The eeriest ride of my traveling career took me from Minnewaken, North Dakota into Chicago, Illinois.

A white Cadillac hearse driven by a man dressed completely in black pulled onto the shoulder. In spite of the bizarre appearance of the man and his vehicle, his presence made me as comfortable as if I was with family. A 55 year old’s very pale skin, white shoulder-length hair, otherworldly violet eyes, bright teeth, and a thin gold chain with a pentagram around his neck were the only things on the interior of the hearse that weren’t black. The tires were the only part of the exterior that wasn’t white. Entering his car felt like stepping into a photo negative of reality.

The electric windows rolled down and a smile that was much warmer looking than what it was driving said, “Throw your bag in the back and hop on in, son. Chicago’s not your best idea. But you seem to want to go, so I’ll get you there.”

Once in the passenger seat I said thank you and offered my name and handshake.

“I’m Elwood P. Sorcello,” my host responded. “My friends just call me Sourcie, except some of the kids at soccer camp. Sometimes they call me Uncle Sourcie, or Coach Sourcie, or Mr. Sourcie.” Mr. Sourcie seemed to have something extra working for him. He was always smiling, and he had read my mind.

I asked him about it. “How did you know I was going to Chicago?”

“You’ve got the blues written all over you, son. You need to guard against that downward spiral. Thought leads to action and one thing leads to another. You’re feeling bad and then you go somewhere you shouldn’t. You can end up keeping company that you shouldn’t keep and land in some bad situations. It’s as if your intuition was working in reverse. You might get sucked into a hole you can’t get out of. Then you start making excuses for why things got so raggedy—it’s the white folks, it’s the black folks, it’s the Congress, it’s your mama—anyone but you. Blaming external circumstances for your own life going to shit is like shooting yourself and blaming the bullet. Being an anonymous member of a big city could be exactly what you don’t need right now. Loneliness and the heartache that led to it each tend to make bad decisions. Alcohol and drugs block the positive vision as well as the pain. You’re going to have a productive and happy life, if you don’t get caught up in the whirlpool of your own bullshit. Always keep your eye on your attitude, son.”

This was dumbfounding. A stranger had just recounted my situation as if he’d been reading my mail. “Thanks, Mr. Sourcie. You’ve got some very important points to remember there, but don’t worry about me developing a gruesome future. Happy is what I’m heading toward in the long run—just got to clean some carbon out of my pipes, you might say. You know, just a little blowout with some live music. How do you know all my personal stuff, Sourcie? Are you psychic or something?”

“Intuition and observation,” answered my host. “Yep. It’s easy for me to look at and see you, in a deeper sense than you would usually use that word. For example, you’ve got the look of someone who’s had some influences, both chemical and experiential, I’m guessing, that have drastically expanded your outlook in a relatively short period of time.”

My reply offered Mr. Sorcello the five minute version of just how right he was.

His response was animated. “There you have it! A perfect example of what I’m talking about. Your intuition told you there was some better place to be than dealing dope on the streets of Coney Island. None of your friends whispered it in your ear. That intuition, the truest content of your deepest mind, is a thing you are not always conscious of. Being conscious of it does increase its potency, but even without being aware of what you were doing, your intuition led you out of that situation and into a better one. You landed in a better situation, one manufactured by your desires. Practice that intuition constantly by training yourself to actually hear your deepest voice and trust it. Stay vigilant against intrusions upon the structural integrity of that intuition—whether they come from inside or out. Do these two things and the fortified sense that you will develop can accomplish miraculous things.”

My host took five seconds to organize a thought and continued. “You know that old expression, ‘Be careful what you wish for, you might get it’? I’d change that to ‘Be aware of what you’re asking for and singularly focus on it, and you must eventually attain it.’ You will create your reality from your deepest thoughts. Self-evaluation allows you to regulate your thinking. It is indispensable within this process. Keep in touch with yourself! You have to make sure your thoughts stay in accord with what you want your life to produce.”

My brain was tired. Between all the education and trauma of the past few weeks, followed by days on the road, and now this guy reading my mind, every nerve I owned was now screaming for tranquilization. I wanted to jump out of the car at the next fluorescent BAR sign, but a bigger part of me knew that there was some powerful connection between myself and my host, and that this connection demanded more attention.

I bucked up, shut up, and listened as he continued. “Take, for example, your most recent traumatic experience. You’ve lost the person you love most and you’re not thinking as many happy thoughts as you did before. Sure, you’re a tough guy, but the effects are certainly being felt on some level. Unless you’re Christ or the Buddha, you haven’t yet learned to purify all human experience into simple love and compassion. Do you qualify?”

