Stalking Vol 2 The Bridge of Reason
only the backrest. The week after that I forgot to re-fluff it. Ultimately, the number of times I
forgot to properly place and/or fluff the pillow grew to embarrassing proportions.
Overall, in spite of Bonnie fulfilling many of her student’s expectations about New Age
teaching, such as holding lessons and meditations while burning candles and incense, those who
came to hear her on a part-time basis missed the progression of what I perceived as aggression in
her lessons. Including those who had experiences with the white robed soft spoken, teachers of
the mystical way, this was their cue to be affronted by something and not return.
Out of about 150 people who had come to hear her in the first four months—an excellent
turnout of twenty or so people that filled her downstairs living room every Saturday—there
remained only seven regulars to face the first recognizable stalking lesson upon our small group:
Bonnie opened her eyes at the beginning of a channel, and said, "Who are we?"
Those who did not venture a guess were forced to participate, as she gazed from one person
to the next, repeating the question each time. When no one bothered to ask Kha-lib why he was
doing this, Kha- lib said, "Do not guess about anything. Be certain about even seemingly
unimportant decisions, otherwise your commitment to them will lack conviction. I n time, you
must be willing to make a stand and fall on that spot."
The second overt lesson was based on our regular queries about money matters, such as how
long a car or old washing machine would last. Kha- lib put an end to these by saying, "You need
not concern yourself with funds. In the near future, she (Bonnie) will receive a large sum of
money—a relative's legacy to all who are involved in our quest. She will distribute this to sustain
you during your lessons. You need to discuss what to do with it before it arrives."
Though there really was a source of large funds in her distant family, Bonnie said she
believed the legacy was knowledge.
As our suspicion and disappointment grew with every empty mail call, K ha-lib responded to
our guarded queries by increasing the amount of wealth we were about to receive. Still, after a
few weeks Rachel asked Kha-lib what the problem was.
"A point of change has yet to occur," he said, "which will route the funds to her." Days later,
Rachel asked him if this point of change had happened; she would call the rest of the group and
let them know.
"Your benefactor has not died, but he soon will," Kha- lib told her; by early evening, we
were all eagerly anticipating the death of a stranger…
A cabbie cutting through traffic, to arrive at the red light at Georgia Street seconds sooner
than us, refocused me on the lush scenery of the park giving way to the Coal Harbor Marina, and
the narrow vista of office buildings beyond. I also noticed that the sense of fluidity had settled in
deeply—a feeling that had happened a few times since I had met Bonnie, and a few times before
I knew her, most often in dire circumstances. At these times, I had put the experience down to a
reflex action, so that I did not cloud my choices with emotion. Bonnie and I had since talked
about these instances of what she called heightened awareness; I now accepted that something
was about to happen that required my full attention.
This would be something more than Bonnie having parked, exited the car, and left me
sitting alone, musing over my sense of fluidity.
The Minimal Chance