In order to understand the events of the next several years, I need to briefly describe what Paul was up to during this time. Please keep in mind that I am in no way a technical person, and most of what I relay to you here may very well be distorted. If it sounds complicated, I apologize. I don’t really understand how any of it works, but I do understand the end result, which is quite relevant to our story.
Paul’s company designed miniature devices used to record audio and video, as well as software to analyze what was recorded. Tiny cameras and microphones, which could be hooked to your ear or attached to a pair of glasses, sent data to a storage unit attached to your belt. The data could then be transferred to a computer and analyzed using their software.
Early on, the software simply converted spoken words into text. One could then read a transcript of all clearly spoken words on the audio. But as the company began to grow, some very talented minds found their way into the organization. One person, in particular, specialized in what Paul referred to as object identification software, which apparently was able to identify objects in recorded video.
But the real key to the explosive growth of the company was what they called “process recognition” technology. This was a program that could analyze video data and identify processes taking place within the video, such as closing a door or petting a cat. So a person could walk around with a tiny video camera attached to their ear or to a pair of glasses, and later transfer what they recorded to a computer to be analyzed. The program could then go through and identify everything you did during that time, quantifying each process.
For example, one could wear their video glasses all day and later transfer the data to their computer. They could then look through a list of all the processes they engaged in that day – making breakfast, driving to work, etc.
One of the things that excited Paul the most was that the program actually learned, with your help. As you went through the data collected, you could pause the program and tell it what you did in a particular segment. Perhaps you tied your shoe, and the program did not recognize it. So you could specify that the process taking place from the 6.2 minute marker to the 6.8 minute marker was “tying shoes”, and the program would learn that. Then, the next time it identified the same objects being manipulated in the same way, it would identify that process as “tying shoes”.
In this way the program learned, and the more time you spent teaching the program what each process was, the more accurate it became in identifying a wide variety of processes. Most employees at the company began wearing glasses equipped with cameras, and they all transferred their video data to the same database. Then each employee would go through and identify the processes within their video footage.
As the months went by, their program learned many processes, which could be combed through and analyzed the way any database can. Paul and Ravi knew that there were many possible applications for the devices and accompanying software they were developing.
The entire package, which they dubbed PIT, for process identification technology (PIT Technologies became the name of the company), could be used by students in class and lectures, by law enforcement, coaches and sports analysts, and many others. The possibilities seemed endless, and the buzz surrounding the company steadily grew. They filed for and acquired many patents, and they began to receive buyout offers from some very big companies.
It was a very strange time for Paul and I. We had lived in California for a year by then, and I was not the least bit involved in Paul’s company. My attention was on the retreat I planned to create up north. I had started with a very vague idea of what such a project might involve and gradually, as time went by, I began to identify more specifics.
During this time I traveled to a number of established spiritual retreats and facilities throughout California. Some of them you may have heard of, others probably not. The people at most of them were extremely nice and very motivated. Most had a very definite direction, whether it was a specific religion or practice such as Zen Buddhism or Christianity. There were many that fell into what one might call the New Age category. Some were very progressive, focused upon the development of psychic abilities and awareness.
The variety I found was astounding. I had no idea that so many people were pursuing such a variety of spiritual interests, and I was extremely inspired by most of what I saw. I say most, because there was one place I visited that was veering dangerously close to a cult of sorts, though the people there would certainly deny that. I won’t describe that particular experience in detail, partly because it was somewhat disturbing. Suffice it to say that the people there had dedicated themselves to their teacher in ways which, from my perspective, appeared to be not only disempowering but even dangerous.
That experience taught me one important thing: the emphasis of any sort of teaching or spiritual involvement must be on the individual, on the empowerment of the individual. I saw firsthand how cults can take shape: people can become so enamored with their teacher or leader that they begin to see him or her as infallible, as the conduit through which a greater power flows. They gradually see this person as more than themselves, as an authority figure whose knowledge and power far exceeds their own. I’m glad I witnessed such circumstances, because I would later learn to be very vigilant when dealing with the tendency of some people to hold their teacher above themselves.
So as we passed into our second year in California, two things happened: Paul and I became officially engaged, and Paul and Ravi sold 20 percent of their company. And do you know what that meant? Suddenly, after scraping by for the better part of a year, we had more money than we knew what to do with. Just like that. I won’t tell you how much, but it was certainly enough that I didn’t have to go find a job, which had been a distinct possibility before then.
So now we had some money, and I began looking for a site for my retreat in earnest. I also began making wedding plans. However, I did not have a desire for a big wedding. I knew most of my family and friends back home would not travel to California, so I decided on a small reception, 60 people. The wedding was held the following summer, in July, and the only sadness I felt was that Harry was not there. I had not spoken to Harry for more than a year by then, and to be honest I had begun to suspect that I never would again.
So Paul and I got married, and afterward he and I spent an amazing week in Barbados. The day after we returned, we received a package in the mail that immediately changed everything. It was from Harry, and it was the manuscript for his book. It was called The Relative Truth, and there was a brief note attached asking Paul and I to read through it and make any changes we thought appropriate.
There was also a check for $10,000 included, to cover any publishing costs. Harry indicated that we could self-publish, if no publisher was interested in it. His note said that he would be in touch with us at some point, but that we could go ahead and publish the book without any further directions from him.
After I read the note and glanced through the manuscript, I sat on the couch in our living room and thought about Harry. To be honest, I was a little annoyed. Yes, Paul and I had agreed, several years before, to publish Harry’s book. But I felt we, or I, deserved more than a quick note and a check for $10,000.
I wanted to grab him by his ear and ask him what his problem was. Why did he have to be such a hermit? Why the seclusion? My annoyance lasted into the evening, and when Paul arrived home I pointed to the manuscript and note on the table. Paul read the note, but much to my surprise he was not the least bit annoyed by Harry’s actions.
“Aren’t you bothered by this?” I asked him. “He hasn’t spoken to us in over a year, and now we’re supposed to drop everything and do this for him?”
Paul smiled at me, and I suddenly realized I was missing the bigger picture, whatever that might be.
“I think we should read it first, before we vilify the guy,” Paul said.
I didn’t respond, but I knew he was right. There was a lot I didn’t understand about Harry, but the bottom line was that, other than secluding himself and being a hermit, he hadn’t really done anything wrong. He had simply chosen to keep to himself for a while. I decided that I would take Paul’s advice and read Harry’s manuscript before deciding how I felt about the whole thing.
So the next day I began reading The Relative Truth.
And before long, I began to see myself, and my life, in an entirely new way.
