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Authors: Esther and Jerry Hicks

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Talking with Solomon

S
ara, Seth, and Annette sat on the floor of the tree house waiting for Solomon to join them.

“We could swing while we wait,” Seth offered.

“Nah, I’m good,” Sara said.

“Me, too,” Annette agreed.

Sara’s mind was still racing. She had barely slept the night before and had barely noticed anything that had happened at school
today. A question had occurred to her that she just couldn’t wait to ask Annette.

“Did you say that your mother told you about us?”

“Yes.”

Sara wanted her to go on.

“She comes to me in my dreams. Not every night, just sometimes. Oh, there he is!” Annette jumped to her feet pointing up at
the sky.

Sara and Seth jumped up, too.

“He’s huge!” Annette exclaimed, as she watched Solomon circling in the sky above the tree house.

Sara and Seth looked at each other and grinned. It had been a long time since Solomon had made such a grand entrance. Sara
watched Annette and felt that familiar feeling of thrilled anticipation as Solomon circled closer and closer, down to the
tree house.

And then, plunk. Solomon landed on the railing.
Well, hello, my fine featherless friends. . . .

Annette squealed her delight.

How are you today, Miss Sara?
Solomon looked deeply into Sara’s eyes.

“Never better!” Sara felt wonderful.

That seems perfectly clear to me. And Seth?

“I’m good, Solomon. I’m very good.”

Yes, indeed. And, Annette, we are very happy that you have joined us. How are you today?

“I’m good, too, Solomon. And I’m so happy that you all have included me. I can’t believe how great this is. I feel so lucky.”

We all feel that way, Annette. It is wonderful to be together. We are birds of a feather, you know—and birds of a feather flock together!”

Annette laughed.

Sara, what would you say is the most significant thing you have come to know since we have been flocking together?
Solomon asked.

Annette and Seth laughed.

Sara looked at Solomon. Why was he asking such a big question of her? Why didn’t Solomon begin by explaining to Annette, in
the way he had explained to Sara and then to Seth? She had hoped that Solomon would show Annette how to fly, as he had shown
her, when she first met him, or Seth, when he first met him.

She squinted her eyes, trying to find the answer to this very big question. It seemed like there were so many important things
that she had learned from Solomon. So many things had happened in Sara’s life since meeting Solomon, and he had helped her
and Seth through so many situations, it didn’t seem possible to sift through all of that right now and decide the one most
significant thing.

“Solomon, I don’t—”

Sara,
Solomon interrupted,
I’ll give you a hint.
The way you know the thing that is most significant is that the emotion you feel around it is very, very strong.
So, if you can remember the most powerful emotions— you’ll discover what is most important.

“Do you mean good emotions or bad emotions?” Sara asked. This was fun. She loved learning from Solomon in this way.

I mean, good or bad. When the feeling is strong, whether it feels good or bad, it always means it is important. But often, it is easier for you to remember those powerful bad-feeling emotions. They are often the first indicator that something important is happening.

“So you’re saying that if I can remember the very worst thing that ever happened to me, or the very worst feelings that I
have ever felt, then I’ll know the thing that is most significant?”

That’s right.

“Well, Solomon, when you put it that way, it’s easy to answer. Because the worst that I have ever felt in my whole life was
when Jason and Billy shot you. And you were bleeding. And then you closed your eyes. And I thought you were dead.”

Annette winced and folded her arms tightly around herself.

Sara, I was dead!
Solomon said dramatically.
At least in the way you mortals look at it. Your father buried my rumpled pile of moth-eaten feathers in the backyard. Don’t you remember?

A blast of laughter shot out of Sara’s mouth. Solomon’s blatant disrespect for death had caught her off guard. And sitting
there, talking with someone about their own death, while they were, in this moment, so very much alive, somehow took the sting
out of this solemn subject.

Yes, I foresee many joyful conversations about death ahead of the three of you.

Sara, Seth, and Annette all laughed hard.

“Solomon, you sure do have a strange perspective about things.”

Me, have a strange perspective? I think it is you mortals who have the strange perspective. Think about it: Every one of you knew, when you came into these wonderful physical bodies, that you would be only temporary tenants in them. And every one of you, even now, understands that you will not remain permanently in them. You all believe that you will die, for you know of none who have not. And yet you insist on worrying about death and pushing against it. You do not see it as the beautiful, normal, miraculous thing that it is. Instead, you see it as something unwanted and hated; you see it as a penalty. And when you find someone within your society that you truly despise, you give them the “death penalty.” It is no wonder you are confused about this subject.

