Back to School Part 1

I was having a pretty fun life during the mid-90s, living at home, working at a comic book store, seeing my fiance on the weekends, and partying with my friends at night. I didn't have any expenses except for my own fun and I was such good friends with my manager that I could sleep off hangovers in the back room of the store during work hours. Life was easy, and that wedding date was a couple years away. But then the comic store closed and my half-assed attempts at creative projects never panned out. So I got married and moved to San Diego with no job and no prospects. I guess I just thought that everything would just eventually work out. Somehow we would get by.

My wife had just got her degree and was starting a Teacher Credential program while waitressing part-time. I just got another menial retail job. I think at this stage I was already memorizing quotes that appealed to me but I never thought of them as a religion. My wife is the best because she never once forced me to find a career and make something of myself. She was real subtle with questions like: "Don't you want to have kids?" Yeah. "Don't you want to have a house?" Sure. "Then we're going to need more money than this." I always thought of maybe getting some kind of warehouse job that paid better and never really gave much thought to going back to school. Then one day we were hanging out with another couple who happened to be college graduates. It was like something out of a bad sitcom, they were all talking and laughing about stuff and I was totally clueless. They were talking about science stuff (all science majors) so I wouldn't have understood even if I had gone to college, but this incident was the first time I actually said to myself "Maybe I should go back to school." I suddenly got this urge to learn again after a six year hiatus and decided to register at the local community college. My wife offered the ultimate support. "Don't overwhelm yourself. Take night classes so you're classmates will be mostly adults. Only take two classes on topics that you want to know more about. But make sure that all of your units are transferable to a university." Perfect advice. My first two classes were Geology and Ancient Civilizations, and once I started there was no looking back.

In junior college I really enjoyed classes in History and the Humanities. I took courses on foreign cultures as well as the required math and sciences. I knew I was going to transfer to a university, but which one? And what major? My wonderful wife stepped in again to help focus me. "What do you really enjoy? What could you do for the next 30 years?" Working at the comic store was my all time favorite job. I liked being around the books and organizing them, hell, even helping the customers wasn't too bad. Why not work in a library? There is only a Master's Degree for Library and Information Science so I had a lot of schooling ahead of me. I contacted a Library Science program and found out that my Bachelor's Degree was just a piece of paper to get me into the Master's program so I could major in any subject I wanted. I figured English or Literature would be a good foundation since there wasn't a degree in Humanities. So I finished all my transferable units and set off to university with the plan of getting a degree in Literature with a focus on the German language.

Run and Play

Like all parents, Mrs. Hughes had high hopes for her son. But Bob Hughes had his own plans. By the time he was a teenager he was a drug addict and small time criminal. He ran around with his childhood girlfriend, Diane, and together they formed a small crew with fellow addicts, Rick and Nadine, dedicated to stealing and getting high. The crew robbed drugstores and hospitals all over Portland and were constantly on the move due to police harassment. Whenever Bob needed anything he would stop in to see his mother. But Mrs. Hughes knew she had a dope-fiend, thief of a son and tried to keep him away, even going so far as to hide her purse when he showed up. But she couldn't completely abandon him. After the police trashed the crew's place during a raid, Bob and Diane headed over to his mom's to retrieve some new clothes. Mrs. Hughes berated him for the life he was living which led Diane to ask her why she hated them so much.

"I don't hate you, Diane. And I don't hate Robert either. And the Good Lord knows that to be the truth. I truly feel pity for you both. You are grown up now, and yet you still act as children who want to do nothing but run and play. You cannot run and play all your life, Diane."
Mrs. Hughes
Drugstore Cowboy, 1989

I miss being a kid. Being a kid is the greatest time in a person's life. Everything is new. You're taken care of. Your only job is to learn and have fun. Who would ever want to leave that? It's hard to grow up. It's hard to take that step into maturity when you are totally responsible for yourself. I remember that transition from teen to young adult when I had no other plan than to continue hanging out with my friends. "I'll just get a job, work when I have to, and have a good time every other minute. Future? What future? You mean I'm going to get older and I have to plan for that? But I still want to be a kid. I still want that freedom to run and play." Too bad, son, welcome to real life.

