Chapter 3   -  Path of Spirit

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   I decided to walk and swim along the beach in Waikiki, something I frequently did when I had things to figure out. (In the very early mornings, double rainbows usually arch over the emerald green and turquoise blue sea off Waikiki. Frequently, there are triple rainbows.) As I strolled along Kalakaua Avenue on my way to the beach, I passed a man going in the opposite direction. As he passed me, the thought ´he´s psychic, follow him´ popped into my head, so I turned around and followed him. One block later, I was feeling pretty foolish, but when he turned into the International Market Place, I turned too. He stopped at the giant banyon tree, then turned and stepped into it, disappearing behind branches and roots. Cautiously, I walked up to where he´d disappeared. Inside the tree were a small table and two high backed rattan chairs. Above them, a sign on an overhanging branch read, "The Psychic Tree". The man I was following, sat down on one of the chairs. He placed a sign ´Psychic In´ on the table and under that a sign with his name, "Tony". Then he looked up at me and smiled. "Would you like a tarot reading?" he asked.

    I sat down, pulled brochures for both schools out of my beach bag, laid them on the table, and said, "I just want to know which one I should go to."

    He looked down at the brochures and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them and reached for the Palm Desert brochure. "This one", he said, and placed it in my hand.

    "Are you sure?" I asked, looking down at it worriedly. He´d picked the school I couldn´t afford.

    He closed his eyes again. "A voice I haven´t heard before," he said, "is saying, ´don´t question, go´." He opened his eyes and studied my face. "How about a tarot reading anyway?" he suggested. I agreed.

Book One

(Published 1998)

The Act of Creation
Book Two

Universal Records

How to Order

Light Meditation

Messages from Spirit

Proclamation To People of
Earth from Spirit

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Pet Pages

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  He spread the cards out, after I´d cut them three times. Studying them, he asked me, "Do you know Bette Midler?"

    I was startled. "Why?" I asked.

    He shrugged. "Her name popped in my head. I´m a BIG fan of hers," he added, studying the cards. "Are you a writer?"

    "Are you getting that from the cards?" I asked.

"Partly. You also seem to have someone with you who is talking to me in my head. I think that´s who said Bette´s name." He pointed at a card. "Your mate is there, too."

    "Where?" I asked, staring stupidly at the cards..

    "Palm Desert. I can´t tell if he´s married or not, but he´s definitely your mate."

    "I´m not interested in that," I said (and meant it), "what does it say about my writing?"

    "You´re a prophet," he said, tapping a card. "Your books will be very important." He looked up at me. "What have you written?"

    I thought about the books I´d written. Hardly prophecy. I decided he wasn´t so hot at tarot cards, although the "voice" in his head intrigued me. How had it known about Bette?

    "Do you get anything else about the school?" I asked impatiently.

    "Don´t question, go," he said and scooped up the cards.

    I went home and called the school in Palm Desert. "I´ll be there," I said. Next, I called Bette´s offices. Bette was on a trip and couldn´t be reached. So I left a message with her offices that Danny would have a month´s worth of meals when I left, but Bette had only two weeks to get back to me and let me know if she needed me to find someone else for him. I followed that up with a letter as I could never be certain Bette got my messages. Actually, I could never be certain she got my mail either. She´d made remarks in the past that made me wonder if she´d ever read any of my letters.

    Next, I worked out a plan with Bambi and three of her friends. I had decided when I returned from California, I would get a smaller place for Tyson and me, so Bambi, now 18, and three of her friends, who were all looking for a place to live together, could take over my lease. In the meanwhile, if they all wanted to share Bambi´s room and pay the rent on the room, I could afford to hold onto the house for three months They eagerly accepted. Including my sister, there would now be five adult women in the house while I was gone. Tyson, age 15, might feel outnumbered, but he and the house would be taken care of, I hoped.

     I´d already received a week´s subscription to the Palm Desert Newspaper that I had ordered. Rooms in private homes were readily available and I had just enough for one month´s rent, deposit, and food. I would have to get work to pay for the last two month´s rent and food. The only problem remaining was the additional $1800 I needed to pay for the courses. I decided I would just have to trust the money would come in somehow.

    "What do you mean, it will come in somehow!" my best friend, Faye, exclaimed incredulously. "You have a week . What do you think, you´ll just walk to your mailbox one morning and there will be a check for $1800?"

