As I suggested in yesterday's entry, I did, in fact, buy an alien-green KIA Soul. It did get delivered, and I'm tickled, er, green. I got a stick-shift for various reasons, but it's definitely more fun. The last time I had a stick, it was an early 1980's Honda Prelude. That was before they looked like everything else.
This all came about because my Mountaineer had three times gone dead on me in the parking lot. First time I replaced the battery; a couple of months later it happened again, and the shop I took it to replaced an electrical switch. Then a month later it happened again, and the tow truck driver said it was loose cables. The shop supervisor, who had checked the job the last time, said "No way" (and I was inclined to agree with him). He said they "couldn't find anything wrong with it." So, it's a Ford, it has over 108,000 miles on it, and I know that from here on out I'll be having nothing but trouble until it finally dies. I don't like driving a gas-guzzler like that, anyway. I bought it for my video production business in 2006, but that business tanked at the very beginning of the recession (video production is like the canary in the mine), and I've been driving it ever since. It was time.
Be patient, I'm getting around to it, here...
My problem is, I have to sell this SUV which may or may not have a "ghost" problem. Many people would just conveniently neglect to mention it. I can't do that, because, as I've stated in this blog a hundred times, since my late teens I've been practicing strict honesty as a spiritual discipline. So in the ad, I made a list of all the known problems, and I included this one. I knocked a considerable amount off the price to compensate, and put my best foot forward by saying that if it's nothing, the buyer benefits.
I've had three "bites." The first was a family man who wants a temporary vehicle for his wife, until he can buy her a new one. I told him, "Well, it wouldn't be good for her to get stranded in a parking lot at night somewhere." He knew some mechanics, and didn't seem too worried about it, but I'm guessing his wife immediately saw the problem, because I didn't hear back from him. You see, I don't want anything like that on my karmic plate; it's bad enough for me to be stranded and have to walk 16 blocks in a hurry, to get back to the house before my 97-year-old mother wakes up.
The next guy who contacted me by response e-mail sounded suspicious. Would I take more pictures? Exactly why was I selling it? It's like, I'm starting out honest, and he still doesn't believe me--there has to be some other catch, he thinks. Something bothers me about this guy. I'm hoping I don't have to deal with him.
Then, the last fellow, also a family man, is from a neighboring state, where they require inspection (mine doesn't). He was trying to figure out the logistics of that. Whether he'll follow through or not, I don't know. But I'm beginning to think I'm going to have this SUV on my hands for awhile, if I persist in being honest about the starting problem.
Now. You knew I was coming to this--but if I really am honest, then I've been honest about everything connected with this study. That eliminates the skeptical explanation of fraud. My evidence, itself, is so intrinsically compelling, that self-delusion is the only explanation left. And that objection, also, is defeated because of the method I have used. If I have been strictly honest about my method, and the results I obtained through it, then self-delusion doesn't explain this. Why? Go back through the last 3-4 entries. I can prove, through Archive.org's "Wayback Machine," that I remembered what I said I remembered, when I said I remembered it. And I can prove, through the historical record, that what I said I remembered, was right. Case closed.
The only recourse left to a skeptic, meaning, a cynic, is to ignore my work. And this is what's been happening. I am simply marginalized to such an extent, that effectively, I don't exist. Then, nobody has to deal with me, or my study, or my results. I just never happened in the first place.
But I am very confident in what I'm doing. I can keep up this level of investment indefinitely. I love to write--I can write a good essay like this every other day, for years, if I choose to. And I mean, each one has a theme, and I develop the theme properly. Can you write a competent essay every other day? Professional column writers get paid serious money to do that; but not everybody can. What passes for blogs out there is pretty sad, if you've had a chance to look around. Every few weeks, the writer tells you how they went to the grocery store and ran into their old schoolmate Sally, and how Sally's children have grown, and one of the twins is taking piano lessons, and the other gynmastics, and they like getting good at different things for a change, and all of that. I'm exaggerating, of course. Some.
I don't lie. Nothing in my study, or my presentation, is dishonest. I've also gone to great lengths to avoid skewing my interpretation "fondly." I've admitted making blunders numerous times. But as I've often explained, these blunders are almost always when I begin speculating. They don't happen when I'm recording my initial impressions and feelings. There's a lot that could be learned from my reactions to these historical data. Sometimes I recognized a piece of writing, or an image, or an event from my past life; and sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I didn't at first, but then it kind of dawned on me slowly. Sometimes it was a preconception I had (today, as Stephen) which got in the way. Some present-life prejudice or misunderstanding about Mathew's life; and when that was removed, I could see it. I've been strictly honest about all these reactions and their validations against the historical record, because I am trying to be both a subject and a researcher at the same time. This also means that when I remembered something unusual and detailed, which I had no possible way of knowing by normal means, and it turned out to have been real, I am reporting that honestly, too.
It seems to me someone should care, and by that, I mean, care enough to purchase my e-book and dedicate some time to it. Because this book takes both time and energy. I think it will reward the reader quite amply--but it is not a light read. And if you believe in Materialism, it will turn your world upside down.
But here's the problem--I always assume everyone else loves the Truth. I love the truth--I will sacrifice almost anything to get at the truth. I'll risk embarrassment--I'll even risk that terrible, sinking feeling of my entire world being wrong, to get at the truth. But most people don't love the truth that way. Truth, to many people, is a matter of convenience. If it suits them, they stand by it--but if it becomes inconvenient--as the truth about my car is inconvenient--it is bypassed.
So the problem is not that I am dishonest (nor self-deluded, which is a form of dishonesty with self). The problem is that my potential readers, perhaps, are not as honest as I am.
I love my Soul. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
Music opening this page: "Another Tricky Day" by The Who, from the album "Face Dances"