Book Birthing

Every book has a story. With my first book, I have a rather unique tale to tell. It tried to die more than once, but it was always in the back of my mind. In truth, it was likely present in a metaphysical sense before I even got to know it.

I spent my career as a practicing clinical psychologist and had no aspirations to become an author. But I had a bug in my ear. It was far from being unpleasant, yet it was nagging. I had presented with an incredible gift early in my career and felt a responsibility to share it.

As with so much of what has shaped my life, it comes from the time I spent in Phoenix soon after earning my Ph.D. Thinking I knew what I was doing, I rented office space and put my name in the yellow pages. In case you’re scratching your head wondering what in the heck yellow pages are, let’s just say it was a long time ago.

I’ve never told this story, so it’s gratifying to share it. I got a call from an attorney who was funding a research organization. Its ambitious goal was to unlock human potential. He offered me the opportunity to be clinical director. I thought, why not?

The research director was, shall we say, a bit unusual. When he wasn’t playing the Chinese game, Go, he liked to spend his time sitting in a bathtub and drinking beer. Professionally, he was obsessed with finding a way to trace through the phylogenetic progression in order to determine what caused nature to change the rules and allow genetic changes later in life. In particular, he was fascinated by the ability of salamanders to regenerate lost tails while frogs are unable to replace lost limbs. That subject continues to be an area of interest for modern-day researchers.

How did frogs lose that miraculous ability? I’m not planning to go in depth at this point. When I mention somewhat intimidating terms like atavistic regenerative ability or transmorphogenetic potential, you’ll likely be appreciative. Of course, we referred to it as transmorphication to keep things simple. The bottom line is that he wanted to find a way for humans to transcend their biologic limitations. Rather than attacking the problem on a cellular level, his interest was in utilizing the power of human consciousness. His theory contributed to the ideas concerning creation and beliefs that sit at the core of my books.

There was another employee that I initially thought little about. He was going to assist me in running seminars, or at least that’s what I thought his role would be. After all, his education never progressed beyond community college. It turned out to be an example of how our preconceptions can lead us astray.

I had long had an interest in levels of awareness. I had read books about Eastern religions and was particularly fascinated by the mysticism that served as a foundation for the lives of Native Americans. Let me tell you, it’s one thing to read about it. Experiencing those phenomena is a whole, and I do mean whole, new ball game. And I did exactly that.

The man, whom I initially thought of as a tech, took me to the desert and blew my mind. My first book describes what I learned during wild ventures into other levels of reality. Most of my readers have likely attributed those accounts as being no more than the fertile imagination of a fiction writer. I’m telling you here and now that most of what I wrote about actually happened.

I wouldn’t be surprised if, by now, you’re thinking that John must have had some pretty good ‘shrooms.’ But drugs were not involved. With his power and knowledge, he didn’t require external aides.

It’s natural for us to put the unfamiliar into safe categories, like thinking I just described as having been psychedelic trips. But my books are intended for those who want to stay within the confines of understanding. I wrote for those who are willing to look beyond convenient and safe explanations. As I will discuss more fully, adding information to our verbal store is valuable and necessary. But my books are about knowing which requires a giant leap into the unknown.

The comparatively uneducated tech, his name was John, intuitively knew much more than I did. I was in awe of his knowledge and his skills. He grasped more about the workings of the human mind than I had ever dreamed possible. The only tool he had was a sensory isolation tank. That’s what he used to peek behind the curtains. More about John later.

I promised a story about how my first book came into being. Around 35 years ago, I decided I would play around with itching the scratch I described earlier. In order to do so, I sat down and started began writing about what I had learned from my time with John. I started with virtually no plan but was pleasantly surprised when I reviewed my efforts.

If fact, I was so excited that I invested $50 to have it reviewed by a man who said he was a book coach. He didn’t mince words after skimming it and then telling me to stick with my day job. I took his advice until the very day I retired.

As I was packing up to leave, I happened to notice an old computer in a storage room next to the intake office. I checked and saw that it had a 5 ¼ inch floppy drive. I went home and found that old disk with the rough draft of 30 or 40 pages, and the rest is history.

For the sake of accuracy, I need to say that it was far from fair sailing from that point. I self-published it with no marketing, and it met the expected fate. It was only after another whim many years later that I decided to get serious about starting another career as a writer. I kept those initial pages, but they are about to get rewritten. Stick around and you will see.