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    Stepping Stones to God
    Stepping Stones to God
    Stepping Stones to God
    Ebook172 pages2 hours

    Stepping Stones to God

    By J.T. Evergreen

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    About this ebook

    Stepping Stones to God is a sequel to The Razor’s Edge by Somerset Maugham. After years of searching the world for Truth, Larry Darrell finds peace and understanding through instruction he receives at an ashram in the foothills of the Himalayas.
    His elusive goal of atonement with God prompts his guru to suggest he travel to the heights of the Himalayas, leaving worldly cares behind in order to establish himself in aloneness with his creator. With the success of this venture, his guru advises him to return to his own people and administer to their spiritual needs.
    This volume details the journey of Larry Darrell from the day he sets foot on the docks of New York City until his death in the mountains of California.
    Those of you who wish to follow along on this journey will find it goes beyond the humdrum chaos of everyday life to a place within where the reason for being may be realized. A place where, by ourselves and without ambassador, we may enter the chamber of the Divine, which sustains us in spite of ourselves, is ever-present, guiding, and comforting us in our spiritual unfoldment.
    The bastions of organized religion are attacked in a gentle way, bringing enlightenment to those who are ready for a journey independent of its dogma. A journey which ultimately leaves them in the world but no longer of it.
    And when it comes time to leave this vale of tears, the vision of the grim reaper is dispelled with the promise of stepping forth into the light of a higher understanding of our purpose for being.
    And once this book is laid aside, the principles within will linger, ready to burst forth at the required moment.
    In this age of mind-boggling technological advances, it is hoped that the simplicity of the principles contained herein will bring solace to those who require nothing more than a gentle touch of assurance that all is well in spite of the turmoilin the world about us.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJ.T. Evergreen
    Release dateFeb 9, 2019
    ISBN9780463702185
    Stepping Stones to God
    Author

