Heroes and Villains

Growing up in Roswell, New Mexico in the late 1940's and early 1950's had its good points and bad points. Roswell was a small town, made up primarily of military personnel and farmers and ranchers. It was mostly a quiet community with a conservative view in politics and morality. People were usually friendly and helpful. The community spirit helped in raising children, as well. People were not afraid to correct an errant neighborhood child. Perhaps Roswell is where I learned to be part of a community.

We lived on the southwest edge of town. For the first few years of my life, we had no neighbors to the south or the west. It was all farm land. My mother's best friend lived on a farm about a mile south of us. Then, more houses popped up on the block west of us. Then well before it was time for my brother to start school, Parkview Elementary rose out of the dust just one block west of our house.

By today's standards, perhaps my mother would be judged as negligent. She allowed me to spend my days alone in the desert, where I created my own world; a world with good and bad; a world where I had all the answers; a world in which I was very secure as long as no one else entered in to take away my control. This world became my refuge very literally. Even in high school, my friends would tell me I was a nice guy, but I was in a different world; I was out of contact with reality. That was true. When real life would step in and mess with my reality, I walked. I walked for miles; I walked for hours while I reconstructed my reality, trying to make sense of events that shook the foundations of my heart and soul, my psyche.

When I joined the Army, everything changed. I could no longer retreat. The Drill Instructors kept bringing me back to live in their world. My job in intelligence as a linguist showed no mercy to my childhood ideals. I could not get away to reconcile and reconfigure my world. I had to learn a new way to survive. My day dreams ceased. The notions of good and evil, the sense of control, all begrudgingly fell to the wayside. By the time I left the Army in 1969, I was fully integrated into a new world. Even so, I longed for that other world where I had control. It was gone; gone forever.

Unknown to me, part of that childhood world remained. While I had to develop the skills to survive in the world of real people, my self-concept had not changed. It would be that self-concept that would be the root of oh so many problems that plague me even now. In my mind, deep, deep down hidden so well, are all those notions of my perfection. I remain “the standard” by which I judge all of those around me. My childhood notions of goodness and rightness remain as the framework of my expectations, not only of others, but of myself. But when it comes to self, I am somehow blind to my own short comings, somehow not in touch with the things that I do so automatically.

Yet somewhere, I have come to realize that I don't meet my own standards, and I remain introspective, ever trying to reconcile, or somehow correct those errant parts of self. Now, at the age of sixty-five, I have grown weary of self. I have grown frustrated with the lack of fruit from never-ending introspection. I have become acutely aware of a growing list of double standards by which I judge all but myself. I have grown tired of looking in only to find a hopeless, twisted mess of humanity.

But in this twisted mass of contradictions, I still find hope as I come to a new realization. When I was a child, I was the hero; “they” were the villains. The new reality is this: I am the good. I am the bad. I am the ugly. I am the hero, and I am the villain. So are we all. That is what makes us who we are.

Maybe the words in the Beach Boys song “Heroes and Villains” playfully penned by Van Dyke Parks find a meaning for me: "I'm fit with the stuff to ride in the rough and sunny down snuff, I'm alright with the heroes and villains.”

Listen to the Beach Boys “Heroes and Villains.”

Response to Critics

Most people probably would have anticipated that my last post would make some people angry; some people concerned; some very uncomfortable.

Comments and questions from the angry people are:

“Why didn't your spirit guides mention me. Am I not important to you?”

“Many people suffering more than you are struggling to hold on to life and you are looking for an exit. You coward!”

People that are concerned are afraid that I'm suicidal.

People that are uncomfortable are uncomfortable for various reasons:

Some don't buy into my view of spirit life.

Some don't subscribe to my theology.

Some think I'm crazy and wonder what they should do to get help.

I'd like to address most of these concerns, starting at the bottom of the list, working up to the top.

My view of spirit life and God is really not uncommon. It falls probably into the category of New Age thinking. I do believe that I have an immortal spirit, that I've lived in previous lives, and that I will most likely die and comeback at some other time. I am not privy to the mechanics of all of this, so I won't try to explain any of it. My philosophy and theology falls somewhere in the category of Buddhism and Kaballism. I do believe in a singular Divine Being that is behind all we know, that It cares for each and every sentient being, is intimately involved with every sentient being, and while giving us all absolute freedom of will, has ultimate control in all things. Don't ask me to justify any of what I say. I simply can't, and don't feel it is with in my intellectual power to do so, and otherwise a waste of time to try to do such a thing.

