Rich Life: A Journey of Self Discovery

By Richard Holland

An entertaining and thought provoking memoir that shares experiences that help develop habits for finding happiness in Life.
Richard Holland is a former U.S. Navy man, stationed in Japan, who fell in love with the Japanese woman, married her, had a family and ended up living in Hawai’i running a successful dolphin swim tour company.
Join Richard in his deep-seated passion and communion with God. His roller-coaster “Journey of Self Discovery” can be your guide in overcoming obstacles to find your way in life as he introduces to you the possibility to have a life filled in miracles, happiness, and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Peace Ebooks
• Release date: Jan 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781642732245

Richard Holland

Richard Holland graduated from the Open University in Milton Keynes and has worked within the building materials industry for over twenty-one years. His first crime novel, Killing Time, was published by Troubador in 2020. Richard is based in Northampton.

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Table of Contents

Dedication to Ariya

Prologue

Chapter One:

Living for Opportunity, not Security

Chapter Two:

An Inner Voice Made Clear in Japan

Chapter Three:

Dangers on the Boat

Chapter Four:

Guam Romance

Chapter Five:

Presenting My Credentials as a Civilian in Japan is No Easy Matter

Chapter Six:

An English Student obsessed with James Brown

Chapter Seven:

Learning to Breathe

Chapter Eight:

Rich Life Begins with a Spiritual Journey

Chapter Nine:

A Wedding with Divine Intervention

Chapter Ten:

A Hawaiian Honeymoon and First Dolphin Encounter

Chapter Eleven:

Ariya Leads Us Back to Maui

Chapter Twelve:

The Tokyo House Husband

Chapter Thirteen:

Meeting the Master of the Flower of Life

Chapter Fourteen:

Close Encounters with the Translators of Shirley’s books

Chapter Fifteen:

From Dr. Fritz’s clinic to Paulo Coelho’s Kitchen

Chapter Sixteen:

Why Would Any Sane Person Leave Tokyo for Maui

Chapter Seventeen:

The House Guest Who Could See All the Way to Brazil

Chapter Eighteen:

The Dolphins Tell Terry Who is the Chosen One

Chapter Nineteen:

From a Showdown at Makua Beach to the Governor’s Mansion

Chapter Twenty:

The Working Wife and House Husband

Chapter Twenty One:

My Twin Sister Takes Charge of the Hawaiian Rainbow

Chapter Twenty Two:

A Woman Who Could Accept Me As I Am

Chapter Twenty Three:

Desperate for a Boat, It’s Amazing What Your Imagination Can Create

Chapter Twenty Four:

A Wedding on the Deck

Chapter Twenty Five:

How Superwoman Earned Her Name

Chapter Twenty Six:

A Three-Generation Family in Nagoya

Chapter Twenty Seven:

Ariya, Jewel of the Harbor

Epilogue

Suggested Reading

Dedication to Ariya

Since Ariya passed away over 30 years ago, every morning and every night, when I wake and before I go to bed, the first and last thing of the day I do is kiss her picture. I bow to Ariya and thank my first child for coming into my life to help me on the path of awakening and realization. Ariya allowed me a direct connection with God. Through her I have been given this abundant, blessed, miraculous, and challenging life.

Prologue

In the early 1980s, the world was changing inside out. Coming of age, we were getting our first computers, going online, and if that wasn’t incredibly new and different enough, we had Shirley MacLaine to grapple with. Through one best-selling book after another, Shirley opened my generation to a parallel world of spirituality that ushered many of us — or rather thrust us — into this realization that we had no choice but to awaken now. It was in my face: There’s no turning back, Mr. Richard.

Shirley led us on this journey across a spiritual threshold through the bizarre twists and turns of her own life story far away from the Hollywood spotlight. It was well documented, and well understood. Each experience, whether it was meeting a channeler or beings from other realms of the universe, Shirley’s stories became an initiation into higher understanding. And at the same time, she tested us to the limits. In my case, reading Out on a Limb, I couldn’t help but question who I was and where I was going.

When I doubted what Shirley was saying, life came back at me with stronger evidence not to judge things by emotions alone. What looked like misfortune was a human judgment call. Shirley said there are no accidents and this way of thinking became embedded in my psyche forever.

She went on to describe a divine plan for each one of us, and that we are all in the right place at the right time for our growth, our spiritual evolution. Shirley had experienced two paths in her life. One was the path of tangible gain, financial success and social position. She took that path as an actress and reached the pinnacle of the material world, you might say. The other path, her midlife choice, was spiritual evolution, where you take full responsibility and are consciously aware of the choices you make in your life.

While I was reading Out on a Limb, my life started to become an opportunity to exercise self-responsibility for the choices I had made. As I read her perplexing book, I started to play a game, or my rational mind did. It was a true or false game. Every time I read something challenging, or which made me stop to think, I asked myself: True or False? I needed to put this all to the test myself. I wanted to believe, but I doubted, too.

