He’s got twenty years Tarot experience, the home numbers of enlightened masters and star charts on his Palm Pilot. Cutting through (over coffee) is what we’re meant to do. Instead it appears we’re lost again in the winter coat closet.
Appreciation. Super-consciousness. Unlimited abundance!
What I hear you saying is. . .
It’s the usual trouble with spiritual people. They seem so much less spiritual than the unspiritual people--the ones left with nothing to go on but kindness.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the retrovirals, but still I miss the friends who cut me off— "My doctor gives me six months. I don’t take any crap."
Only one of the nuns I ever knew was kinder than the average sex club doorman, the kind who's seen your sheets and still smiles when he passes back your keys at the end of the night.
That was Ani Rita, the knife throwing nun, who’d been a very dangerous cook once upon a time in Switzerland. A woman came to her saying she’d had a terrible premonition, that she’d be dead in a year.
Dead in a year, laughed Ani Rita. You could be dead tonight.
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