I could be “crazy,” whatever that means. If that is true, I'm not the only one, and this insanity falls into the category of a harmless alternate reality protected by the U.S. Constitution under the religious freedoms amendments.

Am I suicidal? Absolutely not. My understanding of my existence in this dimension is that I am in a classroom. Suicide is very strongly frowned upon in the spiritual realms. Spirits are not sent to hell—there is no hell. However, souls in this dimension that take suicide as an out, do go through some form of retraining in the spirit realms. It is considered a spiritual setback of huge significance. I already have logged enough events of spiritual stupidity. I don't need anything of that magnitude to add to the amount of training and karma I have to workout in this life or future lives.

Even so, whatever I suffer in this dimension is designed to teach me, to stretch me, and to grow me spiritually. Growth does not come without some pain in this life, especially when one is as immature as I am as a spirit. I am sure I have created some of my own pain by my lack of wisdom. The degree to which I accept or reject this pain has much to do with my spiritual maturity. I have no problem in confessing that I am quite the dunce, and I make more fuss over the pain than would a more mature spirit. So, allow that I am a spirit in training, and I'm whining. Allow that I am also self-centered and much of the suffering I experience is designed to make me more aware of those around me that suffer. It is working.

Finally, in the process of this training, when my spirit guides feel they have to intervene, it is an indication that I have gone way off course. That confirms my suspicions that I am a very immature spirit. It confirms that I have a huge deficit in wisdom. However, the spirit guides have enough respect that they are choosing to intervene through an “adjustment meeting” rather than taking me out of this life entirely. They are confident, perhaps, that if they just give me a hint, I am smart enough to make the necessary adjustments in this life to continue growing spiritually.

The meeting I described, I believe, was designed to give me a hint. The outcome of that meeting was that I did spend considerable time and energy re-evaluating my attitudes, and found it necessary to make some adjustments to those attitudes in light of a revelation that I do have some specific purposes or missions in this life. It was totally unnecessary for my guides to review every relationship I have in this life. All the needed to do is point at one very contemporary relationship and let me evaluate my own behaviors, attitudes, and actions in that relationship, because all that has gone on in that relationship has gone on in every other relationship. If I can figure out what is needed in the most immediate situation, I can make the same adjustment in all other relationships.

As far as asking to be removed from all of this pain when others are suffering more: I have to tell you, that is part of the shamefully selfish person I am. At the same time I whine about my discomfort, I understand even more about how others suffer more. And believe me, that is going a long way to developing a great deal of compassion. Perhaps, someday as I mature, my whining will be changed to acts of compassion. That is my hope, but ultimately, the timing of my transition out of this dimension is entirely at the discretion of my spirit guides.

Not a Dream; New Meaning

Chest pains are nothing new to me. I have had them all of my life. I have complained about them to doctors and they just look at me like they had never heard of such a thing. Eventually, before I was even twenty years old, I stopped complaining about them. I could always control them by taking a deep breath and holding it until I could hold no longer. It might take several tries, but it never failed to stop the pain.

With in the last couple of years, the frequency, intensity, and the time the pain hangs around has increased notably. There have been a few times that it seemed the internal cramping and the pain was not going away. My arms would ache as well. This was something I had not experienced until recently. This last week there has been a general aching in the chest cavity. Not the cramping, not the sharp pains, just an aching like one may have after a lengthy coughing spree. I don't know what it is.

This morning, along with the never-ending leg pains, the chest pains came back. I sat in the big Lazy Boy chair wishing it would just go away. I felt my body sink, and slowly the pain started going away, as I felt my body sink more, and I felt my spirit rising out of the body. It felt so good to be pain free. I just hoped that I would continue in this state.

Cooper, my Lhasa Apso, sat on the floor near me. I heard him issue a guttural “woof” like he does when he wants my attention. I ignored it. He did it two more times. I ignored it and continued to go deeper into the pain-free state. Then suddenly Cooper jumped up from the floor and onto my chest. Of course, I immediately opened my eyes and came back to my surroundings and the pain. Cooper stayed on top of me, licking my face, and nibbling at the back of my ears, not willing to go.

Such behavior from Cooper is extremely rare. The last time he did such a thing was when I was crying uncontrollably over the recent death of our Tibetan Terrier. And he did it one time before that when I was on the edge of an out of body experience (OBE).