    "Why not?" I retorted flippantly. "All I know is I´m supposed to be in those classes. I have no doubt that I have done all I can to make that happen. The Universe will have to do the rest." The very next morning, I went to my mailbox. There was a postcard in it:

On the other side of the post card was a phone number. When I called, Mr. Noonan answered. He was, he said, a special investigator and he had located money for me in the California General Fund. He would do the necessary paper work, mail me the papers for a notarized signature, then, after I´d mailed those back to him, he would send me a check, minus his 10%.

     "That seems fair," I said cautiously, "what money?"

    "Twenty-five years ago, you were in the movie ´Hawaii´," Mr. Noonan replied.

    "Yes," I agreed. "I was."

    "Well, you´ve been collecting residuals from it ever since. The Screen Actor´s Guild couldn´t locate you so the money has been going to the California General Fund."

    "How much is it?" I asked.

    "Minus my fee, $1800," Mr. Noonan answered.

    I gave him his 10%, plus twenty bucks for dinner. I´d have given him more if I could. He was, after all, an angel.

    I was to meet another angel on my first night in Palm Springs. I arrived in Palm Springs in the afternoon, in August. Desert heat is not like island heat. It is dry; and very, very HOT. I discovered Palm Desert was some distance away, so I checked into the Spa Hotel for the night while I figured out how to get to Palm Desert. After a soak in the hot springs (I was disappointed it was in a concrete tub), I was feeling nauseous and lightheaded, so I skipped dinner and went to bed.

    Sometime in the night, I had a dream. The dream was of four women - myself, Bette, a friend of mine, and a friend of Bette´s. In the dream Bette was lamenting about good and evil and the pain people suffer. I put my arm around her to console her. An invisible voice spoke loudly, reprimanding me. It said, "We´re trying to teach her something here."

    I replied, "Oh, yes," and removed my arm. My friend patted Bette´s hand, which I resented. My thought was, if I can´t console her, why should she? She´s not even a friend of Bette´s. Then I recognized she was as much a part of Bette as Bette´s friend and I were, or anyone else was for that matter. I looked at the three of them and announced, "Knowledge leads to understanding. Understanding leads to self-mastery. And self-mastery leads to God."

    At that moment, I woke. I realized my bed was rocking and the room was filled with Light. In the middle of the room was a very tall Angelic Being. It didn´t have wings, but it was surrounded with Light. "You are about to begin a journey," the Being said, smiling at me. As strange as it seems, I nodded, closed my eyes, and went back to sleep.

    The next morning, as I awoke, I immediately thought of what had happened in the night; I knew it had been real. My mind drifted back to an experience two years before, while I was meditating.

    While still In New York, I´d read There Is A River, by Thomas Sugrue. It was the biography of Edgar Cayce, often called "America´s greatest seer. After that, I read all of the Edgar Cayce books I could find. The books renewed my spiritual faith and taught me to meditate. For me, meditation is a time of inner silence when my mind is absent of all thought, visions, dreams, and voices. (Those happen in between meditations.) I have long noted that when I am meditating, life´s challenges are still present, but they are so much easier to meet. When I am not meditating, I struggle. So for twenty-five years, I have meditated more days than I have not.

    On that morning, my mind had been on an Edgar Cayce book I´d been re-reading the night before. Something in it had triggered deep within me an absolute acceptance of the reality of God. I´d shut the book in great excitement, my heart joyfully leaping as I thought, "There IS a God!" As I sat to meditate, I could feel that feeling again. I closed my eyes with the thought, "God Is" filling my mind and joy filling my heart. Then a voice spoke. It seemed to be my voice, but it spoke without my volition, and it was different somehow: like a still, quiet voice. It said, "I will lift thee up and use thee." My eyes flew open. I was certain I´d just heard from God.

    In an interesting survey I read in The Reader´s Digest, I think, a large majority of the people surveyed believed they had heard at some time in their lives the voice of God. Now I was one of them.

