I met Charles in the January 1992 on a farm outside of Monee, IL, at the very first Holotropic Breathwork day-long workshop he attended.
He seemed a little out of his element. I felt called to extend myself to this quiet gentle man — we became partners for the day. I felt an immediate connection to this (very) bearded man who had just returned from a decade (or longer?) in very remote Alaska. On the one hand, he was introverted… thoughtful, gentle, kind, considerate, warmhearted. But he also had another side, occasionally-extraverted, courageous, willing to try anything. At times, he’d bust out and shake things up with unexpected mischievous antics. We became fast friends.
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.
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!
WOW, my ennui transformed into exhaltation — I was free from my job for at least the rest of that day!
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.
I was taken by Charles. I was 25 during a pivotal time in my life. I was having similar connection experiences with other special souls I was meeting through the breathwork retreats. We all began to meet up with drums and a volleyball net at a park. We did, and it was such a special group and we had so much fun that we decided to meet again, two weeks later. It soon became a recurring event. Also, it was 1992, the Bulls had won their first championship and were pursuing their second. If there was a Bulls playoff game on one of our volleyball/drumming days, we’d gather at our friend Dirk’s house to watch (Charles included). That wonder-filled group of people eventually became the Barking Dog Drumming Circle, which lasted for years.
Then I moved to the West Coast, to Portland, OR. I was sad to leave behind Charles and that beautiful group of friends.
The next major impact Charles had on me happened a year or so after my relocation. One day, out of the blue, I received a surprise package in the mail. It was a mixed cassette tape from Charles — a compilation of his favorite songs of a new artist he had discovered… Loreena McKennitt! He thought I might like her. Damn was he ever right! That cassette became a backdrop soundtrack for my early years on the West Coast. Loreena McKennitt instantly became one of my all-time favorite artists. I’ve been involved in a love affair with her music ever since. Dear, generous, kindhearted, intuitive Charles!
In 1995 I returned to the Chicago area for the summer with my son Kyle, who was then 8. While there, Charles invited us down for a spelunking visit! It was a once-in-a-lifetime day for both Kyle and I (see picture above).
Throughout the 90s. Charles would come through first Portland, then Seattle, to visit me on his way back from trips to his property in Alaska. We also stayed in contact with semi-regular phone calls. We’d talk about the latest Loreena album, and the continuation of our inner journeys which we had begun sharing through the breathwork. We’d talk about our creative process and who was our latest muse. We had an intuitive knack for calling each other in timely, apropos moments.
Our calls became less common as the years progressed. Yet I’ve always carried Charles in my heart with a deep fondness. Over the last decade, as I’ve spent more time in the midwest, due to my mother’s Alzheimer’s, I began to try and look Charles up on the internet, to find a phone number and reconnect, but I wasn’t successful.
In 2019, I returned to live again in the Chicago area as my mother’s dementia had deteriorated to the point where she couldn’t live alone anymore. This time, I was determined to find out where was Charles. Somehow I was able to track down Charles’ ex-wife Lorie, from whom I found out about Charles’ decline.
I’m sad that I wasn’t able to come down and visit Charles, but between covid and being caught up with the declining health of my mother, I’ve been in my own bubble. My mother Eileen just passed, 6 weeks ago, on Nov. 22. Hearing all about Charles’ final months has reminded me so much of my own experiences with her.
My heart is with everyone that is also grieving the memory of the lovely soul that was Charles Sprague. He will certainly live on in my heart.
Namaste.
And btw, I posted that mixed Loreena McKennitt tape that Charles sent me back in the day, as a Spotify playlist, which you can check out here, if you like…
You can also go directly to it in Spotify here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6xm8PkTtKGLsNb2zawhrHo?si=f16da0970c9a4806