As readers of "My Experience at Celebrate Your Life 2008" know, I am a huge fan of Neale Donald Walsch. He is my favorite author on this earth, a man whose words changed my life many moons ago. This past week, I went to Ashland, Oregon for his Annual Holiday Retreat. I'd never been to the Pacific Northwest and was actually hoping to spot a Bigfoot while there. The temperature in Oregon was 10-15 degrees warmer that what it was in Minnesota, so instead of wearing a winter jacket, I wore, well, I still wore my winter jacket, but sometimes in the middle of the day, I was able to unzip it a tad.

But let's start from the beginning: My beloved wife and I were driven from Rochester, MN to the Minneapolis airport in the early afternoon on Saturday, December 27th of 2008. I was a bit concerned about leaving the dog and cat behind, a bit afraid that the cat might sneak out when the sitter wasn't looking or that our Pomeranian, Zoe, would run out the front door and take off.



Unfortunately, she's not afraid of cars, so a careful eye must be paid. Not only was I a bit anxious about the pet situation, but just after I got out of the shower that morning, I felt a bad pain in my neck. This had happened to me a couple months ago and lasted off and on for about three weeks. Christ, what a day to get it again. In addition, my wife had come down with a cold a couple days prior and still had it that morning.

I sat in the back seat with my ear plugs on while my wife and her friend chatted in front. Neale typically ends his books with the date he finished them followed by the words, "Ashland, Oregon". It brought me great joy to know I would visiting him in his hood, the place where he was inspired to write the first book all those years ago. Before proceeding to the airport, we stopped at IHOP, a restaurant my wife has wonderful memories of, but which has no outlet within an hour of where we live. It was going to be a long day on the road, but I was sure that, like all things, in the end, it would be worth it.

Upon our arrival at the airport, we checked our baggage and headed through security. Just after I went through the checkpoint, the TSA representative said he'd been afraid my belt was gonna set off the alarm, but it just missed doing so. My wife wasn't so lucky: she was wearing a pair of jeans that had a couple small metal rings on them. The TSA dude padded her down, but since the mechanism was still going off, he asked her if she could take the heavy sweatshirt she was wearing off. My beloved replied, "I'm not wearing anything underneath this". I was sitting down tying my shoes as I observed this and couldn't help chuckling a bit. They ended up letting her through without having to disrobe. A moment later, she cursed under her breath at the perceived offense. We'd gotten off to a rousing start.

Video of Neale speaking to give you a taste of what he's about:



While we waited at the airport, I wondered which of the restrooms Republican Congressman Larry Craig had been caught soliciting in some time ago. I also looked carefully at all the people I passed; perhaps I'd recognize someone famous if I stayed sharp.

At the last minute, I'd decided to bring along a camcorder my mother had given me (I'm to film her wedding with it six months from now, but she gave it to me several months ahead of time so I would be familiar with its features). While at the airport, I noticed you could set it for widescreen (with black borders on the top and bottom). I decided I wanted to tape in this setting for something different and also because I find watching things in this format more aesthetically pleasing. One of my favorite things to do with a video camera is to tape complete strangers unawares. This is easier to do when you keep the camera down and don't make it obvious what you're doing. I was able to tape several people just doing what they do. I caught a guy wearing a Bears jacket munching on a Pita.

Time finally came for us to board for the 200 minute flight. We ended up sitting just one row behind the first class section. So close, but so far away. *sigh* I put my ear plugs on as soon as I entered the plane (the plugs make it easier for me to keep my preferred state of mind). I was pleasantly surprised to see the guy next to me wearing some as well (his were orange, however, not green like mine). I'd forgotten how cramped airplanes feel and consider myself lucky that this was only the second trip of the 00's in which I had to utilize air transport. I made sure to stretch before boarding. As is typical these days, the plane was full.

Shortly after we took off, I leaned the seat back, dug out my headphones and listened to The Beatles Anthology 1. A very interesting thing happened during the flight: on several occasions, I closed my eyes and went into a light meditative state. As the plane buckled a bit from time to time, I found that I wouldn't have minded if the plane went down. I didn't want it to go down, but wouldn't have been too disturbed if it had. In those minutes, I let go of all preferences.

I went to the bathroom once while on the plane. Talk about cramped. Thank God I didn't have to "make a shit" as Borat would say. I couldn't believe the number of people watching movies on their portable DVD players. One joker was viewing "The Dark Knight" while another had a Morgan Freeman movie on. It felt great to get off the plane once we landed in Seattle (at around 8pm). During our layover, we'd have time to get a bite to eat and explore the airport a bit. There weren't too many choices at the food court (unless you like fish), so we opted for Wendy's where I got a fish sandwich. jk. I bought a burger, fries, and my favorite soft drink, Hi-C Fruit Punch.

Next, we headed for the terminal where our flight would be departing. As we sat, I people-watched a bit. Many people were returning home for the holidays. One lady, in particular, was quite pleased to be back; as she headed for baggage claim, she said to her significant other: "Thank God we're home". This made me think a bit about what it'd be like to live in the biggest city in Washington. Other than the rainy weather, I can't say I'd mind it too much. It was probably no coincidence that I saw a ton of emo's while seated there.

Before long, the time to board for the flight to Medford, Oregon had arrived. This marked the first time in memory that I had to go outside to get on a plane. It was a Horizon aircraft, about half the size of the Alaska Airlines craft we'd traveled in to get to the Emerald City. I was happy to see we were seated near the back of the plane where there were less people. This flight would take just over an hour and bring us another step closer to Ashland. This goofball in front of me leaned his seat back almost immediately. I was tempted to call him a "butt-nugget", but thought better of it.

