The little autobiography I’ve been interjecting into the website has proven to be very difficult. I didn’t anticipate it revealing to me that I was so naïve and immature in my late twenties. I have to admit that it’s a little embarrassing; however, it has paid some wonderful dividends also. (In fairness to myself, I must divulge here That I grew up in a very abusive relationship with my father which severely damaged me and led me, in young adulthood, into twenty-five years of hardcore alcoholism. God and AA saved my life and to this day I work a powerful spiritual and AA program to keep me in sound physical, mental, and spiritual health.)

This recounting of what I did and what my motivations were certainly didn’t match the image of the man I hoped I was projecting back then. This whole effort of getting real in a vehicle like this is, even at my age, still deepening my understanding of faith in and forgiveness of myself through a vision of the potter and the potter’s wheel.

Of course, I am the lump of clay on the potter’s wheel. The creator, after producing a green, immature little pot observed the imperfections and mars in my clay and brought me back to the wheel to again knead, pull, stretch, push and reduce me again to a stronger creation; transforming my soul with powerful life experiences.

Even though I thought I had excelled in an activity of real men and could lay claim to being a real man, I was lacking in too many ways. I felt lost, turning and twisting under the holy pressure, sustained only by the spiritual gyroscope of my faith, which I recognized only as a survival instinct and not faith; just a force keeping me upright and moving forward. Thank goodness at the time I didn’t know how many times I’d be back on the wheel.