When I think of John Baker, I think of a brilliant mind, exceptional candor, a love of the dharma – and an underlying sadness. I touched in and out of John’s life on several occasions. I wasn’t a consistent theme of his life, just someone occasionally touching in and out. The first time I met John was when he was teaching at the Westchester Buddhist Center. I would drive an hour from my home in Connecticut for the Sunday sessions in Irvington, NY. Early on, I was impressed with John’s mind. His command of the dharma, his ability to explain it clearly, and his massive memory for details about the dharma amazed me. And then there was John the person. Not John the dharma teacher. John the person. Just the two of us sharing a scotch, sitting in his living room, shortly after his divorce from Natalie, and John, with sadness and regret in his voice, explaining, with a candor way beyond that of a private person such as myself, why that marriage had failed. Briefly, there was City John. He had moved to New York City after his divorce, and I visited him a couple of times there. He had a Filipino girlfriend at the time. I did, too. He cooked dinner for me. I brought the pumpkin pie. After that, a long interlude. I lived in the Philippines for eight years, and if I saw John during those years, it couldn’t have been more than once or twice. Sometime during that period, he moved from the East Coast to Boulder, Colorado. After I returned to the U.S., I, too, in 2021, moved to Colorado, about two hours south of where John lived. One day, while in meditation, I had an intuitive feeling that John and I would meet again in a future life and that the relationship would be deeper than the touching-in-and-out that had occurred during this lifetime. A fiction created by my mind, or reality? Who knows? But I thought, on the chance that this could be true, why not strengthen the relationship during this lifetime. So on four or five occasions, I made a point of driving the two hours to see John. It was there that John did more than open the door to his house for me. It was there that he opened the door to his life. Sitting in his living room, he and Valerie mentioned the autobiography he was writing about his time with Chogyam Trungpa. They said what was needed was an editor to assist John. I said I had those skills and would be glad to help. They enthusiastically accepted my offer. John sent me an early draft of his book. Inside that book, again, was the extraordinary candor of John Baker. He had been part of the wild ride that was the 1960’s, and his own ride had been so turbulent that he was on a path to self-destruction. Then he met Trungpa who pointed out a different reality. John was hooked. I edited that early draft and again drove to Boulder to deliver it to John. He was pleased. He said that my editorial efforts had far exceeded his expectations. My enthusiasm for the autobiography exceeded John’s. Not long afterward, he dropped the project and went on to something else – as I remember, transcribing the lectures of some rinpoche. I had so wanted that book to get published. John was there from nearly the beginning. He was with Trungpa at Karme Choling in Vermont. He was with Trungpa in Boulder. He (and Marvin Casper) edited two of Trungpa’s books. He was the one who approached Trungpa with the idea of starting a Buddhist university, which became Naropa University. He had lived in the same house as Trungpa. He had traveled with Trungpa. At one point, John had married the sister of Trungpa’s wife. And John was a good storyteller. There was so much I thought he could have explained. I had never met Trungpa. He had. When it came to Trungpa, there was much that I wrestled with: Trungpa’s wonderfulness. His strangeness. His brilliance. His incoherence. His contradictions. The latter portion of the draft of John’s autobiography, entitled “The Descent,” had drifted into fragments, notes for further writing. As far as I know, John never completed that portion and never completed the autobiography. I suspect that there was too much pain in The Descent for John to feel motivated to complete it. Some of that pain was caused by Trungpa, who, on occasion, treated John poorly, shamefully. John would not have put it that way, but I do. Hanging on the wall in John’s Boulder living room was a large calligraphy by Trungpa that, as I remember, was a symbol of or had in Tibetan the meaning of, “Go!” Trungpa had created this after he had pushed John out of the Vajradhatu-Naropa nest. John, indeed, did “Go!”: it was then that he and his father created a successful travel company. For all his brilliance of mind and command of the dharma, I never felt that John Baker fully appreciated his contribution to the world. I tried telling him that I found his accomplishments to be stunning. He (along with Marvin Casper) had edited two seminal dharma books: Cutting through Spiritual Materialism and The Myth of Freedom have sold hundreds of thousands of copies and directly or indirectly have affected perhaps millions of lives. The creation of a university is an extraordinary accomplishment for anyone, as is John’s role in creating Naropa University. John’s tireless teaching of the dharma and his compassionate coaching have touched hundreds of lives. Sensing some inner sadness on John’s part, I wanted John to feel good, maybe feel pride, about his contributions to the dharma and to all of us. Something seemed to hold him back from accepting that. Perhaps it was fears of falling into the trap of spiritual materialism himself. Perhaps it was the weight of regrets. Perhaps it was his sadness over the vast sea of samsara that continues to delude humankind. The title of John’s autobiography was to have been Last Night’s Dream. He explained to me once why he chose the title. The explanation ran for about ten minutes. There were multiple references to dharma teachings and dharma masters. I didn’t take notes. I wish I had. There was so much that it all became a blur. But faintly, whether accurately or not, I remember John saying something about Last Night’s Dream being published after his death, in which case Last Night’s Dream would refer the incarnation that for John had just passed. Whether we meet in a future life or not, John, I give thanks for the gifts you gave us in this life. May the peace of the Buddha be with you. May the light of the Buddha be with you. May the wisdom of the Buddha be with you. May the warmth and love of buddha-nature be with you, now and forever.