Farewell, Charles: Remembering a Gentle Soul and a Life-Changing Friendship

Published: January 4, 2022
by Glenn

The Day We Met

I met Charles in January of 1992, on a small farm outside Monee, Illinois.
It was his very first Holotropic Breathwork day-long workshop—and from the moment I saw him, something in me wanted to reach out.

He seemed a little out of his element, this quiet, gentle man with the full beard and soft eyes. But once we partnered up, I discovered the two sides of Charles: deeply thoughtful and kindhearted, yet also mischievous and unexpectedly bold. Beneath the gentle exterior was a spark of courage that could light up a room. We became fast friends that day.

A Weekend With Stan Grof That Changed Everything

One of my strongest memories of Charles during that first year happened when we both attended a 4-day retreat that took place at the Congress Hotel on Michigan Ave. in downtown Chicago in late March of 1992. The founder of Holotropic Breathwork, Dr. Stan Grof, made his first and only appearance in Chicago that year. It was a potent and meaningful workshop… I think many if not most of us who attended that special weekend felt it was a pivotal and life-changing experience. I sure did. I was opening a doorway into a new level of intimacy with myself and in my connections with fellow seekers of meaning on the journey of life.

The Chicago Flood—and a Cosmic Coincidence

At the end of those four days, I returned to my humdrum job on the 42nd floor of an office building two blocks up the street from the Congress hotel. At that red hot moment in my life, after the life-changing experience of the retreat, I was feeling a deep, disheartening feeling of ennui and disconnection from much if not most of my daily life. I’ll never forget those first few hours of the day… I could barely focus on my work. I yearned to go back and re-experience the meaning and depth of connection we had all experienced over the long weekend.

Then, three things happened which changed everything for me. First, an hour or so into my work day, the song “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison came on the radio, and it washed over me and was a balm for my soul. It was a breath of reassurance and hopefulness for the future. Then, a few minutes later, a buzz started among my coworkers… something had happened… Somehow the Chicago River had leaked into the underground tunnels beneath the city and started to flood them. For the first and only time I can ever remember, all of downtown Chicago had to be evacuated!

Suddenly, my spiritual hangover transformed into exhilaration. I was free for the day—and the first person I wanted to call was Charles.

“Glenn? I’m So Glad It’s You.”

Immediately upon leaving the building I felt a deep yearning to find a payphone and call my new friend Charles… I felt a deep need to validate the powerful experience of the retreat, and to share my experience of the Chicago Flood with him. I dialed his number and hoped he was available. The phone rang. And rang. And then clicked into the answering machine. Ugh, I felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t picked up. I began to leave a message.

Suddenly, Charles’ live voice came through the receiver, “Hello, Glenn?” He was there! He said something to the paraphrased effect of: “OMG, Glenn! I have been sitting here all morning basking in the glow of the weekend feeling unable to do much else. There was no way I was ready to pick up the phone and deal with reality. Then I heard your voice on the recorder! I’m so happy it’s you and I’d love to connect with you today!”

It gives me goosebumps to recall that moment in detail. My day was saved, by Van Morrison, the Chicago Flood, and by Charles! We met up later for dinner, and from that day forward, I felt permanently bonded to him.

The Birth of a Tribe

That same year, 1992, was bursting with life. The Bulls were on their second championship run, and a group of us from the breathwork community began meeting at a park to drum and play volleyball.

Charles was always there—steady, soulful, occasionally hilarious. Those gatherings eventually became known as the Barking Dog Drumming Circle, and it lasted for years.

When I moved west to Portland, I was very sad to leave behind that circle of friends—and Charles.

A Gift from the Heart

A year or so later, a package arrived in the mail. Inside was a handwritten note and a mixed cassette tape. Charles had discovered a new artist—Loreena McKennitt—and wanted to share her music with me.

He wrote that he thought I’d love her. He was right.
That tape became the soundtrack to my early years in the Pacific Northwest, not to mention the rest of my life!

To this day, whenever I hear Loreena’s voice, I think of Charles—his intuition, his generosity, his attunement to beauty.

Through the Years

Over the years, Charles would occasionally stop through Portland or Seattle on his travels to and from Alaska. We’d talk for hours about music, creativity, and our inner journeys.

Sometimes months would pass without contact, but when the phone rang and it was Charles, it always felt perfectly timed—like he’d somehow sensed I needed that call.

Eventually, time and distance stretched between us. But the thread never broke.

Searching for Charles

In the 2010s, as my mother’s Alzheimer’s drew me back to the Midwest, I tried to find him. The internet offered no help.

When I finally tracked down his ex-wife in 2019, she told me about his decline. I wanted to visit, but life—COVID, my mother’s failing health—kept me tethered.

Now, as I grieve both my mother’s passing and Charles’s, I realize how intertwined their final years feel in my heart.

The Spirit Lives On

Charles Sprague was one of the most gentle and generous souls I’ve ever known. He reminded me that connection is sacred, that friendship can be a spiritual path, and that the simplest gestures—like sending a cassette in the mail—can ripple across a lifetime.

He will always live in my heart.

Namaste, my friend.

Listen: The Music That Connected Us

I’ve recreated the Loreena McKennitt mixtape Charles sent me all those years ago as a Spotify playlist

And btw, I’ve recreated that Loreena McKennitt mixtape that Charles sent me all those years ago as a spotify playlist, which you can check out here, if you like…