    I became more convinced it had been God when I heard that same voice again, a couple of months later, as I was floating on my back in the blue-green sea off Waikiki, lazily kicking my feet. I had been pondering for several days an argument with a beloved friend, who had stated one could only be "saved" by believing in the divinity of Jesus Christ. Her belief had astounded and saddened me, leaving out as it did billions of people and implying anyone God had created needed to be "saved´. As I stared up at the clouds, however, I wondered if I was the one being closed minded. Suddenly, I heard "that voice" again. It said:

    "The Lord Thy God Is One. Whether Man Calls Me By God, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Yea, Even Krishna, It Is I. For I Am With Man Always. As Long As A Man Believes And Acknowledges That Which Is Greater Than The Sum Of His Parts And His Works, That Which Is His Creator, He Worships Me. For My Name Man Has Never Known, And Could Not Utter. I Am That I Am. And I Am With Thee Always."

    I swam back to shore, climbed out, and having nothing to write on or with, I walked the few blocks to my apartment, hoping I could remember the words. I needn´t have worried, the words were etched in my mind.

    I´d been waiting ever since for God to lift me up and use me. I´d expected something spectacular to happen right away. It hadn´t. I wondered if it was happening now. I took a city bus into Palm Desert; eager to discover my destiny.

    The very first day of class I discovered the answer to life´s greatest (for me) puzzles: Why some prayers are answered and many, seemingly, are not. Why bad things happen to good people. Why some people heal and others do not. Why miracles happen, and why they don´t. Why some people are psychic a lot and others are never psychic at all. Why mystical voices, visions, and angelic beings are not commonplace. The answer, I discovered, was the subconscious mind.

     Now all I had to do was learn everything I could about the subconscious mind.

    Dr. Harmon is a wonderful teacher. Incredibly knowledgeable, he teaches as all Masters teach: simply, with gentle guidance, and wise counsel. He also teaches with great humor, and I became more and more enchanted with his stories of "Bad Billy", the adventurous lad he had been. I knew he was teaching us, as he shared his personal journey, how the soul grows.

    As I continued my exploration of my own soul, I began to do "automatic" writing. I designated one hand for my "emotional mind" and the other my "spiritual mind". I placed the pen on a piece of paper and asked if any emotions would like to express themselves. I got page after page of ´o´s´, just like we used to do in grade school when we first learned penmanship. Then I got LOTS of pages of letters of the alphabet. I quickly learned that my hand didn´t like to lift off the paper between words or lines, so I turned the paper sideways to give myself more room. Eventually the letters began to make words, though the words didn´t add up to anything meaningful. Bored, I quit practicing.

    The next day I tried again. Only this time, I put the pen in my spiritual mind hand and placed it on the paper. Immediately, my "hand" wrote my name. I stared at the paper. I hadn´t thought of writing my name, or had I? And if I had, why had I? I put the pen to paper again. My hand moved fluidly across the paper. The writing was very messy and large, and the words ran into one another, but the message they spelled were clear. It said: "We are here." I lifted the pen and stared at the words. "Who is here?" I asked aloud and put pen to paper again.

    This time my hand wrote: "Spirit."

    I asked aloud, "Who and what kind of Spirit?"

    "Your guides," they wrote.

    I asked for names. I was given two, Rama (pronounced Rah MA´) and Ramet (pronounced Rah MAY´). I was told these spirit guides were aspects of my Higher Self and the Higher Self of my mate.

    "What mate?" I asked. "Where is he?"

    "Bebe is near," they wrote.

    They also advised me to quit job hunting and concentrate on my studies. "Have faith," they wrote. "Your needs will be provided." Three days later, an opportunity to house and cat sit for two months presented itself. I took it happily and continued to do automatic writing (though for me, the thought comes and then I write it, my hand doesn´t write it "automatically") with my spirit guides. (Unfortunately for my emotional mind, I did not return to it. Too bad for me, for had I done so, I´ve little doubt my therapy would have begun sooner and progressed much faster.)

    The next two months were heavenly. I went to class, read the class books, swam daily in the pool, had many mystical experiences, and discovered hummingbirds. (We don´t have hummingbirds in Hawaii. I think they are as delightful as I imagine fairies would be. Actually, I think they ARE fairies embodied in earth forms.) Though I was as content as I think it is earthly possible to be, I wondered, as the weeks rolled by, what had happened to BeBe. I didn´t really care if he didn´t show up - intimate relationships had proved more curse than blessing in my life - but I hated to think my guides had been wrong.

