MY CONVERSATION WITH
50 DOLLARS
…and the secret language of money
By Orlando Rivera
Published by Orlando Rivera at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Orlando Rivera All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, places and dialogues are the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, are a pure coincidence.
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DEDICATION
To my Grandmother Julia, who taught me that there is more to this world than meets the eye.
Chapter 2- Mrs. Barbara Bailey
Chapter 9- The Kingdom Of Abar-Car
And the donkey saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, and his sword drawn in his hand: and the donkey turned aside out of the way and went into the field: and Balaam smote the donkey, to turn her into the way.
But the angel of the LORD stood in a path of the vineyards, a wall being on this side, and a wall on that side.
And when the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, she thrust herself unto the wall, and crushed Balaam’s foot against the wall: and he smote her again.
And the angel of the LORD went further, and stood in a narrow place, where was no way to turn either to the right hand or to the left.
And when the donkey saw the angel of the LORD, she fell down under Balaam and Balaam’s anger was kindled, and he smote the donkey with a staff.
And the LORD opened the mouth of the donkey, and she said to Balaam, What have I done unto thee, that thou hast smitten me these three times?
And Balaam said unto the donkey, Because thou hast mocked me: I would there be a sword in mine hand, for now I would kill thee.
And the donkey said unto Balaam, Am not I thine donkey, upon which thou has ridden ever since I was thine unto this day? Was I ever wont to do so unto thee? And he said, Nay.
Then the LORD opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the angel of the LORD standing in the way, and his sword drawn in his hand: and he bowed down his head, and fell flat on his face.
Numbers 22:23-31
My grandma knew things. She would be looking out to the hills that we could see from our porch and in the middle of a bright sunny afternoon she would say, “The wind smells like rain,” and out of nowhere clouds would gather in the sky and rain would begin to fall. She always knew this kind of thing. It was easy for her. She would say, “Last night, you know, I had a dream. Don Genaro, the milkman, came to say good-bye to me. He sat right there, in front of my bed, and we chatted for a while. He told me he was going away.” The next day a neighbor would come by and tell my Grandma that Don Genaro had passed away the night before. Grandma would look at me and wink, and then smile. For Grandma, this world and the next were both part of the same.
Everyday after lunch, Grandma would sit on the porch of the house and just contemplate the world around her. I always sat next to her, very close to her, snuggled up against her. She would make comments about the day, the birds, the trees, the sky, the wind and the sun. I would just sit quietly and listen to her. I always felt so very secure around her. Grandma had a gentle kindness to her that to this day I miss so very much. She never talked about the past or for that matter never talked much about others. It seemed that she was preoccupied with other things that others were not, things that belonged to some other world, some other time. When I sat with her on the porch, something would always happen. Someone would show up and bring her something, or ask her something, or just stop by to say hello as she mused about life.
That particular afternoon something happened that I would never forget, although I was still so very young. I must have been around five years old. As we sat there on the porch contemplating the world, out of nowhere a puppy appeared and walked straight to me. He started weaving back and forth between my feet, circling me, wagging his tail furiously. He had black and brown spots all over his body, but his tummy was perfectly white. Grandma, looking at me with her gentle eyes, said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go and get him some milk. I think the little fellow must be hungry.” I ran so fast to the kitchen that I believe I fell twice before getting there. I quickly pulled up a chair to the fridge, climbed onto it, reached in and got the milk, poured some into a little plastic bowl and then walked carefully with the milk back to Grandma and the pup. Grandma and I watched as the puppy licked the bowl clean. When he had finished, he started toward the end of the porch, and as I attempted to go after him, Grandma stopped me and said, “Let him go. He will be back tomorrow, probably around the same time as today.” I looked at Grandma a bit puzzled. I couldn’t help but feel sad to let the puppy go.
Sure enough, at the same time the very next day, while Grandma and I were sitting on the porch contemplating the world, the puppy showed up again, weaving in between my feet, wagging his tail and looking up at me, attempting to bark at the same time. I did not wait for Grandma to tell me to get him some milk. This time I ran before she could speak and brought the milk back for him. As the little puppy licked the milk, I asked Grandma, “How did you know he was going to come back, Grandma?” Grandma put her arms around my shoulders and while we both stared at the puppy, she said, “Because, my little darling, puppies are like people. If you are good to them, they will always come back. Just like people, they will always search for the goodness that they instinctively feel belongs to them. That little puppy came to you yesterday looking for something and he got it. So, naturally, he came back for more today. We people, just like puppies, will spend all our lives looking for the goodness we know belong to us. You will see as you grow up that the main thing for which we are searching is kindness, goodness, joy and love. The only thing your puppy wants is to feel the way he feels right now. Happy.”