I tried to ignore this harsh reality, but eventually I had to wake up to it. As I struggled with this stage in my life, the kindly advice of Mrs. Hughes jumped out at me. I suddenly realized that I would have to grow up and take care of myself. I have to work so I can have money, so I can have a place to live, so I can have food, so I can have "things." If you want "things" in this life you have to work for them. You can't just wait for something to happen. You can't just rely on others to take care of you. You have to take responsibility for yourself. You can still think and act like a kid (we all should to keep ourselves young), but you have to be able to take care of yourself first. You can't run and play all your life.

A History of Atheism

Many historians and sociologists of religion view the whole practice as the search for a father figure. Humans long for that time when life was simple and parents had all the answers. People need the comfort of an authority figure and in many cultures that authority is the father. (My suggestion is to become a parent and you'll find out you don't know shit, you just act like you do.) Religion is learned from the parents which is why most people accept the authority without question until they get old enough to figure out that they don't have to do everything their parents say. We can make our own decisions. The teenage years are when people strive for their own identity and often leave their family religion to seek their own answers. Tradition and the desire for an authority figure often lead them back to religion.

I never had a father. My biological father (or sperm donor as my mom refers to him) left, luckily for me, before I was born. The father figure in my life was my maternal grandfather. He grew up on a farm in North Dakota doing farm labor and hunting pheasants and ended up in sunny Southern California working for McDonnell-Douglas building airplanes (Thank you, Grandpa. I've never had to live through a Dakota winter.) My grandparents lived nearby when I was growing up and, although we saw them regularly, I didn't listen and learn from him as much as I should have. He had a backyard full of fruit trees where I learned to love plums and boysenberries. He taught me and my brothers to shoot a BB gun and even took us shooting once where we fired the .22 rifle he got at age 9. He made home brew (with our help) and plum wine and let us sip his beer. He took us to the Eagle's Lodge where he drank with his friends while we played video games. He'd "blow the cobwebs" out of his car while barrelling down residential streets. He was intelligent, strong, hard-working, and loved to laugh. He was everything I hope to be as a father and a grandfather.

He was taken from me when I needed him most. I was 15 years old. He had retired from Douglas but couldn't sit idle so he worked for a car rental company that sent out drivers to retrieve automobiles left in other states. On a return trip, a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the center divide, and hit him head-on, killing him instantly. I think now that he rides with all of us when we drive. A few years ago, my brother walked away from an horrific crash without a scratch, even the police and paramedics were amazed. I know he's with me but I wish he could answer my questions. I'd love to hear more about his life but, more importantly, about his philosophy. My grandpa was an atheist. I'd love to discuss this with him. He was an atheist during the mid-twentieth century at a time when religion was extremely important. How did he come to his conclusions? How often did he express his views? How could he have influenced this journey that I've trod alone?

I wish he could meet me now. I wish he could meet my wife and kids. I wish we could sit with a beer and talk long into the evening. I miss you, Gramps. I love you.

Plate of Shrimp

Last time, I mentioned that strange little synchronicities were happening in my life that I could no longer ignore and had to acknowledge. When I was studying religion in college, which was years later, I mentioned these experiences to my favorite professor, and, while not totally discrediting them, he explained that our brains are designed to look for and find patterns. I can understand this but it makes it sound as if I was forcing the patterns rather than just noticing uncanny connections. My experiences usually involved a thought in my head manifesting itself in reality, like my friend finishing a song I was singing in my head. I can see my professor's point in instances of starting to like a song and then hearing it everywhere I go such as on the car radio or in department stores. The song was now in my consciousness so I was able to recognize it. (But for me this leads to the deeper philosophical question of whether the song existed before it entered my consciousness, more on that later.) But my little coincidences had a much greater depth.

