; she's a friend on Facebook who I worked with from 2000-2004. I spent the first half hour of my time downtown walking to a number of places. I stopped by the library for a time, then strolled through the Civic Center where the Jehovah's Witnesses will be meeting this weekend. Next, I took a brief respite at Barnes & Noble where they have employees camped out at the entrance, eager to talk patrons into purchasing the Nook (an e-reader).

Myriads and Myriads of Songs

A number of weeks ago, as my wife and I waited at the car dealership for the paperwork to go through on her new car, I remembered that she had received an iPod nano earlier in the year as a 40th birthday present. She'd intended to use it when working out, but the car accident had made her trips to the gym become much less frequent.

Having nothing else to do (it was too hot out to walk), I dug into her purse and took a look at the tracks that had been downloaded by her brother-in-law. I chuckled as I saw that Lady Gaga's "Love Game", one of my favorites, was on there. I listened to it and then moved on to Kanye West's "Stronger". More than 1500 songs were on the device, mostly pop music that ranged from the 50's to present day.

A few days later, as I walked in a park while waiting for her to get through with a doctor's appointment, I found some great 80's gems on it: Simple Minds' "Alive and Kicking", Dwight Twilley's "Girls", and Mick Jagger's "Just Another Night", a song that was rolling through my head as I worked yesterday.

I started to see the value of utilizing such a contraption on a day-to-day basis. One thing I didn't like were the white put-em-in-your-ear buds. They didn't have the dynamic sound I was used to getting with my cover-the-entire-ear-itself phones. I was pleasantly surprised to find that my bigger headphones fit in the iPod's headphone port.

The last hurdle to truly enjoying it was adding some of my favorite tunes (I have more than 500 CD's). As I've noted a number of times in the past, I've never downloaded a song. This is no longer the case. I went to iTunes recently and, over the past few weeks, have put dozens of tracks from my personal collection onto the nano.

It's remarkable to me all the places in which I can use it. I listen to it when going out to play with the dog, when eating out on my own, at the movie theatre waiting for the show to start, doing grocery shopping, browsing for books at the library, taking a walk on my lunch break, posting to this site, and so on.

The only potential downside is the Nano's color:

But Lord knows it wouldn't be the first time that someone thought I was a Batty Boy.

Puppy Love

In the summer of 1983, my mom was no longer an active Jehovah's Witness; she said she no longer believed in it. It was during this time that my dad, along with his female Witness business partner, took us kids to the yearly convention in Wisconsin. We had the good fortune to be going with a couple girls who were my age. They would certainly make the trip much more interesting.

My dad's friend really knew how to drive in style; she had a blue Cadillac. On one occasion, in that huge back seat, we passed a city sign that said: Pop. 1532. I asked her what Pop. meant and she explained it to me. If I spent too much time in that car, I grew to feel quite nauseous. I don't recall ever barfing in it, however.

After several hours of driving that first day, we arrived at the hotel. The girl who was closest to my age, Melanie, had a conversation with me in the back of the Cadillac; my dad and the rest had headed to the office to check in. I was chewing on a large piece of gum. She mentioned that one of the reasons she was taking Spanish that fall was because she liked the idea of being able to swear at others in a different language.

At one moment, a huge piece of saliva (from the gum) came out of my mouth and fell onto her hand. I felt humiliated as she wiped the back of her hand on the underside of the car seat. We talked for another minute or two before heading into the hotel.

As day turned to night, my siblings and the two girls had great fun talking and watching TV. One of the movies that played as we visited was "Zapped" a cheese-tastic 80's flick which starred Scott Baio and Willie Aames. There'd be less time for fun the next day, but I was still looking forward to it.

We got up nice and early and headed to the center where the assembly for area Jehovah's Witnesses was taking place. We would be among hundreds of others who had the exact same views as us; one is not allowed to question the Witnesses' beliefs once baptized with them (even when the head honchos decide to change their minds about various issues; they call this "new light").

The real fun was had that evening as we looked for a place to eat. As we drew closer to the city's restaurant row, one of my favorite songs came on the radio: The Tubes' "She's A Beauty". To this day, listening to it takes me back to that summer evening.

We ended up eating at Showbiz Pizza, a choice I was ecstatic with as they had video games there. One of the newest games was Dragon's Lair. Instead of having typical video game graphics, it was animated like a cartoon. They also had MACH 3 which was a breakthrough game in that it used actual footage shot in a desert.