I named the puppy Tribby. Tribby stayed with me for years.
I just recently understood what Grandma meant.
Chapter 1 The Bench
I am not exactly sure how I got here. I hadn’t been to the park since my school days. All of a sudden I had this enormous desire, an urge, to get to New Eden Park as soon as possible. So, here I was, getting out of my car, walking toward the end of the park where there was a bench in front of the river, where the currents divide around the park and then merge again on the other side. New Eden Park is a small island in the middle of the river.
The air was humid and charged with anticipation, as if something out of the ordinary was about to happen. So much had changed since I was here the last time. The trees were so much taller and many more had been planted. There were flowers everywhere. Perhaps they had been there all along and had just become more noticeable to me. The green grass made for the perfect background to the wonderful gathering of tiger lilies, daisies and dandelions.
I walked the route to the bench that I had always taken while in school, which was the route along the west side, mainly because it was so close to the river – you could touch the water if you wanted to – and also because of the sound the water made as it calmly murmured its way through the rocks. It sounded like familiar music to me, so melodic; it had a calming effect on my mind. As I followed the path through the trees, I remembered so many of the things that I had experienced here. I realized that I really didn’t know why I had rushed here, but for the moment, all I could sense was a feeling of comfort and familiarity. Memories of a time long gone flooded back to me, and yet, they still felt so very real, so very close to me. It seemed as if time had stood still in my mind for that moment, and I could see the faces, hear the laughter and observe the events that had taken place so many times in this park in the past. Friends, concerts, picnics, the river, the trees, the green grass and of course, the bench.
There, finally, the bench. Although to others it may have seemed like just another used park bench, for me it was anything but ordinary, for I had experienced some of my most treasured memories and moments in my life from there. It was there that I had written my first poem. It was there that I had had my first kiss, and also my first broken heart. It was the bench that held many secrets. I was comforted in knowing that it could not speak.
I had worked myself back to the bench, and I hesitated, now, before sitting down and I gazed into the river. Slowly I lowered myself onto the bench. I was overwhelmed. I had thought I would never be here again. Nevertheless, here I was, looking at the reflection of the cloud formations as they moved on top of the river’s face and then watching them disappear again, as some of them would take the flow of the river’s right side and others would move towards the river’s left side.
I often wonder what might have happened if I would have taken the left side, instead of the right side, in my own life’s river. So many times I have thought about all the decisions that I have made, that brought me to the place I am today, in this river we call life. It seems as if I have been running so fast for so long, and yet I don’t even know exactly where it is that I am going. It seems as if it was just yesterday that I was flowing effortlessly through the trees of this park, running, laughing, living carefree and loving every minute of it. It seems as if it was a few hours ago I was graduating from high school and running off to college. It seems as if it was last week that I graduated from college and I was now interviewing for my first job. It seems as if a few minutes ago I began my first company and only seconds ago that I learned it had gone bankrupt. It seems as if the last twenty years had just disappeared, gone with those clouds, down the river. I did not really know where those years had gone.
That is probably the reason I have worked myself back to this place. Somehow, I wanted to feel as if life could be fresh again. After trying so hard to succeed for so long, and not having attained a lot of what I had wanted, perhaps coming back to where it all started with so much promise, in some innocent way, would help me capture that awesome feeling that life is on my side again and that everything could go my way once again. Maybe, just maybe, that was what I need; to go back to the beginning; to get a new understanding; to get a fresh new perspective. After all, what have I got to lose? The house is in foreclosure. My retirement money is spent. The company is bankrupt. The cars will be gone next week and the worse thing of all, my darling wife has had it. As she told me just yesterday, “I didn’t marry you, Jack Kingsley, to struggle.” I don’t have anything else to lose. Almost everything I cared for is gone. Perhaps the river could remind me of a secret or two and make it all right again.
