Kundalini and the Art of Being ... Amy and Lisa weren’t quite sure where they were going onwards
from there. Amy had an aunt in Portland, Oregon, whom she was
thinking of visiting. I mentioned that I was living in nearby Eugene
and she suggested maybe they could stop by and say hello, if they
happened to pass through the area sometime later.
A few days later, as we were sadly taking down our tents and
packing up our belongings to leave the gathering and head back
home, Christo said, “Hey, I should give those two girls our phone
number before we go.” I had pretty much forgotten about Amy and
Lisa by then, considering our fairly brief encounter. “Sure,” I said. “If
you want to, go ahead and we’ll wait here for you.”
He ran off to the kitchen where we’d worked with them a few
days before, hoping they might be there. Soon he came back, saying
that they’d said goodbye, and hoped to see us in Eugene at some
point. Little could I have realized at the time the effect that my broth-
er’s simple action would have on the future course of my life.