I guess the keynote I’m sensing right now is the fragility of life. We lost Ed McMahon, and Farrah Faucett lost her battle to cancer. Michael Jackson died with no warning at all. And I visited Aspen who’s swollen from lymphoma and breathing hard until the medicine shrinks the tumor a bit. The doctor said she had a few weeks of good life left, but I’m thinking days.

New Yorkers are gathered in Times Square to say goodbye to the King of Pop. I’d be there if I weren’t exhausted from a fully packed day. I love how New Yorkers know where to go for any given situation: Union Square for one kind of protest, the UN for another; Central Park to remember John Lennon, Times Square to remember Michael. It’s not announced really. People just know.

And I know that this is a time to keep things simple. I’m working a lot because I recently birthed two books, but today I left it all in the middle of the afternoon to go the gym and sweat. And I left it again at 6:30 to meet with my monthly Manifestation Group. It’s not my group, but rather a group I’m a part of. Everyone is so positive and focused and visionary that it’s not possible to go there and feel much doubt. I sat through the meeting in that lovely mystery space between what I can do what I can’t. I can envision what I want and take action to bring that about, but I can’t save Aspen. It reminds me of something told to me by a woman who had had a bona fide mystical experience, a true vision of the What’s Real. “I learned,” she said, “that we are dust and we are divine. And there’s a place in consciousness where that’s not even a contradiction.”