Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
ver could be part of inventory, with adequate testing and results confirming improved health
as another win/win by-product.
Then came gold teeth. The nine staffers of the side business each had three to five mercury
amalgam fillings removed and replaced with gold crowns, gold inlays and/or gold overlays,
also charged to the company card—my company. Other embezzlements would surface with a
whine, “I was gonna tell you!”
But alas, the hammer fell.
The love all around us had warped. The partner could not tell the difference between love
and a pathological need for love. Was that bad, being guilty of excessive goodness? Who could
pay taxes with so many better uses for the money at hand? He stole everything he gave away,
like Robin Hood, except nobody was rich or poor; the victims were duped, the beneficiaries
willing.
In the legal scramble ahead he was made to admit duplicity; he'd promised to bring
university-level smarts to the partnership but provided stupidity. “You bought gold teeth for
people I don't know?”
“You can know them anytime. They're good people, in spite of your attitude. Do you know
how important dental health is?”
“Do you know how important livelihood is? The company is insolvent. You will render
fifty people unemployed.” But that came later, a long way from free- spirit concerns for
solvency and employment.
Back in Montana on a blustery night, the wind howled. Treetops whipped and crashed.
Massive limbs plummeted to Earth with dramatic impact. A camp chair stupor and exciting
visual fare warranted another pipe and another swig and kept me seated.
he partner glared at this perfect example of attitude with limbs crashing around us. He
gained momentum, proclaiming danger. “We could be killed here!”
“Go hide in the car. You accuse me of distrust, cynicism and no faith. Look at you. You're
scared. You have no faith that the motherfucking universe will protect you from falling limbs.
That's hypocritical. That's attitude. So shut the fuck up.”
A limb crashed into the fire and the camp latte maker to highlight the great windstorm
story. Sleeping in the car seemed best, and by morning the spirits were becalmed. A stoned,
drunken tirade was what the doors of perception had led to, and untidy devolutions were eas-
ily dismissed with prosperity upon us. Once again we had not copped out but deferred to the
developing process.
Two weeks later I could not meditate. Years of morning meditation had connected things,
till they disconnected. I visited a psychic—an imposition because of the energy required for
what I requested. But something was amiss. Fidgets haunted the stillness. I told her of the
creek-side episode, though the trip seemed good otherwise.
