What I bought into and Why, Part 7
Although it appears that I have succeeded in killing the “LRH Thumbnail Sketch” thread I will also post this there, as I that was where I started this task. I apologize in advance for the length of this post...I just could say what I'm wantin' to say in fewer words. Face
“I believe much trouble and blood would be saved if we opened our hearts more. It does not require many words to speak the truth. We do not want churches because they will teach us to quarrel about God, as the Catholics and Protestants do. We do not want that. We may quarrel with men about things on earth, but we never quarrel about the Great Spirit. The white man has more words to tell you how they look to Him, but it does not require many words to seek the truth. I am not a child, I think for myself. No man can think for me. It does not require many words to speak the truth.” Thunder Rolling in the Mountains (Chief Joseph the Younger) Wallowa Band, Nez Perce Tribe
"Religions are different roads converging on the same point. What does it matter that we take different roads so long as we reach the same goal? I believe that all religions of the world are true more or less. I say 'more or less' because I believe that everything the human hand touches, by reason of the very fact that human beings are imperfect, becomes imperfect. I may be a despicable person, but when Truth speaks through me I am invincible. What is Truth? A difficult question; but I have solved it for myself by saying that it is what the 'voice within' tells you." Mahatma Gandhi
My Sister’s visit with my Father and Stepmother didn’t turn out well. She apparently didn’t get an “offer” like I had but, since she was a few weeks away from being age 21. I supposed that was because there wasn’t as much “skin in the game” for the happy newlyweds. After her week at the mansion she just got fed up with all the vitriol. It would be 20 years later before I told my Brothers and Sister about my “offer”…I just didn’t want to add to their hurting at that time. My revelation to them then stimulated a deeper conversation, with revelations that were most therapeutic to us all. My parents spent the rest of their lives hating, blaming and vilifying each other at every opportunity they could manufacture.
During the last semester of my Senior year I continued to “drift”—inwardly detached, outwardly putting up a good “front”. I was selected to be the town’s Honorary Mayor for “Young Leaders Week”, was the Homecoming Queen’s date for the Prom, made it to the State Forensics Tournament Finals (3rd Place, All Around) and was voted “Best All Around” of my Senior Class. As usual, my parents were unable to attend. I finished my last semester with 2 A’s, 2 B’s, 2 C’s and a D+ that actually turned out helping me more than an “A”.
Just after Christmas Break I started receiving letters from Colleges, including the five schools that had scouts at the “Big Game”. All 5 were interested in considering me as a Scholarship prospect but they needed a clean “Bill of Health” before proceeding with applications and consideration. I told Coach about the letters and what the Doctors had told me just before Christmas and he choked up. “You’re a winner, son,” he said, “I know it’s hard to see this now but sometimes things work out for the best and we just don’t know it at time. I’m real proud of you, Face, and I know you are gonna do great things with your life. There’s not an ounce of ‘quit’ in you, son. Anything I can ever do for you, you just let me know…you hear me?”
I never answered any of the letters. At the time, I wasn’t sure whether or not Coach was right about “not an ounce of quit”. I hadn’t consciously “quit” but I was unsure, uncertain as to where I was going, what I was doing, what I wanted, what was my next step. Yes, I was going to go to college, one way or another but the “Jock”, “Student/Athlete” identity, and all the accoutrements thereto had become so comfortable, so “step by step” that I was ill prepared to formulate a plan or consider a design for my life other than, “Be determined, stay determined, always give your best, never quit, consistently perform and ‘it’ will all ‘magically’ happen.”
I briefly considered joining the Air Force, doing my four years and then going to college on the GI Bill but decided I really wanted to have the taste of “Freedom” at this point in my life, which shortly proved to be a moot point anyway. When I turned 18 my local draft board classified me as 4F due to “Accute Post Concussive Syndrome”.
