I wake at 7:04am. The sun is up and I feel rested. How did that happen? I'm not sure. The singing lesson with Carol went well yesterday. With each session I get a bit more freedom, a noticeable increase in skill. Making sounds for the sake of it can be relaxing. I've never enjoy the process more than I do now. I trust that we are being lead to something beautiful.

Since I've been back from Europe, something inside me has changed. Something deep and reflexive has been waking up: an inner knowing, almost as if some sort of internal guidance system has kicked in. I feel pulled, as if a magnet is acting upon me. It started in Frankfurt, during a warm, sunny afternoon in April. It felt as if I were being guided by my father. At one point I felt the steady pressure of his thirty-seven year old hand in mine. "Don't let go of me okay?" I hear him imploring.

We enter the building from an underground concourse on the opposite side of the street from the main entrance. "I don't want to go down there." my mother says. "We are going in and we are going this way." I say with increasing certainly and determination. Down the stairs we go into a large underground passage way. I feel like an animal hot on the trail of its quarry. "Why do you want to go here?" my mother still resisting and trailing a bit behind. "I don't know. All I know is that I must get to where the trains are."