The Ridge Runner

By Samuel Sharp

This book is about how to overcome major obstacles in your life. Your spiritual basis and the connection to that which powers the universe lies in the perception of your true spiritual self. That power is in each of us and available but well camouflaged by a myriad of unimportant and often wasteful thoughts and feelings. Finding your spiritual self will reset the ego generated mind and provide space for growth no matter what your age, status or physical condition.
The Ridge Runner starts out as a narrative story depicting the turmoil experienced by the Author growing up and shows how this dysfunction created difficulties that were meant to last a lifetime. In two near death experiences that occurred fifty years apart, the author was awakened to find release from the seemingly insurmountable and grave emotional damage that had been done.
The Ridge Runner explores the basic difficulties inherent to the “dark side” of hillbilly superstition, religious beliefs and addictions that established the boundaries to contain the shame, guilt and need to escape the reality that he experienced. It describes the long term effects of old ideas that prevented him from moving from the edge of insanity to become a more loving and responsible person.
This journey liberates you from a world governed by logic, speed and cleverness where most act on the basis of their past and in anticipation of the next event. The false self has been infused with some of the power of our being and exists as a separate entity but inaccessible to our normal conscious awareness. This false self which he calls the ego is well hidden and protected by layers of repetitious dialogues and narratives and having access to the emotions, it will use every ploy to defend its position and survival. As we become aware that much of our early indoctrination was based on false teachings designed to enslave and perpetuate a system governed by fear, we experience the full wrath of the false self in physical as well as emotional upheaval. But this does not last and nothing that is based on your real self, or the good in you will be lost as that power will be transformed back into your real self. This transformation brings freedom to choose the path governed partly by your genetic make-up and by the drive to grow and evolve from the suffering inherent to the ego-based sense of self.
In meditation we are able to find a time before the ego had become dominant. With an awareness of the present moment, we move between the two seemingly different worlds and find that the false self will begin to fade. The Ridge Runner provides guidance into the factors that corrupt our own natural being and allows us to define a new and more powerful vision of ourselves. Sharp uses his own illustrations to describe the situations he experienced.

About the Author
Samuel Sharp is a Registered Professional Engineer and has authored many technical papers, in addition to his previous book, Next Step: The Universe. Sharp has two wonderful daughters who are doctors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887296746

Book preview

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023­ by Samuel Sharp

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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EISBN: 979-8-88729-674-6

Chapter One

The Chase

My story begins with me looking out the rear window of a ’52 Buick, speeding down a narrow road on a rainy night in Eastern Tennessee. Mom is driving and Dad is barking out orders for her to go faster and for me to sit down. But I can’t see anything if I’m sitting down. The police are chasing us. I can see their flashing red lights about a mile back. We’re carrying a load of whiskey. I’m about three years old. Their energized feelings draw me into the excitement.

A misty rain is coming down and fogging up the windshield. Mom has moved forward till her face is almost touching the windshield as she struggles to see the road. Up ahead there is a one-lane bridge that we are rapidly approaching. It looks like the police are gaining on us and just when things are looking uncertain, a truck starts to get on the bridge from the other side. Stand on it! shouted Dad as Mom slammed the gas pedal to the floorboard. For a moment we froze, and things looked bad.

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Then at the last moment, the truck pulled partly to the side as it had gotten the message that we were coming through. We sped across the bridge. In these parts of the country, people often played chicken to see who went first on a single-lane bridge. The truck must have seen the cops that were now less than a half mile away and lumbered onto the bridge. People in these parts helped each other out when the law was involved.

After a long time and lots of evasive maneuvers, we pulled into the Sweetwater Motel. My Aunt Lee, Uncle Dick, and cousin Randy met us at the motel. Sweetwater Tennessee was in Monroe County, which was dry, meaning no alcohol could be sold there. Randy was four years older than me and explained that we were hiding out for the night.

Afterward the adults broke out the booze and started smoking cigarettes. They joked about the narrow escape. But their joy was for adults and not for Randy and me to share. We went outside and found a spot to watch the Sweetwater drive-in movie, without sound. The drive-in was situated directly behind the motel.

These were the good times.

Sweetwater, Tennessee

Daddy makes a living bootlegging whiskey from wet counties to dry counties. Sometimes he carries white lightning. Having wet and dry counties in Tennessee provides employment opportunities for people tired of their mundane jobs and who like the excitement, risk, and reward of illegal activities. Dad wrecks a lot of cars and generally has a new car once a month. NASCAR grew out of the activities of these hillbilly bootleggers. With the police chasing them all the time, they were constantly upgrading their vehicles. That was one of the perks of that kind of work. Movies like Thunder Road described Dad. Having a fast car and beating the system was dangerous but exciting and lot’s more fun than shoveling cow shit in the barn. Carrying a firearm and proficiency with weapons was a necessary part of this lifestyle.

Dad’s family had moved to Sweetwater in the late 1800s from Ohio. They had owned several houses in town and rented out to locals and to people traveling off the interstate. My grandfather, Ozzie, had built a huge antebellum home near the center of town and owned enough at one time to secure a prominent and secure future, but drank it all away.

About 470 people lived in town. The surrounding area was predominately agricultural and 40-acre homesites dotted the countryside.

Sweetwater had a chenille plant that employed a few dozen people. The chenille plant was a filthy, steam-and-sweat-filled warehouse filled with giant vats of hot dye and looms to make chenille rugs. The moment you entered the factory, the fluff from the rugs would get in your nose and stay there. Located on Sweetwater Creek, all the oil, grease, dye, and trash was dumped into the creek and flowed conveniently away from the factory.

My uncle Jim worked at the Chenille plant.

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Mom and Dad would rather shoot it out with the cops as opposed to doing anything like that for a living.

The rest of the economy was based on selling gasoline to motorists traveling north or south on what became I-75. For some reason a portion of I-75 was not completed for many years, forcing everyone to detour through Sweetwater before continuing their trip. Sweetwater was a town of gas filling stations. Most everyone else farmed and hunted to make a living.

As poor as these people were, they would give you the shirt off their back if you asked for it. The poverty and lack of opportunity forced most people to either leave for the city or find some means of making money on the side. In a small poverty-stricken town like Sweetwater, money could get you just about anything.

Sweetwater, like most towns in those parts, was solidly Baptist. Catholics were viewed like foreigners and with suspicion. I never met a Jew but read about them in the Bible and heard about them in Sunday school. We didn’t talk about Jews, which meant that they were not liked or to be avoided. I got the impression that they lived in some other country. Jesus Christ was a Jew, which seemed like a problem to me, but it wasn’t discussed. We all felt that he was a good Baptist at heart.

The Needed Killing Defense

Small-town Tennessee had what amounted to a needed killing defense.

About once a month someone got killed and the sheriff would go out and talk to the farmer. What happened to this guy? the sheriff would ask.

Well, he was coming around and doing my daughter wrong, replies the farmer.

After a long sigh, the sheriff might say, Well, I guess he needed killing. If the murdered man didn’t have much money or the newspapers didn’t report it, case closed.

The Indoctrination – Through the Eyes of a Child

The Baptists combined Bible teachings, with fear of the devil and superstition. Questioning any of the incredible stories that were taught as the gospel was strictly forbidden and would get you ostracized and nasty things said about you.

The stories went something like this. God created the entire human race from two people, using incest and inbreeding.

God had a terrible temper and was often upset.

Not taking responsibility for his creation, his acute form of obsessive-compulsive disorder drove him to kill what he claimed that he loved. On one occasion he committed mass genocide with a huge flood that covered the earth. He murdered everyone including the animals, except