CHAPTER 1

One of the aspects of life I find most fascinating is the conceptof aging, and how our perception of age changes, as we growolder. When I was in the Fifth Grade a senior from high schoolcame into class to assist the teacher, my mother. I remember him lookingso much older, so adult. At sixty years of age, I look at high schoolseniors and find it hard to believe they will soon have to face the trialsof the adult world. They seem so young.

The way in which perspective and perception so subtly form andreform our individual picture of reality as we pass through life is anincredible phenomenon to observe. A close examination of these changeshelps to develop a fuller awareness of that consciousness within myself,that portion of me more consistent through time than other aspects ofmy being.

I remember my mother trying to tell me about this phenomenonwhen she was around 55 years of age. She remarked how she didn't feelany different, any older in her mind, that conscious portion of herself atthe center of her sensory awareness. She was more tired at times. Maybecouldn't remember quite as well, but her awareness of, and presencein the moment had never noticeably changed. I had to grow some tounderstand what she was saying about the nature of consciousness.

My education in these matters of understanding and awareness tooka big leap in my junior year in high school. While sitting in physics classone day I began to perceive a larger, more detailed picture of our reality.My teacher in this class, Mr. Spoelman, who doubled as superintendentfor the school, was the kind of guy who could explain the more difficultconcepts.

The obstacle for me to overcome in this particular epiphany wasthe realization that my own body was composed of those commoninfinitesimal particles that form our world. The atoms, electrons, protons,and neutrons studied in my earlier, more elementary science classes.

I had been raised in the church, and had come to think of myself asbeing composed of some more ethereal material, different from all therocks, trees and even animals. I remember that moment of revelationwell. My living, breathing, even thinking and feeling organism wascomposed of the same atoms and elements as everything else in theworld around me. I felt diminished somehow.

This incident shook me awake, and led me to question everythingabout the reality I had previously accepted with the ignorant innocenceof youth. As this search for the truth expanded and progressed, itbecame more focused on the nature of my personal reality and thevalidity of my religious influences. Why, what and who am I as a humanbeing here on Earth? What is the source of it all?

Even before this I had been curious about the true nature of ourexistence, and the complete picture of what it means to be human.My curiosity about the religious/spiritual aspect of life first led me toan exploration of Greek mythology. Spending time in the Sixth andSeventh Grades seeking out books on the subject. I loved the storiesand the characters in them. I can recall wondering at the time if thesemonsters and gods were part of some former ancient reality, a predecessorof the world and religion I knew. These and other readings had, by thetime I was near the end of high school, given me a broader perspectiveon the belief system of my own liberally Protestant religion.

I had been programmed to accept this religion's beliefs. My parentshelped me to have year after year of near perfect attendance in Sundayschool. I have a string of gold and ceramic medals, neatly crafted toconnect in a descending chain, and a couple of Bibles, as my rewardfor their effort. This belief system was really all I was ever exposed to,so that was how it must be. Every now and then I would try to lookbeyond the borders of those beliefs. Like my interest in mythology, or anunsettling question for whatever Sunday school teacher was strugglingto hold my interest.

One belief held by this religion involved the concept of pre-destination. Essentially, this belief means that before we are ever bornGod knows our entire life story. Even though we have free will in thislife, He knows whether we will be going to Heaven or Hell. There wassomething about this concept that didn't fit in with the beliefs aboutdivine love and justice this religion also claimed.

How could this God create and claim to love me, and then because of thepossibility of a few mistakes in my short time as a human being, condemn meto the Eternal Fires of Hell? Knowing as He created me I was going toburn in the end. It left me with the feeling of an apparent and senselessinjustice as defined in those beliefs. If He really loved me, He wouldn'ttreat me that way.

Combine my resentment of this injustice with the disappointmentof finding my body's composition to be less than divine, and I knew Ineeded to find a more complete and rational understanding of myselfas a human being here on this planet, in this Universe. Holding onblindly to faith in an inherited, rigid doctrine of belief was no longersufficient.

I didn't realize at the time how long that might take, or how deeplydisturbing and transforming this pursuit of knowledge might be. It'snot easy to deny a deeply ingrained belief in guilt and punishment thatis substantially reinforced by the unforgiving consequence of Hell.