I have to conclude that Cooper has some sensitivity to spiritual movement. In the case of crying for my Tibetan Terrier, it was a deep, deep emotional experience arising from the depths of my spirit. In the case of the beginnings of my OBE, the spirit was leaving the body. Cooper sensed it and leaped into action to stop it. To an animal, perhaps when the spirit leaves the body, it means death. Cooper was not going to allow that to happen. And this morning, perhaps I was on the edge of another OBE, though the classical signs of the exit were not apparent to me. My personal sense of things is that I was dying and that was OK with me.

Dying is OK with me? Yes, more than OK. I am exhausted, tired, and I feel so, so old. My legs, especially my knees are in constant pain. I am exhausted by simply walking a block with my dogs. I can't seem to get enough sleep, and what I get is very broken by apnea and constant aggravation from restless leg syndrome.

On top of this there are stressors. Karen is my step-daughter. She has a very painful and debilitating genetic disorder. She is legally disabled, unable to work because of the pain, the pain drugs, and chronic illness. She has a thirteen-year-old son that is autistic. Karen also has Asperger's disorder. My wife has attention deficit disorder (ADD). I am mildly obsessive-compulsive. This combination of disorders makes for a less than pleasant experience. From the standpoint of an obsessive-compulsive person, indeed this situation can be absolutely exhausting.

I have been actively asking my spirit guides to let me leave this dimension. Last January, I received their response in a “dream” that I don't think was a dream at all.

The guides walked into the sterile white room one at a time. They sat across the wide, long white table from me. They wore dark brown hooded robes that hid their faces. Even so, I recognized them. I have been with them before. In fact, I had been in that room with them before. I was completely at ease.

“We understand that you no longer want to be on Earth.”

“Yes.” I answered without elaboration. There was no need to explain anything to them.

“What about...?” one of them asked, starting a string of inquiries about things that have been areas of concern to me in the past.

“I don't care.” I said without emotion.

They continued to ask me the “What about...” questions. I continued to answer without emotion, “I don't care.”

Then one asked, “What about Karen?”

I wasn't prepared for that question at all. I had been so focused on my own pain and on my exhaustion, I simply did not want any responsibilities. They not only exposed my selfishness, but more to my chagrin, the fact that I still care about something.

“I don't care.” I shouted.

“What about Benjamin?” they asked. (Benjamin is my autistic grandson living with me.)

Again, I responded in anger as I realized they had exposed my real feelings for him. “I don't care!”

The three guides looked at each other momentarily. Then the lead guide spoke.

“We will have to find another caretaker for Benjamin and Karen. You will have to wait until then.”

They rose from the table and filed out the opposite end from which they entered. I woke up from the sleep. I knew that what I had just experienced was not a dream.

I am compelled to suggest that life on this Earth, in this dimension cannot be separated from your spiritual life. We tend to think that we do “spiritual things” and we do “worldly things.” The reality is that whatever you do is inextricably entangled with your spiritual life. The purpose of this physical life is to promote spiritual growth. What you do in this life directly reflects your spiritual condition, and your spiritual maturity. The pain you create in this life goes toward helping one figure out what is right, what is wrong, and what is good. I dare add that what you do out of selfishness also pushes back or retards your spiritual growth,but only for the time it takes for you to realize the problem and correct it. Life in this dimension is sacred for that reason. It does not matter what life a person has been living, whether that life has made a contribution to society, or been destructive in this life, that life remains sacred because that spirit is still in training for the duration of that life. Spiritual growth without life in this dimension is extremely hard, if not impossible.

Since the meeting with my spirit guides, I have had a few attitude shifts; not profound epiphany type realizations, but gradual understanding of things I should have been learning all of my life. Primarily, I am acutely aware that I do have purpose in this life. I may not like it, but I have been presented with a situation about which I can do something. I have the opportunity to look beyond myself, look beyond my own pain, look beyond my own inadequacy, and do exactly what the situation calls for.

When one becomes self-centered, he eventually loses all sense of purpose. Life becomes a series of “entitlements.” That is, one starts thinking, “I deserve this; I deserve that. Why does that guy have that and I only have this.” The problem is that some of us die still thinking that were entitled to so much in the physical, never suspecting that we are starving our spirit. Our physical existence is always meaningful, because what we do in the physical realm will either help the spirit to grow, or will cause the spirit to stop growth. While we are tempted to tag the physical world as “meaningless,” the converse is true. It all has meaning. We need to be aware lest we trap ourselves by refusing to correctly and wisely use what is before us in the physical world.

