Swami and I sat together on the porch swing. The June night was lit with a lovely moon. Ah, I had learned how to sigh big deep explosions of  release. Swami encouraged that. Tonight he looked magnificently powerful. He had one arm across the top of the swing and the other holding to the chain. The swing made a nice creaky sound as it carried us gently to and fro.

A cardinal lit on a bough in front of us. He seemed to be indicating an incoming message, looking at me intently. I looked at Swami, who spoke these words. “Vicki, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Oh, it’s something good. I know I give you a hard time, but I want you to wake before you die,” he said. “If not, you’ll just have to make a return trip, with no guarantees I’ll be here for you next time around.”

The swing continued to carry us back and forth inside the illusion.

“I waited a long time for you,” he said, as if he were admitting to a deeply-held secret.

“You did,” I said with wonderment and curiosity.

“Oh, yes, out of thousands of people I have met, you are the one I was waiting for. You were the only one capable of accepting nothing. Most people hold out for something, but not you.”

Was he pulling my leg? I honestly didn’t know.

“Look at it this way,” he said. “I moved into your house for a reason.”

True enough. I knew he always had purpose in what he did. So I said slowly, “You  moved in because I was capable of receiving nothing rather than something. Have I gotten it yet?’

“You have not only gotten it, but you are passing it along.”

I had to admit the truth. “I am not sure I am a Certified Teacher of Nothing, like you are,” I said.

He looked at me long and hard. Put both feet on the ground to stop the swing, then stood up. He reached over and put his arm gently around my shoulder. “Vicki,” he said, you know nothing better than anyone I have ever seen. And you have me to thank for that.”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and then gave him a raspberry. That was familiar ground.

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