Chapter 2


Never have the

thoughts of the world

been yours.

They are illusion.


so is your unhappiness.

Fagan’s Beach, Molokai

August 30, 1987


Awakening suddenly, I realize it is quite early. There isn’t a trace of daylight. I am half dressed before recognizing a feeling, a sense of urgency that compels me to be up, dressed, and out the door. Surely urgency is laughable here on this most quiet – and Hawaiian – of islands, where it seems that nothing has ever been urgent at all.


I drive along the narrow, quiet road as it curves and winds its way along the coastline, passing tropical farms which grow farther and farther apart, until there are no more. My mind starts racing: “Why am I out here? Just where do I think I am going?” It is a road I have traveled only once before – in daylight – when I visited Halawa Valley, where the oldest archaeological remains of Hawaii’s ancient inhabitants lie obscured, reclaimed by dense and lush tropical jungle. It is a road which becomes narrower and narrower, with hairpins, twists and turns. And here there are no streetlights to guide me.


A subtle change in light occurs as day begins to hint at its arrival. Suddenly I slam on the brakes and come to a stop. Quickly backing up, I can now see a small, overgrown farm road. It appears to slope down some fifty feet to a gate. With a continuing sense of urgency, I am out of the car and over the fence in the blink of an eye.


Plunging into the dense grasses towering three feet over my head, I veer to my left for no reason other than it feels right. Finally I break through into low, sparse foliage, quickening my pace, the urgency compelling me from within.


There is just enough light to turn the world around me into faint shadows. I am running now, until I come to a knoll of large, volcanic boulders. Scurrying to the top, I hear the surf somewhere below me. My heart is racing. I am excited, though I haven’t any idea where I am, or why.


It occurs to me to sit in meditation, enveloped by soft breezes whose touch easily quiets my body, mind, and breath, until there is only crystalline awareness, sublime well-being.


I now feel a subtle, growing warmth as the rising sun begins to caress my body. Slowly opening my eyes, I explode in a joyous laughter. It is so beautiful here! The boulder which supports me is on the top of a knoll just to one end of a small, horseshoe-like cove, and I face out across the channel to Maui, watching now as the sun rises like a fiery god into a lightly clouded sky. It is the most natural of responses to simply give thanks. Though my eyes are open, that now familiar feeling begins. I see that golden Light, then hear a familiar Voice.


            Now, we begin.


            It is in seeking for,

            and asking for,

            That which is the highest,

            within you and without you,

            that one comes, therefore, to the highest.


            Beloved Son,

            you who would journey so long

            without Me,

            know that you indeed have come home again.


            I am That I AM.

            Never have you been without Me,

            for your worlds are but

            a moment of illusion.


            I would speak with you

            at this most glorious time

            of That which alone is Real.


            I would speak with you

            of That which alone is Life.

            I would speak with you

            of That which alone can enable the voyager

            of a thousand worlds to come home again.


            Beloved Son,

            what is Real, I AM.

            what is unreal exists not.

            I am the Light and the Life of all.

            My radiance knows no boundary,

            My purity is not tainted.


            In that beginningless beginning,

            I brought you forth as the thought

            of perfect Love in form.

            That alone is what you are.


            The earth is My body.

            Embrace it,

            for it will teach you of Me.

            The world is your illusion.

            It can teach you nothing,

            for what is not Real contains

            no knowledge of Me.


            Beloved Son,

            your soul is My breath.

            When first I created you,

            already were you complete. 

            Never have you deviated from

            That which I created you to be.


            You are My delight,

            and in you know I that which I AM.


            Your only thought has been one;

            Separation from Me.

            Upon this rests the creation

            of millennia of illusions.

            The worlds you have experienced,

            the fears, the doubts,

            the striving, the achievements,

            all you have ever imagined

            you ever have been or done,

            and all you can never imagine

            you ever could be and do,

            is but a moment’s imagination.

            All rests on that one thought.


            This I give you as

            the Way of Life: 

            releasing this thought

            brings forth into recognition

            what alone is Real.


            No striving brings

            the Son to the Father.


            No prayer and supplication

            can achieve it,

            for these things reside in the world of

            your creations,

            and thus have nothing

            of Reality in them.


            Your journey is not.

            Always you rest in Me,

            always you abide in Me.

            What alone is Real

            resides within you

            as your very soul.

            It is your heart,

            and can be truly known.

            Silence is the threshold of this wisdom divine.