Early in the flight, the plane encountered some turbulance and my wife made a plea to God to watch over us. Being a big fan of roller coasters, I kinda enjoyed it. We had to make an unplanned stop in Portland as there were some stranded passengers there. The flight attendant thanked us for allowing them to make the stop, like we had a choice in the matter (we should've gotten a credit for our consideration). My wife started to drift off near the end of the flight and actually raised her arms in fright as we touched down, so startled was she by the landing.

Shortly after midnight, we picked up our luggage. The next step was getting a taxi to take us the final twelve miles to Ashland. I called an airport shuttle service and asked for them to come out and get us. They said there was already someone there, to go outside and ask the driver if there would be room for us. There was, just barely. I wondered if any of the other people in the van were going to the retreat as well. The temp was about 35 degrees, definitely warmer than Minnesota. Even though this wasn't a true vacation, it would be nice to get a break from the harshness of our home state.

All the other passengers got off at the Ashland Springs Hotel. This was easily the best place in town to stay, but was priced at a too-rich-for-us $150 a night. It was much more economically feasible for us to stay at the Columbia Hotel ($85). As the driver took our luggage out of the van, I asked him if Ashland got much snow. He said they rarely do and when it does come, it rarely stays. I was surprised to hear this. For the past several months, I'd been expecting there to be snow when we arrived. Guess I shouda done my homework. Can't say this bothered me too much, though, as walking around town when it's in the 40's is much more pleasant than strolling around in sub-freezing temps.

The night manager of the Columbia had left our room keys in an envelope at the front desk. The hotel was quiet as we entered room number five. As I brought our bags in, my wife looked at me disappointedly and said, "Honey, there's no television". I found this somewhat hard to believe, so took a look myself. She was right, no telly. I said that we probably wouldn't have much time to watch, anyway. She asked if the lounge had a boob tube. I walked out there and again, no luck. I was a tad bummed because I had been looking forward to seeing the Vikings and Giants play the following afternoon (the retreat didn't officially start until 7pm). I figured I'd look around town when I woke up and hopefully there'd be a bar showing the game. Ultimately, it didn't matter, though, since seeing Neale again was all I was really concerned with.

The reason why the Columbia doesn't have TV's is because it's meant to be a trip back in time to the 1920's (there are also no phones in the room and you have to go down the hall to take a shower). There was a day bed in our room and a clawtub in the bathroom. And, of course, the effect wouldn't be complete without a number of doilies. The hotel actually smelled like my grandmother's house (she passed in the early 90's). Here's a picture of the room we stayed in:



As I drifted off to sleep, my neck was still hurting, but hey, we'd made it. Tomorrow would be the first of five straight days spent with my favorite author.

It was probably no coincidence I dreamt about my grandmother that night. The smell of the hotel had done the trick. If I had smelled a pack of Bazooka Joe the night before, I'm sure I would've had a dream about my childhood. I woke up at almost exactly 10am which was the start time of the Vikings-Giants game on the Pacific coast. I headed to the hallway showers. It took several minutes for me to get the hot water to come (I think they've got the 1920's thing down almost too good), but at last, it did. I quickly got dressed and headed out to find a place where I could watch da game. My wife was still ill, so I left her a note where I was going to be. Typically, I put a note on the TV since watching it is the first thing she does when she gets up, after going to the bathroom, that is. Since there was no telly, I affixed my message to the top of the toilet.

Before leaving, I asked the desk clerk where the closest watering hole was. He said there was an Irish one right around the corner. I thanked him and went down more than two dozen stairs to get to the street. Ninety seconds later, I found the pub, but there was a note on the door that said they weren't opening until 4pm. Oh, bother. I quickly surmised that I was going to be mildly tempted on how strongly I held to the view that "nothing matters". As I walked the streets of Ashland, God told me that if I missed the game, it wouldn't be a big whoop.

However, my preference was to view it (sorry, God), so I continued peering into restaurants, first seeing if they were open and then if they had TV's. I went by one place called Louie's that had plenty of TV's, but wasn't open yet. It was quarter to 11. If there was a God, it would be open at 11. During my journey, I even stopped at the most ritzy hotel in town, but even they didn't have a TV in their lobby, just a bunch of newspapers.

As I continued my stroll, I noted that for a town of 20,000, Ashland had quite a few interesting places to see. The snow-covered mountains that faced one side of the town were breathtaking, like a scene out of "Lord of the Rings".



The sun was out and the temperature was a very pleasant 43 degrees. There were tons of book stores within a 10-block radius, just what one would expect from a town in the Pacific Northwest. I walked past a 5-screen movie theatre that was showing a film ("Synedoche, NY") that hadn't yet come to Rochester, a city five times its size. I noted that the downtown felt apart somehow from the real world, like a holding station that one goes to after death, but before heaven. The people I passed, many beautiful, seemed more calm and serene than the ones I typically see in Minnesota. Could it be that the town made them that way?

At just after 11, I walked by Louie's again and saw a waitress inside.



The door was unlocked, so I entered and quickly asked if the big-screen TV could be turned on to FOX. I knew that since I was in Oregon, the bars just had to be smoke-free. I sat at a high-top table and noticed that the pub had mirrors plastered on all of its walls. I don't typically like to look at my reflection, so this was a tad uncomfortable to me (not as uncomfortable, though, as having to miss the game).

I realized that I should probably order something even though I wasn't particularly hungry. I went with my old standby, a hamburger and fries. I noticed that Louie's served Hunt's ketchup, not Heinz. In the back of the bar was a small area that was completely surrounded by mirrors. What was inside, I wondered. While going to the bathroom, I found out: it was a video lottery room. Some poor sap was in there playing games. This was one of many restaurants in which the bathrooms were located in the basement. The wait staff was very friendly and the burger was quite good. The football game stayed pretty close as it moved into the second half.

