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I sit at the counter and regard the wisps of steam rising from my coffee. I look out the window to see the cars and pedestrians passing by as they always have, each man and each woman pressing toward their perceived obligations and wants. I think: how many morning cups of coffee has it been so far in this life of mine? A whole life measured in cups of coffee! How many has it been? Thousands upon thousands. With some effort I recall other cups of coffee, other cafes, other lunch counters. Other times I’ve thought back on my life.

I find two histories, two parallel lives. There is what has happened, the innumerable events of my life, most of them lost to my consciousness, but somehow incorporated into my very flesh.Β  And then there is the history of a nameless entity who is also me, who is more than me. Call it my soul, my essence, my inner mind. Call it the part of me that seeks peace, the part that yearns for unity with the world outside the window.

I raise the coffee cup to my lips. Ah, another morning! Glory hallelujah!

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