During one of my library sojourns I checked out the “Journals of Lewis and Clark” and that led to a sidebar study of the Nez Perce Tribe and to the life, words and thoughts of Chief's Joseph the Elder and Younger, and Smohalla and the “Dreamers” . For some reason, I was profoundly moved by the story of the Nez Perce, the Joseph’s, Smohalla and the Dreamers and when I had finished reading everything in the library about them I was, oddly, taken by an urge to read everything about Gandhi. Gandhi and Chief Joseph, the Younger “fit” together like hand and glove and their stories and words spoke to me, disturbed me. “Where is all ‘This’ going?” “Where am I going and why?” On and on and on.
As the School Year drew to a close I became more and more confused, drifting. More than ever I felt as though I was living in different realities. One was the reality of school, work, friends and the trappings of physical existence. Another was the growing reality of thought, meaning, spirit and finding the “Truth”; my “truth”. And then there was the reality that I was on my own and somehow out of place.
On the physical plane I was a young adult and “going places”, somewhat accomplished and certainly “on my way” in the world. On the thought plane I was an infant and needy, uncertain, clumsy and driven more by instinct than understanding. On the personal plane I was deeply lonesome, unsettled and apprehensive. Up until this point in my life I had shared very little with anyone about my “secret self and ‘world’”. I tried talking lightly about some of what was going on with me to a few selected friends and they got a little “spooked”. I tried talking to a few trusted adults and they diffidently brushed off my entreaties as a “phase” most youths pass through. Seeking counseling was a non-starter for me as I had already concluded that if anyone, or any subject, knew what “This” was all about, the World and Civilization would not be in the situation it was in.
By Graduation time I had formed a loose, general and near formless plan. I was going to work two jobs for 3 or 4 months, save up some money, then “take off” and “Walk the Earth” for 5 or 6 months, see some of the places I had read about and then figure out my college and future. My Mother became very concerned that I was going to move out and exercise my right to have the child support due until I was 21 sent directly to me. She insisted was rightfully her money “to provide a home” for me. I told her, "I really don't care about the money and whose it 'fairly' is, I am 18, I am about to graduate and I am going to make my own way in the World." I honestly didn’t want any of my parents precious money anyway…to me it was “stained” and “booby trapped” and I was, albeit blindly and naively, searching for “meaning, freedom and truth”. My “plan” began to evaporate at my Graduation as another “Ms. Angel” stepped forward in my life.
My Father had 3 sisters. 2 of them lived in our part of the state and were nearly as flaky and “Born Again” as he. His third sister was married to a Dentist and lived several states away—nearly 1,000 miles—in the suburbs of a very large city. My Aunt was so sweet, very kind and full of life and her husband was a very cool guy. Although we had not spent much time together over the years, she had always really liked me and treated me with great kindness and interest. Although my Aunt and Uncle attended church regularly they were of a very liberal denomination and “laid back” about their faith—so much so that my parents really didn’t consider them to actually be “real Christians”. My Aunt and Uncle came to visit my Father, meet their new Sister-in-Law and attend my Graduation. I was so thrilled to have them there and during their visit my Aunt, as was her way, engaged me in attentive, sincere and open conversations about my plans, my hopes, my dreams and my life.
During one of our conversations my Aunt asked me what my GPA was (darn good) and what my SAT was (very darn good). “Well Face,” She said, “have you considered ‘Ivy Halls University'? I think it might, just might, be the right place for you.” (This is a “plug” name in deference to my wish for anonymity). Ivy Halls was where my Aunt and Uncle had met, where their oldest son had gone on a Football Scholarship and was now in the PhD program at a top tier University. It was a very fine private University, founded over 80 years ago (at that time) by their denomination. Over the years it had become more secular and most of the students were not of the denomination or “Christians”. It was also very expensive but when I told her that I couldn’t afford it, she said that if Ivy Halls wanted me, which she felt they would, the school would find a way for me to go there.
In a few months I would be living in the middle of more humanity, asphalt and noise than I ever imagined and, as I would soon "discover", 30 minutes away from an “Org”.
Face
Oh drat!!! I wish you had mentioned something about this before cutting, I have many friends who henna and otherwise dye their hair pretty colors, as well as some hairdresser friends, and could have possibly gotten you much helpful advice or product recommends on handling the rinse out phase... but strawberry blonde is cute, too! 
Now they have special products on the market to wash that green out of us blondies...might have worked for your henna, too.