Some of the stories that you’re going to read in my book may seem to you far-fetched too. I invite you to do the same thing I did. Each time you come across a spiritually challenging idea in this book, you can ask yourself: True or false?

You too can validate the existence of the special people in your life story who go beyond friendship to become your teachers. Some lessons are quite pleasant and it’s easy to thank our teachers for helping us achieve our dreams. Then there are other teachers who facilitate the opposite. Teachers can give you the harshest lessons imaginable on your way to finding God. It’s very hard in a heated situation to be able to thank them and understand their motivation for behavior that seems unreasonable, if not downright cruel, especially when they are trusted friends or family members. But the truth is, we’re all children of God, on the path of spiritual evolution, and we tend to mirror each other in painful ways.

But we also are incredibly resilient and capable of changing. We may not be able to change others, but we can certainly change ourselves. We don’t need to linger in toxic relationships or stay stuck in a location where we’re not thriving. A healthy body and mind are like two angels, our constant companions when we admit them into our lives. They accompany us wherever we go.

I needed to experience the things that happened in this book and I needed to learn how to put an end to toxic relationships. I needed to know what God is and to see God in every situation. Coming from a background of being a non-believer, there were plenty of growing pains involved here, and big time, because I knew I would become responsible for my choices now. The fast lane was not an option any more. It had been a lot of fun on the other side. The expression ignorance is bliss worked in my early life but once it’s embedded in your consciousness that there’s more to life than meets the eye, there’s no going back. In your life too, when the things I describe in this book happen to you, ask yourself what you need to learn from this experience. Don’t be afraid to ask, and when you do, you can discover the exhilaration and miracles that happen when you open your heart to your life.

Chapter One:

Living for Opportunity,

not Security

Commanding Officer Knight stood before me in his blinding white uniform, with gold bars on his shoulders and a stack of ribbons on his chest. I never, ever had encountered a man of his rank in the years I had served in the US Navy. It was unthinkable for an enlisted man of my relatively insignificant position to even be in his presence, let alone one on one. Yet, there I was in his august office, with the plush red carpet, and imposing oak desk and the elaboratelighting. My commanding officer’s stature was deific. You would be a fool to retire and give up everything you have worked so hard for, and earned, he said.What he didn’t realize was that I was yearning for something beyond physical and material comfort.

The Commander was the highest ranking person to sign us out of the military. He didn’t meet with every sailor he signed out. But none of his underlings had been as able to convince me to change my mind. I had been sent to the Commander so that he could sell me on the virtues of devoting my life to the Stars and Stripes. What could be more noble, more heroic, more romantic, and more secure than serving America the Beautiful? I stood there silently nodding. But inside I knew a different truth, a belief in something greater than ourselves.

There are some whom the Navy couldn’t care less if they stayed or not. In my case, they had invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in my twelve years of training. My knowledge and technical expertise as an aviation mechanic qualified me to work for NASA, where I saw myself heading next.

The Commander was trying to seduce me into believing what a privilege it would be to further devote my life to serving America the Beautiful. At the time, Tom Cruise was starring in the big hit movie, Top Gun, in which he portrayed a swashbuckling Navy pilot and glorified military service. I had stood at mind-numbing attention while our national anthem played at countless events throughout my Navy career. I knew both sides to the story. The Commander used statistics, intelligence, and his power of persuasion, insisting that I would be be back. Well over 90% of those who served as long as you have returned, he said, as he held up a list of names of re-enlistees. He also made it clear that I had the luxury of ninety days to think about it without losing any rank, pay or position.

Petty Officer Holland, the military needs young men like you to achieve our mission. It would be a great loss if you leave us. But it would be an even greater loss for you, and an end to a notable career. Please think long and hard before you make this decision because it will change the outcome of the rest of your life. Of course, that's exactly what I had hoped that Navy discharge would do. Change my life.

Chapter Two:

An Inner Voice

Made Clear in Japan

I had been destined to be a house builder, like my father before me. When I graduated from high school, college was dangled before me because I was a star wrestler and captain of the squad. But the academic requirements turned me off from pursuing a sports scholarship.

In June 1978 I was elated to be graduating from high school and its bells, teachers yelling, pressure of tests, and book reports. I had been sweating bullets on a job site, landscaping a yard with my cousin Donny for my dad. It was a blistering hot and humid Pennsylvania summer day. I was raking stones from a lawn with an enormous aluminum rake when I froze with the stark realization that this is it. This is the rest of my life. Out here doing this. I saw the whole future and it was bleak. In a word, hopeless. I wasn’t much of a believer in God. You would say I was a doubter. Being brought up as a Protestant, having gone to church every Sunday, learning the catechism, I had to appease my family. I remember hiding in the bushes with Alice Cooper air brushed on my jacket, in my six inch platform shoes, getting stoned to go to church in order to get through this experience. I called it that entity, reminding me to do this, do that, make something of yourself. If I didn’t, I would be a failure. It was constant pressure and I thought that graduating from high school I would now be joyfully free from those burdens.

