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Among
the
many
jobs
that
Richard
from
Texas
has
held
in
his
life
-
and
I
know
I
’
m
leaving
a
lot
of
them
out
-
are
oil
-
field
worker
;
eighteen
-
wheeler
truck
driver
;
the
first
authorized
dealer
of
Birkenstocks
in
the
Dakotas
;
sack
-
shaker
in
a
midwestern
landfill
(
I
’
m
sorry
,
but
I
really
don
’
t
have
time
to
explain
what
a
"
sack
-
shaker
"
is
)
;
highway
construction
worker
;
used
-
car
salesman
;
soldier
in
Vietnam
;
"
commodities
broker
"
(
that
commodity
generally
being
Mexican
narcotics
)
;
junkie
and
alcoholic
(
if
you
can
call
this
a
profession
)
;
then
reformed
junkie
and
alcoholic
(
a
much
more
respectable
profession
)
;
hippie
farmer
on
a
commune
;
radio
voice
-
over
announcer
;
and
,
finally
,
successful
dealer
in
high
-
end
medical
equipment
(
until
his
marriage
fell
apart
and
he
gave
the
whole
business
to
his
ex
and
got
left
"
scratchin
’
my
broke
white
ass
again
"
)
.
Now
he
renovates
old
houses
in
Austin
.
"
Never
did
have
much
of
a
career
path
,
"
he
says
.
"
Never
could
do
anything
but
the
hustle
.
"
Richard
from
Texas
is
not
a
guy
who
worries
about
a
lot
of
stuff
.
I
wouldn
’
t
call
him
a
neurotic
person
,
no
sir
.
But
I
am
a
bit
neurotic
,
and
that
’
s
why
I
’
ve
come
to
adore
him
.
Richard
’
s
presence
at
this
Ashram
becomes
my
great
and
amusing
sense
of
security
.
His
giant
ambling
confidence
hushes
down
all
my
inherent
nervousness
and
reminds
me
that
everything
really
is
going
to
be
OK
.
(
And
if
not
OK
,
then
at
least
comic
.
)
Remember
the
cartoon
rooster
Foghorn
Leghorn
?
Well
,
Richard
is
kind
of
like
that
,
and
I
become
his
chatty
little
sidekick
,
the
Chickenhawk
.
In
Richard
’
s
own
words
:
"
Me
and
Groceries
,
we
steady
be
laughin
’
the
whole
damn
time
.
"
Groceries
.
That
’
s
the
nickname
Richard
has
given
me
.
He
bestowed
it
upon
me
the
first
night
we
met
,
when
he
noticed
how
much
I
could
eat
.
I
tried
to
defend
myself
(
"
I
was
purposefully
eating
with
discipline
and
intention
!
"
)
but
the
name
stuck
.
Maybe
Richard
from
Texas
doesn
’
t
seem
like
a
typical
Yogi
.
Though
my
time
in
India
has
cautioned
me
against
deciding
what
a
typical
Yogi
is
.
(
Don
’
t
get
me
started
on
the
dairy
farmer
from
rural
Ireland
I
met
here
the
other
day
,
or
the
former
nun
from
South
Africa
.
)
Richard
came
to
this
Yoga
through
an
ex
-
girlfriend
,
who
drove
him
up
from
Texas
to
the
Ashram
in
New
York
to
hear
the
Guru
speak
.
Richard
says
,
"
I
thought
the
Ashram
was
the
weirdest
thing
I
ever
saw
,
and
I
was
wondering
where
the
room
was
where
you
have
to
give
’
em
all
your
money
and
turn
over
the
deed
to
your
house
and
car
,
but
that
never
did
happen
…
"
After
that
experience
,
which
was
about
ten
years
ago
,
Richard
found
himself
praying
all
the
time
.
His
prayer
was
always
the
same
.
He
kept
begging
God
,
"
Please
,
please
,
please
open
my
heart
.
"
That
was
all
he
wanted
-
an
open
heart
.
And
he
would
always
finish
the
prayer
for
an
open
heart
by
asking
God
,
"
And
please
send
me
a
sign
when
the
event
has
occurred
.
"
Now
he
says
,
recollecting
that
time
,
"
Be
careful
what
you
pray
for
,
Groceries
,
cuz
you
just
might
get
it
.
"
After
a
few
months
of
praying
constantly
for
an
open
heart
,
what
do
you
think
Richard
got
?
That
’
s
right
-
emergency
open
-
heart
surgery
.
His
chest
was
literally
cracked
open
,
his
ribs
cleaved
away
from
each
other
to
allow
some
daylight
to
finally
reach
into
his
heart
,
as
though
God
were
saying
,
"
How
’
s
that
for
a
sign
?
"
So
now
Richard
is
always
cautious
with
his
prayers
,
he
tells
me
.
"
Whenever
I
pray
for
anything
these
days
,
I
always
wrap
it
up
by
saying
,
’
Oh
,
and
God
?
Please
be
gentle
with
me
,
OK
?
’
"
"
What
should
I
do
about
my
meditation
practice
?
"
I
ask
Richard
one
day
,
as
he
’
s
watching
me
scrub
the
temple
floors
.
(
He
’
s
lucky
-
he
works
in
the
kitchen
,
doesn
’
t
even
have
to
show
up
there
until
an
hour
before
dinner
.
But
he
likes
watching
me
scrub
the
temple
floors
.
He
thinks
it
’
s
funny
.
)