This whole experience has caused me to re-evaluate once again what love is. I think I am beginning to get a handle on it, kind of, maybe. It is nothing like what I apparently learned as a child. Remember the Lone Ranger? He'd ride into town, fix the problem, and ride out before people could say, "Thank you." That was how I thought love worked. You see a problem, ride into town, fix the problem and ride out. There wasn't a real connection with those that benefited from the Lone Ranger. I don't understand it when things I do cause people to want to connect to me on some other level. In fact, it scares me. My thinking is "Just let me ride my horse outta town." And sometimes that is accompanied by an after thought, "let me ride out before you find out you really don't like me."

I think it is sinking in. I can let people connect. And I can also honor those feelings I have for others, as well. I don't have to ride the horse outta town, anymore. In fact, it might even be nice to hang around.

Today, I couldn't wait to greet Benjamin as he stepped off of the school bus.

"How was school, Kid?"

He answered in his typical insouciant manner, "I met Bill, the substitute bus driver. Where is Mommy?"

"In the house," I answered as I followed him in.

Walkin' In Memphis

I suppose I can't assume that everyone has heard the song by Marc Cohn, “Walkin' in Memphis.”

March, 1969, Memphis, Tennessee, I pulled my bag out of the overhead bin and walked off the jet liner. I scanned the corridor looking for a friend that was to meet me at the airport. I had never seen her in person. We had been pen pals while I served in the Army in Korea. I felt both excitement and insecurity as I continued down the corridor without seeing her. I didn't know what to think as I came to the end of the corridor. I knew something was wrong, but until Andy or one of her friends found me, there was not much I could do. She didn't have a phone. She couldn't afford one.

I studied the layout of the airport restaurant as I walked in. A waitress stood close to a series of tables and booths talking to the occupants. She stopped talking as we made eye contact. The people at the tables turned their heads to watch me walk in. I did not feel welcomed, and had no understanding why I felt that way. I quickly looked for an empty section. I did not feel comfortable finding a place near the crowd. An elderly gentleman sat alone at a counter on the other side of the foyer. I approached him, “May I sit here?”

The man bowed his head then looked directly ahead, refusing to make eye contact. “Humph! You can sit anywhere you want.”

'No, Man,” I answered, “I don't want to bother you.”

“Go ahead, have a seat.” He still had not made eye contact with me.

I placed my bag on the floor as I sat in the swivel chair. I waited for a waitress. I waited. And waited. Finally, I turned to look for the waitress I saw with the crowd of people as I walked in. She was still there, still staring at me, now, with a scowl. She said something to those around her. A few men turned in their seat to stare at me. They did not look happy.

“Gosh, I know the waitress sees me,” I said to the old man. He chuckled. This time we made eye contact. “Son, you are in the wrong section.”

I looked at him, I'm sure with a totally blank face, “What do you mean?”

“Over there is where the white folks sit.”

“You are shittin' me, man.” I was shocked. I thought segregation was something of the past.

The old man chuckled in his coffee cup as he lifted it to his lips. “No.”

I thought briefly, looked at the crowd of white people, their eyes now fixed on me like missile tracking radar . “Well, sir, if you don't mind, I'll just sit here until my friend comes.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Do what you want.”

That was my introduction to Memphis, but that was not the end of it. I spent the next two weeks in Ripley, Tennessee living with a black family in the Mississippi flats. Perhaps, someday I'll talk about that two weeks of walking with my friends, being shunned by the white folks of Ripley, living and learning first-hand about racism in America and coming to new understanding of the civil rights movement at a level that news papers never talked about.

At some point in that two weeks, my friends wanted to show me Memphis away from the airport. Like the bars in Ripley, bars in Memphis were “private” clubs. This was how these establishments continued racist practices in spite of the federal laws outlawing discrimination in public places. Even so, there was a strange air of mystery, of hope, of love, and of pain. I heard the music from the bars and the restaurants as we walked along the sidewalks. I felt the soul. I loved the soul. I felt a wonderful camaraderie with my friends. There were folks along the way that did not seem friendly. I felt fear. There were other folks laughing and enjoying the night out. We walked into a restaurant. I never saw the name. It was dark. It was crowded. The owner seated us right away.

Chopped Steak. I saw it on the menu. I had never heard of it. I thought of juicy bite-sized chunks of tender steak, sautéed in mushrooms. I ordered it.