    J.T. Evergreen

    OCCUPATION - Retired from the grind. Reflecting on successes, failures, and regrets. Exploring new aspects of self, writing that book which will get me an Oscar, staying out of trouble - well, small amounts of trouble are ok. Bringing joy into people's lives with random acts of kindness - the ones who aren't expecting it are the best. Cheering up check-out clerks at WalMart.ABOUT ME - Alone in blessed singleness. Wicked sense of humor, enjoy my own company, glad I'm not young any longer. I do miss the intimacy of being in love. A good catch . . . at least I think so. Enjoy the possibilities of every moment, an imagination that won't quite, a master weaver - give away everything I make, excellent portrait painter, a national treasure - though no one agrees with me, a good listener, intuitive, a good conversationalist, avoid boredom and boring people at all costs - that's a career all by itself.INTERESTS - Intelligent conversation: hard to come by these days, metaphysics, mysticism, my pups - Charlie, Max, and Bailey, seeing the funny side of life, going to Macy's at Christmas time - kicking Santa and punching an Elf. If I had a singing voice, which I don't, I would sing all of the time, wherever I was - even in WalMart. Wouldn't that be enchanting? When I receive the Oscar for the book I'm writing, I will have some baritone sing On A Clear Day, and I will lip sync his voice. It will wow the audience.PUBLICATIONS – Short Stories to celebrate the NEW YEAR - 23 delightful short stories; Alone at the Beach 25 short stories to keep you company, Home Alone, 8 Great Stories to keep you company, Born in the Twilight, Injun Summer, This’nThat, Short Stories for a Summer’s Day. Holiday Short Stories, With All My Love, Father Frederick Monahan, Shangri la, Stepping Stones to God, I’m Gay Mother – Get Over it, The Olde Book Shoppe, Naked Before God, The Italian Call Boy, The Silence of Healing, Death of a Pope, The Best Short Stories Ever, and My Love Affair with Father Tomas McTavish, working on a new character, Father Gibbon with Sister Mary Magda in TheAdventure of Father Gibbon with Sister M. Magda - it's about murder. I get choked up when I re-read some of my sentimental stories. I’m told that’s a sign of being a good writer.LOVES - Color and lots of it, strawberry jam, hiking up Yosemite Falls, Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, sourdough bread, only made in San Francisco. Hearst Castle, Big Sur, sea air, Adams peanut butter, chocolate milk, rainy days, canaries singing, chocolate chip cookies my mother made, Greek yogurt with honey - oh, yum. Laughter. I make it a point of doing this many times a day.HATES - Stupidity, insensitivity, bad table manners - come on, how difficult is it to hold a fork properly - it's not a shovel for God's sake. Snow, ice, slush, freeway traffic, lima beans - what was God thinking, sleepless nights, people who are late, texting - it's a cop-out, tobacco, alcohol, red meat,FAVORITE BOOKS - The Spiritual Journey of Joel S. Goldsmith, How to Win Friends and Influence People - I collect this book and give them to people I hate - there's a waiting list.FAVORITE MUSIC – Let's Talk Dirty to the Animals – Gilda Radner - funny lady;; Joplin’s Peachrine, Ahmad Jamal - Country Tour - the absolute best jazz - never tire of it. Someone Waits for You – Carly Simons, Helen Kane singing Button Up Your Overcoat and I Want to Be Bad – I relate to the lyrics. And the Tenor who sang Springtime for Hitler in the Zero Mostel version of The Producers. No one seems to know who he is. What a voice.FAVORITE FILMS – The Celluloid Closet, Witness for the Prosecution, It Could Happen to You, Maltese Falcon, Inherit the Wind, 12 Angry Men, Harold and Maude, Murder on the Orient Express, Hope and Glory, Sorry Wrong Number, Speed, Practical Magic, Apollo 13, Where the Red Fern Grows, The original Producers - touch me, hold me - Estelle was terrific, and Zero - what can I say.FAVORITE TV SHOWS - I don't watch TV any more, but when I did . . . 2-1/2 men - when it was good. Everybody loves Raymond - some great writers; best sight gagsFAVORITE QUOTES – The poetry in writing is the illusion it creates: by me. Lord Chesterfield: “Sex: the pleasure is momentary, the position ridiculous, and the expense damnable.” The saddest words of tongue or pen are these - It might have been - indeed they are. If you want to make a success out of old age, you better start now: my mother when I was 15. On a clear day, you really can see forever - you just have to look. I may be rancid butter, but I'm on your side of the bread. Inherit the Wind.FAMILY – A father who was emotionally absent, a mother who provided all the necessities of life and nothing more. An older brother who is a classic socio-psychopath and made my childhood a misery. I hide from everything just to survive. My right of passage came when I was 18 and joined the Naval Air Reserves. In boot camp I hide in the back row the first day, and guess whose name they called to be the Company Commander – me. But it was the best thing that could have happened and I bless that moment. I had to lead those 50 plus men and boys for 90 days. The night of graduation we drilled in front of the audience and it was perfect. The guys carried me from the hangar in triumph. I came out of the shadows that summer and never went back. I'm a louse when it comes to cleaning house, too many other more enjoyable things to do.“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”Omar Khayyam

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      Book preview

      Stepping Stones to God - J.T. Evergreen

      Acknowledgements

      Many thanks to Khris Lawrentz for his tireless proofreading.

      Prologue

      This is a tale of a young man and his journey in search of inner peace, understanding, and enlightenment – a journey in search of the Absolute or, perhaps, salvation from the unknown.

      He will never be famous, and when his life, at last, comes to an end, he will leave no more trace of his sojourn than ripples on a quiet pond. And yet, his life may have a lingering influence over those touched by his presence, his grace, and especially his goodness. So, that long after his death, it will be realized there lived among us a very remarkable creature.

      His inner struggle began during WWII. It was the last day of the war, perhaps the very last moment when a friend gave his life so he, Larry Darrell, might live. This haunting memory prompted his decision to forsake the norm of the day and devote himself to finding answers to the elusive meaning of why he was permitted to live in the face of so much death.

      The consent of his fiancé, Jessica Christi, for a short-term separation, fueled his determination to begin his journey in Paris. A year later their engagement ended when Jessica realized Larry was lost to her.

      His encounter with the angst of a disillusioned, defrocked Catholic priest engendered his desire to seek answers further afield – in the East, in India. There he found inner peace among those who had come to realize the futility of the material world. Enlightenment, however, continued to elude him.

      After years of study, meditation, and prayer, his guru put forth the idea he should retreat to the mountains where he would be alone and free of worldly influences, suggesting that there he might encounter the final step to enlightenment.

      As the last vestiges of worldliness dropped away, enlightenment came quietly with the realization of his oneness with the Universe, with God. He experienced the Kingdom within so often spoken of – that land within consciousness not yet revealed by religion, philosophy, or science. The experience had a profound effect upon him, leaving him in the world but no longer of it.

