“It’s a fine day, Wayne.”
“Yes, it’s a perfect day, Depak.”
“You’re right. Perfect is what I meant. How have you been?”
“Fine, Depak, never better.”
“How’s your wife, Wayne?”
“She’s fine. They did a biopsy. It’s malignant. Spread like a wildfire. Said they can’t do anything for her -- but she’s got six months left.”
“Hope she’s not too upset, Wayne.”
“Well, I explained to her about positive thought and living constructively in the present. True freedom is being totally disinterested in what happens to you, you know. I’m trying to show her what a great opportunity this is. By the way, how’s your daughter doing with the leukemia, Deepak?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped, Wayne. I tried to tell her about detachment, about being in the world but not of the world, and about how we choose our karma on the physical plane, but I don’t think she fully understood. She muttered something about ‘going for a swim without getting wet,’and actually became resentful when I tried to explain about choosing your attitude.”
“Well, she’s still a child, Depak. She’s too young to understand about perception being reality. These things take time. If it would be of any help, I’d be glad to give her a copy of my new book.”
“That would be very nice, Wayne. What is it about?” “It’s called Do Not Ask for Whom the Bell Tolls. It Doesn’t.”
“It sounds nice, Wayne. We’re very lucky to know these things, aren’t we? Active mastery. Never let your happiness be determined by anything outside yourself.”
“Yes, Depak, for that matter, anything inside yourself. On a deep level, the self is
just a fiction, as we know. We breathe the same air as Jesus and Buddha did, and our bodies are made of the same star stuff theirs were.”
“Precisely, Jim.”
“Excuse me, Depak. It’s Wayne.”
“Sorry, yes, Wayne! right. We’re just one body exchanging the same molecules on this divine garden of Earth. It’s really intoxicating when you stop to realize that....Ohew--God! (Deepak suddenly grabs his right foot and crumples toward the ground.)
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Depak! Forgive me. I wasn’t looking where I was going,
I didn’t see our toe. Here, let me help you.” “No! I think my ankle’s sprained. I can’t move. Damn!”
“Well, listen, there’s a phone booth back there. I’ll go call for help.”
“Okay, but hurry. It’s starting to swell. Jesus Christ!”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry. We’ll be okay. Be happy!”
"Good taste is the death of art." Truman Capote
Thursday, June 28, 2007
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