“Relax,”…as she said it, something let go and for a moment I felt suspended between panic and trembling pleasure. If I could stay steady, if I could hold back the fear, maybe the pleasure would take me…
Panic was rising again, but I felt a center in it. Without thinking, I stepped to the edge of the rock, waited for trough and dove in.
What a difference from last June. I can face these things without holding them back, even though the old panic is inches away. This simple witnessing, this purusha, is our truest strength. I have to write it here again: last night I faced my dreams without running. They were as vivid as the ocean itself. The ocean is becoming my ally.
 Every week, it seems, some new guru or therapy comes to town. The congregation wanders from one tent revival to the next. I think all this interest in “consciousness” is nothing but diversion and band-aids.
All life is “an improvisation,” he said. If the past were as real as I made it out to be, we would be doing a tired old dance…”The future is wide open.” 
These twp aspects, like the Western and Eastern symbols of eternity-one linear, the other circular. Part of me senses he relentless beat at the heart of things, the drums of the march, all of us headed toward some mysterious consummation. But there is also the sense that we are going nowhere. Being is so rich. On a day like this, who needs to go anywhere.
Out of one mind. We must live in this forest of symbols with all our wit and senses. Fear reminds us that we have forgotten who the world is.
Amazing we have waited so long for these changes. The old mystics were caught in the hypnosis of their times.
In emptiness there is nothing but surprise.
We need all our wit and senses. In this voyage through, every demon might dress like an angel. 
That concludes this book.