There was a practical side of Daniel that defied easy description. He lived in a body but did not seemingly care about his surroundings, certainly not in the way most of us do. He had an old white Ford van that he lived out of most of the time and knew where he could park it. He also knew when public showers or other amenities were available. He clearly chose to live amongst the unwashed masses and knew the exact circumstance of every homeless or “street” person that we encountered or chanced upon, often using their situation[s] to illustrate the meaninglessness of most strivings and worldly accomplishments, to show how temporary we all are, to show how silly and fragile our hopes and fears are when just “humping it down the road” was really what most of us are all about. Should we hang our usefulness on the idea of progeny? Should we hope for immortality by having multiple children that might one day have more children and continue the dream? Should we accept the Tibetan wisdom that just having a body was the sign of ignorance, or was there something more to consider? Perhaps it was and IS possible to break this chain of empty continuance and become something more; to become one with all that is? If so, how? This was during the phase of his teaching that I would describe as deconstruction, years later he would begin the constructive phase of teachings that he only hinted about during this timeframe.

At times he would have other shelters available. During one timeframe, he was accepted as stabilizing and mature for those that lived in a Grateful Dead house in Oakland and given the back porch for his use. Now this house was mostly used as a crash pad for lost looking, often starry-eyed, youth. They would come and go, both girls and boys in their teens or twenties, rather gullible and vulnerable in many ways, passing their days in a haze of drugs and sex and the exploration of freedom and energies that could not be easily captured nor described. We would wile away the hours and the days playing chess and talking about God and awareness on the back porch paying little attention to what occurred on the other side of the glass except when we picked our way through the bodies to reach the restroom inside.

Then one day a crisis suddenly arose. An illustrating story was laid out in front of us and I knew with certainty that Daniel was about to make use of it to give me instructions. These types of events could not possibly have been orchestrated by him, but they continually came up! We were looking out through the screened walls in front of us across the narrow alley into a neighbor's back yard watching his dog, who was tied to a post with too long a rope and had managed to entangle it around a light pole in such a way that all he could do was lie quietly for help, whining and periodically tugging at it in a futile effort to regain some of his freedom when suddenly our attention was redirected to the living room of the crash pad behind us. The sound that alerted us was the scariest sound one could ever hear in such circumstances – silence. Yes silence, complete and utter silence.

We turned back around and before I even had time to take in what was happening Daniel was out of his chair and through the door. About the time I reached the doorway he was within a few feet of where the mini-drama was being played out. A giant of a man, looking to be in his thirties and dressed as a biker with leather clothing and bandana and beard and many tattoos held a squirming little blonde girl that looked about sixteen on his lap and was kissing her aggressively.

“Hey,” says Daniel, getting the biker's attention. You must understand that Daniel was a muscular looking guy but he hardly topped five foot ten and 160 pounds whereas the biker appeared to be about 6’ 6” and 300 pounds. He was a giant amongst a group of small young horrified people that did not know what action they could possibly take as calling the police was not really on their list of options.

“Hunh?” says the biker looking up whilst the girl lets out a scream. The biker puts a big hand over her mouth and forces her head back awkwardly, she looks like about 85 pounds of pure vulnerability. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you to let the girl go, get up, and leave,” says Daniel firmly.

This tickled the biker’s fancy tremendously, “Ho, ho, ho,” he chuckled, “you and who else’s army?”

“Just me,” says Daniel, “and I am asking you nicely. It is obvious the girl does not appreciate your advances. This house is a safe place for such as her.”

“Well, well,” replies the biker, “so you are the chief baby sitter here, and this bitch is part of your brood? Ho, ho, ho.” and he laughed again, sizing the Daniel up a bit, surprised that he has not backed off ... yet. “Well, if I choose to go somewhere I am taking this bitch with me! Just exactly what do you intend to do about it?”

“I am going to show you something,” replies Daniel and takes a book of matches out of his T-shirt pocket. As the biker looks on bemusedly Daniel lights a match. I notice that the girl has gone limp in his lap and am wondering if he has broken her neck or if she has gone unconscious for not being able to breathe. I look back to Daniel and the lit match that is held in his right hand is approaching his left hand, which he turns palm downward and holds over the flame. Within a few seconds the smell of burning flesh is permeating the air. I glance to the biker and see that he is turning pale. If you have ever smelled burning flesh you know how sickening it is. “I want you to know,” Daniel says looking right at the biker, who now looks like he is about to pass out, “that just as I have no fear of fire, I also have no fear of you.” And as he said this he was somehow transformed into the scariest being you have ever seen with a penetration of the biker's self-image that seemed palpable to me.

The biker stood up and the limp body of the girl slid to the floor as he lurched blindly toward the front door, looking like he wanted to puke, and just trying to get the hell out of this place. In a moment he was gone and Daniel popped the burning stub of the match into his mouth. Several of us lifted the girl onto the couch and she was already coming around, within seconds it was apparent that she was okay.

Daniel was on the back porch smoking a cigarette when I came out a few moments later. “I have heard all about crazy wisdom before,” I said, “but I have never seen it in action before today, never witnessed it with my own eyes before.”

“It is what it is,” said the Daniel nonchalantly, exhaling a larger than normal cloud of smoke, “there is always more than one way to do anything.”

“How about your hand?” I asked, “do we need to put anything on the burn?”

“Okay.” he replied, and smiled at me without moving.

 
I had been given a lesson that I would never forget.