For example, in 1989 I saw the early Wayan's brother comedy, I'm Gonna Git You, Sucka! ( I highly recommend it). In the film, a character named Kung-Fu Joe starts whippin' ass and the song "Kung-Fu Fighting" by Carl Douglas plays. I had to get my hands on that song. This was long before the 70s revival of the 1990s and I went on many fruitless searches in every store that sold music. One day, I'm in a Wherehouse and I hear a song playing that I instantly liked, "Magic" by the band Pilot. I rushed to the counter where they had the "Now Playing" display and saw a CD called Super Hits of the 70s: Have a Nice Day Volume 14. I remember thinking "I like this song, but a whole CD of 70s pop? Could it be any good?" I looked at the song list and the number one track was "Kung-Fu Fighting." I bought it immediately. I enjoyed every song on that volume and developed a love for bad 70s pop ballads and novelty songs. I now own almost all of the 24 volume series. It was little incidences like this that began to occur regularly in my life. A minor dalliance leading to a great discovery. Why did I like that song? Why was that CD playing? Why does it have the song I've been scouring music stores for? I had to try to answer these questions.

In the course of preparing this piece, I was reminded of a movie from my youth. We watched Repo Man because the main character was a punk rocker but I was instantly mesmerized by the old burnout, Miller. We used to quote lines from the movie and there was one that I used to love (my brother can attest to it) because I thought it was funny, not because I thought it contained some philosophical truth. To hear it now is kind of scary as it succinctly captures my current life philosophy. Did I unconsciously base my entire way of thinking on this? Like I said, my life is filled with complex synchronicities like a funny teenage obsession turning into the blueprint for a philosophy later in life. Enjoy.

"A lot of people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch of unconnected incidences and things. They don't realize that there's this like... lattice of coincidence that lays on top of everything. I'll give you an example, show you what I mean. Suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly somebody will say like plate...or shrimp...or plate of shrimp. Out of the blue, no explanation. No point in looking for one either. It's all part of a cosmic unconsciousness."
Miller
Repo Man, 1984

P.S. My brother and I to this day still say "shrimp...or plate of shrimp" when an odd coincidence occurs that we both acknowledge.

The Search Begins

After high school, I didn't have much of a plan in terms of a career. I just worked menial jobs, hung out with my friends, and saw my girlfriend on the weekend. Religion/spirituality was the last thing on my mind. I could never be swayed by any established religion because my mind was always asking "Why? By whose authority?" Besides, there were a bunch of different religions that seemed to work for different individuals so how could one be the definitive answer? My philosophy of the world was culled from the books I read, the rare philosophical discussion (usually with my friend, Otto), and my own experiences. I didn't have an answer. All I knew for sure was that I didn't know anything. This led me to conclude that no one else knows anything either. I'm not saying that people don't have knowledge, I'm just saying that no one is 100% "right" in their beliefs. There is no single, universal belief system that some people already possess and eventually the rest of the world will wake up to and fall in line with. I believed in all sorts of contradictory ideas like space aliens creating the human race and the notion that magic is an inherent human quality. This was useful because I could fluctuate between hard science and fantastic magic depending on some new knowledge or experience, or on just how I was feeling on a given day. Christians can do this with the "eye-for-an-eye" God of the Old Testament and the "turn-the-other-cheek" God of the New Testament depending on if they are the one who's angry or if they are giving advice to someone who's angry. After September 11, I was surprised at all the Christians screaming for blood under the "eye-for-an-eye" premise when Jesus would have offered his other cheek after being slapped. Marcion was right when he said the Christian scriptures should not include the Old Testament writings because Jesus had superseded the old Law. Too many contradictions in the current version allow people to pick and choose. One of the perks of being an atheist is that I can hate and wish death upon anyone I want without having the guilt of answering to some higher power. But I digress.

It was around this time that I felt compelled to identify and categorize the strange experiences in my life, which could no longer be ignored, without attributing them to God or the randomness of the universe. I took to describing this supernatural realm as "The Force." As I mentioned, I was obsessed with the original Star Wars and hung on every word of the wisdom of Obi-Wan Kenobi. This was before the transition to DVDs so I had to clock each scene with Obi-Wan in order to fast forward to the crucial parts without missing anything. ( A list of the times is still tucked into my old videocassette.) When Luke meets Obi-Wan and learns about his father, he is confronted with the strange concept of "The Force" and Obi-Wan offers an explanation that I found quite satisfying.