The three of them stared silently at Solomon. He was right. Not one of them knew anyone who didn’t openly fear the idea of
death. It was a solemn, uncomfortable subject.

Most people are so afraid of death that they do not allow themselves to live. And that is particularly unfortunate, since there is no such thing as death. There is only life and more life.

“I want to know everything, just the way you do, Solomon,” Sara said.

Well, Sara, you already do know. I’m just here to help you remember it all more clearly. You will be remembering one thing at a time, and all in good time. The three of you are doing extremely well in your remembering of who you are.

Well, I’m off. You kids have a good time swinging on your rope. Good day!
Solomon lifted powerfully into the sky and was gone.

Annette looked at her two new friends. She felt happier than she could ever remember feeling. “My mother was right,” she said.
“You do know about death.”

“We know,” Sara said. “We just have to keep remembering that we know.”

Withdrawing Negative Attention

S
ara left her jacket on the cement pilings at the end of the Main Street bridge and climbed out into her “leaning perch,” basking
in the warmth of the Saturday-afternoon sun. She loved this place, and she loved this river. Sara loved this river more than
just about anybody had ever loved it. She loved it in the spring, when it nearly overflowed its banks and lapped up over the
crossing log that she loved to scurry across. She loved it in the winter, when ice crept from the edges toward the center
until the icy water silently flowed beneath the snow-covered ice. She loved it in the summer, when it was warm enough that
you could roll up your pants and wade in the shallow parts of it. And she loved it in the fall, like now, when beautiful leaves
made colorful rafts, floating downstream to places unknown.

Sara often pretended that she was small enough, like Thumbelina, her favorite character from bedtime storybooks, to ride the
tiny leaf raft and discover the wonderful and unknown worlds that lay between her small mountain town and the giant ocean
downstream. She propped her chin on her knees, thought about such a ride, and smiled.

Mother would just love that,
she thought sarcastically, remembering how often her mom had voiced her concern about Sara’s obsession for this river. Her
pleasant thoughts about the river disappeared as she remembered her mother’s irrational concern.

Parents are such worrywarts,
she thought.
They just worry about everything, when really there’s nothing to worry about at all.

Sara remembered her amazing encounter with this river. She always felt such a strange mix of feelings when she recalled falling
off the crossing log, or rather being knocked off the crossing log by a big overeager dog. In the short time that she was
actually in the water, she had moved from sheer terror to a sort of relaxed resignation that she probably was going to drown,
to the amazed wonder at the beauty of the river as she had floated on her back for miles downstream, to the triumphant realization
that, no matter what, all really was well in her life. Sara knew that her strange ride on that fantastic river had somehow
changed her. It was the beginning of her understanding that all really was well.

“Sara! Sara! Sara!”

Sara was jolted by the sound of her little brother’s voice.

“Did you hear that Samuel Morris almost drowned in the river? Sara! Sara! Did you hear?” Jason shouted as he ran toward her.

Sara crawled back off of her leaning perch, watching her frantic little brother running toward her and holding his hat on
at the same time.

“Samuel?” Sara said, under her breath. “Who is Samuel Morris? Oh no,” she gasped, as she began putting it all together in
her mind.
That’s Seth’s little brother.

“How do you know that? Who told you? Where is he? Is he all right?” Sara’s questions came in such a constant stream that Jason
couldn’t answer one before the next one was blurted out on top of it.

“They were talking about it over at Pete’s Drugstore.”

“Well, tell me!” Sara shouted angrily, grabbing Jason’s wrist and looking him hard in the face. “What did they say?”

“I don’t know!” Jason shouted back, yanking his arm back defensively. “Geez, Sara, what’s it to you?”

“I’m sorry, Jason, I didn’t mean to grab you. I mean . . .” Sara’s voice trailed off. She wasn’t about to explain to her little
brother the wonderful friendship that she had discovered with Seth, Samuel’s big brother. She couldn’t explain that in a hundred
years of trying. And anyway, this wasn’t the time to begin it. “Just tell me what you heard.”

Jason looked stubborn. He didn’t like the way Sara often tried to boss him around, and he liked knowing something that she
wanted to know. It made him feel powerful.

“Please, Jason, what did you hear? Please tell me!”

