Raised in a small Oregon logging town where fighting, drinking, and God were the main entertainment, John had his first introduction to fighting and God in Sunday school. Drinking came later.
Ever since those Sunday school days, he has argued endlessly with himself about what God is. And when he gets tired of arguing with himself, he argues with God.
John began meditating when he was eighteen-years-old to impress his girlfriend. She found another boyfriend, but John, broken-hearted, continued to meditate, after punching his opposition in the nose.
John had a somewhat nomadic life. Hippie, soldier, commercial fisherman, student, drunk, newspaper reporter, freelance writer, insurance salesman, tree trimmer, cook, and construction worker were but a few of the jobs he tried. But throughout them all, he meditated. And he continued to argue with God.
Now he, John, not God, thinks he has something worthwhile to share about meditation, life, and how to be, if not happy, less miserable. Does he? Maybe, maybe not. You be the judge.
When he is not meditating or saving the world, John likes to walk in the woods near his home. He likes to play guitar and sing. He likes to dance like a wild man. And he likes to hug.
He loves his family and his friends. He loves the two cats and the woman who let him live in their house. And whenever he thinks he is enlightened, he remembers how he often wants to yell at his neighbor when her dogs bark and bark and bark at nothing. Nothing? Perhaps they are Buddhist dogs and they are chanting Om Mani Peme Hung in dogese?