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|Chapter One Tasting the White Water (standard:Psychological fiction, 1594 words)|
|Author: Joe E.||Added: Apr 14 2004||Views/Reads: 1968/1224||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Chapter One is the first chapter of Tasting the White Water and is an introduction to the main characters Jack and Alex and thier quest to reach a higher level of consciousness.|
Tasting the White Water describes Jack's experience in the white water of three California Rivers, and in the psychological truth of esoteric teachings. Jack, and his friend, Alex, have white water rafting adventures on the Tuolumne, the Stanislaus, and the American rivers while they explore esoteric Christianity through the teachings of Gurdjieff and Krishnamurti. Off the river, Jack explores his nighttime dreams, and copes with the struggle and suffering of a middle class America that has lost its spiritual foundations. Tasting the White Water By Jack Daley Chapter-One "Without self knowing all meditation leads to delusion and to varying forms of self-deception, factual and fancied." Krishnamurti Two weeks before our first rafting trip, Alex and I were up in Greely Hill looking at a piece of property that we were thinking about going partners on. At four thousand feet and dotted with pines, twenty minutes from the north gate to Yosemite, the ten acre plots were a really good investment, Alex was telling me. But, I wasn't paying much attention. Somehow, I didn't have the spiritual high that I always get when I'm up in the Sierra foothills. All I could think about was how difficult the last couple weeks had been. First of all, Stoke moves back after a year out on his own, and is not at all happy about it. He wants his old room back, but he doesn't want any rules. Vickie is cutting classes right up to her last week of high school, and, picking up on Stoke's hours, staying out passed her midnight curfew. Anne and I are disagreeing more and more on what to do about the kids. "That's you to a T, you want me to be the bad guy. You never back up what you say you'll do," she's telling me. As we checked out a view of the snow capped Sierra from a high point on the rock strewn property, I was telling myself that things were no better in my economic life. "The worse case scenario actually happened. I didn't get my regular summer school job. My mentor proposal to add video filming to the classroom curriculum was turned down. And, my novel came back with another form rejection," I explained to Alex. On the way down hill, as we pulled over to get a view of the Tuolumne, I told him, "You know, twenty some years now I've been trying to make it as a writer, and I still don't know if it's what I'm cut out to do. I know I don't want to stay in teaching. And there doesn't seem to be anything else. I keep asking myself, 'What is that one thing on earth that you were sent down from the stars to do?'" Alex opened the pick-up door and shook his head. "Of course, you realize, Jack, that's the hardest question a man can ask. Though it's really, 'What is it that a man can be in life?'" At the edge of the dirt road, we caught sight of the river winding its way some three thousand feet below. A definite feeling of power rose from the water and touched our very bones. We could both feel it. Above, white puffy clouds were pushing off the Sierra. "I'll tell you though, Jack," Alex said breaking several minutes of silence, "I have figured out a way for you to get published. No question about it. Just string together that whole series of dreams. Your dream journal. Write it exactly as you dreamed it. No revision, no plot. Just a vivid recreation of all the detail. Call it, 'Dreams of a Madman.' Instant success!" When his laughter died down, I had a little laugh of my own. "Well, you don't know. You haven't read the latest revision of the Alaska novel. I've inserted a whole series of dreams. Dreams that I've had in the past two years while rewriting. You wouldn't believe how they tie right in. What I'm trying to do is carry out what Jung calls the individuation process, to examine personal dreams that will lead to the collective. "Like there's this dream I had last week. I'm in a long empty hospital corridor. A doctor in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck Click here to read the rest of this story (92 more lines)
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