A woman sitting behind me wearing a Yankees hat was quite loudly rooting for the Giants. Once her friend arrived, she asked why there weren't more people watching the game before realizing that since the games start much earlier on the West (10am), there's just not gonna be as many people coming in to get a brewski as there would be on the East coast (where the games start at 1pm). She called an Italian place since she was in the mood for pasta and told them she would dine there, but only if they had the game on. She ended up getting the food at the Italian place and bringing it back to Louie's (probably because of the bigger TV).

The guy with her was wondering why there wasn't any snow on the Vikings field. He said he thought that Minnesota gets a lot of snow. I didn't have the heart to tell him they played inside. Another guy at the bar was cheering when either team scored. We were like, WTF? He came up to us and said he was from Jersey and that he wanted the Giants to win, but that he wanted it to be close since his son likes Vikings running back Adrian Peterson. I looked forward to perusing some of Ashland's shops once the game ended.

Just before leaving the restaurant, I overheard someone talking about being in town for a retreat. I introduced myself and said I had come for the same reason. I mentioned all the hullabaloo going on with me staying at the Columbia and they said they were only paying about $90 a night to stay at the Ashland Springs Hotel. Not only did they have a TV in their room, but it was a widescreen LCD flat panel one! Turns out the hotel was giving discounts to those in town for the retreat. I knew then that my next stop would be the Ashland Springs. If they still had rooms, we could switch to livin' the good life and say goodbye to the roaring '20's. The game ended with my hometown team, the Vikings, winning 20-19. I knew I'd be back to Louie's later that week to once again enjoy the fine food and atmosphere.

As I walked to Ashland Springs, it really hit me that I was in Oregon. It felt great to be in the region where Neale had first been inspired more than a decade ago. The temperature had crept into the mid 40's as I entered the hotel. The desk clerk said they had a room for the 29th and 30th, but not for New Years Eve. That would mean we'd have to move to the more ritzy hotel for a couple days before winding up at the Columbia again. I decided I'd probably just stick with where we were at. One great aspect about the Columbia is how quiet it was. I'd actually begun to wonder if anyone else was staying there.

I stopped in our room to see how my wife was doing (it would still be a couple hours yet before we needed to register). She asked for more time as I picked up my video camera and headed out to film a bit. I asked the clerk if there were any places close by that had internet access. He said the public library was open for a couple more hours. I strode the four blocks there while camcordering a bit. The library was beautiful. The wood on the walls made me feel like I was in a log cabin. I was able to get 20 minutes on the internet before checking out a couple of the shops.

I went to the prototypical Oregon bookstore (Bloomsbury Books). It wasn't huge, but there were lots of people in there and the New Age section was right where it belonged: at the front of the store. In that section, there was a notation that said both Neale and James Twyman were local authors and that Neale's books were available signed. This was the first of four shops I went to that had cats residing in them, the kind of hometown touch that is so needed these days and one of the reasons why I find Wal-Mart so soul-sucking.

Next, I headed back to the Columbia to obtain my wife since registration time was drawing near. She said she wasn't sure if she'd be up to going. I told her I'd get her registered at least and that if she had to miss the night's session, she would be set up for the next day. I walked the 2 and a blocks to the Black Swan, the theatre where the retreat was taking place. I told the people in charge that due to illness, my wife might not make it that evening. They asked if I had a doctor's note to which I gave them a blank stare. jk

I went back to the hotel where I took a number of pictures, including one of myself in the bathroom mirror:



My wife ended up getting a last-minute burst of energy and was able to go with me to opening night. As we passed the front desk to leave the hotel, I noticed the clerk was working on a laptop. I said to him, "Isn't that cheating?". He said, "What do you mean?" I said, "Well, this is supposed to be like we in the '20's and you're on the information superhighway". He smiled and said, "I got the best of both worlds".

The sun had gone down and there was a soft drizzle as we entered the Black Swan. The venue was intimate with black curtains surrounding us on all sides. One could either sit in the risers or on the floor where a couple dozen video game chairs were placed along with plenty of cushions. I wanted to sit up front on the floor, but felt I could do this later in the week (I didn't want my girl to be unnecessarily uncomfortable when she was already feeling sick). We wound up sitting in a row that was fairly close to the stage, but which faced the left of it (I would end up regretting this since my neck hurt whenever I tilted it to the left or right. Straight-on next time, I promised myself).

There were a lot of smiling faces as Neale entered the room. He had a couple of musicians with him who opened the evening with song. Shortly thereafter, he gave us the rundown on what we would be discussing over the next several days. He took a good deal of questions from people. I asked if he planned to release a book in '09. He said he did, the title of it being "When Everything Changes, Change Everything". I looked forward to learning more about it.

Here's the first paragraph or so of the handout he gave us describing the process:

"During this program you are going to witness---and if you wish, participate in---a simple, yet remarkably effective approach to dealing with change in your life. In short, the approach is to "fight fire with fire"-that is, to deal with change by adding even more change. This approach emerges from the freedom-giving messages in the Conversations With God books and can be learned in one day. The Change Process is about understanding who you are and what is happening around you. And it is about who is directing that-and why."

The handout included step-by-step directions on how to utilize the Change Process. We were encouraged to give it a try that very evening as a homework assignment. I looked forward to getting into the clawtub and tackling it once we returned to the hotel.

An hour later, as my wife worked on the assignment seated in a chair, I disrobed and sat in the old-school tub:



It was certainly bigger than the standard one we had back home. As I waited for it to fill with water, my mind flashed back to two movies in which such a tub was shown: 1994's "Maverick" starring Mel Gibson and 2000's "What Lies Beneath" in which Harrison Ford's character tries to murder Michelle Pfeiffer while she's immersed in one (what a shock to see Harrison as a bad guy).

