Ep. #4 Synchronistic Altruism: Homeless and on the run: Meeting Norbert in Amsterdam.

If eighteen years of brainwashing at the hands of nuns and priests in Catholic school taught me anything, it was to be charitable, help those in need and the Golden Rule: Treat others how you would like to be treated. These are basic tenants of humanity, we all can agree. But how many of us actually carry them out; how many of us demonstratively match our actions to our words? Forty-five years into this ‘simulated life’ and I am still learning every minute, day – lifetimes.

Growing up it was instilled in me that as helpful as it was to give a man a fish it was far more valuable if you taught him how to fish for himself. A soft-spot for those less advantaged in life, it was innate. Something I never had to specifically learn or be told; it felt natural to me to look after them, almost instinctive. It was as if I was preparing one day to be on that side of the table without knowing how, when, or if. We now have that answer – complimentary wheels included.

It is late 2010s, I am spending my summers living in Europe as a writer. And another three to four months a year traveling the world in my wheelchair, blogging for those whom travel is a challenge. Later I would have an apartment in Amsterdam, Holland, but for much of my time there it is spent in an upper-scale hostel. Hostels are the absolute best for meeting all different type people the world over. Amsterdam: surely a city not lacking in off-the-wall personalities.

This one particular summer I decided to divide my time in Amsterdam into two separate six- week trips. The first would be a bit earlier, in spring, the latter later, into fall. I had never been there for King’s Day, which meant I would be in the city for a time and an event new to me. I had heard it was a wild party but nothing could have prepared me for the mayhem. During the debauchery, shockingly I witnessed a man in the nascent stages of a psychological melt-down.

Later that afternoon in the café, when approached to check his mental state, as he was heavily dosed up on multiple drugs, resulting in adverse ‘Sponge-Bob Square Pants’ type stares, in need of adult supervision, he finally allowed me to talk with him. He would affectionately come to be known as Davo AKA “Crazy Dave.” Davo was a straggly, dreadlock haired down-under wild man, hell-bent on pissing away his newly acquired Australian lawsuit money that summer in Europe.

Each night, at the hostel bar, a gaggle of us would gather to imbibe and indulge decadence. Basically, we were motley group of new friends, from all over the planet, amalgamating as one. Like moths drawn to the magic of ‘the trail’ – sharing understanding and bonding through rich inter-cultural conversation. One night a new guy appeared in the picture – or rather, on the couch. Who was this cat? He looked disheveled – oddly a wee bit dodgy. Something was amiss.

Days passed and he was still there. On the third day, I noticed different people in our crowd ordering food, and when it arrived they would say they were not hungry, pushing the food toward the yet unknown scraggly person, now a part of our ensemble. Later that day I found out that he was from Poland, homeless with nowhere to go each night, other than the streets. Wow, really?! My heart immediately went out to him. But my mind had so many questions.

The next day in the auditorium, a public room with lots of couches and chairs for us to loiter, our group clustered. We would do the same outside the hostel almost every night, on Oostpark. Some days we were there from 11:00 to 03:00 the next morning. Everyone boogied off, doing their thing, leaving only him and I alone. “Hello, what is your name?” “I am Norbert,” he said. He went on to tell me, “I am homeless,” and “I currently live in the park, hidden in the brush.”

Immediately my eyes welled up. I was unsure what I had just heard. He went on to tell me, “Everyone I know steals from me. No one is honest; they all lie to me; take advantage of me.” He continued, “I have no real true friends in life – I am alone on the streets. Currently I live in a park, under a tree, on the dirt.” He explained, “I was squatting on a boat but one morning the owner came home and I had to run, leaving all my belongings there, including my cell phone.”

Before continuing on with the story, let me interject some perspective. I am a spiritual person who has walked through hell to be me. Reading has been an essential tool on my journey. It was also a key part of my recovery and ultimately, healing. It was the foundation needed for writing my first book: Unbreakable Mind. Although I espouse ‘Doing The Dirty Dishes’ of life, sometimes a person just needs a hand extended with love to get them get back up to the sink.

Being a prolific reader (3-5 books a week), and especially since spending my summers living in Amsterdam, I packed a small library to read. One book that I was most enchanted: Altruism, by a favorite author of mine, Matthieu Ricard. A 700 + page yellow behemoth of lessons awaited me. As with all books, there are no mistakes – they come to you at the time meant. And, true of all lessons in life, one must first be receptive to change before any enlightenment is possible.