All this new technology made me happy that I was growing up when I was.

The next day, it was back to the assembly. Something interesting happened to me while there. I was sitting next to Melanie watching a drama; this is when Witnesses put on clothes from Biblical times and act out various things that occurred in the Bible.

At one point, I felt her foot on mine. I moved mine away, figuring she had accidentally moved hers there. A minute later, she again put her foot on mine. This time, I kept mine in place and quite enjoyed the sensation. I was now certain that she liked me (despite the saliva incident) and it felt great.

Later, we ate at Bobs' Big Boy where I had a juicy burger. Four of us kids had a booth to ourselves. As was typical in those days, there was a jukebox in which popular songs of the day could be played; Melanie played a popular country-pop song called "Snapshot".

As we headed home and I saw her resting on the other side of the car, my feelings were bittersweet. I was joyous that someone was taking an interest in me, but sad that we probably wouldn't be able to spend much time together in the months ahead; school would be starting soon.

As we drew closer to Winona, I saw a light coming from Sugar Loaf (it's the rock that's pictured on the cover of my book). I then remembered recently hearing that lights had been installed there; it was nice to see it all lit up. Melanie was woken up by our murmuring and though tired, also marveled at the sight. Though our trip was now over, I'd had a taste of love and looked forward to getting more of it in the future.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 4

It took me a while to get to sleep on Saturday night, in no small part, I'm sure, because of the full day I had. Thus, when my alarm went off at around 7, I decided that I would miss the first speaker or two of the day. It wouldn't be a huge loss, I thought, after seeing five speakers the day before. Something made me get up and take a shower, however, and I'm glad I did. As I left the room, I again attached the "Tranquility" sign to the door. I felt no need for housekeeping to clean the sheets or switch out towels for the entire time I was there.

Debbie Ford, whose primary claim to fame is as a proponent of bringing forth our shadow self, that is, the parts of us that we don't want others to know about, came out just before 8:30am. I can be seen in the 2nd row of the picture below wearing my Buddhist-monk-wannabe orange long-sleeved shirt. Debbie is standing at the keyboard next to a redheaded musician.



There was an even smaller percentage of men in Ford's clinic than there was for the conference at-large. Nonetheless, I was quite interested in learning about the Dark (Shadow) Side. I wasn't as taken with her humor as others, but that's probably because her jokes favored a different sense of humor, the type that women typically get more out of.

One of her main points is that if we repress any part of ourselves, that aspect seeks to be expressed in some way. It's best, she said, to claim that part of yourself and to let it speak. Over the last 20 minutes, we did an exercise where we took a part of ourselves that we didn't like and told it that we loved it, that we understood why it did the things it did. I could hear tears being shed as the meditation continued.

The most cathartic was the ending when Ford told us to embrace the person next to us and say, "My love for you is unconditional". I melted into the young lady next to me and we held each other for at least 30 seconds. I didn't know that person, but I couldn't help but feel deep love for her. It was remarkable. Ford then told us to hug another, then still others. The room was healing before my very eyes and I could now see why so many felt that Ford was da bomb.

Afterward, I had her sign my copy of her first book, a book that I never finshed, but may complete now that I've seen what she's capable of. She asked what I thought of the exercise. I said, in a somewhat clinical tone, "It was very effective. Thank you".

The next big shot I was scheduled to see was Michael Traub, a guy who was said to be able to channel a spirit named O'Brien. I wanted, however, to see Michael Tamura again. He had given me so many laughs the day before that I wanted more. Walking to where people were letting him in, I saw that it wasn't just any old volunteer looking to see if the people coming in had Tamura's name on it. No, it was the lady in charge of the whole kit and kaboodle.

Not wanting to mess with her, I headed over to see the other Michael. I found a seat in the 3rd row and looked forward to seeing a real-life channeler. Traub described how he cultivated the ability to do this, to allow a spirit to take over and speak through him while he, Traub, was in, as he described it, some type of blissful netherworld.



We were warned that O'Brien had a very playful sense of humor which was more than fine with me. Traub said that people shouldn't ask him after it was over what he thought about the session as he would have no idea what they were talking about. When he opened his eyes, he said, it would be like if someone woke you up from a nap, but with dozens of people looking at you. The more he talked about the process, the more I wanted to experience O'Brien and let me tell you it was quite a treat.