I'm sure that many of the other people at the retreat had major concerns on their mind when they answered the questions below, but my biggest problem is that I don't have any major issues going on in my life at the moment. Since I want to give you an idea of how the process works, however, I'll share what I answered. Feel free to try it on your own.

Q. Think of any experience that you are having in your life right now that you would like to change. Describe it in 10 words or less.

A. I'll like to lose 8 pounds.

Q. Good. Now tell me, what is your mind actually thinking when you are having this experience that you want to change?

A. That I'm at a healthy weight, but six months ago, I weighed even less.

Q. With regard to the experience you have described that you would like to change, what is causing that experience? Is something that is happening causing that experience? Or is it nothing that is happening, but something you are thinking, that is causing the experience?

A. It is something that I am thinking.

Q. Now, ask youself, why I am choosing to feel this way?

A. I don't know.

Q. What would you say if you thought you knew?

A. *my mind spins*

Q. While you ponder this, let's go from your Thought Space to your Home. Let's go from Hell to Heaven. Hell is to be in your thoughts. Heaven is to be fully present, Right Here, Right Now. This is where Joy is, this is where Peace is, this is where Love is. So let's get out of your mind and into Mindfulness. Ironically, Mindfulness really means Mindemptiness. So let's empty your mind of all these thoughts and fill your senses with awareness, rather than ideas.

Observe what is going on right here, right now exterior to yourself. Observe how you feel about that and decide to feel good about having that feeling. Stay with your authentic feeling and feel good about it. This is the way to be happy all the time.

Remember this always: Feelings are based on ideas that you have about a thing. Ideas are based on a thought that you hold in your mind. None of this is real. You are making this all up.

I woke up the next morning eager to learn (or should I say, remember) more from NDW. Unlike the Ashland Springs Hotel, the Columbia didn't offer a continental breakfast, so it was up to us to find some food before the day's session started at 9. The schedule for the next two days was quite ambitious; starting at 9am and not ending until 10pm (the only breaks being 90 minutes for lunch, 90 minutes for dinner, and a couple chances to stretch). My neck wasn't quite as bad as the day before, but I was nowhere near healed, either. Neale would say I was having "health opportunities".

There was a cafe a couple blocks from our hotel called Geppetto's.



(I sat in the corner seat where the cowboy is pictured). They were just opening as we went in. My wife asked if we could be in and out relatively quickly. The waitress said we would. I was in the mood for pancakes, but when the waitress said they were out of orange juice, I quickly lost my appetite (I'm lactose, so don't like milk, am not a fan of tea or coffee, and definitely didn't want to have cakes with pop). I figured I could wait until lunchtime to have something (Neale's spiritual food would nourish me for the next few hours). My life partner had pancakes with Diet Coke. As she got close to finishing, I went downstairs to the bathroom. When I returned, we were on our way. My girl said that in my absence, the waitress had told her that she spoke with an accent ("You're not from around here, are you?"). It's weird to think that how one talks is accented, but I suppose it's true.

As we headed to our first full-day session, there was a bit of drizzling though the sun was shining. Just then, I noticed a full rainbow in the sky. I don't know how often Ashland experiences these, but I was quite comforted. We got to the Swan early enough for me to find a better seat than we had the night before. We picked two corner seats that were away from the stage lights, in the back (third) row, and facing Neale relatively straight on. I still longed to get closer, but felt it could wait a tad.

Neale said he would demonstrate to us how the Change Process works, that members of the audience would have the opportunity to come up, sit in a chair next to him, and go through it step-by-step. I can't get into specifics, but I saw an incredible amount of healing in those last few days of 2008. Most of the people questioned understood that it was they who were responsible for what was showing up in their life (most people don't ever get that far).

When it came time for Neale to ask, "Why did you create this?", many would say, "I don't know", and quite a few chuckles would arise when he would fire back, "What would you say if you thought you knew?". The replies he wound up getting from this question were incredibly profound and had an air of eternal truth about them. Neale asked if we could see value in this process and no one could argue. One could go to therapy for years and not get to the truths that Neale uncovered in 10 minutes.

One person who got on stage was stumped partway through and said he was afraid to say "I don't know" because he knew what Neale's response was going to be. On the last morning, Neale said to someone in the audience who was waffling, "Come on, say "I don't know". In the end, not a small amount of tears were shed and a good number of people who had been in great pain earlier in the day looked many moons younger a short time later.

On the morning break, while taking a short walk (sans jacket), I noticed a young male in front of Starbucks. He had a cardboard sign in his hand that said, "Haven't eaten in 2 days". I was about to look through my wallet for a couple bucks when I saw a man give the panhandler a 5 and say, "This should be good for breakfast". I wondered if the man had deliberately set up camp there, knowing a spiritual retreat was taking place right next door with dozens of people who were in a giving mood.

When we returned, Neale began talking a bit about living in the present moment. He explained how the moments are rare when we are fully present, not dwelling on the past or thinking about the future. He snapped his fingers as a way of showing us how to concentrate on this instant and this instant alone. It takes practice, there's no doubt about that. I made a conscious effort during the retreat to just look at what was in front of me, to really listen to what was being said. Course there was no place I'd rather be than at Neale's retreat, so it wasn't too hard to do so. Trying to keep my mind quiet while resting in bed, well, that's another story...unless it's not.

We adjourned at 12:30 for a 90-minute lunch break. My wife said she'd like to try the Pita place across the street. Though I'd never had a Pita before, I was more than willing. After all, it's just a sub with a different covering (kinda like all of life). I ordered the turkey and chuckled as I saw on the menu board that one could get extra hummus for $.75. I remember going to Adam Sandler's "You Don't Mess With The Zohan" during the summer (it had at least a half dozen gags that involved hummus). The guy in front of me actually ordered some on the side. I was not at all surprised to find out a few minutes later that he was a native New Yorker. About a half-dozen people from the retreat chose to eat at the Pita Pit. I need'nt tell you that there were quite a few happy people having lunch there. I actually found the Pita to be a bit more appealing than a Sub (I'm not the biggest fan of bread). We had some time, so we walked back to the hotel where I took a 20-minute bath. The clawtub was fast becoming my friend.