The irony of it all is that I am losing the people and the things that were the most important reasons behind which I chose to live this life of mine, and yet I am losing those people and things precisely because of my work and my efforts. Not only have I lost all my money, but I am also losing those relationships that are the most important to me because of the pressures of not having money. Life can be a funny thing, you know. It seems that the more you want something, the more elusive it becomes. So much for work hard and your dreams can come true. In so many respects I was more successful as a teenager than what I have been so far as an adult, and much happier also. If I could do it all over again, I would begin by following that which made me feel joyous, not by following whatever I thought could make me money. Money is a fact of life, but it can make things either very right or so very wrong.
Everybody has a different opinion about money. Most people find it a very sensitive matter. Most people have a relationship with it that is at best civil; at worst it becomes a story of confusion and misery. Some people find it taboo to talk about “the root of all evil”. Others consider money to be a totally private matter and even embarrassing to discuss. They would rather never talk about money at all - ever! Many will tell you to your face that they couldn’t care less about money, and yet they spend the whole day complaining that they don’t have any. Then there is the group that would rather die than spend any money, choosing to live a life of joyless frugality in their search for security. There are those that live in fear of money, never personally looking at their financial statements, bank accounts or any of their money matters. There are those that sell their bodies for money and the very desperate ones that would kill for money – and do. And then, well, there is me.
I have been trying for twenty years to understand money, and I have come out empty handed and confused. I feel as if I have been courting a lady for two decades and she has left me standing at the altar. And to make matters worse, she left me to marry a wealthy man who after all, didn’t need her as much as what I did. That is how I feel. It may sound funny, but how else can I explain it. I have worked intensely for years to achieve my financial goals and although I’ve had some victories, they have not lasted. Money always seems to find its way in increasing amounts to those that already have plenty of it.
So here I sit and watch the river divide and choose where to go. What are my options? I could go back and join the rat race again and give it another try. I could sit here, go back over everything and try to figure out where it all went wrong. Or perhaps, I should just sit here and wait. Think for a while. Let a few hours go by. Let the day unfold. Feel the wind behind me encircling the trees, running wild through the flowers. Let the sun warm my face. Kick off my shoes and feel the grass beneath my feet. Take a few deep breaths and fill my lungs with this wonderful summer breeze. Let my eyes see all the colors of the world and stare endlessly into the infinite blue sky. Or perhaps I should just get up and find a job! No…I can’t…not just yet…rather…perhaps I should close my eyes and lay on top of the river and let myself go with its currents’ flow, on top of the earth, and just go away far, very far. Until I reach the sea. It does not matter what sea. Any sea. Just let myself go. Maybe I could find in the deep blue, the happiness for which I have been searching.
“I can sit here for hours and lose myself in this beautiful place,” said the voice.
As soon as I heard the voice I knew that I had fallen asleep. I didn’t know for how long. It felt like a long time. My neck hurt from resting it on top of the back of the bench. But then I realized that I could not have fallen asleep for a long time because it was still daytime and the sun was still shining bright. I must have looked to this person who was now sitting next to me, like just another bum sleeping on just another park bench. Maybe that was my destiny: to become one more tragic story of someone who used to be president of a company and now makes his home in a park. I can see how that could
make an interesting story for a local paper, “Entrepreneur Loses Everything - Now Sleeps At New Eden Park.” I would buy the paper that day. I would read that story. I would like to know how that could have happened. Yes, I would like to know the juicy details of the life of this loser.
I came back to my senses realizing that the person sitting next to me on my bench was a lady. How rude of me not to have said hello and acknowledged her. Then again, how rude of her to be sitting on my bench without asking me first if she could! I was here first. Sometimes I really wonder about people’s manners.
“I would have asked you, if you minded terribly, if I might sit here with you, but you were asleep. I hope that my daring attitude did not startle you. If it did, please forgive me.”
Ordinarily I would have answered her back sarcastically with the comment, “Well there are other benches in the park!” but for some reason, I didn’t. When I heard her voice and looked into her eyes as she spoke, I immediately knew this was not an ordinary lady. There was a very specific gentleness about the tone of her voice, not to mention the civility of her British accent. But there was something much more than that. There was an air about her, an echo behind her voice that spoke of intrigue, of someone who has seen many things, traveled to many places, experienced a lot. It was also in her eyes. The word kindness would not do her justice. It was more like genuine caring.