This book changed me; it affected me in profound ways. The book spoke to my soul, extending deep into my core being – Holy Spirit. I thought I understood altruism but I was tremendously mistaken. It is so much more than simply lending a hand or helping someone. Often it is argued how possible is it to be ‘purely altruistic’ but this book makes the case. It explains the high level of compassion, care and concern needed for the well-being of another to help them in their life.

“You must be the change you want to see in the world.” – Mahatma Gandhi

Well, it was time to put the metal to the grind. What better time to hone an indispensable life lesson? Or simply put, welcome the universe at play with synchronicity. We were both meant to meet one another and speak alone that day. I decided that I was going to step up and show him what it meant to have a good friend, someone who is genuinely concerned with your inner-prosperity, not just today but also the future – someone who wants better for your life, always.

While he was visiting the bathroom I took the opportunity to fold up Euros, placing them under his beer. Being a poor writer did not pay my bills but being a trader did, providing me enough to share. When he returned for a sip of beer he saw it and said, “What is this…Why?” It was hard to play dumb as no one was there to scapegoat action I would have preferred unseen. Aware he was Polish, I asked, “Are you Catholic?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “Merry Christmas, early.”

That afternoon he went on to tell me a story of extreme heartbreak. At this time he was ‘on the lam’ from the law in Poland – other friends were not so lucky. Some unfortunate things outside his immediate control happened. He and some friends were working for a wealthy businessman and were not paid. So they robbed his property in order to eat. They worked for two months and were left to starve. All this meant he had no papers, thus living in Holland illegally – a ghost.

“Show me a man without a skeleton in his closet and I will show you a man without virtue. “ – Abraham Lincoln

None of that mattered to me. And at this point helping him with lawyers and legal fees was the least of his worries. He was homeless, living on the streets of a major European city. His biggest daily concerns were primal: food, water, shelter – basic survival. He was living like an animal in the bushes of many a popular park in central Amsterdam, including Vondelpark. Whilst tourists passed by, ignorantly bliss to his dire plight, someone’s son, brother, uncle – was living a hell.

As we sat in the auditorium one chilly spring afternoon on the couch together, drinking beers and eating fries (top 3 in Amsterdam), talking and smiling, he was completely baffled – he wanted to know why I was assisting him in life, why did I chose him? Who was I? He only knew me as the quiet general who liked to eat and drink, puff and chat, meet new interesting people, listen to music and wonder beneath the stars with anyone crazy enough to join the cacophony.

Norbert, “You deserve to have a good friend in life; you merit to be treated with dignity and respect. You are worthy of love and having someone in life that values you and treats you as a real friend – and now you do not have that. You are lacking the primary essentials in life, needs all humans require and warrant. I will be that friend, I will show you that there are good people in the world still, who love others unconditionally and wish happiness for you.” He cried softly.

The thought that someone I had just crossed paths with synchronously needed to be reminded he was human, entitled to respect, kindness, goodness, love, courage, dignity, worthiness, joy, hope and dreams – like every other human on this planet, hit me like a ton of bricks. Searching for an opportunity to marry my actions to my words, the universe provided me an alter: a triple cross, draped in neon. Our lives would be forever altered in time. So many others’ lives too!

Friends suddenly all poured back in, the party was back in full swing. Not ten minutes passed since everyone had gone off for a smoke or to the café to fetch some more beers and two lives, now inextricably intertwined, had universally changed in tremendous ways, setting off ripples of love and goodness, ad infinitum. My heart felt like it never did before; it was electrified. The light that was lit inside of Norbert was clear – he now had a friend for life. His grin said it all.

The next morning I was awakened by a knock at my door at 08:30. Aware the cleaning service was not due in that morning – I was puzzled as to who could be at my door so early. It was Norbert, with a big smile. Over time his constant thirst for living life and daily dose of positivism secretly lifted me up on my most difficult days. He stood there, two large white plastic bags in tow. They were filled with food and shower items – gifts of love. What had just happened? I was stunned.

This slim-shady looking Pole, coming from spending the night sleeping in the local park located adjacent the hostel, without the most basic necessities of life, could only think of me, of how he could make me content. Wow! Are you kidding me? The night before I gave him my room key so he could go have a hot shower. He took note of the fruits and snacks I had on my desk and decided to surprise me with my favorites. The fruit was [always] fresh from the Turkish stand.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears. — Proverb attributed to Buddha

On my return trip that summer, upon arriving at the hostel, Norbert was waiting outside for me. He always had a welcome satchel of treats and bathroom items when I arrived; and travel to-go bag when I departed. From that day forward, to the end of my stay in September, never once did he leave my side. Amsterdam is a big city with dangers, aside from all the drugged up tourists ‘running amok’ in Centrum, home to the Red Light District, where safety is prudent.