“Just that this stupid little kid had tried to build a raft, and he was trying to float down the creek, but when the creek
dumped into the river, the raft turned over and he fell off, and the current was too swift for him. Oh, and something about
his brother pulling him out just in time.”

Seth!
Sara thought. “Is he . . . are they all right?”

“I don’t know, Sara. That’s all I know.” Jason ran off toward home.

Sara stood in the middle of the bridge, not knowing what to do next. Should she go to Seth’s house and just knock on the door?
That seemed bold. She had never been inside of his house.
Maybe I’ll just walk past and see what’s happening there.
She turned the corner and headed toward Seth’s home.

The street looked pretty much like it always looked. Sara couldn’t see anyone; there were no cars around, and no people either.
The house looked quiet, as usual. Nothing seemed to be stirring anywhere.

Sara’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. She wanted to find her friend and feel his reassurance that everything was all
right, but she didn’t know where to go. She rarely saw Seth on the weekends. She didn’t know what to do. Sara began running
toward the drugstore. Maybe they would still be talking about it. Maybe someone there would know what happened.

Sara blasted through the front door of the drugstore, which was in an old, dilapidated building. The familiar smell of medicines
and perfumes, combined with that of hamburgers and onions cooking on the grill, greeted her. She saw a handful of people sitting
at the soda fountain, chatting eagerly with each other about something. She hid behind the magazine stand, so as to not be
detected, and moved as close as she dared, straining her ears to hear.

“Stupid kids. They just don’t seem to understand the dangerous currents of that river. They think it’s a playground, only
there to entertain them.” Sara heard an elderly woman complaining.

“Well, that’s just the way kids are these days, you know. They think everything is a game. You can hardly get them to work
anymore,” Pete, the owner, said, wiping the counter with a stained and greasy-looking rag as he spoke.

Sara winced a little as she listened.
C’mon,
she thought.
What happened? Get to what happened.

“Well, this isn’t the first kid to nearly drown in that river. Didn’t the Henderson girl nearly drown, too? What’s her name?
Sara, isn’t it? I heard that she fell in and nearly drowned. Somebody should do something about those kids playing on the
river. They just shouldn’t be allowed to do that.”

Sara shrank behind the magazine rack. Her heart began to pound so hard she was afraid they would hear it. She wanted to run
and hide, but there was nowhere to go. She would just die if they caught her hiding there.

“Her mother told me that she had told that girl to stay away from that river a thousand times, but it didn’t do any good.
I still see her dangling out over the river from time to time. Well, I’ll tell you, if they were my kids, they wouldn’t be
playing around the river. I’d give ’em plenty of things to do. I would keep ’em so busy they wouldn’t have time to be messin’
around that river, and if they didn’t mind me, well, I’ll just tell you, they’d
be
a-mindin’ me,” a great big woman said.

Sara looked out her from her hiding place.
If I were your kid, I’d just build a raft and float as far away from you as possible,
Sara thought.
Away from all of you. You’re just mean, awful people who don’t know anything.

The front door banged open, and three men came in.

“They’ll be all right,” Sara heard one of them say. “The older one got pretty cut up on a piece of barbed wire, but it didn’t
look too bad. He’ll probably be all right—if he doesn’t bleed to death on the way.”

Sara’s heart jumped into her throat.
Seth!
she thought. Her eyes filled with tears. She felt as though she couldn’t stand it another minute.

“He’s a strong swimmer, that kid. I mean, I’d of thought twice before jumping in there. That’s a mean current.”

“Did the doc stitch him up?”

“Doc’s outta town. Had to drive ’em over to the hospital in Fowlerville.”

Hospital! Seth’s in the hospital!
Sara couldn’t stand another minute of it. She ran from behind the magazine rack and flew out the door. No one noticed her
at all. She ran down the street with tears streaming down her face. She could barely remember a more awful moment in her life.

She ran across the Main Street Bridge, down the river trail, down the secret paths that she and Seth had made, and up Seth’s
wonderful tree ladder to the tree house. Being in their secret place, knowing that he was hurt and probably scared to death,
where she couldn’t see him or soothe him or help him, was just the most awful thing that Sara could even think of. She put
her face into her hands and cried and cried and cried.

“Solomon, Solomon. Where are you, Solomon? I need you. I need you to help Seth. Solomon, where are you?”

