North by Northwest
Working my way north, I found myself stranded this time in Los Angeles, disoriented by an endless matrix of freeways and byways and urban sprawl. In Long Beach I was hiking past a used book store, Acres of Books, and because I had a few dollars in my pocket and my appetite whetted earlier by Sometimes a Great Notion, I decided to go in. The man behind the counter said he'd watch my pack while I browsed the stacks, and I eagerly wriggled from its straps. I'd left home with virtually nothing but was now carrying forty pounds on my back.
I soon discovered the store was enormous—there were easily a million books—and I was quickly overwhelmed. I wandered aimlessly through the maze of shelves, turning my head sidways to view the titles, either standing on tippy-toes or crouching to my knees, until I found myself standing before a huge wall of books near the back of the store. As if by instinct I reached up and plucked a small black volume from a high shelf, opened it randomly, and began reading:
To you, who, through long years and much running to and fro, have been eagerly seeking, in books and teachings, in philosophy and religion, for you know not what—Truth, Happiness, Freedom, God; To you whose Soul is weary and discouraged and almost destitute of hope; To you, who many times have obtained a glimpse of that "Truth" only to find, when you followed and tried to reach it, that it disappeared in the beyond, and was but the mirage of the desert; To you, who thought you had found it in some great teacher, who was perhaps the acknowledged head of some Society, Fraternity or Religion, and who appeared to you to be a "Master," so marvelous was the wisdom he taught and the works he performed; — only to awaken later to the realization that that "Master" was but a human personality, with faults and weaknesses, and secret sins, the same as you, even though that personality may have been a channel through which were voiced many beautiful teachings, which seemed to you the highest "Truth;" And here you are, Soul aweary and enhungered, and not knowing where to turn—To you, I AM come. |
The book, entitled The Impersonal Life, had been anonymously written and contained no publishing information or copyright date. It was eerie. Because it was written in the second-person ("You"), I had the sensation that it was somehow written just for me, to me, about me. It certainly seemd to describe my 'spiritual quest' and journey to a tee. I purchased the book with the little cash that I had and went outside and usurped a ubiquitous LA bus bench to sit and read. An hour later I finished the book and for the first time had a clear picture of what it was I was supposed to do.
Three days later I returned to Hayward and the warm embrace of the Franciscans, and in no time settled back into my routine as house boy, chief cook, and bottle washer. I called my parents back in Seattle and learned that my father was going to be in Sunnyvale (near the southwest end of the Bay about 20 miles from Hayward) attending a training seminar (he was a supervisor with Bell Telephone). He asked if I wanted to fly home with him and I eagerly accepted. The sooner I got home to Seattle the sooner I could begin doing what I was I was supposed to do. The following week my father drove up to Hayward to pick me up and it seemed surreal. I was excited to be flying home—I had never been on a plane before—but sad to be leaving all the new friends I'd made while staying at the Franciscan house. We'd said our goodbyes, although this would not be the last time I'd be seeing some of them, and left for the airport. A few hours later I returned to Seattle—twenty pounds lighter, six shades darker, and hair bleached a pale gold.
Back home in Seattle I quickly went about putting a plan together to do what I thought I was supposed to do. While on that bus bench in LA, I had decided I was supposed to go into the ministry, become a church minister, and spread the Gospel of Jesus.
I did some research and discovered that in Kirkland (about twenty miles away) there was a Bible college, Northwest University (formally Northwest Bible College), operated by the Assemblies of God. I wasn't too familiar with the tenets of the Assemblies of God but learned they were a Pentecostal denomination (Evangelical, emphasizing the gifts of the Holy Spirit including speaking in tongues, the interpretation of tongues, prophecy, the word of knowledge and the word of wisdom, and the gifts of healing). After talking it over with my parents and hours of soul-searching, I decided to enter the School of Ministry at Northwest. Because my parents were unable to pay for all my tuition, I returned to my old job cooking at the Tiki Hut Steak & Lobster Restaurant in Lynnwood. I was making enough money at this point that when asked by BV, a co-worker at the Tiki Hut, if I wanted to share a two-bedroom apartment up the road from the restaurant, I readily agreed. So, before school started in the fall, I was working full-time, had moved out of the house, was paying my own rent and bills, and purchasing as many religious and philosophical books as my meager income would allow.
Shortly after moving in with BV, I was asked by my friend J (the same J who nearly accompanied me on my journey south) if I wanted to tag along while he visited S, a lady friend we both knew from high school. I did not know it at the time, but J had designs on S and his intention in inviting me along was to act as his 'wingman'. I only discovered this later after things failed to turn out as he had originally planned and it nearly cost us our friendship (perfidious behavior on my part that would, in fact, end long-standing friendships for me in the future).
At S's apartment we all sat around on the floor and visited and laughed until the topic came around to my journey. As I recounted some of my experiences—the hitch-hiking, the kindness of strangers, the camping on beaches—I watched S's demeanor visibly change. It's as if I could see her soften and melt before my eyes, metamorphosize and transform into a kind of archetypal 'everywoman' until she represented all the different types of women—Creatrix, Bitch, Harlot, Virgin, Goddess. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me and shook it off and forgot about it until six months later when BV and I decided to move from Lynnwood into a larger apartment in Edmonds, the same apartment complex where S was still living.
After BV and I had been living in Edmonds for about a month, I ran into S in the parking lot and she invited me up to her place for a mug of herbal tea. I didn't have anything better to do so casually assented, not realizing that this innocent enough rendezvous would blossom into a volatile love-hate relationship that would continue unabated for the next few years.
When school started at Northwest in the fall, I was determined to throw myself into my studies heart and soul. I understood that I was pursuing the path towards 'truth' and 'knowledge' wherever it might lead and however difficult it might be, fully prepared to surrender to the 'higher power' guiding me insomuch as I remained aware of my need to recognize 'truth' in whatever guise it happened to approach me. Ultimately this desire to recognize 'truth' would be my undoing, since it would prove impossible for me to embrace 'truth' or 'reality' or 'critical thinking' and still promote a 'supernaturalism' whose existence is based entirely on words while proving egregiously absent in the 'real world'.
During orientation week, I sooned learned the long list of activities and behavior that the Assemblies of God—and by proxy the college—considered ungodly and 'unbecoming of Christian saints'. These included the consumption of any alcoholic beverages, the smoking of tobacco, illegal drug use, dancing, gambling, rock-and-roll music, R- and X- rated films, any sexual contact prior to marriage, homosexuality, dating/marrying unbelievers, and the wearing of beards! I realized that according to these standards Jesus Himself and the Twelve Apostles would not have been allowed to attend Northwest College. Each student was also required to attend 'chapel' services for an hour at mid-morning each day, no exceptions. I knew I had my work cut out for me, but told myself I had to make the best of it.