A person whose life has been dealt a bad hand but approaches every morning with a glimmer of hope, always overly optimistic the sun will shine tomorrow. He almost has a touch of innocent naïveté. He now had a safe place to keep his bag of life’s belongings, to eat whenever needed, or have a shower and rest. Without ID he could not stay at the hostel; papers are required for proper ID. Often I would give him a pillow and linens to bring to the park to sleep for the night.

Every morning he was at my door – even one day after being stabbed in Oostpark on his way to see me. The greatest helper an injured person could wish, forever a step ahead of me. Always he handled the wheelchair for all Uber rides – endlessly my guardian, always ensuring my safety everywhere we went. He constantly checked locations we patronized for accessibility. He never knew how much that meant. His love and care meant the world to me. I am forever grateful.

We went everywhere together, most times surrounded by other friends from the hostel. Over the next two summers we shared countless memories. We visited museums, exhibitions, the zoo, the beach, went to lunch at fancy places and spent much time in the sun at local cafes, enveloped in conversation. He told me how special all those trips were to him – how they made him feel like a little boy again. He had a hard upbringing in rural Poland where money was tight.

If ever I wished [secretly] to have a little brother in life – I had found him.

Many nights at the start of the relationship he wanted to know why I was so generous to him. Explaining the 700 page opus on Altruism was out of the question. But a story from a past life was not. I told him that most likely in the 1500s, in Europe, I was a poor peasant in trouble, in dreadful need, and he was a rich businessman who took pity on me and my family. This was the universe’s karmic balance. In fact, truth told: he was my helper, an angel – my life teacher.

Not my circus, not my monkeys. – Polish Proverb

But, oh, yes, it is our circus, and they are our monkeys.

The measure of any civilized society is how it treats those who are in need. The measure of an individual is how he/she, through daily virtue and practice, treats those same in need. By which he transcends all differences, helping relieving suffering of others, giving fellow humans hope for days of happiness ahead, assisting others without question or prejudice, eliminating despair and instilling hope, truly caring and concerning for the welfare of others. That is just a start!

Life’s worth and happiness do not come from how many toys or titles you can collect but the good you do in life. We all originate from the same wellspring of humanity. It goes beyond the ethos of a society, squarely at the base of your core values as a person, as a human. Anyone can help another person – Altruism is about transforming their whole life into one that guarantees them the same universal dignity and respect afforded all humanity. It is about service to others.

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” The question I have for you at this point of our journey together is, “What is your genius?” – Albert Einstein

There is no limit to what ‘true altruism’ can accomplish. In the end, we are here on this planet to contribute to the betterment of humanity: it is our sacred duty, to the extent our best inner strengths are utilized for the sake of all people. When we die no one remembers our 3000sq meter home but they certainly remember those whom we helped from disparagement, those we supported their greatest inner qualities so as to awaken happiness. That is one’s true legacy.

Everyone within them possesses immeasurable gifts of treasure and promise; it is up to us to tap into that creative light, encouraging others to be their best self – to shine their brightest.

Life is a dance best done together. Thank you for being my partner – your love, Norbert.

Three years on, life is vastly different for Norbert. No longer are the park, jail or prison nightly sleeping options. He now has a full-time construction job, a Polish girlfriend and an apartment replete with friends, in a nice suburb of Amsterdam. He has made progress on the legal front, expecting to get his “papers” within months. He now has dignity, hope, confidence, joy and happiness in his life again. He dreams of one day going to America. I’ll be waiting, arms open.

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Ep. #0 My Story: How I arrived at this juncture in life – via the Express Train.

It was an early morning “hot” arrival after a late night out partying with local friends in Bali, Indonesia. There was no time to sleep, only to eat, shower and then off to the next social fete. Living in a third world country on a Western salary has its benefits. It surely allows for the life of an international socialite but a bit skint on spiritual growth. Though, ironically, while living on one of the most voted spiritual places on earth each year. Visiting a destination island as a tourist and living on one as a local who lives and works there is much different. Although my time there was out of a movie, inside, far below, I was crying out for rescue, severely unaware.