CHAPTER 2

As a junior in high school I arranged for my Sunday schoolclass to attend a Mass at a Catholic church in the nearby townof Bellaire. This was in the mid-Sixties and at that time therewere still some weighty theological and social differences between evenProtestants and Catholics, two Christ-based religions. Among otherissues, this led to variations in what were considered socially acceptablebehaviors.

In Ellsworth, my little town, the church was a large part of thesocial life. Those matters and events the churches didn't control directly,the force of their influence still ruled. The issue I resented the most wasan absolute ban on dancing. Teenagers shouldn't get that close whileface-to-face with each other. This, and my growing need for a broadervariety of activities, led me down the road to Bellaire at quite an earlyage.

I happened to be blessed, at least in this aspect of our relationship,with an older brother whose then current love interest lived in Mancelona,a town beyond Bellaire. On Saturday night beginning as a freshman inhigh school, before I was old enough to drive, he would take me as far asBellaire and drop me off in the center of town. Leaving me to entertainmyself until he passed through on his way back home. I was completelyamazed my parents trusted me enough to allow this.

Not only did Bellaire have a movie theatre, every Saturday night adisc jockey named Lee Lyons from Grand Rapids, in the lower part ofMichigan, would come to Bellaire to put on a dance. I could take in amovie and then walk a block down the street to the record hop and getto know the locals.

I actually knew a couple of people my age in Bellaire. My familyhad rented a house there the last semester of the year I was in the FirstGrade, before we bought the farm in Ellsworth. We had moved up fromHolland in the southern part of the state for a job my father had foundin the area. In addition to that, before he fell in love my older brotherhad spent some time at these dances. All of these factors helped me toreintroduce myself into the social life of Bellaire. I spent most my freetime in Bellaire once I was old enough to control that area of my life.

When I arranged for my Sunday school class to travel to the landof the Catholics I was, in part, trying to extend my weekend social life.A few of the girls I had gotten to know at the dances were in the groupthat was hosting our visit. Catching a glimpse of this other religion andits worship service was still a serious interest for me.

The mass had some similarities to our service, singing hymns,prayers, and a message delivered by the priest. The lighting of incense,occasional kneeling, figures of Mary and the saints, and the dead Christon the Cross, were all quite different from the perspective of my group.After the service we met with the corresponding youth group to discussthe differences in our two Christ-based religions.

I found Purgatory a much more interesting point to discuss. Theconcept of an afterlife halfway house that wasn't Heaven, and really alittle more like Hell, was totally foreign to our belief system. It seemedkind of like God doesn't know what to do with you so he says, "Waithere, I'll get back to you".

According to our beliefs you were either in or out when it came toentering Heaven. This seemed an important distinction to me.

How could the Roman Catholic Church, with many more members thanmy church world wide, believe in something my religion didn't mention?How could two Christ-based churches differ so distinctly on an issue so centralto the concept of life after death? What did these religions really know aboutthe reality of our existence? Why should I accept what they believe if theydon't know?

It seemed more like these great pillars of belief were just abstractinstitutions of like-thinking groups of people. With the issues ofpersonal politics, and the beneficial economics of a frequent presenceat church services playing a substantial role in attendance.

I didn't take any of this too seriously at that point in my life. I justregistered the awareness and moved on with the priorities a young manhas at that age. My next notable adventure in religion would presentmore of a question for the church than for me.

When I was in the second year of study at Northwestern MichiganCollege in Traverse City, close enough to allow me to be home everyweekend, the minister of our church asked me to teach the third andfourth grade Sunday school class. He and I had a good relationship builton the years spent in his classes. He felt I would be great for the job.

I didn't turn him down even though this was kind of a bad periodfor me with schoolwork, my first serious romance, and even the loss ofmy virginity finally just after turning 20 years old. I know some of thechurch fathers questioned his choice. The real trouble came once I hadbeen teaching the class for a couple of months.

I began the class wanting to be more effective, more interestingthan some of the Sunday school teachers in my own experience. Yet,I found it hard to motivate my students to learn. These boys and girlswere old enough to have grown beyond any sense of reward with theseblue, red, silver, and gold stars used as symbols of accomplishment. Ineeded something with a greater power to motivate these children ofour capitalist system and chose to use pennies, nickels, and dimes.

In retrospect, I might have worked more on my weekly presentation,but didn't really have the time for it. There was a reasonable doubt theextra effort would have worked with third and fourth graders who justhad to sit through a full church service.