            Often I will come to you,

            often I will speak to you,

            for you have wearied of your journey.

            Now, you are home with Me.


            I repeat,

            for those who will choose to hear

            what is now given forth:

            the Way is easy,

            and without effort.


            For that which comes of effort

            is of your world,

            and not of Me.


            I am known only

            when you choose to surrender

            in fullness

            the one thought you have ever entertained,

            for upon it

            rests the arising of all worlds.

            I alone am the end of the world.


            Herein lies the peace

            that passes all understanding.




The light fades. I sit in stillness for a long, long time. My world has completely stopped.


I rise slowly and walk down to the beach, feeling the warm sand beneath my feet, watching the sunlight dance like sparkling diamonds across the surface of gentle waves. Undressing, I walk into the surf, soothed and held by tropical waters. And now the tears begin. There is no resistance in me. Tears flow freely as I stand waste deep in the ocean.


I am speechless, thoughtless. There seems to be only the feeling of the waves lapping against my stomach, and a waterfall of my tears running down over my cheeks, onto my chest.


Coming out of the water, I feel as if all my energy is gone. Collapsing in the sand, I fall into a deep sleep.



“The captain has turned off the seatbelt light.”


The voice of an unseen stewardess jars me from a brief nap. Turning my head, I peer out of the window, watching for a moment as Hawaii disappears behind me, coming to rest, no doubt, in a tiny treasure chest somewhere in my brain labeled “Fondest Memories.”


Opening my carry-on, I pull out the steno pad, flip back the cover, and read the communication

received at Fagan’s Beach.


  Your only thought has been one:

            Separation from Me.

            Upon this rests the creation

            of millennia of illusions.


Images suddenly begin to cascade through my mind. Indians and cavalry; skyscrapers and traffic jams; hundreds of Moslems bowing toward Mecca; a priest giving a confession; an Indian holy man, his body smeared in ashes; the face of a man behind bars; the chaos of the stock market; a newlywed couple whose eyes express the hope that their excitement will last forever; an old woman as she takes her last breath…


I turn my head toward the window and straighten my body to stop the onrush of images that come not one after the other, but seemingly all at once.


Can it be so simple? And just how do I release this one thought so strongly believed in – if I am to accept what Jeshua says – for “millennia”? How do I accept that what I have believed, perhaps unconsciously, is the foundation of an illusory world that everyone else seems to believe in too?


Putting the steno pad back into its place – tucked into the bottom of my bag somewhere beneath my socks and underwear – I rest my head back into the seat, pressing the button located just inside the armrest in order to drop it back as far as possible, and deliberately turn my attention to the movie, wishing I had paid my six bucks for the headphones.




September 3, 1987


The experience on Molokai already seems far removed. I have not re-read the dictation received there since the trip home. It is stuffed into a drawer, as though a part of me is hoping the old adage is right: out of sight, out of mind.


What is this resistance, this fear, all about? Am I making up this whole experience with Jeshua? Would I ever want to make it up? Memories of evenings that seem lifetimes ago float into my conscious mind – memories of having a few beers after work, playing pool, and discussing the upcoming Superbowl game – memories of a reality that feels rather attractive just now. If only I had not taken that philosophy class eighteen years ago – that’s it! It jarred my ideas. I began to question the most obvious “facts” of life. I should have taken accounting or something and maybe this wouldn’t be happening. I would have a nice, safe job somewhere, and my evenings would not be consumed by this struggle between avoiding the experience I am having and being compelled to understand it.


Why couldn’t Jeshua at least say something that makes sense? How about some winning lottery numbers? What I hear rings with the clarity of certain truth – while I hear him, but nothing of my experience in the day-to-day world seems to mesh with it. It is not just another slant on reality; it is a whole new Reality altogether.


The inner debate spins on through my mind, without reconciliation, until the very failure of my intellect to grasp it, to pin it down in the neat boxes of logic it worships, forces me to simply shut up. Then it begins again. The sense of warmth that grows from within, the vibrational change, and finally, the Voice:


            Now, we begin.


            Abide with Me yet a little while.

            I wish to communicate with you now,

            before you leave for your office.

            Are you willing to join with Me now?


“Yes,” I mutter beneath my breath. I’m sure I’ve already lost what little sanity I had so why not?


  Then take up pad and pen,

            for I will share with you

            that which is Life,


            and that which alone is Real.

            I am Jeshua,

            and I hear you call.