During the afternoon, Neale addressed a couple of the more skeptical people who had come to the retreat. Their questions were quite valid and Neale made sure to state that he had no desire to convert anyone, just to speak his truth and that if it has value for someone else, so much the better. One person said he'd probably be more content if he had just a little more money. Neale tried to assure him that this most likely wouldn't be the fix he thought it was and to try giving some away as a means to feeling more abundant.

For the dinner break, I took my love to Louie's, the bar and restaurant I'd watch the football game in the day before. She loved the fries (they reminded her of the kind you can get in Chicago). One person came in from the retreat, but he got his food to go. We browsed a few shops before returning to the Swan.

One thing I hadn't expected was the amount of laughter Neale would provide. So clever and smart and quick-witted. He was a radio announcer for many years and these skills were on prominent display throughout the week.



I was often the first to laugh at a joke. I'm not sure if this is because I get the joke a fraction of a second before everyone else or because others are afraid to laugh until someone else does. Either way, I probably haven't laughed so much over so many days in decades. As our session ended and we walked back to the hotel, I noticed that my neck pain was getting less severe. Could it be the passage of time, being in the presence of other highly spiritual people, the amount of times I'd laughed in the past 24 hours? I couldn't be sure, but no matter; I looked forward to continuing the adventure the next day.

The following morning, my wife and I got up early enough to once again go to Geppetto's for breakfast. They still didn't have orange juice, but no matter, I wasn't going without pancakes this time. Thankfully, I didn't have to drink soda with it as the waiter said they had pineapple juice. I'd not had the stuff in well over a decade and it really hit the spot.

While we waited for our food, a gentleman of Asian descent came in for some grub. Normally, I would just let him go about his business and not say anything, but the air in Ashland (or maybe just all the positivity associated with the retreat) caused me to reach out and have a conversation with him. He said he was retired and loved living in the city with his wife. He'd heard about how cold Minnesota was and said he was glad he didn't have to live in such an extreme climate. We conversated about a few other things as our meals came. Very nice man and a regular to the cafe. We said our goodbyes and headed for the Swan.

During the morning session, a man shared an excellent joke. Its moral is that one shouldn't assume that one event is causing another even though they may appear to be related:

"An older Jewish gentleman marries a younger lady and they are very much in love. However, no matter what the husband does sexually, the woman never achieves orgasm. Since a Jewish wife is entitled to sexual pleasure, they decide to ask the rabbi.

The rabbi listens to their story, strokes his beard, and makes the following suggestion. "Hire a strapping young man. While the two of you are making love, have the young man shake a rattle over you. That will help the wife fantasize and should bring on an orgasm."

They go home and follow the rabbi's advice. They hire a handsome young man and he shakes a rattle over them as they make love. But it doesn't help and she is still unsatisfied. Perplexed, they go back to the rabbi.

"Okay", says the rabbi, "let's try it reversed. Have the young man make love to your wife and you shake the rattle over them."

Once again, they follow the rabbi's advice. The young man gets into bed with the wife and the husband shakes the rattle. The young man gets to work with great enthusiasm and the wife soon has an enormous, room-shaking screaming orgasm.

The husband smiles, looks at the young man and says to him triumphantly, "Now THAT'S how you shake a rattle!!"

The crowd went wild after the punchline and it was referred back to a number of times over the remainder of our time there.

During our morning break, my wife and I went to Starbucks and saw the Asian man from the cafe seated in a booth and reading a book. I smiled and waved at him. As we waited in the Swan for the session to resume, I said to my wife that while in the bathroom, I noticed that Neale was in one of the stalls and making a good deal of noise. She said, "You're kidding, right?" I told her I was, but imagine my surprise about 45 minutes later when the opportunity arose to share the joke with the entire room, including Neale. Much laughter followed with my wife saying to the people seated nearby, "I don't know him".

For the second day in a row, we went to the Pita Pit for lunch. Nothing of note occured there.

I felt it was now time to try to sit a bit closer to The Man. On the floor of the stage, there were three rows of what looked like video game chairs (they sat directly on the floor, but did have a backing that could be reclined a bit). They didn't look too comfortable, but thankfully, there were a number of large pillows that one could put over the chair to reduce discomfort on the keister. I told my beloved that if she got uncomfortable, she could just head back up to the bleacher area.

It was much brighter down there on the floor. I felt much more like I was a part of the action. I didn't have the cajones to sit in the very front, but being in the third row off to the right was a definite improvement over our former position. It was much easier to concentrate on the present moment with less distraction in front of me (this is why I like to sit quite close when going to a movie theatre. Side note: Slumdog Millionaire is a fantastic movie. It is the odds on fave to win Best Pic in 3 weeks).

My neck pain was all but gone by this point. I asked my life partner if she'd like to go to a clinic to get checked out that evening, but she didn't want to be sitting in a health care facility for many hours. She said she'd wait until we returned to 'Sota. Many times when Neale came from behind the black curtain, my girl would say, "There he (He?) is".

After a number of people mentioned that they were often tortured wondering why something had happened to them, Neale talked about how the important question is not "Why", but "What" as in what do you choose to do now that the thing in question has occured.

In a similar vein, Neale had an excellent game he played with a number of contestants, I mean, people. It was called, "What Would Happen If?" Here's an example of how it worked:

Tom: I'm afraid of losing my job.

Neale: What would happen if you lost your job?

Tom: I would be sad for a time and might have trouble finding another one.

Neale: What would happen if you had trouble finding another job?