At first, just a few hands went up, but when the audience realized that they might be able to get answers to spiritual questions they'd been having about their life and loved ones, more than half the room had their hands outstretched. I raised my hand not once the entire weekend. I had no questions at all. I was, as the kids like to say, "Good".

One thirty-something black man asked what he might do to have a more rewarding life. O'Brien said that he doesn't typically say this, but that the man would benefit most from a long-term relationship. A lady who came with her twin asked if they had been together in previous lifetimes. O'Brien said, "Yes", and that they would continue to do so, that having a twin was one of the closest relationships possible. An older lady was wondering if she'd ever find Mr. Right. O'Brien said, "Are you familiar with ----?" (the man who needed to get into a relationship pronto). Another asked if her family's business would be up and running by 2011. He said, "Yes, you will get the business off the ground before the world is destroyed" (alluding to the 2012 predictions). I laughed heartily at that one. He talked about going "on-line" as if he were only vaguely familiar with it, almost as if it were still a somewhat unknown thing in the spirit world.

Someone asked about a car accident and O'Brien said that sometimes "accidents" happen, that the person who died in the crash hadn't intended to. This was news to me as I'm of the belief that nothing happens without the soul's permission, if you will. Something happening that's not supposed to, would, in my mind, make it seem as if God had made a mistake, which I don't think is possible. But that's just me. I was all smiles as Traub came out of the trance to much applause. I was asked later if what Traub did appeared to be authentic. I said that it did.

After a light lunch, it was time for another 90 minutes with Neale. Again, he came out early to greet others. I was pleased that he had some stuff I hadn't heard before. He mentioned "The Secret", probably the biggest-selling "spiritual" book of the last few years. He felt that it relied too much on getting material things. It showed a guy manifesting a new car, a woman getting diamonds, and even a kid getting a shiny bike. I chuckled as he said these things as I'd had the same problem with the book. Neale asked where the wishes were for world peace, for loving everyone, for sharing with others as opposed to obtaining.

He concluded with three ways that the kingdom of God could be brought to the Earth: first, by looking into another's eyes for more than three seconds. Just then, I looked back at a woman for a few seconds. I didn't really do it the way Neale intended, though, as I also tilted my head a bit like Larry David does when he's looking into a person's eyes to see if they're lying to him. Guess I'll have to work on that. The second step is to smile at that person. "This is dangerous stuff", he said. Finally, if appropriate, touch that person. A simple touch on the shoulder can do wonders for the recipient, especially if they are having a rough day, or life, for that matter.

As he signed books a short time later, I asked if I could have a pic taken of he and me. His wife said, "Do you want the three of us or just the big guy?" I said the three of us would be great and so it was done.

As I waited in line, a short time later, for Deepak Chopra's keynote, I struck up a conversation with a young teacher. She said it was the first time she'd been at the event and was so glad that she came. The sweetness of the people I met over the weekend just cannot be overstated.

Deepak's speech would be the end of the road for most of the people there; only a few hundred would be staying for the post-conference workshops. I'd seen Chopra two summers before, but he brought some new stuff to the table.

In particular, he had a chart on what specific things made people happy. At one point, he asked, "What makes people more happy, shopping or sex?" I shouted out, "Chocolate". He also showed a twenty minute video of a brain scientist who had a stroke and was privy to what it's like to let go of the analytical mind while it was occuring. Her bliss was so great as her brain was hemorraging that she was tempted to not seek help. She said we can access this place of peace anytime and wrote a book about it called "My Stroke of Insight". Once his keynote ended, I had him sign a book of his called "The Way of the Wizard", a work that my mother had given me in 1995!

I headed back up to my room for a short time where I sought to relax before going out for a bite to eat. I looked out at the spectacular pre-sunset. Planes flew back and forth in the skies, Lombard being but a dozen or so miles from O'Hare airport. I felt a surge of bliss as I simply laid on my bed looking out from the fifth floor.

A half hour later, I set out for Popeye's. Having my first taste of it three days before, I wanted to experience it once more before leaving Illinois. I'm not sure if it was the food itself, the spiritual high I was on, or some combination of both, but that meal was one of the best I've ever had. I took at least 15 minutes to eat a breast, a wing, and a corn on the cob. I was in awe at just how good it all tasted, "Wow" being the word that was going through my mind most frequently.

