Transformation 6b

I drove most of the night through the Mohave Desert and pulled off to the side of the road to catch some sleep. I woke up in my van to a sunrise in the high desert. It was breathtakingly beautiful, a fitting start to a new life. I felt free, no longer boxed into a life as Mark, the doper mechanic. Who was I? The answer no longer seemed scripted.




That morning, I drove into Flagstaff, AZ to an old friend's apartment. I had known Randy in high school. He was a unique individual; the kind of guy that could strike up a conversation with a stranger as if they were best of friends. He had graduated from Northern Arizona University and was working at a local sporting goods store in town. He let me stay on the couch of his apartment.



Randy became the first of only a few mentors I have had in my life. He introduced me to the spiritual dimension. He was into an eclectic brand of eastern religion and reincarnation. We stayed up late into the nights talking about life and spirituality. He taught me about sensitivity and awareness. I ate it up.



During that time, I discovered books. Prior to this time, the only book I remember having read cover to cover was Black Tiger at the Indianapolis, in 7th grade. My classmate and friend, Wayne Hitrolski was reading Moby Dick. I had discovered that reading was actually interesting and enjoyable. With my newfound spirituality, I began devouring books, starting with Carlos Castaneda and his tales of drug-induced adventures with a Yaqui Indian shaman name Don Juan. It - blew - me - away.



Randy taught me a version of transcendental meditation. My journey in search of God had begun. It was an electric time. I met a new group of people who knew nothing of my past. I wasn’t burdened by expectations and the future appeared wide open.



My time with Randy was cut short by us (Randy, myself, and a roommate named Lance) all being hauled off to the Flagstaff jail. Turns out Lance was the “Ski Mask Bandit” that had been terrorizing Flagstaff for the few months he live with us. His failed attempt to rob a local bank led the entire Flagstaff police department to our apartment on winter morning. We were unaware that we had been living with a sociopath. Searching for evidence, the police put everything in our apartment in big pile in the middle of the living room. The landlord gave us 24 hours to get out. Broke, I packed up my van and moved back to southern California.



I lived in Flagstaff for the better part of a year. I have many incredible stories to tell about that time. In many ways, I consider this time my “testimony.” Although telling it in a church wouldn’t fly. My more churchy testimony is not near as interesting.

I was returning, but I was not the same person who had left.



Ch-ch-ch-changes…