The Jeweled Path by Karen Johnson

Author:Karen Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shambhala
Published: 2018-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

18 The Proof Is in the Pleasure

IT WAS A FEW MINUTES before ten, and The Tonight Show was about to start. After Star Trek, top rated in Hameed’s book, Johnny Carson came in a strong second. Hameed, Marie, and I enjoyed watching the shows together whenever we could; Faisal would join in when he was in town.

The four of us sauntered into the den, and Faisal settled himself comfortably on a pile of pillows on the floor while I stretched out on the couch. Hameed swept by the television, flicked it on, and took a seat on the couch. Forsaking his typical casual slouch, he perched like a rocket poised to take off. He then launched into an animated recap of that evening’s meeting, just adjourned.

“The Guidance was so active!” he began.

Catching the contagious spirit of our friend’s zeal, Faisal and I exchanged a nod of enjoyment and turned our attention back to Hameed to hear more.

“It was there in such a strong way. Amazing! The brilliancy was there for sure.” As he hunted for the right words, his cadence slowed. “I felt natural, efficient, and effective…I was also feeling very personal. The pearly presence was strong all night. But I also felt the sharp clarity of Diamond Guidance.”

I felt my body straighten with attention to match Hameed’s commanding posture. His eyes were like two glittering orbs. The light of the TV flickered on his skin as Johnny gesticulated in the background.

“I felt that the work with each person was easeful and spot-on. I felt really precise but simple…and ordinary in some way too.”

“Yeah,” Faisal inserted, then continued thoughtfully. “You know, Hameed, while you were working, I could see a point of light in your chest.”

I wondered what this bright point of light was. It had punctuated a variety of experiences along the way, but its meaning was still a mystery to us.

As the discussion pulled us into its gravity, Hameed reached over and in one swift, agile move, twisted a knob on the TV with the rubber tip of his rosewood crutch to turn down the sound. Marie chuckled. He had many uses for his wooden pal. We had heard many boyhood stories about it, including how Hameed would use his crutch to hit the ball in soccer games, much to the annoyance of the opposing team. Heated arguments always followed.

“You’re using it as your arm—that’s not fair.”

He would yell back, “It is my leg!”

“No, it isn’t! You are using your arm!”

“I always have to use my arm! The crutch is part of my leg!”

I saw this as a testament to his ability to come up with creative solutions to any problem.

Marie popped up from the couch and made a start toward the kitchen. “I’ll go make some tea,” she chirped.

“I’ll be in in a minute to help,” I said as she whisked by me.

Hameed continued his monologue without skipping a beat. “So it is not exactly a new state…” His brow furrowed in concentration. “That’s it!” he said with voltage.

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