I walked back into the hotel lobby a short time later and looked to see if anyone I knew was at the bar. On the way in, I noticed Neale sitting at a table in the hotel's restaurant with a number of other guests, having a jolly good time. I also noticed Michael Tamura and his wife near the entrance. You gotta love the accessibility that the conference offers. I was tempted to go up to Tamura and tell him how incredibly funny I found him, but felt an email would suffice.

I walked back toward the ballrooms to see where the following day's conference would be. While strolling there, I noticed a lady breast feeding her baby, but with her breast fully exposed. Not wanting to do a double take, I continued on my way. After reading some more of "Kick Me" while seated in the lobby, I headed up to bed for my last night of pleasure at Celebrate Your Life.

In Minnesota Meanderings, Thomas Dixon discusses the most formative experiences of his life. Spanning nearly 40 years, his unique insights will change the way you look at the world.

Click here and then go to "Preview" to view the first 10 pages.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 3

I slept great on Friday night, so my Saturday shower wasn't as transcendent as the day before, but I was sure to get a spiritual high with five speakers on the docket. It began at 9am with a lady named Sonia Choquette.



I'd never seen her before or read her stuff. If there's one person whose seminar I wouldn't have minded missing, it would be hers. However, by the time her spiel ended at 10:30, I knew hers would be one of my absolute faves of the weekend.

The first thing I noted was that she looked and sounded like actress and wife to Ted Danson, Mary Steenbergen. I'd always found Steenbergen's voice kinda irritating, but coming from Sonia, I didn't mind as much. She had us do a few breathing exercises and then made us stand up and start dancing a bit as this skinny young guy in green who looked to be in his 20's came up to the stage and starting getting super-jiggy with it. His energy was very infectious. Check him out at 4:07 of this video from last year.

She told us to rub the shoulders of the person to our right, then give karate-type chops to their shoulders, then the same to the person on our left. But even more profound was an exercise called the breath of life in which, for 4 minutes, we raise our arms to the sky, utter a one-word syllable, lower the arms, then raise them again. She said two minutes into it, we would feel like we were dying because our arms would get so sore which was certainly the case for me, but seeing everybody else doing it, I followed along. I was NOT going to be the one who quit on it.

The four minutes ended and the feeling was incredible. I felt completely alive and most notably, completely in the present moment. It was an extremely blissful feeling and one she said could be achieved every day of our lives if we just took the four minutes to do it. I really don't recall much of what she said; I don't take notes during these things and Sonia actually had a requirement that no one else do so, either. Click on the above link for deets on the kinds of things she typically talks about.

Suitably pumped, the next speaker on my list was Neale Donald Walsch, the author of "Conversations with God". I'd last seen him speak last June at the same conference. I found a seat in the second row next to one of the ladies I'd met the night before. Ten minutes before the seminar was to start, Neale and his wife did something that none of the other speakers that I saw did during this time: they went up to people and warmly greeted them, had pictures taken, exchanged energy. It was during this time that Neale's wife looked in my direction with a look of recognition and a smile on her face and said, "Hi". I looked behind me, then pointed at myself and said, "Me?" I guess I was underestimating her ability to remember me from the 5-day retreat I'd spent with them in Oregon at the end of 2008. About twenty minutes into Neale's talk, he looked at me, stopped, and said, "Hi". I nodded my head and he said, "It's nice to see friends".

This would be the first of three consecutive days that I would be seeing Neale and it'd gotten off to a great start. One of the things he discussed was being told as a child that he was extremely fortunate to be in the situation he was in, that is, first of all, he was an American, which in the postwar era, was the place you'd wanna be. Not only that, but he was a Catholic, which was God's one true religion. In addition, he was white and a male! Talk about having the deck stacked in your favor. He spoke of how he eventually grew dissatisfied with the "I'm superior to you because of this" theory of life. When the 90 minutes were up, I lined up to get a couple of his books signed.



I mentioned that my wife wasn't able to attend this time, but gave her regards. I also said that I looked forward to Monday's all-day workshop. And with that, it was lunch time.

I met up with a couple of the girls from earlier and had a box lunch which consisted of a turkey wrap, a small bag of Lay's potato chips, an apple, and a Shasta. Just kidding about the Shasta. I remember being served that as a kid when I went to the Jehovah's Witnesses assemblies.

