The Tortoise and the Hare

When I was 13, I denounced my Christian faith in favor of a broader, more tolerant belief system. I had done a research paper on world religions and had been fascinated by the many different ways that mankind had invented to validate his existence and explain why and how he came to be.

I was especially interested in the concept of the after life and what becomes of us after we die. The idea of a stern but loving "father" sitting on a big throne up in "heaven" welcoming his "children" back to him just didn't sit well with me, nor did the idea of a devil lurking in a fiery cavern down in the depths of the earth causing eternal suffering to those who didn't obey the father's laws.

Maybe I had read too much to retain the blind faith it takes to not question those fantastic ideas. After all, we know what the core of the earth contains and we know what it is like out in space.

Through trial and error and talking to many friends, I came to believe that death was just the beginning of a new plane of existence. All life is made up of matter and energy. When we die, the matter returns to the earth from whence it came and the energy continues to exist. The laws of Physics are mathematically proven. Where does our energy go then, when our bodies cease to exist? Does it retain our memories? Can we come back and inhabit another body and live life again as someone else? These were the question I asked myself, and I constantly sought answers in my readings and in conversations with others.

During the early 70's I went to Sonoma State College. It was towards the end of the "hippie" days and the beginning of what would later evolve into the "new age" movement. I was a Psychology major and very much into Jung, Perls and Aldous Huxley.

There was a girl that worked in the cafeteria in the commons. I found her intriguing for some reason and found out as much about her as I could. She was very illusive though, so what I found out was this: her name was Cheri and she was a very private person. I had to be satisfied with the occasional smile she gave me when I paid for my bagel and cream cheese.

One day, a young man named Mark that I had befriended told me he was going to ride his motorcycle across the western states. He would be gone for two weeks. I had always wanted to do that, being a motorcycle buff myself and having owned and ridden one for several years. I didn't know him all that well, but he was very sweet and innocent so I asked him if he would be interested in company.

He gladly accepted my proposal and early one morning, with sleeping bags attached to the back of his Yamaha 750, we set off on our journey.

But this story is not about a motorcycle journey. It is about a spiritual journey. Around day 3 or 4 of our trip, somewhere in Wyoming, we passed an old VW bug. We didn't really pay much attention to it at all. Later we stopped to drink some water and rest a bit, then got back on the road.

Again we passed a VW bug and vaguely recognized it as somewhat familiar. Later we stopped at a diner for lunch.

About a half hour after we got back on the highway we passed the VW again and this time we knew it was the same one we had passed twice before.

The fourth time we passed them on the passenger side and who did I see, but Cheri! How strange to see her out there in the middle of Wyoming. I waved and she waved back. Of course she had no idea it was me because of my helmet, but I guess they had noticed us passing them all those times too. We played tortoise and hare with them for the rest of the day.

The thing about riding a motorcycle cross country is that it really wears on your body after a while and you just have to stop and rest. It's not like driving in a car where you can move around, change position and get a snack or drink out of the ice chest in the back seat. So even though we were going about 20 miles and hour faster than the VW bug, it managed to catch up with us every time we stopped. We found it to be pretty entertaining and I thought it was so strange to run into someone I knew so many miles from home.

Finally, weary, we saw a camping sign and pulled off the road. It was 9 or 10 o'clock as we spread our sleeping bags out on the ground next to the motorcycle. Exhausted, we fell asleep.

In the morning, I got up to take a shower so we could get back on the road, and what do you think I saw, but that VW bug. They had come during the night while we slept and picked the space right next to us! Talk about a small world!

When I got back from the shower, Mark was talking to Cheri and her friend, John. I said "Hi! I know you from Sonoma State." Cheri barely remembered me. It is interesting how some times an attraction is only one way. I was to learn from her, not her from me.

Mark had been talking to them about the "God is Energy and Energy is in Everything and Energy cannot be destroyed" concept that I had told him about during our three previous days together. He loved the idea and was full of excitement about it. He wanted everyone to know.

He found a willing audience in Cheri and her friend, in fact they were on the same track and even had a book that they thought we should read. It was Seth Speaks, by Jane Roberts. I had never heard of it but it sounded great. They said the things we spoke of were all mentioned in this book.

I couldn't wait to get back to Santa Rosa and read that book. I read it and found that it contained information that I would carry with me for the rest of my life. It validated everything I believed in and gave me another viewpoint of the story of Christ's life which I found to be a little more plausible.

That motorcycle trip was a life-changing event for me, and Cheri played a big part in it. She doesn't even know it. I think I saw her one more time after I got back, but then she disappeared from my life. Small world, or big coincidence, whatever you want to call it, it seems like these encounters always happen for a reason. People come into our lives, teach us something or point us in a new directions and then they go on their way.