Maybe Chapter 1

I started this story with the intent of relating a fun and happy stories but then I realized I am miserable. I find myself surrounded by good, friendly people. The climate and environment is very agreeable. There really is nothing to complain about. Now I remember I am poor . Poor enough to make government assistance. A place I never thought I would be. I am barely making it Squeaking by from check to check. Don’t get me wrong – I have been broke before, the only differnce was it was just me. Now with a wife, two children and a dog to take care of my priorities have changed. Sneaking by with a box of cereal are long gone.
There was also a statements on reality that have been shown to me that I felt necessary to communicate to others. There was a time where I was searching for answers and found some plus more questions. At some point the search was over. I think that was when I found love. This time it was real.

I started the journal because of the feelings I was having. Being a teenager of those hormones maybe it is just heavy lust. Shannon was the love that provided me with my answers and stopped my quest for knowledge. It was love that made me feel complete. A yin and yang. I was also making art at the time which satisfied my creativity. Alas here I am again writing, searching for the lost parts of that left behind person. The love is still there. This is not a story of heartbreak. The fuzzyness has returned. The same as I have returned to the East. I did not have these feelings when I lived in the West. I was too focused on my job. Now that is is winter again my body has slow down my mind has awakened. In Phoenix there are no seasons. No down time for my line of work. The focus to learn a new environment and a new golf course pushed the fuzzyness away.
Was I too busy for it or did it only need to grow and spread like a mold. Making more and more fuzz until I would find it and finish whatI started. Now it has grown in strength and will not allow itself to be ignored anymore. This will make me whole again uniting me with the destiny that separated me. Where did it start again what was the catalyst. The symbol . What could it mean. Why would it awaken me, unless

This is what is making my life miserable. Not the poverty. Poverty only related to worldly goods – goods that provide comfort and a feeling of self worth through monetary means by being a consumer. When my son smiles at me – touches me there is no man that is richer. Every parent has that joy. The desire to return that joy to your children through the acquisition of toys and the like is misguided.

This feeling that I am bigger than myself. That I have let myself down. How can you do that if you don’t even know what it was that you did or did not do.

I am very close to being sucked in by it all and losing the gift of clear vision of the world. As work started in Phoenix I found myself in a very competitive market. By good fortune my employer was one of the top places to be in the Valley. Up until now the job of golf course maintenance was medium of communicating with the environment and its life force. Arriving at the other end of the spectrum the management of a golf course become very serious and technical. An aspect I found interesting and become engrossing. I started a journey into becoming management, a consumer, a mindless drone to the Wal-Mart of life. This surprisingly kept me busy enough to fend off the fuzz. The construction and creation of parts of a golf course appeased me.

Not to mention the massive amount of learning I was doing.


ZEN AND THE ANT OF GOLF COURSE MANAGEMENT


After reading Zen and the ant of Motorcycle Maintenance I decided to start a journey of understanding the world around me. I found that was the lest I could do. Not afraid of technology but only ignorant of how it works. Heading a course of my life to understanding and self sufficiency. This is how working of golf courses came to be my profession. A gust for the unknown coupled with a desire to work the land. It seemed like my entire family was dependent on others to maintain and repair their technology. This ignorance was unacceptable for me. The goal is to learn all aspects of life and technology so that when confronted with problems I would have the ability to fix it or at least understand what was wrong. Even though I spent more hours working on Volkswagens than reading books of spirituality I found a balance. The old adage of all things in moderation has always been important to me though sometimes failing. Not to say there is not a lot of spirituality be found while working on a Volkswagen.

If you are looking for a Sage a mechanic is a good place to start. While mostly bitter about the mistakes of others, which gives them a great amount of work, or upset at engineers who made it nearly impossible to replace a simple part. This bitterness gives them great insight to the workings of the world. Don’t mention this to them for their knowledge comes from not knowing they have the ability to be sages , plus mechanics don’t like to be told they do or do not know something. Part of their magic comes from the power of confusion they must bestow on you. This can come in many forms, talking in uncomplete disoriented sentences to numbing and good old fashioned skepticism, which can be blamed on the engineers. Not all mechanics are sages and not all sages are mechanics so don’t ask the next enlighten person you see to give you a tune-up or the guy at Jiffy Lube what is the meaning of life. When you encounter the real thing don’t expect direct answers and don’t give direct questions. Mostly in life you receive the right answer but are asking the wrong question.
“I seem to be having trouble with my car” you say.
“What seems to be the problem?” replies the mechanic.
“Like I said I am having trouble with it.”
“So that is all I get huh ?” says the mechanic.
“Well you know it doesn’t run right” you say.
“There are a great many things in this world that don’t run right but everybody just doesn’t step and pop in here for a quick fix do they” he shot out.

Upon further inspection he was right. It was rather quiet at the mechanics station. Apparently this was disrupting his normal flow of things and was causing great irritability. It must be noted that great irritability is what keeps mechanics going plus the daily ingestion of grease from special intestines located under their fingernails.

“Yeah I guess so sould I tell you about the popping sound or just be off then?” Hooking up from something that apparently required a lot of staring at he continued the stare at me. “Was that so hard – a popping noise hugh, does it have a location or is that all I get.”

“The front right” you wimper trying to stare intently at anything. He pondered and replied “I believe you already know what caused the problem don’t cha.”
Unfortunately you did. You were cornered. The trick now was to find an alternate plausible excuse. Denial that would work but you have already paused too long for that to be believable. Something else.
“When I parallel park I have a tendency to pop up onto the curb a little bit,” you mumbled out half the truth. “Hump” replied the sage and starts to disappear under the car.
The truth be all told you usually run plum over them and usually at a good clip too. Then you bounce down back onto the street finally settling into a parking spot. It really only resembles parallel parking in the sense that when it is all over the car is left somewhat parallel to the street. If a person was to witness this from the sidewalk or even more amazing would be from inside the car the whole operation would appear wildy out of control as the car races landing strip long enough to accommodate present speed and relatively to the destination jerk hard to the right jump the curb careen back to the left then jerk to a halt behind the next car parked along the street. In your defense I must add that the curbing is quite low and extremely low and merly appears to be a curb because that is where curbs should be. In all actuality it is more like a speed bump that’s sole intention is to stop you from doing exactly what you are doing.
“Your ankle is broken” comes from underneath your car.
Under further inspection you determine this is not the case and smartly reply “Huh?” “Your axle is broken where the shock attaches,” comes from the mechanic as he reappears. “Oh this seems like the best reply as you blurt it out.
“You must be quite the parallel parker. It would be my assumption that a new technique might be in order. Think about taking care of your car in the same way it takes care of you. The two of you together.”
Missing the point entirely you pose the question “How much?”
“Hump” is uttered again from the sage as you wonder if there is a medical condition that does along with that sound. Missing the point entirely and he continues with “about 800.”
“Oh” you say with confidence as the mechanic wonders if English is your first language.

I drove Volkswagen on and off from age 16 to 28. When you drive an old air cooled bug bus or whatever you have to be more aware of what is going on compared to driving a modern car. The relationship you must forge between your self, the car, and the road must be strong if you desire to arrive at your destination. Total concentration is needed on the task at hand. Since the Volkswagen is a much simpler and lighter car it does not have as many buffers to the environment as a regular car.
The air cooled engine will cut different ways due to weather conditions. Wind can push the car making you extremely aware of the task of steering the car. My first Volkswagen was a ’74 bug and I was constantly looking for something to happen