As I finished the meal, the owner came to our table. “How was my chopped steak?”

“It was very good, Sir. Thank you. But you know, for some reason I thought it would be chunks of steak. This was like hamburger.” I absolutely meant no malice. I did not expect the explosion that came. He slammed his fist down on the table in front of me and screamed, “I have been in this business for thirty years. You don't come into my restaurant and tell me I'm a crook.” He went on with a rant for quite a while. I was totally embarrassed. I had no idea that what I said was in any way an insult or an assault on the man's integrity. I looked at my friends. They looked at the table, embarrassed for me. We eventually left, but we weren't talking anymore.

We went home in silence.

Mind blockers

I have been reading Michio Kaku's Parallel Worlds. Dr. Kaku is a well known theoretical physicist, the Henry Semat Professor of Theoretical Physics in the City College of New York of City University of New York, and the co-founder of string field theory. The man is amazing in so many ways, but for me, he is the guy that can take something like string theory and describe it in such away that even I can understand it—at least as much as I care to understand it.

In Parallel Worlds, he spends a little time reviewing the history and the personalities behind the great cosmological theories throughout time. Of course, the great turning point in that history came with Sir Isaac Newton, who was able to stand up against accepted “science” of the time and propose a whole new theory on how gravity kept the cosmos in order. And of course, later, in the late 19^th century and early 20^th century, more radical theories came into focus, including Edwin Hubble's theories that the universe was expanding and that there were more than just one galaxy in the universe.

And then, along came Albert Einstein with his general theory of relativity which completely uprooted Newtonian science and opened the door to the modern quantum physics and eventually, string theory.

Here's what impressed me the most about the history and the modern scientific notions concerning the universe, or multi-verse as it is becoming more widely understood. So called “science” while in past centuries purported to give absolute answers to the nature of our existence, has been time and again found to be absolutely wrong. But this is not all. The very institutions that set themselves up as the authority on all science, strongly resisted every theory or finding that proved their contemporary thought to be wrong. In fact, it was not just “resistance.” At times, they used brutal economic force coupled with vicious personal attacks to attempt to discredit any theories that contradicted the accepted explanations.

Modern theorists cannot reproduce the cosmos in the lab. It is known that Albert Einstein employed intense day-dreaming, or what many call visualization, to arrive at his general theory of relativity. He proved it out by observation and mathematical calculations. This is common practice for theoretical physicists. Some have even based their theories on accepted “scientific facts” ultimately ending in error that is corrected later by someone that opened the mind to alternative understanding of the universe and physics. Some have been corrected by others that have found error as they try to expand or build on the theories of others.

Is it any wonder why many of the atheists that claim to be solidly founded in “science” immediately remind me of those very wrong patriarchs and authoritarians that so sanctimoniously dismissed the theories that have now come to be known as truth. And just like these blind believers of the mainstream sciences, atheists can't seem to get beyond the current catechism of the scientific institutions. Talk about a group of people that blindly cling on to doctrines that are as vulnerable as any other religion, the atheists fit that description to a tee. They simply dismiss any thought that does not conform to their current doctrines. They engage in vicious ad hominem arguments against any notion of spirituality.

I cannot tell you absolutely, that I do exist as spirit. I cannot tell you absolutely that God exists. I can tell you that I have experienced events in my life that cause me to believe that is true. “Science” in no way precludes the existence of spirit or God in my mind. Even so, atheists employ the same strict legalistic interpretations of science every bit as much as do the text based authoritarian religious leaders. I do believe it is sad that some people choose to deny any possibility, even in the face of growing evidence in quantum physics that spiritual existence is possible.

Maisie

When I saw her, I stepped up to the gate and let her sniff my hand. “Hi, Sweetheart.” I say that to all the dogs, but this little girl was different. Her hair had been shaved off because she had been neglected and the hair was so knotted they had to cut it off. She had one tuft of hair tied with a bow on the top of her head. It was cute, but must have been humiliating to her.

She was an eight-year-old Tibetan Terrier, all of twenty-two pounds, and almost a strawberry blond in color. She had been at the humane society adoption center, and because of her age, not many people kept an interest in her.

She politely sniffed my hand as if to say, “Thank you for talking to me, but I know you won't want me.” She walked away. I called my wife to look at her. The dog greeted my wife in the same way. We quickly went to the find a volunteer to help us adopt her. There was something very special about her, but we didn't know for sure what it was.