An old friend from my days living in Tokyo, Alexi, a stunning Irish and Greek Manhattanite, had recently returned from studies in India, a newly anointed Vedic Astrologer, carrying with her some prudent warnings for me to heed while living in South Asia. We both had lived in Asia in the late 1990s. We met on an ANA plane ride from JFK, NYC to Narita, Japan. Prior to moving to Bali in 2000s she informed me my social and business lines intersected there; and while there, over the next two years, each reading proved true. Over the next few years Alexi would provide me multiple readings, some more prescient than others, but none more foretelling than one.

She gave abundant readings over the years, and the biggest themes always fructified. The time I was warned against partying while in Bali and almost ended up dead, the victim of inner-tribal warfare. Another period I was warned to avoid motorcycles and within days nearly lost my left leg when forced to dump my bike on the highway at 90kmh or face almost certain death by introduction to a dump truck. But one year came a reading that floored even the normally unflinching Upper East Side debutante. It said that I would be removed from my feet; the lesson so severe it could never be forgotten. This was a first for her – she was confused, as was I.

In the interim, amid receiving that fate-filled reading and my meeting the express train, I had begun a consumer finance company, a company that was very successful. After numerous years of partial successes and failed entrepreneurship in the world of business, limitless toil and perseverance, finally it all came together, resulting in my first seven digit in sales company. All that success would come crashing down soon after – a deluge of pain and destruction lie in wait – all the while, I was ignorantly bliss of what was in store. In the end, the company went to ruin through embezzlement, at the hands of a few friends. My investor then sued me for $1M USD.

Fast-forward three years and I am awakened to a priest at my side, while laying on a gurney in a dark, cold and sterile hallway. I think, “Oh shit, this cannot be good.” And, “You have done it this time, Steven.” “But in my own backyard nonetheless,” I thought. “Father, am I dead, am I in heaven?” I will never forget his response: “No, my son, you have been in a tragic accident.” It was at that moment I realized I could not move any parts of my body, only my eyes, and even that was a struggle. It was also at that time I realized that no amount of phone calls or well-oiled connections could help me out of this. A defining moment: It was up to one person only.

Just a few hours prior to meeting Father Irish, I lay for dead under an inner-city train. It is obvious at this point I was not literally run over by a train, though the driver will swear to you he ran over a boy prostrated across the tracks. If I were him I would have thought the same. Prior to making my way to train station I was beaten with a heavy metal object in a city alley. Shortly before that I was out at a trendy bar with three girlfriends to celebrate Christmas week. My back was broken in three regions – neck, middle and lower. The blow to my neck, at a forty-five degree angle, meant to kill me, exploded six vertebrae like popcorn. A bad night in Philly!

Not ten seconds of an itty-bitty pity party had passed and it was at that juncture, the moment when deciding whether to be a victim of circumstance or a survivor of life, when a small voice came to me – it came into my head, seemingly from nowhere, in an assuring voice – and said: “You have really done it this time, Steven. It is bad, very bad. But you will get through this. It will take many years of pain and hardship but in the end you will walk again and go on to help others in tremendous ways.” Immediately my attitude turned positive, deciding this would not define who I am, rather choosing accepting the lesson(s), starting down a long road to healing.

The priest wanted to talk about things that he prejudicially thought had lead me to that night. Immediately my focus turned to the solution, quickly dismissing his set-in-stone, antiquated black-and-white clergymen’s course. I was already a spiritual person and knew better to start looking for the silver lining, the hidden blessings. I knew it would take a real hero’s journey, an introspective voyage extending within to the unchartered abscesses of a person’s core being, to their soul, to find real answers. The areas we try so hard in life to avoid, the emotions that we try desperately to suppress by any means to ‘busy’ our lives and keep us from our eternal truth.

The universe had warned me to alter my ways. The messages are always sent to us, yet we do not always recognize them. There are no mistakes in life – none. To me, the accident was not about my lifestyle so much as it was about where I was really intended to be in life. To me it was not a punishment, it was an awaiting lesson. What would I do with this challenge? Would I rise to the occasion, enduring the karmic balance of life, seeking out answers to questions that I had so clearly avoided (consciously and unconsciously), finding new meaning and direction? Well, within me existed a great thirst, a fire in need of quenching – a journey would result.