Solomon was circling high above the tree house. Sara opened her eyes and squinted up at the sky, but her eyes were so clouded
with tears that she could hardly see anything at all. She wiped her face on her sleeve and sniffed to try to clear her nose.
Her head felt all stuffy. No air would pass through her nose at all. It had been a long time since Sara had cried so hard
that she felt like this. It did not feel good.

But seeing Solomon circling in the sky over her gave her an immediate feeling of relief.

Sara had learned a great deal from this wonderful magical owl. And the most important thing that she had learned from him
was about the powerful
Law of Attraction. A law more important than all other laws combined
, Solomon had explained.
A law that says, “That which is like unto itself is drawn.”

Sara knew that the terrible way that she felt right now was not, in any way, a match to the feeling of well-being that Solomon
was about. And so she knew that when she was feeling this awful, Solomon couldn’t help her, couldn’t even be with her—for
Solomon was a teacher of well-being.

Sara sat up straighter and pulled the rubber band out of her hair that was holding her ponytail. She held the rubber band
with her teeth, combed her fingers through her hair, and tied her ponytail again with the rubber band. She wiped her face
on her sleeve, breathed deeply, and tried to find some thoughts of well-being, as Solomon had taught her so many times before.
Sara knew that in order to return to her feeling of well-being, she must release these traumatic thoughts and replace them
with good-feeling thoughts. But this wasn’t an easy thing to do. Not when your best friend in the whole world was in trouble.

Sara watched as Solomon circled in the sky. His big wings flapped powerfully as he would climb up, up, up, and then he would
glide softly down, down, down. Simply by watching his mesmerizing circles, Sara began to feel better, almost tranquil—and
then Solomon dropped softly onto the platform beside her.

All is well, sweet Sara,
Solomon began.

“Solomon, thank you for coming. Samuel fell in the river, and Seth saved him, but I think Seth is hurt, and I don’t know about
Samuel.”

Solomon listened as Sara explained.

Then Sara caught herself, remembering that she didn’t have to explain any of this to Solomon. For Solomon, Sara had come to
know, knew about everything. And surely he would know about Seth. For Sara, Seth, and Solomon were the very best of friends.

It seems you were swept up in the trauma of the drugstore crowd, Sara. Have you forgotten that well-being abounds?

Sara looked at Solomon. “Oh yeah, I guess I did,” she said, softly, feeling embarrassed.

Sara, don’t be hard on yourself. It’s a normal human thing to do, to let the reality of the moment that you are observing set the tone for the way that you are feeling.
When someone you love experiences something that you do not want for him or her, it is normal to feel bad. But remember, Sara, you are one who offers unconditional love. And one who understands and lives unconditional love is able to feel good under all conditions.

Sara smiled as she recalled the many hours she and Solomon and Seth had talked about unconditional love. And how it’s easy
to feel good, or to feel love toward someone or something when everything is going well, but the true test of unconditional
love is to let it flow completely through you even when things do not appear to be going well.

Seth and his brother are both just fine, Sara. And I suspect the wounds from the barbed wire will mend rather easily. But the wounds that a worrisome town, or frightened and concerned parents, will inflict, well, those can be the more troubling ones.

Sara knew exactly what Solomon meant. She had experienced a pretty good dose of that herself as she was hiding behind the
magazine rack in the drugstore.

You’ll be a big help there, Sara.

“What do you mean?”

You will be one person, undoubtedly the only person, who will not dramatize the negative experience. You will be the one stable person in Seth’s life who will stand before him knowing completely the well-being of his experience.

Sara felt a strong river of guilt wash through her, for she had not been maintaining her knowledge of Seth’s well-being. She
had easily been swept away in the current of fear and trauma.

Don’t feel badly about your worrisome thoughts, Sara. Your fear only points out your tremendous love for your friend. But you found your balance quickly. In fact, you are stronger in your knowledge right now than you would have been if you had not lost your footing for a time. For your desire to hold your balance is much stronger now.

Sara felt so much better!

Sara, show your love to your friend by giving no attention at all to Seth’s injuries.

“But Solomon, won’t he feel like I’ve abandoned him?”

Sara, I am not suggesting that you withdraw your attention from your friend—only withdraw your negative attention. Give Seth your attention, but only focus on aspects of his experience that feel good to you while you focus on them.

I believe that very much good will come from this, Sara. All is well, sweet girl. I’ll talk with you later.

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