The cart path

An artist friend of mine gave me some advice many years ago. He told me not to read anything written about me and never listen to anything I said. He insisted that once something was out there, it was gone, and it was no longer you because you were reborn in each new moment. The past you become ghosts, illusions. It was you, but it is alive only within you as a memory of self.

When he told me this, I needed to hear it because I was drowning in self-scrutiny, which never served me or others. I wanted to get out there and be myself, but I didn’t want to hear about it endlessly. Putting yourself out there is a double-edged sword because you want to share stories and ideas but don’t wish to be defined by them.

I decided to break my rule with Lawrence Krauss; I had to.

The vibe was different than any other interview I’ve ever done. The room felt filled with portals instead of cameras, but it was how I got there - a chain of events that started with ice cubes in a golf club and ended in underground fight clubs and philosophy churches. When I sat across from Lawrence, I didn’t feel like I was recording a podcast. I was completing a cosmic connect-the-dots puzzle. A series of coincidences and tiny miracles led me to that moment, and there could be no other way.

Lawrence and I met on a sidewalk on a sunny day at a golf club, and what I noticed immediately about him was a sense of wonder and curiosity that, in my experience so far in life, is unrivaled. I’ve never met someone more astonished by the world around him. He was walking along a cart path and looking at plants with the wonder of a kid who just discovered photosynthesis when he suddenly looked up at me and smiled, then said hello. His light was and is on.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I do that. Let me back up.

I begged the Universe for a philosopher to appear in my life. No, really, I begged.

During a meditation session, I looked at the sky and said, “Please, bring me a philosopher!!”

I was studying various philosophy books and became saddened that I didn’t have anyone to talk to about what I was reading. Every attempt I made to speak to just about anyone was met with a glazed-over look of disinterest. I wanted a buddy to go down rabbit holes with me.

The next day, I was sitting at the golf club babysitting a friend's baby when a man named Jeff walked in and sat down with me. The baby and I were playing with a bowl of ice cubes, splashing water everywhere, and having a grand ol’ time.

Jeff joined in and started splashing. He ignored me completely; he was transfixed in the baby's simple physics experiments. Watching him watch the baby - equally absorbed in the moment - I finally asked what he did.

"Well, I’m a philosopher,” he said, as casually as someone might say they sell insurance.

That had my attention.

“The big question I can’t stop thinking about is .. why is there something, rather than nothing?”

Well, this was exciting. Finally, someone I could talk to. He waited until the baby’s mother returned to the table to tell her how wonderful her child was, and then he vanished. I wasn't sure if I'd see him again, but I wondered if he was the philosopher I sought. I treat coincidences like glitches in The Matrix - if you see the same cat twice, pay attention. And this felt like a black cat moment.

Fast forward to an end-of-life celebration that I’m throwing for a funeral.

This is a big event because the deceased was a remarkable woman who was a local celebrity of sorts. Jane Anderson died at 93, still golfing until the end - a firecracker who didn’t just navigate glass ceilings, she took a nine iron to them. I had the honor of being her last putting partner.

As one of the first women to compete with men and join San Francisco Golf Club’s elite ranks, Jane treated obstacles like tee markers—things to aim past. I threw her end-of-life celebration because role models like Jane deserve a send-off as bold as their lives. At 93, she was still the person I wanted to grow up to be.

We were about halfway through the evening when Jeff, the philosopher, approached me and said, ”Do you like MMA”?

“Well, I've never been to an MMA fight, so I can’t honestly tell you what I think about it without experiencing it first.”

I don’t like saying false things, if I can help it.

“Wanna go?” He says

“Sure,” I hesitated, “when?”

“Right now.” Jeff looks at me and grins. He’s serious. He’s entirely not joking.

“Uhm, I’m kind of at a funeral and a party that I’m throwing that I’m responsible for.”

“I can see that, and you’ve done a mighty fine job. I’ve been to many of these, and this one is swell. But it seems to be handled and is under control. This is for the dead. Let’s go live”

Well, when you put it like that… Jeff pushed all the right buttons. I didn’t see any flaws in his logic, and when a window of opportunity cracks open like that, you climb through it.

“Ok, then, let’s go!”

Jeff stayed in his funeral suit—there was no time to change—while I swapped clothes at my farm. He drove us to a tent in the middle of nowhere, where bootleg booze flowed from coffee canisters. His formal attire transformed him into what everyone assumed was the operation’s boss.

We got VIP seats ringside, close enough to see fighters strip down to their skivvies before climbing in. The violence was intimate - sweat droplets, bulging veins, the wet smack of flesh on flesh. But what got me was the aftermath: these guys would nearly kill each other, then hug like old friends. I still can’t decide if I loved it or hated it. The whole night felt like one of those dreams where you're both participant and witness, never quite sure you're awake.

After about six matches, Jeff declared that he had had enough and suggested dinner.

Over a vegetarian pizza, Jeff casually mentioned he was a classical musician, philosophy buff, licensed pilot, computer repair whiz, and casino pit boss - literally a jack of all trades.

Before dropping me off, he took me home and said, “Hey, do you want to go to church with me tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don't do churches.”

“Well, this isn’t like any other church. It is a philosophy church, and my pastor is an atheist.”

Jeff isn't dull.

So.. I said yes.

Jeff picked me up at the crack of dawn and drove me to Fallbrook to meet Jim - an atheist who hates being called "pastor," but I do it anyway. Jeff wasn’t kidding about this being different. Instead of sermons, Jim dissected the Tao Te Ching line by line, excavating ancient meanings and rebuilding them in a modern context. We would spend an hour discussing 2-3 lines at a time. Each week, another set.

