Larry Vingelman

Carl Spackler is a dysfunctional greenkeeper at an up-scale country club. His demeanor is crude and abrasive, his speech permanently slurred. He is the epitome of a man untethered to reality. In one of many wild claims he loves to recall to anyone within earshot, he tells a young employee that he once caddied for the Dali Lama. Asked whether the Dali Lama left him a tip, he replies, “Yes, he gave me total consciousness. So, at least I got that going for me.” This great tongue-in-cheek moment is one of many in the cult classic Caddyshack. Despite its service to comedy, this scene has always resonated with me. Sometimes the catalyst for a life-long journey into self-exploration can originate from something seemingly trivial, like a quiet accident, a mere tip from the Dali Lama.

Life is often so fluid it is difficult to point to any one moment that will have a lasting effect on the remainder of one’s life. Other times, earth-shattering events can be quite obvious. When I was just a boy of twelve years, my father died abruptly. My young, illiterate and now ailing mother never quite recuperated until she too passed shortly thereafter. In Detroit, Michigan where I grew up, working in the burgeoning automobile manufacturing plants was practically compulsory for high-school graduates of low-income families. It was an imperative I gladly undertook along with nearly the entire graduating class of my public high school. For eight to ten hours a day, seven days a week, I transported a large piece of steel from point A to point B. Years passed, then something special happened. A quiet accident. A tip from the Dali Lama. A question I had always asked myself now demanded an answer. Is this it? Is this all life has to offer? Is this the ultimate resolution of my life?

No. No. A thousand times no. I enrolled in community college and graduated at the top of my class. Soon after I was thriving in business school at the University of Michigan. Internships, side-jobs, blood, sweat, and tears. A career with regional banks turned into national ones, until I finally hit my big break. I joined two other young entrepreneurs I had met in business school to develop a new technology. At that time, we just called it a “clicker,” it was a convenient little device that transmitted radio waves to lock and unlock a vehicle from your pocket. Today the technology is so ubiquitous most people just refer to our invention as one’s car keys. As CFO, we successfully initiated our first public stock offering, then a second, followed by multiple acquisitions. After decades of growth and the timely selling of shares, I was finally afford something I never thought possible: time.

Over the course of my life, I attribute my success and positive outlook to yoga, meditation, and eastern philosophy. Each serves a function essential to a fulfilling life. Yoga to prepare the body, meditation to see the light, and philosophy to gain the tools necessary to convey what the light is. For decades I have been toiling with The Ninth Siddhi, an exploratory look into how group meditation can influence world peace. Thousands upon thousands of pages of research have bolstered my scribbles into a finished piece I will pursue until the curtains close.