Near Grand Rapids

7/26/07. In a Day's Inn off I80. Spent the afternoon— after cruising the streets of Lawrence, wanted to see what that college town looked like, and it looks like Bozeman!— headed west on I70, listening to Eckhart Tolle talk about three ways to get into the here and now: 1) feel your way into sensing your "inner body," the aliveness in it: 2) observe how all sound comes out of silence, and 3) non-resistance: e.g., so you're stuck in a traffic jam; so what!

I hadn't heard him before, and there's something about the way his voice sounds, the spaces between his words as he says them that comes from the same place as the spaces between his words on the page. All of which make me tend to take him very very seriously as an author who does live his teachings. By practicing all three ways of moving into "the Presence," as he calls it, simultaneously, I found that I did not get tired driving, and that the time "flew by"—or rather, that it just didn't matter anymore! I actually had to make myself stop when it got dark tonight. Very unlike me. Usually after four hours driving, I have to roll the window up and down over and over again to stay awake.

This morning, did a channelling session with Jennifer, at which of course, the Big Guy, Jeff, came in right away and told both of us that we were way too serious about "trying to get in touch" with him or anyone else that's supposedly "dead." Says he's right here. That anytime he pops into my mind it's because he's getting in touch with me.

Told me that this organizational job I did to get this tour rolling was "the last time you'll have to do that." That now I can just relax and allow whatever happens to happen! Which is what I planned on anyway, but sure didn't want to tell him that, or he'd just say there I was again, planning something rather than allowing . . .

So the Eckhard Tolle CD was perfect for the occasion of this day, through the green rolling hills of eastern Kansas, recently blessed with plenty of rain. Tonight, just about to Ogalala, Nebraska where I turn off on Rte 28 and head northwest into Wyoming, first to Casper, where I stay the night with my dear frined George and his two young sons. He lost his wife and the sons, their mother not even two years ago to cancer.

Heartache everywhere in this achingly beautiful land.