Tom: Well, it'd be tough going for a while.

Neale: What would happen if the going got tough?

Tom: It would probably give me a greater opportunity to concentrate on the things that are really important in my life: family, friends, my pets. It might even give me the chance to do some self-improvement work.

Pretty much everyone Neale did this with wound up with answers they hadn't expected. Even if the things they feared actually came to pass (which many times they don't), they'd still be OK and might even come out of it stronger.

During the dinner break, we headed over to Louie's for a burger and fries. We were quite stunned to see the place completely packed, the occasion being a Bowl Game in which one of Oregon's college football teams was participating. A tad disappointed, we saw some natives and asked them the location of a pizza place we'd heard good things about. They said the Creekside Pizza Bistro was about three blocks away.

We followed a circuitous route along a creek where there were a number of restaurants. I was getting quite cold as I finally saw a rather inconspicuous sign directing us to the Italian eatery. We descended a number of stairs. Though the place was busy, there were a number of booths and tables open. The boys in the booth next to us had to move their skateboards so we could pass through.

The game was being projected on a huge screen. People were playing pool. It really was a great atmosphere and I again thought about how cool it'd be to live in the Pacific Northwest. For those who've yet to go there, imagine a place where woodpaneling is still king and you've but a taste of why I feel as I do. The people also seemed a bit more happy than what I'm used to seeing in the North Star state. I smiled at some young boys who were growing impatient for their food to arrive. The pizza was incredible, perhaps the best I've ever had. I knew I'd do all in my power to return to the eatery before our departure two days hence.

After a couple more hours spent with Neale, we returned to our hotel and went to bed. 2009 was just 25 hours away.

Assuming that Geppetto's wasn't gonna be open on New Years Eve and wanting to get an extra bit of sleep, the wife and I didn't leave the Columbia until 8:30am. We had very much enjoyed sitting in the video game chairs on the floor the day before and looked forward to continuing doing so.

After browsing a bit over the past couple days at the books and CD's available in the Black Swan's back room, I decided that I'd like to get Conversations Book III (my personal favorite) on CD. Priced at $35, it was an 8-disc set. A month and a half later, I've yet to listen to any of it, but I do plan to.

My wife was told that What God Wants would be a good starting point for her, so talked about getting the 4-disc CD of it. I said she could just read the book I had of it at home, but she stated that she likes listening to books better. I gave in and was pleased when she listened to the first 2 and a half discs on the plane ride home.

We each also were given buttons that said "I am the hope of humanity" on them. Others in our group wore them. I've yet to put it on my winter jacket. I'll probably just put it on one of my Members Only jackets this spring and wait for the reactions from cashiers and what-not to pour in ("What a conceited prick!").

That evening, there was a big dinner planned at Ashland Springs for all attendees who agreed to pay the extra $45 for it. As far as I'm concerned, no meal is worth $45, so the wife and I didn't sign up for it. We planned to get a burger at Louie's while everyone else ate like there was no recession. Imagine our surprise when we were told that someone had offered to pay for the meals of 4 attendees who couldn't afford to go. On the next break, I went to the back room and said we were interested in attending on a "scholarship" basis.

We continued to take in a lot of good knowledge from Neale (and his Mrs. from time to time). One of the songs sang was "I am the hope of humanity". Good stuff.

Since we wouldn't be going to Louie's in the evening, we decided to hit it up for lunch. This would be our last visit to the Irish pub and we made sure to take everything in. I went downstairs to the bathroom one more time and thought how cool it'd be if all restaurants had this option. I thought about how happy I was to be spending the last day of 2008 in Ashland.

During the afternoon, I told the group that every morning while taking a shower, I recited the Five Attitudes of God from the Friendship book: "I am joyful, I am loving, I am accepting, I am blessing, I am grateful".

In the early evening, Neale was asked how to deal with religious friends who might turn away from one if it was known that they subscribed to the New Thought movement. Neale's answer was incredibly moving. He said one shouldn't be inauthentic for one moment, that if you are, your friends will have no idea who you really are.

He asked, "Why is it so hard to state one's beliefs to family and friends? What kind of family and friends are they if they do not accept you as you really are?", that "I'd rather have someone reject me for being who I am, than accept me for being who I am not." It reminded me of the line, "betrayal of yourself in order not to betray another is betrayal nonetheless".

The plans for that evening, New Years Eve, were quite ambitious. We adjourned in the late afternoon so that we could all go to our hotel rooms and put on our finest for the $40+ dinner at the Ashland Springs Hotel. After eating, we would return to the Black Swan to talk some more before adjourning again at around 11pm. At 11:30, we would meet up again at the banquet hall where we had dined so that those of us who had New Years' resolutions could share them with the rest of the group. We would then welcome in the New Year with drink (if we were so inclined) and disco dancing.

My wife and I headed to the Columbia and gussied up a tad. We were quite happy that we didn't have to pay a dime for the fancy dinner. We walked to the Ashland and stepped into the banquet hall about 15 minutes after the scheduled start (this was intentional as I knew there was to be some socializing before any food was served). I asked a maitre' d if I could have a soft drink. He responded that the agreement was just that they have coffee and water available. What a rip-off! I told my wife I was going to get something liquidy out of the vending machine.

I found a dispenser on the 3rd floor (it was just outside). This was actually the 2nd time I'd been serviced by the machine; we'd been there the night before to find some chocolate to munch on before going to sleep. It was there that we petted a cat, a cat that we found out was the hotel's (shades of the shop cats we'd seen over the past few days). The cat was there yet again as I put money in for a 20 ounce container of Gatorade (I also got some juice for my beloved).

