When I was 19 years old, I left home, seeking happiness over education or money. I spent eight years living as a pilgrim, traveling north in the summer and south in the winter; all the while earning my way; making and selling silver jewelry.

I lived in a converted camper van. Equipped with a complete silversmith's workshop, a propane stove and a nice little sink. Plus, thanks to an on board inverter and a spare battery, electricity as well.

I'd roll into town with my gas tank on empty and only change in my pocket. Out of fuel and out of money, I'd stay put long enough to sell some jewelry, then once again be on my way. It was tough going at first, but eventually this lifestyle became quite routine.

When ever possible, I'd time these stop overs, to end up in a town with an ongoing craft scene: Indian jewelry in Tucson, Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco and Saturday Market in Eugene. These were some of my favorite places to run out of gas.

My parents thought I was poor, but compared to all the other street people, I was very well off. With mobility, a warm place to sleep, and a means of earning money — what more could anyone ask for.

Back in those days, I could park almost anywhere; close my curtains and no one would ever complain — or even notice. One of my fondest memories is sitting there, all warm and cozy, safe from the cold and rain outside. Sipping on a hot cup of instant coffee, reading one of my books and listening to the roar of the wind and pounding rain on the tin roof of my van.

The beauty of this setup was that I didn't have to pay rent. In those days, you weren't even required to have insurance. And since it didn't take much to keep the van going, I could devote the majority of my time to searching out new teachers and expanding my quest for spiritual knowledge.

In the 70's, this was actually an acceptable lifestyle. I used to jokingly call myself a professional hippie. Of course, traveling from one craft fair to another, I'd always be on the lookout for my next teacher — and another great lesson.

Back then, there were lots of communes and communities to visit. Most with well known and revered elders. There was even a directory that listed all these spiritual enclaves. I think it was called, A Pilgrims Guide to Planet Earth.

Not that all these communities were open to visitors. But having a vehicle and an income, I always found myself readily accepted. And being fairly well versed — spiritually — I was always able to reframe my viewpoint into the current vernacular. This usually got me a quick audience with the most important people. Many times, I was invited to stay on as a permanent resident — but I never did.

Then in Tucson, Arizona, I met an elderly woman named Saki. She wanted to charge me $20 a week for Qabalah Lessons. I told her I could not afford $20 a week. AND... a real teacher, would never ask for money. I'll never forget what she said. “If you take these lessons, you will end up selling MORE jewelry. More than enough to pay for the lessons. I promise you that.”

At the time, my sales were slow and I was struggling. So I decided to give her lessons a try. Not two weeks after starting my little apprenticeship, I met Simon. He provided me with materials — turquoise, silver wire and sheet — and promised to buy as many rings as I could produce. Suddenly I felt rich. I had no doubt that my good fortune was a direct result of Saki's lessons.

For about six months I peddled over to Saki's house twice a week. There in her sitting room, in the early morning hours, she'd present one Qabalah Lesson at a time. In all my life — no-one — not my parents nor any school teacher, had ever taken the time, to teach me how my thoughts and intentions determined my fate.

There's a lot I could say about Saki and her lessons, but let me share just one with you right now. A lesson that directly applies to the knowledge you will find in my book. In these posts, you'll hear me talk about how you will become aware of an unseen world. Right now, you may have no idea what I'm talking about, but neither did I when Saki first mentioned this to me.

When the time came for me to finally say goodbye to Saki, she told me, “Someday, you will not have to travel from place to place, looking for teachers. You will be able to look within, and find any teacher you need.”

At the time, this sounded mysterious and meaningless. Very much like a lot of her lessons. I was much more touched when she told me, “Now, there is nothing more I can teach you.”

Years later, it was her first statement that stuck with me. It must have been at least ten years later, when I finally realized that Saki's prediction had actually come true.

Now let me pass this promise on to you. If you take the time to study my posts — someday you too — will be able to look within and find all the answers you need.