            Long have I been with you,


            Since before your Lemuria

            am I with you.

            There is naught that will be hidden from you

            in this life,

            for you are coming home to the Father.


            Would you not abide in peace now?

            I do not speak of a moment’s respite

            before continuing your journey.

            I speak only of the final peace

            that knows no contradiction,

            nor any contrast.


            It is the peace

that abides in the Father,

given freely to His Son

since first was created

the thought of Separation.

I behold your thought,

and accurate it is,

no matter how incredible

you insists it seems.

For in the Father, illusion is not.

There is no separation,

for there is not the thought of it.


What I teach,

others teach.

Many are the teachers,

one is the teaching.


Your clinging to those

last threads of your separation

is the dissatisfaction you feel.

Even now,

you are keenly aware of this.

The world has lost its savor for you,

for you have transcended the world.

Abide in us, Marc.

The world in all its teachings

knows nothing of us,

the holy union of 

father and son.

Few there are who would truly

relinquish their dreams.


I have spoken to you that through you

I choose to give my final message

to the Son remaining

in illusion.

And so it shall be.

The time comes quickly now,

for you are come unto the Father’s presence.


Blessed are the children of Light.


yet unaware.

Only in the end of all journeying

is the blessing recognized.


And the blessing of the Father

resides in this:

the Son has never truly suffered,

never truly journeyed forth.

No pain has been overcome.

No effort has been expended.

When this is recognized,

there is found the end of the world,

which is always illusion,

no matter the form.


The world may be of pain,

the world may be of what many call joy,

yet beyond these is the Truth

of the Real.

It is the abode of the Father,

and this the Son has never departed.

This is the highest Truth capable of expression.

This you come to now.


Despair not,

for I am with you.

Allow the dissolving

of your dreams.

What you are the Father

has created you to be,

and in this is your true joy.


This day,

allow yourself to perceive

all you experience as the ending of your illusion:

the birth of Life.


Soon I will come forth with

instructions for you.

Follow them,

for now is the time upon the earth.

Many are nearly ready

to hear the Word,

and awaken from illusion.


Go now in peace.

I love you greatly,

for Love I AM.




It is an hour later. How am I supposed to view being stuck in this traffic jam – as “the end of my illusion”? I think to myself: “Just let it go, let the judgment of this moment go.” My mind is suddenly serene, like a mountain lake without a trace of windblown ripples.


I begin to laugh as an image comes to mind. Zen Buddhist monks rise before dawn and go to the zendo, or meditation hall, to “just sit,” perfecting the ability to simply be present. So what is a traffic jam, anyway?  An agitation that prevents us from getting to where we think we must be? Or is it, perhaps, a zendo?


For a moment, I am a Zen Buddhist monk, but only for a fleeting moment.




September 9, 1987


            Now we begin.


            Marc, hear Me well.

            For even as you have come unto Me,

            so I come now unto you.

            As I have spoken,

            there comes forth instruction unto you

            who has asked for the end of illusion.

            Follow this and,


            there will come the dawning

            of what you have longed to remember.


            Rest now but a moment,

            and close your eyes that would show you

            but the world of your illusion,

            and in this rest I will come unto you,

            and My presence will be as a healing unto you.

            Rest now…


(What transpired I have never been able to put into words. It was as though all of me was melting into light. I have never felt such utter peace.)


            And now the end of sorrow is upon us.

            I will go out no more from the Father’s holy place.

            Indeed, I have overcome the world.

            It is not to think that the task is completed,

            for the only task is the salvation of the world.

            This we do together,

            until the sons of God

            recognize themselves as but the only begotten:



            Herein lies peace.





September 25, 1987


Dissatisfaction. I am feeling it again. I do not suppose that it is an experience known only by me. Is it my job? That must be it. In an instant my mind sees many aspects of my current job that could be the cause of this feeling. They range from not paying enough money to requiring too many hours. On the other hand, it does have its good points, such as paying the bills.


Maybe it’s my current relationship. That must be it. It’s great in so many ways, but…


There is something I am supposed to be doing with my life, but I do not know what it is. Maybe this is it, just what I’m doing. If it is, why doesn’t it feel that way? Why do I do what I do? Why do I feel what I feel? God, sometimes I feel like Barbra Streisand singing, “What’s it all about, Alfie?”


