Now I know, but I used to look for these exact factors, matchy-matchy, to confirm that the heavens were placing me with my next assignment.

If I were to refuse it, like on the TV show Get Smart in the 1960s, the secret message describing my mission, always ended with the entreaty “If you should choose to accept it.”

This is the pattern of a decades-long friendship with a wounded healer that I’m writing about in my memoir Greetings from WORLDS — really a road trip to hell and back.

Next I’d like to spend more time describing the self-designed respite that got me out of the collosal sinkhole that I didn’t even know I was in.