For Josh…

This entry is for a friend I have known for almost twenty-two years!  Wow, writing it just makes it seem that much longer; how old I must be getting!  I was over at his place last weekend with his wife and two other high-school friends.  It never takes long for a spiritual conversation to start, especially when I haven’t seen people for a long time.  At some point in the night, someone mentioned how unlikely it was that I was the one who had become so spiritual.  And the funny thing is, they are absolutely right.

Although I will defend Myself here by saying that I truly felt I had no choice at the time (it was either kick ass or get My ass kicked) early senior high forced Me to learn to fight and I went to the gym so much that I eventually transformed Myself into a virtual replica Van Damme.  With the last name vonDehn, You can hardly blame Me for making the association with some kind of martial arts sensation and My ego definitely had the better of Me by the middle of high school.  Not exactly the type of person You would expect to make some kind of spiritual transformation.  I ended up telling them about a situation I found Myself in that may actually be responsible for My awakening and Josh asked Me to tell the story on My blog.  This is for Josh.

It was a Tuesday night and I had gone out to have a few beers with some friends.  Virtually everything in My life seemed perfect:  I made more money at My job than I reasonably needed, was renting a gallery window for My artwork which was turning a weekly profit, the only thing lacking was someone to share it with.  I had this vision of meeting a beautiful Asian woman to complete the package and on that Tuesday night, there she was.

Our eyes met on My way back from the bar with the second pitcher of beer and her seductive smile followed Me all the way back to My seat.  A couple of beers later I promptly decided to pick My ass up and sat down beside this beautiful woman.  I had no plan, no idea what I was going to say, I just knew I had to do something and work well under pressure – especially after a couple of beers (only a couple mind You or I just become an idiot).

We were literally arm and arm in minutes and it seemed like I had known this woman My entire life.  She was a hairdresser and our second date was a haircut.  The chemistry was incredible.  Somehow she found a way to take an hour an a half to cut less than an inch of hair, but I wasn’t complaining.  In fact, if she hadn’t asked Me to meet her again that night, I may never have wanted it to end.  We met at the same bar and this time as the bar was closing she asked Me to go back to her place to meet her roommate.

He was the fiance of one of her friend’s who was still in Japan and the two of us hit it off famously.  He had also been a competitive cyclist, enjoyed philosophical conversations and even gave Me a book he treasured with his life, insisting he had never trusted someone enough to lend it out.  I had an amazing evening and spent the first night with the wonderful woman I was dating.  In the morning I walked her to work and she playfully  towed me around the grocery store as she shopped for her lunch.  It all seemed almost too good to be true.

When I got home, I pulled out my journal and reread the end of My last entry.  “If I could just meet a beautiful Asian woman, life would be perfect.”

I couldn’t wait to pour My heart out.  Something like, “Thank you!  I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank you!  She is perfect.  Even her roommate is awesome.  Something always seems to get in the way when I find something like this – but this time, it would take something truly incredible to fuck this up.”

I was due to meet her again that night after I finished work.  She and her roommate were both going out with some friends and I met everyone at the bar; two of her girlfriends and two of his guy friends.  Again, we all hit it off famously, closed the bar and headed back to their apartment.  Once again she asked Me to stay the night.

When we got in, she and I headed to her room and had a final smoke before getting ready for bed.  A couple of moments later, her roommate stormed into the room, came inches within My face and started screaming at Me.  His fury was like that of a rabid dog.

“I think You should leave!”, he screamed, sputtering in My face.

Completely confused and disoriented, I replied as calmly as possible, “I don’t understand, shouldn’t that be up to…?  What’s going on, what happened?”

If it were in any way possible, his reply was even louder and more furious than before.  “I’ve decided I just don’t like you and I think you should leave.  I’ve got two friends in the next room that would love to lay the boots to you if you don’t.  Get the fuck out.”  And he pointed to the door.

