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Imagine your favorite athlete. Imagine your favorite Hollywood celebrity. Imagine your favorite writer. Imagine your favorite scientist. Imagine Einstein. Imagine your favorite rock band. Imagine your favorite Playboy centerfold. Imagine your all-around-kick-ass-techno-cyber-sage. Imagine the rabbit that took Alice for a joyride. Imagine your most beloved mentor. Imagine looking at the sunset. Put them all together and wrap them into a single individual. And imagine meeting that individual in person. That’s what I felt when I first shook hands with Ken Wilber— (see the rest of the kiss-ass accounts in Existential Memoir: BOULDERDASH)
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