If I had had the finances, I would have taken a trip to the upper reaches of Nepal to find the answers. But in an effort to find inner peace on the cheap, I recently scaled Mount Diablo instead. I started at the base of the paid parking lot last Thursday at 2:00 and reached the summit last Thursday at 2:15. When I got to the top, I found a wise Asian man in his 70s sitting beneath a tree.

I introduced myself to him and he instantly knew what I was there for. "You're seeking answers," he said. "But I've got to be up front with you," he said. "I'm not in the enlightenment business anymore. It's unprofitable. I studied among the best Zen Masters of all of Tibet and half of Marin County, but now I'm here for financial planning. When Bernanke announced a pessimistic forecast for this fiscal year, I traded in my flute and my walking stick for this Dell Inspiron laptop with Windows XP. The Wi-Fi actually isn't that bad up here. At daybreak, I can look out into the San Ramon Valley, turn on my computer, balance my portfolio, and watch the markets move. Last time I checked, the S&P was twelve points off in afternoon trading. It's reacting to yesterday's market correction in Shanghai. But that's not why you're here - I can tell that you're here for some kind of higher purpose. But, listen man, I shaved off my goatee and hung up that hat. I had to euthanize the birds that once perched themselves on my shoulders. Times are tough."

He paused, but then went on --

"But you look like an all-right guy and I appreciate your effort of walking up here. Let me give you someone's card. It belongs to Father Bob Nastanovich of Our Lady of Perpetual Good Times. No relation. He's down the hill in Walnut Creek. A solid guy. It's funny - he got kicked out of divinity school for selling drugs. Fortunately, someone out there didn't demand credentials and decided to give him a job. It didn't hurt that Bob was well connected, though. When in Italy, he has power lunches with higher-ups in the Vatican. Anyway, good luck."

And with that, I descended from Mount Diablo and caught a County Connection bus back into the city. I stopped at the Chipotle in downtown Walnut Creek, ate a tostada, and then placed a call with the priest. He told me that he was free and gave me directions to his church.

I met the priest in his dimly lit office, where he was sitting behind a desk. There wasn't much in the way of introductions or chit-chat. He wanted to get down to business. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "What's your thing?"

Perhaps it was the power of the moment or perhaps it was his position of authority, but I felt that I could confide in the man. I spoke somewhat softly. "Thanks for meeting me," I said. "I suppose I'm here because I haven't found closure on my Saturn Returns, if you will," I said. "I work in fund-raising for a national nonprofit land conservation organization, but I also feel like I should be doing something that's more creative. I'm playing bass guitar in a band. We're practicing in a garage on Potrero Hill. We've played a few shows, mainly for friends, but I think it's a start."

I detected a grimace on his face, but I continued --

"My real problem, however, has to do with my love life. I just turned thirty recently and I'm starting to think about a future within a family. The problem is, I haven't had an official long-term relationship with a woman in a very long time. There is, however, a woman that I talk to at the dog park most evenings. I think it's a start. I'm feeling enormous pressure to make something happen. The anxiety is stifling any opportunities that I may have. So I'm turning to religion and spirituality for some sort of guidance in my life."

The priest gave me a cold stare.

"Well," he said. "First off -- an all knowing God is aware of your shitty band and every shitty band in the Bay Area. There are hundreds of them. You may not have to listen to all of them, but God does. This creative pursuit that you're talking about will go nowhere. If you want to do anything with your life, put away childish things and get practical. God wants all of his children to observe Lent and have a good grasp of Microsoft Office Suite. Judging by what you're telling me, you probably have some command of MS Word and MS Excel. God must be somewhat pleased with you, so you should be somewhat pleased with yourself. Don't freak out, dude.

"Secondly," he said, "please don't get me started about women at dog parks. People who take their dogs to dog parks are usually single and desperate. Trust me, I was one of them. I made a big occupational no-no with one woman from a dog park. And let me tell you, I should have reviewed the Roman Catholic Church's Human Resources Policy Manual, because this girl was a huge mistake. Let me tell you something. Listen to me. A woman carrying a bag of dog shit exemplifies warmth, courtesy and social responsibility so well that you're bound to overlook the dog shit in her hands."

He looked away briefly and then spoke again.

"We were together for ten months and she left me for a civil engineer with a golden retriever. She broke my heart. I saw her with that man all of the time. And do you know what was worse than their public displays of affection?" he asked.

"It was their private displays of affection," he said.


The priest and I were silent until he looked at his watch. "Holy shit," he said. "It's five o'clock and I need to get the hell out of here. My shift is over. Here's my card. Are we done here, or can we do this over e-mail? I've got a six o'clock date that I need to find on Capp Street. Tonight we're seeing a film in the Tenderloin. It's about people who fuck each other."

And so, as he was getting into his sports car, I thanked him and told him that he was helpful. Heading back toward BART, I stopped into Target to buy soap and fabric softener. The checker put my merchandise into a plastic bag with plastic handles. Upon leaving the store, I was asked to open my bag and present my receipt, but I passed the test much like everyone else. It felt like a minor moral accomplishment, making me feel a little bit better about how I spent my day.