    Too soon, the courses were coming to a close. We had less than two week left when a fellow classmate, Shirley Smith, and I went dancing to celebrate our coming graduation. Dr. Harmon and his wife, Merrien, joined us. An excellent dancer, Dr. Harmon danced with each of us. When it was my turn, he put his arm around my waist. I leaned into him and my knees buckled. Not only did he have to hold me up, he had to practically drag me across the dance floor. As I´d been bragging earlier about my dancing prowess, I was quite embarrassed. I think he wondered whether I was a liar, drunk, or both.

    When I got home that night, I was very confused. I knew what had buckled my knees: sexual energy. Where had that come from? I had not felt any kind of energy like that from or towards Dr. Harmon all through the classes. Besides, Dr. Harmon was married, though it was no secret the marriage was dissolving. Merrien Harmon had informed several of her friends of her desire for a divorce, and that news had, as such gossip usually does, spread rapidly. I decided I was simply experiencing a classic crush on the teacher; albeit, a bit late. My crush, however, seemed to get worse with each passing day.

    Just before graduation, Dr. Harmon called me into his office. He asked me about my plans when I returned to Hawaii. I told him I was thinking of opening, thanks to his encouragement, a practice as a hypnotherapist. He told me that was exactly what he´d hoped, and that I could call him on the phone as often as I needed or wanted his support and guidance. I was thrilled. Then he asked me to help him with his book. I was more than thrilled. He also told me we would always be friends, good friends. I was certain he was telling me he was aware of my crush and was gently discouraging me. Hurt and embarrassed, I mumbled a "thank you" and left.

    I returned home and whipped out my pen and paper. "Who IS this BeBe," I demanded, still feeling angry and hurt. "Why hasn´t he appeared?"

    "You call him Bad Billy," the guides wrote. I sat in shock, staring at the words. I went back over my automatic writing - which I kept in a large spiral notebook - and found ´BeBe´. Staring at it, I could see that what I thought were two small ´e´s´ could easily be two large, messy periods. Still, the Guides had been wrong: Dr. Harmon clearly was not my mate. At that moment, the phone rang. It was Dr. Harmon.

    "I don´t know why I´m doing this," he said quietly. I held my tongue. There was a moment´s silence, then he said, "Do you have something to tell me?"

    "Yes," I said, and took a deep breath. "I have a crush on you. Will you help me get over it?"

    "No," he said softly. There was another moment of silence, then he spoke again, "It will take some time. Will you stay here in the Desert while Merrien and I work out our divorce?"

    "No," I said, wishing I could. "You go through your stuff without me. I´ll wait in Hawaii. I´ll return when you´re divorced."

    It took two years.

    Merrien changed her mind about the divorce. She and Hugh had been friends a long time, much longer than they had been mates. He´d helped her completely recover from a devastating stroke when the doctors had considered such recovery impossible. She realized how much she had come to depend on him and she decided she wanted a separation, not a divorce. Hugh reminded her she had asked for the divorce, telling him they had grown apart and she was eager to be on her own. She was right, he said, they had grown apart and he, too, was eager to be on his own. He didn´t mention me.

    I spoke with Hugh by phone daily as we collaborated on the book. I could hear in his voice his sincerity when he said he wanted to be with me, but felt he had to stay with Merrien until she was emotionally ready to accept the divorce. He asked me for patience. Had it not been for my guides, I´m not certain I would have had the patience. "Trust" they wrote. "Believe" they wrote. "He is your mate," they wrote. "Have faith. Be BeBe´s Bride."

    I continued to write on the book and see clients. Not wanting to invest in an "official" office because I would be leaving soon - I thought - I´d made a hypnotherapy room out of the Master bedroom after Bambi and her friends had left. They had been very upset when I´d returned and broken my promise to let them take over the lease. I didn´t blame them. But I´d returned home penniless and had no-where else to go. It was them or me, and I had Tyson to consider.

    I had also managed to antagonize Bette. She had not gotten either my phone message or my letter and she felt I´d let her down with Danny. She also felt I´d been overcharging her for Danny´s food and cooking. I didn´t even bother to remind her how expensive food is in Hawaii, and gas, nor that she had offered me twice the amount, which I had turned down. Besides, I suspected she was more upset about Hugh than she was about Danny. She´d called me a couple of times in Palm Desert and I´d been highly enthusiastic about Dr. Harmon.

    "Is he coming on to you?" she´d demanded, incensed by the idea of a teacher - a married teacher - compromising a student.