But I still wanted to tell her to go away. I had come here to be alone. I was in no mood to strike up a conversation. Small talk to a perfect stranger was definitely out of the question. I wanted to tell her to leave me alone. Disappear. Get out of here! Yet somehow, I couldn’t. I was frozen. Smitten by curiosity. I had this magnificent impulse to know who she was, where she’s been, what she was doing here, what her name was. Who was she?
“My name is Barbara - Barbara Bailey.” Again she spoke and as I looked at her more closely, for the first time I realized she was a mature woman in her sixties. Her hair was light gray, almost white, but if the maxim that the Sixties are the new Fifties is true, then she was the perfect example. Her face exuded softness and youth. Her hair was fun, playful, and yet the way she was sitting was dignified, as if she belonged to an aristocratic family. But really it was her clothes that gave her away. She was dressed impeccably. The lavender blouse accented by a gorgeous white sweater wrapped around her shoulders, which matched to perfection her skirt and her beautiful handmade Italian open-toe shoes, sent a message of quiet elegance. Her simple yet sophisticated jewelry indicated wealth, yet they were all complements to the awesome, charismatic presence of this perfect stranger.
“Hello. I am pleased to meet you. My name is Jack Kinsley. For how long were you sitting here before you decided to let me know you were here?”
“Not very long. I was just waiting for the best moment to introduce myself. I am not in town very often, and every time I come back to visit, I make it a point to come and sit here on this particular bench for a while. The view from this bench is magnificent,” said Mrs. Bailey.
“Why? I mean, why do you come into town and why this park?” I asked, realizing the eagerness of my impertinent questioning. But taking into consideration that she had invaded my bench in the first place, I figured that I had the right to ask.
“My family used to do business here a long time ago and I come to visit old friends at least once a year, sometimes twice a year,” replied Mrs. Bailey, staring upstream all the way to where the river disappeared into the horizon. “I’ve spent many hours sitting here. Sometimes reading. Sometimes thinking. Most of the time just taking in the absolutely gorgeous scenery of this beautiful place.” As she finished answering my questions, she slowly turned towards me and looking straight into my eyes she asked, “And what about you, Mr. Kingsley? What brings you to New Eden Park? Do you come here often?”
That’s when I remembered that I didn’t exactly know why I had come to the park in the first place. I just had to come. I didn’t know if I really wanted to get into this with Mrs. Bailey, but before I knew it, I was answering her, feeling somewhat intimidated. “I used to come here just about every day when I was in high school. But I haven’t been back here for about twenty years. So, I guess the answer to your question is no - I don’t come here often.” I answered shortly; half wishing she wouldn’t ask me anything else.
“I am sorry, Mr. Kingsley. Excuse me. Maybe you would prefer if I left you to yourself.”
If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought that this woman was reading my mind. “No, no, it is quite alright, Mrs. Bailey. It was me who asked you in the first place, and if I may be perfectly honest with you, I guess I do welcome the conversation. I must confess to you that I really don’t know why I came here today. This morning when I woke up, I felt this huge urgency to visit here again, and so I came. I am still trying to work out the “why” details of my return to the park.” Almost immediately I felt a sense of relief.
“Sometimes we like to go back to places that make us feel good. Besides, parks are wonderful places. I often visit a park close to my house in London, and it fills me with a feeling of joy and freedom and peace. Maybe that is why you have decided to come back here to this park.”
As she was speaking, I felt I was listening to words that I hadn’t heard in ages: joy, peace, and freedom. All I spoke about for years was balance sheets, cash flow, incoming, outgoing, cost effective and no more money. “Maybe. I think it was more like trying to get away from problems and looking for….”
“Peace, joy, freedom, happiness,” she interrupted me. “I think I may know how you feel, Mr. Kingsley. I, too, know what it is like to want to get away from it all, looking for that perfect moment of harmony. That perfect balance,” she said in a knowledgeable but kind way.
“Well, I don’t know if I would call anything perfect, Mrs. Bailey. However, I would settle for simple harmony.” Man, if I could just have that, I would be happy. Health, love, wealth, and happiness - who wouldn’t like that kind of harmony?