"The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together."
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Star Wars, 1977

Perfect. I do feel we have power. I do feel we are all connected. This strangeness I'm experiencing can finally be identified. We're all connected by "The Force."

And that was it. I didn't realize it then but it's clear now that this was when I started to really draw upon the pop culture of my youth to formulate a life philosophy and understanding of religion. I didn't go to church and I didn't need to. My answers were right in front of me in the music, movies, and literature I've loved since childhood. There must be some reason for such a strong attachment besides sentimental reasons. The next step, and the biggest, was learning to read and understand these things in a new light.

Connection

It's strange how we connect with people in this life. I met my best friend, Wayne, in 4th grade (1983) and we've been like brothers ever since. There was a set of twins at our elementary school and he was friends with one and I the other so eventually we met. It seems strange now that we hit it off as we did because at that age your either scholastically inclined, physically inclined, or both. I was more scholastic and, lucky for me, he was both. He was always active on the playground in games of kickball and the like which I never really participated in on a regular basis. I used to play on the bars and the rings which weren't so competitive. I think we made a connection because he lived a half a block away and he knew friends of my brothers. I immediately took to him after an incident while walking home from school one day. Near his house, there was a house that had a small hedge with a low brick wall around it. Wayne easily leapt over it and, trying to impress him, I made the jump too. I cleared the hedge but came down on the brick wall and twisted my ankle. I couldn't stand, let alone walk. I hardly knew this kid, how do I ask for help? I didn't have to. He lifted me onto his back and carried me to his house where I called my mom and got a ride home. I'll never forget that, we had only known each other a short time.

After that, we were inseparable. He would come down to my house each morning so my grandma could drive us to school. This was the age when you usually show up at school a half hour early to play on the playground, but we would wait at my house until the last possible minute just hanging out and laughing. His habits at school changed as well and he and I took to walking around the outer edge of the playground just making up funny stuff, doing Mad Libs, making funny shadows, creating a list of X-rated Garbage Pail Kids. I recently reflected on our odd pairing. I was into imaginative play and he was as athletic as the best kids in school. He could have easily gone that route but he chose to hang out with me. He did still participate in some sports, I remember a flag football team that I was "Manager" of so I could be there to support him. Last year I had to ask him "Why did you befriend me?" He answered my strange question with "I don't know. I liked having fun and laughing. I liked being around you and your brothers." (We are quite entertaining.) He fit right in with us. He could even hang with my brothers if I was busy. We rarely got angry with each other and everything we did was to have a good time. We take our friendship for granted sometimes and don't realize that most people in this world never make such a deep connection with another human being that it lasts 25 years. About 4 or 5 years after high school, we went into a store and ran into a guy we knew from elementary school and he couldn't believe it: "You guys are still hanging out together?" Till the end.

I mention all of this because when I started to verbalize my outrageous ideas he was the first one I opened up to and now we have all kinds of odd coincidences occur between us. These new incidents reminded me of the first time I thought we had some kind of connection beyond this reality. After such a strong bond in elementary school, of course we moved onto junior high and faced all those experiences together. We skipped school a lot to hang out in a field and smoke cigarettes (our favorite movies were The Outsiders and Stand By Me) and it wasn't long before we started experimenting with drugs. Talk about just hanging out and laughing. We devoted days, weekends, and summer vacations to getting high and having a good time. There was a local liquor store that was a block away and we used to walk up there to buy candy for when we got the "munchies." We were also getting very interested in Reggae with artists like Peter Tosh and Bob Marley. I recall a very amazing instance in which we were walking home from the liquor store and, while munching away, I had Bob Marley's Redemption Song running through my head. "How long shall they kill our prophets? While we stand aside and look." And out of nowhere, Wayne looks over at me and sings "Yes, some say it's just a part of it, We got to fulfill the book." I was frozen in my tracks. He had followed up what I was thinking with the exact lyrics. He was confused by the look on my face. "What?" "Why did you just say that?" "I don't know, it just popped into my head." I explained my disbelief and we laughed it off as "trippy" which is what you do when your young and high, but I never forgot that. Somehow our minds were connected and this connection would manifest itself more frequently, as I said, after I told him about my ideas of something beyond this reality. I recognize that early incident as a flash of what was to come. Like Luke Skywalker blinding himself with a helmet in his duel with a remote that he could almost see even without the use of his eyes.