    "Of course not," I replied, indignantly. "There isn´t a hint of sexuality between us."

    It was hard explaining from that remark - which had been absolutely true at the time - how we had gotten to the point of him getting a divorce and me waiting in the wings. So hard, I didn´t even try.

    After a year and a half of waiting for the divorce, I rebelled. I began to believe I could trust neither my guides nor Hugh. I started dating a man who was earnestly pursuing me. It was my father who checked my rebellion. "A marriage," he told me gently, "is difficult to end, even when it is time to end it. It is even more difficult when a business partnership is involved. If you love him, trust him." I sat down, after my talk with my father, and told my guides I had to have a sign that would help me to believe.

    While in Palm Desert, I had been swimming in the pool and thinking of the mate my guides had ´promised". ´How will I know this man?´ I´d asked aloud. At that moment, I´d looked up and right in front of me, at the end of the pool, was a rose bush, covered with roses. ´He will be a man of roses,´ I heard myself think. When the class went to Hugh´s home for our graduation dinner, there in his back yard was a huge rose garden. "Fifty-four rose bushes," he told us proudly. "I´m a man of roses." Later, I received a package from him in Honolulu. Opening it, I found a perfect live French Lace rose. I hadn´t even told him my rose story.

      "You have until noon to provide a sign," I announced imperially to the guides. Impatient with them and myself, I went to look for a present for a friend´s birthday. In the store, I was riding up the elevator, eyes straight ahead. Slowly, the largest bouquet of roses I´d ever seen came into view right at the top of the escalator. I stepped off and stared at them. Then I smelled them. Smiling - I recognized a sign when I saw one - I went to buy my present, noting the store clock as I passed it. It read 11:59 A.M. When I came back, the roses were gone! Were they real? I wondered and asked a sales lady passing by if there had been roses at the top of the escalator a few minutes ago. "Oh yes," she said brightly. "They were ordered for a state dinner. You´re lucky you saw them, they were only here for a minute or two."

    Three months later, Hugh and Merrien were divorced. I turned the lease on the house over to my son (now out of High School) and his friends, then flew back to Palm Desert to join Hugh. It was too soon. Hugh was stressed - mentally and emotionally - as well as exhausted - physically and financially - from the divorce. Though it had begun amicably enough, it had ended with rancor on both sides. Despite this, they were still working together. Merrien had helped him build his practice and school. She was reluctant to leave. He was reluctant to have her leave. They had worked out a testy truce at the office.

    I was shocked. I´d left my Hawaii practice, which had been doing very well indeed, to start a practice as Hugh´s partner. Merrien, well aware of my arrival in town and my relationship with Hugh, was not willing to have me even walk in the front door. I was not willing to walk in the front door either, until she left. As far as I was concerned, this was the woman who had "cost" me two years with Hugh. I was not in the mood to consider her feelings or reflect on how valuable and important those two years apart had been for me. I had built up my own Practice and become secure in my own therapist abilities. I´d also had more time with my children, though I´d spent too much of it moping around, waiting impatiently for my "real life" to begin. (If I could impart only one piece of advice for all girls and women, it would be: Your "real life" is NOW, with or without a boy or a man in it. Enjoy every moment.)

    Hurt and feeling betrayed by Hugh, I "holed" myself up in my townhouse. I pretended I was working on the book, but really, I was worrying about my relationship and my savings. Hugh had been generous in the divorce settlement, leaving himself barely enough money to maintain the offices and rent a small apartment for himself. Not that I expected him to meet my expenses. My father raised me to be self-sufficient, and self-sufficient I am. Nevertheless, my savings were shrinking.

    Hugh would arrive at the end of the day with food he would cook in my tiny, ill-equipped kitchen. He pretended he didn´t miss his spacious home, his beloved rose gardens, or his gourmet kitchen. It was clear, however, as I watched him trying to please me, that he was as miserable as I. Though I was sympathetic, and tried to be understanding, inwardly I was fuming. I, too, had suffered loss: I´d left behind clients I cared about, an island I loved, and most difficult of all, my beloved family. Now I was being cheated of a courtship as well.


    Stuck in the middle of the anger and pain of both an ex-wife and a future wife, I was under a great deal of stress. Financial concerns added to my stress, which hammered at me daily, especially in my neck. The pain was becoming intolerable, even with my healing techniques. I couldn´t understand why the neck was getting the best of me; I´d met and conquered every challenge to my body in the past.