Oh, what the heck. Here I am, after all. I cannot pinpoint what the dissatisfaction is about, but it is certainly there. Get busy. Just get to work and don’t think about it. Good idea. Maybe tonight I’ll rent a movie, have a glass or two of wine.




Evening now. Wine poured, but not yet tasted. For some reason, I hesitate to slip the video into the VRC. I drop down on the couch and just sit.


“Damn,” I think to myself. I am feeling it begins to happen again. I realize I have noticed it virtually at its inception. As that feeling grows, I leap up and scurry to find pad and pen. I may as well resign myself to receiving this communication. Maybe I am going crazy, or maybe I’ve already done so, in which case there can be no further harm by being ready…


   Now, we begin.


            First, it is for you to understand

            that in virtually every instance

            of your unhappiness,

            there is found what we shall call

            a dependence on the

            illusion of circumstance.

            Contemplate this for a moment,

            and I believe you will easily come

            to see the truth of this.



            That took but a moment,

            did it not?

            You well recognize

            that in those moments prior to

            the arising of feelings you

            choose to label as ‘unhappiness’

            there is first the subtle thought

            of circumstance.

            What is circumstance, Marc?


“Well, I guess it is a place, an environment of sorts.”


            A place. That is good.


            come into your understanding to that

            which always exists

            prior to circumstance.

            What will be discovered here is thought.

            Your thought.

            Or better,

            what you have unwittingly identified with

            as being your thought.


            What we are asking you to examine,

            with that keen intellect

            you have painstakingly developed

            over the course of a multitude of lifetimes,

            is simply this:

            whence the thought

            which is prior to circumstances

            you deem as painful?


            You have noticed that we equate pain

            with unhappiness in the

            mental -> emotional -> physical realms.

            We give the picture of arrows

            to indicate that pain involves

            your entire being.


            If you were to well understand

            how far this “being” extends,

            the responsibility would paralyze you.

            But all in good time.



            whence thought?

            Consider the distinction given you

            some time ago between

            that of the “world” and that of the “earth”.

            It is a critical distinction.

            The earth is what you would call an “entity”.

            Its form,

            which is its quality,

            is not so very different from your own.


            We mean by this

            that the earth freely chooses

            to express in physical form,

            recognizing and accepting

            the inherent limitations of this choice.

            It does this as all true masters do:

            as a choice to delight

            in the expression of that which

            the Father is:

            Unconditional Love that cannot

            entertain fear,

            or constriction of its god nature.


            The earth loves you greatly,

            as it does all of mankind.

            It feels sadness,

            and we say this directly,

            not metaphorically.

            This sadness is the result

            of mankind’s widespread refusal

            of the Father’s presence

            and purpose.


            Separation steadfastly adhered to

            by mankind

            creates a disharmony in all that is,

            which the earth can no longer tolerate.

            Its sadness brings forth a cleansing

            which now begins to express visibly.


            This will accelerate

            in the months and years to come.


            The earth is a wise master

            from whom mankind could learn

            to easily provide all that is required

            without the least bit of effort.

            Mankind scarcely remembers

            that such possibility exists.


            The world is always illusion.

            We see clearly the difficulty

            you have with this.

            Can it be true?


            Must it be true?

            You have already glimpsed the consequences

            of recognizing this truth

            in its fullness.

            And that is why you resist it.


            The world, Marc, means nothing.


            This horrifies you,

            though no longer to such a degree

            that you do not already hold

            within yourself

            the acceptance of this truth.


            Now do we give you your first key:

            Your feelings emanate from your refusal

            to allow this truth into

            the totality of your being.


            Your inner cry for the world to mean something

            is the cry of everyone

            who would insist on Separation

            from the Father.        


            The total acceptance of this truth

            is the death of Separation,

            and signals the of the world.



            from the perspective upon which

            mankind insists,

            this does appear as horrific.

            But know this:

            horror at the thought of the world’s end

            is but the choice to believe in illusions.

            We send here to you

            the image of many mirrors

            quietly shattering around you,

            leaving naught but splendid light,

            to assist in feeling how safe it truly is

            to release illusion.


            The world is your self-created trap.


            as each soul upon the earth has done,

            have assisted in the creation

            of this elaborate web of illusion,

            and its subsequent delusions

            about what is Real.


            Look closely at all of your experience

            as circumstance.

            Is it not a perpetual struggle

            to discern and grasp

            what is thought to be real?


            What activity does mankind

            participate in,

            in which he does not ascribe to it

            the value of having Reality?