"You've taken your first step into a much larger world."
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Star Wars, 1977

Don't Forget About the Sea

When the ebbing tide retreats
Along the rocky shoreline
It leaves a trail of tidal pools
In a short-lived galaxy
Each microcosmic planet
A complete society

A simple kind of mirror
To reflect upon our own
All the busy little creatures
Chasing out their destinies
Living in their pools
They soon forget about the sea...
Neil Peart
Natural Science, 1980

Sometimes you can hear a song a hundred times and not really hear it. You know the tune and the words but that one time it suddenly hits you, "That's what it means." I've always loved the song Natural Science but I can distinctly remember the moment when the opening totally revealed itself to me. The music has a rolling sort of feeling as of the tides flowing in and out which fits the lyrics perfectly. I was on one of my drives to see my future wife, then fiance, from L.A. to San Diego. The song was rolling along with me and, while passing through Orange County, the freeway rose above a surface street which gave a startling view of the vast expanse of neighborhoods stretching in every direction. Right at that moment, Geddy sang:
"Living in their pools
They soon forget about the sea..."

I remember thinking that these are our pools but we're part of a much larger sea. People live and work in one area so it's easy to think that's all there is. We create labels and groups to make ourselves seem more important and better than others. I'm white, you're black. I'm rich, you're poor. I'm Christian, you're Muslim. I'm straight, you're gay. The old 1980s Straight Edge punk group, Youth of Today, said it best:

I used to think that labels were just symbols of pride
But over time I see they only serve to divide
Ray Cappo
Break Down the Walls, 1986

We keep ourselves divided as if admitting that people are just people somehow diminishes our own uniqueness. It's a hard pattern to break because, like religion, these views are reinforced by our sacred canopy. I have a friend who majored in Sociology that started me on the road to not labelling people. We were standing around at work one day and someone started a story about "this white guy" and my friend immediately interrupted, "Is that relevant to the story?" We were all kind of stunned because to describe people is so common that none of us caught it. The guy finished his story without really answering the question (it wasn't relevant to the story) and we went back to work. That moment always stayed with me. (Thanks, Marc.) Do I label people without realizing it? I'll have to drop those labels from my vernacular. This is not easy to do. This incident took place almost ten years ago and I still have to make a conscious effort when launching into a story because these labels are everywhere and most people use them. But I try. I suggest that we all try. We are all busy taking care of our own little worlds but don't forget that there's more out there. Even with all our differences, we're all human beings. People are people. Don't forget about the sea.

Alter Our Perceptions

I've read portions of the Carlos Castaneda books in which the author, an anthropologist, interviews the Yaqui shaman Don Juan Matus. Something that always stayed with me was Don Juan's description of perceiving reality. He talks about strings of light that extend everywhere throughout the universe and that we receive and filter these strings of information through a specific perception point within our psyche.

(Aside: I am using the word psyche, pronounced "su-ke" in Greek, not the modern day psyche, "si-kee." Psyche in ancient Greece meant "that which is not the body." The most common translations are soul or spirit but I reject these as they have come to carry so many Christian connotations. Psyche to me is best described in the Ancient Greek because I recognize that I am more than my physical body but I'm not a shell filled with a spirit/soul granted me by God. I know there is a component of myself that is "not the body.")

So, according to Don Juan, our reality is constructed by our interpretation of the information coming through our perception point. It is possible to shift this perception point to comprehend a "nonordinary reality." This is the goal of a shaman warrior, to increase awareness and focus our energy into a "second attention" that will allow access to other states of reality. But how do you shift the perception point? Don Juan introduced Castaneda to mind-altering chemicals, such as peyote and mushrooms, and the art of dreaming.