“And why not perfect? Wouldn’t you like to dream about it, even if you didn’t think it was possible? Don’t you ever dream about having it all?” She was talking as if she was aware of something that I wasn’t. Her questions came across with a tone of certainty, rather than with a tone of questioning.
“Mrs. Bailey, pardon my incredulity, but to a man that just lost everything, harmony would be nice. I don’t know about having everything. “Having it all” sounds too far-fetched to me at this point in my life.” I felt upset. To talk about something like perfect harmony and happiness right now was off-putting to me.
I noticed Mrs. Bailey was looking away again staring into the horizon. She remained quiet for a few moments. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I came here to be alone. I just wanted to be by myself, and here I was talking about my affairs to somebody that I didn’t even know.
“You had to come back to where it all began,” Mrs. Bailey mused.
“And why do you say that?” I asked bewildered.
“I am so very sorry, Mr. Kingsley. I do not intend to upset you, but you should know you are not the only one who is struggling and feeling lost in the process of life’s unfolding. Many people feel this way. Many people will face hardships this very day. It would certainly be nice if these things never happened, but you know that this is something that we human beings experience. You might not understand things now, but perhaps you will later.” We both stared at each other. She was looking at me as if she understood my pain.
“How could you possibly know what I am going through?” I responded cynically. I did not really care what she thought of me. I didn’t know her.
She sighed and started to explain. “I don’t know if you remember when the local company Stanley & Stanley Inc. had to close some twenty years ago due to the floods, and about 8,000 local employees lost their jobs. My family owned that company. We lost everything because of a technicality in the insurance policy. We lost the other 10 subsidiaries that we had internationally, because the local plant was the supplier for the others. My father died shortly after that. My mother’s grief became intolerable and she died after my father. My older brother committed suicide. My husband left me when the money ran out. I thought I was going to lose my mind. At the time I couldn’t possibly imagine that later I would find meaning behind it all and come to realize that it doesn’t matter how bad things get, we can always rise from the ashes of tragic events. Suffice to say that the life that I now enjoy would never have occurred if it had not been for that seemingly awful experience.” Mrs. Bailey finished that sentence with a sigh of peace and gratitude.
I wondered for a moment if there was hope for me…if I would someday, somehow, come to understand what had happened to me, as well. “May I ask you a question, Mrs. Bailey?” I said cautiously.
She looked at me for a moment and said, “Absolutely.”
“How did you feel when you found out that you did not have any more money?”
“Petrified. Paralyzed. Mortified. But more than anything else, I felt alone. I thought that Richard, my ex-husband, and I, together, could take on anything and overcome it. However, it proved to be too much for him. One day, he had just had enough, and he left. I also learned that the real reason I was so afraid was not only because I was lacking money, but also because I didn’t have any idea whatsoever as to how money works, how it is made and how it is multiplied. As soon as I realized this, I remember clear as day, I began to shake uncontrollably. I thought I was going to have an emotional breakdown. I remember crying myself to sleep every night for weeks that turned into months. It was a very, very difficult time for me to say the least,” she said with sadness.
Mrs. Bailey’s words resonated in my mind. Her words were reverberating to my very core. I realized that she could be empathetic because of her own experience. I found myself wanting to ask her a thousand questions, but I knew that would take time that I didn’t have. I decided to ask her the big picture questions, without getting into too many details.
“How did you ever recover from something like that?” I asked.
“I don’t think we have the time to discuss something like that today, mainly because in a way one can’t completely recover from something like that ever. Whoever goes through an experience like that will never forget it. What I can tell you, however, is that one night I went to bed and I realized I had run out of tears - that I could not cry anymore. That night was the defining moment for me to come to grips with what had happened, and it was time to sink or swim, so to speak. I remember lying awake and staring out of my window into a moonlit sky, thinking and kind of praying simultaneously, to develop the resolve and the strength to find my way. The very next morning I received a call from one of my best friends in London to invite me to come and stay with her for a change of scenery and to clear my mind, and away I went. A door opened, and I walked through it. I do not know, Mr. Kingsley, what your beliefs are, or whether you have any, but what I have learned since that telephone call from my friend is that life has a special language that can only be understood when we finally arrive at a place where we decide to listen. This language that I am talking about is unique to each one of us. I could sit here for the next three days and counsel you as to what to do next. I can try to coach you and offer you advice. I could suggest you go on a pilgrimage to the Himalayas or to India to find yourself, but the truth of the matter is that the next step that you take will be the right one because it will be your step. The one thing that I know is that the consequences you are now experiencing need to happen because you have to have those experiences to move on in your life. The reason as to why I am telling you this is because in order for you to find your way, you first need to get lost. I know it sounds contradictory, Mr. Kingsley, and probably a little bit implausible, but that is the simplest way I can explain it to you. Well, let me ask you a question. How do you feel right now? What is going on in your head?”
