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Chapter 4

As I sat on the plane to Quebec, I realized I wouldn’t be enjoying all the glorious French food there—I’d be dining on crunchy salads and carrot juices and fresh fruit and colloidal minerals. A part of me grew restless and stubborn at the thought; yet I reminded myself I had only a month, and it was the least I could do to support myself.

As Don and I leisurely strolled the quiet, picturesque streets of Quebec, I felt a heightened awareness—my senses seemed so alive and acute. The trees appeared somehow more vibrant, and the smells from the street cafés so varied and full. The cobblestones were rounded from years of people and carriages and cars, and the clouds seemed to stand out vividly against the crisp blue sky. I felt so blessed just to be able to look and smell and feel—even the biting wind seemed somehow rare. It was almost as if my soul itself was tasting life as it really is.

A hush fell over me. Once again time seemed to stop. I found myself resting in a sharp stillness that was somehow both utterly unmoving and scintillatingly alive. The awareness that I was being “guided” arose strongly from within. Outwardly I must have appeared pensive and quiet, but inwardly I was near tears with gratitude for this knowing revealing itself so powerfully.

I looked back at Don; I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, but I noticed he seemed unusually quiet. When I probed deeper, Don admitted that he didn’t want to share his feelings with me as he knew it was essential for me to be with people who would support me positively with the certainty that I would heal, yet he had to admit that he was scared.

“It just seems so big . . .”

Long pause . . .

Quietly I answered, “It is big.”

I didn’t know what else to say. He’d stated the obvious, but somehow the obvious seemed at once incomprehensible and yet so stupidly apparent.

Another long pause . . .

Then I said, “I sometimes get scared, too. And I have to remind myself to be open and trust at those times. No use fighting it. I wish I could somehow explain to you this quiet certainty that keeps coming up from inside, but somehow no matter how worried my mind and personality seem to get at times, something deeper—from within—seems to know different. And this knowing is what is carrying me through this extraordinary journey. So, let’s just enjoy our time here, it’s such a romantic city.” We slipped into a café, and I encouraged him to enjoy the lovely French cuisine, even though I was only eating salad. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Day by day the peace deepened, and after three or four days in Quebec I knew it was time to move on. To what, I still didn’t know, but something inside seemed to be urging me onward.