My grandparents were the soft cushion in between. They were the rescue remedy in the equation, visiting us for Sunday lunch, laden with treats, licorice and chocolates, root beer barrels and having us over for roast ham, mashed potatoes and sauerkraut, Pennsylvania Dutch style topped with my grandmother’s homemade Shoo-fly pie.

By the end of the Vietnam War, in 1976, military service was no longer mandatory. The armed services needed bodies, so they presented volunteers with a two-year commitment rather than the traditional four-year term. Right out of high school, Donny had enlisted in the Navy and, as we stood there in the hellish heat laboring for my father, my cousin suggested I visit him that evening to see some pictures and tell me some sea stories. I never had considered the military. Fifty-eight thousand dead Americans in the faraway jungles of southeast Asia had soured my generation on a war which was shown nightly on the evening news.

That evening my dad and I had an argument over something trivial that I can’t even remember. But what I do remember is his finger in my face and his enraged look in his eyes. Listen here, kid, you need me. You’re never gonna make it in this world without me. True, I was not academically inclined during high school. I loved the fun things — sports, fast cars and a social life. I was conversant with each strata of high school society: the intellects, where the pretty girls perched; the athletes, the cocky, macho peacocks; the heads, who were the rebels; and the grease monkeys, the mechanics with their souped-up cars.

As an aside, I was voted by my graduating class: Fashion Trendsetter of The Year. I had become used to striding through the school corridors in my letter jacket waving, smiling, exalted like a prince. Now, I was about to become a peon, a nobody, destined to a life sentence of hard labor. And I hadn’t even committed a crime.

I will never have this again. No more fans screaming for me in the gym bleachers exhorting me to victory in my wrestling matches. No more pretty girls giggling shyly at the sight of the young hero in his silk shirt, elephant bell bottoms and platform shoes. No more fawning: There goes Rick Holland, when I roared up in my spiffed up, red, white and blue Plymouth Barracuda, the legendary muscle car.

That bolt of thunder froze me. My father was, I hate to say it, absolutely right. He had molded me in his image and I knew nothing else. He had plunged a dagger in my side. He had piled hopelessness upon hopelessness. I bolted out of the house so I could breathe and sought refuge in my cousin Donny’s exotic basement den, with its Asian wicker chairs, black lights, shells and beads, tropical posters and 70’s hippie accoutrement — the bong. Donny was like a big brother to me. I told Donny about the confrontation with my dad, and he cracked open a couple of Budweisers and said, Let me tell you about my experiences in the Navy. Not only did he regale me with jaw-dropping stories, but he also shared his photo albums of exotic girls from Asia, as if to give his alluring fables some visual proof of what he was saying.

My imagination was spinning and spiraling. I was impressed, wowed, and awed. Until then, I had never thought about traveling or seeing the world. Donny, in a way, recruited me into the Navy, enticing me to flee my small world, my limited reality and, prove to my dad, that I could do something for myself, without him. Donny’s testimonials, those photos, the prospect of an exotic life, the unlimited horizons, all magnified by beer and a bong, electrified my senses and buoyed my flagging spirit. Mostly, though, I had to prove my dad wrong, that I was worthy and capable of succeeding on my own.

First thing the next morning I jumped in my Barracuda and raced to the US Navy Recruiting office in Allentown, a half an hour drive away. An officer showed me some videos, handed me some paperwork, and I had to submit to an aptitude test. Some hours later, I entered a room with a strong official atmosphere, with a huge American flag, and stood in arow with several other young guys behind a bannister. We raised our right hands, swore an oath of allegiance to serve our country and, wham bam, I was enlisted.

In 1978, I did the grueling three-month Navy boot camp in Orlando, Florida. The heat was fierce and the training was challenging, but the military recognized that I had special qualities. I had the build and discipline that came with wrestling, and my superiors appointed me to lead the squad in exercises and drills.At the end of boot camp, we spent another month at A-school, doing technical training that helps you choose the field that you want to work in. I chose aeronautic mechanics. My dad had also been an aviation mechanic in the Air Force during the Korean War, and subconsciously that’s what I gravitated toward. At the end of our training, the leaders gathered us in a large hall to assign us our orders, the destination for our first tour of duty – where we would begin our naval careers. I stood among hundreds of nervous young men, rigid at attention, hands by our sides. There was anticipation, electricity, even some fear in the air, as we all waited for our assignments. My destiny was in the hands of someone else. We had no say in the matter.

