<div class="floatright">(http://www.blogcdn.com/www.theboot.com/media/2011/07/chris-guitar-down456.jpg)</div><br/>Jim Eoff enjoyed the Pacific Northwest for the scant few days he had driven through it. It was homely and foreign at the same time. It was green like his native Dixie, but not the same green - it was darker, more primeval. It was like a cool November morning in the Smokies, but all the time. It was always foggy, always overcast, always rainy. The air was humid and inviting, but still tasted different. The humidity did make his joints ache, but he was here specifically to address that issue.<br/><br/>He had found lodging at a nice bed and breakfast off the highway. He had no real need to see the sights just yet; he sat on the front porch, sipping some hot tea and taking a chill pill, and watched the traffic go by. He kept an eye on the time, and when the time arrived, he stood up, took his cup in, and drove off in his aging but well-tended truck. The pill had made him a bit dazed, but, like many self-sufficient men, he felt he was good<em>enough</em>to drive. Whether this was true or that he was lucky, he arrived where he was meant to go.<br/><br/>Jim seemed slightly out of place with his ball cap, boots and rough hands, looking like a working man had accidentally stumbled into a college. However, he easily found the hall where the lecture was taking place, took a program, and sat down in an aisle seat, finding the best seat for maximum comfort. A leg splayed out into the aisle. He smiled and nodded at those who sat next to him, an attrtacive blonde catching his attention for a few moments. Were he not sedated, he would have stuck up a conversation with her. That wasn't what he was here for though. He settled back, eyes heavy-lidded, brain buzzing with feel-good chemicals. The lecture started. Doctor Wade's monotone voice was indeed as effective as Jim had hoped. Jim almost entered a trance, listening to the doctor's voice. The pain in his joints disappeared. The stress of his life - his battered body, his poverty, his family back home - all melted away. His brain seemed floating in a vat, looking at a television screen that was his eyeball's vision. In this state, he found that he could understand the doctor - like, really<em>listen</em>- and hear what he was saying. Were he to sit there for any other reason, he would fidget and daydream and try to leave. But he felt smarter when he could sit still. Sure, Ritalin made him concentrate also, but it brought his physical pain into sharp relief. This way was more fun, and more comfortable.<br/><br/>Dr Wade spoke of the connections of the human race, not metaphors but literal DNA connections. In his mind's state, Jim soaked it all in. Why not believe? His family was born of skepticism via monotheism - the ability to resist any metaphysical theory because their conservative religion was all the metaphysics they needed. Anything not proscribed by the church could, in this skeptical age, be safely dismissed just like a skeptical atheist would do, as long as it wasn't<em>their</em>belief. Paradoxically, Jim's leaving of the church did not make him more skeptical, but instead opened him up to other metaphysical possibilities.<em>Why not believe?</em><br/><br/>There was much the speech left on the table. Jim did not quite grasp it, but he saw that there was more to be said. The lecturer mentioned continuing tomorrow. Jim's original plan was to get his fix and move on, but there was something about this theory that was different than the usual mystical or pseudo-scientific babble he had normally pursued. It had a ring of truth. There was no obvious, laughable hill the doctor chose to die on. Maybe it was just showmanship, but Jim wanted to know more because there was more to be heard, not just for his pleasure but for actually knowing.<br/><br/><em>Maybe</em>, Jim thought,<em>I can learn more from the Q and A. And come back tomorrow.</em>He stood up after the lecture, rubbed his eyes, and moved into the aisle. He watched the blonde who was sitting near him go up to the front. After a sly look-over from behind, he moseyed up to the front, listening to her and others ask their questions. He could listen to this man speak all day.<br/>