            Mankind creates it,

            then seeks it out to experience it –

            again and again –

            solely in order to substantiate

            his belief that illusion is Reality.


            Allow me to simplify.

            What is illusion?

            The world.

            Who is its creator?


            existing in the choice of Separation.

            Mankind’s quest?

            To prove his creation

            has the value of Reality.


            Pride is the only sin

            which can be said to exist.

            It arose when first was held

            in the thought of the Son:

            “I am separate from the Father.”



            what is being taught under the banner

            of the New Age is quite true:

            each incarnate soul is a co-creator,

            creating the world with infinite variation.

            But this is not a teaching which

            fosters enlightenment,

            but only the perpetuation

            of illusion.

            And so it continues.


            The world is a web of illusion which you,

            as a soul,

            freely choose to be immersed within.

            The web is like a vortex,

            or an energy field which is the sole creation

            of mankind.


            Its entire foundation rests

            upon Separation,

            no matter what the pride

            of the ego may desire

            to believe.


            To insist upon illusion

            is to choose being bound

            by this energy, or vortex.

            There is no enlightenment in the world,

            nor can there be.


            It is this truth

            that the ego of mankind

            will cleverly resist

            until exhaustion comes.


            And of what?

            A momentary thought

            of Separation.

            Only a fantasy.

            And from this,

            the arising of all worlds.

            The fantasy,

in truth,

never occurred.


This is the salvation of the world:

that it does not,

nor has it ever,



This one thought is given to you

as your second key,

and can be given to anyone

seeking salvation.

Its contemplation may bring an end,

however momentary this may be,

to identification with the web of energy

which is the mind of the world.



we have come full circle,

and well you perceive the true source

of all your unhappiness.


For never have the thoughts of the world

been yours.

They are illusion.



so is your unhappiness.

You have come to a point

where there is an acute recognition

that every moment

of unwitting identification

with the web of energy

which is the mind of the world

is the creation of pain,

no matter its interpretation

by the ego,

which would insist on its reality.


The joy of the world is a lie,

for the world is not.


Go now, Marc.

Dwell upon these things.

Know well that you hover on the brink

of shattering the mirrors

of illusion.

The veil is being rent.


What you experience,

in your own way,

is the only death which matters.

It is the death of Separation.

Well do I know what will emerge.


Remember this,

and love yourself for it.


We leave you,

yet are always with you.


Peace, I give unto you.





October 12, 1987


“Great night to have emergency clients. Damn!” I mutter to myself while I hurry to turn off my computer, adding machine, typewriter, and radio.


It’s a half hour drive to my yoga class, which is scheduled to begin in twenty minutes. Time to fly. How can the teacher expect anyone else to be on time if he can’t be there on time himself?


Grabbing my briefcase and jacket, I tear past the receptionist. “I’m out of here Peggy!”


“Have a nice…”


Her reply goes unheard as I close the door behind me and run to the parking lot. Better play speed car tonight.


“Great, just great!” I scream as I approach a well-known curve and see that traffic is stopped. It remains quite a distance to the light where I need to turn, and now I know I’ll be late.


And then, wham! Just like that and for no apparent reason, it happens.


No, I have not been rear-ended, though I almost wish I had. Suddenly, everything is perfectly quiet. I cannot hear the cars around me, nor even my radio. My visual field loses sight of everything, temporarily overshadowed by three words:




My whole body is electrified, from the tip of my head to my toes. Then, just as suddenly, it is gone, and everything is back to normal.


“Where did that come from?” I wonder. I feel like I have been hit over the head. Then it strikes me. I am being asked to make this stuff public!


“Oh, no! No way!”


Finally, traffic begins to inch along. I make my way into the parking lot and , as I begin walking to the classroom, I notice that only a few of my student’s cars are here. Maybe very few will be here tonight.


Now, others begin arriving, and I look at my watch. 5:55! It only took me fifteen minutes to get here? In that traffic jam? That is not possible!



On my way home from class, I impulsively turn in a different direction. “It is not too late and,

besides, what are friends for?” I rationalize as I head for Kendra’s house.


I rap loudly and insistently, revealing my impatience, until the door opens.


“Well, surprise of surprises! I thought you had given up your body or something.”


“I know, I have been a little busy of late, what with work and my yoga classes starting up again.”