I was immediately intrigued. I've always had very strong dreams and was fascinated by the suggestion that I could control them. My early drug experimentation was all for the fun of having a good time with my friends so there was no hesitation when I was offered, I jumped at the chance. (Well, maybe not the first chance, but definitely the second.) I was willing to alter my perception of reality long before I heard of Carlos Castaneda or Don Juan. The best lesson I got from Don Juan was that drugs aren't necessary to alter perception, they're just the introduction to the fact that it's possible. Once you've opened your mind and cast off the limitations of our current reality, you're mind can access this state without aid. There were times when I was in such an altered state that my mind seemed to be running on its own, receiving thoughts from some place beyond this reality. I felt in tune with the universe and everything clicked. Like magic.

This feeling is often described as "being in the zone," when everything happens just as it's supposed to with what feels like little effort. I recognized this feeling from my pre-drug youth when my addiction was video games. Thinking back, I also had even earlier experiences of altering my perception. When I was little, we had a screen door that had a criss-crossing "X" pattern on the lower half. I remember staring at it until my eyes seemed to cross and the pattern became three dimensional. I remember reaching out and trying to touch it it looked so close. This is exactly like the 3-D art poster that were popular in the 1990s that look like a mess of color but change to an image when you stare at them long enough and reach this altered state. People had a hard time seeing them but my experience from childhood made them easy for me. This skill came in handy when I got into video games. When I was a kid, games on Nintendo could not be saved like nowadays and to beat a game you had to play it all the way through perfectly. Most games back then were side-scrollers (Super Mario Brothers is the best example) in which your character moved toward the right of the screen with obstacles and enemies coming from all directions. This meant that you had to be aware of the entire screen and not just focus on your character. I remember times when I'd feel a dreamy state come over my mind. I was "in the zone" and could do no wrong. Everything happened perfectly as long as you kept your mind blank and just flowed. The minute you focused on your success, it was over. I always took note of that. The key to success was to tap in and let it flow. These experiences directly influenced my concept of magic and its inner workings. You can't think too hard about things or they will never happen. You have to create the thought in your mind and then direct your thoughts elsewhere. You must allow that initial idea to grow into its own reality. Everything will happen as it's supposed to if you allow the magic to work of its own accord. It cannot be forced. This notion developed over a long period of time, with the different pieces falling into place as memories and experiences converged.

I consider myself lucky to have learned these skills so early in life. I'm thankful for my drug experimentation for bolstering my understanding of the malleability of perception. You don't have to think like everyone else and you shouldn't. We are all living in the same reality but we're not perceiving the same reality. The key is to keep your mind open and not limit yourself to a reality foisted on you by others. Your reality is your own.

Face Up

Freddy Nieuwendyk was working undercover. His assignment was to bust the jewel-theft ring of Joe Cabot. After the right recommendations, Freddy was selected to work on a job with a six man crew. But first he had to meet Joe and establish his credentials. The undercover team was prepared for this and provided Freddy with a story of a funny incident that happened while he was on another job. He related that he was making a marijuana deal at a train station when he had to take a piss. He walked into the bathroom, with the weed in a hand bag, and there stood a group of cops with a police dog. They weren't there for him, they were just hanging out in the Men's room. So Freddy casually emptied his bladder, washed his hands, and left. Joe was pleased with his actions and how he handled himself.
"You know how to handle that situation - just shit your pants and dive in and swim."
Joe Cabot
Reservoir Dogs, 1992

The words of Joe Cabot always come to mind when I'm going into a situation I'm dreading or when I suddenly find myself in an unexpected situation that could turn out bad if I crack under the pressure. Long before I ever heard these words of wisdom, I used this skill to extricate myself from a sticky situation. During my drug-fueled high school days, I was stopped by a police officer while under the influence. I was walking away from campus during school hours when he rolled up on me. I had drugs on me but I didn't act afraid or nervous, I wasn't doing anything wrong. I had learned years earlier that when you're doing something wrong the last thing you want to do is act like you're doing something wrong. The police officer took my name and address, asked me a few questions which I answered satisfactorily, and told me to get home. I knew how to handle that situation.

