To read this book, start with

Entry 1 (1972)

There are a thousand different ways of being. I knew that and yet occasionally wondered if maybe there really was only one right way. Bu...

Entry 38 (1987)

(BELIEVE ME, IT ISN’T THE ENTRY I JUST WROTE THAT BOTHERS ME AT ALL.  What then?  IT’S THE ONE I’M GOING TO WRITE THAT BOTHERS ME.)

* * * * * * *

The adult me was shaking.  (Nothing unusual in that.)  I was at the ocean with my partner.  I took high blood pressure medication from the last time I was upset and needed help.  But, it didn’t stop me from shaking.  I was sickened by it—the story, the memories, everything—which only made me shake more.

The shaking made me angry.  I wanted to be relaxed at the ocean, and there was something else adding to the stress.  Something about the shaking itself.

The spasmodic jerking, the pain, and the caught breath between spasms felt as if I was being raped again—right now.  My body was reliving the trauma.  Every time I got upset, my body relived being raped over and over and had been for years since I first started shaking.

This realization made me feel sicker inside which made me shake more.  This made me relive how my body felt being raped which made me shake more.

It took a long time to get out of that cycle.  It was a long night.  I felt even my venting mechanisms were turning against me.  I was fresh out of directions.

It was a good thing I was at the ocean the next morning.  Directions were simple there.  I either walked towards the water or away from it and up or down the coast.  I tried to limit my directions to just those for the day and made in through in one piece.

* * * * * * *

(1972)

The gentle wind blows the heavy thoughts away.  It blew through Lucifer’s mind.  Meditating was incredibly rewarding to him, but it brought about a double image of the world.

He knew that he could reach J eventually.  He felt it in his heart.  But for all appearances, it seemed he was failing.  One of the dilemma’s of psychic adventuring is learning not to accept appearances of failure.  Fortunately, he had Brenda and Martineau to give him support.  Occasionally, however, he felt doubtful of the whole affair and had to clear his mind with a psychic breeze.

* * * * * * *

(1987)

The twenty-nine year old me had a baby with my then partner I nicknamed the “Gentle Wind.”  When I had held her for the first time, I felt a psychic ease blow through my mind.

Remembering my childhood pains was soul searing.  But, I was lucky.  When I stopped shaking, I had the Gentle Wind to reassure me about the natural rightness of the world and made me smile.