Over the next eight years I embarked on an endless adventure in life – a journey to becoming a new man, one born anew with and through spiritual guidance and cosmic purpose where, after a long excruciating painful recovery, unbearable psychological torture, a total mental cleansing, financial devastation, loss of friends and family, and a emotional tsunami with ripples that seemed to undulate infinitely throughout my life – emerging entirely reborn. A being lost but now discovered who, after traveling profound into the scariest annals of the heart and soul, coming into view with resolute intent and meaning, found my purpose in life. But now what?

Discovering your purpose in life is only the first part of the equation – sharing it is part two.

Throughout my experience notwithstanding, I’ve drawn a clear distinction between recovering and healing: one is of the body and doctor, and the other, mind and soul, respectively. Along the road to recovery it cannot go without mention some of the spectacular people who assisted me to those ends: My surgeon, Dr. Jeffrey Rihn, Jefferson Health, a world-class doctor who was open to any and all modalities of healing; my physical therapist, Elizabeth Watson DPT, Magee Rehab, who’s fervent spirit and unending belief in me fueled my drive to continue on; and Dr. Neil Liebman, DC for Philadelphia 76ers, an energy healer like no other, whose “magic hands” and boundless love for his patients and their healing helped carry me through the second half.

It was only through limitless fortitude and perseverance by confronting utterly seeming insurmountable odds that produced the greatest revelation in my life: The obstacle is the way. Without mud there can be no lotus. No pressure; no diamond. Without venturing into the most frightening parts of our-selves can one ever attempt to understand their true inner-self. Life is all about contrast; one cannot know happiness until one knows sadness. We have the choice in life in every situation how we react – determined by our attitude. Adjust your attitude and determine your outcome. Lessons never go away – what we resist will persist. It’s up to you.

If not now, when? – Zen proverb

Fall down seven times, stand up eight. – Japanese proverb

One amazing facet of that cavernous inward journey, the one that lulled me into the woods of Tennessee where I planned to pass onto the spiritual world (crazy story) by hanging myself on a camping site steel water pole, when I was homeless, living in a tent and out of my car for one year; plumbing the darkest and most frightening depths of my being my inner-self, my soul, the Holy-Spirit, God; where there is no turning back; with no other choice but to “do your work,” to slay your dragons; choosing no longer to be a victim to your past; opting instead for the road less traveled; taking control of your energy, your life, your happiness – is the world it opened.

The outcome was an intense inner quest leading me down a path to healing, helping others with struggle in life. My ‘Doing The Dirty Dishes’ life philosophy provided ripe conditions for real learning, opening space for ample growth and change, leading to a place of teaching others, resulting in inspiring and motivating others through writing a book, Unbreakable Mind. Soon after, I started two blogs: one Spiritual and the other for those for whom Travel is a challenge. Both are read worldwide, resulting in invaluable feedback and immense satisfaction. While traveling in a wheelchair for two years for my travel blog, I took a hiatus from my spiritual blog.

After years of untold discussions and capricious agreements, I finally capitulated to my mentors and trusted advisors in life, deciding starting my own YouTube channel & Podcast. I determined that I would start writing my spiritual blog again, but this time I would then follow-up each blog entry with a podcast version. In each new episode an exciting topic is discussed within a spiritual context. A spiritual podcast that explores all topics under the sun, causing you to smile, think critically or ponder the soul and universe. This is my newest venture. Please consider listening and sharing my YouTube channel or Podcast with friends. Thank you for your support.

By now we all know what Alexi’s “knocked off your feet“reading truly meant. The accident was the greatest gift of my life. I am forever grateful to the universe and my lucky train. Choo-choo.

Teeth to the wind!

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Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout. Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

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Unbreakable Mind: One year anniversary – a letter of love and gratitude.

This weekend is the one year anniversary of publishing my first book, Unbreakable Mind. It was quite the experience getting to that point; it has been an amazing journey since. It has opened new doors never thought possible before, including being made into a movie in 2020. I am endlessly grateful to the process – the unfolding of the universe’s plan for us, no matter how different we think it will be. Mine just happened to include a ticket for the express train; and it was free ( 🤣 ) – though the true price was unimaginable, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Nonetheless, it has all brought me to this place, a place of healing and, as a result, helping others.

The book has assisted and touched thousands of lives, more than I ever could have dreamed or thought possible. Each month it continues to grow in new directions, amazing me at every turn. It can now be found in countless local, city, university and medical school libraries and bookstores. As well, one can find copies in a number of world-wide city and town libraries. Many teachers use the book for essay topics or various types instruction to their students as part of their lesson plan. It is also now under consideration at numerous well respected medical schools as required reading due to its unique perspective through the patient’s eyes. For all these reasons, I am filled with infinite gratitude and endless thanks.