“Not yet,” I joked.

“Good! You have a sense of humor. You’re going to need it. Negativity will snowball unless you pull yourself out of it. Soon, everything in life can look like garbage. When you think you’re in a hostile world, your intuitive sense will warp in that direction. It will be on guard to defend against anything being thrown at you. At this point your life moves to produce the evidence that will validate its opinion of world-as-garbage. You gravitate toward things that aren’t good for you due to your belief that life is composed of situations you have to defend yourself against, instead of situations for you to enjoy. If you are thinking that everything sucks, you’ll end up where everything does. This is how people get caught in a downward spiral and screw up their whole lives by never recovering from one bad incident. On the other hand, if you choose to yank yourself back away from the bad experiences of your past and into the present tense toward happiness—well, you can see that there are various possible endings to the same story.”

Sourcie paused long enough for his violet eyes to look through me. It seemed he had intuited just how frazzled I was, and was deciding how much more I could take. “To answer your question about how my intuition developed to the point where I can know these things, well, much like yourself I’ve had a lot of growth-spurts-of-the-mind over the years. Also—and don’t let my intuition make you nervous here—much like yourself, I also committed to the effort to stay focused on producing positive counterparts to the historical bullshit that disables happiness. This positive motivation must be pointed at any and every person or situation that needs it. That includes your self. If one stays true to one’s good intention, one will find the ways and means to accomplish it. The intuitive powers that accompany such circumstances allow me to do such things as see you better. Understand?”

I didn’t understand completely and told him so. “Maybe some. Are you saying that you want to help—any and everybody—and since my feeling about that is similar to yours, we’re kind of in the same club, or group, or something? Maybe that opens unusual channels of communication between us and makes it even easier to see and know each other? Like being on the same wavelength or something?”

My host gave a nod and smiled as he spoke. “Well...that’s not the whole story, but that’s basically it. Intuition goes everywhere, but if you have a similar mindset as someone else, or as you say, are ‘on the same wavelength,’ there’s more of an available link there. That link not only makes deeper communication easier, it can actually orchestrate the encounters that give us those opportunities for deeper communication.”

“As they have in this case?” I asked.

“So it seems,” agreed my host. “Heed me, my brother. During the coming year you will run into opportunities to conquer adversity and opportunities to die. The deciding factor regarding whether you end up in a hellish or heavenly circumstance will be how completely you remember what we are speaking of now. If you stay focused on creating the positive in aspects both great and small, then you will thrive—and you will always be able to communicate on many planes with your brothers and sisters who are the peaceful warriors of like mind, the ones who are working with a similar motivation. If you lose sight of your purpose and become too self-involved, your early death is not impossible. This is a crucial period. Good decisions this year will make your life smoother for a very long time.”

Sourcie gave me a comforting smile and jerked his head toward the ashtray. “There’s some excellent green bud in that baggie in the ashtray and we’ve got a long ride ahead. Feel free to buzz up and nap out. I’ll smoke when I’m done driving.”

After thanking my new uncle I started to roll the weed, but stopped to admire it first. It was a thing of beauty. I’d smoked ganja from every part of the world but had never seen anything like this stuff before. A green that would make an emerald feel pale was set off by thousands of crystalline structures resembling diamonds. Once it was processed and lit, the smell itself was enough to make me dizzy. The smoke was pure ganja, but with the feeling of a magic mushroom coupled with the relaxing aspects of opium. It was brilliant.

For the next hour we talked about music and books, and told jokes. We were either laughing or smiling the whole time until sleep overtook me.

* * *

The sun woke me about 20 miles outside of Chicago.

Sourcie ran a concerned relative’s conversation. “Got enough money? Where do you think you’re going to stay?” and the like.

Thanking him for his concern, I assured Sourcie that all would be fine.

He seemed to believe me.

As he pulled the hearse over to a curb in downtown Chicago, Uncle narrowed his eyes and spoke into me. “This isn’t the best place for you, son. But it seems like everyone has to make their own decisions and live their own lives. Stay awake, aware, and alive. You’ll have more important tasks later, but for now that will do. Make sure all your decisions bring you into a direction that you want to be traveling in. And hey, go read some Alice Bailey. You’ll get smarter quicker.”

When Sourcie dropped me off in Chicago it felt as if the strength of a whole army of benevolent friends was marching in with me.

If I’d had a tail, it would have been wagging.

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