Prologue to Journal of Jon Lake
Born September 12, 1948
Died May 2, 1976
My name is Karl Johnson and I was the roommate and best friend of Jon Lake, who wrote the following journal.
People have questioned me about the strange behavior and subsequent death of Jon, but I've been afraid to be completely truthful in my answers. At first I didn't know what had happened. When I found out, I refused to believe it. Finally, however, I have accepted the truth, though I realize it will be rejected by many people- particularly the authorities.
The police, the university officials, and Jon's professors will, of course, laugh at his story. However, while today there may be few minds sufficiently evolved to accept the unusual concepts presented in this journal, I believe that it is only a matter of time before everyone will accept them.
Before you begin this journal, let me give you a brief description of Jon Lake as I knew him for over 20 years. We both grew up in the same small Midwestern town during the late 1940s and '50s. We met in first grade and became lifelong friends. This in spite of the fact that Jon, being the only son of our town's doctor, lived on the hill at the wealthy end of town and I, the son of a day laborer, lived on the other side of the track.
When we were seven years old Jon's mother died of leukemia. Two years later my father was severely burned getting Mom and me out of our house as it burned to the ground. Dr. Lake tried desperately that night to keep the forces of life alive in Dad's charred body. As the sun rose, weeping at his failure, Dr. Lake took Mom and me into his home where he treated me like his own son until his death, 10 years later. Jon and I grew up closer than any brothers I ever knew, for we never fought, and while I have been angry with many people, I have rarely ever been angry with Jon. He was the kindest and most patient man I ever knew.
Jon was a brilliant student, and I began just the opposite. For twelve years he tutored me, never once losing his patience with my truculence toward the ridiculous nature of most school subjects. He succeeded beyond anyone's wildest expectations, for I graduated in the top 5 percent of both high school and college. Jon, of course, graduated at the top of our class as well as being voted best athlete in both high school and college.
Jon was so good a quarterback that catching his well-thrown passes made me a college football star in spite of myself. Jon could have played professional football if it hadn't been for the Vietnam War. It seems that Jon's father had incurred the wrath of two members of the local draft board who revenged themselves by having Jon and me drafted two weeks after our college graduation.
In the army we stayed together all the way to the final patrol, where our platoon was blown to pieces and I found myself carrying Jon through what seemed like endless miles of jungle. Somehow we were found by medics and flown to a base hospital where Jon was parted from his right leg and I gave up the sight in my left eye.
While Jon was never bitter about the loss of his leg during that monumental madness called the Vietnam War, I was filled with rage. Jon said that he had learned a valuable lesson in that he could not bring himself to kill or even wound another person, even to save his own life. But I could have told him that without the Vietnam War.
Perhaps the single most difficult thing about Jon for me to understand was what I called his tender- heartedness. He couldn't bear to hurt anything. Yet while he would not intentionally step on a bug, or even uproot a plant, he didn't go around preaching his beliefs to others. He always said that each person can only learn when they are ready to learn, and that what is right for one person can be wrong for another.
Thus, Jon never allowed himself to become upset by the war, saying that it was a necessary experience for all involved in it. He called it karma. Try as I might, I could not get him to join me in protesting the war or even to argue with me about it. Jon seldom argued with anyone. He just agreed with them, saying that whatever they believed in was true for them.
In many ways Jon was a paradox to me. He was six feet three inches tall and weighed 180 pounds and could run faster than any other man in college. On the football field, however, he didn't like to block or tackle for fear of hurting someone. He would kill nothing, but he ate meat that had been killed by others. With his deep blue eyes, and strong, beautifully chiseled features he was very popular with the girls, which sometimes created problems.
During high school he got a girl pregnant. It was the only time I ever saw Dr. Lake furiously angry with Jon I can still remember Dr. Lake shouting angrily that no person had the right to bring a child into this world that he was not psychologically and financially able to care for.
In college Jon had majored in philosophy and minored in psychology and sociology. When we were medically discharged from the army, Jon persuaded me to return to the university to seek graduate degrees. We both majored in psychology and minored in sociology. Jon was fascinated by the social factors in the development of individual behavior and personality. His enthusiasm inspired me to a practical interest in learning how to influence social changes so that we would have no more tragic fiascos like Vietnam.
At the time Jon's journal begins, we had finished all our class work for the Ph.D. degree and were jointly working on a social-psychological dissertation concerning the development of values and self-esteem in children.
I could write much more about Jon, but this is his story, not mine. My purpose has been to provide a setting for this truly remarkable journal and a brief description of my friend, Jon Lake-a man you will never forget.
Since Jon was not writing this journal for publication, but mainly for self-study, portions of it would have been somewhat technical for the average reader. I have, therefore, deleted the most esoteric and complex passages. Some of these have been condensed and appear in the C.I. Data Excerpts section at the back of this book. Three people other than myself read the complete journal while Jon was still alive and able to explain and demonstrate some of its concepts. We were all so profoundly impressed that our lives have not been the same since. I would, therefore, recommend that the serious reader give some attention to those excerpts from Jon's conversations with C.I. and refer to them often during the reading of his journal.
Many of the things you will read in this journal will be difficult, if not impossible, to believe.
Jon however believed that, in time, the strange concepts presented here will be accepted by all.
CHAPTER 1: Lea
For months I awakened reluctantly each morning, mentally reaching back into my dream state for some indescribable adventure that lay, mistily, just beyond my reach. Last night my longing for its completion was realized. I awakened in another time-in another place in another body.
Lying in the middle of a small grassy clearing, I opened my eyes to a sky of soft azure blue. Trees towered in uncluttered profusion as far as I could see.
The musky scent of new-mown clover was brought to me on the cool morning air. The sound of birds calling to one another filled me with a sense of rightness and peace. My bare body tingled as its tiny hairs bent with the breeze. What beautiful freedom!
Arising, I breathed deeply, filling my whole being with the' beauty of my new surroundings. With a mounting sense of adventure I walked, jogged, then ran through this lovely wooded park. Running had always seemed to me the ultimate in physical freedom. Now I ran on and on with no sense of tiring, enjoying the soft earth under my flying bare feet.
Suddenly I was in a small clearing surrounding a natural fountain.
