I am about to speak to a crowd. I am talking to the person who will introduce me. I play with the energy of her and split her open down the front. Out steps a light being from the shell that was her body. She turns and picks up the shell and throws it onto a heap of other bodies. The heap resembles a slithering mass of humanity, something out of Dante’s Inferno. I say to her, No. You can take your body with you into Joy. You don’t have to leave it behind.
Then we set up three wash tubs. They were the kind that my grandmother used when she washed the clothes in the basement. There was a ringer and you cranked with a handle. And that is what we used. The first tub was filled with Peace. We dipped our bodies into the tub like they were garments, long underwear overused from the lengthy winter. We then put them through the ringer to remove any excess Peace. Then we place our bodies into the second tub, which was filled with Love. And we rang out the excess Love from our bodies. There was really nothing left to do after this, because Love is all there is. But we decided to continue on anyway. The final dip in the third tub was the dip in Joy. We washed our bodies in Joy and then rang out the excess and held them up to admire them. Then we stepped into our long underwear bodies and zipped them up in front. They felt so good. We and our bodies are Joyful. We could dip our bodies into anything, even beauty.