“So, you no longer have a phone?” She smiles as she hangs up my coat. It is a beautiful Northwest fall evening, but the crispness in the air is beginning to whisper of changes to come. “God, that feels good!” I stand next to her wood-burning stove with the palms of my hands as close as possible without touching it.


“I know it isn’t that cold yet, but what the heck, I love the warmth of a fire!” She settles into her new recliner, the kind that simply swallows you up and refuses to let you go, no matter what tasks are screaming at you for attention. I drop into the couch and relax, letting my eyes rest on the silent dance of the flames in the stove.


“So how is it going?” Kendra asks.


I glance at her and realize she is interested only in the communications. “I suppose you know that is the reason I am here. Well, at least one of the reasons. I mean, I wanted to see you…”


“Don’t try to apologize yourself out of that one!” She is laughing now, and I recover from a moment’s embarrassment.


“I took your advice and just let myself jot this stuff down when it occurred, which hasn’t been all that often, thank God. Once on Molokai, and…”


“What did he say?” she asks, leaning forward a bit.


“It, well, he, I, uh, Kendra,” I mutter, “I think I would rather not get into it right now. Don’t ask me why. I just feel like I would rather not. Not yet anyway. I think I’d like some time to make sense of it myself.”


Realizing my tentativeness, she asks softly, “Is it that provocative?”


I hesitate, feeling a bit self-conscious about my answer. “Well, uh, yes, it, uh, I think it is, yes.”


“You think it is?”


Now it is my turn to sit forward on the couch. “I’ve read my share of metaphysical stuff over the years, and this is blowing me away.”


Kendra laughs, saying, “Maybe that is the meaning of it!”




“Maybe it’s supposed to blow you away!”


Sighing, I tell her what happened on the way to my yoga class. “Damn, Kendra, I don’t know about this! The thought of making this public makes me shudder. I’m no writer. I don’t know the first thing about publishing, and besides…”


Her outburst of laughter cuts my tirade short. Feigning annoyance, though inwardly thankful for the interruption, I tilt my head slightly, turning so that I can barely see her out of the corner of my eye. “And just what is so funny now?” I ask.


“You are better entertainment than watching The Cosby show!”




“Marc, look. Don’t forget who is ultimately in control here! You are the one in a body! You are the one who has control over the decision to publish or not! Would you please relax about it?”


She gets up from her chair, opens the door to the stove, and throws another log inside. Sparks fly and the flames leap higher for a moment as the log drops into the embers.


Kendra turns to me, and stands there for a moment gently shaking her head. “I know I would probably be feeling different about it if it were happening to me. I’d probably totally freak out about it, like you are. But, look, may I say something?”


My turn to make a friendly jab. “So when have you ever asked permission?”


She smiles. “Marc, I just have this feeling about it, even if you don’t want to share any more of it with me at this point. Like I said before you went on vacation, I encourage you to stay with it.”


“But, Kendra, the suggestion was so clear. This doesn’t seem to be meant only for me, and the thought of making it public makes me shudder!”


I put my hands on my knees and stand up quickly. “You know, I couldn’t even concentrate while teaching tonight! When the class was over, I wasn’t sure I was even there! I can’t function with all this stuff going on! I find myself suddenly contemplating something Jeshua has said. Like tonight, all I could think about was that invisible neon billboard flashing those three words at me!”


“How did your class go?”


“What do you mean?”


“Do you think anyone noticed you were not really there?”


I thought for a moment. “A few of my students thanked me afterward, said it had been one of their favorite classes.” I shake my head at the memory.


“Well, there you go! You don’t really need to be there after all. And you probably thought you were important!”


“Ooooh, low blow!”


Kendra’s face becomes thoughtful. “Marc?”


I feign a lack of interest. “I am not going to listen if it hits below the belt again!”


“No, no. It’s just that, well, behind this resistance, there must be something impelling you to continue with it. I mean, if there wasn’t, why would you bother listening to the communications at all, or think about them? I really wish you would let it happen as it happens. Don’t make any judgment about it for now, okay?”


I look at her for a long time. Boy, what would life be without those special friends that journey through it all with you sharing, supporting, encouraging, lightening the loads we somehow create for ourselves?


“Okay, okay. Well, I don’t think I want to share it right now, with anyone. But can I unload on you if I need to?”


“What do you think, you nut? Now, let’s have a glass of wine before you go, since it looks like the only time I’m going to see you is when you think you are going crazy!”


“Well, if this continues, you may be seeing me more often than you think!”







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