Looking back on this marathon tour I recall it as a time of meeting and mingling with many wonderful people. Friends and strangers alike were so good to me that I am still swept with emotion at the thought of the multitude of kindnesses bestowed. Indeed, the experience taught me that there is no such thing as a stranger upon this earth. Everyone is a potential companion upon the way we all must travel together. And yet, when the moment came to pack books and clothes and continue on, I always seemed to be alone.
Generally I remained in one place no more than three days. Often, there would be a bed for the night or a spot beside the road where my sleeping bag could be laid out under a tree. Many times I curled up and slept behind the steering wheel of my mini-staion wagon, regretting having purchased a model with the brake jutting up between the two front seats. Indeed, so bonded did I become to my car that gradually I came to regard myself as some sort of mythic creature-half woman and half station wagon.
In Virginia Beach I was privileged to enjoy five delightful days with the astrologer-therapist Ted Sharp, his son Sam, and his charming fiancee (now wife) Nancy. I had been looking forward to visiting this resort town not only because I was eager to see the Atlantic Ocean and exchange ideas with Ted but also because this was the pivotal point at which I would reverse my course and be heading home again.
After each busy day in Virginia Beach I would drive from Ted's house to the seaside and walk barefoot along the wave-scalloped margin that glistened between the sea and sand. Always, there were couples sitting on benches or strolling by the water. "Why," I wondered, looking, up at the stars, "when all the world goes in pairs, is there no one far me?" There was no answer, nor was any expected. After all, there were plenty of potential male companions if I just weren't so choosy. Obviously I could blame only my own persnicketiness if I asked too much.
At this point Seattle wasn't even on my itinerary since Isabel Buell and I had thoroughly covered the territory the previous spring.
As far as I knew the end of my lecture line was Vancouver's Mystic Arts Bookstore whose proprietor Doug Brown was organizing some workshops. However, I had written my good friend Mac McLaughlin who is a successful astrologer in Victoria to let him know that I would accept any engagements he could set up. Nevertheless, it was not until July, when I actually arrived in Vancouver, British Columbia, that I discovered that Mac and the Seattle astrologer Carol Phillips had scheduled a lecture at the Seattle museum to be followed by workshops at Carol's house.
As on my previous tour Mac was the compleat agent, chauffeur, travel guide, host, and general factotum. After organizing programs in Vancouver, Victoria, Courtney and Seattle he smoothed every step of the way, arranging accommodations in one delightful home after another. In addition, he and his wife Dale entertained me royally at their home on Vancouver Island. However, despite the superabundant kindness of these many generous people an edge of fatigue had set in by the time of my lecture in Seattle. As it turned out, the audience consisted half of knowledgeable astrologers and the other half of novices attracted by my appearance on Shirley Hudson's TV show "Seattle Today." Consequently, I was so preoccupied with restructuring my presentation to try to hold the interest of both groups that I paid scant attention to the tall, dark-haired man in the front row who was taping my every word.
For the sake of spontaneity I have long indulged a tendency to change my format during the course of a talk, often spouting forth ideas which come unbidden on the spot. This particular evening I made a point which had struck me only a few days before. Speaking of the manner in which people often seem bound by oaths taken in former lives, I used myself as an illustration. That is, I have Neptune in the second house of my horoscope, giving a proclivity to be parted from possessions. This, I averred, might be related to my having been a nun who took a vow of poverty during a life as a "Poor Clare" in the days of Saint Francis. Owing to this unremembered act of renunciation I had long been plagued by a predisposition either to give everything away, or else to have my worldly goods snatched from me. (At that point I owned nothing more than a few clothes and some inexpensive jewelry, having turned over what little else I had to the Ananta Foundation.)
"But enough is enough!" I exclaimed impulsively. "Now that I know about that vow I can realize that it is no longer needful. In fact, I hereby rescind it. If anyone here cares to donate a few million dollars to set up a research center it will be gladly accepted."
After the lecture I wondered about that unthinking declaration. "Watch out," warned a voice at the back of my mind. "If the original vow was that powerful a determinant, you may be setting a whole new train of forces in motion. Do you really want to be bothered with a lot of possessions?"
"Well, why not." another voice replied. "Maybe the reason for picking a natal chart with Venus in Taurus was to learn to love the earth, and to appreciate what it has to offer after all these lives of toil and tribulations.
The following day the gentleman in the front row turned up at Carol's workshop where I learned that he was Dr. Howard Sunny Alltounian, the Deputy Chief of the Anesthesia Department at the Seattle Public Health Hospital. During our lunch break he showed me his horoscope and I noted that he was forty years old, and a fellow Geminian with the Moon in Leo. "Oh," I commented, "transiting Jupiter is passing over your Sun right at this time." Since this felicitous planet was also closely sextiling his Moon, which ruled the fifth house of love affairs, I surmised that a new lady had entered his life. The Sun being the ruler of the sixth house of work and service could show that this would be someone with whom he had a working relationship-perhaps a nurse at the hospital.
The doctor shook his head. No, nothing like that has come to pass. "Well," I finished lamely, "Pisces rising should make you a natural spiritual healer. Your most important planet Neptune rules anesthesia, and being on the hidden side of the seventh house you would do well working in a partnership situation. The main thing to remember is that seeds sown at this time can bear good fruit."
Continuing to peruse the chart I noticed that the doctor's Geminian Sun was conjunct my Mercury and my Mercury conjunct his Sun-a double Sun-Mercury interchange. In addition my Mars, Uranus and Midheaven in Aries conjuncted his Saturn, while his Mars in Scorpio was in exact opposition to my Venus. "Not a bad comparison," I thought, turning the conversation to other matters.
To my regret, time did not allow me to regress this pleasant man during the workshop. However, he was a good sport about being passed over and before I left I suggested, without much conviction, that maybe at some later date we could schedule a private regression session.
A couple of days later the handsome doctor showed up at a party given by my friend Jan Allen in Seattle. As the guests departed he suggested that we take a walk. In my sedentary life it is always a relief to be able to snatch some exercise and we started briskly up the hill behind Jan's house.
The next hour brought two major surprises. The first was that Howard (also sometimes known by his middle name "Sunny") expressed a degree of regard for me that belied the briefness of our acquaintance. His kind words saddened me because he was obviously so nice and here was I on the verge of backtracking to Vancouver where Doug had lined up two final weeks of regression sessions. Immediately after I was scheduled to drive 1200 miles down the coast to Ojai, leave the car, and fly immediately across the country to Maine where I was already overdue in my promise to put the finishing touches on two books coauthored with Mark Douglas-The Astrological Tradition and Astrology and Time. There just wasn't time for romance.