STEPS Chapter X

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(1971-1975)

X

12 SEP 72 - Let me say a few words about the circumstances here. I have seen much and none of it makes any sense. Now everything runs together and life is dull and dreary. I am something of a bore even to myself, certainly nothing remarkable for anyone else. But I have seen much. And it makes the present seem strange, ironic. We add our own feelings to things, that’s all. I expect little of the future. I have little to give to it; and you know they say of those who give least that they also receive in like measure. I have few illusions. They would make me somewhat happier; but I’m not too uncomfortable without them, only a little wearied. I live alone now. Who would have me? Oh yes, a few would find relief from their own company by snuggling up with me or hanging around and trying to say bright things. But it’s not really worth the effort, you see. I don’t care if they come or go. I could not sustain the charade. There is a little pot over there I heat up for coffee. I drink it by the quart throughout the day. My shoes are paired up and stand in line beside the door. Eight thin cinderblocks hold up wooden planks on which, beside two walls, I’ve set some odd books and papers, pictures, a lamp, a clam shell, a tiny piece of pottery, a scale for the mail, a large woolen shawl from India, a chess set, a clock, and one or two other prosaic items. Beside me in this stuffed rocker is a large aluminum garbage can, on the upturned lid of which I’ve placed a light for reading. Some miscellaneous papers and texts lie in a disordered pile against another wall. A cheap radio sits yonder on the floor. There is a card table and chair beside a window. With the drapes drawn it looks out upon green lawns, suburban houses, tall pine trees swaying gently in light breezes, a few clouds, and honeysuckle growing along a fence. In the morning, early, you can hear many noisy birds and see a lovely sunrise.

The kitchen here is the most modern, with all conveniences, needed or not. The walls are uniformly white. The shag fibers are faded, yellow and orange. There’s a bed in one of two adjoining rooms and another chair. The bathroom is just what you’d expect, with modestly affordable indoor plumbing.

The neighbors are loud when they’re around and awake. These walls seem quite thin at such times. A block away there is a busy dirt-track for local motorcycle enthusiasts. The buzzing din can get on your nerves after awhile.

That’s all. No one here knows me. My life is quite routine. My work is not particularly interesting. I am glad to leave at the end of the day. I discourage any intimacy and friendship with my colleagues. We have been thrown together by circumstances, not of my choosing. I shall be civil so long as they do not take advantage of this. I would not care to see any of them in the supermarket, much less at my apartment.

Time hangs heavily on my hands. I read. I sleep. Once in awhile I go to a movie or shopping. I make simple meals and then wash the dishes. I write a few letters. I watch the tall, stately pine trees swaying gently in light breezes. I wait for death.

16 SEP 72 - I dreamed last night that I have been newly inaugurated President and a beautiful young woman has assumed some related office. She warns me that this time the people are already disillusioned and liable to kill me. It seems we have been through this scene many times, each one with some slight variation in the exact circumstances. I realize that she is correct. I look out into the surrounding darkness aware that at any moment a bullet may be fired at me from somewhere out there. I feel tense, but also somewhat resigned. This scene, like all the others, must be played out. We have no choice but to say our lines and move as has been directed, in keeping with the current script.

19 SEP 72 - Downtown today, I ran into my brother Ralph who had just arrived by bus from Lackland Force Base, in San Antonio, where he is currently stationed. He remained with me while I completed my business. Then I drove him out to a rendezvous with our mother who, from her shopping, would be taking him on the rest of the way out to our folks’ place, to stay for most of the weekend. We got into a discussion of The Lifestream Way. I explained my chief reservation about it, that I felt it required of me a commitment to a belief system for which there was no basis other than wish-fulfillment. He reasonably suggested that since it could be a very significant choice, either way, and since my decision against L.W. might be due to a misunderstanding of my first letter from the present Master, why didn’t I write him one more time to seek to clarify my doubts and his position? This, then, will be done.

20 SEP 72 - Greetings fellow fools in this phenomenal frame!

More calls today, seeking work. No bites yet. Not even any tugs on the line.

Reading J. Krishnamurti’s Think on These Things.

In a dream during a short nap today I learned the "secret" of out-of-body experience, which was rapid, shallow breathing. I tried it and, indeed, began to experience the separation of my "soul" from my physical body. I became frightened, however, and so stopped the experiment.

In a somewhat related dream sequence, I found that by concentrating in a special way I could teleport small objects or make a window open or close from a distance. This newfound ability also, however, was too frightening for me to continue, implying a level of responsibility for my reality I do not feel ready to accept.

In still another dream, an advanced yogi suddenly materialized immediately to my right, frightening me rather considerably.

22 SEP 72 - In a short dream last night, I kissed a lovely lass goodbye. She handed me a delightfully complicated card made out of candies and fruits, that formed writing. It called on me, from now on, to refrain completely from consuming alcohol or eating meat. I was very pleased with it, thanked her, and assured her that I would follow its advice, realizing that my life may depend on it.

25 SEP 72 - I called the university today and cancelled my graduate school application. I’ll not return to college till I’ve made some significant growth toward metanoia and achieved significant, positive, "altered states of consciousness."