On the last day of the event something happened to me. I wish I could explain it, but my limited vocabulary makes it hard for me to describe the experience.
I was standing behind the video camera and tripod, working as a volunteer and taping the entire event. I volunteered to stand behind the camera because I was falling asleep as a participant in the audience. Fuller was not an especially dynamic speaker. In fact, I would say he was boring—he mumbled and used words I didn’t understand.
Just as the event was coming to a close, I looked up from the eyepiece of the camera, directly at Bucky, and a gentle a wave of energy went through me. I could feel my heart open and I began to cry. They weren’t tears of sadness or pain, but tears of gratitude for this man’s courage to do what he had been doing for years: guiding and teaching and looking into the future.
John Denver wrote and recorded a song dedicated to Dr. Fuller, after Bucky touched and inspired John’s life. The title of the song is “What One Man Can Do.”
John Denver’s tribute to Bucky Fuller in that song does a far better job of describing the experience I had that day with Bucky than I can do with words in this book.
The words in John Denver’s song that have always moved me are these:
It’s hard to tell the truth
When no one wants to listen
When no one really cares
What’s going on
And it’s hard to stand alone
When you need someone beside you
Your spirit and your faith
They must be strong
Followed by the refrain…
What one man can do is dream
What one man can do is love
What one man can do is change the world
And make it young again
Here you see what one man can do
Since this book is about second chances, I describe that event with Bucky Fuller because it was one of the many second chances I have had in my life. I returned to Honolulu a changed person.
At that time, in 1981, I had factories in Taiwan, Korea, and Hawaii that manufactured licensed products for the rock and roll industry. My company was producing products for the rock bands Pink Floyd, Duran Duran, Judas Priest, Van Halen, Boy George, Ted Nugent, REO Speedwagon, and The Police. I loved the business. My factories rolled out hats, wallets, and bags with faces and logos of the bands silk-screened on the products. On the weekends I would be at concerts watching my products being scooped up by raving, happy fans. It was a great business. I was single, living on the beach in Waikiki with neighbors like Tom Selleck, and making a lot of money… which used to make me happy.
The problem was that Fuller had touched my heart and I knew, in my heart, that my days of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and money were coming to an end. I kept asking myself, “What can I do to make the world a better place?” And “What am I doing with my life?”
In 1981, I was 34 years old. I now had three professions. I had gone to the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy in New York, received my Bachelor of Science Degree, and a third mate’s license to sail on oil tankers. I had gone to U.S. Navy Flight School and learned how to fly professionally. I briefly considered flying for the airlines, but when I returned from Vietnam, I knew that, although I loved flying, my days as a pilot were over. I was now an entrepreneur with a global manufacturing and distribution business. My rock and roll products were in national chains like JCPenney, Tower Records, and Spencer’s gift stores, at concerts with the bands, and offered by retailers in countries around the world through worldwide distributors.
My problem was I had met Bucky Fuller. And when I returned to my factory in Honolulu, my mind would drift back to what I had experienced in Montreal. As I’ve said, standing in the magical environment of that dome, never dreaming I would ever meet the man who designed it… then meeting him and knowing that my life was changing yet again.
My Spiritual Job
Rather than listen to rock and roll music, I was now listening to John Denver’s music. Whenever I listened to John sing What One Man Can Do, the song he dedicated to Fuller, I would ask myself over and over again: “What am I supposed to be doing with my life?”
Whenever I listened to rock and roll music, the only thing it inspired me to do was to go to the nightclubs of Waikiki.
When I listened to John Denver’s songs, my thinking started in my heart. Rather than stay out late in nightclubs, I spent more time alone, surfing or hiking just being with the beauty of nature. On weekends, I spent time in personal development workshops learning how to become a better person, emotionally and spiritually. My more gentle side raised a few eyebrows among my Marine Corps friends and I found myself spending more time with business groups focused on solving social problems in communities around town than with associates in rock and roll or retailing.
Slowly it dawned on me that we go to school with the hope of finding a financial profession known as a job. After meeting Fuller, I realized I was looking for my spiritual profession, my spiritual work, my spiritual job and my life’s purpose.
From 1981 to 1983, I studied with Dr. Fuller on three different occasions during the summers. Between summers, my new friends and I would get together to “group study” Fuller’s books. His books are not very easy to comprehend, so we would agree to study a chapter each week then get together at one of our houses to discuss and “mind-map” Fuller’s thoughts in that chapter.
Mind mapping is a method of using color and sketches, rather than words, to organize and prioritize Fuller’s thoughts in the chapter. The sketches were done on large sheets of flip chart paper and started with a core or central concept. The key to mind mapping is color and sketches, using very, very, few words. Using very few words forces the participant to put words and thoughts into pictures, which intensifies the learning and discussion process.
As we all know, two or more minds are better than one… except in school, where two or more minds working together is known as cheating. The group study—using discussion, color, and pictures—was exciting, stimulating, challenging, and never boring. Rather than late nights in nightclubs, I was now spending late nights in book study groups. I knew this was my second chance to find my life’s purpose. Rather than go to school to learn how to transport oil, or go to school to learn to rain terror from the skies, or go to school to learn how to manufacture and sell more rock and roll products, I was now “in school,” a new second chance school, learning how to be a better human being, learning—possibly—to be a person who might make a difference in the world.
The problem was, I had no idea then what my spiritual job was… or was to be. From 1981 to 1983, I dedicated a lot of time studying Fuller’s work. And 1983 was the last summer of events that I spent with him. He closed the conference with the words “Good-bye darling people. See you next summer.” But he didn’t see us the following summer. He died three weeks later on July 1, 1983.
Changes on the Horizon
By 1984, I knew I had to make changes… the problem was I was not sure what I was supposed to do… so I just decided to do something. As the saying goes:
“Sometimes you have to let go of what you love doing so you can do what you are supposed to do.”
I had also reread the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull, written by Richard Bach and first published in 1970.
The following