This is why I never wanted to tell you what I’m going to tell you now … part one

I lived my youth with a passion.  When it came time to graduate from college, the final act allowing me to graduate with Honors was to write a Senior Honors Essay.  It turned out to be the finest thing I’ve ever done academically.  Coincidentally, it also happened to turn my life in quite a new direction.

I decided my topic would be something connected with existentialism.  My mentoring professor said he wanted me to read, among other things, this new set of books written by Carlos Castaneda about his anthropological excursions into the Sonoran Desert of Mexico and his tutelage by a Yaqui Indian Sorcerer.

I read those books with a passion.  I also read the Germans and the French, the philosophers and the playwrights.  I had been a physics major to begin with and dug more deeply into the far reaches of our understanding, embracing the impact of the revolutions in thought that accompanied the dawn of the 20th Century.

By the time I was done reading over 75 books, I began my magnum opus having developed a sense that logic itself got in the way of science at times, but that rigorous thought was still absolutely of the essence in any serious attempt to understand reality at its core.

I eventually was able to prove, using classical logic, that logic itself was not needed for scientific analysis, but was instead more of a historical artifact, determining that we were blinded to much of reality by our logical bias.  Finding a rigorous core of any reality was much more important and I wanted reality to explain itself in its own voice. 

By that point, the academic wasn’t enough and I decided that I wanted to try out my new theories in practice … and that it was time to find a teacher.  Tomorrow, I’ll tell you just how frighteningly well six of us succeeded at just that!