I’m with Daddy and Mother. They have come to see me. I look directly into their faces and feel immediately their bodily presence. I do not yield to them or defer to their power or let them poison the environment.

I’m at First Baptist Church and attend some kind of non-Sunday service led by some young guys who know their routines. I am not impressed or threatened by them. When it’s over and everybody leaves, I don’t have to speak to them or justify myself. I just leave.

Outside I notice some medium-sized, rather odd sculptures in very diverse media—one is a setting of molten forms of porcelain, very deep crimson.

I am now in Colorado pulling down my large hiking fedora. I manage the peril of crossing some traffic and get into the mountains. The heights become daunting as we climb (I am not alone), but there is a vast beckoning radiance ahead at the turn.