While I was waiting for my orders, I imagined myself surfing in California with a gorgeous blonde girlfriend, loving the beach life, sun and fun, American-style. I was startled from my reverie when I heard a sharp voice bark, Recruit Holland, front and center. I stepped forward to receive my order from the Company Commander. You are assigned to the USS Midway in Yokosuka, Japan. My world stopped right there. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it. I knew nothing about Japan, except for the World War II stories that my maternal grandfather had told me about kimonos and pretty songs. Among a hundred or so recruits in our command, I was the only one assigned to Japan. I heard a collective sigh of relief from the other recruits that it wasn’t them. But why me?

I briefly visited Pennsylvania to say goodbye to my family and high school sweetheart. I also cursed my cousin Donny over another round of beers for recommending I join the Navy. While I was home, I asked my grandfather about being stationed in Okinawa as a U.S. Marineright after the war. To my surprise, he remembered the Japanese folk song, Sakura, and sung it by heart. Granddad was a manly, athletic fellow. He had been an Olympic-level hurdler, and was still full of life when he recalled to me how much he had enjoyed Japan. With a wink and a smile, he joked, You might even have some cousins there. Granddad’s folksy manner and fond recollection of a famous folksong offered a glimmer of hope. Maybe Japan wouldn’t be so terrible after all. En route to Japan, I actually got my California wish, even though it was short-lived. I stayed in San Diego to attend aeronautical school. This training prepared me to work on F4 Phantom Fighters, jet fighters which were deployed on the USS Midway aircraft carrier stationed at the US Naval Base in Yokosuka. I stayed in a hotel — living it up. When I wasn’t studying, I regularly went to the beach, found that blonde girlfriend, and fulfilled my California fantasy.

Then the party ended and I had to fly to Japan. I had never been to a foreign country. I arrived at the Yokota Air Force Base, and was picked up by a small Japanese man driving a mini-van. My first impression was that everyone and everything looked small. The roads were narrow and the houses were crammed together, while everything was moving by me hyper-fast.

We drove to from Yokota to Yokosuka Military Base, about half an hour south of Yokohama and a good hour away from Tokyo, at the isolated tip of the Miura peninsula. Inside the base was being back in familiar comfort again. It was like the USA, with big houses and wide streets. All the signs were in English and the food was Western. Yokosuka Military Base had banks, a post office, all kinds of familiar stores and businesses. There was even a barber shop with the spinning red, white and blue stripes. Yet, I had a strong sense of sadness at the disparity, which made me feel unsettled, and gave an eeriness to Yokosuka. The Japanese living in the honcho, the neighborhoods immediately around the base, had to make do with so much less, a standard of living that was not on the same par as what was found on the base. Not knowing anyone nor what they had planned for me, was scary too. Hard work I was used to, but an unpredictable life in a foreign country, I was not. I cried myself to sleep at night feeling terribly homesick for my parents, brothers and sisters.

I was at the bottom of the system, the lowest rank, and almost 7,000 miles away from home. The gossip and rumors, murmured among new recruits were overwhelming for my teenage mind. The stories I heard about what they do and what they could do to us made me anxious and frightened. I heard that on every tour there are a number who die at sea. When an aircraft carrier goes out, working on the flight deck as a plane captain was one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. We actually got paid hazardous duty because the chance of injury or losing a life was so high. There were two dangerous parts to the engine. Jet rocket engines throw off exhaust and if you got too close to the thrust of the plane, it could blow you off the flight deck like a feather. And just as dangerous was the intake, the air that’s taken into the plane that helps thrust the engines. If you were in close range, the thrust could suck you in and you’d perish.

In the beginning, the Navy usually assigns you the lowest, most difficult, humiliating jobs. You clean toilets, haul trash, and run mountains of supplies from airplanes or docks to the depths of the boat. I was thinking, what did I get myself into here? Besides work, there was training in the gym. Wrestling practice happened once a week and, if I was lucky, mail came from home.

The work was back-breaking. Because I was in top physical condition, I was carrying food and supplies into the deep belly of the ship. It was a hellish, grueling job, day and night, that lasted for six months, and one of the most intense, physically-demanding times of my life. I definitely thought about the life I had left. Working my father now seemed like a day in the park.The military is all about obedience and discipline. When they give you an order, any order, including shoot to kill, you must follow that order. If you don’t do as you’re told, your superiors will punish you. The U.S. military machine runs by a reward and punishment system, based on making you feel insignificant or small. Your action or lack of action can impact your comrades’ lives. So, your superiors mold you into robots, ready to obey on command and be combat-ready. The only ray of sunshine was an order to attend a one-week cultural adaptation course. To become familiar with Japanese culture and customs, I was ordered to learn what to do and what not to do. Japanese culture is so different from American culture that the military, to their credit, educated us with this purpose: we were guests here and we didn’t want to insult our hosts. We were taught basic customs, like removing our footwear before entering