The Church of Spiritual Enlightenment, ADVANCED COUNSELING SERVICES, INC.
(On being a spiritual counselor)
Once again the sky refreshed the earth. The desert grew green and verdant, dust clouds tamed by the unrelenting caress of capricious clouds, brimming with life-giving rainwater. Somewhere, amidst all of that nature...
Abruptly, it came to me that I was still sitting in the counselor's chair.
I looked out of the window, and thought I'd better write up this session. Another client-seeker was due any minute, and he'd have driven all the way from Newport, up the 55, probably still clogged with rushing commuters, on their way home from work. I hoped we wouldn't have to spend a lot of time on rain-traffic-freeway upsets ...
Being a spiritual counselor is a simply marvelous experience. Yeah, it's true, you have dues to pay, like cultic organizations bent on your personal demise and destruction, minor civic functionaries demanding their pound of flesh, client-seekers who want to "make a deal," staff members who swear they don't get enough time in the client-seeker chair (and who probably don't), rumor and gossip about your personal life, musty skeletons from fifteen years ago being trotted out to demean and humble you ...
Oh, the list is long and boring. But then there are the rewards. The sheer pleasure of the competent application of a technology you have pursued since your youth is truly unparalleled.
A client-seeker, glowing, nay, radiating with new awareness and renewed vigor, exclaims to others in the reception area what she has gained from her lower level two release, and then thanks her counselor.
Thomas Q. Doubter bolts upright in his chair, eyes brimming with marvel and wonderment stating the classic line, "... but, I never looked at it like that...", while, behind his professional demeanor, the counselor knowingly awaits the inevitable `oath of allegiance', "this stuff really works!".
A junior counselor walks in and says "Thanks, boss" for a case supervisory program he doubted, but which worked like a buzz bomb.
And then there is the Old Timer, on the path since '68, who looks up from her Advanced ACCESS material, abruptly smiling her 1968 smile, instantly and eternally banishing the thirty intervening years of false promises and endlessly endless review sessions.
Lawyers send their bills, writs and subpoenas stink up your mailbox and steal your precious counseling hours, bounced checks become money orders - you mean he finally paid off his account after eleven months gets exclaimed. But all the while, you sit and wait for the next client-seeker knowing you have the skill, wisdom and knowledge to assist her in finding her own personal eternity.
Wonder whether I should plant daffodils or pansies this year