He fought for his life, then fought for his soul.  Amid violence, chaos, and self-destruction, he found salvation in the love of a good woman, and the wisdom of Truly Noland.

                    In Search of Truly Noland is the autobiographical story of one man's journey in search of inner peace and enlightenment.  The story traces the life of S. D. Bates from his early years in San Francisco, California, in the 1950's, through the trials of an abusive upbringing, ferocious combat in Vietnam, the resulting personal struggles with the destructive effects of post-traumatic stress disorder and, finally, spiritual redemption through the discovery of the higher self within.  With the help of Truly Noland the author realizes the secrets of overcoming fear and living in the warm light of love, peace, freedom, and happiness.

Order your copy today:               $16.95

Published by Infinity Publications

     Available now at www.buybooksontheweb.com/description.asp?ISBN=0-7414-2369-3  Look for it on www.Amazon.com in March.

Contact the author at sdbates@cox.net

Return to TheBodyMindandSpirit www.thebodymindandspirit.com

In Search of Truly Noland by S. D. Bates Excerpt I walked down the track a ways until I came to a spot where the tracks crossed over a river. Under the bridge I could see a faint light flickering. I eased down cautiously toward the light. There by the river an old hobo sat crouched over a small fire made of twigs. He held on to the lid of a tin can that had been partially separated from the body of the can and bent back to serve as a handle for the tin can cooking pot. The can was dented and polished from wear. I edged a little closer. He spoke without looking at me. “You aiming to hurt me boy, or are you just scared of a harmless old man?” I straightened up and looked around. We were the only two human beings in the vicinity. I relaxed a little, but kept my distance. I knew something about harmless old men. “I’m just passing through,” I said. “I saw the light from your fire.” “Watcha running from sonny?” he asked. “I’m not running,” I said. “Who said I was running? I’m just traveling through, on my way to the mountains. Gonna live like Jim Bridger.” “Oh. Well excuse me then,” he said. “I just figured you being so young and all, and it being so late, you know, but what the hey do I know? I ran away from home when I was ten, but that don’t mean we all gonna do that, right?” “Right,” I laughed. “Watcha got cooking there?” He looked at his can lovingly. His hands held it steady over the low flame. “Got myself a little carrot soup going,” he said. “You hungry boy?” I could see he did not have enough for two. I shook my head and told him no thank you as I moved a little closer. I sat down a few feet away and watched him make his soup. He pulled a stump of a carrot out of his shirt pocket. He unwrapped the carrot from a flimsy piece of wax paper and laid the paper carefully to one side. The carrot had a string through its thick end. The stump looked withered and worn. He tested the water in the can with his finger. When he was satisfied with the temperature he dipped the carrot stump into the can and began to bob it like a tea bag. Then he let it rest in the can while he turned his attention to me. “Gonna live like Jim Bridger, eh? That’s a pretty tall order. Gets cold out here. Food’s hard to come by too. Don’t envy you that kind of life sonny.” “Looks like you’re doing all right,” I said. “Well, I guess I am doing better than some folks,” he said. “But I ain’t no mountain man. I like living free, but I couldn’t do it without the help of some good-hearted people along the way. Mountain men, they’s there because they lost faith in the human race, but I think they’s still some good in it. What do you think boy?” I knew right away how I felt. “What’s so good about it?” I said. “It’s a stinking mess. Too many people are mean and cruel, and as far as I’m concerned there’s no hope for it.” “You see. Now that’s where we differ,” he said. “I see people as changeable, but first they got to know why and how. You think you could change your ways if you had to boy?” “I don’t have to change,” I said. “I’m not mean and cruel.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But you just did a real dumb thing and now you are running from it. You hurt some people. You hurt yourself. You upset the peace you had workin’, and you set yourself back on account of it. I don’t know that much, I reckon, but I do know this much: We can help change our world to a more peaceful place only by changing ourselves first. You are part of the problem boy.” He took the carrot stump from the can and tapped it lightly on the rim. Then he gently wrapped it again in the wax paper he had saved, and put it back in his pocket. He sipped the concoction in the can, smiled and blew out a sigh. “Mmmm, this soup’s better than the last batch I made,” he said. He made it look so delicious I began to salivate myself, but I was determined not to let him catch me off guard. “I already told you, I’m not running from anything,” I said. “You don’t know me. You’re just fishing for something. I gotta go now.” With that I pulled myself to my feet and began to leave. He said, “I used to have a boy like you. I lost him somewhere along the way. I’ve been going around to places he liked to go, but I don’t think he knows he’s lost yet. We haven’t been able to find each other. I’m not sure he’s even looking.” “I’m sorry, mister,” I said. “I can see you are a lonely old man. I hope you find your son someday. What’s his name? If I see him, I’ll tell him I saw you here.” “‘Preciate it. His name is Bub, same as mine,” he said. “Just Bub?” I said. “Just Bub,” he said. “Not just any Bub ‘course, but just Bub. Nice to know you boy. You take care. Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.” “Could be,” I said, but I knew there was little chance of that. “Take care old timer.” I felt sorry for the old guy. Seemed like he was the one who was lost, and maybe his son didn’t even want to find him. My heart was sad for him