There are no mistakes in life – events, places or people. Books come to us at the right time; we must be ready to receive the message. If you decided to read my book, thank you – I hope it resonated with your life and you found healing or meaning through it. Or perhaps just liked the story and found motivation and inspiration, as a result. If you know someone who has a struggle and could benefit from the book, please consider sharing the book or perhaps sending them a copy. I am eternally grateful for all those who have been a part of this journey, directly or indirectly. As this one year anniversary is upon me, I marvel at the possibilities the future holds. Thank you for being a part of the magik of the trail – the gratefulness in my heart is unbound, over-filled with love and gratitude. Love and light. S

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Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout. Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

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Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

Per, you touched my mind and heart, my left butt-cheek responded.

This is my first official blog post. It is a blog of love and gratitude: dedicated to Per Gjeding.

The idea of a blog has been presented to me many times over the years but was never a true fit. As with all things in life, the sands of time did their infinite magical dance and, as a result, I was again faced with Doing the Dirty Dishes in life. So, as I embark on this new chapter of my story, on the journey we call life, it is my hope you will find my musings informative, light, witty and funny, or any combination of the above. Please take a minute to read on and share with me my first official blog post sent into the universe.

As I sat in the shower today, as on most days, I let the hot water run over my head, trickling down all over my body, comforting my over-worked muscles and frazzled nerves, contemplating what could ever I write as a blog. There were so many ideas running through my head. They were endless; all over the map. Another part of me was unsure who would want to read it, but after a quick reality check of what my life has morphed into, and with the continued robust monthly sales of my first book, Unbreakable Mind, I finally capitulated to the universal forces to be and decided that I would post one blog entry per month. And so it goes.

As I continued on with my bath routine, a peculiar Wilander act of sudsy balance, something was amiss, suddenly change was upon me. This was not my first time down this road; big changes always portended future recovery. In massive amounts of pain in my groin, hip, pelvic cradle and glute muscles for weeks, nothing out of ordinary, I was in search of answers. I knew a newly introduced Physical Therapy system, PAS by Aktiv Form, created and developed, the result of twenty years of endless and selfless years of dedication to heal himself from tragic injury, by Per Gjeding, of Danmark, was affecting my nerves and muscles but had no real or clear idea where all that hard work would lead me. For the first time in my injured life I was able to lift my left butt-cheek and wash it without any bracing or other assistance. I was so ecstatic I wanted to get up and jump in the water. I knew what this meant: It translated into a major piece of recovery still required before I could walk again. I was over the moon with love for Per, and incredibly grateful to all others who helped prepare me to get to this point to be ready for PAS therapy.

Not long ago I was on a trip to Iceland. There I would be meeting an old friend, a friend whom is special to me, a friend I met while living in Tokyo over twenty years ago. She was originally from Nepal but was now a married nurse in Boston, with a lovely teenage daughter, Hazel. It was a ‘layover’ in Iceland, en route from Sweden to Philadelphia, a result of the infamous Iceland stopover in Reykjavik. Which, it should be noted, and perhaps will be elaborated on in a later post, is not really a stopover where technically you pay taxes to exit the airport, rather, it is actually two separate flights they string together and refer to as a stopover. If it truly were a stopover, the cost to stop in Iceland would be much less money out of pocket. With tourism on the decline, an over-priced and over-supplied housing market in full throttle, they might heed lessons from the past, and change their bait-and-switch ‘stopover’ international ad campaign. Otherwise the country is absolutely amazing. I plan to return this year.

After arriving at Reykjavik airport early, I stopped for a cup of tea and some last minute local Nordic sweets; a pre-flight relax routine I have developed over my years of extensive world travel. That and older age have me arriving for flights extra early these days. Actually, I find it more fun and it eliminates any undue stresses on my body. Nothing tenses an injured body more than rushing it – even though you are not pressured, your body will become so on its own. Normally I am first to board but the flight crew did not have the aisle wheelchair for the plane ready for me. Finally I settled on having a nice young strong Polish ground crewman carry me the ten feet onto the plan to my seat. Until he found out I was sitting in seat 1D he was not overly thrilled at the thought of my request. I have been a few places and knew better to get on the plane sooner than later. After a few minutes of settling in I looked to my right to introduce myself to my seatmate. “Hello, my name is Steven,” and he introduced himself in a heavy English accent as “Piere.”