During my farm visits, I kept attending Jim's unconventional church. One day, I asked about his dreams. Jim confessed to a fantasy: creating videos exploring the intersection of philosophy and science. I offered to sponsor the first one with no strings attached—as long as I could show up as a participant, no effort beyond that.

This is perfect content for my retirement community. (Yes, I deliberately live among 70 to 90-year-olds. That's another story, but picture an intentional living space where artists and free thinkers can keep being reborn.)

Fast forward about three months, and I get a call from Jim and Jeff. They are nervous and excited.

“Guess what, Cyan?! We got a speaker. Guess who?”

Crickets….

“Lawrence Krauss!!!”

That's a name I've heard of, but it isn’t anyone I knew anything about. I had only heard of him at my friend Penn Jillette's magic show. They say a trick they do is either inspired by him or influenced in some way, and they name him very specifically as part of the setup for the trick. I remember the first time I saw it, and I've seen that trick maybe four times now; I wondered who he was and told myself I’d to look him up… someday. Someday, I will learn who he is, I said to myself.

“Wow…. cool”” I said.”“Congrats!””

They sent me a promo photo and ticket link to promote, and everything else was, as designed, out of my hands. However, I should mention the website Jeff registered on: https://www.sci-phi-ls.com Go ahead. Reread it. I'll wait.

See it now?

Nothing says philosophical discourse quite like accidentally advertising a conference about syphilis. After I posted the link, I got several messages from my community, wondering what was up with that.

Confusion marketing.

I'm sorry, but it is funny. You have to laugh because it was a completely innocent accident. I can see Jim turning red now, but I’m sorry, Jim. It's funny—it just is.

When I saw Lawrence walking on the path, I knew he wasn’t local. I knew he had to be the speaker Jim and Jeff gushed about. I had only seen the photo in the marketing image they sent me, and he wasn't dressed like that, but it wasn't about how he looked; it was the way he looked. He wasn’t from around there, and his mind didn’t work like the others. It is just something you notice when you collect minds like I do. I found a remarkable one, like a rare Pokemon, and I was excited.

After greetings and stories, Lawrence dazzled us with magic tricks before taking the stage. He spoke science like a master storyteller, never dumbing down and always lifting. I can easily say he’s one of the best science communicators I've ever seen.

After the talk, the women in our retirement community found me:

"Finally,” they said,” someone who sees past our gray hair to our gray matter. Thank you for not talking about grandchildren or knitting.”

Home run.

Check out Jim’s other content on his YouTube channel when you can.

Lawrence left, but we kept in touch and started talking regularly about the world and what we’d like to be more in service of. Lawrence and I shared a higher calling around free speech and inquiry. When I probed deeper, I discovered his passions around these areas deeply aligned with mine, so I asked him what his dreams were beyond what he was doing already, and he mentioned two filmmakers he worked with, Gus and Luke, and how he wanted to help them with their careers in any way he could, he mentioned a family he wanted to save in Afghanistan, work he wished to do with The Origins Project - his foundation and source of this podcast, books he would like to write and something to do with the film industry and cancellations. He specifically mentioned wanting to help Meg Smaker, the director of a film called” The Unredacted.”

My favorite way to get to know people is through collaboration, so I suggested we collaborate on something together to get to know one another as friends. Our time is incredibly valuable, so I figured if we could find something to sink our minds into, it is what I like to call a “Win, win, win.” If I can compound wins, that is my goal with most interactions. After thinking about it, we decided to start a film production and distribution company together. We haven’t announced this yet and will soon provide more details, but we're still deep in that collaboration.

Though Lawrence's podcast hosts the world's brightest minds, I avoided watching it —I didn't want the internet’s version coloring my view of my new friend. Then, one day, he deemed me interview-worthy. Coming from Lawrence, who’d spent months studying my mind through our collaborations, this was like getting an award. He thought his audience would dig my story.

People don't see how much effort Lawrence puts into these interviews. He easily spends up to 30 hours reading everything you've ever written and anything he can find that you've said. He takes pages of notes, and he immerses his mind singularly in you until he forms a game plan on how to draw your origins story. You also have a chance to ask him fun science questions, as it is a dialogue. Admittedly, I did not because 3.5 hours passed, and it felt like 30 minutes. I was having so much fun with him, and his questions were interesting enough that I forgot I was on a podcast, which was just Lawrence and me.

People don't see the behind-the-scenes things Lawrence does for his crew. Wherever he goes, he always takes care of those around him. He takes them out to eat and entertains them with card tricks because he knows those things matter and they make someone’s day. He remembers stories he’s been told before and inquires about people’s lives. A very social creature, he likes to talk with every wait staff member, and he’s incredibly down to earth.

I wanted to see this interview because it captured us as friends in a snapshot of time. I'll look back fondly on it, and it is a beautiful dialogue that my grandchildren and their children can watch to learn pieces of their origin story. I've watched part of it. I'm still too self-critical, and I’d like to get rid of that attachment. But I can tell you that what I watched was beautifully done. The Origins team did a fantastic job. I watched enough to remember bits and pieces but ultimately left it in my mind, where my version of what happened is more multi-dimensional. At some point, with a little more work, I should be able to go and watch it in its entirety. What you see as a podcast, which it is, I see it as a collaboration between two friends striving to be better people every day and who both serve a higher purpose. This is the product of a journey that is only beginning, with more to come.

Please let me know what you think, and if you have the time, please visit Lawrence'’s foundation to see more of his work.