The next seven years with her were expensive, but We had never had a dog quite as smart and as interesting as our Maisie. Our first major expense with her came after many vet visits because of urinary infections. The doctors finally decided to see why the infections just kept coming back. They found that her bladder had polyps, which gave wonderful breeding grounds for bacteria. It cost us $2500 for surgery to remove the polyps. It had already cost us a few thousand dollars to treat the urinary infections they caused.

Maisie was not dog friendly. She seemed to be driven to attack other dogs along the trails as we walked her. One day, she tried to attack from the middle part of a slight hill. She jumped up, and as she came down, she landed wrong on her left rear leg. She yelped and fell to the ground screaming and licking her leg. I called my wife to pick us up. I carried her about two blocks to get her to a street where I could load her into the van. The xrays at the emergency animal hospital revealed she had popped her anterior cruciate ligament and displaced her knee cap. The visit was nearly $500. The subsequent surgery to repair the damage was about $1800.

Then we had another bout with urinary incontinence. Tests ran close to $400 and revealed she had diabetes. From that point on, Maisie would cost us a minimum of $200 per month routinely, but most often the vet bills and medicine ran much more than that. Even so, there was no way that we would give up on our little girl. She had won a permanent place in our lives. There were a few more trips to emergency rooms when her blood sugar would become seriously out of balance. One emergency visit cost us $700. She was in serious trouble on that visit. We pulled through again.

She was now approaching fifteen years old. I began to think that her time to leave was coming up. I asked her on a walk one day how I would know when she wanted to leave this existence. One of those strange things came immediately to mind, “When I no longer enjoy walking.” It was clear to me.

After nearly seven years with our little Tibetan friend, things took a turn for the worse. She was losing weight rapidly, she did not want to eat, she was getting dehydrated. We were about one-hundred miles from a vet the day she fell to the ground and went into convulsions. She recovered, but we spent the next day driving to Ogden, Utah where we found a good vet. The vet was gentle. “I can keep her over night and do tests on her. We can see if it's ketones or something we can treat.” Her underlying message was clear. Maisie was very, very ill—irreversibly ill. Maisie squeezed up to me as if to say, “No, I don't want to stay here and I'm tired of all the poking and the prodding. Please don't put me through anymore.

“Should we consider putting her down?” my wife asked. “It is an option to consider,” the doctor replied.

It did not take long for me to make up my mind. It was obvious this precious little girl was hanging on because she didn't want to hurt us by leaving. She could no longer enjoy her walks. They were painful. Everyday was more and more painful. I could not stop crying. She had become my best friend.

The doctor left the room and an aide took Maisie away to place a drug portal in her leg. She came back. Maise laid down by me on the floor. I petted her and talked to her. She went to sleep. Then the aide gave her the final lethal injection. My girl was gone and I could not shake it from my mind that maybe I had made the wrong call.

The following day, we returned to the vet to pick up some items we had left at the vet's office. The doctor called us into a room and assured us that we had done the right thing. "I found a big tumor around her liver and spleen. She would have lived only a few more days.” I felt better, but I was still unsure.

Tonight, I thought of that sweet little girl laying on the floor by me when she died. She came to me trusting me but I betrayed her, I thought. I started crying uncontrollably once again. My little Cooper, our Lhasa Apso ran to me and jumped up on the couch and covered me with kisses. Then that quiet little voice that told me “when I no longer enjoy my walks” came back and assured me, I had fulfilled my agreement with her. She was ready to go and was asking me to let her go when she pleaded to not leave her for more testing at the vet's office. That little girl gave me so much joy and comfort when she was with us in the flesh. She still hangs around to give me assurances now.

The Spiritual Universe By Fred Alan Wolf

Well, I have say that I should have read Michio Kaku's Parallel Worlds first. Then I would have had a good review of string theory which would have been helpful in understanding Wolf a little better. While I appreciate Wolf's sense of humor and writing style, I'm afraid he lost me in a few places. Even so, I could hang in there enough to understand his basic message. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity along with an understanding of the Heisenberg principle of uncertainty helps explain our spiritual existence as well as how we can exist on this earth as well as a spirit in some other place. It explains the Qabalistic notion of how what is done on earth is also done in heaven.

For me, it was once again affirming, but probably a lot deeper into the quantum mechanics of things than I wanted to go.

Reading Micho Kaku now. Hmmm. I contradict myself all of the time, don't I?