The 1980's were a time of self-indulgence for many, and I was certainly no exception. Music continued to be a passion of mine, but in the '80's the spirit of soulful discovery that characterized much of what I loved about the 1970's was gradually replaced by the cold-hearted reality of the Reagan era. By the spring of 1987, I had spent 7 years in the music business - first as a nightclub DJ, then a Music Programmer, Producer, and Engineer - and I was burned out from partying and staying up late all the time. I was ready for a major life change.
My good friend David had made the decision to return to college in his late 20's, and he told me how much more he was enjoying school as an older student. Even though I had barely made it through high school 10 years earlier, I valued my friend's experience and I trusted his advice. After carefully weighing my options, I decided to give college a try at age 29. I quit my job in the recording studio, requested my high school transcripts (ugh) and enrolled in the local community college. Initially, my intention was to pursue a degree in Communications (for sports broadcasting) which would have merged some of my existing interests and talents (sports, writing, public speaking) and perhaps developed a few new ones as well. But as is so often the case, the Universe had other ideas.
Because I had enrolled just a few weeks before Fall classes began, I was only able to pick up a single broadcasting class - which I hated. My childhood fantasies of being a professional sportscaster ended after just 2 weeks of doing the morning sports reports for the school radio station. Free of that illusion, I turned my attention to my other class: an interdisciplinary course that featured English and Mythology. It was a fascinating combination, and the constant reading and writing stimulated my rusty mind and slowly began to re-awaken my spiritual capacities. One of my professors was an eccentric philosopher genius named Mark Levensky, and as fate would have it, we bonded instantly. In what was clearly a harbinger of things to come, I even did a speech that featured the Tao Te Ching! But the real eye-opener came toward the end of Fall semester, when it came time to register for my Winter classes. I was done with sports broadcasting, but I still wanted to try my hand at Communications.
I had reviewed the course offerings for Winter and made my tentative selections when Mark Levensky asked which classes I planned to take. I showed him my list of the various Communications classes I hoped to register for. Professor Levensky looked at my list, pursed his lips, and with a hint of disgust, slowly shook his head. I watched in shock as he took out his pen and started crossing out my class selections. "Hey, what are you doing?! I already know which classes I want!" But he just ignored me as he opened the class catalog and started making his own list. When he finished, he handed me the revised list and said "NOW you're ready to continue your education." His list: Introduction To Philosophy, Contemporary Moral Problems, Philosophy Of Religion. "Philosophy?!" I moaned. "What makes you think I'll like Philosophy?" I asked. I will remember for as long as I live (perhaps even longer) the bemused look on Mark Levensky's face as he turned, eyed me intently, and said "because it's my job to know what's good for your soul."
And at that precise moment, somewhere in the far distant reaches of the Universe, a choir of angels (or at least my guides) probably started singing Hallelujah. The arc of my education, my destiny, and my soul were never the same after that brief divinely-inspired intervention by Mark Levensky. Thanks to his advice, I belatedly discovered Socrates, Plato, and the rich history of Philosophy - which rekindled my love of learning and wisdom. I kept in touch with Mark for a few years after that episode, and 24 years later, I remain grateful for the profound effect he had on my life. Even as I write this today, I find myself filled with a certain love and admiration for Mark Levensky, who embodies the true spirit of what it means to be a Teacher.
To be continued...
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