    As a young man, I´d had a strong and healthy body; only I´d damaged it repeatedly with strenuous - even dare-devil - exploits. My back had been fractured three times: Falling off the roof as a kid. Playing football in High School. While serving in the army. Consequently, by the time I was forty, an x-ray revealed three ruptured discs, with one of them completely destroyed. Of course, the medical doctors wanted to do an operation to fuse my spine, but I told them I would heal it myself. They shook their heads and warned me the discs would continue to deteriorate. Since the subconscious mind controls the body, I began telling my subconscious to heal the discs in my back. I continued this message daily by imaging the discs whole and healthy. The pain went away. Seven years later another x-ray revealed three perfectly shaped, normal discs.

    In my 50´s, I began to have difficulty breathing. No-one seemed able to determine the cause, though it was getting so bad I was having difficulty walking across a room without having to stop to catch my breath. Finally I found a doctor specializing in thoracic medicine; which is how I met Dr. Warren Jacobs. He took X-rays and discovered interstitial fibrosis, an almost invisible fibrous growth that slowly fills the lungs, thus limiting - and eventually eliminating - the ability of the lungs to absorb oxygen. I was told medical science could stop the growth with the use of steroids, but nothing could reverse the damage already done. I thanked Dr. Jacobs. Now that I knew what was wrong, I could fix it. I also knew my subconscious mind could do more than stop the growth, it could reverse the damage already done.

    The second step in any healing (after discovering what is broken, ill, or out of balance), is to find the emotion or emotions that caused and/or are contributing to the injury, illness, or imbalance. I sat in a hot tub, closed my eyes, and began to name emotions. As I named anger, my chest constricted; when I named resentment, it constricted again. Still in a light self-hypnotic state, I asked to know the source of the anger and resentment. Immediately, my mind returned to a visit I´d made to a very close friend, some six months prior. I´d clearly seen serious errors he was making in an important business matter and had tried to share my observations with him. This, despite the fact that as a therapist, I knew better than to offer unasked for help. I tried to help him over the next several weeks. Not only did he refuse my help, he would - each time I tried to bring the matter up - consistently hold newspapers or magazines in front of his face to shut me out! Remembering, I could feel the anger and resentment all over again. That I could feel the emotions now was a sure indication I´d not released them.

    Emotion is energy, powerful energy. It is the energy that combines with thought to manifest physical reality. Negative emotions, like my anger and resentment, manifest negative conditions. Suppressing my anger and resentment had caused my lungs to fill with a fibrous growth that could kill me. What I had to do now, in order to reverse that, was to release those emotions.

    I thought of my friend. I reminded myself he, like everyone, possessed a direct line to better guidance than I, or anyone else, could offer. I could not know whether he had accessed that guidance directly, indirectly, or not at all. I could not know if his Higher Self had guided him to make the very errors he had made in order to grow or even to offer an opportunity for others to grow. I reminded myself that it had been my error to offer unasked for advice and my error to have let his childish reaction to that offer affect me. Certainly it had been my error, and loss, to let that incident affect my love for him. Shutting down love had caused my body to begin shutting down the very breath (lungs) of life. I thought of my friend and our bond since childhood. I thought of all I loved and admired about him and as I let my buried love re-surface, I felt the anger and resentment melt away in its warmth.

    The inward healing of my emotions accomplished, I now needed to attend to the damage already done. As I thought of the fibrous growth in my lungs, the thought of a large oak tree flashed in my mind. Realizing the oak tree was the interstitial fibrosis as imaged by my subconscious, I asked my subconscious how to get rid of the oak tree in my lungs.

    I suddenly thought of a workshop I´d taken with Dr. John Ott who had done great research with light and time frame photography. His work had been used to create the fantastic images of rapidly blooming plants in the movie Fantasia. The thought occurred to me of using that technique to reverse the growth of the oak tree; i.e., the interstitial fibrosis. Like a movie reel in my mind, I reversed the growth of the oak tree, shrinking it down into the acorn from which it had grown. I asked myself what to do with the acorn. Knowing that composting is a returning of organic matter back into the vital prime energy of nature, I composted - in my mind - that acorn back into my vital prime energy; then I thanked my subconscious mind for making it happen.



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