Joe Cabot also served me well when I went back to college and had to take a speech class. I hate getting up in front of people and, as strange as it sounds, I was more nervous anticipating taking the stage then when I actually got up there. I needed something to prod me into moving and Joe was there, "Shit your pants and dive in and swim."

It's okay to be afraid, just do what you have to do. We all face situations like this in our lives and it helps to have the reassurance that fear of the unknown is normal. But don't let that stop you from doing what needs to be done. There's no sense in running away, you'll have to face up to it sooner or later, so it's best to face it head on. On your own terms.

Possibilities

I moved to Oregon after high school but only managed to last 2 years before returning to Southern California. Lack of friends, activities, and sunlight drove the decision. It rained 10 months out of the year and that's just torture to a California boy used to seeing the sun almost everyday. Upon my return, my best friend gave me a book to read called Communion by Whitley Strieber. This is a true account of the author's encounter with alien beings. Strieber was already established as a horror fiction writer so many critics doubt the validity of the story told in Communion. I was totally captivated. It read like a horror story, keeping you up all night, but the real goal of the book was to try and understand the relationship between aliens and humans. The aliens are watching over our fragile evolution until we can properly cope with not being the only living thing in the universe. This was appealing to me. I recently unearthed an old piece of writing from high school in which I pontificated on the existence of aliens and their connection to human evolution so the germ of this idea was already in my head when I came into contact with Communion. "There's no God so it's possible that human beings could be a galactic experiment. The universe is so big there must be something out there." Even then I felt arrogant in thinking that human beings were the pinnacle of existence. Maybe at 17 I just wanted to believe something fantastic.

Right around the time I read Communion, my future wife and I visited a library book sale and I put my hand on a ring in the dark. There were tables filled with books and I was scanning titles as only the spines were visible. The first book I selected, based solely on the title without any idea of the subject matter, was Chariots of the Gods by Erich Van Daniken. It is an historical discussion of contact between ancient civilizations and alien beings. This was one of my first noted instances of things happening right when they're supposed to. Why did I choose that book? How was it possible that it matched and enhanced my knowledge of a subject that had already piqued my interest? It was as if something was saying "Here, read this next. It's the next piece of the puzzle." I took the book home and devoured it within days. After that, I was convinced that aliens were real and were just watching and waiting. This was the mid-1990s and alien stories and imagery were everywhere due to the popularity of shows like the X-Files (which I never watched). My belief in alien beings was not based solely on stuff I read in books, I've twice seen some strange things in the sky. In high school, my brother and I were ditching school and getting high in our garage (yes, this was our main activity in high school). The side entrance door was open and as I was staring dazedly out it when an object appeared in my line of sight moving across the sky from left to right. It was a silver ball. The sun shined on it and distinguished the shape. There were no wings, it was a sphere. I ran to the door with my brother in tow and we both stood there staring "What the fuck is that?" It moved off behind some trees and we were left trying to explain what we saw to people who only focused on the fact that we were in an altered state of mind. My second encounter happened while not under the influence and in the presence of my wife who is a more credible witness as she does not imbibe mind altering substances. We were driving at night and saw something in the sky that looked like a blimp wrapped in Christmas lights. I sped up for a better look but it moved away too quickly. I would have been able to catch a blimp so we're still not sure exactly what it was we saw. These events and my readings consumed my thinking and even pervaded my dreams. After I focused my attention on other matters, the dreams faded but every now and again resurfaced so I took to writing them down to avoid forgetting them.

Am I still certain of the existence of aliens? Possibly. What this series of events did for me was to open my mind to the belief that anything is possible. I don't believe anything is certain. If it's real in someone's mind, then it's real to them. My 6 year old recently asked about the existence of Santa Claus and, on a separate occasion, the existence of aliens (he has Lego sets with aliens in them). This is how I responded: Unless you personally experience an event, it is only a story related by another person. Everything is a story. Aliens, Santa Claus, Jesus. Some people choose to believe and some people choose not to believe. YOU get to decide, in your heart and mind, what YOU choose to believe. He looked at me with those eyes wise beyond his years and said "I believe in everything." "So do I" I replied.