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But this thing where your gut is completely contracted, you’ve pushed all the air out, and then you breathe the Light in and out until you see that all there is is Light: that might work, right?
There’s gotta be some way for us to all find each other!
There’s just gotta be!
But I can’t seem to stop crumpling in upon myself! Maybe if I walk around chanting silently from the inside out: “What should I do? What should I do? Oh Great God, Oh, what should I do?!” Maybe that would help.
Bartleby Willard, having pretended to build Pure Love in fictional factories around the daydreamscape, now pretends to have pushed and pulled the Pure Love out into the physical/mental whatever-this-life-is, where he pretends to sell the Pure Love at a fair and honest price.
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