Before the next speaker began, a forty-something man with a guitar came out and regaled us with a song he wrote about love. He reminded me of Terry Jacks, the man who sang the 70's classic "Seasons in the Sun". I thought of a cool comment to give to the lady sitting next to me, but waited until he finished singing. The comment was all the more appropriate when he ended by saying, with complete sincerity and a smile on his face, "Have a great day!" As he left the stage, I turned and said "Why do I feel like we've time traveled to 1975?"

A moment later, Gary Zukav, a frequent visitor to Oprah, but a bit too undynamic for me, though he reminds me of Harrison Ford and has a kick-ass last name, came out. He talked mostly of spiritual partnerships, relationships that we have with others that cause us to grow spiritually. He said that all long-term relationships are challenging, but in most cases, worthwhile. He opined that the most profound relationship in our life is usually with our parents and/or kids. Tremendous growth can be found by working especially close on these relationships. One lady asked if all this talk of spiritual partnerships meant that he was against marriage. He replied that he wasn't, though, he saw no reason for people to live together if things started getting intolerable for one of the parties or if the woman gained 50 pounds.

As I left the ballroom to go to the next workshop, I noticed a young lady that had a sign next to her that said, "Free Hugs". She looked at me and said, "Would you like a hug?". I said, "Why not?" and embraced her. I wondered if she asked everyone if they'd like a hug or asked me because she was in the mood to get one from a guy; probably 20% of the participants there were men.

After a short break, the next speaker I was scheduled to see was a man named Michael Tamura.

He said that he has died twice and having done so, has no fear of passing on. He mentioned the healing he does for others in his dreams and was incredibly funny. He talked of a friend who said he wanted to kill himself. Tamura said that if that was his wish, he should do so. He even allegedly said to the person, "Here's a knife." Then he addressed the audience and said, "I like to be helpful". I was rolling in the aisle at that point.

More seriously, he told the man that if he did follow through, that he would just have to come back into the life again and live it without falling back on the "Poor me" schtick. When I was suicidal in 1993, one of the fears I had about killing myself was having to make up for the spiritual transgression. I wanted everything to go dark when I died, but feared this wouldn't be the case.

Near the latter part of the session, he did a meditation with us. I tried to focus, but he was just too funny. He had us visualize a rose and a moment later, told us to shoot at it and made this laser-like sound effect. Then he commented on how the sound effect really sells it. I started chuckling again and every time he made the sound, I started laughing, though not too loudly as I knew others were trying to concentrate. I kinda wished I'd been able to get something more out of the meditation, but laughter is a good thing as well. The lady next to me said she was going to be doing an all-day with Tamura on Monday. I began to toy with the idea of skipping out on Neale and seeing him as well.

For the dinner break, I ate at an on-site restaurant called Harry Carey's with two of the women I'd met. As we waited to get a table, I noticed the man in charge of reservations had a bunch of cuts on his face. I asked him if he was in a fight or if his wife had thrown him down the stairs. He said the marks weren't from a fight, but that he did look pretty beat up some time ago when he tried to stop his wife from falling down some stairs and wound up tumbling down them instead. One of the ladies asked how I knew that his wife had caused him to have such injuries, if I was an intuitive. I said that I didn't know that, that I always asked people that look like they'd been in a fight if their spouse had caused it. She said she admired how I said the things that she thought, but wouldn't typically think of actually saying.

The other lady we were with was still buzzing over having seen Gregg Braden who spoke of 2012. She elucidated on how the Mayan calendar was set up so that mighty big things would be happening on December 21, 2012. I don't really believe that malarkey, but found a good way to make a joke about it. I said, "Well, if Sarah Palin were to be elected President in November of 2012, then the world ending the following month wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing." She didn't laugh too heartily at that one. Perhaps I offended.

The last speaker of the night was James Van Praagh, a somewhat vertically-challenged psychic who referred to himself as a "small medium at large". He gave a quick run-down on how he became aware of his powers before spending most of the time giving readings for spirits he was seeing in the room. This was another guy who made me laugh a number of times not least when he was giving a reading and said, "Hold on a moment while I take a sip of this vod, uh, coffee". In most cases, he was dead-on with what he was relaying to those who'd lost loved ones.