Upon my return, I found a seat and asked for a cup of ice in which to put my tasty beverage. Ah, that's much better now. I feel almost human. A few minutes later, we got in the buffet line. Neale hadn't shown yet, but had every right to be fashionably late. I'm a relatively small portion guy, so just took some chicken, a bit of mashed potatoes and something else that escapes my mind at the moment (I knew I shoulda took more detailed notes). My wife piled it on as she was aiming to get her money's worth. We sat down and began eating. The chicken wasn't bad, but it was several degrees inferior to what was served at our wedding 10 years prior. The other stuff was mostly rubbish. I wondered if any of the others felt the same. No one was letting on at this point.

Neale and his life partner entered the room shortly thereafter. Neale was wearing a snazzy black leather jacket; very hip, I have to say.



He was sitting in the table behind us, no more than 12 feet from me. He didn't make any grand statements, just ate quietly with the people who had been fortunate enough to sit at the "right" table. I tried two desserts hoping for better luck, but again, both were shit. My wife actually liked one of the items I didn't have the heart to finish. OMG. I can't believe how many sentences I'm using just talking about this meal. My wife didn't even drink the juice I'd bought her (perhaps peer pressure led her to drink the water others were having). There was decent conversation as we got to know a few of the people at our table better. One lady was wondering what Neale thought about 2012. I just shook my head.

About 12 minutes later, Neale took off (perhaps to take a power nap). After a time, we did as well. Back at the hotel, we relaxed for a bit before heading back to the Swan. I noticed everyone's spirits steadily rising as it got closer to midnight. People started taking pictures of Neale, something I hadn't seen yet that week. Neale continued to tell amusing stories, I continued to laugh my touchis off.

We adjourned shortly before 11 to have some quiet time in our rooms and think about the resolutions we sought to make for 2009. Back again at the Columbia, I have to say I was quite spent and knew that I was only in for more of the same (we had to be up at around 8am for our last session with Neale and wouldn't get back home until about 10am the following day. Since I can't sleep on the airplane, that meant I would be up for at least 26 straight hours).

Not wanting to miss the New Years' Resolution party, but also knowing that a couple extra hours of sleep would do me worlds of good, I reluctantly decided to go to bed while the others celebrated. I certainly had misgivings about missing the party, but was really dragging and felt being sharp for the next morning's session was the more important thing (especially since Neale probably wouldn't be speaking as much once the DJ started kickin' up the tunes). I looked forward to hearing about what occurred at the party the following day.

I woke up 8 hours later rejuvenated and ready for the big finish. We got to the Swan earlier than most to make sure we had good seats for the final three hours. A young guy who sat in front of us asked if we were OK (probably alluding to the fact that we missed the party the night before). I said we were fine. It was now 2009. Obama would be inaugurated in 3 weeks. A number of people came into the theatre with a cup of coffee in their hand and a bit of a haggard look on their face. Some of them mentioned being up until 2 or 3.

As the morning passed, I found out that not everyone revealed a resolution the night before. Many were content to just let others reveal theirs (I didn't have one in mind myself). Once it struck midnight, a good deal of partying took place. A number of patrons went to the bar and brought drinks back up with them to the banquet hall (though Book 1 clearly states that the body is not meant to intake alcohol...some people just aren't as far along, I guess).

There was one thing I missed that had I known it would be taking place might've changed my mind about skipping the party: a number of the younger blokes did some breakdancing. I've not seen that first-hand since, oh, probably since Reagan was President. That would've been quite a sight, but like the old-saying goes, you snooze, you lose.

Neale came out for the last time in a long-sleeve white shirt. The session was bittersweet; we'd laughed and loved so much over the past five days and were a tad sad that it was coming to an end, but oh what an experience.

Neale saved one of his best stories for last. He said that on many occasions when he sees someone looking good or someone that just has a spark about them, he tells them so. One evening, he was riding in an elevator with a very beautiful woman, someone beautiful enough to be a model. He thought of saying to her, "I just wanted to let you know that you are lovely, your beauty makes the world a better place, I want to acknowledge this to you". He had second thoughts of doing so, however, figuring that she'd heard it a million times before, that she might even consider it a pickup line.

After a few more moments deliberation, he decided he was just going to tell her this and so he did. Her reaction was profound. She began crying and said that no one ever tells her that she's beautiful, she says men are afraid to come up to her because of her beauty, that they're intimidated by her. This story really shows how important it is to tell people how you really feel about them, not to assume anything, to appreciate others every chance you get.

As noon grew closer, my happiness was increasing. How lucky I had been to attend this retreat in Neale's backyard. I would miss the others who had shared their stories over the past 100 hours and hoped to connect with them again one day (I've since added many to my Facebook account). It ended shortly after 12, but I was in no hurry to exit the building.

I started talking to some of the other participants in a way that I'd not done previously. I took Neale's advice and told others how much I appreciated what they'd brought with the things they shared, that I wished them love and light for 2009.

It was around this time that I noticed a few people having their pic taken with Neale. Though I had one taken with Neale earlier that summer, it couldn't hurt to ask for another, could it? I asked Neale if it would be alright for my wife to take a pic of me and him. His son said that he could take a pic of the three of us. Bloody brilliant!

I then asked Neale if he planned to attend that summer's Celebrate Your Life in Chicago (this is where I first met him). He said he was and I thanked him for everything.

As we prepared to leave the Swan, I felt a strong desire to go up to some of those whose stories and experiences had touched me. The first was a man who'd recently been broken hearted. I told him I'd also been through tough times and that things would eventually get better. I was surprised when he embraced me. I went up to another man and told him that the yoga exercises he demonstrated were very helpful and something I'd look into in the future.

As we left, a man with a high-tech camera was encouraging people to state what they liked about the retreat, if it had changed their life or left them nonplussed. Since I'm not as good expressing how I feel when I'm more than two feet away from a keyboard, I abstained.

