Chapter 6: When It All Changed

The imprinting of the third brain state takes place when we begin to interact with objects in the environment. This state defines our capacity to receive, integrate, and transmit signals and determines the degree and style of cleverness/clumsiness with which our minds and hands will handle ideas and tools. This third circuit deals with the transmission of culture across generations and introduces the concepts of invention, time, calculation, and prediction.

If our environment is stimulating during this period, we will become bright, dexterous, and articulate. If our environment is dull or static, we will feel dumb, clumsy, and inarticulate.

When I was a young boy I was quick, imaginative, talented, and free. I was confident and did well in school. Sometimes our arithmetic assignments would be a whole page, and we had to turn it in before the end of class. I would do all the math problems in my head, and then write down my answers in the last few minutes and turn in my work. The teachers started to notice me. It was easy for me and even the hardest problems were a game. Unfortunately, everything changed for me when I was in the fourth grade.

Many times during recess, I sat by myself, playing math games in my mind. It was during one of those times that my world changed. Right there on the playground, a kindly old man, with white hair, a white beard, blue eyes, and a violet glow around him appeared out of nowhere. He looked similar to the old man in the grocery store. He also looked like a kind man I often saw in my dreams. He told me I was doing too well and that I had to tone it down or I would get noticed and ruin everything. By doing my math work in the last few minutes of class, Iąd been stopping time. The old man told me that stopping, bending, or changing time was not permitted on Earth.

He said he knew that it would be hard for me, and I would feel alone and empty. He told me that the part of me that was changing time had to split off and go with him on another assignment to learn more about the exact nature of time. The part of me that had to stay behind had to hang out and be like everyone else. The old man said he was very sorry, but it had to be done this way. I remember nodding my head and feeling sad. Without another word, the old man faded from view and left me feeling as if I was in slow motion. Part of me was gone.

I sat there for a few minutes in shock. The empty feeling inside of me soon turned to anger. I felt tricked and cheated. I was angry as I walked back to my classroom. It was empty. In a fit of rage, I began to overturn all the desks and chairs, hurling books and knapsacks out of my way. I tore the classroom to pieces. Blind to my surroundings, I dashed out to where I had last seen the old man, determined to change things back to the way they had been. Unable to find him, I sat hunched over on the playground, sobbing until my rage was spent.

When I came to my senses I saw that all the other kids had gone back to class. I went inside to my classroom and found it in perfect order. All the desks and chairs were in place. My classmates were sitting where they belonged, doing their school work. A slight violet mist was in the air; something had happened. No one said anything to me or even looked at me. It felt invisible, isolated, and abandoned. In the following weeks, in order to get attention and fill the emptiness, I became the class clown.

Rather than have me disrupt my classmates with my antics, my teacher usually sent me out to work in the garden in the back of the classroom. This went on for the rest of the school year. Everyone knew I was different, but I enjoyed my time in the garden and felt a connection to the plants and earth that filled the empty space inside me.

In the following school years, my heart was not in my studies. As the class clown, the other kids liked me much more and the teachers much less. I challenged their authority. I was outrageous and defiant. My parents were less than thrilled with my behavior and did what they could to get me to behave.

I did worse and worse academically. I could not do math any longer. I could not read well. I disassociated from everything and learned to hide inside of myself. Even today, I do not read very much. Sometimes I will pick up a book and read sections to get a feeling for the book and the author.

As a teenager in the late 60s, I was different from my peers. I enjoyed classical music and jazz, while other teenagers were listening to rock and roll. Since I was slow in school, I found other ways to be quick and developed a love for speed. Driving fast was thrilling. I started taking the family car at age thirteen. There was a steep hill near our house and I would see how fast I could fly down that road. I was seeing how far I could push things. Danger and speed really excited me.

I had quiet times too. My parents often worked at night and I baby sat my younger brother and sister. We lived in Hayward, California, on the top of a hill where we could see the San Francisco Bay. I turned the music up and opened the fire place flue so I could hear the music while I sat on the roof. I loved lying on the roof, looking at the stars; it gave me a great sense of peace. It was the only time I felt that I belonged or was connected to something. Our house was right next to a dome-shaped water tower that looked like a space ship. Its shape was both mysterious and comforting. My grandparents lived close to us, at the top of Skyline Boulevard in Oakland, and their house also looked down upon everything. I have always loved being up high, seeing lights and stars twinkling like diamonds.

My teen years were about finding what I needed without counting on others and being okay with feeling separate. At age eleven I started running away and finally left home and went to live with my aunt and uncle at age fifteen. As I reflect on this, I realize there was a part of me that was afraid someone would come, like the old man in the school yard, and take another part of me away.