Pay to learn; I hear some inner city schools are now, forty years later,just beginning to experiment with the idea and getting good results. In1969 it was a little ahead of its time, at least in a religious setting.

I got great results with this idea. Attendance bumped up some andthose who showed up knew their lessons. When I would ask a questionevery hand in the room would reach for the sky. It made the class mucheasier to teach. The kids weren't distracted and harassing each other.They actually learned the lessons I was entrusted with somehow gettingthem to absorb. But, it wasn't too long before I was called in to discussmy methodology.

My minister quietly asked me about the line of thought used toarrive at the conclusions that led to my system of reward. It was a politediscussion. I tried to defend my approach by claiming that if my studentsweren't already conditioned to the power of money my plan wouldn'thave worked. That I was working within a pre-existing framework ofbeliefs and it was all quite a success.

He allowed me to finish the couple of months left to the summerbreak with no need for changes in my methods. I agreed with this lineof thinking and finished my term as teacher.

It was the look in his eyes when I left his office that stayed with me.I felt I had lost some of the respect he had for me as a sincere studentof the religion we shared.

CHAPTER 3

The following Fall I transferred on to MichiganTechnological University at the western end of Michigan'sUpper Peninsula to study Applied Geophysics. MTU had a greatreputation for science and math and those were my best subjects. TheApplied Geophysics came from studying their catalog of possible majorsand choosing one that had the right appeal for me.

The process of choosing a major area of study seemed to be at bestirrelevant, and at worst irrational. I had no idea what was being offeredto me by the list of majors in a school's catalog. The counselor at myjunior college was of little help in relating what the various choices I wasconsidering might actually lead to with respect to studies and a futurein the real world.

The deciding factor in my attending college was the gruesomereality of the war America was waging at the time in Vietnam. Myparents talked me into attending college with the words, "We don'twant you to end up as cannon fodder". In the time since I had startedcollege one of my friends had been severely wounded and another haddied in Vietnam.

My thoughts on the war had taken a complete 180-degree turn.From a kid raised on war hero movies based on WWII, to someonewho could clearly see the insanity of dying in the mire of a meaninglessmilitary action on the other side of the world. It was also beginning toappear that our government wasn't always inclined to do the right thingfor the right reason. This war was making America appear even moreugly than the shooting deaths of John and Robert Kennedy, and MartinLuther King had over the previous decade.

Near the end of my first term at Tech, America held its first draftlottery. It took place in early December. This lottery was to replace theold locally based, and politically duplicitous system of drafting menfor the army. This new system also removed the need for a studentdeferment, if you happen to win. This deferment allowed people like mewho had, as part of their consideration in the matter, gone to college toavoid being drafted and sent to war.

My birthday was chosen number 355, a virtual guarantee I wouldnot be drafted. It was hard to believe my good luck and the freedomof choice that number brought with it. I had never won any kind oflottery before, haven't since, but winning that lottery might have meantmy life.

I left school after finals feeling that freedom. Thoughts of quittingschool and spending the winter skiing in the mountains out Westwere dancing in my head. Before I left, a friend traded me some of mytextbooks for something that was supposed to be marijuana. This wasto satisfy a request from my high school girlfriend back home.

I had done some drinking after finishing football in high school andjunior college, but had never really considered smoking pot. The peoplewho were smoking pot didn't impress me as someone I had thingsin common with. Granted a Christian upbringing had left me in aseriously judgmental space, and maybe a little threatened by unfamiliarconcepts.

There had also been a TV program that made marijuana and heroinseem like very closely related drugs. That `fact' made me quite wary ofpot, despite never noticing anything too unusual in the behavior of thosewho were rumored to be using.

CHAPTER 4

The Christmas Break from Michigan Tech started out witha stop to see my father at his new job. He had always beenindependently self-employed before. Now he was managing anestablished construction company in Ellsworth. I stopped on the wayhome from school to let him know I was thinking of not going back, andwas wondering if there was any chance for temporary employment withthis new company. Before he had been offered this job I had always beenable to find some work with him when I was on break from school.

He wasn't too happy with the idea of quitting Tech and wanted meto reconsider the idea. And yes, work would be scarce because of hisnew situation. It was winter and carpentry was always hard to find thattime of the year.