Once outside, we ran into a very joyful guy from the conference. I stated earlier that I laughed an awful lot over the past 5 days. This guy laughed about as much as I did. I shared this with him and he responded with a hearty guffaw. Before saying goodbye, we embraced.

We had some time before we needed to get to the Medford airport, so headed to the Creekside Bistro once again. I was surprised to see of two of our compatriots from New York there. We had shared pitas with them a few days before and had talked to each other a number of times after that. Before our pizza came and after we finished eating, we went up to the bar and talked with them. They were staying another night in Ashland before leaving town. We spoke of maybe seeing each other at a future retreat. Hugs were exchanged as we left to get our baggage; the pizza, again, was to die for.

By this time, the Swan was mostly barren. We went into the Columbia to retrieve our bags and wound up sitting in their lounge for about 90 minutes; better to chill there than at the airport. I wanted to walk the streets of Ashland one more time, so went outside while my wife sat. After walking a couple blocks, I noticed an older lady from the retreat. We talked for a time about her life back East and what we'd enjoyed most about our experience in Ashland. A group of 4 from the retreat passed and she commented that a number of couples had formed over the past 100 hours. I nodded my head. She said she wanted to say goodbye to my wife, so we strolled to the Columbia. More embraces were had as we parted.

Back upstairs, my wife was speaking to a couple other attendees, attendees who like us, had opted to stay at the very old-school hotel. They said they didn't mind going down the hall to take a shower. We talked a bit about what we did back home and before I knew it, the time had come to take a taxi to the airport. A young fellow from the retreat helped us with our bags before giving each of us a hug. This was quickly turning into a record-breaking day for embraces for yours truly.

The man who ferried us to the Medford airport was the same one who had driven us from there to Ashland five days prior. We told him a bit about the great time we had and that we looked forward to returning. The first thing I noticed upon arriving at the airport were five people from the retreat. I looked forward to talking with them, but not before checking our bags.

Once this was done, I sat among them, asking how they had gotten familiar with Neale's work, where they were from, and if they were able to use the Conversations teachings in a practical day-to-day way in their lives. One lady from Canada, a therapist, immediately answered my latter question when told by a ticket agent that her flight was running 90 minutes late. Her response was, "It is what it is". Later, she said that she used a spiritual bent when dealing with patients, something she felt was a good deal more effective than conventional therapy. We talked for quite some time as my wife watched "Ellen" on one of the airport's TV's; she was a bit tired by this time and wasn't as excited about talking to other Nealophyte's as I.

Before long, one of the couples had to leave and I hugged them both. The therapist and I continued our conversation walking a bit now. We noticed a lady who was a Jehovah's Witness sitting amidst some of their literature. I said, Wouldn't it be cool to tell this lady that there are much grander belief systems, ones in which you don't need to fear God, ones in which your salvation is assured, ones in which you can even celebrate birthdays and have blood transfusions. Neither of us was in the mood to burst her bubble, however, so continued on our way.

Shortly thereafter, we all headed for the gate where we would be boarding our plane. My wife wanted me to sit by her, but I just couldn't resist going back to the CWG'ers and discussing the eternal questions. A man from Canada mentioned that he doesn't buy everything that Neale says, that Home With God was the first he heard of living the same life over again. He also said that what Neale writes about is ultimately just theory as there's no way to really prove any of it. The therapist countered that Near-Death Experiences are a pretty good validation of much of what is said in Home With God. Not long after, much to my chagrin, it was time to board the plane that would take us to Seattle.

The flight from Medford to Seattle was to be a short one (just over an hour). We actually had to go outside to board as it was a smaller plane, one in which each row only had four seats, two on either side. The plane was only about half full, something that pleased me greatly. Three others from the retreat were on board, including two from Canada who sat together. I wished I was sitting close to them so that I might hear what they discussed during the flight. A few minutes after getting settled, the captain announced that we would be picking up some lost souls in Portland whose flight had been delayed. Not what I was in the mood for, but what can you do.

The plane was completely full as we left Portland and I listened to some music on my headphones. Something troubling happened as we began our descent into Seattle. A young female flight attendant was crying in the back. I thought I was just hearing something, but it was no joke. I wanted to go up to her, to see what was wrong, but we were required to have our seatbelts on as the lights of Seattle grew brighter. It was quite disconcerting to hear such sorrow and not be able to do anything about it.

Once we landed and people started getting off the plane, I wondered if I should say anything to her. I'm sure other people heard what I did and would be offering assistance. But thinking back to all I'd heard from Neale (especially in regards to his encounter with the model), I knew that I must say what I felt. As my wife started heading to the exit at the front of the plane, I asked the flight attendant if she was alright. Though a bit teary-eyed, she said she was. As I stepped outside, I noticed a couple police officers. I deduced that they were there to sort out what had occurred on the plane.

A few minutes later, I saw a couple police officers questioning a man who was apparently the reason for the kerfuffle. I found out later from the couple from Canada that when the attendant was collecting soda cans and such, this man didn't want to give her his garbage. He became belligerent and threw the can towards her, basically being an asshole. Of course, she may have over-reacted by balling her eyes out, but why anyone would treat someone like this (especially on the first day of a new year) was beyond me.

Regardless, I had compassion for both parties though certainly a good deal more for the young lady. It brought home to me again that love is the most important thing. You can read Neale's books, Deepak's works, the Bible if you're a glutton for punishment, but in the end, the thing that matters most in life is loving. When you leave your body, you'll be asked, "Did you love?" And not just your family, anyone can love their family (though it does sometimes get difficult at Thanksgiving).

Love everyone and everything in your life. I'm proud to say that the word "hate" is not in my vocabulary and though I don't love quite as much as I probably should, every day we are given an opportunity to choose again, to think a higher thought, to love as we never have before.

My Experience at Celebrate Your Life 2009