My arms were already raised in defense much the same way a man might look if he had a gun pointed at him and I began edging around him to leave.  Then one her friends rushed into the room, screaming at My aggressor and asking him what he was doing and why I had to go.  He turned around and pushed her so hard she went sailing across the room, taking out a lamp trying to catch herself before falling into the corner, her head making a horrible sound as it hit the wall.

That is the last thing I remember seeing before finding Myself in complete blackness, curled against a wall in the fetal position as a bombardment of boots assaulted My body.  There was no pain, only dark numbness and I remember thinking, ‘it’s okay, My body will heal, I can handle this’ until a boot rocked My cranium and then I thought with rage, ‘please, I can handle the pain but do not let them take My mind!’.

Then, very much like waking from a terrible nightmare, the world around Me began to materialize.  My conscious mind had deserted Me and was now returning.  I was already in cuffs, hands behind My back, standing in the living room of the woman’s apartment with two very unfriendly police officers.  I was so confused!  Already the officers were emptying My pockets and interrogating Me as if I were the aggressor and it seemed I had not just started this conversation!  I had no idea what I had already said, why I was in handcuffs…  I was the one who had just been brutally assaulted!

The officers were mocking Me as I tried to tell them they had the wrong guy, they should be arresting him (as I nodded and look up at My initial attacker).  This too was puzzling because he looked messed up!  They were accusing Me of being drunk or on drugs when I told them My version of the story which just further infuriated Me.  But the adrenalin was still rushing through my veins and motivated My sharp tongue.  I was past caring and started insulting the police officers, telling them they were incompetent pigs which of course was enough to justify further abusing Me by shoving Me into walls, refusing to let Me wear My shoes and giving Me a couple of shots to the face themselves before slamming Me in the back of a paddy-wagon.  When I got to the police station I had finally calmed down and the officers passed Me on to another officer, saying to her, “he’s a wild one, better put him in solitary.”  I spent My first night in prison in solitary confinement without a single charge against Me.

I was released only a few hours later and spent the first day nursing My battered body.  A few days later I returned to the hair salon to find out what had happened that night.  I was also very worried about the woman I had been dating and wanted to encourage her to get out of the apartment she was renting.  The conversation did not go as expected.

When I asked her what had happened, she said I had attacked her roommate.  I was convinced she was lying to Me and told her to take a good look at my face, then lifted My shirt to show her the countless marks on My body.  She told Me her roommate looked worse.  I stood there for a second, still bewildered and again insisted that there was no way I had attacked him, then showed her My hands and fists as testament to what I was saying.  Again she shook her head, lifted her arm, “You hit with this,” she said, tapping her elbow.

For a split second, I had an image of Myself pinning her roommate against a wall by his neck, elbowing him in the face…  And I shuddered.  As if she sensed it was coming back to Me she said, “You attack him, You attack his friends, You even attack police when they come.  I’m sorry, I don’t think we should meet again.  You are like…  Animal.  You scare Me, please go.”

So I left as confused as I had been before going to see her and even more concerned with what had actually happened that night.  As I returned to My journal, the words seemed only too profound.  “…something truly incredible would have to happen to fuck this up…”

So I returned to meditation as part of My healing process and to look for answers to what had actually happened that night.  I knew there must be some part of My subconscious that contained the information, I just had to find it.  I never did find the answer.  Instead, I discovered exactly who it was I was talking to in My  journal, who I was begging to save Me that night when I felt I was in trouble.

I also have no regrets about anything I may have done that night, for I know it was done with the best intention.  The image of the tiny Asian woman flying across a room is still vivid in My mind.  The conscious Me probably would have been too scared to do anything, but the higher Me would never let something like that go unchecked and I’m proud of what I did, I am proud I did something.

After I had My experience, I wrote him a message and told him I forgive him for anything that happened that night and that I wanted to keep My word and return his book.  He didn’t reply and I didn’t want to see the girl again either so I took his book to a second hand book store and messaged him to tell him where it was if he was interested in getting it back.

Believe Me, You don’t have to be a saint to understand Your divinity.