      His access to this higher plane of consciousness endowed him with the understanding there was nothing to be healed. Armed with that realization, he possessed the greatest healing power the world had ever known.

      Freed from the doubts and uncertainties of the past, Larry set forth on a new journey – one of giving rather than of receiving.

      With his desire to return to the United States, he boarded the French tramp steamer, Jeanne Marie, where he worked his way across the Atlantic to the harbor of New York City.

      Coming Home

      Roiling black storm clouds, laced with unexpected cracks of heavenly thunder, rolled ominously overhead as Larry Darrell stepped confidently onto the dock in New York City harbor after an absence from the United States for more than a decade. He bade farewell to his shipmates, then paused a moment, gazing at the New York City skyline shimmering in flashes of dancing lightning. It was 1947, he smiled at the possibilities of his life now that he was home.

      He pulled his watch cap over his ears against the cold winds preceding the approaching rain. Taking a last look at the French tramp steamer, Jeanne Marie, he saluted her, tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked quickly toward the shore. Claps of thunder and flashes of lightning welcomed him home. He smiled to himself as he remembered what his mother told him as a child. Thunder and lightning were nothing more than the angels bowling in heaven. They were certainly having a good time this afternoon.

      Larry ducked into the Hound Dog Café as the rain began coming down in sheets of icy cold water. It was late fall – old man winter was sending a calling card.

      Whadalyahave, sailor? The smiling young waitress approached Larry as he sat down at the counter. Her tastefully displayed cleavage was accented by her name tag – Jesse.

      The name, Jesse, sparked memories of the love he had for Jessica Christi. The pain of letting her go was still with him. He wondered if it would ever end.

      Coffee and hot soup. Do you have any? Larry smiled at the attractive girl.

      We sure do. Country vegetable. I had some myself for lunch.

      How was it, Jesse? Larry smiled playfully.

      It was deee-lish. She poured a cup of hot coffee and moved it toward Larry.

      I’ll have some of that soup, please – to warm my bones. He smiled as he clasped the coffee cup in both hands, warming his cold fingers.

      I know whatcha mean. Won’t be long before the snow flies. Jesse glared at the pouring rain as she moved to the chef’s window.

      Larry sipped his steaming coffee and gazed at the gully washer. He was anxious to get to the YMCA for a night’s rest before he departed the clamor of the city.

      Jesse returned with his bowl of steaming hot soup. So, where y’all headed?

      West, to a warmer climate. He smiled. From the sound of your accent, I’d say you’re from the Deep South.

      You got that right, mister. Alabama’s my home. I’m sorry I ever left. Memories of the past clouded her pretty face.

      Why don’t you go back? Probably a lot warmer.

      There’s a guy back home I never want to see again.

      Why not?

      He was married, which didn’t bother him, but it sure bothered me when I found out.

      And you no longer feel kindly toward him. Is that it?

      I still love the sonofabitch, but hate him for what he did to me.

      Those are pretty strong, conflicting emotions, Jesse. Not so pleasant for you I would imagine.

      I know, but I can’t help myself.

      Did he love you?

      I thought he did.

      You’re not sure.

      No, I’m not.

      Have you tried forgiving him for what he did to you?

      Are you kidding?

      No, I’m not kidding. Larry saw her pained expression. Hate can tie you to a person just as love can, and probably more so. You should consider it, and also consider forgiving yourself.

      Myself? She was surprised at the idea.

      Yes, yourself. I’m only guessing, but I’m pretty sure you’re angry for permitting yourself to be deceived.

      Jesse paused as she thought about what Larry had just told her.

      Well, consider it when the time is right. You might surprise yourself. And you’ll feel a lot better. Hate is a fleeting emotion; it will die by itself if not fed. But, if you really love him, you’ll never be able to stop. Don’t even try. I apologize for the intrusion.

      ’Sokay. You win a few. You lose a few – right?

      Yes, you’re right. Larry felt a twinge as he thought of his love for Jessica and how their lives had grown apart.

      He finished his soup, left a tip and caught Jesse’s eye as he prepared to leave. He threw a smile and a friendly salute across the room, then moved to the front door of the Hound Dog Café.

      Jesse ran to the front door and breathlessly confessed, You were right, mister. I will try and forgive him, and myself. I promise.

