Epilogue/Amnesia Factor

Epilogue

October 27, 1974

Dearest Lenora,

Welcome back, strangers! Harvest time, pumpkins transforming into jack-o-Ianterns, and perky squirrels gathering up nuts, tell us it's time to settle back and relax and enjoy Nature's preparations for the winter season. Is not this remarkable changing 'stage' a truly fantastic creation? Yet one discovers how easy it is to become totally immersed (yea, trapped) in "outer" creativity. And how easy it is to become overly fascinated by "outer" forces, such as psychic energies and unseen phenomena. When will we learn the final "lesson," that the wisest of the wisefirst completes the task of turning within, of reaching and attuning to and becoming one with the Source within. Then, it has been promised, "All these 'things' shall be added unto you." The clarity of the teachings of Maharishi include a simile which states: 'A wise man, one who would conquer the whole kingdom, does not waste his time and energies conquering the outlying areas and valuable mines therein. He proceeds via the qUickest, shortest route to the fort in the center of the kingdom, captures that, ane' all the mines are then his.'

Am planning to slip once more into Nature's magic mountains, before trout season ends. Nature is a wellspring of soothing waters, found by those who learn to listen to the silent language and music of burbling brooks and green forests. I've finally learned that mere words won't substitute for the experience, and the same goes for just writing about fishing trips! And double for trying to describe the bliss, the relaxing peace, the new life resulting from that TM.

My best regards to your patient hubby and your four good looking children. And take extra good care of yourself, sweet oracle.

God bless you forever.

Vaya con Dios,

Dad

P. S. Please tell Herod and Harold they're welcome to come along, but only on the condition that they bait their own hooks! Am well aware of their fishing abilities. And incidentally, they sent me another poem. Will it ever end?

RAINBOW'S END Searching, searching, ever outward, Along deep ancient treks in Time; An endless pace to find a trace Of primal Cause, and life sublime. Vast arching streams of energies, The surging, heaving tides of Space; Hurled on and down the celestial Round, To try to glimpse the Creator's Face. Through vortex spirals and needle points, Dimensions spanned with burning eyes; Hope dimming as a flickering fire, Time held no clue, Space no surprise. The first faint hint that one can find Is found within reflecttve mind; Gaze upon yon mirror's image, Be still, and let life's spring unwind. The Priceless Jewel, for which all seek, Cannot be found on vector's line; But there, at subtle rainbow's end, Is Love eternal, the Spark Divine.

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