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I was born in the Midwest in 1946 exactly one year to the day after the Japanese signed the surrender terms, and while my father attended the University of Kansas under the GI bill. While growing up in the Midwest, I experienced nothing out of the ordinary with regard to unusual thought or activity. My first recollection of any question of significance came as a teenager. My sisters and I grew up Episcopalians, and I wondered, and kept wondering, what happened to planetary inhabitants who had not the good fortune of believing in the Jesus story, or believing in the Christian god concepts. Were they consigned to hell or dealt with more equitably by god? The question kept popping up in my mind, and was of paramount importance to me at that time. Indeed, it sounded like a logical question, but one that probably should not be expressed orally to anyone, if for no other reason, that no one could give me the answer that I sought. And I assumed people would consider me strange for asking.

One Sunday the Bishop visited our parish on his yearly sojourn to the church hinterlands, view his domain, conduct services and press the flesh to keep the diocesan coffers filled (he had a mind for names, especially those who contributed above and beyond). As a young acolyte, I sacerdotally thought of him as the real Vicar of Christ on Earth, and held the man in the highest esteem.

On that Sunday he entertained questions from the congregation on church-related subjects. To my amazement, one of the questions was, "What happens to others in the world who don't believe in our concept of god because they ascribe to other religious thought?" He read the question, and visibly surprised, hesitated for a period of time. His answer, which seemed to satisfy me somewhat, was that it really didn't matter so long as they believed in "something."

That was the first memory I had of an overriding question, which, of course, led to others along the way, and the journey began. The lax dogma of practically guiltless Episcopalianism led to a relatively easy breaking of the experiential fence of religion, luckily enough. I was always interested in otherworldly things, the paranormal, etc. But it really wasn't until the reading of the paradigm trilogy (several times just to understand the damn thing) that I really became interested in the existing situation on the planet (I despised the media even before then), and my own self awareness aspects and degree of spirituality. Even though I have read the Matrix series over and over, I still refer to those three books--with discernment, of course.

I haven't seen a lot of the things regarding out of body experiences other than dreams, and I have never witnessed the golden ropes or emblazoned words that others have seen, but I am secure in my own path, just as others are secure in theirs. And yes, it is lonely, but I have fun interjecting my ideas with those of friends and relatives both to experience their reaction and to make them think in other ways. I really don't want to change anyone, but to make them aware of ideas that they may not have thought of before. Sometimes I will even have "mind conversations" with certain people whereby I discuss and debate my ideas with them more aggressively. Maybe this finds its way into their consciousness somehow.

At times I do become overemotional about earther belief systems, media overwhelm and sheer darkside and lightside propaganda, but at the same time I realize that that is how it must be for the game to proceed, and for us to experience on this level.

It has not been difficult to move away from accepted ideas, belief systems and traditions. Relatives and acquaintances know better than to try to pull me back to their way of thinking. As a matter of fact, the whole process of the breaking of experiential fences has been pretty damned easy, that evolution of ideas, from then until now. The Law of Attraction has played a major role. That's been my path so far.