I felt like this was my moment to come clean; to tell this woman, whomever she was, how I felt. I didn’t know her. It was safe. I could unload my personal burdens and tell this woman exactly how I felt…how I have felt for a long, long time. I have kept my problems and personal struggles to myself for so long. Maybe I am beginning to understand why Mrs. Bailey is here.
“Mrs. Bailey, I feel afraid, but then again I have felt afraid for so long that I don’t even remember when I was not afraid. I feel anxious, but most of the time I do not know why I feel anxious or about what. I feel unhappy most of the time. I feel unfulfilled. I feel that I have been striving for so long to make a huge success out of myself, that I have forgotten about the things that matter the most. I feel tired and exhausted. I feel like a ship sailing nowhere. I feel lost.”
“There. You said it,” replied Mrs. Bailey. “See, there is no set number as to how many negative emotions a human being feels before he or she realizes that there is something that is not quite working. The moment that you feel totally lost is the moment of truth. You know Mr. Kinsley, the purpose of my life began to come about when I didn’t know where to go and I had run out of options. When I was lost, not knowing where to go, was when I began to ask questions. I had to go through my own quiet desperation before finding my divine path to self-discovery. As soon as I arrived in London, many significant things and opportunities began to happen. It seemed there was a significant experience waiting for me at every corner. New people, new events, new circumstances and unexpected, exciting situations began to appear before me, to speak to me, to show me where to turn next. You will find your own path. You will find your Aladdin’s Lamp with your own Genie to guide you and tell you about the mystery of life and to lead you on your way to your truth and freedom. Don’t think, not even for a moment, that what you are going through right now is just a failed attempt at success. To the contrary. Now is when your true journey begins.”
“But Mrs. Bailey, how can you tell me this, when I am completely and totally broke? I have absolutely nothing.” I was mystified by her philosophical words. They weren’t exactly sound advice for me in my present position.
“You were the one that said you have been trying to succeed for the last twenty years, didn’t you?” asked Mrs. Bailey.
“Yes, yes I did say that.”
“Well, then let someone else show you how to do it, since it seems you have finally become tired of trying. All I am saying, Mr. Kingsley, is that sooner or later the truth of our lives is going to be revealed, and some of the time we are not going to like or understand how it is revealed to us. Sooner or later our dissatisfaction and unhappiness whether in relation to our business, choice of profession, wife or husband, place we live, friends or money is all going to catch up with us. When that moment comes we have two choices. We either continue to live our lives as they are and get sick and depressed, or we move on and change. The place where you now stand is a pretty good place to decide, don’t you think?” As she waited for my answer, I couldn’t help but think about my family, my wife, my children, and my future. The road ahead seemed like such an unknown that I was tempted to tell her to leave me so that I could sit here for awhile longer by myself. What I have to face is inevitable and I just want to bask in the sun a little longer first. Whatever I have to face can wait a little while longer. It can’t be any worse than what already is. Besides, whatever is going to happen with my life is going to have to happen. I am so tired of making wrong decisions.
“I am going to have to go very soon, Mr. Kingsley,” said Mrs. Bailey. “Before I go, I would like to say that I wasn’t supposed to be here today. I had scheduled tomorrow as my day to come by and spend some time here at the park. Nevertheless, when I was in the airplane this morning I began to have this inner notion to come today when I arrived. For whatever it is worth to you, I know better than to ignore those nudges that most people call intuition. So I came today. And I now know why I had to come today. Very soon, so will you. Life is a series of events that follow a perfect sequence, although to most people it seems like a series of chaotic circumstances all thrown together into one big mess. It takes awhile to understand, but when we figure it out, life becomes a totally different event. I don’t know if you have read the “Tempestuous Dreams” book series by Murphy Adams…”