Upon first hearing his accent, I thought I had a Frenchman sitting at my side. The stewardess came out with some champagne and fresh fruit. It must have been a long day for us both as the glasses never had a chance to touch the tray. A few minutes passed and I was curious where my new flight compatriot was from. As the stewardess poured us some red wine, people filing past, Piere and I were locked into deep conversation. Though I was still unsure what is his actual name was, and from where he hailed. At some point in his explanations to me, as I assume he is answering my questions, I hear him say “Slovakia.” Ahh, that is it! He is Slovak. Lucky me, I speak some. “Aka sa mas? Dobre?” I say to him. He looks at me as if I have three eyes. Fifteen minutes, and another round of Spanish red wine later, I conclude his name is actually Per and he is Danish, a true Scandinavian. I decide at this point to skip any attempt to utter any bit of my small Dansk repertoire.

As it turns out, in our mutual attempt to get over one another’s initial accents, he was telling me the story of how had been paralyzed in an accident as a young man, and taught himself, through sheer gritty determination and the endless quest to understand how his body heals, his own method of Physical Therapy. The name of the system he created is PAS by Aktiv Form. He then goes on to not only tell me of his recent groundbreaking speech at Oxford University, which, in case you are wondering, floored the audience, before handing me an actual copy of his presentation, with his whole 7 keys system of healing revealed to me. Well, talk about synchronicity of the universe; the unconditional unending love of God – I was speechless. For those who know me know that is no easy task to accomplish. Stewardess, two more wines, please. I was unsure what had just happened.

When we got back to Philadelphia airport, it turned out Per was staying at a hotel near to my home. He was in town visiting his son, Jack, whom I have rarely seen such love for a son by a father. Two hours of our flight were spent listening to stories of his awesome American university, Division II star basketball player son, along with plenty of photos, also including those of his family and home in Jutland, Danmark. We shared a taxi. I got out of the taxi at my residence and as I went to shut the door, Per asked me, “Steven, are you free in a few days for lunch?” “Sure, Per, that sounds spectacular. Let’s do lunch soon.” I said as I exited our Uber ride. Later that evening I tried reaching Per at his hotel and they had no record of him. The Whatsapp number he gave me was also unreachable. I was unsure what to think and soon got back to settling in my home after a one month mentally and physically exhaustive trip to Scandinavia.

Three days later, early in the morning, a text arrives from Malik, my local Pakistani Uber friend. He asks me if I am ready for lunch at 12 noon with Per. Oh shit, I guess he did not forget our unconfirmed appointment, even though we had not spoken a word since I left the taxi three nights prior. It turns out his wife forwarded him the email I sent to him through his Danish website the night we had met. As he enters my home, with a big smile: “Halo,my good friend,” jolly and joking as always. We have tea and chat. Then he asks me to lie down so he could do some tests. Observations completed, with a big smile on his face, he informs me my body is healing well and with further physical therapy regimen, his, I could complete all the circuits and start walking again. He then popped up, said he was off to see his son practice basketball, and asked if I would be free again in two days. Before I could holler out a loud yes, he was out the door. As he ran off, I quickly made it to the door to scream out the door, “yes Per, yes, let’s do it again in two days.” As he moved out of site, I could hear him say, wrapped in an impish child’s laughter, “see you in two days, Steven.” Two days later at high noon he was there.

What was transpiring in my life? What galactic forces had combined through serendipitous means in order to bring us two together, sitting next to one another on a trans-Atlantic plane ride, and later in my living room. It is my belief that forces beyond the comprehension of the human mind are responsible for bringing us together in Iceland. Nothing is random in life; everything happens for a reason. Including Per. But there I was, sitting quietly with information I knew could help me walk again. Over the next two months I would follow his system exactly as he instructed. After about thirty days, I began seeing the results of his ground breaking physical therapy system. It was tremendous, some might say miraculous. It is only a matter of time before I start walking with a walker.

Per, you touched my heart and mind, and my left butt-cheek responded. Never before in my wildest imagination would I have dreamed of meeting you, or the result of such aligned planetary forces that brought me together with you and your amazing PAS Physical Therapy system. There are no mistakes in life; there are no chance meetings. We met for a reason – which is now clear to me and hopefully soon to others in the universal shared conscious of our cosmos. Thank you for your love and support. Steven

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