June 22, 1987 – A New Story For A New Life
It’s often said by those closest to me that I’ve crafted a unique and unconventional life—not through dramatic or public events, but through deeply personal transformations. This is my story, interwoven around the pivotal year of 1987, but marked with echoes of earlier experiences that helped shape my path. What I share isn’t a polished memoir. Instead, it’s fragments of struggles, revelations, and healing, reflecting the layered and multifaceted nature of life itself.
My childhood was a mix of quiet joy and profound loneliness. Born into isolation before 1965, I often felt out of sync with the world outside my family. Playgrounds felt as hostile as battlegrounds. However, I found refuge in books, particularly science fiction. Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land gave me a sense of divine possibility, planting the first fragile seeds of hope in my young, detached heart.
Adolescence brought its own chaos. By age 15, I had succumbed to drugs and alcohol, using them to dull the ache of anxiety and loneliness. Despite inner turmoil, I excelled academically. A promising future seemed within reach until a broken relationship mirrored the turmoil within me. My dreams of escaping Earth as an astronaut crumbled alongside my self-worth. I fell deeper into addiction, searching fruitlessly for external solutions to my internal struggles.
Though I sought solace in spirituality, my relationship with traditional Christianity was fraught with dissatisfaction. I revisited its teachings numerous times during my periods of sobriety, but my soul longed for a deeper, more unifying perspective.
1987 – The Year of Great Awakening
Everything changed in 1987. Years of addiction had brought me to a breaking point. Confronting my life choices, I turned inward and began peeling back the layers of societal conditioning. What emerged wasn’t tied to dogma or religious doctrine. Instead, I found divinity in the unfiltered fabric of life.
I began to see the divine not as something separate or external, but as an intrinsic part of all living things. This new understanding challenged longstanding beliefs about sin, separation, and worth. Ultimately, it brought me to a profound realization of interconnectedness—that we are all threads in the infinite tapestry of existence.
On June 22, 1987, I embarked on a pilgrimage to Larch Mountain. Standing atop this sacred peak, surrounded by ancient mountains and the Columbia River valley, I sought healing. At that moment, with sobriety still new and fragile, I turned my focus both inward and outward. The silence of nature embraced me as the voices of my troubled mind began to fade.
What followed was extraordinary. I dissolved into the natural world around me, sensing the interconnectedness of all life. For the first time, the boundaries between self, others, and God disappeared. I wasn’t merely observing the world—I was an integral part of it. A warmth filled me, a presence that silenced the persistent inner chaos.
Then came the voice, steady and calm from within, declaring, “
He is having an experience with God.”
That moment on Larch Mountain was a turning point. For the first time, my torment and fears began to fade. The tremors in my body from addiction ceased, and the mental noise that had narrated my life grew quiet. As clarity replaced chaos, my understanding of love broadened. This unconditional love extended to everyone—to those who had judged me, wronged me, and even to myself.
Recovery, I realized, was not just about avoiding substances but about living free from boundaries and constructs that separate us. It was about rekindling unity—with others, with nature, and with God. Being truly present became my guiding principle.
I descended from the mountain and re-entered life with a renewed determination to seek connection and extend peace outward. Through small, meaningful gestures, like making amends with former employers and old acquaintances, I began weaving the threads of my new reality.
I sought “my people” and a space where I could belong. By reconnecting with nature through hiking, cycling, and even trail racing, I rediscovered joy in physical and communal activities. My naivety led me to believe that others naturally understood the truths I had discovered. Over time, I learned the importance of patience and compassion in sharing newfound perspectives.
Articulating the profound changes within me was not easy. Initially, words escaped me. Spiritual awakenings defy simple language, and trying to explain them to those who haven’t shared such experiences can feel isolating. Over time, my interactions and newly formed relationships provided the language I needed to craft and share my story.
The new me that emerged after 1987 was like a child reborn. The ego-driven identity that once defined me had dissolved, replaced by a presence filled with peace and love. This transformation became a lens through which I increasingly saw humanity as interconnected threads of the same infinite tapestry.
Life was no longer about escaping this flawed world. Instead, it became about being fully present in it, savoring its imperfections, and finding divinity in each moment.
True healing comes not in isolation but through connection. It’s in our interactions, small acts of care, and shared hope that we create spaces for collective healing. Revitalized by acceptance and love, I dedicated myself to living with purpose, humility, and a commitment to help others explore their own potential for transcendence.
The story I’ve shared is not one of perfection but of persistence, questioning, and learning. My awakening at Larch Mountain was not an endpoint but a beginning, a rebirth into a life defined by connection and love.
Today, I firmly believe we all have access to this boundless potential for transformation. The greatest challenges we face often bring us to the brink of profound discovery. At those edges, if we remain open, we too can dissolve our limitations and step fully into the infinite.
We all need bigger stories.
We all need healing.
And above all, we all need each other.
