“My shaman-priestess friend, Cyndi, calls while I’m mid-angst. She radiates calm and cool the way I secrete sweat on an uphill hike: out of every pore. The timbre of her voice soothes my self-reproach, as she reminds me that everything happens on purpose.
SweetP chose me and entrusted herself to Joie’s care, Cyndi assures me. “Tune in with her,” she advises, “ask her what she has to say about your encounter.” I sidle into the next room, out of my husband’s earshot, before telling Cyndi that, yes, of course, I’ll have a chat with my dead pigeon friend. Why not? If a swarm of bees can inspire a book, surely, I have bandwidth for a word of wisdom from a pigeon spirit.”
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