The year 1984 proved to be the most pivotal of my life. Everything changed for me that year, for better or worse. My mind was awash with ideas and entirely new ways of thinking about the universe and my place in it. That year I created the first draft of my own language and decided that a fantastic and potentially highly-lucrative project would be the creation of a massive astrological ephemeris in chart form. The works of Velikovsky, particularly Worlds in Collision, were at the top of my reading list (I read a lot back then), providing me with a clear, thoroughly-researched and expounded scientific explanation of events recorded in the Bible as divine miracles, as well as a reason to avoid the teachings of Jehovah's Witnesses that I knew would bury me in guilt and shame, as they stood in stark contrast to Velikovsky's theories.
All of this was complete and utter heresy!
The Bible specifically condemns astrology as demonic, and the idea that the Ten Plagues of Egypt that led to the Exodus were the result, not of Divine intervention, but of natural forces at play during a near-earth collision with a comet was anathema to Jehovah's Witnesses. So why, one might ask, would someone who'd been a spiritual and God-fearing boy from toddler-hood and who'd faced down religious intolerance on a deeply personal level at a very young age suddenly adopt a belief in the occult and unscriptural teachings that could not have been farther from "Bible truth" if the author had written with that intent in mind.
That's actually a very good question, one I've asked myself more times than I can count. The answer lies in the fact that I've always been very spiritually-minded, and the growing void deep inside me needed to be filled with something. I could not bear being reminded of the Bible's condemnation of my lifestyle, so I turned to the next best thing: the supernatural, or occult. That's where astrology came in. It helped satisfy, at least for a little while, the overwhelming belief that there is something or someone greater than ourselves from whom we all may utlimately benefit, something or someone in control of our—of my—destiny, as well as my need to "create" something with my own hands.
Besides, it wasn't like Velikovsky had simply pulled his theories out of his butt and had them printed. He spent nearly a decade researching material for Worlds in Collision and Ages in Chaos and the sheer volume of footnotes and references (well over 1,000 in Worlds in Collision alone) made it something I determined to take very seriously. Since most of his books were out of print, I searched local libraries until I'd gathered all of them and prepared to dive into his material with the same passion and gusty with which I'd previously studied the Bible.
Unfortunately, right about that same time—the summer of 1984—I made a rash of fiscally-unsound decisions that led to a complete change in circumstances, and not for the better. I had reached a very critical cross-roads in my life and I needed to go somewhere, anywhere but the east coast.
I decided to go west. I'd never seen California (or anything west of Oklahoma, even), so one day I threw everything I could fit into my car, a 1985 burgundy Chevy Malibu, locked the rest in my apartment, and hit the road, my sights firmly set on the Pacific Ocean. I
took with me all of the library copies of Velikovsky's works; I would need them to continue my search for the real
"truth." Ironically, I also took all of the Watchtower literature I'd kept...and about $300-worth of gay porn.
The contents of the trunk of my car were a clear reflection of the terribly-disarranged state of affairs that had become my life by the fall of 1984: heretical theories that eliminated God from the equation, Bibles and Bible-based literature, and boxes of pornography. At the very least, one could say I was more-than-a-little confused by that point. Who would I turn out to be? I had no idea, but I endeavored to cover all my bases, just in case.
I basically fled the east coast with the intent of changing my name and identity and starting over from scratch. Even though I've expressed that the first half of the 1980s was for me the best time of my life, in certain aspects it was a complete disaster. By the time I turned 21, my credit was so screwed up it was a miracle I still had a checking account. I had no real grasp on the notion of fiscal responsibility back then, and it cost me dearly.
So, in September of 1984 I hit the road, on what I considered to be the greatest adventure of my young life...one that would change the course of my life forever.
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