      Jesse, you’ve made me very happy. I know you’ll be ok. Life will be sweet again, I promise. Larry leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

      Thank you. Hey, what’s your name?

      Larry, Larry Darrell. Goodbye, Jesse of Alabama. He smiled and opened the front door.

      She half whispered, Goodbye … Larry, and sighed as she watched the sailor shoulder his duffle bag. He waved farewell, then disappeared down the walkway. The rain had turned to drizzle. She hoped he would stay dry and warm on his way west. She hardly knew him, but she already missed him.

      She went behind the counter and thought about the boy she loved and hated. Deep in her heart, she knew she would forgive him if he were to walk into the café and ask for her forgiveness. The stranger was right, she would always love him.

      Larry entered the Grand Central Terminal on 42nd Street and approached the ticket counter.

      Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you? The eager young ticket agent smiled at Larry.

      Hi. I’m bound for California. What’s the fastest way to get there?

      The 20th Century Limited will carry you from here to Chicago in sixteen hours. You can switch to the California Limited which will take sixty-three hours to carry you to Los Angeles. Fast enough?

      Yes, indeed. When does the next 20th Century leave?

      Departure is at 4:45 p.m., half an hour from now. And, there is space available. It’s all Pullman, no coach. The young agent smiled at the efficiency of his announcement.

      That’s perfect, how much do I owe you? He forgot about staying at the YMCA. He had slept in many places over the years but never on a train. He looked forward to the experience. Leaving the big city for the wide open spaces was preferable.

      You know, you could fly to the coast. That would be the fastest.

      No, I’m not in that much of a hurry. I want to take in the countryside as I go.

      That’ll be $61.30, please. The train departs on Track 34. Just follow the signs.

      Just follow the signs, the young man had said. That’s what Larry had been doing these many years since leaving the States, following the inner signs that led him through the labyrinth of worldly experiences in Europe to the spiritual mountaintop experience in the Himalayas where his search ended and his real life began.

      He smiled at everyone he passed as he made his way to Track 34. Some returned his smile, others did not – they looked away. He felt sadness for those who turned away. He was glad to be leaving the big city.

      The coach gave a slight jerk as the train began to move away from Grand Central Station. He was on his way again. Pounding rain beat against the coach window as the train left the station. Thunder and lightning were more distant now. The storm was moving away. The wheels of the coach squealed on the tracks that curved onto the straight away, out of the city toward the open plains.

      His rough seafaring appearance raised eyebrows at first, but the children traveling with their parents gravitated to him immediately. The laughter generated by the tales Larry told of his travels in Europe, India, and on the high seas soon had parents gathering around, joining their children in the fun of the stories Larry enjoyed telling.

      As twilight gave way to the darkness of night, Pullman Porters began converting seats into upper and lower berths. Larry occupied the upper berth while two small boys, of parents across the aisle, occupied the lower berth. The rhythmic clickety-clack of the coach wheels racing along the rails soon put everyone into a peaceful slumber. Larry reveled in the experience. He thought of the Himalayas as he drifted off to sleep.

      Hello? came a whisper from someone on the other side of his curtain. Larry parted the curtain and came face to face with a lovely elderly woman.

      Hi, who are you? Larry whispered as he turned on the overhead light. Her head was wrapped in a beautiful scarf. The fear on her face told him she was in need."

      My name is Hilda.

      I’m pleased to meet you, Hilda. How can I help?

      I saw you with the children. You radiated so much peace and happiness … I was wondering … would you do me a favor? She looked down.

      I’d be happy to. Tell me about the favor. Larry suspected what she was about to ask.

      She looked up into Larry’s eyes. Would you pray for me? Tears welled in her eyes.

      Of course I will. I’m glad you asked. Now, you get yourself into bed, and I’ll see you in the morning. He broke into a grin.

      Yes, in the morning. I’d like that, and thank you so much. She turned to leave.

      See you then, Larry whispered.

      Hilda stopped and glanced back. Thank you. Good night and God bless you.

      Night, Hilda. Sweet dreams. Larry closed his curtain, turned off the overhead light and laid back. He smiled and whispered to himself, God has already blessed me, Hilda, and you as well. The experience in the Himalayas rushed back and overwhelmed him as he fell asleep. He knew instinctively there was only perfection in the inner plane. Hilda had nothing to worry about.

      Larry woke to

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