They make dorm rooms smaller than a closet, so there isn’t much you can fit into. I didn’t carry much with me, because I wasn’t sure what I should take with me. I was a blank slate. Sure, there were ideas that my bible teacher said—about the world, and the different philosophies with catastrophic consequences. He gave me 99 percent out of 100 because only God was perfect, and he told me what was right, and how all the other philosophies were wrong. I knew he didn’t know what he was talking about. He had all the facts, but the world wasn’t working the way he thought it should. A man dabbles in magic, but isn’t a magician. You can know everything, and be dead, like the books. -Intellectual Shaman

My last roommate was unremarkable. The biggest question he had was what major to switch to— mathematics or engineering?

“What do you like to do?” I asked.

“It’s not what I like; I like math, but engineering pays.”

“Follow the money, as your first compromise, and it won’t be your last.”

“But what if I can’t find a job?”

“The world needs clerks.”

“Then why am I going to college?”

“That’s a better question.”

And the last I heard of him; he got an internship with an aerospace company. Maybe, I should be a psychic, because I can predict just about everything that happens, it seems.

My next roommate was neurotic. He tore his fingernails and complained about women. He didn’t understand how to crack the code, the matrix that was the opposite sex. Imaginary females dominated his mind.

“I’m not tall enough.”

“You’re almost 6 feet.”

“But I need to be taller.”

“A clown on stilts, is a clown on stilts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you’re tall enough; now go make the girls laugh.”

“I already do that; they’re laughing at me.”

“Just give them some time, at least ten years, and they’ll be ready to settle.”

“But I don’t want them to settle; I want them to desire me.”

“That’s another matter, entirely.”

“Well, what do I do?”

“You need to not care about women. Go become something, and do it for yourself.”

He did. I was surprised. He founded a startup and had success, even though he wasn’t that smart. I was in my senior year and decided to stay at the University for Grad school. Philosophy has no future, so I thought it was perfect for me. I drank espresso all day, waiting for my new roommate. And when I finally saw him, I realized I wasn’t psychic. He was from India—that was apparent. He was wearing orange religious robes and jeans, with a beard still in its infancy.

He smiled at me, and it was the smile of God.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Clayton; what’s yours?”

“Osho. There’s not much here.”

“I didn’t know what to bring, when I first arrived.”

“Most people who don’t know, bring everything.”

There was an energetic light radiating off his skin, like he was a little sun, walking around. Usually, I can tell how good a guy is with the ladies upon first meeting him. It’s important to know, in case you want to go out, and you need a wingman. Osho was an unknown quantity; he could be negative numbers or infinity, and I had the feeling, my understanding of math was about to change.

“What religion are you?” I asked.

“I am my own religion. There is no dogma. All beliefs are in reaction to all other beliefs. Unbelief is in reaction to belief. It is nonsense, but if you want to know my religion, we should go out.”

He reminded me of a Guru, but he was just starting out. He had confidence that can’t be learned. When we walked down the sidewalk to his black Mercedes, people looked at him. Looked, isn’t the right word, Gawked.

“Osho, how did you become you?” I asked.

“We are all becoming… It’s best to let it happen.”

When we got to the dance hall, the affect he had on the women was like a single fragrant flower in a 500-acre field that 100 bees tried to pollinate. They all wanted to dance with him under the disco lights, and Osho was completely lost in the dance— his arms extended, like the music held him with its rhythm and beat.

“Who’s your friend?” A blonde asked.

“I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.”

To be continued…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s