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Imagine being in a waterfall.  Being able to relax—while all around, the rush of water tumbling over rocks,

the impact creates mist that sweeps me up, and I am carried by this turmoil.  We are part of it, like it or not!  I imagine I have time to feel, time to accept, “This is experience!”  Time to stop fighting, resisting, or trying to escape.

It carries me and I can float no matter how loudly turmoil boils and hisses; for this moment, I am able to relax and feel the sunlight sparkle on my fingertips.  I take in a breath;  I stretch and wiggle all my toes in this fresh water, breathing out.  Now.  The image changes as I pause to breathe.  There is no rush.  The flowing water slows down and I drop softly into quiet.  Instead of slamming into vicious unforgiving rocks where I feared I would be torn apart, I do fall gently into this, a sunlit pool.

I am on a sunny bank where I am able to look down through deep dark, green-tinted clear water to where a fish is visible, just barely visible, and safe in shadow from a rock.  It swims out; its shiny scales catch and throw back little glitters to me; it is not afraid of me.  For an instant, I experience this, and with a tail-flick, I move on.  It’s Step Eleven.

Now I can hear birds and children playing in the meadow where there is a garden party going on.  It is a buffet for me.  I dry off, pull on some clothes and go up to take a look.  It is safe.  All are invited; I am warmly welcomed if I feel inclined to join the group, but I am appreciated anyway if I just want to watch.  No one is afraid of me.

Kathleen S. Near Mt. Shasta, Northern California.

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